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fushitoru · 5 months ago

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so i know who i'm looking at! a sukuna ryomen oneshot

pairing ⸺ ghostface!sukuna x reader

summary ⸺ on halloween night, you get a strange phone call from a man with a distorted voice right as you're chilling while babysitting yuuji. you get an ultimatum: perform for him, or risk your and yuuji's lives.

warnings ⸺ smut, fluff (at the end), pre established consent but dub con just in case, cream pie, lots of degradation and praise, “good girl,” oral sex (m!recieving), recording and pictures, suggested infidelity (but it’s not actually infidelity), exhibitionism, reader gives him a show in exchange for her life, rough sex, semi-public sex, established relationship, mdni, pls help me find artist for credit :(

next. week two

kinktober masterlist | general masterlist

you stretch, yawning as you adjust the blanket you had on you to cover you and give you warmth on the chilly october evening. gazing forlornly at the balcony window outside, you see kids and college students alike in their halloween costumes visiting homes for treats and bars for booze, respectively. tonight was a night you were supposed to get dicked down by your boyfriend in the bathroom of a frat, but you’re stuck instead with a last minute call to babysit yuji because he’s sick.

you love the kid too much, like he’s your own baby. which is why you couldn’t refuse playing babysitter, even if that meant forgoing pictures for your instagram with the slutty angel costume you had bought a month who in anticipation of halloweekend. instead, you’re tucked in and cozy, watching scream for the nth time just to fangirl over how hot ghostface is.

so you’re in your tank top and boy shorts, relaxing and chilling (that is, as much as you can while locked in on your movie). and, as if on cue, the moment the phone rings in the movie, the itadori household’s phone number gets a call.

you jump at the noise, a bit on edge because of the movie and definitely regretting the idea of setting the living room pitch back in spirit of mood lighting. groaning (albeit a bit freaked out), you get up to answer the call, as yuji babysitting protocol required that you answer any call in case it may be an emergency.

picking up—but a bit on edge—you drone, “itadori household, how can i help you?”

there’s heavy breathing on the other end and you hate your scaredy cat tendencies because your heart is picking up at the distorted and low pants. “h—hello?”

“hey.” the voice is low, just like the breathing, and for a moment, you hate your brain for immediately recalling the nsfw audios you watch to masturbate because the guy on the phone sounds exactly like them. it’s a little freaky that you’re getting such a weird fuckin call at this time, but regardless you persist, in case this was relevant. you kind of need this job.

feigning cheerfulness, you ask, "what can i get ya?" as your fingers absently toy with the thin strap of your tank top. the cool air from the nearby vent sends a shiver across your skin, but the silence on the other end of the line is more unnerving. you're met with nothing but heavy breathing, and each exhale seems to scrape against your eardrums.

shifting uncomfortably, you feel the sweat beading at the nape of your neck as impatience builds. your fingers tighten around the receiver. "are you gonna talk or should i hang up?" you finally snap, agitation bleeding into your voice.

but before you can slam the phone down, he speaks.

“what’s your favorite scary movie?”

a groan escapes you, the kind that rises from deep in your chest, exasperation overtaking any lingering nervousness. "look, buddy, this is soooo corny. like, i was literally just watching scream, so you’re not doing shit. if you wanna prank call a girl, try somewhere else because—"

“you got a boyfriend?”

“i do,” you quip back quickly, a hand on your hip as you stand straighter, eyes flicking to the doorway of the kitchen. shadows dance in the dim light, your heartbeat subtly picking up pace. you move to hang up the phone, more irritated than frightened now. “so you better not try anything funny and waste more of your time, you fu—”

“but he’s not sleeping upstairs with the kid?”

the world freezes. you pause, the phone hovering mid-air. what did he just say? your pulse quickens, each thud louder than the last as dread claws at your chest. "what?"

a laugh, deep and guttural, slithers through the receiver. it’s the kind of laugh that makes your stomach drop and your legs feel weak. his voice is smooth, velvety even, and it curls around your ear like smoke. despite the creeping fear, something primal makes your thighs clench involuntarily. “okay, now that i’ve finally got your attention, let’s try this again. what’s your name, baby?”

that word—baby—the way he drags it out, rich and slow, makes your heart stutter, even as fear wraps tighter around your ribs. you grip the edge of the counter, nails digging into the cool surface. “why do you wanna know?”

“so i know who i’m looking at.”

the room spins. your breath falters, shallow, barely there. it’s like the walls are closing in, and your throat feels thick with fear. you lick your dry lips, throat tightening painfully. “wha—what do you mean?”

a soft coo hums through the phone, mockingly sweet. “no need to be afraid, pretty baby. you don’t want the kid upstairs to die, do you?”

your blood turns to ice. the words don’t make sense at first, but when they do, it feels like the floor’s been yanked out from beneath you. your mind races, every nerve in your body screaming. “what the fuck? is this some kind of prank call? this isn’t funny.”

but the man just continues, as if he didn’t just say something so horrifying that your stomach churns. his voice remains steady, eerily calm. “the kid, how old is he? five, six? he’s dozin’ off in those stupid iron man pj’s of his.” you swear you can hear his smile through the phone, a wicked curl of satisfaction. “and i love those shorts on you. parading your ass around like the slut you are. how’d your boyfriend leave you alone tonight?”

the walls feel like they’re closing in. a cold sweat breaks out across your skin, and suddenly the room feels too small. your eyes dart toward the darkened stairs. every creak of the house becomes louder, sharper. the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end as you swallow, mouth dry as cotton. it feels like someone is watching—someone who shouldn’t be there.

for a second, you digest the information he’d bestowed upon you—information about yourself. not-so-subtly freaking out, you get out a “please, please don’t do this.”

“then gimme a show. follow what i say.”

“o—okay. what do you want me to do?” you’re trembling, your realize, in your fear. or was it arousal?

“come closer to the window,” the voice purrs. you tentatively walk up to the balcony window facing the itadori garden, awaiting instructions as you stand shivering with the chill of the air.

“now,” the voice instructs, “take your top off. gimme a show, alright? better see that fucking back arch when you’re talking it off like filthy stripper slut you are.”

you whimper in humiliation but follow his instructions anyways, slowly becoming more and more of a slave to your arousal, caused by his assured and suave voice. when you take your tank top off, back arched just like he asked, the man groans and you hear distant squelches on the other side of the line.

“good girl. now when you take that bra off, pull up your cups, but don’t take it off, leave it bunched. those tits better bounce for me.” pulling up the cups of your bra, your tits recoil and bounce and the squelching gets even louder as you feel eyes rove over your tits. “fuck, i love those tits. get on your knees and bounce em for me like you’re riding cock.”

you clench so hard as you move to do as he says. part of you is soooo aroused to be forced around like this, so you’re easily giving him the show that he wants, getting on your knees and moving your chest so that they start rhythmically bouncing, synced up with the squelches you hear in the other side of the phone.

“stick your tongue out. drool on your tits.” you moan, your tongue lolling out as a glob of spit starts trailing down your body.

“fuck!” he exclaims, aroused by the sight. “you like being bossed around this baby? like my little bitch?”

“no!” you sob, tears springing out at the utter humiliation you were experiencing. “please let me go, please don’t do anything to yuji!”

the voice chuckles. “really? i think you’re lying, baby. i know that pussy is wet while you’re giving me a show. matter of fact, why don’t you show me? make sure i get a really good look at that cunt, okay?”

slipping your shorts off, you turn so that your backside is facing the lawn and uncover your traitorous pussy—glistening wet—to him. taking a few steps back, you breathe heavily—like the person on the other side of the phone—as you press your pussy against the glass, the heat and humidity originating from your inner walls fogging the area on the glass. you hear a snap! on the other side, indicated that he had taken a photo. eyes widening in panic, you ask, “what are you doing? please, i’m doing whatever you wa—”

“i can’t let everyone think you’re some innocent virgin, can i? parading your ass and pussy for me, when anyone in the neighborhood can see? matter of fact,” and you start panicking at his next words, “i’ll post this online if you don’t grind that ass back for me.”

you swallow and start to do as he says. the glass is cool as you rub your folds along it, your slick dirtying the glass as you move your folds on the glass door. of course, the glide isn’t smooth—your clit keeps catching on the glass, but the fact that you’re bare to the world, any stray eyes being able to see you on display arouses you to no extent. you’re ashamed of being aroused at having to perform for a stranger, but you continue regardless and clutch the phone in your hand as he speaks to you again.

“the fuck you so wet for?” the voice mocks you. “you get off on this shit?”

“fuck you,” you moan, continuing to rub yourself. “i hate you.”

the man laughs meanly. “for someone you hate, you’re getting pretty wet for me, baby.” the sounds of him stroking his dick are even louder as you grind against the door at the same tempo that he moves his hand at, grunting as you continue moaning into the mic. “look at how you’re clenching—good girl. want me to come in and make you cum?”

“real fucking cocky,” you hiss into the phone, “really fuckin cocky of you to think you can make me cum. with the way you had to threaten me, i just know you have a micro.”

as soon as you say that, the call hangs up and you look at your screen in confusion. that is, until you feel hands on your bare hips, knees–covered in black fabric—pressing against the junction between your thighs. “say that again,” the voice whispers.

you turn, eyes wide and heart speeding up as you turn to see the very figure that showed up in your movie. reminiscent of the killer, a tall man in a mask is hunched over you, now moving his hands to grip at your hands. “let’s take this to the bed, shall we?”

“oh shit,” ghostface curses, continuously snapping photos of your lips, the flash going off in the dark room. “look at this,” and he brings the camera closer and closer to your pussy, using his other hand to spread your lips as you helplessly lie on the bed, forced to spread your legs for him. “this pussy clenches everytime the flash goes off!” and he’s laughing, mocking you as slick leaves your hole in drops as the utter way you’re being humiliated. he grabs your cheeks roughly with the hand that was spreading your nether regions, squeezing them together and focusing the camera on your face. “this is the slut i’m going to fuck. gonna suck my cock, right?”

“mhm,” you whimper, resigned to your fate. making quick work of his robe, he takes them off completely, still leaving his mask in place. as he uncovers his pelvis, your eyes immediately rove over the hardened muscles on his abdomen. there’s a pink happy trail leading down to his dick, which is furiously red and standing. he grabs it, pumping the length as he moves closer and closer to your face until his precum is smearing against your face.

“fuck,” he curses, as he takes in the sight of your teary eyes looking up at him dumbly, lips puckered as he slaps his cock against your cheeks until your cheeks are turning red. you’re giving kitten licks to his tip every time he alternates between slapping your two cheeks, not knowing what do to with yourself except focus on your oral fixation telling you instinctively to suck his cock. he then uses his fingers to pull your mouth open and slowly feeds his cock inside, eyes rolling back as soon as he feels your warm breath and hot tongue encompass him.

you’re sucking at his tip and alternating between licking the rest of his dick, and he’s lost in the tight, wet heat of your mouth hollowing around him. you then prop yourself on your knees, using your hands to grab and play with his balls, stimulating him even more and causing him to rip out of your mouth and growls, “on your hands and knees. now.”

he doesn’t give you sufficient time to turn around and fully adjust in your position as he’s slamming into your roughly, the wet plush of your pussy too enticing. because you didn’t see it coming, your face is smushed against the pillow, and he grabs at your hands, using his free hand to hold them together at the small of your back.

“you like my cock, baby?” he pants, sweat beginning to run down his torso. when you don’t respond, he lets go of your hands to smack you consecutive times on your ass. “answer me.”

“i love it sooo much,” you babble, too lost in the pleasure to form more coherent thoughts as you ramble. “it’s splitting me—oh my god.” your eyes roll back—in pain or pleasure, you can’t decide—as his cock kisses your cervix. the masked man keeps thrusting in you, the sounds of his hips smacking into yours echoing throughout your room in a series of plap plap plap’s.

“yea? fuck, i’m so close. you wanna live baby?” he grabs your hair and pulls, giving you a sloppy wet kiss on your cheek. “let me come inside. you’ll let me dump my cum in you, right?”

you only clenched tighter at his words. “please,” you sobbed. “please come inside. please paint my walls. i want your cum so bad.”

you were so close, staving off your orgasm until he filled you up. at your words, the intruder laughed mockingly and kept thrusting into you, but the telltale sloppiness of his hips indicated that he was close. “god, what a slut—” he was interrupted by his own climax, and as soon as the thick ropes of cum filled you, you came with a squeal, your back arching impossibly further as your thrashed on his dick because of the intensity of your orgasm. both of you rid it together, panting as you came down.

he pulls out of you, and before you can catch your breath, the man flops his entire weight on top of you, making you laugh as you let out a startled exclamation, “ryo!”

you squirm beneath him, trying to push him off, but it’s futile. he’s far too big and heavy, and he knows it. with a low, lazy chuckle, your boyfriend, sukuna ryomen, removes his mask—tossing it carelessly onto the floor—before nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. his breath is warm against your skin, and you can feel the heat radiating off him as his chest rises and falls in rhythm with your own.

“did you enjoy that stupid thing you wanted, brat?” he mumbles, slightly panting in exhaustion.

his words are snarky, but you can hear the affection laced beneath them. your heart swells with a sudden rush of warmth, the fondness you feel for him almost overwhelming. it’s moments like this—where he does something ridiculous just because you asked, despite all his grumbling—that remind you why you love him so much.

you wrap your arms around his broad back, fingers trailing lazily up and down his spine as you press a soft kiss to the top of his head. “you didn’t have to go all out, you know,” you whisper, smiling into his hair. “but i really appreciate it. you’re kind of the best, even when you pretend you’re not.”

ryomen grunts, but there’s no bite to it. he tightens his hold around you, his large frame practically cocooning you in warmth. you feel his lips brush softly against the skin of your neck, a tender gesture that contrasts with his usual roughness.

“yeah, well... you’re lucky i love you, freak,” he murmurs, voice low and husky. despite his usual bravado, there’s something undeniably soft in the way he says it, as if the words are meant just for you.

you hum contentedly, feeling the weight of his body press you into the mattress. it’s comforting, like being wrapped in a warm blanket. you trace circles on his back with your fingertips, savoring the quiet intimacy of the moment, where it’s just you and him—no roleplay, no teasing—just the quiet aftermath of love.

“lucky, huh?” you tease back softly. “i’d say we’re both pretty lucky.”

ryomen huffs a quiet laugh against your skin before lifting his head slightly to look at you, his dark eyes soft in the dim light. then, he gets up and makes a move to walk out the door. at first, you thought he was heading towards the bathroom door to give you a towel to clean you up, but he’s heading towards the door—soft cock swinging, butt naked—and you’re only left in confusion as to what he’s doing.

“ryo, where are you going?”

“fixin myself a sandwich, i’m hungry,” he grumbles over his shoulder, leaving you dumbfounded. you’re left sitting on the bed as he continues the trek down the stairs to satiate his post sex hungries.

“hey!” you shriek, “your balls are out! what if yuji sees?”

later, when yuji walks deliriously into the kitchen to see his uncle’s cock and balls, he almost wishes he could fully succumb to his fever.

next. week two

kinktober masterlist | general masterlist

a/n hehe i love fluffy sukuna. consider joining my kinktober taglist if you'd like!

taglist:

@sugoroo @ryutotsukai0824 @sharkubi @lisvanrouge @mxlktae

@samisfunky @achbbys000 @xd3pr3ss3dx @jottositto

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gojonanami · 10 months ago

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❝ 𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐀 𝐁𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃 !! ❞

❝ WHEN YOUR CHILDHOOD BEST FRIEND OFFERS TO TEACH YOU HOW TO LOVE, HOW CAN YOU SAY NO ?? ❞

✧ pairing: college student!yuji itadori x f!reader

✧ summary: yuji itadori has been your best friend since you were kids, and when he offers you to teach you how to fuck, you don't expect him to be able to find his way into your heart too.

✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, aged up characters (don't like? don't read), childhood best friends to fwb to lovers, college au! (no curses), reader is the same age as yuji (both 20s), grew up as neighbors, mutual pining, nobara playing cupid, jealous!yuji, yuji is so golden retriever bf, nightmares, mentions of parental death via car crash (yuji), adoptive dad nanamin :), nipple play, oral (f + m), fingering (f! receiving), handjob (m! receiving), semi public sex (under a blanket with sleeping friends nearby), sex (p in v), creampie, swearing, fanart by unknown artist (found on pinterest, pls let me know if you know the og artist so i can credit)

✧ wc: 13,544

✧ for my 2k celebration event: item 5 has been sold to two anons!

“You want me to teach you?”

The words left your best friend’s lips nonchalantly as if he was asking you if you wanted him to teach you how to ride a bike.

But that’s not what he was offering to have you ride—

“Yuji,” you say slowly, “what are you saying? Do you even know what you’re saying?”

Yuji Itadori was dense, but you knew he was far from stupid. You learned that in third grade when he punched a bully that had been picking on you, the final straw being when he had tripped you, causing you to skin your knee. Before you could even well any tears up in your eyes, you heard a thwack and a yelp as Yuji had laid the boy out on the playground. You stared at Yuji, as he offered you his other hand to help you to your feet, as your eyes slid from him to your bully.

Yuji knelt down, carrying you on his back to the nurse’s office, “but Yuji, what about him? We left him—“

And he set you down outside the nurse’s office — and he only smiled that wide smile he had always reserved for you, “Don’t worry — I made sure no one was looking.”

But now, you were beginning to doubt his sanity, rather than his intelligence — “I know what I’m saying,” he chuckles, trademark smile on his lips, “I’m just offering you the chance to practice,”

“This isn’t practicing a sport or test—you’re offering,” you shift on your bed, while Yuji lounges on the floor, back against the bottom of your bed, “you’re offering to sleep with me, Yuji,” he leans his head on your bed, looking up at you at way, your face upside in his vision.

“I know, I know, but it’s not a big deal is it?” he’s acting so nonchalant you wonder if one of his teammates had hit him hard in the head during practice, “we’ve had all our firsts together,”

You scoff, “That was like our first steps, first day of school, first drink—“

“First kiss—“ he interrupts, and your face burns at the memory — a preadolescent game gone wrong that ended up with you and Yuji sharing your first kiss when you were teens.

“That wasn’t real,” you wave him off, crossing your arms, “and this isn’t just a kiss for a game—this could change our friendship—“

“It won’t, if we don’t let it,” his gaze is more serious than you’ve ever seen Yuji be — not when he was usually all wide smiles and enthusiasm, “it’s us, we can get through it, and we don’t have to let it get weird right?”

You chew on your lip, “Yuji, what do you get out of it?” And he’s tilting his head at your question— “I mean you don’t have to do this — just because I’m insecure because I don’t have experience,” you mumble.

And that’s how the conversation had started — your complaints about your friends talking about their boyfriends, exes, and hookups, while you just nodded along — far too aware that you hadn’t even had a proper kiss, much less sex. And now you had found yourself here.

“Look,” he slides up to sit on your bed, a good distance away from you, his eyes finding yours — warm hazel that felt as if it was drizzling over your skin wherever his gaze traveled, “I want your first time to be safe. I don’t want you to just hook up with someone and something bad to happen because you can’t say no — with me,” he clenched his hand into a fist holding his other hand flat as he gently hit his fist against it, “you can tell me to stop and if I somehow don’t or don’t hear you, punch me,”

You snort, “Yuji,” he’s shaking his head.

“I’m serious, I want you to be safe,” and you’re fidgeting with your fingers in your lap — this was Yuji, Yuji — you couldn’t say you hadn’t noticed how well he had grown up. Not when all of your friends drooled over him — especially with how liked he was — by everyone.

“What if I lose you?” And he chuckles, as he breaches your personal space and his hand brushes yours.

“You won’t, ever. I promise,” and your breath catches — many millions of times had Yuji touched you throughout your lives — an arm over over your shoulder, a hug, even holding your hand through crowds during festivals — but a simple brush of his fingers against yours had your heart rattling against its bony enclosure, begging for you to let it out, “what do ya think?”

And you’re thinking — this would be the best outcome — you weren’t one to hook up with a stranger and you were burnt out on dead end dating app conversations, and to have your first time with someone close, someone you knew — it would be ideal.

“Are you sure?” And his lips curl into a soft smile, leaning closer, as his fingers gently brush against your locks.

“Would I be here like this if I wasn’t?” his breath warms your lips, as his fingers skim your cheek, “is this okay?”

You nod wordlessly, unable to find the words to even reply — you had never thought of this situation would ever happen — especially like this. You lean against his hand, calloused from his practices, but as gentle as it always was.

“We can take it as slow as you need,” he murmurs, as he’s even closer now, your eyes fluttering shut, only for his lips to graze your forehead. You pause at the featherlight touch — wondering if it actually happened when your eyes open to find his, “no need to rush, right?” He smiles, as he gets to his feet, “are we still on for tomorrow’s study session?”

“Of course,”

He scratches the back of his head, “Good because I still don’t understand math or why I need it, but unfortunately, I still have to pass,” he grabs his bag, “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he offers a smile before he’s gone.

And you’re left sitting on your bed, the warmth of his touch still on your skin, wondering what the fuck just even happened.

“Yuji, you just have to solve for x,” you sigh, explaining the problem for the billionth time, as his pen waves back forth between two fingers, “it’s simple,”

Your weekly study sessions with Yuji were a constant throughout your life, though more for Yuji than you. Yuji is very intelligent, despite his demeanor in class where it felt as if there was a perpetual question mark over his head — he just learned by seeing and then doing. And the repetition helped you all the same. But you had never felt so conscious sitting next to the boy you called your best friend.

“Maybe to you, but I don’t why math has to involve letters,” he wrinkled his nose at the problem, sighing, as he twists the pen around his hand, and your eyes catch the movement — you didn’t know how the little boy’s whose hands you used to hold had gotten so big now — calloused from his practices, but so soft against your skin, “is something interesting about my hands?”

Your eyes snap up to meet his, cheeks burning as you shake your head, “No, just, uh, impressed that you can twist the pen around your hand like that,”

“Oh, that?” he’s as unfazed as usual, leaning back a little, “that’s easy. I could show you if you want,”

“It’s fine,” and you’re trying to focus back on the problem, when you find him still staring, “what is it?”

“If you wanted to hold my hand, you just had to ask,” his fingers graze yours, with enough time for you to pull away, before his fingers lace with yours, “and we can do more if you want?”

This was crazy — it was probably a mistake, but — as his touch made your heart flutter, warm rolling in waves that erupted into butterflies in your stomach — why weren’t you pulling away?

“What does more entail?” and he inches a little closer, his breath warming your lips, “but you still haven’t gotten this problem down, are you just trying to get out of studying?”

A chuckle on his lips, “Maybe I’m just looking for the right motivation, so how about we make a deal?” He moves over, spreading his legs apart, and pats the floor in front of you — for each question I get right, I get a kiss,”

And why you agreed to this, you really didn’t have words—but now you were sat between his legs, nearly in his lap, as he leaned forward — his chest against your back as his chin brushed your shoulder and his cheek brushed against your own, breath warming your neck — trying to get a better look at the math problem. His arm was wrapped around your side as his pen scratched against the scrap paper, trying to solve the problem. You bit your lip, trying your best not to glance at him, but you spot his wrinkled brow out of the corner of his lip and the tip of his tongue poking ever so slightly out of his mouth— and your lips curled, he still had that habit from when you were kids.

“There, I think I solved it,” he murmurs, and you have to hold back a shiver at the words rumbled against your ear, “is it right?”

And god, you could barely think, much less do math, but as you glance over the question and answer — he’s got it right.

Fuck.

“It is,” you say softly, “is all you need some motivation? Because I would have just promised I would go to see the next Human Earthworm movie,”

He chuckles, his lips nearly against your ear, as his hand gently traces your jaw, “I’d like that, but I think i rather have what I was promised, as long as you’re still okay with that,”

Your breath hitches, as you follow his lead, rough pads still so gentle against your cheek, as your eyes find his, but you don’t find his usual doe eyes — but instead find pools of lust threatening to drag you under. Although from the way your lips part and eyes flutter shut, perhaps he had you underwater for far longer than you even knew.

