#stop acting entitled over him

[redwinedulac]

some jonny “fans” on twitter are so fucking weird like first you set him up to get his looks attacked by antis with viral tweets saying his makeup and hair was shite as fiyero and how the hair & makeup team who worked HARD deserve to lose at the oscars bcos of it and now you’re saying he doesn’t deserve his SUPPORTING ACTOR NOM bcos he was only in it for 10 mins??? (hello wtf do you think supporting means?????)

you’re also ignoring the fact dtl was literally dangerous as hell and couldve chopped his head off like am i in a black mirror episode?? wtf is going on? how can you not recognize how big it is that an open gay actor is receiving recognition from his peers on this level?

i understand we shouldn’t be served scraps as queer people but this industry is reliant on reputation and jonny is building a rep so good not even the gatekeepers can ignore him. him being snubbed last year for ft has nothing to do with this bcos ofc he was snubbed. ft was a love letter to the queer community the straights weren’t going to care about it and he didn’t go into it wanting awards he was just so happy it existed and so fucking grateful he was even nominated at all and fucking WON the cca like please get perspective. so many of you move with ungratefulness when you shouldn’t be sweating the small things but manifesting for better. if he wins the sag that means he has a good chance for an oscar nom which is HUGE considering how “new” he is to hollywood.

[catgirltoes]

Men will kick you out of your apartment and then get mad at you because you took your bed with you.

[the-one-and-only-valkyrie]

The OBX fandom on Twitter is literally so annoying and toxic and I need to just delete Twitter honestly

[secondjulia]

"I’m very concerned about my client’s right to a fair trial in this case.  He’s being prejudiced by some statements that are being made by government officials. Like every other defendant, he’s entitled to a presumption of innocence. But unfortunately the way this has been handled so far his rights are being violated. And as you know, Your Honor, there’s a wealth of case law guaranteeing his rights to a fair trial, but none of the safeguards have been put in place yet here — in fact it’s just the opposite of what’s been happening. 

He’s a young man, and he is being treated like a human pingpong ball between two warring jurisdictions here.

These federal and state prosecutors are coordinating with one another at the expense of him. They have conflicting theories in their indictment, and they are literally treating him like he is some sort of political fodder, like some sort of spectacle. 

He was on display for everyone to see in the biggest staged perp walk I’ve ever seen in my career. It was absolutely unnecessary. He’s been cooperative with law enforcement. He’d been in custody for over a week. He waived extradition. He was cooperative at all accounts. There was no reason for the NYPD and everybody to have these big assault rifles — that frankly I had no idea it was in their arsenal — and to have all the press there the media there. It was perfectly choreographed. 

And what was the New York City Mayor doing at this press conference, Your Honor? That just made it utterly political. And as your honor knows under Loro v. Charles, the Court of Appeals for the 2nd Circuit has held it to be clearly established that these staged perp walks to the media unrelated to a legitimate law enforcement objective is unconstitutional. And I submit that there was zero law enforcement objective to do that sort of perp walk. There’s absolutely no need for that whatsoever. 

And frankly, Your Honor, the mayor should know more than anyone about the presumption of innocence that he, too, is afforded dealing with his own issues. And, frankly, I submit that he was just trying to detract from those issues by making a spectacle of Mr. Mangione. 

And there are consequences to this. 

He has a right to a fair trial. And I just want to put on the record statements that the mayor made publicly about my client. Nothing saying “alleged” for example. And he said “I wanted to send a strong message with the police commissioner that we’re leading from the front. I’m not just going to allow him to come into our city. I wanted to look him in the eye and state ‘You carried out this terrorist act in my city, the city of New York that I love.’” And he wanted to show symbolism. 

Your Honor, he’s not a symbol. He’s somebody who is afforded the right to a fair trial. He’s innocent until proven guilty. And the mayor was talking to jurors — future potential jurors that elected him. Those are the people that elected him that he is talking to and calling this man a terrorist.

So, Your Honor, I just want to make a record of this and put everyone on notice that this has to stop, and my client is entitled to a fair trial and the presumption of innocence."

From the CNN stream (weird video)

[itneverendshere]

we say we’re different but we got the same eyes - r.c

pairing: bitchy!pogue!reader x rafe

you needed to stop taking other people shift’s. 

it’s not like you wanted to, but at least they were paying you to do so, enough to let you actually chill this summer without stressing about rent or whatever else adulthood decided to throw at you.

all you had to do was show up and do the job. first at lila’s dinner, now at the bougie country club, as a cart girl.

you’d done this before, and sure, the old men were always a little too handsy with their beer guts hanging over their tacky polos, but at least they tipped well. you could tolerate them. smile, giggle at their half-assed jokes, and let them feel like they still had it. 

fine. pay me for my pain, grandpa. 

today however, instead of your usual sugar-daddy wannabes, you were babysitting frat boys. fresh out of their first year of college, probably still hungover from their last keg stand.

nineteen-year-old idiots in pastel shorts and backwards hats, making everything about themselves.

“bro, you remember that party at kappa? dude, swear i blacked out after like, five shots.”

wow, five whole shots? congrats, you absolute child. should i get you a sticker for that?

don’t even get started on their conversations about girls. one of them, chad or brad or whatever his stupid name was, just had to loudly detail how some poor innocent girl “totally wanted him last night but was playing hard to get.”

yeah, bro, she was probably just trying to get through the night without having to mace your entitled ass.

it was constant. the whole damn morning. all they talked about was frat parties, girls they didn’t deserve, and how they "couldn’t wait to get back to school."

you'd give anything to remind them how utterly irrelevant their frat status was in the real world, but you couldn’t. nope. you had to keep your game face on, pour their drinks, and pretend like they weren’t giving you a headache that rivaled your worst hangovers.

at least the elderly snobs tipped well. sure, they were pretentious and acted like you were beneath them, but they'd slip you a twenty or more with a smug little wink. that made it easier to tolerate their "i’ve been golfing here since before you were born" bullshit.

but these brats?

half the time they forgot to tip at all, and when they did remember, it was a crumpled five like they were doing you some grand favor. and of course, of course, they couldn’t just keep their obnoxious, beer-breath comments to themselves. no, they had to make it worse by hitting on you—hard. 

painfully hard. it was like watching a car crash in slow motion, except instead of pulling over to help, you were stuck right in the middle, praying someone would just tow your ass out.

“yo, what’s your name again?” one of them asks. bryce, probably. his face just screams bryce.

he's leaning against the cart like he thinks it's going to make him look cool, but really, he’s just sloshing his drink all over the place. classy.

“it’s on my name tag,” you deadpan, pointing to the little badge pinned to your polo. you're not about to give him any more than that.

but he's not letting it go. “oh yeah? cute name for a cute girl. you single or what?”

jesus christ. here we go.

you resist the urge to roll your eyes so hard they’d get stuck in the back of your head. 

“’m here to work,” you sigh, voice sweet enough to mask the absolute disdain you're feeling. you know what comes next.

they always think they can charm you if they just keep going, like you are some kind of challenge.

“c’mon, don’t be like that,” another one chimes in, this one wearing sunglasses even though it's barely 9 a.m.

who do you think you are, pitbull? 

he gives you this sleazy grin like he thinks he's smoother than he actually is. “we could take you out after your shift. grab a drink. bet you’re fun, huh?”

fun? FUN?! if by fun he means fantasizing about driving this cart straight into the water hazard just to escape this conversation, then sure, you're a real blast.

you look around the course, hoping maybe one of the older golfers needs a refill or something—anything to get you away from this nightmare. no luck. it's just you and these clowns.

“i don’t date customers,” you say, a line you’d perfected at this point.

you plaster on your fakest smile, the kind that said please tip me and then leave me the hell alone. but bryce wasn’t giving up.

“you’re really gonna turn us down? i mean, we’re the best thing on this course right now.”

best thing?

the only thing they're the best at seems to be embarrassing themselves. this is the type of guy who probably thinks buying a girl a drink meant she owns him something.

you can't even be mad; it's almost... sad. almost.

“maybe you should focus on your game,” you suggest, glancing at his scorecard. “you’re, what, ten over par already?”

that shuts him up real quick, his face going from cocky to confused like he didn't expect you to know how golf worked.

his friend with the sunglasses? he's still trying.

“we can show you a good time, y’know. we’ve got a house down on the beach. you like boats?”

ah, yes. the boat move. the go-to for guys who think a half-assed yacht and a cooler full of cheap beer is the height of luxury.

you’d seen it a million times in this godforsaken town.

you're not impressed.

you shoot them another smile, “i like tips.”

they all blink confusedly, clearly not used to a girl calling them out so directly. the frat boys mumble something between themselves, looking awkward for the first time all day.

finally, one of them fishes a crumpled twenty out of his pocket and tosses it your way. 

oh, wow, big spender. 

you scoop it up, shoving it into your pocket and giving them a little nod. “thanks, boys. good luck with your game.”

you thought the twenty bucks might’ve bought you a few minutes of peace, but no. they're back at it, swinging at golf balls like they aren't trying to flirt in between their awful shots.

you roll the cart over to the next part of the course, half-listening to their constant chatter.

something about “last semester” this, and “pledge party” that. god, they just never stop. it's like someone hit the repeat button on the world’s most annoying playlist.

one of them calls you over again, like he can't wait five minutes for his next drink. you start prepping them, half tuning them out, just trying to get through it, when suddenly, miraculously, they shut the hell up.

for a second, you think maybe the universe is finally doing you a favor. you don't even question it, just start pouring drinks faster.

a quiet frat boy is a gift. but then you hear it:

“dude!” one of them practically tackles the other, all wide-eyed and hyped up like a little kid who just saw his favorite cartoon character. “is that rafe fucking cameron?!”

oh, for fuck’s sake.

your stomach drops. of course it has to be him. because clearly, your morning isn't being shitty enough. you don't even look at first. 

one of the guys starts flipping out, hitting his buddy’s shoulder like it's the coolest thing to ever happen.

“bro, no way. no way. that’s rafe cameron? he used to be the president of our frat, man. two years ago! he’s a fucking legend!”

legend? you almost laugh.

the only legend rafe is to you it's a legendary asshole. a smug, infuriating, gorgeous asshole who you have been avoiding like the plague. the same one who has been blowing up your phone nonstop, trying to get back into your life.

the same one you swore down you’d never sleep with again after he pulled that stunt at the dinner—and then, of course, ended up in his bed two nights ago. you haven't spoken to him since. you’d been ignoring him again—well, trying to—but now here he is. in the flesh. and these idiots are drooling over him like he's some kind of frat god.

you turn your head, and he's striding across the green like he doesn't have a care in the world. of course he looks good. he always does.

wayfarer’s pushed up in his hair, that cocky-ass grin on his face, wearing a polo like he's the face of a country club catalog. you know he’d see you any second. hell, he probably already has. 

yeah, you’d been avoiding him, and yeah, maybe you’d blocked his number twice, but that didn’t stop him from calling with a different one. or from somehow finding you the other night at the party when you were weak enough to let him back in, only to get burned again.

“holy shit, he’s coming this way,” one of the frat boys mutters, shaking with excitement.

you don't move, don't acknowledge him. but you can feel his eyes on you. it's like a sixth sense at this point. you'd crave it so much before, when it was all a silly game in your head, see how much you could push until he cracked and gave into you. now it's a curse.

the boys are watching him approach like he's some kind of celebrity.

“should we say something to him?” one whispers. “i heard he’s like, killing it in the business world now. family’s loaded.”

yeah, you think bitterly. killing it. if you count being a trust fund brat as an accomplishment.

rafe's closer now, and you know this moment is inevitable. the frat boys are giddy, already nudging each other, probably ready to beg him for networking advice or whatever the hell frat bros did.

you keep your eyes down, focusing on pouring the drinks, acting like you don't even notice him. like he doesn't phase you in the slightest.

“hey,” a familiar voice drawls. you don't have to lift your head to know it's him. naturally, he stops right by you. because why wouldn’t he?

“rafe fucking cameron!” one of the guys yells, unable to keep it together anymore. “you’re like a legend, man. kappa forever!”

you never cringed so hard in your life.

rafe smirks, that signature look spreading across his face. “yeah, somethin' like that.”

you clench your jaw, forcing yourself to keep your face neutral. no way in hell are you about to give him the satisfaction of knowing how much he still gets to you. 

everyone else around you are tripping over their words just to get his attention. it's embarrassing to watch. the kids acting like he's some kind of messiah, not just some white rich guy with a trust fund and a bad attitude half the time.

“man, the outer banks is fucking sick,” one of them says, bouncing on his feet like an overexcited puppy. “we’ve been hitting the beaches, bars, y’know, living it up. and bro, the girls here? smoking hot.”

here we go. 

you pretend to be very invested in the cooler, rearranging the ice just to keep your hands busy. they're about to start pointing at you any second now; you can sense it.

the way they keep looking over at you made it obvious they're gearing up for something.

and then, like clockwork, it happens.

“yeah, man,” one of them gestures way too enthusiastically in your direction. “that cart girl over there? we’ve been trying all morning.”

oh, fuck right off, you resist the urge to throw a bottle at him.

you’d rather die than hear what lame pickup line is coming next, but what you really don't want to hear is whatever rafe's about to say.

there was a pause, as if he's taking a second to let it sink in. and when he finally does speak, his voice is all smooth confidence, casual as anything.

“so,” he starts, still with smirk you hate and know so well, “you’ve met my girl?”

my girl? my fucking girl?

one of them, manages to stammer, “uh—wait, she’s… she’s your girl?”

you can feel the tension creeping up the back of your neck. this's exactly why you’ve been avoiding him.

no matter what happened between you, no matter how messy things got, he always acted like he owned you in private. never in front of his friends, like just because you ended up in his bed, you were his to claim whenever he felt like it.

still keeping your eyes glued to the drinks, you feel your blood boil. you aren't his fucking girl. you're barely on speaking terms, aside from that one weak moment.

he's only saying it to mess with you.

one of the frat boys lets out a low whistle, clearly impressed. “damn, man. didn’t know you were still pulling like that.” he shoots a glance at you again, not even bothering to hide the once-over.

rafe just chuckles, that low, infuriating laugh of his, like he knows exactly how to get under your skin. “what can i say?” he drawls, as if the whole thing is just a game to him. “guess i’ve still got it.”

you're this close—this close—to snapping. you can feel your fists clenching at your sides. you're not giving him the satisfaction of a reaction. not here. not in front of these frat boys who're still looking at you like some kind of trophy.

rafe’s voice is closer now. you don't have to look up to know he's standing right by the cart.

“you good over there?” he asks, that fake casual tone still lingering.

you don't answer. just kept doing your job, biting the inside of your cheek so hard it hurts. but he isn't going to let it go. he never did when he wanted to prove a point.

“hey, baby.” he greets you again, leaning in slightly. you can feel his eyes burning into the side of your face. “you gonna pretend you don’t know me now?”

you take a deep breath, finally turning to face him. he's standing way too close, sunglasses pushed up on his head, that stupid expression plastered across his face.

the frat boys are all watching, wide-eyed, like they just stumbled onto some kind of reality show drama.

“you’re funny, cameron.” the guys all exchange glances, clearly picking up on the tension but too dumb to understand it, “can you guys give us a minute?”

one of them pipes up with an awkward laugh, “wait, but we—”

you don't let him finish. “one. minute.” 

they finally catch on that it isn't a request and before they can awkwardly protest or ask why, rafe tilts his head towards them, craning his neck just enough to raise a single brow. the change in his posture is subtle but enough to have them clamming up instantly.

like magic, their frat-boy bravado melts right off. it's wild how fast a bunch of college boys can shrink under the gaze of someone like him.

the power trip they’ve been riding for the last hour stop.

“uh, yeah, you know what?” one of them coughs out, backing up so fast he almost trips over his golf bag. “we should, uh… we’ll hit the bathroom. real quick.”

“yeah, yeah, we’ll be right back,” another one adds, practically stumbling over himself to follow.

they scatter like scared puppies, tails tucked between their legs, and you can't help the small, satisfied smirk that twitches at the corner of your mouth.

finally, a moment of peace.

except, it's not peace. not with rafe standing there. 

as soon as the frat boys are out of earshot, you spin around, without thinking, you shove him in the chest with both hands, hard enough to catch him off guard. he stumbles back a step, his face twisting into a look of surprise.