His lips graze yours — it’s barely a kiss, a peck maybe — as he does his best to ease you in. You didn’t know lips could be so soft — meeting again and again, stealing logic from your mind and breath from your lungs.

“Are you okay?” He’s murmuring, not even a breath away from your lips. You’re nearly dizzy, mind reeling from his touch, heart jumping at his thumb rubbing lightly against your cheek.

“I am, just a little strange to be kissing, much less you,” and his brow knits together, “but not bad at all,” you add, and he chuckles, his fingers grazing your cheek firmer, as he leans in again, “we said one kiss—“

“Do you really want to stop now?” he’s murmuring, and your noses bump against each other.

Your lips find his again and now you can taste the sour candy he had stolen from you, but an overwhelming sweetness overrides it, and your hand brushes against his cheek, the other finding purchase on his chest.

“Is that okay?” You murmur, as you lips part, the two of you catching your breath, your shared pants filling the silence, your cheeks burning as your eyes avert from his, “I don’t know—“

“You’re fine, don’t worry about it,” a small chuckle on his lips, fingers cupping your chin to guide your gaze back to his — a subtle heat that makes your insides turn to molasses, sticky and sweet and far too warm, “just do what feels right, ok?”

And his lips find yours again, gently as he did the first time, but more passion behind it, swallowing your quiet murmur of his name with ease. Your lips move against his just as his did — you try to push aside the thoughts of whether you were doing this right. But the slight brush of his teeth against your bottom lip makes you forget too with a gasp.

He pulls away with a grin on his lips, “Sorry, couldn’t resist,” and his lips are kissed red, your thumb brushed against his swollen lips, “don’t tempt me more,”

“You’re the one who started this, shouldn’t you take some responsibility, Yu?” your lips graze his cheek, curling as a rosy flush settles over his cheekbones, “nothing to say?”

“You’re making it hard for me to hold back,” and he’s burying his face in the side of your neck, making you shiver, as he pulls you even closer, arms around your waist, “I don’t want to rush you,”

Cute, you think before you even think, and yet the way his face is hidden away in your neck, breath warming your neck makes your body flush, and when have you ever thought of Yuji as cute? And yet you couldn’t remember a time that he made your heart race either.

His lips press a small kiss to your neck, drawing a yelp from your lips, “Yuji—“ he’s nosing the hollow of your throat, “ah, you’re teasing me,” you whine, and he’s lifting his gaze back to yours, heavy with want, a want that leaves you bereft of any semblance of sense.

“You started it,” he murmurs, before he finds your lips in another kiss — this time it’s a slow heat, languid as it threatens to burn both of you alive, flames licking at the edges of your reason. And his phone goes off — a reminder for practice that he groans at, “I should go. I have to go run laps,”

“Now?” And he’s slowly disentangling himself from you, the absence of his touch lingers, the heat ebbing, “don’t you usually practice in the mornings?” You get to your feet slowly as well, handing him his math notebook, and it occurs to you when you spot the puddles outside, “it was too wet,”

And he nods, scratching the back of his head, as the two of you walk out into your apartment’s living space, “and I forgot my protein shake—“ you head over to the kitchen, opening the refrigerator door and pulling out his shake, and he blinks, “how—“

“You did the same thing last week, so I just bought a pack for you,” and his lips curl as he walks over and takes the bottle from your hand, fingers brushing — and even that much alight a flutter of nerves through your body.

“Thanks,” he grins, and you nod.

“Of course, I thought it just made sense since you come here every week—” you turn to shut the refrigerator, before turning back, only to find him stepping a bit closer, “Yu—“

“I almost forgot, one more lesson,” and he’s leaning close, and your breath catches in your throat, as his lips brush yours, fingers tracing the swell of your cheek, “a kiss goodbye,” and he parts, a brush of his fingers against yours, “I’ll text you later,” and he’s gone in a flash.

Your left, fingertips touching your lips, a questioning lingering as he left — whether these feelings blooming in your chest were just from the kiss, or something more.

But you glance at your phone — a text from Yuji:

Golden Retriever Bestie: thanks for the drink again :)

You lock the screen — but you couldn’t hope for more, right? Not when this was started with the intention of stopping. But why—as you laid back into bed, staring up at your ceiling in the same room the two of you had spent the last two years watching movies or studying in, eyes squeezing shut—

Why did you still want more?

When did Yuji Itadori fall in love with you? It would probably be easier for him to list the moments he hadn’t fallen for you — but the earliest he can remember was when he had hurt himself climbing a tree in the schoolyard, falling from the branch he had made it to. You had been watching him the whole time, telling him to come down, and when he fell, you were at his side. His vision was a little blurry but when it cleared, he saw you knelt above him, big tears leaving your eyes. And when he came to, you hugged him tight, before helping him to the nurse’s. You had even insisted on bandaging his cuts, not letting the nurse do so.

And that’s when he knew — he knew he always wanted to wake to you beside him.

“You what?” Nobara scoffed at him, as she held up another of her new purchases in front of her while looking in her full length mirror, “so instead of asking her out and confession this pathetic crush—“

“Pathetic is kinda harsh, Kugisaki—“

“It’s been over a decade — your one sided feelings is now in secondary school — it’s officially pathetic,” she hangs up the new leather jacket she bought in her closet, before turning to Yuji, “so instead of confessing, you asked her to be your friends with benefits—“

“That’s not exactly—“ she cuts him off with a look, “ok that’s kind of what I did,” he shakes his head, “she was venting about how she never had her first kiss and words started coming out of my mouth and wouldn’t stop—“

“Not the first time that’s happened to you is it?” And Yuji glares at her through the mirror, “what? You came to me instead of Fushiguro because you wanted a pretty girl’s opinion right?”

“I said girl, nothing about—“ it was her turn to glare at him, “alright, alright — what do I do now? I want to tell her I like her, but if I do, I might seem like a—“

“A creep? A weirdo? A pervert?”

“I was gonna say liar, but those too,” he rubbed a hand down his face, “what do I do?”

She sighs, tucking a strand of her dyed hair behind her ear, “the only thing to do in situation like this,”

“Tell the truth?” And she scoffs.

“No, of course not, just use this time to make her fall for you, but that means you’ll have to use this agreement to your advantage,” she hums, “she said she wanted more experience right?” And Yuji nods, “who says it has to just be making out and sex?”

“You want to go on a date? Fuck,” you mutter under your breath as you turn the heat of your burner down, hoping you hadn’t completely burned your omelet now as you flipped it, “I thought this was just supposed to be for the more…physical sides of things,” your cheeks burned.

God, what the fuck.

“I mean part of gaining experience is learning how to date, right?” And you’re placing your slightly burned omelet in the plate, as you wipe your hands off with your dishcloth, “we could go to an arcade, maybe catch a movie,”

“Human Earthworm 4?” And you hear him chuckle over the line, and the sound makes your lips curl — it always felt like an accomplishment making him laugh, but even more so now.

“We don’t have to—“

“I don’t mind,” you cut him off, and you never did — you just loved to tease him, as you always did, “they’ve grown on me,” and you didn’t know there was more room for Yuji to grow on you, you thought his roots had already went far and deep, tangled around every inch of yourself and your mind, even your heart — but now—

“Does 2 PM work? I’ll come by and pick you up from your place,” and you didn’t know where it would go but—

“Sounds perfect,” he had found his way into a place you never thought anyone would find themselves in. — and as he hung up, biting your bottom lip—

And it seemed he was here to stay.

“You’re such a cheater,” you glared at Yuji as he won for the tenth time at the boxing game — hitting the max score every time, “tell me what the trick is,”

“You know I’m strong,” Yuji gapes, holding his arm, “how would I cheat?” And you’re pouting, crossing your arms.

“You’re cheating by being you,” and Yuji has to bite back his smile — you were being so cute — but he knows saying that will earn him a punch in the shoulder harder than you gave the punching bag on the machine, “now you have to buy me an ice cream,”

“For?” He raises an eyebrow.

“For being a cheater,” and he can’t help the chuckle that leaves his lips that earns him a bunch of slaps to his arm, before he’s wrapping that same arm around your waist, your complaints chased away by a gasp, “what—“

“I was going to buy you anything you wanted anyway, it is a date after all,” he smiles, and you stammer, but you don’t pull away, “what flavor do you want?” After you tell him, he goes off to the concession to buy you both some ice cream, and when he finds you at a table, he sees you’re not alone. His lips are a tight line, as he finds a guy leaning against the booth you sat in, clearly flirting with you, your back to Yuji so he can’t see your face.

He finds his way back to you, his hand brushes your shoulder gently, “is everything okay?” He asks you, meeting your gaze without regard for the stranger — and he’s glad he did, because he spots your pursed lips and darting eyes that told him everything he needed to know, “you need something?” He asks the guy, a friendly smile on his lips.

“Not from you,” the guy scoffs, “I was talking to—“

“Well, you’re talking to me now, not my date, so—“ and you’re leaning into Yuji, “you need something or not?” And the guy grumbles something under his breath before slinking away, and Yuji’s sliding in beside you when you move over, “you okay?”

“Yeah, he wouldn’t leave,” you sigh, shaking your head, “sorry—“

“You have nothing to be sorry about,” he murmurs, as he hands you your ice cream, “as long as you’re okay,” his arm slides around your shoulder and squeezes you, “i would’ve punched him if it wouldn’t have ruined our date,”

You snort, as you lick your ice cream, “if you punched him harder than you did the bag, don’t know if this date would have ended with us going home,” and he pouts, as he laps at his ice cream, and he feels you turn to look at him, “Didn’t know you were the jealous type, Yu,” and he chuckles, he wanted to say — only when it came to you.

But he knew that he couldn’t. Not like this.

“I didn’t think I was either.”

“Nope, not gonna admit it,” and Yuji’s grinning still, as the two of you walk out of the theater, his arm still around your shoulder, “no it wasn’t that good,”

If there was one thing about Yuji is that movies were literally his obsession — one movie marathon when the two of you were teens had turned him into a fanatic. And he often ended up dragging you to all of them he saw in theaters — and you probably had watched the Human Earthworm movies the most amount of times anyone ever has — aside from Yuji. Well, more like you watched him watch it, because while he was smiling and laughing (or crying) at the movie, you were looking at him.

And right now, he looked far too smug, “So you admit that it was good,” and you cross your arms, shaking your head, “I saw you tearing up at the end — I told you, it’s all about love!”

You purse your lips, if only to hold back your smile, before sighing, “How would no one tear up at that ending?” And his hand’s grabbing yours, tugging at your arm, as the two of you walk along, “Yu—“

“I knew you liked it! C’mon, I knew you would, now what was your favorite part?” And your lips curl into a smile, “what?”

That was one of the things you loved the most about Yuji, how excited he could get — how he loved everything so wholeheartedly with no reservations, and you knew he was the one person you could always count on to cheer you up.

“Nothing, nothing,” you chuckle, letting your fingers lace with his, “my favorite part?” And you want to say — watching him enjoy the movie.

But you can’t.

“Probably the ending,” you slowly smile, “liked it when the credits rolled,” and he’s mock glaring, as you laugh before his arm tightening around your waist, “Yu-ji—“

“Not going to be honest?” He murmurs, before kissing your chin, “then maybe I’ll make you.”

“Yu—ngh, please,” Yuji could get addicted to your taste, it was never enough, was it? His lips had spent the last twenty minutes kissing every inch of your face and neck, traversing over every nook and cranny as he always wanted to — and yet it was never enough. Any time spent with you was never enough —because you always made anything better, and nothing ever worse.

And he knew no one else would ever feel this good.

How many times had he imagined just this scenario? Of you in his bedroom with him alone, as you had been many times before, but never like this. You never looked at him like that before — with that shyness mixed with an undercurrent of want. And it was enough to rip him away and drag him under with you.

“Please what, baby?” Yuji looks up with a wry smile and soft eyes that burn a path where as it raked down your body like coals across a fire, “want me to stop?” And he’s dragging a thumb down your untouched lips.

You cover your face with the back of your hand, and he’s gently tugging it away, pressing a kiss to your wrist, your pulse jumping underneath, “I want more,” and fuck if he wasn’t at full mast from the kissing, he was now at your words, “I want you to…kiss me and…touch me,” you mumble, eyes averted, but he’s smiling all the same — you were so cute.

“Where can I touch?” he asks softly, his nose brushing yours, “need you to tell me. I don’t want to rush—“

And your lips crash against his, your fingers finding the back of his neck, threading in his pink locks. He’s pausing a moment before he melts into your kiss, and you’re taking the lead, as you lean further into the kiss, your fingers sliding down from his shoulder to his chest. His tongue flicks against the seam of your lips and you part for him.

“I want you to touch me,” you murmur as you break the kiss, panting, strings of your spit still connecting your lips, your breathy words nearly enough for him to lose all control, “I’ll tell you if I don’t like it,”

And he’s more than happy to oblige, his lips find yours in a bruising kiss, his hand toys with the hem of your shirt as permission, and you part from the kiss to nod. His hand slides up your soft flesh, pushing up your shirt along with it — finding your lacy bra underneath. He’s tugging the shirt up and over your head with your help, and god—

He has to stop himself from cumming right then and there at the sight of you. His fingers reach out, toying with the strap of your bra, “Did you wear this for me?” And you biting your bottom lip was all the answer he needed.

“Yu—“ he’s tweaking your hardened bud through the fabric, “ah, fuck—“ and he leans down to suck the other side through your bra, while sliding down your bra strap.

“Need to taste you,” and you’re nodding, while he’s reaching around to brush against the clasp of your bra to undo it, and his cock twitches at the sight of your bare skin — you’re so fucking pretty.

He always thought you were pretty — when you were kids drenched from running around in the rain, when you were just waking up from a nap with your hair askew and dried drool in the corner of your mouth, when your eyes were wide with excitement and nearly jumping up and down to tell him good news; and when you’re smiling—especially when you’re smiling.

It was his favorite thing.

“Don’t stare so much,” you’re trying cover yourself, but his hands catch yours, easing them off, “It’s embarrassing—“

“You’re perfect,” and your lips part but no words come, but you can’t meet his gaze, “you are—“

“You’re just saying that—“ and his fingers pinch your nipple drawing a gasp from your lips, while he leans down and takes the other in his mouth. His eyes find yours, blown into deep, dark pools by his lust — ones you’d be more than willing to drown in.

“I’d never just say that, especially to you, baby,” and you’re about to make a smart remark about him calling you ‘baby.’ But you forget every word you ever learned when his fingers start to drag down your stomach, fingers playing with the button of your jeans, “can I?”

And you nod, your back arching ever so slightly as his lips press a sweet kiss to your bellybutton. He’s kissing down your soft legs as he tugs down your jeans — one to your thigh, another to your knee, and another to your ankle —before he’s kissing up the other.

“How’s that feel?” he murmurs, eyes flitting up to meet yours, and fuck, your lips parted and swollen a pretty red, eyes half lidded with want, and — as his eyes fall between your thighs — a growing wet spot on your panties.

His fingers toy with the elastic, snapping it lightly against your skin, a slight flinch only, as his eyes gaze at your clothed cunt with near reverence. He looks for permission, before he leans in to press a kiss to your swollen clit, a small yelp escaping your mouth.

“Yuji,” you whine, lifting your head to meet his gaze again, “please,”

“Say my name again, please,” he’s kissing your thigh gently, and it feels as if you’ll crumble under his touch any second, wither away in a figment of his imagination, and he won’t ever get the chance to hear you like this again, much less touch you. He was selfish to take advantage like this — and he knew he was — but he couldn’t leave it like this.

“Yuji, just touch me—“ and your head falls back as his fingers graze your clit through your nearly translucent underwear, “ngh, you fucker—“ and he’s chuckling, as he tugs your panties away.

“Wanted to keep them on since you looked so good, but,” and he’s pocketing them with a grin, “I’ll just keep them instead,” your dripping walls twitch at the thought, “s’good for me. What do you want, my fingers or my tongue?”

“Fuck, I don’t know, just touch—“ and your head lolls against the pillow as his tongue drags up flat up the length of your weeping pussy.

“You’re so sweet — I could live here,” he murmurs, as his fingers spread your slick folds, a pretty moan falling from your lips as he does, “can’t wait to feel you cum around my fingers,” he’s easing a finger in — and you’re so tight, you’re tensing as he tries to part your walls, “relax, ok? I’ll be gentle. Don’t worry. I won’t ever hurt you,” his eyes meet yours and you’re nodding, as he pulls his finger away, a shiver at the empty ache, but it falls away into another moan as his tongue replaces it.

The wet squelch of your folds is enough for him to cum right there — you smell as sweet as you taste, as he kisses your clit, before dragging the length of his tongue over your sopping slit again, “Yuji—fuck—“ your fingers find purchase in his pink locks right when he decides to sink a finger inside you again.

“That’s it,” he grunts, as he works his finger knuckle deep into you, “so good f’me, so tight,” he’s murmuring, and your syrupy walls wrapped around his finger makes him wonder how good it will feel when his cock is inside you. He’s palming his erection through his pants, desperate for any kind of fucking friction, “g’nna add another,”

And you’re nodding, “please, I—“ and a second finger joins the first, and the lewd noises grow louder from your slick and his fingers begin to pump faster — teasing and stretching your walls as they begin to flutter around you, “Yuji, Yuji—“ his name leaves your lips like a prayer, but he’s the one who would worship at your feet, if you’d let him, your moans and whimpers were all he needed to survive, and he’d give his very soul if it meant he could be at your side.

His fingers are fucking you open, the tips of his fingers brushing against the spot that his your mouth falling open in a silent moan, “that’s it, cum for me, pretty girl,” and pleasure rips up your spine, as you cum all over his fingers, thighs shaking as you do. He fucks you slowly through your orgasm, helping you ride it out, until he’s slowing, leaning up to prsss sweet kisses to your face.

“I’m going to pull them out slowly,” he murmurs, your eyes still fluttered shut, but they slowly open to watch him ease his fingers from you. Soft pants leave your lips as you watch him with lidded eyes lick his fingers sticky with your release clean.

“Are you okay?” He’s murmuring, as he moves up to lean over your face, and you’re nodding, “let me clean you up and we can sleep, ok?” he’s moving to get off the bed, but you grab his hand, and he tilts his head.

“What about you?” You mumble, frowning, eyes flickering to the tent in his pants with a shy gaze, “I want to—“

“It’s okay, let’s just take it easy today,” he’s smiling, fingers finding yours and squeezing, pressing his lips to your knuckles, “you look like you’re about to pass out,” and you’re pouting all the same, but you seem to relent as the exhaustion sets in once again at your words, “I’ll be right back,” and he retreats to his bathroom to wet a washcloth, only to come back to you fast asleep.

He chuckles at the sight of you sprawled out on his bed — a sight not uncommon to him on nights you spent over, but never like this before. He leans on the bed carefully, mattress creaking ever so slightly under his weight, as he begins to clean you gently — and luckily, you don’t wake by the time he’s done. He can’t put your jeans or underwear on so he opts to grab a pair of his freshly washed shorts and slides them on you. He adjusts the blanket, draping it over you, running his fingers through your hair to tuck it behind your ear, and the back of his knuckles over your cheek.

“Yuji,” you mumble in your sleep, and he bites his lip — as he returns to his bathroom, softly shutting the bedroom door and the bathroom door behind him, a glaring problem to deal with, as he is still nearly waddling at this point from the grazing of his boxers against his aching erection.

He undoes his jeans quickly, eyes fluttering as he pushes both down and strips his shirt off before slipping into the shower. The squeak of the shower faucet and the water running hopefully don’t wake you — but more importantly, he hopes his moans don’t.

His dick was rock hard and aching still — there were so many times he nearly came in his pants, and by how drenched his boxers were — maybe he had. But fuck, you were so gorgeous, laid back and spread out for him.

His fingers grazed his weeping cock, smearing the precum up and down his length, thumb tracing his slit, as you would. He could see you thumbing his head experimentally, as your eyes flickered up at him, doe eyes, yet glazed over with lust. It wouldn’t be long until you’re slowly pumping him, as he does now — from base to tip, teasing his balls all the same. You’d flick your tongue over the tip, sucking at the dripping precum — wrinkle your nose at the salty taste, but you’d suck at his tip all the same.

He’d look down at you as your hand switches to toying with his balls, as you let his cock slap against your tongue, before letting his length slip past your lips. Your lips would feel so much softer than his hand does right now, jerking himself off, your plush lips and tongue wrapped around his dick. A low groan escapes his lips, as he covers his mouth, hoping you couldn’t hear him over the running water. The squelch of his precum and his soft moans would only make him want to repay the favor, making you cum over and over, until you were begging him to stop.

Fuck, he was close, by the way his cock twitched in his hand — where would he cum with you? He’d cum anywhere you wanted — but to cum on your face or chest, the image made him shudder. Your tongue would flick out to clean up some of the cum, and—

Fuck, he moans your name, as he cums all over his fingers, his release sprayed against the tile of his shower, dripping down and mixing with the water. He’s panting, as he cleans his hand off in the shower, leaning his head back.

What has he gotten himself into? Was it right for him to do this? You didn’t know how he felt — and he didn’t know if you would ever feel the same. But as he got dressed and crawled into bed beside you, keeping his distance as you slept, he felt you move closer, mumbling his name as you did. He couldn’t help but softly smile, running his fingers through his hair—it didn’t matter if you never ended up loving him, as long as you knew what you deserved—to be with someone who loved you, as much or even more than he did.

He let himself drift off, a loose arm thrown over your middle—he’d let himself have this, if only for now.

“Oh come on, you couldn’t get the ad free version, Fushiguro?” Nobara complains as yet another commercial comes on, as she glares at the black haired vet student, who sat on the floor after she stole his armchair.

He only shrugs, bearing little to no reaction, “If you’re going to complain, then why don’t you pay for it?”

Nobara and him begin to bicker ever so slightly, and Yuji chuckles in your ear, “are they more fun to watch then the show?”

The four of you were at your apartment, watching a new season of a TV show you all had started last year. You were sat next to Yuji on the couch, your bodies nearly pressed against each other as you shared the blanket, a little cold from the rain outside.

“They’re always more entertaining than the show, that’s why we agree to this,” you whisper back, the proximity of your bodies making your cheeks burn. You turn away, hoping he can’t feel or even hear the way your heart was beating down your ribs to burst free. Every time he shifted even slightly, you felt your body react — so conscious of even a twitch of his fingers — you wanted to bury yourself under the blanket.

It had been like this since that night.

You had woken up to him asleep beside you. Your eyes fluttered open as consciousness slowly crept into focus, sunlight filtering into sight, a small groan leaving your lips. And it wasn’t until you tried to reach for your phone you realized the thing beside you wasn’t a pillow but a person.

Your eyes flew open and you found Yuji still sound asleep beside you. It wasn’t unusual for the two of you to sleep on the same bed — especially after a late night where one or the other didn’t want to go home — but it was different to wake up entangled with him, especially after the events of the night before came flooding back.

And after that, each time you had been around him, you had become more and more conscious of his touch, nervous even, at the simplest of brushes of his fingers. And this? His body pressed against yours, his fingers grazing your thigh nearly, and his soft breath against your ear — god, you were going to lose it.

“You ok?” he murmurs a half an hour later, and the question itself makes you squirm — because no, your hot best friend was pressed against you and making you want to do nothing more than kiss him—

Wait, wait, hot? Your mind stutters at your own thoughts, lagging to comprehend yourself — hot? You wanted to kiss him? You always knew Yuji was hot, he was objectively — especially based on how many of your friends had wanted you to hook them up with him — but you had never thought of him that way. Maybe in passing — but to you, that was the one line you could never cross, especially when you had seen so many friendships fall apart because of a relationship.

You never wanted to risk Yuji like that.

But then here you were — blurring that line you said you never cross — and letting the ground split underneath the two of you.

“I’m fine,” you mumble back — and yet here he was, seemingly unfazed by your proximity and as the minutes ticked by, it began to eat away at you. Did he not find it as meaningful as you did? Did he not feel as good as you? Do you need to touch him just to make him feel just as heartsick as you were?

And now you know what you wanted to do.

As the show went on, Nobara and Fushiguro fell asleep — Fushiguro asleep with a cushion he had stolen from Nobara’s armchair and Nobara curled up in said armchair, passed out.

“Should we stop the show and go to bed?” Yuji asks you, albeit innocently — but there was anything but innocent intentions in your mind when you shake your head, a smile on your lips.

“Let’s keep watching,” your fingers grazes his thigh, as you lean over, lips nearly brushing against his ear, “it’s just getting interesting, right?”

And his breath hitches, “what’re you—“ and your fingers inches higher, grazing over his already tenting erection, a hiss escapes his lips, as he’s covering his mouth.

“Shh, don’t wake them,” and your fingers are ghosting and teasing over his cock, the precum already starting to seep through the fabric, as he shifts under your touch. Your thumb flicks over his head, now fully hard, “so big already,” you mumble, and now your lips press sweet kisses to his neck, finding small cuts and bruises from his practices, and a gasp escaped his lips.

“We shouldn’t be doing this—“ and your lips find his, and he melts so easily into your touch, your fingers toy with the elastic of his shorts, his eyes flickering to the two sleeping. He’s pulling away for a breath, lips utterly ruined — his fingers running through his hair, “please—“ and your lips curl.

Your fingers finally brush against his leaking cock, and his head falls back, his cheeks flushed a pretty pink, lips parted as soft pants left his lips. And you’re nearly shivering yourself at his want — seeping into your own body, as his pants and moans send a wave of heat between your thighs.

You rub your thighs together, as you shift even closer somehow, “Gotta be quiet Yu — they can hear us after all,” you murmur, right as your thumb swipes over his slit, a yelp caught in his throat, as his hand flies back to lips, “good boy,” and his dick twitches at the praise, as your finger begins to trace along his veins, “so big, how am I going to fit you inside?” you murmur, biting back a smirk when a muffled groan reaches your ears.

Your fingers finally curl around his length, you never thought a cock to be pretty — but Yuji’s was. You stared at it under the covers, flushed a lovely red, too dripping pearly beads of precum, and the slight curve it had to it — made the ache in your cunt only grow.

“Please, baby, I need, please—“ he’s whining, “I need you—“

And you oblige him, your hand beginning to spread the pre along his length, beginning to stroke him slowly from base to tip. He’s biting his lip, hard, nearly drawing blood as he chooses to bury his face in the crook of your neck, if only to muffle any moans that fell from his lips.

“S’good for me, Yu, wanna make you feel as good as I did,” his moan vibrates against your skin, cock twitching in your fingers, “gonna move faster, don’t want our friends to see you like this, do you? You have to be quiet,” and god, why did only seem to get harder at your words?

Your fingers begin to jerk him off in earnest, the wet squelch of his cock nearly not hidden enough by the volume of the TV, but nearly don’t care at this point — you just want him to fall apart under your touch, need him to.

And oh, he’s so close. His groans are more frequent, his hips jerking against your fist, and when your other hand finds his balls, squeezing — it’s too much.

He moans softly, “I’m—“ and that’s all he manages before he spills on your fingers — warm, white spurts splatter against your palm and the blanket, dripping, as he falls back, limp against the sofa. His cock softened in your hand, as you pull it away, before gently wiping him clean with the already drenched blanket.

He’s panting and fucked out, eyes half lidded as his chest rises and falls, watching you lick your fingers clear of his release, gaze never leaving his.

“Didn’t know you’d taste this good—“ you barely can manage, before he’s leaning forward to kiss you. Your fingers slide against his cheek to cup it, feeling his hand tangle itself in your hair, “Yuji—“

“What was that about?” he murmurs, “not that I’m complaining but—“ but then Megumi starts to move and you both freeze, your breath catching, until Megumi seemingly falls back asleep, “we should head to bed, but—“

He looks at the blanket, and the mess you made of him and the couch alike.

“The blanket I’ll toss in the washer, the cushion I’ll clean up and just turn over—“ and you smile, “and you take a shower before bed,”

His brow still knits together, “but we haven’t—“

“We’ll talk later,” and when later came, Yuji found you fast asleep in bed, with more questions than answers. But he supposed, as he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, his answers could come later.

How long has it been?

You stared at your phone — as if you could will it to receive the message you’ve been waiting for. As if it would grant your one and only wish for a text or a call — but it didn’t. Instead, it only gave you a spam call and a text to let you know you had a discount code for your favorite takeout place.

Great.

It had been a week since you had heard from Yuji — and a week since that night. You had woken up to the other three gone — gone off to their own apartments after you had slept in and texts on your phone from them in the groupchat. It was a few days before break — before you and Yuji would be heading back home for a few days together. But you hadn’t seen him at all since — not a chance to talk, much less seeing him.

Was he upset? Was he done with this? Was his promise to stay empty in the end? Was it your fault — for pushing it, for agreeing to it, and for falling for it all the same? Falling for it or — your eyes trace the screen of your phone as if it’s his cheek — or falling for him.

No, you rake your fingers through your hair, no, you didn’t love him — not like that. Not the way you shouldn’t, the way you had sworn yourself never to — but maybe all promises between friends were empty, when they were made like this.

But you weren’t made to let this break apart.

You found yourself at his door after classes, knocking at his door of his apartment. The door opens, and you find Yuji rubbing his eyes, hair askew, and shoulders drooped.

“Hey,” he yawned, he’s still shaking off the shackles of sleep, “sorry, what’s up?”

“Are you okay?” Your furrow your brow, your eyes spot the dark bags under his eyes, large enough to nearly engulf his eyes all together, “you look like you haven’t slept in days,” he steps aside to let you in, you glance around, his apartment wasn’t usually the cleanest — but it wasn’t a wreck like it was now. Clothes scattered, unwashed dishes stacked up, and papers strewn about.

“I just haven’t…been sleeping—“ and then you remember.

It wasn’t about you. It was about him. And you were so wrapped up in yourself, you weren’t thinking about him.

“Yuji, you’re having those nightmares again, aren’t you?” You murmur softly, and the way his gaze falls to the ground tells you everything you need to know, “alright, go lay down,”

“What?” he’s blinking, but your hand already finds his as you take him to his bedroom, “what are you—“

“You lay down. I’m going to make you dinner, and then you’re going to sleep,” and he sits on the bed reluctantly, fingers against his knees, as he bit his lip.

“I can’t sleep, I told you—“ you cup his cheek, and guide his gaze to yours.

“Remember what we’d do when you couldn’t sleep after the accident?”

“This feels ridiculous,” Yuji murmurs into your chest, his head buried there, while your fingers run softly through his pink locks, “we’re not six anymore—“

“So what? Doesn’t mean we can’t do this still,” you say, as your fingers pause, “unless you don’t want me to,”

“I didn’t say that,” he mumbles, and you can hear the blush in his voice that undoubtedly painted his cheeks, “I just meant it feels like I’m bothering—“

“Yu, don’t make me pinch you,” you murmur, rubbing his head, “you’re never a bother,” you kiss his head softly without thinking, and soon your cheeks are burning too, “sorry I didn’t—“

“Why are you sorry?” He chuckles, “we’ve done a lot more than kiss recently,” and he adds, “especially you,”

You bite your lip, glad he couldn’t see your face like this, “I thought that’s why you weren’t talking to me, I thought you didn’t like what I did…on the couch, you know—“

“I know,” he chuckles this time, “and how could I not like that?” And you swallow the lump in your throat, as the two of you fall into a comfortable silence that you choose to breach.

“You haven’t had these nightmares in a while,” you murmur quietly, before you add, “we don’t have to talk—“

“I know, but it happens from time to time, especially this month,” and your brow furrows, “don’t wrinkle your forehead at me,” and you lean back to gape at him, a smile pulling at his lips, “you always do that when you find out I’m keeping something from you,”

He moves ever so slightly away, turning to look at the ceiling, “Well I think I have a right because this is a pretty big thing to keep from me, Yu,” you pout, and your fingers begin to absentmindedly trace his jaw, his eyes fluttering shut — you always treated him so gently, like that something that could shatter, but he knew you would always be there to put him back together. Because you did that once already. Over a decade ago, “why didn’t you tell me?”

Because he didn’t want to worry you. Because he didn’t want you to think of him still as that broken kid you watched after when he had his world fall apart.

Because he didn’t want you to take that burden — he wanted to handle it himself.

“I didn’t want to bother you—“

“It’s never a bother when it’s you,” and his voice catches in his throat — fuck, how did you always know just what to say?

He takes a breath, “it’s just the same dream. Of the crash,” he could see something so clearly that he never experienced. He was at home with you when the crash happened — a play date Yuji had insisted on when he had cried and begged his parents to stay with you instead of going to dinner with them. They had relented — and that was the thing that left him alone.

It was lucky that his grandfather was able to take him in, and stay close by — so he still got to go to school with you.

“Let’s try to sleep, ok?” You murmur, “you’ll feel better when you sleep,” you cup his cheek, and he’s biting his lip, “what is it?”

“What if I see it again?” He whispers, as if he’s afraid that his words were any louder he would speak it into existence.

“Come here,” you say softly, your fingers gently guide his head to face you, “I’ll keep you safe, I promise,” A sigh leaves his lips as he moves closer, letting you engulf him in your arms, his eyes shutting, and letting himself relax for a moment — the first moment in far too many days.

When he let himself slip into sleep’s embrace—it was the first night he didn’t dream of the crash — he dreamt of you.

And when he woke in your arms in the morning, your soft lips parted as you slept, sunlight dappled on your skin through his window, and the way your fingers held onto the fabric of his shirt — he knew, he knew he had to tell you how he felt.

He needed to end this — his fingers brushing a strand of hair behind your ear — if only to begin something new.

You had to end it — it hadn’t sunk in until the car drove back home. The quiet morning drive left you both in a comfortable silence, the quiet white noise of his playlist, along with Yuji’s terrible singalongs and your bickering over his music choice. And you found yourself more than once staring at him as he drove, to the point where he had caught you looking.

“What?” He tilts his head when the light turned red, fingers drumming on the steering, the other poking your side.

“Nothing,” and you’re playfully slapping his hand away, a smile on your lips — same smile you always had with him. Always—because he’s your best friend. But he was so much more than that.

You were in love.

The two of you had returned to the place where you had laid your roots to rest and let your seed scatter to the wind. Only to return as a different flower altogether — but you knew, you couldn’t let it go on.

It had become painfully clear that morning, you had woken first, the sun had not peaked over the horizon yet, and you found Yuji fast asleep — breaths even and face relaxed. You knew his parents had scarred him deeply — he spoke of them often, but not at all at — he mentioned their presence, but never his own feelings. You knew he had a habit of putting others above himself — but you had missed this — all of this week, you could have been there for him, but you were caught up in your own thoughts and you had made it all about yourself.

And he deserved more than that.

He deserved more than you.

And you couldn’t risk losing him — lose him in a stupid argument or a disagreement and then never be able to comfort him again? Never be able to be by his side? You couldn’t bear to even fathom that.

“Nanamin was asking about you,” Yuji says as the two of you walk home from the local convenience store — a late night run that produced a familiar bag of treats the two of you always shared when you came back home.

“Oh really? Are classes over for high school already?” The English literature teacher had taken Yuji in for his last year and half of high school after his grandfather passed, and Yuji always stayed with him on breaks.

“He asked if you were going to come with us to see my parents tomorrow morning,” it was a tradition to go visit Yuji’s parents graves each year around this time — you always paid your respects whenever you could, “he also said you’re free to stay over, but you have to sleep in a different bedroom,” you snort, “he said and I quote ‘we are past the age of sharing a room,’” You laugh, cheeks burning as you shake your head, “he’s not exactly wrong though,” his fingers graze yours, and there’s nothing more you want than to take his hand, but you know one way or another, you’d drop it in the end. Wouldn’t it be better now? When there isn’t far to fall?

So you do, letting your hand fall away from his.

“I’d be happy to see your parents, but I don’t know if staying over is a good idea—“ and he’s shaking his head with a chuckle in his throat.

“Don’t worry, I won’t do anything you don’t want to—“

“We should stop, Yuji,” and his smile slips off his face as if it was slapped off, he blinks, shock settling into confusion.

“Why?” Only one word and it manages to break you all the same.

“We just shouldn’t. This was supposed to be about teaching me, but i think I’ve learned enough,” you’re turning away, but his fingers are gently finding your wrist, “Yuji—“

“You don’t think I can’t tell when you’re lying?” Yuji asks, and your glass-like facade shatters so easily — why does it always have to break so readily when it comes to him?

But you pull away all the same, “I can’t do this anymore. Not like this. I don’t want to. I can’t lose you—“

“You won’t lose me—“ but you’re already walking off, sparing a glance back.

“I’ll see you tomorrow morning when we leave, Yuji,” and he’s opening his mouth to call out, but he stops himself, watching you disappear up the street.

What just happened?

The car ride to the cemetery is notably silent. Yuji’s eyes burned when he woke, head aching from the circles he ran around in last night, trying to figure out what happened. Nanami drives in the quiet, his eyes noting when Yuji chooses to sit passenger instead of beside you, only with one glance that’s averted after Yuji refuses to meet it.

Yuji didn’t know what to make of what you said. After everything, he thought maybe — just maybe, you felt the same as he did. He thought he could tell you tomorrow, tell you when the two of you were alone — and even if it didn’t work out, it would be okay.

But now — as his eyes stole a look at you in the rear view mirror, he wondered if it ever would be okay again.

You left the car a moment to go use the bathroom when they stopped to fill gas in the car, and that’s when Nanami speaks.

“So did you finally ask her out and she said no?” And Yuji’s head snaps to his, but Nanami only stares back, “you aren’t hard to read, Itadori. You’ve liked her for a long time,”

Yuji scratches the back of his head, “I did something, kinda stupid,” and Nanami tilts his head, “really stupid, ok? And I was going to tell her how I felt, but she broke off what we were doing—“

“You weren’t dating?” Yuji’s cheeks burn as he waves off his teacher.

“That’s not important! But what do I do, Nanamin?” the blond haired teacher raised an eyebrow.

“It’s not hard to know what to do, Itadori. It’s what you should have done. Tell her how you feel,” and then you’re walking back to the car, “come on, let’s get back. We’re close now.”

And your gaze avoids his own when Yuji watches you get back in the car, and his lips part as if to stop you — but he doesn’t.

Not yet.

You stood with Yuji as he tended to his parents’ graves. Simple stones that he was able to put in with time from his part time jobs, ones he had insisted he would pay for himself — refusing any help from anyone, even you. You knelt down, helping him clear the strewn dead leaves, brushing away dirt and snow — your fingers brushing when you both reach for the same place.

And your eyes meet, as both of your fingers intertwine slowly — the three of you pay your respects, and Nanami finally stands.

“I’ll wait for you two at the car,” Nanami says with a nod, leaving the two of you alone. You both already had placed offerings at their graves, arranging them slowly, as the two of you stand, the silence of the cemetery hanging overhead — light streaming in between clouds in the overcast sky, the sounds of the wind rustling the trees the only thing in the quiet.

“Thank you for coming,” Yuji says softly, and your blink, eyes sliding to his.

“You never have to thank me for that, Yuji,” you squeeze his hand, “as long as you want me to come, I’ll always be here. And I’ll always pay my respects to your parents, regardless of that,” you say, and that's exactly why you had to stop with him. You couldn’t bear to lose him — lose this, not when he’s lost too much and he was too much for you to lose, “come on, we should get back to the car,” as you pull your hand away from his.

And maybe things could get back to normal.

“I know,” and he doesn’t move as you turn to leave, “and that’s why I love you,”

And you smile, “I love you too—“

“I don’t mean it like that,” and you freeze a moment, his words barely processing before he continues to speak, “I mean I do love you in that way too — but that’s not how I meant it now,” he says, as you turn to face him — not finding a hint of humor on his expression.

“Yuji—“ your brain can barely process your best friend confessing to you — much less next to his parents’ graves— “should we be having this conversation—“

“It’s the perfect place to have this conversation,” he glances around at all of the graves, and he’s shaking his head, “maybe not the perfect place, but—“ his gaze softens when he finds yours, “you saved me,”

“Yuji—“

“No, you did. After my parents died,” he stares at the stones side by side — “I could barely function. I barely wanted to do anything but sleep — but you, you pulled me out of bed. You made me go places. You made me smile again,” he says, “but that’s not the reason I fell in love with you,” his lips curl into a soft smile, “it’s because it’s you — your smile, your laugh, your being — it reminded me of happiness existed, and then I realized you were the only person who could make me happy the way you do,”

“Yuji—“

“It’s okay if you don’t feel the same. But I don’t want to lose you, lose this chance to tell you how I feel, to tell you—“

“Yuji—“

“And I’ve always loved you — there’s never been—“ and you’re hugging him, before you even know you are, your arms are around his middle, face buried in his chest, as he murmurs your name.

“The only reason I broke it off was,” your voice wavers despite your efforts to force it to stay even, “I didn’t to lose you by not being good enough—“

“You just have to be you,” his brow furrowed into the same valleys he teased you for, “you’re all I need,” his hand finds your cheek, guiding your gaze to his, “how could you think you weren’t enough?”

“You don’t tell how you feel sometimes — you don’t tell me what you’re thinking, I didn’t even know you had nightmares—“ you break off, “what if we continued this and you realized you deserved better than me? And it was already too late for me because I love—“ you break off.

“You what?” he asks, and you’re biting your lip, “I’ll say it again if it will make you—“

Fuck it.

You lean up and press your lips to his, swallowing his words as your hand finds purchase on his shoulder. And it felt right. As it always did with Yuji.

“I love you too,” you whisper against his lips, “I love you, in the same way you do,”

“As a friend?” And your brow furrows, “kidding! Kidding—ow!” You’re smacking him playfully, before he catches both of your wrists and pulls you close, “does that mean I can call you mine?”

“Or baby,” and he flushes, a cute pout on his lips, “what? Isn’t it—“ and he’s kissing you again, your heart leaping as he does, his hands sliding around your hips, “Yu-“

“And what’s my pet name? You still haven’t given me one—“

“Have some decorum,” a voice cuts through, and the two of you jump apart, as Nanami stands, glaring at the two of you, “come on, if you’re done paying your respects, then we should go home,” he sighs, rubbing his temples, “the dead shouldn’t have to put up with this.”

Yuji’s cheeks are tomato red at this point — as he covers his face— but you only chuckle, your fingers intertwining with his, squeezing, “c’mon let’s go, and maybe I can give you a pet name when we get home,” and you both turn to face his parents, as you pay your respects and head down the path a little.

Yuji faces his parents, kneeling down to say goodbye again — and he remembers how it was their idea to set up Yuji to have a playdate with you, all those years ago. And now, here you were — the most important person in his life.

“Thank you for everything you did for me,” and he glances at you over his shoulder as he gets up, “especially for helping me find her.”

“Yu-ji—“ you gasp, as he’s tugging you into your bedroom, bumping himself carelessly into the wall as he guides you both to your bedroom. You giggle as he presses you against the wall outside your room, “I text you my parents are going out for dinner and this is how you greet me? What happened to hello—“

His lips crash against yours and you forget about ‘hello’ and just about every other word in your head. Your lips curl against his lips, as his body cages you against the wall. It had been a few days since you and Yuji had been able to have a moment alone—Nanami was watching you both cautiously, while your parents had been keeping you busy at home, seeing family or cleaning up around the house. And Yuji was growing increasingly desperate for some time with you — that wasn’t hidden brushes of fingers under the table or stolen kisses out of sight from family or friends.

“I missed you so much, baby,” he’s murmuring — and you didn’t know it was so possible to look like a kicked puppy so much until you met Yuji, “can’t believe Nanami was so mean and kept making us keep the door open—“

“It didn’t help that he walked in us making out on your bed three times—“ and a moan escapes your lips as he kisses your neck, teeth grazing against your racing pulse, “fuck, Yu—“

“How do you always taste so good?” he mumbles against you as he leads you inside your bedroom and shuts the door. His eyes glance around your childhood room, as he takes in the childhood posters plastered on the walls, the untouched books, the stuffed animals from a millennium ago that still lined your bed.

“My family has not changed much here for years,” your cheeks burn, as he only chuckles, walking you backwards into your bed, and you climb into the bed, only grabbing a stuffed animal from behind you, “remember this?”

He snorts, as he takes the stuffed penguin from your hands, “How could I forget? I tried a million times to win this,”

You tilt your head, “You said you won it your first try—“ and you gasp as he looks away, cheeks flushed, “you were trying to impress me,”

“Not that much,” and you’re leaning closer, brushing your lips against his, “maybe just a little,” you kiss him more insistently this time, sliding against his, fingers curling in his soft strands, “maybe too much,” and you smirk, noses bumping as your lips find each other’s again and again.

And your fingers slide down to drag his shirt up and over, freeing his chest and abs to your sight — and what a sight it is. So toned and tanned from his American football practices in the sun — perfect for your fingers and lips to explore the peaks and valleys of his body, hands already far too eager.

He returns the favor by lifting your own shirt off in an instant, groaning when he finds you wearing nothing underneath — your eyes can’t help but flit down and find his erection already tenting in his sweatpants.

“Fuck, baby, you’re so perfect,” his eager hands are already teasing and palming you breasts, a whimper drawn out by his precise pinches and touches, “so good for me,” and your hands drag down his chest, leaning down to press kisses to his chest as your fingers trace along his abs, making him groan.

He’s pouting, after he pulls you into another kiss, “it’s not fair,” he mumbles into the side of your neck, “I feel like I’m always the one who’s more nervous than you are,”

You chuckle, kissing his jaw, “I felt the same way, why do you think I touched you on our TV marathon that night?”

And he’s blinking, as you lay back on the bed for him, “you didn’t know—“ you shake your head.

“You had offered to help get experience, and even when we had done things, you were just so…normal,” he chuckles, before laying beside you.

“I had some practice acting normal around you, but I really didn’t. I think you nearly gave me a heart attack that night,” and you grin, drawing so close that you even feel the hitch of his breath.

“That good, huh?” You tease, and it only takes a moment until he’s hovering over you, lust pooled in his gaze that lights a fire on your body wherever it lays.

And his lips meet yours right after he whispers, “I’ll show you good.”

“One more, baby,” Yuji tells you, but you barely hear it through the haze of pleasure and heat that fills the room, along with the sounds of the squelch of his fingers in your tight cunt, “just need one more,”

And how many times had he made you orgasm already? You’d lost count — five or six at least. The first had taken some time, working his finger into your weeping slit, the way your walls stretch around him make you wonder how good it will feel when he fucks you. It’s not long before he’s sinking another finger in, the sounds and feelings of his digits curling is enough to bring you to orgasm. And the rest are a blur — another finger in your tight entrance, fucking you open as he toyed with your walls, until you came again and again.

And now he bent down, lips around your clit, teasing and sucking at the sensitive bud, as your fingers curled in his pink locks as the lewd moans fell from your mouth with ease. You’re so close — so fucking close, and when his fingertips brush against that spot and it’s all too much.

You cum around his fingers and mouth, his name on your lips as you do, back arching against him, as he eases his fingers from your cunt. He licks his fingers clean as your eyes flutter open to meet his, “You taste so good, baby — you’re perfect,” and you watch as his tongue flicks out to clean his lips and chin of your sticky release.