"are you fucking crazy?" you snap, "do you not get the fucking hint, country club? i don’t want this. i don’t want you here, and i sure as hell don’t want your bullshit claims that ’m your girl in front of those idiots. leave. me. alone.”

he steadies himself, raising both hands as if trying to calm you down. “’m trying to be better, okay? ’m trying. i apologized the other night, didn’t i? ’m—”

“no, you didn’t!” you look at him like he's the dumbest man on earth, cutting him off, your hands balled into fists at your sides. “you didn’t apologize! you said i was overreacting, that i was being ‘dramatic.’ then, you fucked me and acted like that made it all better.”

his jaw tightens, and he takes a deep breath as he glances around the mostly empty golf course before his eyes move back to you, his voice low but firm. "that’s not how i meant it—"

“you always have an excuse,” you interrupt, stepping closer, not backing down. “every time, it’s the same thing. you think a half-assed apology or a night in bed makes up for the way you treat me in public? like ‘m just some thing you get to claim whenever you feel like it?"

he visibly recoils at the word you chose, like it hurts him, “i know,” he finally mutters “i know i was a dick at that dinner. but ’m trying, okay? i’ve been calling you, texting you—”

“i didn’t ask. am i that good in bed? go find someone else.”

rafe’s hand flies up to pinch the bridge of his nose, a frustrated sigh escaping him. he draggs his tongue against his cheek. his voice coming out clipped, “i don’t want someone else,” he grunts out, sounding more exasperated than ever. “jesus fucking christ.”

you let out a laugh, stepping back, eyes rolling.

“oh, right. that’s it? ’m really that good in bed, huh? that’s why you’re here?” you cross your arms, your tone biting, daring him to say otherwise. “that’s all this has ever been, right? physical. you don’t call unless you want something. so what now? why are you trying so hard? what the hell are you trying for?”

he doesn't respond right away, his fingers are digging into the bridge of his nose like he's trying to hold himself together. the silence continues, and you can see him wrestling with his words. he's never been the type to say what he was feeling.

everything is buried under layers of cocky bravado, that impenetrable wall he put up to keep everyone at arm’s length. including you.

finally, he dropps his hand and takes a step closer, his voice coming out rough like he's forcing the words out. “’m here because i don’t want someone else. i want you, alright? can you just get that through your fucking head?”

you scoff, “because i know you and won’t get attached?”

he snaps, raising his voice, “no! fuck, it’s not that simple.”

"not that simple?" your hands are shaking, and you accidentally knock over one of the bottles you’d been holding before, sending it tumbling to the ground. you don't bother picking it up.

“it’s pretty fucking simple. we’re just fucking. so, tell me, what exactly is complicated about that? you call, i come over, we have sex, and that’s it. so why the fuck do you start ignoring me in public like ’m some kind of fucking disease?”

rafe opens his mouth, but you don't spare him the chance to speak, you're on a roll, months of pent-up frustration. 

“i don’t give a fuck if you’re with someone else, rafe!” you can hear the bitterness dripping from every word. you're practically spitting them out, “what pisses me off is that you had the audacity—the fucking nerve—to ask me to stay that night. do you know how fucking stupid i felt? how the fuck do you think i felt when you acted like i didn’t exist the next day?”

you can feel your hands trembling again, the adrenaline making you shaky, cursing under your breath.

“for once, i was nice enough to care about you, to stay, and that’s the shit you pulled. treated me like a ghost. like i was nothing.”

he just stands there, staring at you, his jaw tight, but he doesn't say a word. his face is hard to read, but you don't care about his feelings. you're not done yet.

“i was fine with the sex. i was fine with leaving afterwards and then you had to go and fuck it all over.”

rafe’s blue eyes flash, and you can see the realization hit him, like he's connecting the dots too fast for your liking.

his brows furrow as he breathes out, “wait. you’re mad at me because i made you—” he hesitates, like the word is foreign in his mouth, “care for me?”

you let out a harsh, bitter laugh. “oh, for fuck's sake, country club. don't flatter yourself.”

“you always do that shit,” he points out, stepping closer “you never call me by my name when we’re having a serious conversation. it's almost like you’re running away.”

you arch an eyebrow, incredulous. “are you delusional? you’re the one acting like a child.”

“’m not being delusional. you only say my name in my room when it’s just the two of us.” he leans in slightly, lowering his voice as if he's trying to keep this moment between you, his blue eyes lock onto yours making your stomach twist. “’m clearly not the only one who’s pretending here; you’re just as bad.”

you feel the heat rush to your cheeks as you walk back, trying to create space, but he closes the distance with easy confidence.

“pretending? please. ‘m not the one playing house in my bedroom while acting like i don’t know you outside of it.”

rafe lets out a low, frustrated groan, running his hand through his hair like he's close to losing it. 

“god, you’re fucking infuriating,” he mutters, voice gruff, “you think i don’t fucking feel it too? you’re the only one pissed off, the only one confused?” his voice dipps lower in frustration. “i can’t stop thinking about you, no matter how hard i try. "

“oh, boo-fucking-hoo,” you mocked back, “must be so hard, huh? being obsessed with a girl you can’t even respect in public.”

his hand reaches out to grab your wrist. you gasp, not out of fear but because the heat of his touch awakes the resting butterflies in your stomach. you hate how much your skin reacts to him, how just the feel of his grip makes your brain go foggy and shut down.

“i do respect you,” he growls, as if you just insulted him, “i just—fuck.” his eyes dart between yours, as if searching for something. then, like clockwork, he points at your work uniform—the stupid polo and that absurdly short skirt that's practically a sin in itself.

“this,” he grits out, fingers gesturing to the tight polo that does absolutely nothing but make your boobs look way too inviting, “is not okay.”

you blink, pretending to be unaffected, but his words have a way of crawling under your skin.

“oh, right,” you nod sarcastically, even though your pulse has kicked up a notch. “blame my uniform, like that’s the reason you can’t keep your hands to yourself.”

rafe groans like you're causing him actual physical pain, his hands gripping the edge of the golf cart now, knuckles turning white.

“shit, yeah, i’ll blame the uniform,” he says, eyes blazing as he corners you. “that tiny-ass skirt, walking around in front of me all day, making me lose my goddamn mind.”

just like that, his hand slide right under your mini skirt, his fingers gripping a handful of your ass with a confidence that makes your breath hitch.

the sudden contact sends a rush of heat through you, and a soft gasp escapes your glossy lips.

that’s when he takes his chance.

with another low groan, rafe seizes the moment, pressing his body against yours, leaning down as he kisses you, his tongue sliding into your mouth, the kiss deepening in an instant.

it's not sweet—you can tell that now because you know that hidden part of him, you can tell the difference when it comes out. today he's desperate like he’s been waiting to it for days and can't take it anymore.

he's a starved man on a mission. it's a feverish mess of spit and teeth, his grip on you impossibly tight.

his hand still kneads your ass, blunt fingernails digging into your skin trying to keep you from bolting away. at the same time, his other hand slides up to your neck, firm but not enough to hurt, just enough to keep you locked in place—he's daring you to pull away, knowing full well you won't.

logic doesn't stand a chance against the way his lips move against yours, he's sucking all the fight from you.

his tongue slides against yours, and your stomach jumps at the sensation, making you gasp. you try to pull back for a second, needing air, needing space, but his grip on your neck tightens, holding you in place as his lips move against yours like he'll die if you stop.

and maybe he would. maybe he's just as messed up about all of this as you are.

rafe’s teeth scrape against your bottom lip, and right then and there, you know your panties are already ruined. you can't stop the small whimper that escapes your throat, and he moans at the sound, his hips pressing harder against yours, making you feel just how much he wants you.

“fuck,” he almost whines against your lips, like he's barely keeping himself from fucking you out there in the open, not giving a shit if anyone's watching. his hand on your neck glides around to the back of your head, tangling in your hair as he tuggs slightly, tilting your head back so he can kiss you even harder, his lips moving against yours in a way that makes it impossible to think straight. “you have no idea what you do to me.”

the truth is, you do. you know exactly what you do to him because he's doing the same thing to you.

but there's no way in hell you’ll admit that. not when he already has you completely under his spell, melting into his touch, drowning in the way he kisses you like he owns you.

you attempt to hold onto that edge of disdain you always throw his way when things get too personal. his breath is hot and ragged as he hovers.

his hand, still tangled in your hair, loosens slightly but stays there. it's so fucking unfair—the way he just sneaks under your skin, the way your body betrays you every time he gets close. you hate it.

especially with the way his fingers are already sliding up your bare thigh under that ridiculously skirt, as if he owns every single inch of you, like he has a goddamn right to touch you like that.

and instead of pushing him away like you should, you find yourself leaning into him. and fuck, the look in his eyes—all black, wild, like he it's his last shred of self-control—is enough to make your pulse skyrocket.

“asshole,” it comes out weak, pathetic and almost breathless, and you hate yourself for it.

“yeah,” he whispers back, lips brushing yours, his hand still in your hair, still holding you close. “but you like it.”

god, maybe you did.

the frat boys finally return, their laughter breaking the bubble that had you on a leash.

within seconds, you're pushing rafe’s hands away, stepping back as of them claps him on the back.

“we miss anything?”

“nah, just catchin’ up,” rafe said, brushing off the whole thing as if it's no big deal.

you, on the other hand, pick up one of the empty glasses, avoiding eye contact with any of them.

one of the guys chuckles. “man, you two… y’all good?”

no. not when there's the slightest of the slightest possibility that you're starting to feel something for him. not the stupid crush you had before, or the simple curiosity of figuring out how he was in bed. 

real, scary, big girl feelings. 

no way. not after everything. not after he pulled that same crap, acting like you didn’t know you in front of his friends, then turning around and getting all possessive when it suited him.

 “better than ever.”

eyes locked on rafe, you bite out the final blow.

“yeah, better than ever. just like every other fucking rich frat boy—using daddy’s money, pretending you’re a god. but deep down, you’re all the same. losers. why don’t you keep them company, huh? you’re all family after all.”

his blue eyes drop to the green field at the mention of his dad, but he keeps quiet despite realizing you’re doing this on purpose.

he’ll let you have this one because he knows it’s deserving. fuck he’d probably let you punch him in the face if you asked him to. 

you turn on your heel and walk away, leaving him behind, knowing you hit him exactly where it hurt.

[sugurouge]

— nobody but you : getō suguru x f!reader

contains! — mdni: semi public sex, pussy spanking, humiliation, teasing, jealousy, pet names (love, darling, dear, needy girl & pretty girl), heavy marking — 1.8k words

summary: a petty display of jealousy over none other than Manami spoils you with unforeseen rewards

Anytime you see them together, it's a drag, almost as if you stop existing as soon as she’s around. You usually don't feel this insecure, but whenever she is involved—her and her stupid adoration for your partner—a switch flicks in your mind. Suddenly, her advice seems anything but professional, suddenly her eyes linger too long on Geto as well. And their act in front of his followers just seems wrong to your eyes.

Unfortunately you can't do much more but be a silly bystander. Watching his greatness and adoration while you feel like a nobody. You would do a better job at advising him, you conclude out of spite, as your arms fold in front of your chest. Geto can practically see the irritation radiating off your body at this point, yet somehow he loves it when you get like that.

But in your eyes it’s not fair having to witness their chemistry from across the room while you seem like yet another random face in the crowd, forced to remember the feeling of his hand against your back from only a moment ago. Yet here he is, standing a little too close to her for his usual distant behaviour. Who could blame you for the crease on your forehead, for the slight pout on your lips and glaring stares in her direction while she remains as 'flirtatious' as always—almost as if she had expertise at ignoring you?

Once this farce is finally over, you turn on your heels and swiftly leave for your chambers. Your mood is clearly soured, and that stupidly annoying chuckle that bounces off the walls of the hall doesn't help much to relieve it. Suguru’s hand returns to claim its reserved spot on your lower back, nails lightly digging into the rich fabric of the dress he got for you as his lips ghost over the shell of your ear.

“A smile suits you better,” Suguru muses, before his fingertips grasp your chin and force you to look at him. But not right now. Right now, you refuse his advances. A decision that brings one of his brows to arch, a sly smirk to spread on his lips.

Allow him to join your little play.

He follows you once more, but this time he decides to walk in silence. Upon the agonising stillness, your irritation seems to overflow. Your eyes eventually find their way over to his body—suspiciously gliding upwards until they meet his awaiting ones. The scowl on your face returns in a heartbeat while you nearly abuse the inside of your cheek. The entitled hmpf utterly princess-like of you. Giving Geto attitude is something you don’t do often; you’re usually confident in your relationship and his unique adoration for you.

And after agonising moments shared in silence, you are forced to realise how little he appreciates your childish behaviour. In one swift move, you're tugged off the main halls and find yourself pushed inside a room, caged between an icy cold wall and Geto's large frame. He leaves you no choice but to look at him, the proximity of your faces guiding your eyes to meet his slightly irritated gaze. The silence between you feels almost tranquil as Suguru refuses to make any further move on you—he’s always been patient.

But some silly devil on your shoulder convinces you to keep up with this farce. Refusing to address the elephant in the room, you instead banish any space between your bodies as you lean forward, finding purchase on his neck in mere seconds while your fingers are quick to ruin his perfectly styled attire in moments.

By now, Suguru can guess what exactly is going on in your head, and he is the last one to reject his needy girl whenever you get like this. So he allows you to kiss him, as long as you let him explore your body in return; with his curious fingertips sneaking beneath your dress, tracing over your outer thigh and firmly squeezing the soft flesh.

“What are you so jealous for?” Geto suddenly murmurs into your ear. His breath tickles your skin and sends shivers down your spine, effortlessly halting your advances upon your hesitation. The meek shake of your head feels safer than actually using words to answer, and a soft exhale clings to his neck like the arms wrapping around his shoulders—it’s a sweet effort to drench him in your scent.

Suguru won’t even attempt to hide his amusement, letting a deep chuckle vibrate against your figure. The warmth he shares contrasts with the cool touch of his fingertips, their goal in reach as they leave a chilly trail until they finally run over your panties, giving you no other option but to obediently buck your hips against his touch. He ghosts his exploration along your covered pussy; the faint touches leave your body hyper-attentive to his every move.

“You know that if it weren’t for these monkeys, I’d fuck you right in front of her, don’t you?”

The confession feeds your twisted ego, it causes a short-lived smile to decorate your face while you innocently nod against his neck, your staggered breathing exhaling in pathetic pants as your hip rolls against his fingers—chasing every bit of friction he offers.

But Geto pulls back and forces you to look into his eyes. Refusing to further spoil his rotten fruit. “Repeat it for me so I know you understand.” The request makes you hesitate, your eyes suddenly avoid his stare under which you grow timid. If it weren't for the warning spank to your pussy, which convinces you that speaking up might just be the best option right now.

“I know...” you admit quietly, and know it won't be enough for him.

“Continue.” His fingers push your panties aside, teasing you, spreading your arousal. Heavens, you're wet. You can hear yourself, can feel his thick fingers prodding at your entrance. “I know you would...” two fingers slowly push in, but that menacing smirk won't falter from Geto's face. A satisfied hum encourages you to keep going.

“I know, you would fuck me in front of her.”

He chuckles.

Geto won't even hide the entertainment you offer upon your own humiliation. But he is so sweet as well, how could you ever get enough? “That wasn't so hard now, was it, dear?” You practically suck him in, needy for his stimulation after he teased you for so long. Yet, as soon as you feel his knuckles push against your pussy, you just as quickly are to miss his delicious stretch. But who are you to complain if the soft circles drawn on your clit have you moan—loudly, at that.

In return, Geto rests his free hand on your nape and pulls you in, forehead resting against yours while he shame holds eye contact. “Make sure to be loud, pretty girl. Don't hold back.”

Yet, you can't help but shy away from his watchful eyes. Your lips ghost along the column of his throat again, still refraining from actually leaving hickeys. You’re well aware of him not appreciating public attention. Despite that, he is still yours. You want her to know.

“You desperately want to mark me, right?” He chuckles and presses his fingers close against your aching puffy lips. “Want her to know that I only love your pussy, that I only need you. Isn’t that right, my love?”