And soon enough he’s kissing you, hand cupping your cheek, letting you taste yourself on his lips, as your fingers drag over his bare chest and follow his happy trail into the elastic of his boxers. A soft moan leaves his kiss ruined lips, as his eyes are lidded with lust, soft pants against your skin.

“Is this a dream?” Yuji murmurs, his lips ghosting along your jaw, “never thought we would get here,” and you turn your head to meet his lips in another sweet kiss.

“It isn’t, we’re here. Took us long enough,” your lips curl, your fingers tracing over his cheek, “and nowhere else I rather be — or no one else I rather be with,”

“You sure?” And you’ve flipped him over, kissing down his body, fingers tugging at the elastic of his boxers until his dick is freed from the fabric, “fuck, baby, you don’t have—“

And his words are cut off with a grunt as your fingers grazes his erection, teasing his weeping head. You start to pump up and down, working the thick beads of precum over his length, his head falling back.

“How’s your cock so pretty, Yu?” you coo, blowing air over his dick, making him twitch in your hand, “never thought one of these would ever be so pretty,” you let his length slap against your tongue, slowly dragging it down your

He hisses, hands grasping at the sheets, as you bend down to flick his tongue against the head of his cock. Your lips close around it, and suck, raising the back of his hand to cover his mouth, “fuck, s’good, baby, I—“

And you’re letting his cock sink past your lips, your tongue flicking against his slit. Your eyes find his own, as you hollow out your cheeks and sucking hard, and his hips buck into your mouth. His tip brushes against your throat, and you’re moaning around him, your fingers cup his balls, nails digging into your scalp.

“Baby, fuck, I’m close—where—“ and he’s trying to ease you off, but your hands only hold his hips in place. Your nose brushing against his pubes. And when you’re suck hard on his tip, toying with his sack, only for him to moan your name, before cumming down your throat, his hot release painting your insides.

You’re slowly pulling off his dick, a string of cum and spit connecting your lips to his cock, a smile on your face. You swallow his release, the salty taste still on your lips as you watch him pant, chest rising and falling.

“Taste so good, Yu,” you murmur, and you’re moving back up to kiss him, “think I’m addicted,” you murmur, as your lips find each other again and again.

“Now you know how I feel,” he smiles, fingers running through your hair, “been addicted to you for over a decade,” and he’s sitting up, guiding you into his lap slowly, “we can always stop right here, we don’t have—“

You kiss him softly, the way he deserved, the way you’ve wanted to for so long, “I want to, Yuji, I really want to,” your fingers intertwine with his, squeezing his hand, his arm slipping around your waist, “because I love you,”

And your fingers grasp his hardening cock, pressing it to your dripping slit, and god, he’s so fucking big. You knew how big he was, but just feeling him pressed against you makes you ache at how he’ll be stretching you out. He drags his dripping tip against your slit, letting your cum mix together, letting his head catch on your clit.

Finally, you’re sinking onto him, his thick length parting your walls, inch by inch. Your head falls back, as he leans into your touch, watching you flinch at the stretch, “you okay?” Yuji’s pressing sweet kisses to your lips and cheek, “should I stop—“

“No, no, I’m fine, it’s starting to feel good,” your arms wrapping around his neck, burying your face in the crook of his neck, “ and he’s helping you sink into him, until finally your hips are flush to his, “fuck, Yu—you’re so deep—“ his cock twitches against your walls, a shiver up his spine at your words.

And he’s panting, his lips pressed to your shoulder, “you feel s’good, baby — so wet and warm—“ you smile, cupping his cheek, “can’t believe this is real — can’t believe—“

“It’s real, Yuji, it’s real,” your lips curl into a smile, “I’m here, I love you,”

“I love you too, I love you so much,” he kisses you again and again, as he shifts slowly under you, swallowing a gasp that leaves your lips.

“Please, Yuji, move—“ and he obliges, beginning to fuck into you, and your head falls back, as his cock rocks into you, a moan falling from your lips as you do. He’s groaning your name again and again, a grunt when you begin to ride him in tandem, both of your thrusts sending him deeper into you.

“Baby, fuck, you’re perfect. You’re so good f’me,” his lips finding your neck, as his strokes become faster and deeper, the sounds of your skin slapping together rings in your ears as he fucks you harder and harder, “g’nna cum, s’close,“

“I’m close too,” you’re panting as his lips find yours in a sloppy, messy kiss that has you losing yourself more and more, as his thrusts become more and more swallow. And when he finds your clit between your bodies, rubbing as he finds that one spot that has you seeing stars, “Yuji- I’m—“

And you cum hard around him, soaking his cock and thighs as you do, walls squeezing him tight until he’s spilling his warm seed inside you. You slow as you do, legs quivering, as you nearly slump against him and he holds you impossibly closer. He helps you both detangle, easing his softening cock from inside you, a small groan as he sees your mixed releases leaking from you. He helps you lie back, as he wraps his arms around you, running his fingers through your hair.

“Are you okay?” he whispers, brow furrowed in slight worry as your eyes flutter open, lips curling as your fingers smooth the wrinkles of his forehead.

“I’d be better if you’d kiss me,” you whisper and he obliges, a soft kiss to your lips that leaves you warmer than you were before, “now I’m perfect,”

“You always were,” and you chuckle, rolling your eyes, before shaking your head, burying your face in the crook of his neck.

“No, that’s because I had an excellent teacher,” and he laughs, before he pulls you even closer, finding your lips in a kiss.

“And you always will.”

“Come on, Fushiguro, pay up,” Nobara holds out her hand, as Megumi glares, pulling out his wallet and plucking money from his wallet and handing it to her.

“You cheated,” he says as she snatches the money, counting it with a grin on her lips, “I don’t know what you did, but I know you did,”

“You never said we couldn’t give them advice,” she grins, as she pockets his money, “and all I did was give Yuji a nudge, he’s the one who fucked—“

“Alright,” Megumi rubs his temples, “I get it, but it’s still unfair — we’ve been waiting for them to get together all these years and all of sudden he gets the idea to become her friends with benefits—“ and Nobara only grins wider, “you didn’t—“

She shrugs, “you can wait around for two idiots to figure it out, or you can shove them off the deep end.”

“I knew you cheated,” Megumi grumbles, “that’s the last time I ever make a bet with you, Kugisaki,”

And she smirks, “Well now you’ve been taught a lesson too.”

✧ a/n: another celebration fic done! now just one more and then i can start preparing for the next follower celebration :). i've settled on using wips but i'll pick out a bunch of prompts for you all to request for certain ones. that way, you all have had a hand in them <3. thank you to laney for helping beta <3.

✧ taglist: @adrenova, @nakariabnrb, @skvllknight, @hanlay, @spider-fan72, @anonimusunnoaniswriting, @chososcamgirl, @thenezuko, @catsgomurp, @too-much-snow, @sashaiko, @forest-fruits-jam, @rita-ritarita, @anyaeuh, @dezznuggetsblog, @jayathelostdragon, @newspapergirlmal, @2livelaughlovefictionalmen2, @being-me-is-not-a-sin, @xoocii, @firelordazulaaaa, @cira273, @twosec0nd, @ororomunroro, @sunamatic, @withoutanameyet, @gojorgeous, @masctomboy805, @hantaslittlearsonist, @lemonpoppy-seed, @malmare, @teraine, @boopadoopa333, @jeyughh, @coffeebun17, @faeryli, @katienaps, @tojbitch, @fushitoru, @soulofoz, @yamaguccitadashi

#sab [mlist]#yuji itadori x reader #yuji itadori smut #yuji itadori fanfiction #yuji itadori fluff #yuji itadori x you #jjk smut #jjk fanfiction #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #itadori yuji x reader #itadori yuji smut #itadori yuuji x reader #itadori yuuji fanfiction

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unabletonotlovesatoru · 16 days ago

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. . . they say, “the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach”, you know?

🍜 ⊹₊ ⋆~ synopsis: after a long day, you prepare a simple meal for nanami, a quiet customer who unexpectedly walks into your restaurant. his frequent visits and the conversations that follow spark a deeper connection between you two, turning these small moments into something much more meaningful.

⋆·˚ ༘ * teddy’s notes: i hope the saying is true irl too because a way to my heart is definitely through my stomach and im not even a man so yk. just something cutesy for you guys to enjoy!! (also if yk the artist pls tell me so i can credit them i couldn’t find anything on pinterest/google)

⋆·˚ ༘ * contains: ~4500 words!! pure fluff, chef!reader, gender neutral!reader, cute themes, just nanami loving your food.

it was late on a quiet weeknight when nanami— just a “handsome stranger” at the time— stepped into your small restaurant. the usual dinner rush had long since ended, leaving only the soft hum of the overhead lights and the distant sound of passing cars outside. you were just finishing up for the night, wiping down the counters and stacking dishes, when the gentle chime of the doorbell broke the silence.

you turned, surprised to see a customer this late. he stood just inside the entrance, his broad frame taking up more space than he seemed to intend. his tie was loosened, the top button of his shirt undone, and a faint trace of exhaustion clung to his features—though he still held himself with quiet composure.

“good evening,” you greeted with a smile, setting your dish towel aside. “we’re actually about to close, but can I help you with something?”

nanami’s gaze drifted over the restaurant, taking in the neatly arranged tables, the warm glow of the hanging lanterns, the faint scent of broth still lingering in the air. he exhaled softly, then looked at you.

“i don’t mean to impose,” he said, voice low, steady. “but i could really go for something simple… just something nice after a long day. i don’t want to take up too much of your time, though.”

his tone was polite, but there was a weight behind his words—a quiet kind of weariness that made you hesitate.

you glanced at the clock. technically, you had planned to close up soon, but…

you looked back at him. something about the way he stood there, tired yet restrained, made you pause.

“well,” you said, tilting your head slightly, “i could make you something quick, if you’re okay with something light.” you smiled, trying to ease the hesitancy in his expression. “it wouldn’t be any trouble.”

nanami studied you for a moment before offering a small, grateful nod. “thank you. i appreciate it.”

without another word, you slipped back into the kitchen, tying your apron back into place. the restaurant was quiet, save for the soft clatter of your utensils as you worked. the rhythmic chop of vegetables filled the space, followed by the gentle simmer of broth as you prepared something warm and comforting.

through the small opening between the kitchen and the counter, you could see nanami sitting at one of the barstools, his hands resting on the counter. he wasn’t looking at his phone or checking the time—he just sat there, still and present, taking in the atmosphere.

you found yourself watching him for a second longer than necessary before shaking yourself out of it.

it didn’t take long before the dish was ready. a fresh bowl of ramen, simple yet rich in flavor, with perfectly balanced ingredients. something warm, something soothing. something to ease the tension in his shoulders, even if just for a little while.

carefully, you set the steaming bowl in front of him.

“here you go,” you said with a smile. “hope this helps after your long day.”

nanami looked at the dish, then back at you, something unreadable flickering in his gaze. he picked up his chopsticks, lifting the first bite to his lips.

then, as he tasted it, his posture changed—just slightly. his eyes softened, his shoulders relaxed, and the faintest trace of surprise crossed his face.

“this is…” he paused, considering his words. finally, he exhaled, setting his chopsticks down for a moment. “this is really good.”

the sincerity in his voice made warmth bloom in your chest.

“i’m glad,” you said, watching as he took another bite.

you smiled, feeling a sense of pride well up inside you as you watched him eat. his face lit up, and his eyes closed for a brief moment as he savored the taste. you couldn’t help but feel pleased by his reaction.

and as the quiet night stretched on, you found yourself lingering just a little longer, watching over this tired man who had found his way to your little restaurant, seeking something warm to hold onto.

—

the next few days passed, and nanami kept returning to your restaurant after his shifts. at first, you weren’t sure if it was just convenience—maybe you were simply along his route home, or maybe he appreciated the quiet atmosphere after a long day. but as the days turned into a week, and then another, it became clear that his visits were more than just a passing habit.

sometimes he would sit in silence, his shoulders tense from the weight of the day, quietly enjoying whatever meal you’d prepared for him. he never asked for anything specific, but you always took the time to make something just right—something that would ease the exhaustion in his expression.

other times, he would ask questions. small, simple ones at first, mostly about your cooking. what spices you used in your broth, why you cut your ingredients a certain way, how you managed to make something as ordinary as rice taste so rich. he didn’t seem like someone who talked much, but with you, he was curious. interested. he listened intently, nodding along as you explained, occasionally humming in quiet appreciation.

it wasn’t long before you found yourself looking forward to his visits.

you started paying even more attention to the little things. you took extra care with every dish, making sure the broth was always the right temperature, the noodles cooked just right. you made a habit of preparing something fresh when you saw him walk through the door, plating his meals with a little more finesse, adding thoughtful touches to each dish.

and though he never outright said it, you could tell nanami noticed.

one night, after what seemed to be an especially long day, he stayed later than usual.

he had finished his usual meal, but instead of standing to leave, he leaned back slightly, exhaling a deep breath before glancing toward you.

“if it’s not too much trouble,” he said, his voice carrying the remnants of exhaustion, “i’d like another bowl.”

you blinked, surprised.

“of course,” you said, already moving to the kitchen. “extra toppings?”

nanami hummed, considering for a moment. “whatever you think is best.”

you smiled to yourself as you reached for fresh ingredients. by now, you had a sense of what he liked—subtle flavors, nothing too overpowering, but something hearty enough to satisfy him after a long day.

as you worked, you felt the weight of his gaze on you. it wasn’t the first time you’d noticed it, but tonight, it lingered.

“you seem very interested in how i make this,” you teased, glancing up from your chopping board.

he didn’t look away, nor did he try to deny it. instead, he let out a quiet chuckle, running a hand through his hair.

“it’s just…” he hesitated for a moment, then sighed, as if trying to find the right words. “you’re so good at this. it’s not just the food. it’s the way you care about it.”

your hands paused briefly before you resumed slicing.

there was something different in his tone tonight—softer, more thoughtful.

“well,” you said, glancing at him again with a small, shy smile. “cooking’s always been something i put my heart into.”

nanami nodded, watching as you added the final touches to his dish.

“and it shows,” he said quietly. “i’ve never had food like this.”

you weren’t sure why his words made your chest feel so warm, why your fingers trembled slightly as you set the steaming bowl in front of him. but as nanami picked up his chopsticks, taking that first bite, you saw the way his expression softened—the tension in his jaw easing, the faintest trace of relief flickering in his eyes.

it felt good, to make him feel good.

—

for you, food had always been a way to show someone that you thought about them. throughout your life, whilst growing up with your family around, you never really saw a way for it to be different— food was the only way to go for you! add a bit more sauce because your father liked it that way, little less salt since your mother’s blood pressure could spike, making something sweeter for your little sibling’s sweet tooth, and make a little more of that dessert so your family can also enjoy it tomorrow.

it wasn’t a surprise that you thought of nanami a little more than your other clients. just like now, as he sat by the counter, enjoying your food.

after finishing the last few bites of his meal, nanami set his chopsticks down and exhaled softly. the restaurant was quiet, the hum of the lights above and the occasional distant sound of the city outside the only things filling the silence. he reached for his wallet, preparing to pay as he always did, when you spoke up.

“wait,” you said, taking a small step forward before he could stand.

he glanced up, eyebrows raising slightly in question.

“i have a little extra food tonight,” you said, your tone light, but there was a hopeful edge to it. “would you like to take some home with you?”

for a moment, nanami simply stared at you, as if caught off guard by the offer.

“are you sure?” he asked after a pause. “you didn’t have to…”

you shrugged, a small, warm laugh escaping your lips. “it’s no trouble. i made more than i needed, and i’d rather see it go to someone who’ll actually enjoy it.”

his gaze flickered toward the kitchen, then back to you, and for a second, he seemed to hesitate—like he wasn’t used to people offering him things without expecting anything in return.

but then he exhaled, something in his expression softening. “thank you,” he said, voice quieter than before. “that’s really kind of you.”

you turned, moving to the kitchen, carefully packing some of the extra food into a small container. you took your time, making sure everything was just right, adding an extra garnish on top, a touch of warmth to the simple meal. when you returned, you held it out to him with a smile.

as nanami reached out to take it, his fingers brushed lightly against yours. it was brief—just a passing touch—but it sent a faint jolt through you, something small yet noticeable.

he must have felt it too, because he stilled for a moment, his fingers curling around the container more carefully than necessary. when he looked up at you again, there was a slight, almost imperceptible blush dusting his cheeks.

“i really appreciate all of this,” he said, his voice quieter, more deliberate. “you’ve made these long days a little easier.”

his words settled over you like a soft weight, gentle but lingering.

you felt warmth bloom in your chest, spreading slowly, wrapping around your ribs. your heart skipped a beat, though you weren’t sure why. maybe because his words were the best compliment you ever received, but who knows.

“it’s nothing,” you said, shaking your head slightly, though your voice was softer now. “i’m glad i can make a difference, even if it’s just through food.”

nanami studied you for a moment, something unreadable flickering in his gaze.

then, slowly, he smiled—not one of those small, reserved smiles he usually gave, but something just a little fuller. just a little more real.

the moment lingered between you, stretching just a second longer than usual, before he finally stepped back.

“good night.” he said, voice low but warm.

and as he left, container in hand, you found yourself standing there for a little while longer, your fingers still tingling from where they had touched his.

—

a few nights later, nanami arrived at the restaurant a little later than usual.

it was nearing closing time, and you were already halfway through wiping down the counters, humming softly to yourself as you went through the motions of closing up for the night. you hadn’t expected anyone else to come in, but the familiar chime of the doorbell made you glance up.

there he was.

nanami stood in the doorway, looking as put-together as ever, but there was something heavier in his posture tonight. the way he rolled his shoulders slightly, the subtle way he exhaled as he stepped inside—it told you enough. it had been a long day.

“cutting it close tonight,” you teased, setting your cloth aside as you turned to face him.

nanami glanced at the clock, then back at you, offering a small sigh. “i almost didn’t make it,” he admitted, loosening his tie slightly. “but i didn’t want to miss a meal.”

your heart did an unexpected little flip.

“well,” you said, already moving toward the kitchen, “since you made the effort to come, i’ll make sure it��s worth it.”

he settled into his usual seat at the counter, watching as you moved with practiced ease. by now, this had become something of a routine, something comfortable.

after a moment, nanami broke the quiet.

“you always stay so late,” he noted, resting an elbow on the counter.

“comes with the job,” you replied. “besides, i don’t mind. especially when i have good company.”

you said it casually, but when you glanced up, you caught the slightest change in his expression—the faintest shift in his gaze, the way his fingers flexed slightly where they rested on the counter. he looked away, and for just a second, you swore you saw a hint of color on his ears.

you smiled to yourself as you reached for ingredients, deciding to make something a little different tonight—something simple but rich in flavor, something you thought he might like.

“you seem a little more tired than usual,” you commented as you worked, slicing through fresh vegetables with steady hands.

nanami let out a quiet sigh. “long day.”

“want to talk about it?”

he glanced at you, then shook his head lightly. “not much to say.”

you nodded in understanding, not pushing him for more. instead, you focused on cooking, the steady sounds of chopping and sizzling filling the comfortable quiet between you. although, it always made you wonder, what did nanami do for a living that had him so exhausted all the time. his pristine suit and printed tie only gave a vague impression of him being an office executive maybe, but you weren’t sure if that was it.

after a while, you placed the finished dish in front of him.

nanami looked at it, then at you.

“this is new,” he noted.

“thought you might like it,” you admitted, leaning against the counter with a small smile. “figured you could use something a little special tonight.”

he picked up his chopsticks and took a bite. the moment the flavors settled on his tongue, he paused, his expression flickering with something like surprise.

you leaned forward slightly. “so?”

he exhaled, setting his chopsticks down for just a moment. “this is…” he hesitated, then gave a small, genuine nod. “incredible.”

the way he said it—so simple, so sincere—made warmth bloom in your chest.

“you really think so?” you asked, unable to hide the pleased grin on your face.

nanami nodded. “i don’t say things i don’t mean.”

you watched as he continued eating, a small, content smile tugging at your lips. there was something about watching him like this—watching the tension slowly ease from his shoulders, the way his posture relaxed ever so slightly as he enjoyed the meal—that made you feel… happy.

after a moment, an idea sparked in your mind.

“want to try something fun?” you asked.

nanami raised an eyebrow. “define ‘fun.’”

you laughed, grabbing an extra set of chopsticks and holding them up. “cooking together,” you explained. “i mean, since you’re always so interested in how i do things, why not give it a try?”

he hesitated, glancing toward the kitchen, then back at you. “i’m not much of a cook.”

“all the more reason to learn,” you said with a playful shrug. “come on, it’ll be easy. i promise i won’t let you mess it up too badly.”

for a moment, he seemed to weigh his options. then, with a sigh, he rolled up his sleeves and stood.

“fine,” he muttered, giving you a look that was equal parts exasperation and amusement. “but if this turns into a disaster, you’re taking full responsibility.”

“deal,” you grinned, already pulling out fresh ingredients.

as you guided him through the steps, showing him how to hold the knife properly, how to tell when the broth was just right, you couldn’t help but notice the way he concentrated so seriously. even when he fumbled slightly—cutting something unevenly, hesitating for a moment too long before stirring—he was so meticulous about getting things right.

“you really take everything seriously, huh?” you teased, nudging him lightly.

“if i’m going to do something, i prefer to do it properly,” he replied, frowning slightly at the vegetables he was chopping.

you laughed, watching as he carefully plated the dish he had helped prepare. it was a little clumsy, a little uneven, but it was his.

“not bad,” you said, tilting your head in approval. “you might just have a talent for this, nanami.”

he scoffed, shaking his head. “don’t get ahead of yourself.”

but when you took a bite of what he made, humming in satisfaction, you swore you saw a flicker of quiet pride in his expression. a sight you quickly stored into your precious memories.

—

when people tried your food and you saw the way their curious expression instantly changed into a pleased one, eyes closing a little, delighted hums filling the air as they savoured— that was the moment you felt that it was worth it.

it happened so naturally that neither of you had time to think about it.

you had just finished plating a small dish—something simple, something warm—and nanami, standing beside you in the quiet of the empty restaurant, watched as you took a bite to taste.

“needs a little more seasoning,” you mused, tapping your chin in thought.

nanami chuckled softly, arms crossed. “it smells good regardless.”

“here,” you said before you even processed what you were doing. you picked up a small piece of food with your chopsticks, turning toward him without hesitation. “try it.”

he blinked.

for a brief moment, nanami looked at you like he wasn’t sure he had heard you correctly. his lips parted slightly, his gaze flickering from your face to the chopsticks in your hand, then back again.

“what?”

“just try it,” you said, your tone light, teasing. “you trust me, don’t you?”

there was something about the way you said it—soft, just a little playful—that made nanami exhale, his shoulders shifting like he was trying to shake off a strange, unfamiliar feeling.

still, he leaned in.

your breath hitched slightly. you hadn’t thought much about what you were doing before, but now, with him this close—close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from him, close enough that you could see the faintest crease of exhaustion at the corners of his eyes—you suddenly became hyperaware of everything.

the way his lips parted just slightly. the way his breath fanned lightly against your fingers as you carefully placed the bite of food into his mouth. the way his throat bobbed as he swallowed, slow, deliberate.

his gaze didn’t leave yours.

you hadn’t realized how still the room had become until now—how thick the air suddenly felt, charged with something unspoken.

“well?” you asked, voice quieter than before.

nanami exhaled slowly, his eyes lingering on you for just a beat too long before he finally looked away.

“it’s good,” he murmured.

you swallowed, feeling something warm bloom in your chest, something dizzying.

“see?” you teased, but your voice was softer now, almost breathless. “told you you’d like it.”

nanami didn’t answer right away. instead, he studied you for a moment, his gaze unreadable, sharp yet gentle all at once. the way he looked at you made your stomach flip—like he was seeing you in a way he hadn’t before, like he was memorizing every detail.

his tongue flicked out to swipe over his bottom lip, catching a stray bit of sauce, and you swore the room suddenly felt ten degrees warmer.

“you always do this,” he said after a moment, his voice lower than before.

“do what?” you asked, trying to sound playful, but it came out softer than you intended.

“put so much care into everything,” he murmured. “even something as small as this.”

his words sent a shiver down your spine, though you weren’t sure why. maybe it was the way he said it, like it meant something more. like it wasn’t just about the food.

his gaze dipped to your lips for the briefest second.

you felt your breath catch, your grip tightening just slightly around the chopsticks in your hand.

nanami was close—too close. you were used to being near him, used to leaning over the counter to hand him dishes, used to standing side by side while he watched you cook. but this was different. this was heavier, charged with something that made your pulse quicken.

for a second, you wondered if he would close the space between you. if you wanted him to.

but then, nanami straightened just slightly, exhaling through his nose like he was grounding himself.

“thank you,” he said finally, voice a little steadier now, but his eyes still held that warmth, that something lingering beneath the surface.

you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, smiling despite the way your heart was still racing.

“anytime.” you murmured.

but you both knew this—whatever this was—wasn’t just about food.

—

the evening had wound down, the last of the dishes stacked neatly, the gentle clinking of glassware filling the quiet. the restaurant was bathed in the soft glow of overhead lights, the warmth of the space wrapping around you like a blanket. you wiped your hands on the dish towel, your body feeling pleasantly tired from a long day of cooking, but there was something else in the air—something that made your pulse flutter, a quiet tension you hadn’t noticed building between you and nanami until now.

after the kitchen had quieted down and the last plates were cleaned, you found yourself standing by the counter, leaning against it with a soft sigh of contentment. the dim light from the overhead bulbs cast a warm glow over the space, and the peaceful silence of the restaurant after hours felt comforting. the air was thick with the remnants of laughter and conversation, both of you savoring the aftermath of a meal well-prepared and well-enjoyed.

you glanced over at nanami, who was standing just a little too close to you. his hands were resting casually on the edge of the counter, but there was a softness to the way he was looking at you—something that wasn’t just about the food anymore. the weight of his gaze, the way he took you in with a quiet intensity, made your chest tighten in a way you couldn’t quite describe.

“thank you for all your help tonight,” you said softly, breaking the silence, your voice low but warm, the softest hint of a smile on your lips as you wiped your hands on a towel.

nanami didn’t look away, his eyes following every movement, lingering on your face as though he was searching for something, as if you were the only thing in the room. “no, thank you,” he replied, voice even lower now, a bit more intense. “I really enjoy spending time with you.”

the words lingered in the space between you, the weight of them pulling you both into a moment that felt a little too close, a little too intimate for the setting. his eyes flickered down to your lips, then back up to your eyes, and you felt the air thicken between you, as if something unspoken was finally bubbling to the surface.

your pulse quickened, an unfamiliar heat blossoming in your chest, and before you could even think about what was happening, nanami took a small step forward. his hand, large and warm, cupped your cheek gently, his thumb brushing over your skin in the most tender of touches.

“nanami—” you whispered, but your words were cut off by the feeling of his lips pressing against yours.

it was a kiss that caught you off guard. soft, tentative at first, like he was asking for permission, testing the waters. you froze for a moment, caught in the quiet tenderness of it. but then, slowly, as your lips parted and you found yourself leaning into him, the kiss deepened, becoming more urgent, more hungry.

his free hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you closer, and you could feel the heat of his body, the quiet strength of him against you. your hands found their way to his chest, the rhythm of your heart now mirroring the thrum of electricity that ran between you.

the kiss was full of everything you’d been holding back, all the moments and glances and touches that had lingered too long, all the conversations that felt too intimate for just two people sharing a meal. it was all there, flooding the space between you both in the soft heat of his kiss.

when you finally pulled away, breathless, your chest rising and falling with the intensity of the kiss, you were met with nanami’s flushed face. his eyes were darker now, clouded with something more, something that spoke of desire and longing.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for a while,” he admitted, his voice rougher than usual, barely above a whisper.

the words sent a thrill through you, and you couldn’t help but smile, still dizzy from the heat of him. “me too,” you confessed, your voice small, your heart racing with the realization that this was more than just a passing attraction.

nanami’s thumb brushed your cheek gently, a soft, tender motion that contrasted with the fire burning between you. his gaze softened as he leaned in again, forehead resting against yours for just a moment. “so… how about a proper date next time?”

you chuckled softly, the tension still hanging in the air, but now with the lightness of anticipation. “I’d like that,” you breathed out, your lips still tingling from the kiss, your heart still pounding in your chest.

as nanami pulled away slightly, his hand still lingering on your neck, his eyes softened, but the intensity was still there, still simmering beneath the surface. “good,” he murmured, the word carrying more weight than you could have imagined.

the moment stretched between you both, a shared understanding passing silently, and you realized that this was only the beginning. your relationship, born out of the shared simplicity of a meal, had blossomed into something deeper, more meaningful, and the connection between you both was undeniable.

as nanami took a small step back, the space between you still felt charged, the air around you thick with everything you hadn’t said yet, everything you both knew was coming. you realized then that this was more than just a kiss. it was the beginning of something else—something that was just as deep and satisfying as the meals you had shared, but infinitely more meaningful.

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zerocoded · 1 month ago

Text

summary: caleb wants to confess to you on his knees and a 70-year-old lady becomes your biggest nightmare.

authors note: pls take a look at the warnings for a safe reading ♡ y'all are freakier than me and I LOVE IT, so here is the continuation of this post i made, if you haven't read it, go and tell me what you think about! also check the talented artist who made this drawing that i'm using as a banner, credits to her ♡ this thing was supposed to be 6k words max but i think i got a little too much into EVERYTHING so i'm sorry if this sucks. still, i wish you guys a nice reading!

warnings: MAJOR LORE GUESS, THIS IS MY THEORY OF HOW THINGS WILL PLAY OUT DON'T TAKE IT SERIOUSLY • gaslighting and manipulation • SLIGHT yandere!caleb • possessive!caleb • isolation but just a little • minor injury • psychological distress • themes of wars and weaponization • we talk a little about our trauma • ptsd symptoms • negative talks about ourselves (booh) • caleb custom makes an uniform specially for us • hints at psychological torture • once again, ANGST BABES because these two really like to bicker with each other • sfw content but HEAVILY SUGGESTIVE, just nothing graphic

word count: 11.6k (pls let's not talk about it)

THIS IS THE PART TWO, you can read the first chapter below:

the first time you see caleb after the incident┃ you're here┃you punch caleb in the face┃caleb teaches you his love language

skyhaven, powered by a protocore, stood as a beacon of innovation—a home to cutting-edge research centers and advanced tech organizations. when you were younger, the suspended island above linkon city had been a dream, a place of endless possibility and freedom. now, standing here, you couldn’t shake the irony: the very place you once longed to visit now felt like a gilded cage.

your journey here has unsettled you, planting a persistent seed of doubt. was this truly what you wanted? leaving behind the familiar comforts of your apartment to follow caleb to this towering, enigmatic place—was it the right choice? did that moment—the feeling of his lips on yours—truly change anything between you? did he think about it as often as you did?

the initial shock and disbelief of reuniting with caleb, after weeks spent mourning him, had begun to settle by your second night in skyhaven. the whirlwind of emotions that came with seeing him alive—relief, confusion, and a flicker of anger—faded into a dull hum as reality set in. as the day dragged on, with caleb strictly advising you not to leave his sleeping quarters’ floor, you found yourself with plenty of time to adjust to the strange circumstances you now found yourself in.

your first day here had passed quietly, an uneasy stillness settling over you. you hadn’t yet met any of caleb’s colleagues. the only glimpse you’d gotten of them was when you both arrived, their initial looks of curiosity quickly extinguished by caleb’s commanding presence. whatever questions they had, they didn’t dare voice them. his authority was absolute, and for now, it shielded you from the world beyond his floor—but it also left you feeling isolated, a stranger in this new environment.

the second day started and ended much like the first—confined to his bedchambers, with nothing but your thoughts and the ever-changing view from the huge floor-to-ceiling windows in his room. you spent hours there, caught in a trance as the sky shifted through an endless palette of colors, clouds forming and dissolving in shapes that seemed just as fleeting as your grip on this new reality.

caleb’s presence was everywhere and that made you a little dizzy. his scent lingered in the shirts he had lent you, in the bed sheets that cradled you at night, a warm mix of leather, musk, and something distinctly his own. his quarters, though rarely used given how much of his time was consumed by work, were unmistakably a reflection of him.

the room was awash in muted greys, from the smooth metallic walls to the minimalist furniture that prioritized function over form. cabinets lined one side, adorned with badges from past missions—quiet tokens of his history, his sacrifices, and his triumphs. their arrangement felt almost random, yet carried a subtle, unspoken order.

his bed, though crisply made, was an island of softness in the otherwise sharp-edged decor. a worn leather jacket hung by the door, its scuffed edges a contrast to the polished surface of his boots, lined perfectly beneath. on the desk in the corner, a stack of reports waited alongside a notebook with frayed edges, a relic of a more personal side of him he rarely let anyone see.

when reality came crashing down, you realized that you felt no different than when you were a little kid—admiring the boy of your dreams from a distance, your heart caught between hope and the quiet certainty that this dream was just that: a dream. the same ache lingered, a mixture of longing and doubt. you felt closer to that dream every time you caught caleb staring at you when he thought you were distracted.

speaking of ache, the injury you’d sustained a few days earlier during one of your missions was still fresh in your memory. the medic team at the farspace fleet had tended to it with precision, and that counted as the second time you’d interacted with anyone here. you hadn’t meant to let it slip during your journey that your ribs were swollen from an accident at work, but caleb had noticed—and he wasn’t about to let you brush it off.

when you tried to wave away his concerns, insisting you just needed rest, he didn’t take it lightly. his worry for you came out in an unusual way—firm, commanding, and impossible to ignore. he barked orders at the medic team with an authority that left no room for argument, his voice sharp and unwavering. watching him threaten them to ensure you received the best care, you couldn’t help but feel like he wasn’t just acting as a colonel—he was someone who cared deeply for you.

as the clock marked the start of your third day as caleb’s reluctant guest, you rose from his bed, the routine as monotonous as the view outside. you slipped into fresh clothes—despite having no prospect of seeing anyone besides caleb—and began your habitual ritual of tidying up his space, a quiet attempt to pass the time and bring a sliver of normalcy to the strange circumstances.

you were certain the colonel wouldn’t mind if you spent the day lounging in his shirt—it wasn’t like he’d complain—but there was something about maintaining a semblance of decency that felt necessary. maybe it was your way of reminding yourself that you and caleb weren’t pre-teenagers cuddling in granny’s sofa like you used to anymore, now you were both adults.

caleb’s presence in the room was fleeting, almost ghostlike. you always fell asleep before he returned and woke to find the bed cold and empty, his absence a constant companion. and yet, in the stillness of the night, there were moments—fleeting, but undeniable—when you stirred just enough to feel him. his arm would circle your waist, his breath soft against your hair. it was never long enough to fully wake, but just enough to remind you that he was there, in his own quiet, guarded way.

and there it goes your attempt at decency once again.

you’d joked once about how he was keeping you hostage, trying to lighten the mood of your strange arrangement. caleb had smirked at your remark, that faint, knowing curve of his lips that you used to know what it meant but couldn’t pinpoint it anymore. “be patient”, he’d teased, throwing out that stupid nickname he’d decided to saddle you with since kids. then, with his usual abruptness, he’d turned to leave, disappearing for yet another task that demanded his attention.

you caught yourself daydreaming about kicking his ass more times than you wanted to admit, but refrained from it because of the little consideration you had for the man. caleb had always been more than a mere presence in your life. growing up, he had been both a confidant and the object of an innocent, unspoken infatuation.

back at school, you remembered the way your classmates would fawn over him after the whole chronorift thing happened, their voices tinged with admiration and awe. it had stirred a quiet possessiveness in you that you hadn’t fully acknowledged until now—until two nights ago, when he brought you to the farspace fleet. the way the other daa soldiers regarded him, with a mixture of respect and fear, reminded you of those little girls in school, seeing him as someone out of reach.

the sound of your footsteps echoed faintly in the silence of caleb’s quarters as you paced, restless energy building with nowhere to go. the midday light filtering through the observation deck window cast long shadows, shifting subtly as the minutes dragged into hours. you’d spent the morning turning over every piece of information caleb had given you—trying to make sense of his cryptic remarks.

you had thought about confronting him more than once, but every time you pictured his sharp gaze and those carefully chosen, guarded responses, you stopped yourself. caleb didn’t share things easily like he used to, and if he was keeping you in the dark now, there had to be a reason. but patience had never been your strong suit, and the isolation of the past three days only made your doubts heavier, pressing against your thoughts like an unshakable weight.

as the door to his quarters hissed open, your heart jumped, the sound breaking the stillness like a gunshot. caleb stepped inside, his movements precise, his expression unreadable. his uniform was slightly rumpled, the dark fabric clinging to his frame, and a faint sheen of sweat on his brow suggested whatever task he’d been called to wasn’t as simple as he might claim.

“you’re still up here,” he observed, his tone neutral but his gaze flicking over you briefly before settling on the desk where he’d left a stack of reports.

“where else would i be?” you replied, trying to mask the tension in your voice. “you made it pretty clear this is my designated prison cell.”

his lips quirked into that familiar smirk. “if this is a prison, i’d say you’ve got the best cell in the fleet.”

you rolled your eyes at his response, folding your arms across your chest. “sure, best cell in the fleet,” you muttered, your tone dripping with sarcasm. “it’s not like i have much to compare it to.”

caleb chuckled softly, his smirk lingering as he moved toward the desk, casually thumbing through the stack of reports. “you’ve got a knack for making everything sound like an ordeal,” he said, glancing at your choice of clothes for the day—it wasn’t anything crazy, just some jeans and a black compression shirt. caleb didn’t gave you time to actually pack your stuff, of course. “but you’ll want to save your complaints for later. something tells me you’re about to get more to gripe about.”

before you could ask what he meant, the door hissed open again, and a small team of people entered, their arrival so abrupt it left you momentarily stunned. they carried garment bags and cases, moving efficiently under caleb’s orders. he turned to you, his expression unreadable but his tone calm and firm.

“go with them,” he said simply. “they’ll help you get ready.”

you stared at him, incredulous. “ready for what?”

“it’s time for you to get out of here,” he said, his tone firm yet measured. “you need to meet some people. there’s an interrogation set up, and they’re going to need answers—everything you know about onychinus, the aether core, and ever. try to dig up whatever you can remember about your time in the lab,” he added, his lips curving into a faint smile. “that should keep them satisfied, princess.”

your body tensed at the mention of onychinus. it was a name you didn’t expect to hear here, of all places, and the weight of it hit you like a blow to the chest. your gaze snapped to caleb, your mind already racing. how much did he know? how much had he told them?

“onychinus?” you repeated, your voice sharper than you intended. “how do they even know about that?”

did they know about sylus?

caleb’s expression remained unreadable, his amethystine eyes cool and steady, but there was a flicker of something he wasn’t saying. “this isn’t just about you anymore,” he replied simply. “they need answers. so do i.”

“and the lab?” you snapped, your frustration bubbling to the surface. “what the hell is that supposed to mean? i don’t know shit about that place, caleb. i already told you. it’s hard enough to believe i’m some kind of fucking experiment.”

he sighed heavily, the sound more resigned than exasperated. “we’ve talked about this,” he said, his voice steady but with a tinge of weariness, as if the conversation had played out in his head a hundred times already.

“no,” you shot back, stepping closer, your voice trembling with emotion. “you talked about this. you told me we’re human weapons, made to destroy each other. you told me about your time before the chronorift and granny josephine.” your voice faltered for a moment, your breath hitching. “and i told you, caleb, i don’t remember any procedures being done without my consent. even after the chronorift tragedy. you should stop fretting me about this.”

“you don’t remember,” he said quietly, his amethystine eyes holding yours with a steady intensity. “that’s fine. i didn’t either, at first.” he paused, the faintest flicker of something unreadable crossing his face before he continued. “but i hope we can talk about this again later, when you finally do remember.”

his voice dropped lower. “trust me,” he said, the words heavy with meaning. “you’re going to want me by your side when that happens.”

you narrowed your eyes, your tone turning accusatory. “and what about you? are they interrogating you too, or is this just about me?”

he tilted his head slightly, his lips curving into that faint smirk that was equal parts infuriating and captivating. “i was the one who asked for your interrogation,” he said, his voice calm, almost casual, as if he hadn’t just dropped a bombshell.

“what do you mean, you asked?” you demanded, stepping closer to him, your heart pounding in your chest. the sheer size of him, amplified by the sharp lines of his uniform, made him feel larger than life. the dark fabric clung to his frame, accentuating his out worldly height.

his perfume was also divine.

“i need to make sure you’re telling the truth,” he said, his tone firm but not unkind. the words hung in the air, a challenge wrapped in concern. his bionic arm rested at his side, the faint hum of its servos almost lost in the tension between you.

your breath hitched, a mix of anger and hurt bubbling to the surface. “you don’t trust me,” you said, your voice quieter now, though no less sharp. “after the stunt you pulled at granny’s house, i should be the one not to trust you”.

his gaze softened, just for a moment, but then his expression hardened again, the familiar steel returning to his eyes. “this isn’t about trust,” he said, his voice low and steady. “it’s about knowing what we’re up against. i can’t afford to take chances—not with you, not with anyone.”

you felt the heat rise to your cheeks, your fists clenching at your sides. “you’re not the caleb i remember,” you muttered, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

his jaw tightened, and he stepped closer, his presence overwhelming. the sharp lines of his uniform, the way his eyes seemed to pierce right through you—it was almost too much. “i’m not,” he said, his voice a rough whisper. “that boy’s gone. at least the part of him that had to change so i could protect you right now. and if you can’t handle that—”

“don’t,” you interrupted, your voice shaking slightly. “just forget it.”

the tension between you crackled like static, the air too heavy to breathe. finally, he exhaled, the sound more controlled than the storm in his eyes. “after the interrogation,” he said, his tone softening just a fraction, “you’ll be free to move around skyhaven. no more confinement.”

you didn’t respond, your throat tight with words you couldn’t bring yourself to say. as if sensing the shift, caleb straightened, his imposing figure softening just slightly as he stepped closer. his expression shifted to something quieter, almost tender.

“hey,” he said softly, his voice dropping to that low, comforting tone he used when he wanted you to listen. his flesh hand gently cradled your cheek, the warmth of his touch grounding you, even as you stubbornly refused to meet his gaze. “you know you can trust me, right? pipsqueak?”

the nickname caught you off guard, tugging at something familiar, something from a time when things felt simpler. you blinked, unsure whether to be annoyed or comforted by the teasing lilt in his voice. “don’t call me that,” you muttered, though your heart wasn’t in it.

you blinked hard, feeling the sting of unshed tears threatening to spill over. your chest tightened as the emotions you’d been trying to bury the last two days clawed their way to the surface. his thumb brushed against your cheek, a quiet, unspoken reassurance.

“look at me,” he murmured, his voice so soft it was almost a plea. when you didn’t, he leaned in just enough for you to feel the warmth of his breath.

the warmth in his eyes didn’t fade. “stop acting like you don’t trust me,” he said, the teasing edge softening into something more serious. “i know this isn’t easy for you. hell, it’s not easy for me either. but i need you to believe me when i say i’m doing this for us—for you.”

“for me?” you repeated, your voice laced with annoyance as you crossed your arms. “you shouldn’t keep me in the dark like this, caleb. i don’t like it.”

his expression faltered for just a second, a flicker of guilt crossing his features before he straightened again, his bionic arm twitching faintly at his side. “it’s not that i don’t trust you,” he said, his voice firm but not harsh. “it’s that i need to protect you. and sometimes… that means making decisions you’re not going to like.”

you swallowed hard, his words settling heavily in your chest. he reached out then, his human hand brushing lightly against your arm, grounding you with a touch that was more deliberate than casual.

“you know me,” he whispered in your ear, leaning in slightly, his voice so quiet it was almost a secret. “you know i’d never let anything happen to you. you’re the only one i’ve ever been able to count on. don’t forget that, okay?”

after that, caleb took a step away from you, nodding to the team waiting by the door.

“get her ready,” he ordered, his voice carrying that same commanding edge that left no room for argument.

the team ushered you into a side room, where they worked quickly and efficiently to help you change. the uniform they presented was a masterpiece—sleek and custom-fitted, clearly designed to match the style of caleb’s but with details tailored to you. the base was a deep charcoal grey, nearly black, with white, red and gold piping along the seams and shoulders that shimmered faintly in the light. the high collar hugged your neck, its edges trimmed with subtle leather lines.

the fabric was sturdy yet flexible, designed for both movement and protection, while still accentuating your figure with precision. the insignia on the chest was a smaller, more refined version of the fleet’s emblem, embossed in gold. the sleeves bore intricate embroidery that hinted at your stats as a companion, adding a touch of elegance to the otherwise utilitarian design. the boots were polished to perfection, completing the look with a sense of authority and efficiency.

the team handed you the final piece of the uniform—a sleek military-style hat reminiscent of a pilot’s, crafted with the same precision and detail as the rest of the attire. its charcoal-grey base was accented with a polished silver insignia of the fleet, the mark of the deepspace aviation administration that gleamed in the light.

the room buzzed with quiet efficiency as the staff worked around you, their movements quick but deliberate. the space itself was bright and sterile, with sleek metallic walls that reflected the soft hum of machinery. the air carried a faint smell of ozone and disinfectant, underscoring the precision of the environment. each member of the team seemed hyper-focused on their tasks—adjusting a seam here, brushing away an invisible speck of lint there—all while maintaining a level of deference that left you slightly uneasy.

their respect toward you wasn’t forced, but it felt oddly out of place, as if it was more a reflection of caleb’s authority than anything you’d earned. you caught snippets of murmured conversation between them, their glances respectful yet curious, as though they were trying to piece together who you were and why caleb had ordered such meticulous preparation for you.

when they finished, you stepped out into the hall where caleb was waiting. he stood with his back to you, his broad shoulders filling the space, his bionic arm resting at his side.

for a split second you imagined yourself kicking his ass once again and making him fall face first on the floor for the way he’d been avoiding you the last two days. but then you remembered where you were and what you were doing here.

you’re not lying when saying you had spent a few seconds just glancing at his back without his notice. the sharp lines of his uniform only emphasized the commanding presence he carried, making him look every bit the colonel he was. the moment he felt your presence, he turned, his amethyst eyes locking onto you.

for a moment, caleb didn’t say anything. his gaze swept over you, slow and deliberate, taking in every detail of the uniform. his expression was unreadable, but his eyes held something deeper—pride, maybe, or something more possessive.

“it fits,” he said finally, his voice low and steady,

“barely,” you replied, attempting to lighten the moment, though the intensity of his stare made your voice falter.

he stepped closer, his movements deliberate, his gaze never leaving yours. “no,” he said, his lips twitching into the faintest smirk. “it fits perfectly.”

his eyes swept over you again, lingering just a fraction too long to be casual. “actually,” he murmured, his voice dropping an octave, “it does more than fit. you look…” he paused, tilting his head slightly as if searching for the right word, though the gleam in his eyes told you he already knew. “exceptional.”

you felt heat rise to your cheeks, his compliment catching you off guard. “exceptional?” you echoed, attempting to keep your voice steady, though it betrayed you with a slight waver. “didn’t think you were the type to throw around fancy words like that, colonel.”

his smirk deepened, the teasing edge in his gaze making your pulse quicken. “i don’t throw them around,” he said smoothly. “only when they’re deserved.”

the way he looked at you made your breath hitch, the weight of his presence making the space between you feel charged. “you didn’t have to go through all this trouble,” you murmured, your fingers brushing over the insignia on your chest.