Your eyes roll in their sockets; it’s almost scary how much Suguru has perfected the art of reading your mind. A whispered “yes” rings through his ears, almost as loud as if you screamed the confession at him. You loosen the fabrics around his neck, the tip of your nose grazing his throat while you obediently wait for him to allow your next moves. His sweet peck on the crown of your hair leaves you nearly humming in pure bliss, especially once his kisses trail along your temple and cheekbone, arriving at your ear to combine the warm feeling of his whispers with his touches.

“Go ahead then…”

Your lips attack his skin, sucking deep patches of pink and red anywhere you can reach to mark him as yours. Geto groans, attempting to bite back his own moans upon the feeling of your lips and the growing pressure of his cock.

You gasp the minute he lands a sharp smack against your pussy, tensing beneath his touch as your nails dig into his skin. Painting the once pale canvas of his arms with streaks of red.

He didn't expect you to spread your legs further, offering his hand more room between your thighs.

His broad frame circles around your build protectively as his mouth remains close to your ear, offering you comfort even during moments like these. “You like it when I slap your pussy?”

“Y-yes,” you shamefully admit, your body practically begging in anticipation for his next spank. He hums in response, wet fingers now only ghosting over your thighs and pausing right before your swollen lips. “Do you want more?”

You nod, praying it will be enough to convince him.

“What was that?” he teases. Upon your hesitation, Geto withdraws his hand entirely. The whine that follows is like music to his ears. He’s glad you can’t see him grin.

“Spank me,” you murmur in defeat.

“I think you can ask more nicely, can’t you?” Oh, he enjoys seeing you annoyed—it's utterly entertaining whenever you try to refuse him. But your attitude breaks as the moment drags on.

A defeated plea of “Please, spank me,” gifts Geto utmost pleasure. Nothing compares to turning you into his desperate girl, his needy darling.

“How could I ever resist you?” he complies. Another rewarding slap meets your wet pussy, which has your legs jerk close around his hand before his fingers plunge into you once again.

Your back arches in response, tits now pressing against his chest while the squelching noises heighten thanks to the perfect movements of his fingers. Once he places his thumb onto your clit, you sigh in utmost pleasure. “Don't stop, please,” you beg ever so cutely as you hold onto him like your life depends on it.

“As if I could control myself when I’m with you,” Suguru mumbles, fingers curling inside your tightening walls to run along each ripple, hitting your sweet spots with each thrust. “Just like that, go on…” Suguru praises when your walls tighten around his fingers. His thumb adjusts your chin to tilt sideways, for his own lips to find a home on your sensitive neck and relentlessly stain your skin.

The tip of his tongue licks along your throat, lips sucking on your flesh, teeth biting nipping until you wail and your legs tremble. The delicate undertones of pride laced between his words of encouragement finally push you towards your release. “Come for me, pretty girl, let Manami hear how pretty you cry for me.”

The demand leaves your mind blank, taking away any shame you clung onto to let you moan his name instead. Your legs trap his hand between your thighs as your hips press against the resistance, pulsing walls holding his digits inside and drenching him with your slick. And just like that, you turn into his pretty mess, moaning so awfully seductive for him.

divider by @/cafekitsune + @/strangergraphics

[thewickedjazzy]

Level 2: Senses [mirror sex] for Kinktober.

ᡣ𐭩soft dom! osamu dazai x afab! reader.

ᡣ𐭩Synopsis: an argument with dazai boils over, as he pushes you to your limits, proving with every touch that the café girl has nothing on you—or your trembling legs.

ᡣ𐭩Warnings: nsfw, 18+ mdni, smut with plot, soft dom! dazai, praise kink, mirror sex, power dynamics, mention of cum, rough sex, sweaty sex, slight bondage, aftercare...etc.

ᡣ𐭩Word count: 2.1k. animated dividers by @/toastray.

ᡣ𐭩-check Kink Coin to unlock bonus fics´-

“why do you let her hang all over you?” the words spill out before you can stop them, harsher than you intended. but you can't swallow them back. not when the frustration has been building for days.

you stand in the low-lit corner of dazai's bedroom, arms crossed tightly over your chest, staring him down. does he know? does he care? every time you see her at the café—fingers tracing the edge of his sleeve, her gaze shameless and sticky, like she’s entitled to every sliver of his attention—it sets something off inside you. something you hate to admit.

dazai stands a few paces away, his hands shoved into his pockets, staring at you like you’ve just accused him of something absurd. maybe you have. maybe you haven’t. “are you really this upset about her?” his voice is calm, too calm, and the restraint in his tone makes your stomach knot.

“shouldn’t i be?” you counter, feeling the heat rise to your face. your pulse pounds in your ears, “why do you let her act that way? why don’t you stop her?”

silence again. does he even have an answer? maybe he’s not bothered by it because it doesn’t mean anything to him. or maybe—maybe it means everything, and you’re the fool standing here, questioning him like it’s not eating you alive.

dazai tilts his head, his chocolate eyes studying you, and for a moment you wonder what’s going through his mind. is he amused? bored? does he think you’re being ridiculous? after all, neither of you has ever voiced your feelings for one another.

“and why does it bother you so much?” his voice lowers as he steps closer, the calmness giving way to exasperated disbelief. “do you really believe i’d choose her over you?”

his question stings. why is he turning this on you? isn't he the one who’s been too indifferent, too careless, always letting other women linger too close? you draw in a shaky breath, your heart tight in your chest. “you don’t push her away,” you say, voice wavering even though you try to steady it. “that’s why i think...” your words falter, caught in the knot of your throat. “It’s like... she has something i don’t. something you want.”

his laugh is soft, but it feels more like a sigh, like he’s disappointed you even think that. “what could she possibly have that you don’t?” he’s closer now, his fingers ghosting over your wrist, tugging you gently toward him. “no one else gets this close to me. not like you do.”

and there it is—proximity, his words, slipping through your defences like water through cracks in stone. you hate how easily he pulls you in, how effortlessly he makes your doubts feel small. but still, the question remains, the doubt stubborn.

“then why don’t you push her away?”

“because,” his grip tightens slightly, his thumb brushing across your pulse point. “you look so pretty when you're mad”

before you can respond, his hands move lower, tracing the outline of your waist slowly. he doesn’t smile, doesn’t smirk like you’d expect. instead, he leans in close, his breath ghosting over your ear as he speaks.

“you want me to prove it?” he murmurs, his lips brushing the sensitive skin of your neck, making your heartbeat quickens with every carefully chosen word. “you want me to show you why you never have to be jealous?”

you hate how easily he can always dissolve your anger with his touch, how your body betrays you, melting against his as he begins to undo the buttons of your shirt. the soft rustle of fabric is the only sound between you, each button undone pulling you further into the moment, despite the storm raging in your chest.

your shirt falls to the floor, leaving your bare breasts exposed to the cool air. his hands linger on your shoulders for a moment before sliding down your arms, his touch featherlight and you can’t help but shiver under his gaze, feeling his now dark chocolate eyes drink in every inch of you.

“look at me,” he says softly, though his tone is still soft enough to feel intimate. “god, look at how beautiful you are.”

he steps behind you now, guiding you toward the full-length mirror standing across from the bed, its antique frame intricately carved, reflecting both of you in the low amber light—his tall frame towering behind you, hands moving with a slow, possessive ease over your skin.

you swallow hard as his fingers trail over your bare shoulders, down the curve of your spine, before hooking into the waistband of your pants. his breath makes your skin tingle as he slowly pulls them down, leaving you completely exposed.

“do you think i’d touch her like this?”

why does this feel so good when you're still mad at him? the question echoes in your mind as you bite your lip, your eyes wandering to your reflection, seeking answers in your own gaze.

“you’ve always been mine,” he murmurs against your ear, his lips brushing the sensitive skin just below it. “no one else gets this close. no one else even gets a chance.”

his fingers trail down your arms, wrapping loosely around your wrists before letting go. you watch him through the mirror, your breath hitching as he pulls a strip of his familiar white bandages from his pocket.

you open your mouth to say something, but he’s already wrapping the bandage around your wrist, securing it with a tenderness that feels almost too intimate. his eyes meet yours in the reflection, his voice a soft hum. “this is what you don’t understand,” he whispers. “no woman in the world would ever get to see me like this. no one but you.”

he finishes wrapping one wrist and moves to the other, his touch is a soft, golden warmth, like the sun’s first rays after a cold night. “you’re the only one who gets to wear these,” he continues, his tone deeper now, more affectionate. “the only one who gets to see the parts of me that no one else does.”

once your wrists are bound, he slips them behind his neck, pulling you closer to him, your back pressed against his chest, the heat of his body seeping into yours. he holds you there, his fingers exploring the curves of your body, tracing the lines of your stomach, your breasts, teasingly moving lower and with a swift move, he slips off his pants and dress shirt, pressing his hard cock against your ass through his boxers.

“you feel that?” his voice is thick now, his lips brushing against the back of your neck. “that’s yours. i’m yours.”

you tilt your head back, gasping as his breath caresses your skin, mingling with the intoxicating scent of him. “mine?” you whisper, the word tasting unfamiliar yet invigorating on your tongue.

“every inch of me.” his fingers glide across your skin until it rests between your thighs, where you want him the most. you feel your breath catch in your throat, a jolt of ecstasy shooting straight to your core, fueling an overwhelming desire that wraps around your lower stomach.

his tongue teases your bottom lip while grinding his clothed, hard cock against your ass, lifting you slightly with one arm to press your back firmly against his chest, and he devours your mouth, hot soft tongue slipping in to tangle with yours, groaning deeply, utterly intoxicated by your taste.

“ ’sam—ahh-” your sentence got cut by his middle and ring finger dipping between your folds and leaving in an instant.

“fuh-kk” he hisses, “look at you so beautiful.” he tilts your gaze until it locks on the mirror. “never met anyone who’s as beautiful as you, look at your pretty face,” the brunet continues to rasp as his lips drag across your flesh, placing small kisses into the crook of your neck while pumping into your folds gently curling his long slender finger before pushing another one just to slightly brush them against your sweet spot, watching you with half-lidded lust drunk eyes in the mirror as you whimper in pleasure.

dazai groans, fumbling behind you as he hastily shoves down his boxers only to nudge his tip through your slick folds, fingers slip from your cunt to circle around slit to smudging both your juices with his precum, before he pushes deep inside you drawing a broken gasp from you in which he quickly silence pressing his slick-coated fingers between your pretty lips, knowing exactly what you're supposed to do. your tongue swirls around his digits, gladly tasting of both your arousals as you suck on his fingers, mind short-circuiting savouring your combined slick essence.

dazai keeps placing wet kisses along your neck and collarbone keeping your toes off the ground with both his arms placed under your breasts as he juts his cock deep inside you almost reaching your womb.

“umph—fuck..i love your tits,” he coos, catching your reflected gaze and watching how beautiful you look getting fucked by him, with both your arms tied behind his neck as he bounces you on his cock. his eyes lockes on your delicious breasts admiring how they jiggle with each thrust of his hips, “love how soft they are, how they bounce when i fuck you,”

“nngh—hah please- k-keep going fuck—yes mngh,” your eyes roll back, body is all numb by now, completely ignoring the sting in your arms, as all you can focus on is his brutal pace, feeling your slick run down your thighs.

“look at your pretty pussy yeah?—uh fuck-look how it sucks me in, so eager for my cock hmm? i could fuck you—ungh..all the time.” he growls between words, losing his mind, as you struggle to take him at this punishing fast speed.

“fuh-ck yes ’samu nghh, feels so good ahh right there—goddamnit ’m gonna cum gonna cum aah-” you're particularly screaming by now, legs trembling as he holds you tight against his chest and you can feel the droplets of his sweat sliding down your back, your breasts bouncing, eyes crossing in a blissed-out haze.

“yeah? you're gonna cum hmm? my pretty sweet girl is gonna cum? fuuck fuck..yes yes—squeeze me like that—ngh cum on my cock baby...c’mon give it to me.” he keeps chanting in your ears as his tip keeps assaulting your g-spot.

“y-yess—fuck ’samfff” your cry got muffled by his hungry kiss, tasting all of him, too brainless and fucked out to focus on the constant twitching of his cock between your spongy slick walls, hips snapping faster and faster, filling his bedroom with the filthy lewd noises of his balls slamming against your folds as he rides out his orgasm filling you with his thick ropes of white seeds.

your lips barely manage to form a muffled squeal against dazai's wet lips before pleasure shoots through your veins, toes curling from the intensity of your full body orgasm, body trembling and writhing, gushing all over his cock.

dazai finally pulls back slightly, breath unsteady only connected to you by a string of your swapped spit.

one of his hands presses against the mirror trying to steady himself as he catches his breath. he then pulls out of you letting your mixed arousal drool down your thighs and soak the wooden floor. he places a soft, wet kiss on your lips before releasing your wrists from behind his neck, allowing them to fall to your sides.

he gently lets your feet touch the floor, loosening his firm hold around your waist. but just as he's about to let go, you stumble instantly, your legs trembling as you nearly fall. “hey hey baby, you okay?” he quickly catches you again, pulling you close to him with a reassuring grip.

“y-yes just t-ired” you manage to breathe out.

in one smooth motion, he spins you around so you're facing him. “sorry, i might've overdone it a bit,” he teases, brushing a strand of hair away from your flushed face. his hands linger on your waist, keeping you close as your legs slowly regain strength.

“so,” he tilts his head as he leans down a bit, “do you still think I want that girl from the café?” he raises an eyebrow, watching for your reaction, clearly amused by the idea.

his fingers trail lightly up your sides, pulling you closer again as if to remind you exactly where his attention lies. “because, sweetheart,” he adds with a smirk, “if this hasn’t convinced you yet, i can still go for another round.”

TAGS: @a-smol-bean @violetbutterflix @amanoava @falloutjuli @embersweapons @warriordemigosworld @cathias @v15aexe @vasarii @pe4rl-diver @sukidenks @dazaifavbandage @chuuminn @fyodorsprettynun @ace-0fspades69 @irasamu @trippyserval @alyszuha @bittysuguro @writingandmusing @corruptedwrathkitsune @thedamselzelda

[ash-says]

Survival 101 :

Buckle up your seatbelt darling because this is going to be triggering and one hell of a ride. Don't expect mushy from me. Might do it when tapped in my soft girl era but today I feel like a Villain.

1) Keep your mouth shut where you don't hold the power. No power no expressed opinions that can put you in trouble.

2) Learn manipulation and seduction skills. This will help you to detect when someone is trying to manipulate and seduce you. Saves a lot of drama and heartache.

3) Fight back strategically. We don't want to lose a job, a degree certificate, a bruise on your body,etc depending on your situation.

4) Facts over emotions. Always.

5) 90% of older men are creepy. Speaking from experience here. Play with them by ear. Get what you want by being polite and respectful but if they try to harass you or take advantage we turn Medusa on them or if you are not in a position to fight and walk out safe just play cutesy and shy and dumb. Ask him what he means and do not take a word said by him seriously. Dodge his advances like your life depends on it until you get an opening to run for the hills.

6) Snap out of delusions and pay attention to reality. People are not what you make them out to be they are what they show you. Stop making excuses for them.

7) Anxiety can be crippling. Panic attacks are the worst but no matter what happens try your level best to never show them publicly. Men are vultures and vulnerable women are easy prey for men.

8) That one friend who is all sweet to you and is your bff but anything positive happens in your life and suddenly starts becoming passive aggressive. Not your friend. Don't share any secrets. Best to be kept as an acquaintance.

9) Develop sarcasm and don't be afraid to put self entitled bitches and bastards in their place. Better being called a 'Mean Girl' over a 'Doormat'.

10) Bully back the bullies. It's 2024 sweetie we don't wait for an opportunity for revenge we fucking create it.

11) No matter how tough your life is going everyone shouldn't be getting a broadcast about it. At least not by your own mouth. Try to act as put together as you can.

12) Kindness is virtue but being apathetic saves you. Don't be the fool who bleeds through the stabs of the same knives again and again. "Because I can't see them in pain. I have a heart." Babygirl you have a life too. All that emotional stress is going to result in some serious problems in the upcoming years.

13) Learn when to quit. The most emotionally intelligent people I know are great quitters. They know when it's the end of an era.

14) Never disclose your family issues to outsiders. Until and unless a person has proved their loyalty to you year after year only those selected one or two people should know your domestic issues. Anyone else knowing it is like having a good gossip for tea time.

15) Lastly, there are no fucking saviours in real life. You are your own saviour.