“i did,” he replied simply, his voice dropping even lower. “you’re with me now. they need to see that.” his gaze softened just enough to let a flicker of vulnerability show before it disappeared. “are you ready?”

no, i’m not, you wanted to say, but you doubted your insecurity would make a difference here. you were a hunter on a mission right now, and any false step could lead to your demise and caleb’s plan failing. you hoped he didn’t sense your nervousness, but something told you that you couldn’t hide anything from the man beside you. he always knew how to read you—this part of him resembled zayne a little, though you feared the comparison.

you walked side by side out of the sleeping quarters, your boots echoing softly against the polished floors. the corridor was a stark contrast to the warmth of caleb’s quarters—bright, sterile, and buzzing with activity. as soon as you stepped into view, every officer and soldier below caleb’s rank stopped their tasks, snapping to attention with a crisp salute. the air seemed to shift, charged with an unspoken reverence for the colonel.

the corridor led to an expansive atrium, its vaulted ceiling revealing the full grandeur of skyhaven. the deepspace aviation administration headquarters was a masterpiece of engineering, blending sleek modernity with a palpable sense of purpose. towering support structures arched gracefully overhead, made of an alloy that shimmered faintly under the artificial lighting. expansive observation windows lined the atrium walls, offering a breathtaking view of linkon city far below.

skyhaven itself was an artificial marvel, a massive floating island suspended by an intricate network of protocore technology and magnetic stabilizers. the island wasn’t just a hub for the military—it was a living ecosystem of cutting-edge science and aviation. beneath the steel and glass exterior, skyhaven buzzed with life, housing research centers, training facilities, and state-of-the-art hangars that extended far beyond the viewable limits.

as you glanced out one of the observation windows, a small sigh of relief escaped your lips. linkon city stretched far below, its familiar skyline bathed in the amber glow of the sun. despite everything—your doubts, your fears—there was something comforting about seeing the world from this vantage point. for a moment, you let yourself appreciate the surreal beauty of it, even as caleb’s brisk pace pulled you back into the present.

as you approached the center of the base, the architecture shifted subtly, becoming even more advanced. panels of polished black metal lined the walls, embedded with glowing data streams that flickered in shades of blue and green. interactive holographic displays projected tactical maps, fleet status reports, and complex equations, their light casting faint patterns across the gleaming floor.

caleb led you through a security checkpoint, where biometric scanners and advanced surveillance systems verified your presence. the guards at the station snapped to attention at his approach, their expressions taut with respect. beyond the checkpoint, the central operations hub opened up—a sprawling room filled with tiered workstations and holo-screens that hovered mid-air.

in the heart of the hub stood a group that was unmistakably different. clad in black tactical uniforms, their gear adorned with the subtle insignia of ever, this was the special force. they didn’t salute caleb as the others had; their deference was more subtle, marked by a slight inclination of their heads and a sharp, assessing glance in your direction.

you felt your blood boil as your gaze landed on the emblem stitched into their uniforms—the unmistakable insignia of ever. the sight of it twisted your stomach, bringing back every sleepless night, every unanswered question that had haunted you since josephine’s death. zayne’s reluctant handoff of those cryptic documents had started it all, but it was the whispers of ever that had lingered at the edges of your stay at the N109 zone and your time at the nest that really troubled you.

and now, here they were, not just a name on a paper or a faint memory on onychinus’ air, but living, breathing soldiers standing right in front of you. their presence was as real as the knot forming in your chest.

one of them stepped forward, a woman with sharp features and piercing eyes that seemed to miss nothing. her voice was calm but firm. “colonel,” she said, her gaze briefly flicking to you. “the team is ready for the briefing. we’ve set up in conference room XO2.”

your gaze darted to caleb, who was speaking with the woman at the forefront of ever’s team. his tone was steady, his expression calm, but to you, it was infuriatingly unreadable. how could he be so composed? how could he stand there, shoulder to shoulder with the people who might have made you both into weapons? your mind raced with fragments of memory and half-formed theories.

caleb’s words echoed in your mind: “we’re human weapons, made to destroy each other.” it was a concept you’d rejected at first, clinging to the idea that you were still whole, just a hunter with a weird heart. but the cracks had started to show. the unnatural resilience, the strange flashes of memory that felt both foreign and familiar, the way caleb’s presence had always felt like a tether. had josephine known? had she always known what you were? was that why she left you those documents, why she’d placed zayne in your path?

as you walked toward the mentioned room, the sound of your boots echoed faintly in the metallic corridor, mingling with the synchronized footsteps of the armed guards flanking you. their presence was suffocating, a living barricade of authority around you. their weapons were sleek and unrelenting.

the corridor opened up into a larger chamber, the entrance marked by a reinforced door flanked by additional guards. their posture was identical to the others, their faces emotionless masks as they stepped aside to let you pass. the door hissed open with a low, mechanical groan, revealing a room that was as starkly advanced as the rest of skyhaven.

as you waited for caleb to acknowledge you, suddenly all of the guards left, leaving only caleb, you and the lady in the room.

caleb gestured for you to take a seat, his voice low but firm. “sit,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. you hesitated for a fraction of a second, your gaze flicking to him before complying. the grey-haired woman took a seat across from you, her sharp eyes meeting yours with an intensity that made your pulse quicken.

caleb remained standing, his hands resting on the back of the chair beside you. his presence was steady, but you could feel the tension radiating from him. he leaned down, close enough that you could feel the warmth of his breath against your ear.

"do as you’re told and don’t cause any trouble," he whispered, his voice low and edged with an authority that sent a shiver down your spine. "you won’t get hurt, then."

your body stiffened at his words, your fists curling slightly against the cool surface of the table. despite the sharpness in his tone, there was an undercurrent of something else—something almost protective.

the grey-haired woman—you still didn’t know her name—exchanged a few words with caleb and then rose from her seat completely ignoring you. her heels clicked against the floor as she strode toward the door, her sharp gaze lingering on you for a moment before she exited. you caught the faintest glint of approval in her eyes as she passed. the door hissed shut behind her, leaving you and caleb alone in the room… or so it seemed. you glanced to the side, catching sight of the conference window. she was still there, standing with her arms crossed, her sharp silhouette illuminated by the sterile glow of the room beyond. a microphone sat near her hand, her presence palpable even in her absence.

"if you’re understanding the situation, then let’s go ahead and have a nice chat, right, pipsqueak?” caleb said, straightening and placing his hands on the table. “there’s more than one pair of eyes observing you in this room and it will be over before you know it". if he was trying to console you, he was doing a terrible job.

the investigation started with stupid questions like what was your name, age and evol. questions about the chronorift catastrophe resurfaced and time dragged slow by the time caleb got to the more important questions. your patience were running thin, asking yourself why was the need of all this bullshit if they wouldn’t explain things to you at the end of the day.

caleb’s monotone tone annoyed you more than anything, but the eyes observing you in this room stopped you from starting a childish banter with the colonel. speaking of eyes, the grey-haired-scary woman kept hers on you the whole time. you could feel her obsession over this ever entity all the way from fucking linkon city. you hated it.

as time passed by, you started to grow restless when he got to ask the questions about granny. it was infuriating the way he was speaking like he wasn’t there the whole time—like he wasn’t the other child that josephine took under her wing.

your anger faltered when caleb reached into his jacket and pulled out a stack of papers. the documents slid across the table with a deliberate motion, their edges crisp and yellowed with age. the faint scent of old paper mixed with the sterile tang of the room. “these,” he said, tapping the top of the stack with two fingers, “are her personnel files from ever.”

his words hit like a punch to the gut. for a moment, all you could do was stare at him, your mind struggling to process what he’d just said. the room seemed to tilt, and you gripped the edge of the chair to steady yourself.

“what?”, your throat was hoarse from answering all of the stupid questions previously, leaving you with a sense of laziness.

“this is what we were capable of gathering from the ever base, turns out they didn’t questioned why we needed it at all”. his words hung in the air as if taunting you.

“what are you on about, caleb?” the words escaped your lips, hollow and trembling. the honorifics were gone now, discarded the second his eyes shifted toward the grey-haired woman observing from the other room.

“would you at least look at it first?”, his annoyed tone made your blood boil.

“not if you’re going to keep playing me, this is not funny.” even after you said that, his lips quirked into a milimetrical smirk.

“i’m not asking you to jump from the observation deck, pipsqueak, i’m asking you to read our granny’s documents”.

you wanted to laugh—this was absurd. it had to be.

“i don’t have a reason to lie to you, do i?” he replied, his voice maddeningly calm. that infuriating tone of his—it made you want to reach across the table and slap the smugness off his face. how dare he accuse the woman who had raised you, who had raised both of you, of being involved in something as insidious as this entity?

“shut up and stop running in circles!” you shoved the chair back as you stood, the legs screeching against the floor. you leaned forward, eyes locked on his with a fire that demanded answers. “is this a game to you? did i come all the way from linkon city for nothing? you said you would help me.”

“and i am helping you.” caleb’s reply was calm, as if he weren’t phased by your outburst. “this is the truth, princess.”

princess. there it was again—that nickname, so casual and so utterly out of place in a room filled with cold, calculated tension. did no one else find it strange that the colonel of the daa was speaking to you like this? a glance at the observation window confirmed that the grey-haired woman hadn’t moved an inch. her gaze remained fixed, expression unreadable.

what had caleb told her about you? about this? and why in god’s name had you agreed to any of it in the first place?

“Y/N.” his voice snapped through the air, sharp and commanding. he saw the way your legs shifted toward the door, the way your hands twitched with the urge to leave. before you could move, his hand shot out, wrapping around your wrist. the contact wasn’t rough, but the authority in his grip held you in place. his eyes met yours, and for a second, you froze under the weight of that gaze. it was as if the word “behave” was scrawled across his face, an order you couldn’t defy.

why did he need you to believe in things that felt so unexplainable? what was he trying so hard to convince you?

“she was recruited at thirty-one,” caleb continued, as if you weren’t about to leave this place for good instants ago. “straight out of her postdoctoral research in applied quantum mechanics and energy manipulation. she was already making waves in the scientific community, so ever snapped her up for their advanced energy division.”

“you don’t even know what you’re talking about”. you defended, freeing your hand from his grip and crossing your arms with anger.

“have you never asked yourself why granny didn’t move houses?”, his eyes were fixed on you, the moment charged with unexplained betrayal. still, he didn’t stop there. “she hated that neighborhood and always complained about the kids leaving trash on the sidewalks. still, she never moved. have you never thought about how she was always alone, didn’t had friends, no one visited? how she was able to afford your college? she never spoke about having children and her family never called.”

the rage that had fueled you moments ago was now dulled by confusion. the image of her—your grandmother, your rock—shifted in your mind, colliding with the version caleb was painting. a version you couldn’t reconcile with the woman who used to hum lullabies while baking or press a kiss to your forehead after long days.

but the conviction in caleb’s tone was undeniable, and the papers lying between you were a damning testament to something you weren’t ready to face.

hesitant, you reached for the documents, your fingers trembling. the top page bore a formal header: EVER CORPORATION - PERSONNEL DOSSIER: DR. JOSEPHINE. below it, a photograph of your grandmother stared back at you, her sharp features framed by neatly pinned hair and a lab coat adorned with various badges of rank.

you scanned the documents, words like chief research officer and project architect leaping out at you. “she was the head scientist?” you asked, your voice barely audible.

fucking hell. this was impossible.

“not just head scientist,” caleb said. “she was promoted to director of advanced energy systems by thirty-five. she oversaw the development of key protocore technologies before spearheading project aether. these reports,” he gestured to the papers, “detail her work in bioenergetics, quantum harmonics, and adaptive energy matrices. she didn’t just design the aether core—she built the framework that made it possible.”

he made a pause to glance at you. you felt his eyes on you, heavy with meaning, but you couldn’t bring yourself to stop reading the details in front of you. every line on the page chipped away at the foundation of what you thought you knew.

“i know this because we used to work together.” the words sliced through the sterile air, shattering the fragile barrier between your disbelief and the truth he was forcing on you. there it was again—an unexplainable revelation that felt shattering and wrong.

what was that again?

your hands froze, trembling slightly as the paper slipped from your grasp. your eyes lifted to meet his, and for a moment, the rest of the room faded into nothing. the hat was off his head now, his fluffy hair slightly mussed as if this moment required something more personal, more vulnerable. it didn’t match the clinical coldness of the room or the gaze of the grey-haired woman observing from the corner. it felt intimate, despite the invasive presence lurking just behind the glass.

“what is that supposed to mean?”, your heart was beating like crazy, you could feel the vibrations thrumming through your ears. “i don’t… i don’t believe you”.

“she recruited me to take care of you.” his voice was quieter now, and for the first time, you saw a flicker of something raw in his expression. empathy, maybe. or guilt. it was enough to make him look away, his gaze dropping to the papers spread between you. “as an experiment.”

his words hung in the air like a loaded weapon. the tingling sensation that ran down your spine turned into a full-body shiver. your breath hitched, and tears stung at the corners of your eyes, threatening to spill over. your throat tightened as the weight of what he was saying settled in, suffocating and relentless.

“impossible. granny wasn’t a woman on a mission, she was…”, you gulped, “she was intelligent and kind.”

the room spinned, your breath hitched. again, the situation was sadly laughable. were those times you dreamed about blood, about a life that didn’t seem to belong to you all real? were they fragments of your memory? weren’t they just coincidences?

gods, how were you so stupid? how did you never think about this?

“was all of this ever all along?” you muttered, the words tasting bitter on your tongue. the room felt too small, the air too stifling. your hands clenched into fists at your sides, and for a fleeting moment, you wanted to punch something, anything. it felt childish, but the frustration boiling in your chest demanded release.

“why would she hide this?” your voice cracked as you spoke, trembling with the weight of everything you were trying to hold back. “why wouldn’t she tell me?”

you didn’t see a reason to keep this from you. from your life. would you even know about this if you never blindly agreed to show your face in the nest that day? how could something so enormous not make itself accidentally aware throughout one’s whole life?

and how could you be so stupidly blind? what were you, a child?

caleb’s gaze softened slightly. “because she knew what ever would do if they thought you were a threat at that time. she hid the truth to protect you, but in doing so, she left you vulnerable. and now, we’re all paying the price.”

“protecting me?” you echoed, your voice laced with disbelief. “how is lying to me, hiding everything, supposed to protect me? she left me completely blind!”

you were so angry. angry at yourself, angry at the woman who raised you, angry at caleb for not telling you, angry even at fucking zayne for handling you those documents from you. he probably also had secrets about your heart’s condition that he never talked about.

how could anyone possibly hide something like this from you? weren’t they your friends?

how did betrayal felt so bitter and deserving at the same time?

“you were a kid, Y/N,” caleb said, his voice calm but laced with an edge of frustration, as though he were trying to reason with a storm.

“so were you!” you snapped, the words sharp and cutting. the knot of anger and betrayal in your chest tightened, spreading like fire through your veins. “you never… did you never think about how i would feel? god, caleb.”

caleb leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table, his fingers interlocking as he spoke. “she left you blind because she knew they were watching. she couldn’t risk them finding out how much she cared about you, how far she was willing to go to shield you. the second they saw you as a threat—or as leverage—everything she’d done would have been for nothing.”

his words settled over you like a heavy fog, dense and suffocating. you wanted to reject them, to push back against the idea that your grandmother—the woman who had been your everything—had willingly kept you in the dark about a past so entwined with danger.

“did she fucking planned her death as well? did she know about the explosion that day?”. you were practically raging now, venom laced with hurt spitting from your mouth as your body leaned over the table, trying to make caleb snap you back into reality. why was he telling you all of these nonsense?

“she asked me to end her the moment she posed a threat to you. she didn’t know about the explosion, i didn’t tell her.” his low tone showed a masked hurt that almost offended you.

oh, you were so pissed.

“so, what?” you said. “she let them turn me into this… thing? this experiment? and then she just… left?”

“she didn’t just leave. she stayed in their system as long as she could, long enough to set things in motion for you to have a chance of surviving. she made choices that no one should ever have to make, and she paid for them.” your eyes watered and your chest tightened.

“do i really have a chance?” you asked, your voice trembling as you pointed toward the grey-haired woman standing beyond the glass. “isn’t she from ever? what are you doing with these people, caleb? heavens, i can’t even understand you anymore.”

his face didn’t change immediately, but his shoulders seemed to tense, the weight of your words pressing down on him. when he spoke, his voice was low, steady. “josephine told me everything,” he began, his gaze dropping to the table for just a moment. “right after i turned old enough to understand what it all meant. she didn’t just tell me—she made me promise.”

“promise what?!” your voice cracked, and the anger that had been simmering inside you surged again, fueled by the sharp sting of treachery.

“to protect you,” he said, his words slow and deliberate, as though each one was a confession. “she used me, Y/N. she knew what was going to happen. she knew what they’d try to do to you, what they’d use you for. and she… she made me a part of her plan.”

“her plan?” you echoed, the bitterness in your voice cutting through the air. “what plan, caleb? because from where i’m standing, all i see is a mess she left for me to clean up.”

his jaw tightened, and he finally looked back at you, his amethyst eyes sharp but filled with something raw and unspoken. “it wasn’t just her plan. it became mine too. i let her use me, Y/N, because i thought—i hoped—it would mean you’d never have to deal with this. i thought i could handle it for both of us.”

“and what?” you snapped, leaning forward as your frustration boiled over. “you just decided for me? you and her both?”

“i didn’t decide for you,” he shot back, his voice rising for the first time, though his control quickly reined it in. “i decided to protect you. there’s a difference.”

“why would you do that?” you asked, your voice quieter now but no less cutting. “because it feels like all both of you did was trap me in this endless nightmare.”

caleb’s patience snapped. you saw the moment it happened—something dark flickered behind his eyes, replacing the calm exterior he’d been holding onto. without warning, he rose from his chair, the scrape of metal against the floor echoing through the room. before you could react, his hands slammed down on the table on either side of you, caging you in with his sheer presence.

he leaned over you, his frame engulfing yours entirely. his proximity forced you backward, the cool surface of the table pressing against your spine as you arched slightly to meet his gaze. the shift in his demeanor sent a shiver down your spine—not fear, but something far more complicated. his presence was suffocating, his intensity overwhelming, and yet you couldn’t look away.

if anyone entered the room now, they wouldn’t even know you were there, hidden entirely behind his broad frame. he was close—too close—and every inch of him radiated authority and tension.

you still felt anger pulse inside you. even with his figure towering over you, you stared right back into his eyes, daring him to explain. but caleb wasn’t waiting for your permission to speak—his words spilled out, sharp and unrelenting, as though he’d been holding them in for far too long.

“you can scream all you want, princess,” he began, his voice dangerously low but cutting, “but i’m not letting you blame the woman who gave me the chance of loving you for something she regretted every day of her life until the day she died.” his eyes burned into yours, daring you to interrupt, but you stayed silent, your breath caught in your throat.

“she designed the aether core,” he continued, the words bitter, as if they left a bad taste in his mouth, “but she didn’t know it was going to be put in a fucking child. she told me that. she swore it to me.” his voice cracked slightly, a rare vulnerability slipping through before he pressed on.

“she would never partake in something so inhuman and cruel if she’d known about it,” he said, his tone hardening again. “when she realized what they were doing—what you were—she made a choice. she could’ve run and left us behind, but she didn’t do that.” his gaze softened for a brief moment before his jaw tightened. “she took us with her.”

his next words struck you like a blow. “ever knew the potential the aether core had. so they created an antidote. me.”

the silence that followed was deafening, his confession hanging heavy in the air between you. your heart raced, but you couldn’t bring yourself to respond—not yet.

“before i even knew you, princess, our destinies were bound,” he said, his voice quieter now, but no less intense. “we were never meant to be anything else—two halves of a cruel design, bound together by ruthless people driven by intense power.”

he leaned in slightly, his presence overwhelming. “when she told me everything, when i finally understood, i made a choice. i sacrificed myself to continue the fucking experiments ever wanted me to participate, so no one else in this world would have the capacity to destroy you other than me.” he straightened, his tone heavy with finality. “only me.”

you heard your own hiccup as if it were from somene else.

"kirsten was her colleague," caleb said, his voice steady but carrying an edge of urgency. "she also left the project behind when things got heated. since then, they’ve been trying to capture you. she was the one who handed me these documents." he gestured toward the stack of papers, his gaze flicking briefly to the woman observing you from beyond the glass. "grandma trusted her."

your surprise was impossible to hide. your eyes darted to the woman, her stoic presence now layered with a significance you hadn’t grasped until this moment.

"we both are trying to find a way to protect you," caleb continued, his tone firm. "and infiltrating ever is the first step to do that. we need to gather as much information we can and gain their trust so we can take them down and their fucking crazy plan of interstellar domination."

oh fuck, they wanted the aether core for that?

he leaned closer, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your breath catch. "do you understand it now, pipsqueak?" his voice softened at the nickname, but the weight of his words lingered, pressing into the space between you.

the room seemed to shrink as the truth settled over you like a heavy cloak, suffocating and cold. your chest tightened, and before you realized it, tears began streaming down your face, silent but relentless. you hadn’t even noticed them falling until caleb stepped closer, his expression softening in a way that made your heart ache even more.

his hands cupped your cheeks, the calloused pads of his fingers brushing against your skin as he tried to wipe the tears away.

“do you understand how i need you to live, princess?” caleb’s voice cracked, raw with emotion, tugging at strings in your heart you didn’t even realize were there. “i love you so much, you have no idea the limits i’d go to prove it to you.”

his words settled over you like a tempest, leaving you breathless and trembling. it wasn’t just what he said—it was the way he said it, every syllable laced with unrelenting devotion and a darkness that both frightened and comforted you. you felt so dangerously cherished, as though his love could burn the world down if it meant keeping you safe.

the worst part? you could say you felt the same.

his grip on your face tightened, not painfully but with a firm desperation, his calloused thumbs brushing away the lingering wetness on your cheeks. his eyes softened as they held yours, the fierceness in them giving way to something almost pleading.

“if you want me to beg, i’ll fucking beg you, princess. if you want me on my knees, i’ll do it. just stay here with me where i can see you.” he whispered, his voice barely audible but impossibly steady, his tone dropped so low it was almost a growl, the sound vibrating through the air and sinking deep into your chest. his jaw tightened, the sharp angles of his face accentuated by the tension coiling in his body.

why did his love felt so crushing?

his hands stayed on your face, grounding you, but his grip was firm, as if he was afraid you might disappear if he let go. his eyes, dark and stormy, searched yours, waiting for an answer you weren’t sure you could give.

“why are you doing this to me?” you finally whispered, your voice trembling under the weight of his confession. “why do you care so much?” the question felt sacred, as if it wasn’t meant to be spoken aloud, but you couldn’t keep it inside any longer.

his jaw tightened, his hands still cupping your face as his eyes locked onto yours. for a moment, he didn’t speak, as though the answer was too heavy, too raw to give voice to.

“did they hurt you, caleb?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. “in those experiments?”

your clenched fists, tight with anger and frustration, slowly dissolved into something softer. the tension in your body ebbed away, leaving only the raw ache in your chest. before you could second-guess yourself, your hands moved on their own, rising to his face. your fingertips brushed against his jaw, tentative at first, before settling into a gentle caress.

“they can hurt me all they want,” caleb said, his voice low and raw, each word cutting through the air like a blade. “as long as they keep their distance from you, i’ll endure it. i’d end myself if it meant that you would never be hurt again.”

his gaze bore into yours, fierce and unrelenting, yet there was a softness in his eyes that made your chest ache. it wasn’t just desperation—it was devotion, the kind that threatened to drown you in its intensity.

“they can’t control my evol anymore, their plan of the antidote backfired” caleb said, his voice vulnerable as if only talking about that chamber already caused him agony. “that’s why they’re scared. the last neural control experiment—the zero gravity chamber was destroyed because the machines couldn’t handle it. they wanted to transform me into a robot, somehow my mind never cooperated”. his gaze averted to the emblem on your chest.

you swallowed hard, his words sinking into your brain like lead. “aren’t we a danger to each other, caleb?” you asked, your voice trembling, hiccups breaking through as tears streaked your face. you were scared. “am i capable of hurting you? do i… isn’t it dangerous if we stay together?”

he stared at you for a long moment, his gaze unwavering and intense. “if there’s anyone in this world i’d let hurt me, it’s you, princess,” he said, planting a kiss on your forehead as he did when you were both kids. and then his tone shifted into something darker, almost obsessive. “i don’t fucking care what you do to me, you can hurt me all you want if that makes you fucking happy. don’t you understand?”

“don’t say that…” you murmured, trying to avert your gaze, your cheeks burning hot with embarrassment and suffocation.

he smirked, a sharp, knowing curve of his lips as his thumb brushed another tear from your cheek. “i want to create a world where it’s just the two of us,” he said, his voice dropping to a low whisper that sent shivers racing down your spine.

his bionic hand gripped your waist, pulling you flush against him, the unyielding strength of his hold making your breath hitch. he leaned in closer, so close his lips nearly brushed your ear. “just say the word, and i’ll do it,” he murmured, the heat of his breath against your skin sending your mind spinning. “i’ll end everything. you know that.”

“caleb…” you murmured, your palms pressing gently against his chest, trying to create even the smallest bit of distance between you. “i thought you had gone crazy.” your voice trembled as you looked up at him, the weight of his intensity still bearing down on you. “i’m sorry you had to endure that… because of me.” your breaths came quickly, your words tumbling out before you could stop them. “i… i still think you’re crazy, though.”

a flicker of amusement crossed his face, but you didn’t give him a chance to reply.

“but… what do we do now?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, your thoughts spinning wildly. “do they know you brought me here?”.

“all of the personnel outside is from ever, they think i’m convincing you to willingly participate in the project. make you turn into some kind of sacrifice for humanity. bullshit.” just saying it out loud seemed painful for him, and hearing it sounded even more crazy.

“they wanted to start everything straight away, test the energy of the aether core inside of you before we could even talk. i convinced them to let me handle you, that’s why i can’t let you leave skyhaven for now.” he sounded almost guilty when saying those words, waiting patiently for your reaction so he could be deemed innocent.

“so i am your hostage, basically?”, something akin to amusement surged in your face, dried tears staining your rosy cheeks.

“that depends if you are willing to cooperate, just say the word and i’ll fly us across west coast immediately.” his gaze made you feel the most heartbroken and cherished woman in the world. cruel. “i don’t plan to stay here forever”.

“what about kirst—” your words stopped abruptly as realization struck you like a lightning bolt. your eyes widened as your breath hitched in your throat. “oh my fucking god, caleb, kirsten!”

panic surged through you, and you shoved him back with far more force than you intended, as if he were suddenly contagious. your cheeks burned hot as your gaze darted toward the observation room. you could feel every beat of your heart hammering against your ribs.

from where you stood, the glass gave an impeccable view of everything that had transpired. your stomach churned as you imagined what she might have seen, what conclusions she might have drawn. but as your eyes landed on the empty chair, your confusion deepened. kirsten wasn’t there.

“where… where did she go?” you stammered, your embarrassment morphing into unease. “wasn’t she just—she was right there!” you pointed toward the glass, your voice climbing an octave.

“jesus, when did you become so strong, pipsqueak?” caleb muttered, his tone equal parts stunned and impressed as he steadied himself. the few inches you’d managed to push him away seemed to amuse him more than anything else, his eyes glinting with an undeniable sense of pride.

“caleb, kirsten!” you exclaimed, pointing toward the observation room with wide, exasperated eyes. “did she see us? oh my god, she might think i’m a whore!”

he raised an eyebrow, clearly trying to suppress a laugh. “c’mon, pipsqueak, don’t push it,” he said, his voice calm and teasing as he stepped forward. “i bet she understands. we were made for each other, after all.” his tone turned deliberately corny, and you could feel your cheeks burning like they were on fire again.

“don’t say that!” you snapped, mortified, as he tried to close the gap you’d created between you. you quickly put a hand on his chest to stop him, your glare sharp. “don’t touch me, you perv!”

caleb smirked, his amusement only growing at your reaction. “are you seriously worried about an 70-year-old woman judging you right now?” he asked, his tone dripping with disbelief, “after the life or death situation we just discussed?”

“you can’t keep saying these things to a woman…” you muttered, your voice trailing off as you stubbornly ignored the look caleb was giving you. you kept the distance between you, maintaining the few inches of air.

“things? what things?” he teased, his tone light and playful, though his eyes held that familiar mischievous glint.

you groaned, feeling the heat creep back up your neck. “like… like you’re going to die for me! you asked for a custom-made uniform for me just like yours, do you know what this looks like for other people? and that thing you said about being on your knees? jesus…” you stammered, your words tangling over each other as your embarrassment grew. “you shouldn’t say those things in moments like this!”

caleb’s lips curved into a slow smirk, clearly enjoying how flustered you were. “i want them to look at you and remember who you’re with,” he murmured. “do you want me to prove it?”

your eyes widened in horror as you saw him begin to shift, his knees bending slightly as though he were actually going to kneel in front of you.

“oh my god, caleb. get up! my god!” you hissed, your hands flying out to stop him before he could make good on his teasing. your gaze darted toward the window and the door, nerves prickling at the thought of someone walking in and witnessing this absurd scene.

caleb, meanwhile, was practically doubled over in laughter, clearly finding your panic far too amusing. “i’ll keep that in mind,” he said between chuckles, his tone teasing as ever. “you don’t like things in public, princess. noted.”

“what the hell is that supposed to mean?!” you snapped, your voice climbing a few octaves in your exasperation. your hands flew up to cover your face, both to hide your flaming cheeks and to block out the infuriating sight of his grin. “oh my god…”

caleb’s laughter only grew louder at your reaction, his shoulders shaking with the force of it. “relax, pipsqueak,” he said, his voice still laced with amusement. “i’m just saying I’ll keep it private next time.”

next time? sweet heavens.

you glared at him, your cheeks burning hotter than ever. “you still haven’t told me your plan, it’s time we get out of here, they will start getting suspicious,” you said, your voice firm despite the lingering embarrassment.

“oh, don’t worry, baby. they know they’re dead if they interrupt us”.

despite his infuriating smirks and relentless teasing, you couldn’t deny the way caleb’s presence steadied something deep within you—a part of yourself that had always felt untethered, incomplete. there was a gravity to him—oh the irony of it all—, an unshakable certainty in his actions, even when everything else around you felt like chaos. the pieces of your past, fragmented and jagged, were beginning to fall into place.

as you stared at his grin right now, you asked yourself if it would be the right time to confess your feelings for him since childhood. he knew you loved him, but you still wanted to say those three little words.

you hated how much you didn’t want to believe him, but there was no escaping the truth: caleb had always been there, weaving himself into the fabric of your life in ways you hadn’t fully understood until now.

“i trust you, caleb. with my life.”

the words felt heavier than you’d anticipated, and for a moment, the air between you shifted. you watched as his expression changed, his playful smirk fading into something more serious. his gaze locked onto yours, and you could see the way your confession hit him, sharp and profound, like it was a dangerous weapon in the wrong hands.

but how could you not? how could you not trust the man when just being near him brought a peace that felt almost childlike—a fleeting memory of safety you hadn’t realized you’d lost? when every sacrifice he made screamed of a love so consuming it defied logic, a love that compelled him to climb through military ranks with a single-minded determination, as if his very existence depended on it? he spent his days training, his nights planning, and his rare moments of respite killing parts of himself, carving away his own humanity, all to try and make you feel whole.

your life had been in his hands from the very beginning, cradled by the will of a man whose obsession burned brighter than any protocore, whose evol bent not to power but to the unrelenting need to love you.

caleb’s love was a force of nature, raw and unyielding, and even if it frightened you, even if it left you reeling, you couldn’t deny the truth of it: it was the only constant in a world that had always sought to tear you apart.

caleb’s love made you shiver. and for some reason, you didn’t mind that at the moment.

“me and kirsten already have a plan,” he said finally, his voice quieter but laced with determination, glancing at the watch displayed in the hologram behind you. “i’ll tell you everything when we’re completely alone. i promise.”

honestly? right now you just wanted to kiss the man in front of you stupid and spill all your love on him. the love you have felt since your first time playing kitty cards with him and kissing each other’s cheeks as kids.

but you were quickly reminded of where you were when you glanced at the door and stared at the daa emblem painted on it. you felt like a wreck of emotions.

the change in scenery left you gasping for air as caleb slowly guided you out of the conference room. the ever personnel not even blinking as you and the colonel passed through them.

your eyes darted around, searching for something familiar, something real to ground you amidst the mess of revelations swimming in your mind. part of you hoped to see kirsten, her sharp eyes and scary aura a strange kind of reassurance in the chaos. but when the grey-haired woman was nowhere to be seen, a small, unexpected wave of relief washed over you.

maybe it was better this way. maybe you weren’t ready to face her yet—not after everything caleb had told you, not when the weight of your own memories, or lack thereof, felt like an anchor dragging you down.

you stared at linkon city sprawling below skyhaven, the glittering lights painting an intricate mosaic against the inky darkness of dawn. from the observation decks you walked over, the city looked almost surreal, a world that felt both achingly familiar and impossibly distant. something tugged at your chest—a dull ache of nostalgia—at the thought of your childhood home hidden somewhere within those shimmering lights.

the tech center that skyhaven was, with its seamless blend of towering glass structures and advanced machinery humming quietly around you, filled you with a strange sense of innocence. as though everything you’d endured until this day could be set aside as a different life of yours.

wasn’t this exactly what the core inside of you was? so powerful it could transcend planets, weaving its influence across time and space—capable of creating not just miracles but catastrophes?

weren't you a walking human weapon? haven't you always been one?

your thoughts were interrupted by caleb gesturing toward his room, his tone calm as he said he’d finish up and spend the rest of the day with you. you barely registered the words, too lost in the whirlwind of your mind to notice how the two of you had already made your way back to his quarters.

just as he turned to leave, you reached out, grabbing his hand instinctively. the touch froze him in place, his eyes immediately locking onto yours in his chambers. you wanted to say something, anything, but the words caught in your throat. would it sound strange to admit you didn’t want to be alone? to confess that you were scared?

caleb stepped closer, his presence grounding you like a warm tether against the cold, sterile hallway outside his room. “you’ve been thinking about it, haven’t you?” he asked, his voice quiet, gentle. it wasn’t a question so much as an acknowledgment of the weight you carried. he grabbed your hand on his.

you nodded, your grip tightening slightly on his hand. “it’s just… too much,” you admitted, your voice trembling. “to think something so small—something inside me—has the power to destroy so much. reshape worlds. ruin lives. it fucking terrifies me, caleb.”

he didn’t answer right away, but his silence felt steady, unhurried. his thumb brushed lightly against the back of your hand, a simple gesture, but one that somehow made it easier to breathe.

“listen to me,” he said, his voice low, steady. “you’re allowed to be scared. no one’s asking you to shoulder this alone. not me, not anyone.”

you nodded, your throat tight with emotion, as he squeezed your hand gently. “i’ll just go fix some things, and i’ll be right back, okay? i’m not leaving you alone anymore.”

his words struck something deep within you, a vulnerability you’d tried so hard to keep buried. you blinked rapidly, trying to hold back the tears threatening to spill, wondering why you were so emotional today.

“promise me,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. was it selfish? probably. but at this point, you didn’t care. caleb cared about you—loved you, even—and you were done pretending you didn’t need him.

his lips curved into a soft smile, one that held more warmth than his usual teasing grins. he leaned in slightly, his gaze steady and full of affection. “i promise,” he said, the words carrying a weight that made your heart stutter.

you watched his back turn to you after he left another kiss on your forehead, the warmth of it lingering long after he stepped away.

maybe the betrayal would fade someday, its sharp edges dulled by time and the quiet moments like this that he gifted you. or maybe it wouldn’t. maybe the wound would remain, a reminder of everything he had done to you—and for you.

but even now, as you stood there watching him walk away, you couldn’t deny the part of yourself that clung to what he had done. the part of you that loved him for it, no matter how much you tried to resist.

after all, you were his since the beginning.

author's notes: tell me i didn't ruin this halfway bc that is what i felt when i was finishing it. next chapter they will be doing the woompakoompa so buckle up (i just hope it doesn't turn into a 20k words smut scene) lord help me. i'll cry if nobody comments below because my week's sanity was poured into this work. just kidding (i'm not), i love you freaky caleb girlies, see you next time, xo.

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ghostarii · 2 years ago

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GLASS TABLE GIRL ! ～ BLADE . ❛ i just wanna be one of your girls tonight.

˖ ⁺ ⫾  SHOW NOTES fem!reader ❱ guitarist!blade ❱ groping ❱ reader is a groupie ❱ PWP!!! ❱ (reader is intoxicated so technically) dubcon ❱ spanking ❱ degradation ❱ clit n nipple slapping ❱ ig ooc!blade but who cares ❱ choking/asphyxiation ❱ size kink ❱ dacryphilia ❱ outdoor/public sex ❱ exhibitionism ❱ spit ❱ face-fucking ❱ dirty talk ❱ reader has 0 self respect ❱ name calling ❱ overstimulation ❱ creampie & unprotected sex (stay safe) ❱ clit pinching ❱ hair pulling ❱ multiple orgasms ❱ cumplay(?) ❱ no aftercare ❱ minors & dc antis do not interact.

˖ ⁺ ⫾  CREDITS i have not written a fic in so effing long nd i was high writing this so excuse my rustiness :c but i have risen from my grave so let’s rejoice nonetheless ! !blade is on my mind 24/7 n i just want to be used n abused by him omfg turn me OWT! i listened to one of the girls by the weeknd literally the entire time i wrote this sooo feel free to listen while reading ^_^ i was js writing as i went so ts is very pwp sorryyy . . i’m gonna try to be more active on here i js need time to write so in the meantime pls show that my works would be appreciated here =( likes & reblogs are so GREATLY APPRECIATED ! ! ! if u don’t like, pls scroll cs comm guidelines r so mean to creators T_T

˖ ⁺ ⫾  RUN TIME 7.5k+ words . (of pure filth)

IF SOMEBODY ASKED you who your favorite artist was, you would say Ren—known by his moniker: BLADE. There was nothing you didn't like about this man; everything about him fundamentally and ultimately was the object of a girlish obsession. You knew all of his songs front to back, followed his social media on every single platform, and never missed a single piece of media uploaded about him. Your life was built around his style: dark and mysterious and enigmatic. He was your number one, unmatched and unchanged.

He was a hard man to come by. He frequently held small shows, with no more than twenty-thousand people on the high end. It was impossible to go, and every time you tried, your chance miserably passed you up. But this time, June twenty-third, twenty-twenty-three, you were right there, in the middle of the pit, only mere feet away from Blade. It was your first time seeing him in person by the grace of your best friend who surprisingly snagged tickets, and you’d never been more grateful in your life.

Blade was ethereal. The concert videos you’d seen over the years did not compare to the image in front of your face. It was dark, the main lights being spotlights shone on his pearly, perspiring, black, skin-tight silk-clothed skin, and dim red LED lights on the set behind him. His fingers ran effortlessly across his guitar, an inexplicably attractive riff and tone singing from the instrument. You felt like you were in Heaven, your eyes never leaving the show before your eyes. It was hot and uncomfortable in the pit but it was worth it. So worth it because he looked at you: taking you in with an unfaltering stare. His lip slipped between his teeth, and he shook his head, throwing stray locks to the back, and God, you felt as though you needed to be bolted to the ground with the way you wanted to jump on the stage. He walks up to the microphone, the most gut-wrenchingly hot vocals sliding off of his tongue. His eyes were closed, smudged eyeliner emphasizing his fluttering, long lashes, and his lips were spit-slicked, parting and pursing with each sultry lyric leaving. They were plump and rosy as if they were asking to be kissed—it was a sight to behold.

You sang your heart out, dragging your hand from waving in the air down a curvy path on your body, going from your shoulder to your chest to below where Blade’s sight would reach. You turned to your friend and recited the lyrics with a big smile and following giggle, all to turn your attention back to the stage and lock eyes with him. Your thighs clamped together just at the narrowed and burning gaze he delivered. You don’t think you’ve ever wanted a man more than you do right now.

Your friend found a way closer to the stage and you wedged your way between the crowd, finding yourself so close that the speakers were banging on your eardrums. You could feel the music in your bones, and all you could think of to describe it was hot and heavy. Maybe it was all of the pregaming you and your friend did before the concert, or the condensed heat and gyrating bodies, but you were so hot. You wipe your sweaty skin as you sway to the beginning of the next song, taking out your phone to begin recording.

Blade leans into the mic, muttering lowly, “I want you all to sing.” He pulls the microphone out of the stand, letting his guitar hang off of his shoulder from the strap. And that’s when he makes his way to where you stand, muttering small “yeah”’s and “good job”’s into the mic as the crowd collectively sings. He kneels right before you, “Sing.” he says into the mic.

You go wide-eyed—cute, he thinks—but you start singing. You grab an open portion of the microphone, leaning in as close as possible and reciting the lyrics of the song just as you were told. All eyes and cameras were on you, and that included Blade, who held an intense gaze on you the entire verse. When you finish the crowd erupts in cheers and screams, and he pulls away, finishing the song. You turned to your friend and screamed about your main character moment, dancing and singing even happier into her recording phone. This was the best night of your life.

For the rest of the concert, you had the time of your life. Blade ends the show with a final guitar solo, the entire audience silent as he wrecks the strings and pours his heart into his vocals. He briefly spoke to his fans, thanking everyone for coming out and heading backstage as everyone began to clear out. And all he could think about was that girl who his eyes couldn't help but wander toward, and to whom his thoughts dedicated his innuendos. He remembers the sign you held at the beginning of the show: “BLADE ♡WNS M(Y)E (HEART) ♡”. Your eyes honed filth that your natural disposition didn’t and he longed for it. He held bated breath as he informed his security about you, requesting you be located and brought to him and they replied with “We’ll try our best, sir.”

It was an after-concert tradition for Blade to hit up a local club, especially in situations like this where it was his last stop. He hoped he’d find you there, but he knew you would, especially if you were as big of a fan as you looked.

“Yukong, just thirty minutes! Please!!” you pleaded, trying to pull your friend into your opinion. She shook her head no, “I can’t! I have to go home! I’m so tired and you know…” you stop your friend there, not wanting to hear about her boyfriend.

“Fine. I’m still going though, text me when you get home.” you didn’t want Yukong to go home. But arguing was pointless, and only time was being put to the test, not her stubbornness. You knew from your years as a Blade fan that he always went to the club after a concert to meet fans, and some rumors even suggested ulterior motives, so you wanted to go. Yukong frowned at your flat expression but still hugged you, waving at you as she got in her car to go home. You’d be flying solo, but you had faith in yourself.

So you make your way over to the nearest club via taxi, praying that this is the one that Blade would visit. You weren’t all too familiar with the place, its name, Starskiff Haven, only being one you’ve heard in passing. Regardless, your thoughts were assured by the abundance of fighting and pushing bodies to get in the door—and when your phone lit up, a Twitter notification from a Blade Updates page noting his location, Starskiff Haven, you smiled widely, making your way to the line.

It was way too long and you weren’t interested in waiting all night—you had to meet Blade. A time like this is when Yukong comes into hand with her very stern persuasion, something that’s near impossible to deny. But she left, and you’d have to figure out a way in. And a thought immediately came to mind.

You walked to the front of the line, breathing in deeply and psyching yourself up for how incredibly you were about to embarrass yourself. When you exhale, you book it, beelining straight into the club, right past security. You immediately shift your demeanor, blending into the crowd seamlessly as security guards rush in, looking around for you. Hiding behind the most cluelessly drunk girl, you make your way to the bar, immediately ordering a sidecar. It packed a punch and the combination of how many shots you had earlier, it’d be just enough to get you through whatever you were about to do.

You turn around in the swivel stool, taking in the atmosphere and coasting the area for any sighting of Blade. The club was darker than the concert but heavily illuminated with hazy, colorful LEDS and much, much louder, filled to the brim with chatter and deafening bass-boosted music. Your drink was brought to you moments later, and with a big sip, you raked your eyes over the club once again. You could see bodies grinding on the main floor, the DJ bopping his head as his hands moved diligently across his DJ controller, couples making out and slipping into cornered areas, and friend groups recording and taking pictures. It was a lively environment, sure, and from the strength that beat on your tongue, established by incredibly skilled bartenders—but you weren’t looking for a new clubbing spot, you were looking for Blade.

And Blade was looking for you. Swimming through the unforgivingly hot crowd for you. He wasn’t itching to have you, he was itching to take you. Every time he closed his eyes he was brought back to his time on stage and how you danced in the audience. How your lips pushed out his lyrics and how your hands couldn’t stop waving in the air and running on your skin. How you swiped off sweat from your forehead and fanned yourself with your sign. And how you couldn’t keep your star-filled eyes off of him. Every light reflection off of your eyes showed desperation and neediness. You were begging to be picked without ever uttering a word, and he was not one to ignore indulgence. You needed him and he wanted you—so where are you?

Perched on that blue-velvet cushioned swivel stool. Sipping whatever remaining contents of your sidecar. And when he saw you, you saw him. You locked eyes and each plastered ill-intended smirks across your faces. And while you had his attention, you brought the glass to your lips, smacking them open and running your tongue along the sugar rim, collecting the sweetness on your tongue. You sucked on your tongue, rolling your eyes and he swears the “Ahh” leaving your lips is audible from his distance. He stayed still even as you slapped down your money on the counter, hopping down and disappearing into the crowd.

You make your way to him quickly, holding onto your rapidly rising chest and laughing at yourself. You were on a roll of unbelievable behavior, but it seemed to be a clean stroke because you were yet to meet a roadblock. And in a very blurry couple of minutes, the goal you’d been working toward was in the palm of your hand—literally.

You danced your way to Blade when you were finally close to him, sliding up against his body sweetly. He was tall and so sturdy against you, but he was smooth like butter as he synced to your movements and danced behind you. His hands were on your waist, pulling you impossibly closer as he pushed up against you. Your exchange was wordless but it spoke volumes. It felt like a dream, entirely too good to be true but you indulged anyway, grinding against him. A gasp escapes your mouth as his left hand unabashedly grapes your tit, squeezing roughly and experimentally. His other hand trails dangerously on the band of your shorts and you let your head fall back on his shoulder, “I'm your biggest fan…”

He laughs at your declaration, leaning to press his lips feather-lightly at the shell of your ear, “Are you now?” you nod immediately, pressing into him. “‘Blade owns me’.” he mocks your sign, and laughs when he feels you slightly tense under his touch.

“I picked you,” and again, he leans down to your ear, “Are you happy, slut?” The word is so mean but it sounds so good from him. You nearly moan, nodding eagerly, as if complying with his word came with a medal. You were a slut, so willing to give it up as soon as he laid eyes on you. And you weren’t afraid to go low to get his attention, doing just about anything to be his for the night.

Fangirls like you are nothing new to Blade and as a man who looks like he does, it comes with the territory. He can read you like a damn book, cover to cover with ease because despite how enigmatic and indifferent to the norm you may try to appear, you wear your whole being on your sleeve. You do everything in your power to be somebody you're not. Your life revolves around who you think you should be and not who you are. A lot of girls are born with “it”: an innate ability to be the one wanted and desired, but you? Your “it” is manufactured, the blueprint drawn out by girls who are it. You're stuck in a limbo created by your age: too old to not be settling down, but too young to not live your life, and you try to make a box for yourself, being the exception to a path laid out for you. You're lost in the life you lead, and with the way you're dancing so shamelessly and needily on him, Blade knows you. You’re the type of girl who sees getting used as a flex, and despite signing an NDA or promising to never say anything, you’ll tell this person and that person that you got to sleep with the Blade; that the Blade picked you. Women like you are a cancer in the industry. Pests that are incessant and damn near impossible to get rid of. He knows you won't be any different than those before you, but there’s a desire to take you that he cannot ignore.