[beta-therapy]

Why can't betas just "act more alpha?"

We have all seen what it’s like when a woman interacts with a man who she wants. The man brings forth dominance and confidence, which pairs with the woman’s submissiveness and desire like yin and yang. You can easily tell that the two are destined to have sex (which can be thought of as the physical manifestation of these emotions).

A lot of men might witness that and think “Wow, I want a woman to look at me the same way she was looking at him,” then decide to go out and approach a woman in exactly the same way. He would try to carry that same bold, dominant energy he saw earlier.

But instead of responding with submission and desire, the opposite happens. The woman steps back and delivers harsh criticism, like “I don’t give out my number to strangers, so stop acting like you’re entitled to it.”

The attempt at being charming, confident, and forward (traits that make a woman go head over heels for a man) ended up backfiring when a beta tried them, and it made the woman repulsed. Why? Because it’s not possible to “learn” confidence.

Imagine if all the things that women find irresistible about the men they sleep with could simply be learned and implemented by anyone. Imagine if there was a blueprint that anyone could follow on how to seduce women, and the only thing separating alphas and betas is that the alphas followed the blueprint.

Then we would all just follow the blueprint and have a ton of sex! There would no longer be this disparity where sex is abundant for some men and extremely scarce for the rest.

But that disparity—caused by the tendency of females to all flock to a minority of males for sexual reproduction—has been a fundamental characteristic of our species for millions of years. There’s no blueprint that allows one to cheat human nature. A beta cannot put himself into the category of men that women desire by simply mimicking alpha behavior.

You can try to, but you’ll see that any woman will immediately know what you’re doing. Your body language will be slightly off. The expression on your face will be slightly off. The words you’re saying will seem canned and rehearsed. A woman will notice your fake charisma right away, and she will not be one bit attracted to it. Instead of fantasizing about you, she will be figuring out how to end the conversation.

Some men have the ability to bring out the dangerous, adventurous, desirous, and hedonistic spirit in women, thus creating that yin and yang polarity mentioned in the beginning. Most men don’t have that power, and actually have a hard time getting women to have sex with him, if he can at all.

Some naïve advice might be “bro, you just need to flirt more and touch her physically to build sexual tension.” Yeah, good luck with that, especially with a woman who’s just not having it at all. That’s a good way to get her to smack you in face and call the police on you.

Indeed, if you try to tamper with the fabric of Nature, it always will snap back and hit you in the face sooner or later.

Now we see that the question posed in the beginning is answered by a basic law of human nature:

It is not possible for any man to simply “learn” the things that make women sexually aroused, for if these traits could be faked, women would not find them attractive because they would no longer say anything positive about a man’s suitability for genetic propagation.

And to clarify, women don’t consciously think about any of this. But their interest in sexual partners is an unconscious process, and the natural law just put forth is a very strong, useful explanation of this unconscious process in the female mind.

The correctness of the law is obvious. Think about every one of the things women go for: confidence, charisma, money, status, sexual history, social dominance, blah blah blah... None of them can be easily faked, and in particular, faking them all at once is damn near impossible. Each of these things say something deep and substantial about you as a man. They each are like games with winners and losers, and the key point is that a loser can’t fake being a winner. That’s exactly why women find these things so attractive.

[daydreaming-nerd]

The Prophecy (Lucien Vanserra x Rhys! Sister)/(Azriel x Rhys! Sister) Part 3 (Lucien's Version)

Part 1 , Part 2, Part 3 ( Azriel's Version)

AN: I'm not really sure if I like how this turned out, so if you're new here I promise my writing it typically so much better. ALSO there are so many new faces on here! I wanted to say hello and thank you for the love once again! If you liked this fic and you love drama, forbidden love, protective acotar boys, a bit of a slow burn, and political intrigue you would LOVE and I mean LOVE my fic Young Love and Old Money. I’m still writing it but it’s almost completed! Go check it out you won’t be disappointed!

and of course check out my masterlist

Summary: The only thing worse than having Azriel not know about the bond is watching him and Elain carry on like she doesn’t have a mate as well. Lucien and you have been long time friends but things change after one fateful starfall celebration. It’s not wrong if both of your mates don’t want you right? 

Warnings: smut, so much lucien fluff, happy ending for lucien (for once) :)

Word count: 5057

We arrived in the house in silence, the only thing to fill the void was the crackling of the enchanted fire that always sprang to life whenever I walked through the door. My eyes were fixed on the floorboards, studying every grain of wood as I put together what had just happened. 

I had told Azriel about the bond, and I did it in anger. I had imagined telling him a million different ways over the past 400 years but never did imagine doing it out of spite. I was just so angry with Elain and her insufferable entitlement that had me seeing red. If anyone should act in such a manner, it should be me, I was a princess after all. 

I was furious with Elain there was no doubt about that, but the voice that kept echoing in my mind was Azriel’s. How he yelled at me. I had known him my whole life and I had never once been afraid of him,  until today. 

As if he was tired of the silence, Lucien brushed his hand under my chin bringing my gaze to his, it wasn’t until then that I realized I was crying. I didn’t even give him a chance to ask if I was alright before I started blubbering. 

“Lu I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to. She just got under my skin and I-” 

“Shhh” he cooed, pulling me into his chest. “It’s okay, I understand. I didn’t react much better when Azriel started talking.” he chuckled, no doubt remembering how he preemptively called me his wife, the words had rolled off his tongue so effortlessly it was admirable. 

“He’s never raised his voice to me like that. Not ever,” I hiccup into his chest, his scent like apples, spiced berries and woodsmoke. 

“I should’ve burned him to a crisp for doing so he has no right to treat you that way,” he said, pressing a kiss to my forehead.

“It’s alright, now that he knows he’ll be entitled to act possessive of me,” I sigh, starting to feel my pulse slow in his arms. 

“And I’m not granted that same right? To protect you?” Lucien said, tilting my chin up to meet his gaze. 

“Well, you aren’t my mate,” I laugh looking into his eyes. 

“And what if that doesn’t matter to me? That we aren’t mates? What if I think that the Cauldron made a terrible, horrible mistake by not binding me to you in every way imaginable?” he confesses. 

I search his face for a hint of that playful gleam I saw earlier. The trickster, the silver tongued fox who might be playing me for a fool. But I didn’t find it, for all those fiery eyes bore was sincerity. 

“What do you mean Lu?” I ask earnestly. 

“Exactly what I said, you aren’t my mate, but…” he stops as if to consider his words. “But I still feel like you are in a way, I feel protective of you. In a way I always have, remember when you scraped your knee climbing that cherry blossom tree in the spring court all those years ago?” 

I smile remembering the event, I had wanted some cherry blossoms to braid into my hair. “Yes I do, I still have the scar.” I laughed. 

“I know you do, I see it every time I make love to you,” he smiled back. “I remember carrying you to the healers at the spring court from half a mile out. Even then I couldn’t stand the thought of you bearing any sort of scar. What I’m trying to say is that you may not be my mate, but I love you like you’re mine. Because you are, you are mine.”

My breath gets caught in my throat and my eyes go wide at those three little words. The ones I thought I might’ve felt too these past few months. 

I love you. 

For a year now things between Lucien and I had been strictly situational, just a means to an end. Then I started noticing the little things, his toothbrush next to mine, his laundry in my hamper, him having his own side of the bed. Things changed, but it wasn’t a bad change, which was a new idea for me, as I had always resented change. But not this, this was good. 

I thought I had felt that emotion with Lucien before. The night that I came home and he had made us both dinner. The time he bought me the second book in a series just because he noticed I was almost done with the first. The week I was sick he nursed my back to health. I thought I felt love each and every one of those times, but I wasn’t sure. I always teetered on saying it but never caved. But as I stood here in his arms, watching his eyes light up as he said those words to me, I knew I felt the same.

“I-I love you too Lucien,” I said quietly so only he could hear, even though we were the only two people in the house. 

He wastes no time bringing his mouth to mine, for so long our kisses had been fervent, needy. Both of us desiring pleasure and the codling that came after it. This kiss was different than all the rest, in it I felt real love. The kind I had only read about in my numerous romance novels. I dreamed of being kissed this way my entire life. 

I felt strong hands grip my waist hoisting me up. My legs instantly wrapped around his waist as he started bounding up the stairs, his enthusiasm making me giggle.

“Believe me my love, there is nothing funny about the way I’m going to ravish you tonight,” he smirked before kicking open the bedroom door. 

The next day I woke up slowly, not wanting to move from where Lucien had placed me on his chest last night. Both of us took our time to have a steady morning knowing that later in the day there would be chaos. Lucien got up first, always the more responsible of the two of us. When I murmured a sleepy protest he simply chuckled and placed me back in bed, where I snuggled into the warm sheets that smell faintly of him. 

When I woke for the second time I smelled that delectable scent of pancakes wafting through the small townhouse. The aroma pulled me from the sheets in a sleepy haze as if my body was controlled by some other worldly force. Slipping on my blue nightgown and padding downstairs into the kitchen I found Lucien half clothed and cooking breakfast for the two of us.

“Blueberry pancakes, not chocolate chip,” he assured me, sprinkling fresh blueberries onto a pancake. 

“You remembered,” I sighed leaning against the counter watching him intently. When Lucien had first made breakfast for me I was taken aback by his cooking skills, there was no way that this man was the complete package. 

“How could I forget?” he laughed, flipping a pancake. “Last time I made chocolate you were on your cycle and you were so befuddled that you yanked the spatula out of my hand and spanked me with it.” 

I slid between him and the stove, “Don’t act like you didn’t like it,” I say my voice low and sultry as my hand slowly reaches for the spatula he’s hidden behind his back. 

“You little minx,” he teases when he feels my fingers searching for the torture weapon. The mischievous gleam flashes in his eyes and before I can run he swipes a blob of whipped cream from a nearby bowl onto my cheek. 

“Lu!” I scoff going to wipe the cream off my cheek but he grasps my wrist to stop me. 

“Fair is fair my dear,” he smirks before licking the sweetness off my cheek. I immediately feel my toes curl at the fiery sensation.

“You are insatiable,” I laughed, moving away from him to properly wipe my face.

I feel a quick slap to my arse with the spatula and I turn to see my fiancé standing with a self satisfied smirk. “Says you little miss ‘more Lucien more!’” he teases recalling how I begged him to touch me last night.

“I knew you would  tease me about that!” I shouted, pushing his study form as hard as I could, he didn’t even teeter. “I’ll never beg for you again!” 

He smiles, grabbing my left hand and pulling it to his mouth, placing a kiss on the ring adorning it. “There will never be a need,” he smirked. “Now go and set the table, babysitting Nyx duties can’t be put off for forever.” 

I had told Rhys and Feyre that I would happily watch Nyx this afternoon. Of course that was before they knew about Lucien, who might’ve gotten away with a pleasant afternoon in my townhouse with a new book but now? He was shackled to me to watch the young one.

 While the little High Lord in training was typically quite docile, he had just learned to crawl and had begun flapping his little wings, which meant trouble was becoming the new normal. Which is exactly what had happened today…

“Nyx no!” I shouted as he reached for a heavy book on one of the bookshelves, his tiny wings helping him to gain the extra inch or two of ground he needed. 

I grabbed him from underneath his shoulders and brought him into my arms, bouncing him on my hip as his eyes caught the shiny necklace I was wearing. His little hands grabbed at it and I figured it was better than a vase or another heavy book. 

“Just imagine till he can actually fly,” Lucien chuckled, coming up behind me.

“That won’t be for quite a while thankfully,” I laugh, bouncing the babe up and down.

“Are you so sure about that? Cassian seems to already be giving him lessons.” he points out. 

“I don’t even want to think about a flying toddler,” I scoff and Lucien chuckles behind me. 

 He pressed a kiss to the top of my head and I could feel his lips curling into a smile.“Is it bad that I’m enjoying watching this?” he admitted. 

“Watching what?” I laugh as Nyx puts the necklace in his mouth. 

“You, with a baby in your arms,” he said. 

“I’ve always wanted children,” I said and a beat of silence passed until I decided to be bold. “Lu, do you think we could ever have children?” I ask, afraid to turn around and possibly see a wary look on his face.

I felt Lucien’s chuckle reverberate behind me, “As many as you would like my darling.” he laughed. 

I whipped around with Nyx to search his eyes for a hint of uncertainty, but he seemed happy about the idea, “Really?” I asked in disbelief. 

“Of course,” he assured me. 

“I want a million just like little Nyx here,” I smile looking at the babe in my arms. 

“Minus the wings of course,” Lucien laughs behind me and I pause. 

My entire life I had always pictured my children with wings. Small, delicate little things that I would ‘ooo’ and ‘ahhh’ over.  I remembered seeing the Illyrian children in Windhaven growing up, I was always so happy when mothers would let me hold their babies, their wings so adorably small. I looked forward to having winged children of my own, but now things had changed. 

“What is it my dear?” Lucien asked, breaking me out of my trance. 

“Oh it’s nothing, it’s just that when I pictured my children I always figured they would have wings,” I say, pressing a kiss to Nyx’s temple. 

As if summoned, Azriel walked in, Rhys and Feyre in tow, signaling that their meeting was over. His eyes flitted to me, no doubt having heard what I had said. Lucien’s hand tightened on my hip. 

“How was he? Was he good?” Feyre smiled crossing the room to take her son in her arms once more.

“He was, but those wings are going to give me grief one day,” I smile watching Nyx snuggle into his mothers arms. 

“Don’t worry I’m terrified too,” Rhys laughed, approaching his mate and child. 

A comfortable silence ensued as I watched the little family reunite, smiles and warmth surrounding them. Lucien’s hand came to my shoulder, as if promising that we too would have that same picture perfect family one day. 

“Can we talk?” Azriel asked timidly, taking a step away from the doorway he leaned against. Feyre and Rhys take out of the room, no doubt feeling the change in the atmosphere.  

I searched his eyes for a hint of aggression but all I found was remorse, “Yes we may,” I say quietly.

“If you lay one hand on her spymaster I will burn you to ash,” Lucien growled, his hand on my shoulder tightening possessively.

“You have my word that I will not touch her in anger,” Azriel said earnestly, not a hint of teasing or mockery. Instead, a new found respect for Lucien showed in his eyes. 

I go to follow Azriel into the other room when I feel Lucien grab my hand pulling me into his broad chest. 

“Wait,” he said before slamming his lips to mine. The gesture was so passionate I couldn’t help but let out the slightest of moans as I felt him cradle the back of my head. This wasn’t just a kiss goodbye, it was a display of power to Azriel, letting him know how serious the two of us were. I couldn’t help but feel my lips turn up at Lucien’s sudden daring. 

I felt him back away to survey my face, as if looking for any hesitancy to enter into a conversation with Azriel. When he was certain I was comfortable he placed a kiss on my brow, “I’ll be right here if you need me.” he said as I dropped his hand and followed Azriel into Rhys’ study. 

The doors to the office closed with a resolute click as Azriel turned to face me, his eyes somber. 

“First and foremost I wanted to say I’m sorry for the way I behaved the other night. I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that or said the things I did” he said leaning against the desk a food meter away from me, as if Lucien had scared him from coming any closer. 

“It’s alright I forgive you. I shouldn’t have blurted out such an important thing anyways. We were both at fault.” I say earnestly. 

Azriel pulls his gaze from his boots to me, “I heard what you said in there, about your children having wings. Did you ever picture that those children would be?” he starts leaving me room to finish the sentence for him. 

“Yours? Yes.” I say timidly.

Azriel sighs as if weighing what all this means, “How long have you known?” he prompts. 

I think to lie, but it wouldn’t bear well on my soul. It was best to get it all out in the open. 

“400 years.” I confess and he curses under his breath. “I knew it the night you danced with me at the solstice ball in the Hewn City.” 

“Fuck y/n,” he curses again, turning to brace his hands on the desk behind him and I take a tentative step towards him. 

“I’m sorry I never told you, that wasn’t fair to you.” I sigh, but he doesn’t reply so I continue on. “It’s just that every time I thought about it you were pining for Mor and then Elain. I never felt I stood a chance. But you would talk to me about them, and even though it broke my heart to hear how you loved them so, it was better than losing you. I told myself that if I couldn’t have your love I would cherish your friendship, and maybe that was selfish of me but I did it.” 

Azriel finally turned from the desk to meet my gaze and I tried to offer him the most sympathetic glance I could. 

“I understand why you never told me, but I still wish I had known. Thing’s might’ve been different.” he said, running a hand through his hair. 

I pause to consider his words, “Would they be?” I ask. 

He looked at me in confusion, like I was dispelling the idea that the sky was blue. I understood his disarray. For thousands of years things had always been the same, mates were mates and that was that. But maybe what Lucien said last night did have merit. 

“Are you not happy with Elain?” I prompt him with a light heart, as I finally started to feel some solace in my own words. 

“y/n I don’t want to-” 

“You do not burden me Az.” I interrupt him, knowing what he was going to say. “Tell me truthfully.” 

A blush tints his cheeks as he averts his gaze to his boots once more, “I am happy. I am very happy.” he smiles as if he can’t help it. 

“I think it was meant to be this way,” I say honestly watching the shadowsinger reeling in front of me. 

“What about you? Are you?”

“Happy?” I ask, glancing to the door where I know Lucien waits for me on the other side. “I’m happier than I’ve been in a long time.” I smile answering him. 

“How long have you and him been… you know?” he asks, seemling losing all tension in his body as he sees me at ease.  

“Since starfall,” I answered, remembering the first time Lu kissed me. 

“A year?!” Az balked, raising his voice in disbelief. 

I laugh watching his face drop, “it’s interesting the things you don’t notice when you’re in love,” I wink at him, knowing he was too caught up with Elain to pay any mind to Lu and I. 

Azriel shakes his head as if processing this new information before he turns to me again, “And do you love him?” he asks. 

I smile remembering last night, “I do, I love him very much.” I answer. 

“And does he love you?” Az presses further, as if he needs to tie up all loose ends before he can be at ease with the entire situation. 

“I think he made that pretty clear a couple minutes ago,” I laughed, referring to the kiss he gave me. 

“Yeah I suppose I got that message loud and clear,” Azriel chuckled as a pause of silence fell over us. “I think… I think in another lifetime we would’ve made each other really happy.”

“Maybe even this lifetime.” I say sadly thinking of what could’ve been. “But I love Lucien, he chose me when I thought no one else would, and maybe I’m making a mistake by marrying him. But somehow it feels like the first right thing I’ve done in the past 400 years.” 

“He’s a very lucky man,” Azriel remarked with a certain sadness. “I hope that you will be happy with him,” he finished seemingly giving me his blessing.

“I think it was meant to be this way, don't you?” I ask, finally feeling my heart and my conscious lighten. 

“I do,” he smiles before holding his hand out to me. “Friends?” he asks. 

I nod clasping my hand in his, “Friends.” 

“Let’s get you back to your fiancé before I find myself in a pile of ash on the floor,” Azriel chuckles, putting his hand on the door. 

I laugh with him and when the door to the living room opens I find Lucien and Elain hugging. 

My heart is caught in my throat as I realize that perhaps Lucien might’ve changed his mind. I wouldn’t have blamed him if he did. She was his true mate after all and, she was astonishingly beautiful. Maybe I was misled when Azriel and I settled our differences. 

Both their heads whipped our way, and Lucien’s smile shined brightly. I was unsure of who that smile was for until he ran over to me, grabbing me by the hips and spinning me around. 

“It is done,” Lucien cheered and out of the corner of my eye I saw Azriel throw an arm around Elain’s shoulders. 

“What is?” I laughed once my feet were back on the ground. 

“I don’t want to wait any longer. I want to call you my wife by sundown.” Lucien said affectionately. 

“And why shouldn’t you wait? She’s a princess after all, you should snatch her up while you can,” Elain called out affectionately from Azriel’s side. I couldn’t help but look at the two of them standing there.  

A hand snaked its way under my chin taking my attention to him before he planted his lips on mine. “Be mine, forever.” he proposed. 

I couldn’t stop the smile that graced my face, “Okay,” I said quietly. 

A cheer from Elain erupted behind me and suddenly it felt like all the pieces were falling into place, like everything I had ever wanted for myself had now come true. 

The ceremony was short, just like Lucien and I had wanted. However, instead of an elopement it was a small gathering, Cass and Ness, Amren, Mor, Az and Elain and of course Rhys and Feyre were present. I wore my mothers dress and at some point Lu had slipped out to buy me a proper ring, not that I minded the old one. 

The rest of the night was filled with drinking and frivolity. The whole family laughing and telling stories, and for the first time in a long time, I felt like I belonged with all of them, as I sat on my husband's lap. It wasn’t until many glasses of wine later that I found Lucien carrying me bridal style over the threshold of our home. 

“This really isn’t necessary,” I laughed, holding a spare bottle of wine in my hand as he stepped through the doorway, the fireplace roaring to life. 

“It’s traditional for a husband to carry his wife over the threshold of their home after the wedding.” he retorted, stepping inside the house and closing the door with his foot. 

“For humans not for fae,” I corrected him as he finally set me down on slightly unsteady legs. 

“Maybe I just wanted an excuse to carry you,” he laughed, taking the wine from my hand and setting it on a side table by the door. 

“You never need an excuse for that,” I laughed, throwing my arms around his neck. 

“Well in that case,” he smirks before picking me up again and bounding up our stairs.

My feet don’t hit the floor until we’re in our room, his lips finding mine in an instant. With a wave of my hand I remove my dress, magically placing it back to wherever my dear brother found it. Lucien tossed his shirt over his head so that my hands might wander the plains of his toned chest. His hands find my hips pushing me away ever so slightly so that he can see me.

His eyes graze the expanse of my bare body and I’m suddenly frustrated by the fact that I’m the only one laid bare in the room. 

“My wife,” he says, kissing my lips, pulling me closer. “My, beautiful, beautiful wife.” he kisses me again, smiling like he can’t help it. 

I try to speak but he deepens the kiss once more, robbing me of words as he uses his body to overpower me with sheer force. His hands find my arse, giving it a squeeze before lifting my feet off the ground and tossing me onto our bed. 

In a turn of events, my eyes wander the expanse of his body. Toned from years and years of training. His eyes sparkle with amusement and suddenly I feel like a sitting duck awaiting his mouth on me once more. 

He falls onto the bed, hovering over me as he places yet another kiss on my lips. I use his imbalance to knee his hips towards the bed, my body weight pinning him beneath me as his eyes look up to me with pure lust. Large hands dance up my sides as if to encourage any next move I might make. 

“My handsome, cunning, silver tongued husband,” I smirk, placing a kiss on his bare chest. My mouth trails over his chest, to his shoulders, and his collar bones. Needing every part of him on my lips. It isn’t until I get to his neck that he lets loose a groan and flips us back over. 

“While I enjoy the sight of you pleasuring yourself on my cock wife, I shall be the one to take you tonight,” he smirks, biting my neck hard, no doubt trying to leave his mark there. 

“Oh Lu,” I breathe, feeling my  body come alive over his lips and wandering hands. 

My eyes shoot open as I feel his breath hovering over my sex, the warmth causing my blood to burn. 

“What a lucky male a I am to be able to taste this sweet cunt whenever I please,” he smiled mischievously before licking a stripe up my center.

I let out a breathy moan as he continues to lick and suck every inch of me. His hands parting my thighs warm and hard as he circles my clit with his tongue. My fingers thread through his hair pulling him impossibly close, earning a groan from him that reverberates through me. 

“Like fucking honeysuckle,” he moans before trailing more kisses up my body. 

I slink down moving towards where his cock peeks out of his untied breeches. Needing to feel the weight of him in my mouth, needing to hear the whimpers of pleasure on his tongue but he stops me. 

“No not tonight,” he fusses pushing me back down into the mattress. 

“But Lu-”

“No buts” he interrupts. “I want to pleasure my new wife tonight. Let me have that,” he moans silencing any protest I might have with a kiss as he slides home. 

The all consuming feeling of being taken by him as me gasping for breath as my back arches off the bed. My tits rising towards his mouth and he easily grasps a hardened nipple between his lips, sucking eagerly. 

“Lucien,” I breathe feeling him all around me.

“I love you,” he rasped, thrusting deeper. “My wife I love you.” he grunted watching where he slammed into me with intensity. 

My hand came to cup his face bringing his eyes to mine. My fingers trace the scar over his golden eye as I see the emotion flood his russet colored eye. “I love you too, husband,” I whisper to him. 

A gleam finds his eyes and he drives into me harder, the sound of skin slapping reverberating throughout the room. It was as if me uttering his new title spurred him on. 

We’re a tangled mess of sweat slick limbs and ragged breaths as I feel him deeper and deeper inside of me. My nails scraping his back, trying to find purchase or something to anchor me as pleasure rips through my body. His pants become whimpers as I feel myself tightening around him. 

“Always so perfectly tight,” he curses, driving through my tight heat. 

His words are enough to have me falling apart under him, my legs shaking from pleasure as I cry his name. 

“Lucien oh gods!” I cry, my hands no doubt leaving marks in his skin. 

“That’s right my love, cum for me,” he groans before sputtering himself. “Fuck,” he mutters before I feel him burry his seed deep inside me. 

His whimpers fill the space between my neck and shoulder as he finishes inside me. Once he’s spent he rolls over taking me with him so I’m cuddled into his side. 

“I’m so unbelievably happy,” he whispers into the world, still coming down from his high. 

“I’m told that’s often a side effect of an orgasm,” I laugh running a hand up and down his chest, soothing him.  

“No,” he says breathlessly, turning so that he is hovering over me once more. “I’m unbelievably happy because of you. You have not only given me your love, but you’ve given me a house, and a family. I never thought I would have those things. You are… you are everything and I promise to be the most amazing husband I can be.” he smiles, pressing a kiss to my brow. 

“You already are,” I smile, pulling him into another heated kiss. 

It would undoubtedly be like this for many years to come. However long the Cauldron allowed me  to live, I knew I would always have a place here, with Lucien. And maybe things didn’t go as I had always planned, but gods was I happy, and more importantly I was loved. 

Lucien Vanserra chose me, not because I was his mate, or because the world told him to. No, he chose me because he loved me, even when it wasn’t convenient for him, and I chose him too. I would choose him until the end of my days. 

Epilogue: Five Years Later

“Careful my darling,” Lucien fussed, helping to lower me down onto a sofa. 

“Lu I’m pregnant not fatally injured,” I laugh waving him away as I rest my hands on my ever growing bump. 

“Of course, pregnancy is a walk in the park, I’ll remember that next time you beat me for serving you chocolate pancakes instead of blueberry,” he chides, pulling a blanket over my lap. “I spend a year telling myself you like blueberries and this little one comes along and all of the sudden you want chocolate.” 

“Pregnancy cravings are no joke my friend,” Rhysand laughs from the adjacent couch. “I find it best to satisfy your wife’s cravings as soon as possible before she asks for another ridiculous request.” 

“Especially when one’s wife is a princess,” Lucien teases, pressing a kiss to my temple.

“You married me!” I protest.

“And I thank the Cauldron every day that I did,” Lucien smiles, pressing a kiss to my lips finally.

Part 3 ( Azriel's Version)

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[antiquarianfics]

Jealousy, Jealousy

Jealousy is a green-eyed monster, or so they say. You’d argue that jealousy is actually a blue-eyed, one-armed, super soldier.

A/N: 1989 (Taylor’s Version) announcement led to this. You’re welcome! Pairing: tfatws!Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader Warnings: Swearing, sexual innuendo. Note: I do not own the character Bucky Barnes or any other Marvel affiliated characters.

You do not have permission to repost or copy my work; however, feel free to like, comment, and reblog.

—

“Boys only want love if it’s torture.” —Taylor Swift

You are incredibly aware of Bucky Barnes’ infatuation with you. You aren’t blind to his gaze; you aren’t deaf to his words. Bucky Barnes is in love with you—and he refuses to admit it.

You are also incredibly aware of Bucky Barnes’ tendency to distance himself from good things. He is a man who believes he deserves the worst; he is a man who does not believe he is worth loving. Bucky Barnes will accept hate all day, every day. He won’t accept love.

So, clearly, he will not act on his feelings unless it’s absolute torture. Right?

This idea you latched onto days before is what got you into your current situation: flirting obnoxiously with John Walker and letting the man put his hands all over you.

“If this isn’t torture for him,” you think, “it’s at least torture for me.”

You chance a glance at Bucky across the room. He is clearly displeased with the development between Walker and yourself.

Ever since Walker was introduced to Sam, Bucky, and yourself, you were all off put by his overconfident, entitled behavior. You all agree he does not deserve to carry Steve’s shield—he does not deserve to be called Captain America. So, flirting with Walker, you know, is absolutely a sure way to get under Bucky’s skin.

You weren’t quite prepared for how uncomfortable it is making you, however.

“So, what do you say, sexy? Want to celebrate when we win this fight?” Walker flashes you what he clearly thinks is a charming smile.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Bucky tense; his enhanced hearing picking up Walker’s innuendo. You take it to mean your plan is working.

—

“For the love of god, Barnes, just go tell her how you feel. It’s the quickest way to get her to stop talking to him!” Sam berates Bucky. Frankly, he’s sick of this will-they-won’t-they game you and Bucky are playing.

“No,” Bucky says simply, clenching his jaw and causing Same to groan.

“Why the hell not?”

Bucky doesn’t respond.

“She’s trying to make you jealous. You know that, right? She is intentionally torturing you so that you’ll man the fuck up and make a move.”

Bucky glares at Sam.

“That’s not what she’s doing.”

“Oh, yeah?” Sam challenges. “You think she looks happy to have Walker touching her and making suggestive comments?”

Bucky purses his lips and turns to stare at you again. He is keenly aware that you tense up every time Walker touches you and that you clench your jaw whenever he insinuates anything.

“Because I don’t think she’d be glancing over here to see your reaction if she was actually interested Walker over there.”

Bucky shoots Sam another annoyed look before returning his gaze to you. That’s when he makes eye contact with you.

You raise an eyebrow. He keeps his face stoic. You smirk. He scrunches his eyebrows. You keep a watchful eye on him while you stand on your tip toes to reach Walker’s ear, whispering something unintelligible to Bucky.

Walker’s eyebrows shoot up before looking at you with shocked, yet excited, eyes.

“Damn. Yeah. I, uh, I’ve got a good 20 minutes before I have to head out. We can go to my car?”

Bucky’s neck turns red as anger creeps through his body when he catches Walker’s words. It’s the straw that broke the camel’s back, so to speak.

Boys only want love if it’s torture.

—

You inwardly cheer when you see Bucky start towards you with a furious look on his face.

You back away from Walker, pretending to mull over his proposition as you let Bucky reach you.

Bucky shoves Walker out of the way and plants himself directly in front of you. His hands reach to your face, holding either side so gently—a direct contrast to the aggressive demeanor he carried on his trek to you. He leans in and kisses you passionately.

Bucky’s lips on yours is everything you hoped it would be: euphoric. His lips feel pillowy against yours, albeit slightly chapped. The force of his lips connecting with yours is gentle enough not to hurt you but aggressive enough to tell you he wants you. His teeth gently pulling your bottom lip between his makes you weak in the knees, and you can’t help but gasp.

It’s perfect. He’s perfect.

Your arms quickly snake around his neck, eyes fluttering shut. You let him keep control of the kiss—you’d tortured him enough—and only pull away when you desperately need to breathe.

As your lips disconnect, he rests his forehead against your own, but he stays silent.

“Well, hey there, Sarge,” you tease. “That was quite the hello.”

Bucky scoffs.

“Don’t be coy, Doll. I know what you were doing.”

“What was I doing?”

“You know.”

“I don’t. You should tell me.”

“You were torturing me.”

“I wasn’t doing anything to you, Bucky. I wasn’t even talking to you!” You allow your tone to remain playful while you deny any scheming that took place.

“You were talking to him,” he says with disgust.

“I can talk to whomever I please,” you point out.

“Not men who want to take what’s mine,” Bucky grumbles before connecting your lips again:

“Yours?”

Bucky nods, “If you want to be.”

“Obviously. Took you long enough. Can’t believe you made me flirt with Walker to get your attention.”

“Shut up.”

[savicals]

New neighbour König x afab reader

*König is your new neighbour, who you thought mildly disliked you.

Your first interaction with him wasn’t friendly. It wasn’t particularly rude, though. I mean, what 6”11 Austrian army recruit do you know that is a ray of sunshine?