It’s his natural instinct as a man—or he’s just a shitty person. Perhaps a combination of both, because all he can think about is putting you to use. You’re making it so easy, moaning into the air under the thick remixed song the DJ is spinning, grinding against him, and holding his hand on your tit—you want him, and you’re giving yourself to him on a silver platter. You have a clear lack of respect for yourself, but luckily for you, that’s Blade’s type in women.

The atmosphere seems to be getting heavier, and it feels like time is getting slow and choppy. Now your arms are around Blade’s neck and his large hands are holding onto your ass, and you’re so close, you can feel your chests brushing with each breath you take. The world around you is nothing but background. It doesn’t exist to you, it doesn't matter to you. Not when you have Blade, the literal man of your dreams, right in your palm, and all he's looking at is you.

You feel so special. So wanted and so desired. You feel all eyes on you like you're the main attraction and everybody can’t help but watch and weep, wishing to be you. Your ego is skyrocketed and every embarrassing thing you’ve done tonight doesn't matter to you anymore because it paid off. Your eyes locked and the space between you closed. Your heart synced with the booming beat of the current song playing. You lean in, pressing your hands at the back of his neck and pulling him in. And you kiss him. You kiss Blade.

Blade kisses you back. He tightens the grip on your ass and you moan into his mouth, letting him infiltrate your mouth. He sucks on your tongue, smiling against you when he feels you push up on your tippy toes and hears you whimper into his mouth. He kisses you back. He pulls your bottom lip between his teeth, pecking your lips once more before moving to your cheek, then to your jaw, then to your neck. His hands are groping at you, roughly grabbing your ass, then your waist, then your breasts. “Are you wet?”

He says it so only you can hear it. You nod. “How wet?” He moves back up to your jaw, placing another kiss. You flutter your lashes, meeting his gaze, “So wet. All for you.”

At your response, he groans, pulling off of you. He chuckles when you pout at him. You’re just what he needs for this night. He grabs your chin, holding your face and leaning down, your lips brushing against his own. “I'm going to go smoke.” and he tells you this for a reason.

You watch with the biggest smile on your face as he sifts through the crowd, heading out of a side door. It was now or never.

Quickly, you rush to the bathroom to freshen up. You fix your hair, digging into your pocket and fishing out your lipgloss, reapplying, and you fan yourself, cooling down to not look a flustered mess. And just as quick as you ran in, you ran out toward the side door, immediately looking both ways for Blade. You smell smoke distantly and turn right, and a few paces down he stood, leaning against the brick wall of the neighboring restaurant. He's next to stacks of old wood and crates and you smile, thinking about whatever was about to go down between you.

You step in front of him and he smiles, taking you in once again. He blows his smoke in your face, tapping the ash off the cigarette before smashing the butt into the wall behind him. “Hi,” you say. He says nothing back, just slides his hand to the back of your neck and pulls you in. The kiss you share this time is messy and he now asserts control, nipping your bottom lip when he feels you go weak and pulls back.

He rakes his eyes up and down your body as you stand for him. This is the first time all night he’s seen you properly, in moderately okay lighting. Your jean mini-skirt is tight to you, accentuating the curve and fullness of your ass, and teases what’s beneath with your plump thighs poking out and how it rides up slightly. Your skin-tight baby tank is seemingly one with your figure, bringing out the best in you and making him smile with the “I ♡ BLADE” print across your chest. Your thigh-high boots did nothing when you were near him—he was looming and caging. He was intimidating and arousing, and with the lustful gaze you shared, the climax of your day was steadily approaching.

“Take it off.” He looks down at your chest and you get the memo; immediately grabbing the hem of your tank top and pulling it over your head. “Slow. Take your time…” And you listen, letting your body swivel as you remove the shirt. You unhook the clasp of your bra, and before your boobs could spill out of the confines, he grabs you and wedged you between him and the wall he previously leaned on.

The front of your body is slapped on the cold brick, but you’re swallowed in warmth as he presses against you, grinding his hard-on against your ass. One hand grabs your wrists, and the other turns you around. You look at him innocently, shivering at the breeze that blows down the alley. You can smell him: woody, smokey, and expensive. Yet here he was, pressing you up against a brick wall in a random alley. “You’re such an easy slut, y’know.”

“Bet you been thinking about this; daydreaming about your favorite artist pinning you and trashing you like the fucking whore you are.” he presses against your front, nipping at your jaw. “Tell me what you want me to do to you.”

You whimper, “Fuck me. Take me. Make me yours.”

“Tell me.” He growls - your answer not sufficing. “Want you to break me,”

“Always fantasized…wanting you to shove your dick down my throat and use it mindlessly and mercilessly.” He begins to kiss down your throat again, licking the tender skin. He smirks when you stop talking, your breath hitching and your head craning backward to open the expanse of your neck. He starts biting on your newfound sweet spot when you begin again, “Spit in my mouth and force me to swallow it with your cum,”

He gets to your chest, immediately taking a nipple between his teeth. He listens to you wince and whine as he does, pushing your chest into his face. “And make me beg you to fuck me. Teasing me…fuck—pinching me, pulling my hair until I'm teary-eyed and begging…”

“...And then you fuck me like you hate me; choking me, slapping me, degrading me all while I thank you stupidly.”

“You’re just fucking disgusting,” he mumbles around your nipple. He lets your hands go, palming your free tit immediately. His eyes are narrow as you whine when he twinges the bud roughly. “Put so much thought into this…you’re a weirdo slut.”

You shake your head, breathing out heavily to refute his claim, “Nuh-uh—your biggest fan.” you correct.

He laughs at you. You’re much more fun than he thought, and a lot less shameless, too. You're throwing all of your big cards out; this is your go-big or go-home moment, and while you have him here, you’ll bare yourself wholly because if not now, then not ever. Blade has to commend your patience though. You're letting him toy around, graze around your unknown territory and feel you out. You’re needy but obedient. Tired of waiting but understanding. Absolutely fucking shameful and proud, but eager to be good—so maybe he was wrong about you. You do have an “it”: an innate ability to be the perfect fucktoy.

When he lets you go, he immediately instructs you to get on your knees. And you listen immediately. The cold gravel digs into your bare knees and it's incredibly uncomfortable, yet you don’t utter a word. Your nipples are hard and pebbled and are probably so sensitive, yet you say nothing. You only sit before him, fingers dancing on the exposed thigh as you look up at him, waiting to be put to use.

So he slaps you. As you told him to—he slaps you, and his hand is heavy coming against your skin. It sounds off for what felt like possibly hundreds of miles, and your face doesn’t sting, but it hurts. The skin is heating up from the impact and your head turns to the side, hair falling against your face, yet you don’t utter a word. He grabs the back of your head, forcing you to look at him and dangerously smiling when your teary eyes look up at him wide and thankfully. “Pull my cock out,” he instructs, letting you go and standing up straight.

You get to work on his belt, undoing it swiftly, and then you unbutton his pants. You tease yourself: slowly pulling the zipper down, and when pulling his pants down to his ankles, you palm him softly, gently patting his throbbing cock and staring at the growing wet spot in his underwear. You kiss the wet spot, and then you kiss it again, and again until you suck lightly on it while making eye contact with him. You moan at the very faint taste, fluttering your eyes shut, and finally sliding your hand under the band of his underwear, holding his dick.

Blade hisses at your touch, bucking slightly into your hold at the initial contact. Usually, he’d curse you out at this point for going so slow, but he’s letting it slide this time; allowing you to take control and show him how worth it and nasty you really are.

He’s big. He’s thick—your hand can just barely wrap around the entire shaft, and as you lift him to unsheath him from his boxers, you feel how heavy he is. And hard. So fucking hard.

You gawk at his cock like a kid in a candy store, staring at his leaking slit intensely—almost as if you're waiting. “Go ahead; show me how big of a fan you are.”

You kiss his tip, the bead of precum smearing on your lips. Smacking your lips apart suggestively, you wrap your right hand around the base, applying tightness and pressure as you find the right grip, and when you do, you finally lick a clean stripe across the head. Your tongue sweeps up the new milky droplet spilling out, and you contently hum at the taste, making him groan in response. You lick from the angry tip all the way to his trimmed base, then back up again until you’ve teased every side of him and located his sensitive vein.

If anybody would have told you that all you dreamed about would be coming to fruition—all by mere luck and chance—you wouldn’t believe it. And you still don't; even as you spit a thick bead of your saliva on his cock and then massage it in with your tongue, swirling all around the sensitive head. But it’s real because he moans out for you as you finally take him in, the throb getting heavier as he sits on your tongue and your lips hug him tight.

You begin your ministrations: toying with his balls lightly as you bob up and down, going as far as you could. You tried your best to take him all in. You stretched your mouth wide around him until it felt like your mouth was going to rip at the corners and until it felt like all you could do was sputter and leak drool around him. Tears brimmed in your eyes and each time you blinked them back, keeping a pretty smile on your face every time you came up for air. Your lipgloss was mixed in with spit, and clear tear streaks had already begun to run their course with your base makeup, but you didn't stop. You were moaning incessantly, suffocating his dick in your intense vibrations that had him moaning and grunting.

When you come up from your nth deepthroat attempt, it's not for air, but to breathlessly huff out “Fuck my face…please,” And since you asked so nicely…

“Blink twice if it gets to be too much.” You open your mouth as wide as you could, sticking your tongue out. He pulls your hair back for you, yanking your head back and spitting on your tongue. His eyes tell you not to move, so you don’t, keeping eye contact with him as he wraps his other hand around your own, guiding your smaller hands up and down his shaft. He shudders, “F-fuck…’m so fuckin’ hard…”

And then he slides onto your tongue, not wasting any time before bottoming out in your mouth. Your eyes widen in surprise, and your unprepared gags speak volumes to your shock. But that doesn't deter you from wrapping your lips around him. And from there, he pulls out, pulling your head back and then pushing you back down as he thrusts his hips forward. He curses under his breath before picking up his pace, thrusting so hard that his grip tightens on your hair to hold you properly in place, fucking roughly into your face. You can only choke and sputter, having already taken your hands from around his dick and digging crescent nail shapes into his thighs. The sounds eliciting from the two of you are so nasty and filthy. His balls slap at your chin, your voice rings out from around his girth, and his moans echo around the world. You can’t take it but you’re doing a great job of trying. He slaps your face again, pulling out and hitting his tip on your tongue. “Keep your fucking eyes on me,”

“If you can do that, I'll cum all down your throat and all over your pretty fucking face, okay?” You nod eagerly, and as an incredibly degrading action of praise and acceptance, he slaps his spit-slicked dick against your cheek a few times. “Good girl.” Butterflies swarm in your stomach at his praise.

When Blade slides in, he smacks against your face. He goes to the very hilt, pushing his way to the depths of your throat roughly. Your nose is pressed up against his pelvis, and your cheeks are catching stray tears. But this is consistent as he begins thrusting, using you per your request. He grunts out each time his tip hits the back of your throat, thrusting so roughly and meanly into you. Again, you feel like all you can do is choke and gag, spilling slobber and precum mix back down his length. It’s fucking filthy and the loud squelching and impact noises hit your ears nastily, yet you can’t help but squirm and attempt to grind for friction to subdue the need throbbing in your clit.

Above you, the man is falling apart. His hips stutter every now and then and his voice is fucking endless. His long hair sticks to his sweaty forehead and sides of his neck, and it looks damn near intentionally placed from how beautiful he looks. The outdoor lights are like distant illuminators; glowing behind him softly—almost angelically. His eyebrows are knitted together and he struggles to keep his eyes every time he reaches the back of your throat and you start gagging. It’s beyond pleasurable. Blade isn't sure if it’s because of all the tension the two of you have built up, or if it's because he hasn't had any action in the last 3 weeks because of his neverending schedule, or if it’s because your mouth is fucking amazing, but he can't keep himself together. His chest starts heaving faster as he comes close to his high, his knees beginning to buckle, and his stomach caving.

You flick your tongue on the underside of his cock as much as you can and glue your eyes to his, seeing his release breaking him down inch by inch. “Fuck! I'm gonna fucking cum!” He announces, throwing his head back.

He stills in your mouth and you take the opportunity to suck harshly on his tip, swirling your tongue around it like it’s the sweetest lolly you’ve ever tasted. He pulls out of your mouth, and you vigorously stroke his cock, so focused and determined to milk him dry. He leans forward, slapping his palm against the wall behind you for stability as he cums. He moans so prettily as he paints your face, the warm ropes making you hum contently. You give him no break, sucking his tip one last time to make sure you get the most out of what he’s given you.

Blade catches his breath, standing up straight soon after and condescendingly cooing at the mess made on your face. He picks up a glob as he sweeps his thumb over your cheek, sliding the digit in your mouth. He presses on your tongue, finding pleasure in how you swallow your sounds under a layer of gagging, but how you never tear your eyes off of him. He does this until you’ve cleaned off your face—but he's not done with you.

You're finally allowed off of your aching knees. You're sure the gravel will leave an indent from how long you were down there. He pinches your pebbled nipples, smirking as you yelp. “What was it that was next? Making you beg..making you earn my cock in you?” you nod rapidly, backing into the wall for stability as he toys with your very sensitive tits. “Show me how you beg then.”

You put your hands on his shoulders to help you stand up, feeling so weak all of a sudden. Your voice cracks as you try to speak, meek little whimpers flowing out as he works your body expertly—like he knows what gets you going. “Please…fuck–Please fuck me, I need you so bad…!”

A shrill yelp is chased out of your throat when his palm cracks against one of your boobs, “Is that all you got? Try again.”

So you do. “Need you to fuck me, Blade. I wanna be used by you, broken–please, I'll do anything!”

“Not good enough. Again.”

“Please fuck me like the slut I am! I need to be full of you, need to have you fuck me ragged and dumb so all I think of is you!” you pitch up your voice, breathing it all out in one breath.

Pitiful. Another smack. “Again.”

“I'm so needy for you, please! It hurts–I need you so much, it hurts! Please…”

And he's heard enough. His right hand slides up to your neck, forcing you against the wall. His grip is tight, fingers pressing into the sides and you have to fight for your eyes to not roll to the back of your head. “You must not want me as bad as you acted like you did…”

“I do! I do!” You interject, but your voice is weak and small—nothing in comparison to his deep and lust-saturated tone. “Then act like you do. Beg.”

He runs his other hand up your thigh, cupping your cunt. Your panties are soaked, and he can feel the heat radiating off of you. He pushes the fabric to the side, running two fingers through your folds and you swear you almost fell out then and there. You'd gone teased and untouched all night—you were beyond ready.

“Pussy is fucking soaked…” he mumbles, letting his index and middle finger twirl through your folds, getting closer and closer to your clit. “You want me here? To fuck your sloppy pussy until you're cumming your brains out?”

Your eyes start to roll and he can feel the pulse intensify in your cunt. That's exactly what you wanted. “Say it. Say ‘I want my sloppy pussy fucked until I'm cumming my brains out, Blade’. Say it,”

You part your lips, and he slightly loosens the grip on your throat, “Wan–want…I want my sloppy pussy…” You get shy with your words, and he delivers a slap to your clit. The stimulation has you buckling over. You feel like his hands on you are going to be the death of you. “Say it.”

With the courage finally built up, “I want my sloppy pussy fucked until I'm cumming my brains out, Blade! Please, I need it s’bad…feel like I'm gonna fucking die!” leaves your lips easily like spreading butter on toast. His lips that you never got enough of tasting quirk up into his signature smirk. He lets you go, pushing you against the wooden crates and flipping up your jean skirt.

“There you go; atta-fucking-girl.” he practically rips your panties off of you, slapping your pussy just for the hell of it. He cringes at the sound it makes and laughs cruelly at your whimpering. He presses up against you, his semi-hard dick pressed against your ass, and he wraps his arm around you and shows you the coat of your arousal that paints his fingers. “Spit.”

With your spit and abundance of slick collected on his fingers, Blade strokes his cock, going until he’s near painfully hard. The sounds he elicits make your pussy clench around nothing, needing to be satiated so desperately. “Are you ready? There’s no going back.”

This is somehow the sweetest moment for you. Your heart swells and you can only sheepishly nod, wiggling your hips eagerly. “Never been more sure about anything in my life. Ruin me.”

Ask once more, and you shall receive once more. His cock is swiped through your folds and collects a considerable amount of your arousal. He lines up at your entrance, watching you brace yourself with a smile ingrained into his face. He pushes in with a sharp inhale, biting his tongue at the feel of your tightness. Your pussy sucks him right in and—fuck. Warm and soft and tight, he could cum right now.

Your face crinkles up and you grip tightly onto the wooden crates in front of you. You’ve dreamt of this for so long—touched yourself at night to the thought and it's finally happening. He's inside of you, stretching you out, sinking in and in and in, inch by inch until he buries himself deep in your guts, until his tight and heavy balls are touching your folds. You're so sensitive you feel like you're ready to cream already, and you need it, need him, and need more. You grind your hips back on him, exhaling thickly as you rest your head against your forearm. “So fucking ready for me…”

His hand cracks down on your ass. It hurts so well and you wince, arching your back further. He sighs, kneading your skin softly. Then he pulls out, inching out until only the tip sits idly in you. You turn around to look at him, and doing that ignites his fire.

Your face is pathetic and fucked out already. Eyebrows knitted together and your eyes heavy, hardly staying open. Your lips are parted yet folded into a small frown, and perspiration rests at your hairline. You egg him on to slam into you, and he watches your frown drop into a wide ‘o’ shape, your eyes fluttering. So he does it again. And your lip now slips between your teeth. And again. And you drop your head back onto your arms.

And so Blade keeps up this pace, gradually going faster as the pit in his stomach urges him to do so. Your sounds are now uncontrollable—they fly out of you like a skipping record, incoherent babbles, and sinful moans. Each collision of your bodies elicits a visceral, wet slap that echoes off the walls of the alleyway. People around the world could probably hear what you're doing, and you're not sure if that bothers you…if the thought of a curious passerby walking down this alley naïvely would be an issue. If anything, it makes you get louder, your throat not getting to rest.

He hits you again, groaning when your pussy clenches around him. “You’re so fucking loud– you want somebody to find us?” Yes, that is what you want to say. But you moan out louder, shaking your head no. He hits you again. “Don’t lie to me,”

“You’re a fucking painslut,” he spits at you. He wraps his arm to reach your clit, immediately finding the bud and pinching it. Your knees go weak and he stabilizes you against him by pushing you further into the crates in front of you. You sniffle and whimper, presumably spilling tears down your filthy fucking face but doing nothing but asking for more. You've gotten so wet, dripping everywhere messily and Blade only cringes his face up with each wet collision. You're so nasty, so filthy, letting a stranger who you parasocial bonded yourself to defile you in public. He's feeding into your crazed delusions, but he’d honestly rather be doing nothing else. When he pinches your clit again your body shakes. Your knees buckle again and from the waist up you're basically limp. He feels you tighten around him and he sucks his teeth, parting your ass to peer at the milky ring forming around the base of his cock. “Did you just fucking cum?” Yes, you did. And you felt like Heaven doing it.

“You came ‘cause I pinched your clit…” he does it again and you jolt up, whining for him to stop. “So if I slap it…” he slaps it, eyeing you for your reaction. “Or rub on it like I love you…” his fingers run circles on your bud, feeling you get impossibly tighter around him. “So fucking easy.”

He resumes his thrusts like he never stopped—slamming into you unapologetically and now additionally, rubbing on your cute, abused clit. He's not going to last long at this rate. Your pussy gushes around him like a running river and the noises have gotten even nastier. Squelching and the occasional puffs of air escaping…you’re a mess.

“Love this fucking cunt,” he praises while pinching your clit. His free hand that rested on the small of your back is now holding onto your neck, forcing you to stand upright against him. Blade is lean but muscular. His arms flex and you feel his abs every time your bodies get close enough. His strong thighs touch yours and it's like you feel his entire body weight every time he pushes into you. “So good, ‘s so fucking good, Blade!”

The man laughs at your outburst. He angles his hips differently, trying so hard to find your sweet spot to get you creaming again. “Yeah?” he asks, tightening his grip on your throat. “Mhm-!” you concur.

“Where?” He’s sure he's found it, and he drives his hips up, groaning happily once he feels your gummy walls contract around him. “Here?”

Your head nods rapidly. “Yes, yes, yes–fuck! Right there, oh my fucking God!”

Neither of you are going to last. Blade’s balls are so tight and the way your pussy hugs him is even tighter. You suck him in like you never want him to leave, but your over-stimulated squeals and shaking thighs suggest otherwise. He’s found your sweet spot and is recklessly abusing it, going all or nothing. The way he toyed with your clit like a kitten pawing at a toy was too much—it started to hurt, to throb endlessly as your stomach knotted and your hole drooled. His grip on your neck was the icing on the cake. You felt like you could no longer breathe — like his thrusts were knocking the wind out of you and him choking you was keeping it out. Every little thing he did pushed you closer and closer to the edge.

He was even more merciless than before. Blade fucked into you harder, rougher, and faster than before, and you chalked that up to his orgasm catching up to him. You listen to his songs on repeat all the time but never have you heard him sing more beautifully than now as he digs your pussy out. You were really blessed with this night, and now it is coming to a very eventful end.

“‘M gonna fucking cum–!” You announce, and Blade nods his head in agreement. He slaps your cunt one last time, his fingers covered in your juices now tweaking at one of your nipples. “Me…me too, fuck.”

He leans into your ear, “Make me cum in this fucking pussy,” a throaty moan breaks his sentence, and you moan back, feeling it coming. “So close, so close…!”

It's this contraction that has Blade falling apart. He thrusts into you one last time, his eyes shooting wide open as he cums deep in you. He moans gutturally and shakily, feeling you clench tighter as you orgasm as well. His hips stutter in you and your hips ride back onto him as you both come down from your highs. The alley is now deafeningly silent and you flush in embarrassment from how loud you must have been. He lets your neck and tit go, using one hand to now spread your ass and pull out his cock. Your pussy is puffy and shiny, and when he’s out, he watches with a burning gaze as your mixture of cum starts to slightly spill out.

He groans, slapping your ass one last time. You two finally separate, and you turn around to look at him. You're sure he doesn't look as fucked up as you do, but even so disheveled and fucked out and sweaty as he is, you can’t help but feel your heart flutter. He pulls up his boxers and pants, fixing his shirt before he looks over at your mostly naked frame. He comes over to you, pulling down your skirt, and his doing this makes you feel less like a one-night stand, and more like one of his girls.

Being so close to you, he breathes you in. You smell like sex, but beneath that is a layer of whatever fruity perfume you sprayed on you, and it's delectable; so he kisses you. It's something he doesn't usually do, and he wouldn't have done it for you, but you entrance him. Perhaps it's because you're what he likes— he's met his match.

But you kiss each other passionately like you were trying to reignite the flame you just spent God knows how long fucking out. Your tongues are well acquainted with one another, swirling and bumping and riding past one another knowingly. He pulls away from you, looking in your eyes as he lets spit fall onto your tongue once again. You smile happily as you swallow it—God, you could do this forever. “Come back with me,”

You didn't expect him to say that. You blink your eyes a few times in disbelief. This night can't be any more unreal. He notices your confusion and smiles, “Is that a no–”

“–No! I'll come with you!” you don't know where he’s taking you, or what it means to go with him. You do know that you’ll have a lot to tell Yukong, NDA or not, and that you’ll never forget this day.

Smiling again, this time devilishly, Blade pulls away from you, pinching your cheek. “Good girl.”