You greeted him politely as he strode over to his door, but he looked over to you and tossed you a half-nod as he took half of his boxes inside in one trip. He barely spared you a good look, but he looked exactly the type.

He also looked exactly your type.

One of your windows overlooked his, so on occasion you would both catch each other’s gaze before König quickly averted his first. It made you smile, just knowing you got to share a quick moment.

Thats why it was so embarrassing.

So embarrassing when you were raving to your friend about how attractive he is, how big he is, how muscular and how you just know that he’s big there, too, he walked past.

He absolutely spared you a glance this time. As he walked past, his piercing eyes were fixated on you, and whether or not it was in disdain or interest, you had no idea.

Either way, it sent shivers up your spine.

He walked past after breaking your intense eye contact as if nothing had happened, but your face told another story. Shrouded in embarrassment, your face turned beet red and you tried to hide your face as your friend burst out laughing at you.

It’s been weeks now, and you hadn’t seen König once during. You figured he had just been deployed again since he worked in the army or something.

It was like that for months. The endless, very few ‘neutral’ interactions with him. You assumed he was at the very best indifferent towards you. But little did you know, behind those doors, König would be fucking his own hand like a madman thinking about you. Every time he caught you gardening in shorts that were a little too tight or in a skirt a little too short, he would have to stay home, to hide from you almost. Just to control himself.

Of course, you had no idea. You acted like you knew what you would be doing with the way you spoke to your friends, but you were still a touch-starved virgin at the end of the day. That didn’t stop you from fantasising about König, though.

You had no idea how much you were teasing him. You didn’t think he paid you any attention whatsoever.

Until you went out drinking with your friend. Some sleaze-ball was hitting on you and her nonstop, despite both of you telling him to go away and go home.

You were somewhat drunk, so you confronted the entitled prick. Unbeknownst to you at first, none other than König loomed over you from behind, glaring at the other male and filling him with fear and submission. You thought you had successfully driven him away, until you got an inkling to turn around.

The gift from God named König stood over you and your friend, glaring still at the male. He didn’t move until he knew he was gone and finally switched his attention to the two people in front of him. All you could do was stare at him in awe until he broke the silence.

“Are you… ok?” He said, talking to both of you. His voice was so deep, coated in masculinity and so gravelly.

Of course, you were starstruck. No way could you have said a word in your current state that wasn’t inherently sexual, so your friend answered for both of you.

You managed a choked out “Thank you,” a few minutes after, before he offered to take the both of you home.

[P2 out!]

[sttm99]

Bakugo falling for a 'popular' girl.

Sometimes Bakugo felt stupid for falling for you. Not that there was anything wrong with you, or that you weren't up to standard. Quite the opposite. Quite frankly, you were out of his league.

You were one of those crazy pretty Management Course girls that had boys and even girls falling at your feet. You were so used to being hit on and flirted with, it was like you were desensitised to it.

He'd held open the cafeteria doors for you one afternoon, much to the amazement of his friends. They gawked as he stood near the door, holding it open for you and one of your friends, and instead of receiving some blushy words of appreciation, you just muttered a dismissive thanks and walked through without sparing him a glance.

He stood there for the next few minutes, fists clenched by his side, head turned down with wide eyes and red cheeks, whilst Kirishima, Kaminari and Sero guffawed.

Then he looked back up in your direction, and watched as some random boy literally ran over to pull out your seat for you, and another had even gone to get your food tray so you wouldn't have to.

He paused.

Was that what he was competing with?

How would you ever notice him if every other boy in school practically worshipped the ground you walked on?

He began brainstorming, with the help of Kaminari, because he was considered to be the more romantic one of his friends.

"You just keep proving why I was right to call you Dunce Face!" Bakugo yelled at his blonde friend, cursing at and dismissing every single idea he'd been given.

"I think Kami's actually got some good stuff, Bakugo. You're just picky." Sero defended.

But of course Bakugo was picky. This was you! He'd watched you, studied you, despite how creepy that sounded. He knew the things you'd scoff at and scorn, and he knew the things you wouldn't even bat an eyelash at.

"You're all idiots!" He yelled at them and stalked over to his room, slamming his door shut behind him and pacing the space.

It was later that evening, that Kirishima had pulled him aside and told him to just be forward with you.

"Just go talk to her. Like, actually talk. Not opening the door, or pulling out her chair and expecting her to fall at your feet. It doesn't work that way."

Bakugo contemplated it, turned the idea over and over in his head. He nodded at Kirishima's words, deciding that would be what he would do.

He wasn't some blushy boy that couldn't get any words out once in your presence, and he wasn't some entitled brat that thought he deserved your favour for doing the bare minimum.

He was better than all those idiots. And he'd show that.

The next day at school, he caught you on your way to lunch, stopping you and asking for your time.

"Sorry," you began, your pretty, fake smile making its way to your lips as you looked at him. "But I'm really in a hurry right now. Maybe later?" You said softly.

He knew that wasn't true. It was a tactic you used, the same sequence of words you gave all the boys so as to avoid stupid confessions like his.

But he was better than them.... he'd show you.

"Please," he said, resisting the urge to bite at his lips at how uncharacteristic of him this was. "I just- I want to ask you something."

You sighed softly, looking at the girls by your side and urging them to walk forward. They did, but not before offering Bakugo sympathetic smiles, as though they knew you'd reject him, as though they knew he'd come out of the conversation with a broken heart.

"What is it?" You said to him, one hand on your hip and your weight on one leg. "I really don't want to miss lun-"

"One date." He blurted out quickly, wanting to go through with it before any nerves caught up with him. He wasn't used to this; asking girls out, flirting, courting. He'd never participated in the stupid, juvenile acts of romance with his peers, when everyone was just realising that the opposite sex wasn't all that disgusting.

He didn't know how to do this, but he wanted you, badly.

"A date, huh?" You said with a slight smirk, pushing away the strands of hair that had fallen over your forehead.

You could admit the blonde haired boy standing before you was attractive, very much so; with wide shoulders and bulky arms, and a sharp jaw and intense red eyes.

That, and he was Katsuki Bakugo. A student notorious for his refusal to indulge in romance with his peers, considering himself above it, and finding the whole ordeal to be a distraction from his goals. That driven, obtuse boy was standing here asking you for a date.

It swelled your ego just a bit.

He nodded. "One date. I-"

"You do realise that you asking me for a date doesn't exactly make you stand out from all the other boys." You cut him off with bored eyes.

He almost gapes at you.

"They all do this, ask me out cause they think they're better, or different from the ones that hold the door and pull out my chair. I reject them. All of them. Why shouldn't I reject you, Bakugo?" You ask.

He steels his resolve, taking a step to you, almost dwarfing you in his height and mass. He's big, and he knows it.

"You know my name. Do you know the names of those shitty idiots that drool over you?" He raised a brow.

You scoffed. "Even if-"

"You should know that I'm never one to play games. I don't believe in wasting my time. I want to spend it with you..., because I like you. Even if I don't know you all that much, Yn. One date. Let me prove it. That I'm worth it."

You stayed silent for a moment, a little smile tilting your lips upwards. "A restaurant date... cause you're making me late for lunch. So the good stuff will be gone."

He chuckled softly, the sound rich and throaty. "I'll give you anything you want, Yn."

You smiled at that. "Really?" You teased.

He took another step to you. You could smell his cologne now, could see some of the little blemishes on his pale skin.

"I'll give you everything. Whatever you desire."

You nodded smugly. "I like that. Good."

"So...?"

"When's the day?" You smiled up at him coyly.

"Saturday. I'll pick you up at 8?"

You nodded. "Alright then. See you Saturday, Bakugo." You offered him a small wave as you walked past him, making your way into the cafeteria.

[mononijikayu]

red wine supernova — ieiri shoko.

“Hey, Shoko.” you began, your voice low, deliberately smooth. “Can I say something?”  She glanced over, one eyebrow quivering in mild curiosity. “Hmm? About what?” “I like you. Wanna make out?” “Huh?”

GENRE: alternate universe - canon convergence!;

WARNING/S: afab reader, fluff, romance, nsfw, r-18, making out, kissing, love, humor, domestic, light-hearted, slice of life, love at first sight, falling in love, cuddling and snuggling, sensual acts, slight jealousy, lesbian romance, pining, lgbtqia themes, underage smoking, depiction of making out, misogyny, harrassment, depiction of under age smoking, depiction of sensual acts, depiction of canon related violence, mention of making out, mention of implied sensual acts, usage of they/them pronouns for reader, sorcerer! shoko, geto's sister! reader ;

WORD COUNT: 10k words

NOTE: i know i said there would be geto's younger sister, but i realized i think its more interesting if they are one year older. shoko was born november 1989, geto's older sister was born february 14, 1989 and suguru was born february 3rd, 1990. he's formal about his elder sister too, despite one year distance. but he's also very playful with them. they were recruited a year earlier than suguru and went to kyoto because they wanted to explore the culture. there's stuff i thought about them, so this might end up being a series. but we shall see!!!

masterlist

if you want to, tip!

IEIRI SHOKO DOESN’T THINK SHE’S KNOWN LOVE BEFORE. But she likes to think that it all changed when she met you for the first time. It was almost like fate, it was almost like there was no avoiding it. But she was happy about that. No, she was grateful that it was the case. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have had the pleasure of knowing life for the first time.

The first time Ieiri Shoko met you, it was entirely by accident. Nothing about it was designed to her liking. Or her wishes. But she was glad it happened. Because she met you. That's why it was worth it to her.

She had been wandering through Tokyo’s vibrant streets, relishing her rare day off from the usual chaos. She found herself near a cozy outdoor café, its quaint tables scattered under the shade of trees. From the corner of her eye, she spotted you: sitting alone, sipping iced coffee and nibbling on a croissant.

The scene was peaceful, the kind she usually ignored, but for some reason, she lingered, her gaze flitting back to you now and then. Then she noticed the disturbance.

A man had approached you—a smug, overbearing presence that seemed out of place in the otherwise tranquil atmosphere. His voice carried over the quiet hum of the café, his tone laced with a sickening blend of arrogance and entitlement.

“Come on, sweetheart. Just give me a chance. You don’t have to sit here all alone.” he drawled, leaning closer to you than was polite.

Your response was calm at first, measured. You weren’t even looking at him. “I’m not interested. Please leave me alone.”

But he didn’t listen. He leaned in further, his grin widening as if he thrived on the discomfort he was causing. Shoko hated men like that. Well, she hated men in general. That was just how it was.

But perhaps a slight difference when it came to Gojo and Geto. But that’s besides the point. She didn’t like men. And she didn’t like this man in front of her most, at least in that moment.

But she promised herself that she was going to take a break, dealing with men. She earned it after dealing with those two. But she kept staring. And staring. The man would not stop talking.

Shoko sighed, annoyance bubbling under her skin. It wasn’t her business, she told herself. She had no reason to get involved. She kept repeating that to herself, almost like a mantra. 

But the way you stiffened under his presence, the look of frustration mixed with unease on your beautiful face. No one was moving about to tell of the creep. Not a single one. And that sparked something in her. A bit of annoyance, a dash of anger and a hefty amount of disgust. 

She told herself she wouldn’t do much today. But she didn’t know how to do that. Not with men like these around. Not when you looked like you were ready to cry out against this creep. Without even realizing it, she readily stood up, abandoning her little cafe treats and her matcha before she started walking toward you, her fingers curling into fists.

“Hey, jackass—” she began, her voice sharp and dripping with venom. But before she could finish her sentence, your fist connected with the man’s jaw in a blur of movement.

The crack of impact echoed through the café as the man stumbled backward, careening into a nearby tree with a satisfying thud. Shoko froze mid-step, her eyes wide as she processed what just happened.

Everyone in the cafe now paid attention, when they didn’t earlier. They looked at you, face stone cold with disgust and anger. And your fist, brutishly brushed with redness with how hard you had hit him.

You shook your hand out casually, muttering under your breath. “Persistent types like you are the worst, you know that? Ugh, this is why I can’t stand men.”

Shoko blinked, her annoyance at the man replaced by a mix of admiration and surprise. But then, she felt it. It was quite easy to feel, even if it was just a faint pulse of cursed energy rippling from you, subtle but unmistakable. Her brow furrowed briefly, but it wasn’t the cursed energy that captivated her. It was you. And you were good at controlling your cursed energy. Too good.

“You better leave me alone, got it? Actually, for the matter of fact, leave every woman alone!” You retorted back to the man, getting nearer to him. He cowers, like the actual coward he is. “Now scram! Don’t ever come back here, you creep!”

The man started to cry wolf as he scrambled to his feet and started to leave. You snicker, looking at your red fists. You pout for a moment. You had fresh nails put on, Shoko saw. You must have chipped them. Shaking your head, you move to leave for your table once more. She walked the rest of the way over, stopping beside you as you calmly picked up your croissant like nothing had happened.

“That was quite impressive.” Shoko drawled, her tone laced with amusement. “Didn’t even need me to step in.”

You looked up at her, slightly startled but composed. “Step in? Were you planning to? Also….who are you? I’ve never met you in my life…..but I suppose, thank you.”

You seemed to be quite adorable to her, with the way you seemed to look at her with this clueless gaze. Your purple eyes were beautiful, brighter than anything she’d ever seen. Shoko thinks she could get lost in them quite often, if she continued to stare at you. But she quickly cleared her throat, slightly flustered.

“Maybe. I was just there.” she said, shrugging. “But I think you handled it just fine. That punch was... something.”

You smirked faintly, tilting your head. “I appreciate the thought, stranger. But I’ve dealt with worse.”

Shoko chuckled softly, stuffing her hands into her coat pockets. “Stranger? That’s a first. But clearly. Still, you might’ve gone a bit overboard. He might’ve cracked a rib or two on that tree.”

“Good.” you said simply, taking a sip of your iced coffee. “The more, the better. That way, he won’t have to cause more trouble for women.”

Shoko’s lips curled upward despite herself. There was something about your nonchalance, your quiet strength, that made her chest tighten in a way she hadn’t felt in a long time. You were a breath of fresh air in her rather nonchalant, dull everyday. And she had just met you.

She shook her head, more at herself than anything else. “Name’s Shoko, by the way. Ieiri Shoko.”

You raised an eyebrow but offered a polite nod. “Nice to meet you, Shoko. And thanks... I guess.”

“For what?” she asked, genuinely curious.

“For caring enough to try.”

And just like that, Ieiri Shoko knew she was in trouble. Because in the space of a few, genuinely, tender sentences and one well-placed cursed energy punch, she was done for.

Ieiri Shoko thnks that she had fallen for you—completely and irrevocably, right then and there. And there was no going back. That moment, fate had decided that you both were made for each other.

══════════════════

SHE KNEW SHE MISSED SOMETHING. God, that was frustrating. God, Shoko hated it. Absolutely hated it. Not the idiot who got himself punched into a tree—that part was satisfying. That part was great. And hearing you talk and seeing you smile as you both conversed after that, everything about that was just phenomenal. 

But, everything after that, she hated. She hated how she’d been so utterly struck by Cupid’s arrow that she forgot to ask for your name. Or where you were from. Or what your phone number is.

Or anything that could’ve prevented her from obsessing over you like some lovesick teenager. She had all the chances and she blew it. She absolutely made it a mess even before she met you.

Now, here she was, groaning into her coffee at Jujutsu High’s cafeteria, replaying the scene for the hundredth time in her head. Everything was so vivid and bright and yet she was distracted by the entire time.

Nothing was entering her head when she listened to you speak. But in her defense, you were just….you were just everything. And she breathed and lived you for a moment. She couldn’t help it.  

It was like the sun had come out for the first time. The clouds had parted. The birds were singing a melody to life once more. And it was because of you. You, sipping iced coffee like a goddess, croissant crumbs on your lips, while she just stood there gawking. She might’ve drooled. She wasn’t proud. But she couldn’t help it. Not when it was you.

Across the table, Shoko hadn’t noticed the tall white haired man before her. Gojo Satoru was staring at her with a growing grin, like a cat that had just found a mouse to toy with. This is the first time, he was certain, that Ieiri Shoko had been fazed in the entire time he’s ever known her. And it was all too interesting, all too fun. But also all too curious.

“You good there, Shoko?” he asked, poking her cheek with his finger. “You’ve been sighing like a drama queen all morning. Let me guess. Hungover?”

“Yo, Satoru.” Geto interjected behind him, his voice calm but firm. “Leave her alone. She must be exhausted from her healing courses with Ami–sensei.” 

“Ha? She also drank a lot of the contraband we brought in—” Suguru rolls his deep purple eyes at him. Gojo Satoru frowned. “Yah, don’t ignore me like that, Suguru!”

Geto Suguru, did in fact, ignore him like that despite his protests. Suguru turned to Shoko, his dark purple eyes full of genuine concern. “Seriously, though. What’s wrong? You’ve been acting weird.”

Shoko groaned louder and slumped further into her seat, refusing to meet their eyes. “It’s nothing. I just… I messed up, okay?”

Satoru’s eyebrows shot up, his smirk widening. “Oh-ho, Ieiri Shoko messed up? This I gotta hear. Did you botch a surgery? Or maybe—”

“Shut up, you stupid Gojo.” she muttered, glaring at him. “It’s not like that.”

Suguru shushed Satoru, who rolled his eyes back at him. Suguru looked back at Shoko once again and raised a brow. “Then what’s it about, Shoko? Any trouble? You know you can tell us anything. We’ll help you out.”

Shoko hesitated, her face flushing red slightly—a rare sight that immediately caught both of their attention. Suguru looked at Satoru, who looked back at him, just as curious. She sighed, realizing there was no escape, and finally confessed.

“I met someone the other day, during my day off.” she mumbled, barely audible.

“What? Who?” Satoru leaned closer with a sly grin on his lips, his sunglasses sliding down his nose. “What was that? Didn’t catch it.”

“I met someone!” Shoko snapped, sitting up straight and glaring at him. “Happy now?”

“Ohhh, Shoko’s got a crush!” Gojo Satoru crowed, clapping his hands. “This is gold! Who’s the lucky person? Wait, don’t tell me….it’s the nurse intern in the infirmary, isn’t it? She’s cute, I’ll admit. But she’s no Waka Inoue—”

“It’s not the nurse, you idiot.” Shoko groaned, burying her face in her hands. “It’s… someone I ran into in Tokyo. Literally perfect in all the ways I can think of. Strong, gorgeous, punched a guy into a tree—”

“Wait, wait, what?” Suguru cut in, his eyebrows furrowing. “They punched someone into a tree?”

“Yeah, and it was beautiful, Geto. You have no idea.” Shoko sighed, her bright hazel brown eyes glazing over as she got lost in the memory. “I think I blacked out for a while, but she was drop dead gorgeous!”

“So what’s the problem?” Suguru hummed as he asked, leaning back in his chair.

“The problem is I was too stunned to function.” Shoko admitted, groaning again. “I didn’t ask for their name, their number—nothing! I just stood there like an idiot, making heart eyes at them.”

Geto Suguru looked away. Gojo Satoru stared at her for a moment. Shoko sighed, leaning back against her chair. Suguru bit his lower lip. But almost too happy to not keep it in, Gojo Satoru bursted out laughing, clutching his stomach. 

“Oh my god, this is amazing! The mighty Ieiri Shoko, reduced to a lovesick fool! This might be the best day of my life.” He nearly fell off a chair, trying to balance himself.

“Shut up, Gojo. It’s not funny.” Shoko grumbled, throwing a napkin at his face. But he kept laughing. 

Geto Suguru cleared his throat and looked back at her. The threat of laughter disappeared, at least for now. “Okay, let’s think this through. Did they say anything that could help us figure out who they are? Maybe they frequent that café?”

“Maybe……” Shoko admitted, her face lighting up with a sliver of hope.

Satoru grinned wickedly. “I’ll help you track your future wife down. But only if I get to witness round two of you turning into a blushing mess. Like, a little met cute and I get to watch you both fall in love.”

Shoko groaned again, louder this time. “Why do I even talk to you two?”

“Because you love us, Shoko.” Satoru said, flashing a cheeky smile. “We’re your best friends, aren’t we? You loooooveeeee us!”

Shoko feels like she regrets even being alive. She groans lowly. “You’re making yourself not be my best friend right now.”

“Oh, come on! Don’t you think this is great? We’re your support group!”

“I’d rather not have that right now, thank you.”

Suguru grinned. Sometimes, Shoko forgets that he’s Satoru in a different font. “As if you aren’t glad we’re here for you right now. Your dear best friends are helping you get a girlfriend!”

“I’d rather not get that from you both, thanks. You’d ruin it.” Shoko retorts back, with a pointed glare.

“But isn’t that only because we’re the only ones who’ll put up with your nonsense, don’t you think?” Suguru quipped, adding a smirk for good measure. “Actually, that should be for Satoru more than Shoko.”

“Excuse me? My nonsense is what makes life fun!” Satoru shot back, feigning offense. “Besides, Shoko’s nonsense is way worse than mine. She just hides it better.”

Shoko crossed her arms, narrowing her eyes. “And yet, I’m still the sane one here.”

“Which is why you need us, don’t you think?” Suguru teased, leaning back with a knowing grin. “To balance things out. Otherwise, you’d be too sane. Boring even.”

Satoru clapped his hands together dramatically. “Exactly! We’re the chaos to your calm, the sprinkles to your plain vanilla. Without us, you’d just... exist!”

Shoko sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “And here I was, thinking I’d have a peaceful day. Big mistake.”

“But that would be sooooo boring.” Gojo Satoru scowled, almost like a five year old not being given candy. “The peace and quiet should be fun and booming!”

Suguru grinned, crossing his arms. “Just like Shoko’s love life soon enough!”

Satoru and Suguru shared a small high five and laughed. Ieiri Shoko scowled at both of them but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at her lips.

Maybe they were annoying, but she knew they’d have her back—even if it meant enduring Gojo’s relentless teasing along the way.

══════════════════

SHOKO THINKS SHE’S DREAMING. But no matter how she pinched herself, she knew this was reality. You were real. This was real. Everything about this was real. This next time Ieiri Shoko saw you, it felt like fate had finally decided to stop playing with her heart. It happened rather fast, faster than any prepared for. 

Only two months later, the yearly Sister School Exchange Event between Tokyo Jujutsu High and Kyoto Jujutsu High happened. And if Shoko was being honest, she wasn’t expecting much.

She wasn’t even going to participate in the way that Satoru or Suguru were going to. Everything about the two day event was just the usual chaos of students beating each other up under the guise of “training.” 

But Shoko was still required to attend. Thus far, she was the only student with the appropriate knowledge to heal wounds and treat damages. With her cursed technique, she was the only one who could help out the school’s physician and nurse with the amount of damages that may come between the students. No matter how bored she’ll get, she’ll still have to be here.

That’s what Ieiri Shoko expected for her experience this year. That she’ll be stuck watching kids like her with freakishly strong abilities fight each other to win. And she didn’t like that.

Gojo Satoru and Geto Suguru would give her much trouble with how they could end up defeating all of the representatives from Kyoto if they wanted to. All those unnecessary patients she didn’t need or want to heal at this moment. 

And then, you were there.

Just among the people in the front.

You were there, right in front of her.

Her mouth went agape with shock.

You stood among the Kyoto students, your uniform pristine, your posture confident. The moment Shoko’s eyes landed on you, it was like falling in love all over again—only this time, it hit harder. She froze, her heart doing that ridiculous thing where it skipped a beat, and she thought, Oh no. It’s her. It’s actually her.

As if sensing her gaze, you looked up, and your face lit up with recognition. A bright, radiant smile spread across your lips, and for a moment, Shoko could have sworn that the world stopped spinning, with all of that. But then, your gaze shifted.

“Suguru!” you called out, waving enthusiastically as you jogged over to him. “Suguuuuu!”

Ieiri Shoko’s smile faltered. Her brain screeched to a halt.

Oh, no. Oh, god. Are you straight?

Her stomach twisted. Were you... interested in Suguru?

Oh my god, you were already calling him Sugu?

Before she could spiral any further, Gojo Satoru —ever the opportunist—sidled up next to her, grinning like a Cheshire cat. “Hey, Shoko. What’s with the face? You look like someone just kicked your puppy.”

She groaned, burying her face in her hands. “Kill me now, Gojo.”

“Oh, this is rich coming from you.” he said, cackling. “Don’t tell me you’ve fallen for that Kyoto girl? The same Kyoto girl who’s now ogling Suguru? Shoko, you know we can’t trust them, let alone fall for them! What if they cry if we win?”

“I hate you. So much.” Shoko muttered, her voice muffled.

“Aw, come on, Shoko. You gotta admit, it’s funny—”

“Shut up, Gojo. Please!” she snapped, glaring at him. “I’m having a crisis here!”

Satoru snickered lowly, clearly enjoying her misery. “So, what’s the plan? Are you gonna confess your undying love before they elopes with Suguru? Or—wait—” He gasped dramatically. “Are you gonna challenge Suguru to a duel for their hand? I have to see this.”

Shoko was about to tell him off when she heard you laugh, your voice light and familiar. She glanced over and saw you standing next to Suguru, chatting animatedly. Then she caught Suguru’s expression: a rare, soft smile that he reserved for a select few.

Something clicked.

Wait. That smile wasn’t flirty. It was fond. Familiar.

…..One could say even familial in nature.

Then Suguru said, “You’ve grown, nee–chan! When was the last time we saw each other? Two years?”

And just like that, it hit her.

“Oh my god.” Shoko muttered, staring at you in horror. “They’re Suguru’s sister. Suguru’s older sister!”

Gojo doubled over, laughing so hard he nearly fell over. “This just keeps getting better! Shoko, you absolute idiot! All this time, and you didn’t realize they're Suguru’s sister?!”

“Shut up!” she hissed, her face burning as the pieces fell into place. 

Satoru blinked, “They even have the same eyes with different color palettes! One look and it’s obvious—”

“Gojo, not the time!”

Satoru started to lose it once again. “Oh shit, you fell for his sister!”

“Gojo—”

Meanwhile, you had turned toward Shoko, your smile as bright as ever. You waved, your joy uncontainable as you called out, “Hey, Shoko! Long time no see!”

Her brain short-circuited again. But this time, it wasn’t because of panic—it was because she realized she had an in. And Gojo? He just kept laughing. Oh, this was something new to him. He’d never seen Ieiri Shoko be this down bad, or at all be defeated in such a way someone smiled or greeted her. This was incredible.

Shoko froze like a deer caught in headlights. You were walking toward her now, that same radiant smile plastered across your face. Her heart raced as a thousand thoughts flew through her mind, but one screamed the loudest: Play it cool, Shoko. For the love of cursed energy, play it cool.

But then, right behind her, Gojo Satoru wasn’t helping. “Oh no, Shoko.” he snickered innocently. “Please don’t faint now. You’ll ruin the moment. Should I start humming the wedding march?”

She shot him a glare that could’ve dropped a special grade curse. “Gojo, I swear, if you don’t shut up—”

Before she could finish, you were standing in front of her, looking just as beautiful…no, even more beautiful than the last time she saw you. Your bright purple eyes sparkled with recognition as you clasped your hands together, grinning.

“I can’t believe it’s you!” you said, your tone light and genuinely excited. “I’ve been wanting to get a hold of you. But I didn’t know your contact info! I also forgot about asking Suguru here. That one was my fault!”

“Nee–san took too many missions this time around again.” Suguru retorted with a slight frown as you rolled your eyes, playfully. “You know you get forgetful when you get too exhausted! Take less work load! Mom already tells me to tell you! I can’t keep telling you, nee–san!”

Your younger brother was cute like this, you thought. He was always concerned about you, and even though you were the one older by one year—your little brother was the one between the two of you who was always more protective and caring. Perhaps that’s why you love your little brother a lot. You smiled at him, waving him off.

“Don’t worry too much, Sugu! I get to rest too!”

He frowned. “How many coffees did you drink today?”

“.....Just a little bit!”

“Nee–san!”

“Anyway, Shoko. Thank you again!” You ignore your younger brother’s lectures once more, giggling. “I was grateful for having you there.”

“Oh, uh...it’s fine, by the way. What happened.” Shoko cleared her throat as she once more stammered, her usual cool demeanor crumbling under your gaze. “It was nothing. You handled it yourself, readily. Brilliantly. Properly—” 

“You’re talkative!” You say to Shoko, causing her to blink.

She stops herself. “I’m sorry.”

You giggle. Oh, that was music to her ears. “No, no. It was just an observation. You have such a way of speaking, it’s rather nice to hear.”

Shoko could feel her cheeks turn red, brighter than before. She lowers her head. “A–ah…that’s fine. You…you still did much of the work, as I said.”

“Well, yeah….” you laughed, rubbing the back of your neck. “But I saw you coming over, and it meant a lot. It’s not everyday someone is willing to back you up like that.”

Shoko’s brain screamed: THEY REMEMBERED ME. THEY WERE THINKING ABOUT ME.

But before she could say anything remotely coherent, Geto Suguru once more joined the conversation, completely oblivious to the tension with a smile. You know that smile too well. You think you’ll get another lecture about this later. You sighed, you really should be more careful with yourself. You didn’t want to worry your little brother too much.”

“Since you know nee–san, we might as well make it more formal.” he said with a fond smile, resting a hand on your shoulder. “Shoko, this is my elder sister. They’re in their second year at Kyoto Jujutsu High. Nee-san, this is Ieiri Shoko. She’s one of the only healers who can do RCT properly.”

You beamed at her again, extending your hand. “Nice to formally meet you, Ieiri Shoko. My little brother talks about you all the time. You’re his…more sane friend, he tells me.”

Oh no, Shoko thought, panic setting in. She’s polite. She’s sweet. And she likes Suguru enough to listen to his rambling. I’m doomed.

Meanwhile, Gojo Satoru because of course, Satoru leaned into Shoko’s ear and whispered just loud enough for you to hear, “Shoko, do you realize?”

“Realize what, Gojo?”

 He grins at her, his glasses falling slightly from his eyes. “You’re blushing.”

“I’m not!” she snapped, swatting at him.

You tilted your head, curious but amused. “Blushing?”

“She’s totally blushing, nee–san!” Satoru teased, now openly grinning. “Rare sighting, don’t you think?”

Shoko groaned and ran a hand through her hair. “Please go on and ignore him. He’s an idiot.”

Satoru started to frown. “Shoko, not fair!”

“Then stop being so annoying!”

“I’m not being annoying, take it back!”

“No!”

You laughed again, the sound warm and genuine. You started to realize how animated they were the more you saw them argue. Suguru was right about them. They were fun. Perhaps especially to you – Shoko. Well, at least to you.

The doe eyed young woman pursed her lip onto a tight line as she felt the warmth of her cheeks deepen. She started to feel it in her ears and her neck. This was so bad. Right in front of you too. Ieiri Shoko felt like she could die right there and it would be fine. But then you said something that nearly killed her on the spot.

“So, Shoko......” you began, your voice tinged with curiosity. “How do you feel about dinner after the event? Maybe you can tell me more about how you and my brother became friends.”

Shoko blinked. “Dinner?”

“Dinner.” you repeated with a smile that made her knees weak. “Unless you’re busy, of course.”

Satoru gasped dramatically, butting in once more. “Is this a date? Oh my god, Shoko, you’re getting asked out—”

Suguru frowned, hitting Satoru’s arm. “Satoru, shut up.”

“But, Suguboo, our kid’s all grown up already! Flying out of the nest and spreading her wings out there in the wild, to find a mate—”

“Shut up, Gojo!” she barked, her voice cracking slightly She turned back to you, her cheeks burning. “I—I’m not busy. Not tonight…..Dinner sounds great, if you’d like it.”

“That sounds lovely!” You clapped your hands. “I don’t know many restaurants here in Tokyo, well the great ones. I’ll leave myself in your care!”

“Y–yeah….”

Geto Suguru arched an eyebrow at the interaction, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips. “Looks like you two are getting along already. Nee–san, I’m sure you’ll get along really well.”

You smiled at him. “That makes me happy, very much happy!”

Satoru couldn’t help but cackle. “Oh, they’re getting along great! Better than I ever imagined.”

As you laughed at their antics, Ieiri Shoko continued to think that all she could ever want in this moment was to go on and  sink into the ground. And yet, all at once, she felt the enjoyment of these warm feelings inside of her.

At the same time, she couldn’t help the tiny, shy smile tugging at her lips. Because you were here. And you were with her. Shoko couldn’t help but think that maybe fate wasn’t so cruel after all.

══════════════════

EVERYTHING FROM THAT DAY WAS ONE OF THE BEST OF SHOKO’S LIFE. That dinner turned out to be a game-changer. Well, at least that’s what she thinks. Ieiri Shoko, despite her usual aloofness, found herself opening up to you in a way that surprised even her. Perhaps in more deeper ways than he’s ever found himself honest with Geto and Gojo.

But perhaps it was because you were easy to talk to. You just knew what to say to people. You just knew how to make them laugh. You were everything in one. You were funny, sharp, and undeniably kind. And Shoko was quite sure that all her feelings quickly realized themselves as more than what she thought it was.

Initially, she knew it was a crush and that had only been scratching the surface. That she knew all too well. But by the end of the night, she was right.  There was more than what she felt on the surface.

She was utterly, quite honestly down to the depths of the earth smitten with you. But with the way you were looking at her, smiling ever so widely, even more than her — the stage was set for Ieiri Shoko. It was clear you felt the same way for her too.

Geto Suguru, sitting across from you two, watched with quiet amusement. He was pleased, almost proud, even. Seeing his best friend and his sister getting along so well warmed his heart. Seeing both of them happy and falling in love? He likes to think that could make his entire year. He liked seeing his nee–san happy, after all.  

“It’s nice to see you laughing like that, Shoko.” he teased lightly as the three of you wrapped up the meal. “I’ll have to thank nee–san for pulling it out of you.”

Shoko rolled her eyes, a faint blush dusting her cheeks. “Shut up, Geto.”

The Sister School Exchange Event ended with Tokyo’s team taking the win. Kyoto’s students were graceful in defeat—well, only mostly—but the sting of competition was softened by the relationships that were fostered during the event. Still, when the time came for you to return to Kyoto, Ieiri Shoko found herself uncharacteristically reluctant to say goodbye.

“Take care, Shoko.” you said with a soft smile as you stood by the school gates. “And don’t be a stranger, okay? Call me!”

Shoko gave a lazy wave, trying to mask the twinge of sadness in her chest. “Yeah, yeah. You too. You have my number, no?”

“I do, I do.” You grinned, showing her your contacts. Shoko leaned forward and saw her name saved rather nicely on your contacts. “Is it the right number?”

Shoko smiled. “It’s correct. Don’t worry.”

“Okay.” You smiled back at her too, putting your phone away. “I’ll call you. I’ll text you too.”

Shoko smiles at you. “You better, okay?”

You grinned back at her. “I promise you, I’ll set it all up!”

As you boarded the car, you gave her one last fond look and grinned at her waving. Shoko waves back at you. Soon enough, Shoko watched the cars move and drive off towards the train station. Shoko was about to return to her dorms when she heard her flip phone ring. Shoko took it out and smiled.

You: Hey, just checking in. Did Suguru manage to keep Satoru out of trouble after we left?

Shoko couldn’t help but laugh as she began to reply. That first text turned into a conversation that lasted hours. Then another the next day. And the next. Soon, it became a daily thing.

Shoko tried to keep it casual at first, but she was uncharacteristically shy about texting you. She’d stare at your messages, overthinking every word before typing a response.

Still, despite her hesitations, she found herself looking forward to your texts. And when you started sending little snapshots of your day—a picture of a training session, a particularly stubborn curse you had to exercise, or just the Kyoto campus in full bloom. She couldn’t help but smile. She was learning so much about you. And vice versa too. But most of all, it was making Shoko’s heart flutter like a little butterfly in flight.

But it didn’t take long for Satoru and Suguru to notice. It was easy to do that. Shoko hadn’t realized how distracted she had truly been until those two came by her dorm. Shoko lounged in her bed for a moment, her phone buzzed with another message from you. She picked it up immediately, a small smile creeping onto her lips as she read your latest story about Kyoto’s high’s antics. 

Satoru, who had been watching her from across the room practically pounced. “Ohhh, there it is again! That look on your face, Shoko!"

Shoko glared at him. “What look? Also why are you both here? Isn’t this the girl’s dorm? You can’t just go here without telling me!”

Suguru laughed, leaning against the wall. “Oh now you suddenly care for the rules, Shoko? We came by to check on you.”

She glared back at him, sighing. “I don’t need you to check on me.”

“That look really goes with the one from earlier. You know, the ‘I’m hopelessly in love and can’t stop texting them.'" Satoru teased, grinning like a maniac.

“Leave her alone, Satoru.” Suguru said, but even he was smirking. “Although, you’re not wrong. She’s been on her phone more than usual lately. Nee–san must have kept you up with their stories, no?”

Shoko groaned, slamming her phone face-down on the table. “I hate both of you.”

“No, you don’t.” Satoru said, leaning over to peek at her phone. “So, what did they say? Are they confessing their undying love yet?”

Shoko shoved him away, her cheeks flushing. “None of your business.”

Suguru chuckled softly, leaning back in his chair. “You know, I’m happy for you, Shoko. Nee–san deserves someone good, and so do you. So, if my sister ends up with someone, I’d be happy if it was you. You’re good when you want to be, after.”

Shoko blinked, caught off guard by the sincerity in his tone. Shoko really hadn’t expected that from her friend. He was overprotective over his elder sister.  So, she had expected to. But Suguru only smiled and wished her the best. 

“Thanks, Suguru.” she muttered, her voice softer than usual. “That means a lot.”

Gojo Satoru clapped his hands together dramatically. “Oh, this is too sweet! I’m gonna cry. Someone hand me a tissue.”

Shoko threw a pen at him. “Shut up before I exorcize you.”

But despite her protests, she couldn’t help the small smile tugging at her lips as her phone buzzed again. She’d never admit it out loud, but Gojo and Suguru were right—she was falling for you more every day.

══════════════════

SHE HADN’T EXPECTED THIS. The news hit Ieiri Shoko like a thunderbolt. It wasn’t just shocking; it was disorienting, cutting through the quiet rhythm of her evening like an unexpected slap. She stood frozen, her fingers slack, causing the glowing ember of her cigarette to slip through her grasp and sizzle faintly against the wet, dark pavement.

Her usually composed face betrayed her emotions for once—eyes wide with disbelief, her brows knitting together in a rare show of genuine confusion. The faint glow of a nearby streetlamp caught the slight tremor in her lips as she spoke, her voice low and disbelieving.

"What do you mean they’ve been expelled from Kyoto Jujutsu High?" she repeated, as though saying it aloud would make the statement less surreal.

The words hung heavily in the air between you both. Shoko's thoughts were already racing. There were too many questions blooming as quickly as they were silenced by her instinctive understanding that there was more to this story than she knew. Kyoto Jujutsu High wasn’t known for rash decisions, especially not ones involving someone like you.

“What?” she exclaimed, with such a concern on her face. “Geto, this can’t be real!”

Suguru sighed, rubbing his temples as he delivered the news. He looked just as concerned. “Apparently, nee–san got into a fight with a higher-up.”

Gojo Satoru didn’t look too bothered. He was lounging casually in a chair grinning like a mischievous cat. “Not just any fight—they decked the guy. Apparently, he was being rude to one of their upperclassmen. Because their senpai's refusing to send out one of the injured underclassmen to the field again. And they didn’t take it well.”

Shoko’s heart dropped. “They... what? They’re going to be a civilian now?”

Suguru nodded, his expression weary. “That’s the official line from the higher ups. Nee–san’s being expelled and cut off from jujutsu society entirely. Honestly, I get it, but—”

“Get it?!” Shoko snapped, standing up. “That’s insane. They didn’t do anything wrong!”

“Technically, nee–san broke the rules.” Suguru said, his tone placating. “But I’ll admit, it’s harsh. Nee-san’s not the first student to lose their temper over something like this. The kid’s going to die if nee–san didn’t step in.”

“Harsh? It’s ridiculous!” Shoko ran a hand through her hair, trying to process what this meant. If you were expelled, you’d go back to civilian life. No more cursed energy training, no more missions. And worst of all—no more being together.

“I can’t believe this. This is so stupid.” she muttered, sitting down heavily. “They’re going to disappear.”

“Disappear?” Satoru interrupted, his grin widening. “Who said anything about disappearing?”

Shoko blinked. “What are you talking about, Gojo?”

Satoru leaned back in his chair, his signature smirk firmly in place. “Let’s just say I pulled a few strings. Do you really think I’d let Suguru’s nee-san—and your big fat crush, soon to be lover—get kicked to the curb? Please. You should never underestimate who I am.”

“What did you do, Satoru?” Suguru asked, narrowing his dark purple eyes. “Please tell me it’s nothing stupid.”

Satoru waved a hand dismissively. “Oh, nothing major. Just convinced a few people that expelling your nee–san was a waste of talent. They’ll be transferring here instead.”

“Satoru, you did what?”

“What? I did nothing wrong!” Satoru argues, a pout on his lips. “It’s not my fault they cower and listen to my words really fast!”

Shoko’s jaw dropped. “Wait…..This means then…..they’re coming here?”

Gojo winked. “That’s right. Tokyo Jujutsu High just got itself a new student. Although, they’ll demote them to the first year. So, the newbies will be working with them. But the best news is that Suguru’s nee–san stays with us!”

Hearing the news was like a weight lifting off Shoko’s chest. Relief flooded her, followed by an uncharacteristic wave of excitement. You’d be coming to Tokyo. You’d be closer. And you wouldn’t have to give up your life as a jujutsu sorcerer.

Suguru, on the other hand, looked less impressed. If anything, he looked more stressed out than ever before. “So, what’s the catch? You don’t do favors without an ulterior motive, Satoru.”

“Catch?” Satoru said, feigning innocence. “No catch. Just being my usual amazing self. Though...” He leaned in with a grin. “Maybe now Shoko won’t be moping around all day texting her new Kyoto girlfriend.”

“Shut up, Gojo. Oh my god.” Shoko muttered, though her blush betrayed her.

“Hey, Suguru gave you his approval! Take the step, they like you too!”

The next morning came with a mixture of dread and resignation. As you trudged towards Tokyo Jujutsu High, your mind oscillated between embarrassment and a faint flicker of relief. At least this mess had one upside: you’d get to see your brother Suguru more often—and Shoko too.

When you finally arrived at the gates, the sight awaiting you almost made you turn around and head home. There they were, your welcoming committee: Ieiri Shoko, casually leaning against the gatepost with a cigarette dangling from her lips.

Your brother Suguru, arms crossed, looking amused and intrigued all at once; and, of course, Gojo Satoru, sunglasses perched on his nose, holding a handmade sign that read: “Welcome Back, Loser!” in bright glittery letters.

"Finally!" Gojo called out dramatically, waving the sign like a flag. "I was starting to think you got expelled again just walking here."

Shoko rolled her eyes and exhaled a cloud of smoke, but you caught the hint of a smirk tugging at her lips. “Took you long enough. Thought we’d have to send out a search party.”

Suguru’s expression was softer—teasing, but warm. "So, how does it feel being demoted? Does it sting less knowing you’ll be stuck with us now?"

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. "Please, can we not call it 'demoted'?”

“Oh, but it’s perfect, isn't it?” Gojo interjected, slinging an arm around your shoulders. “A whole extra year of us tormenting you! And by ‘us,’ I mean mostly me.”

"Speak for yourself, Gojo." Shoko quipped, flicking her cigarette into a nearby ashtray. “I’m just here to enjoy the show. And maybe your suffering... a little.”

Her eyes twinkled mischievously, but the corners of her mouth softened, betraying a hint of fondness. Despite their teasing, there was an undeniable warmth in their presence. This wasn’t just punishment—it was a chance to start fresh, closer to the people who mattered most. You straightened up, brushing off the weight of your earlier shame.

"Okay, okay. I get it. Laugh it up. But let’s see who’s laughing when I outscore all of you this year.”

Gojo threw his head back in mock laughter. “Oh, they’ve already got jokes! This is gonna be fun.”

As you all started walking toward the school, Suguru nudged your shoulder. “Welcome to Tokyo, nee–san. Try not to enjoy being around Satoru too much, okay? You’ll end up with a bad lifestyle!”

“Hey! I am not a bad influence!” Satoru glared at Suguru, who couldn’t stop smirking anyway. “I’m the best one!”

Shoko, walking beside you, added with a sly grin. “But if you do, at least make it entertaining. I’ve got high expectations.”

“Well…I do know one or two.” You grinned back at Shoko. 

“Nee–san, please don’t! I’m a good boy!” Satoru retorted, pouting like a child. 

“Suguru, is he always like this?” You pointed at Satoru.

Suguru sighed. “Unfortunately, nee–san.”

“HAH!? What do you mean unfortunately? Suguru!”

“Now, now.” He continues to smile at her, ignoring Satoru’s tirade before he turns to Shoko. “Okay, let nee–san go and settle everything. Shoko, show my nee–san around!”

“Alright, come with me.” She smiled back at her.

“Thank you for taking care of me.”

“That’s nothing. Welcome to Tokyo!” she said, her tone casual, though the corners of her lips twitched into a small smile.

You grinned back at her, throwing your bag over your shoulder. “Good to see you again, Shoko.”

Her heart skipped a beat, but she played it cool. “You’re stuck here now, so don’t make me regret letting Gojo pull those strings for you.”

“Letting him?” you teased, raising an eyebrow. “I’m pretty sure he didn’t need your permission.”

“Don’t push it now.” she replied, but her smile softened.

You smile back at her. “Oh, what a challenge.”

The female dorms were on the other side of the main gate. So, Shoko took her time introducing you to the whole building. It’s a bit more modern than Kyoto Jujutsu High, and perhaps even more breathable than most.

You should have joined Tokyo from the beginning, you like to think. At least there, no one would have been breathing down your neck about everything and anything. 

The rest of the school was cloaked in quiet, save for the rhythmic hum of grasshoppers and the occasional distant laughter of upperclassmen still lingering outside. They must be going on a mission, watching them gather supplies at one of the weapon stores. 

You both walked a bit more before you both reached the dorms. Shoko guided you to the female dorms, her steps unhurried, her cigarette faintly glowing in the dim light. She handed you your key and you thanked her. For once, she wasn’t rushing. She wasn’t deflecting. She was just… here. Enjoying your company. 

"You’ll be in this room. Just next to mine." she said, pushing open the door with a faint creak. The space was modest but clean, the faint scent of freshly polished wood lingering in the air. “It’s not exactly luxury, but it beats Kyoto’s dorms, doesn’t it?”

You nodded, setting down your bag with a relieved sigh. “Honestly, I don’t care where I sleep right now. I just want to survive tomorrow’s lectures and the scrutiny of it all.”

Shoko chuckled softly, leaning against the doorframe. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure Gojo doesn’t derail everything. Well, I’ll try—no promises.”

But as she watched you unpack a few essentials, she felt something shift inside her. It was subtle, like the way dawn crept into the night—quiet, yet unmistakable. She hadn’t realized how heavy the silence around her had been until now. 

With you here, it felt lighter, less suffocating. Shoko had always been fine being alone, or so she thought. But this? This felt better. Her thoughts were interrupted later when she returned to the common area, only to find Satoru and Suguru waiting for her like mischievous foxes who’d just sniffed out a secret.

She glares. “Why the hell are you guys here again? It’s the female dorm building!”

“Just wanted to go and help nee–san clean up.” Suguru says in his defense. “My nee–san’s a germaphobe.”

You sighed, rubbing the back of your neck. You become flustered. “Sugu, I would have called you about it.”

“I know, I know. But it would get done quicker. And I know how you like it.” He smiles at his elder sister and then at Shoko, who seems to be annoyed that her time with you was broken. “Sorry if we came by this quickly.”

“It’s fine.” You smiled at your brother and then at Satoru. “Come in.”

“Hey, Shoko.” Satoru started, leaning casually against the arm of the couch. His grin was far too smug to mean anything good. “You’ve been awfully chipper today. Something you wanna share with the class?”

Suguru smirked, arms crossed as he added, “It’s almost like you’re… happy or something. Suspiciously happy.”

Shoko didn’t even flinch. She calmly lit another cigarette and exhaled a plume of smoke with an almost zen-like air. “Wow, groundbreaking observation. Maybe I’m just relieved the dorms didn’t burn down while you two were around.”

“Uh-huh.” Satoru pressed, leaning in closer, his sunglasses slipping down his nose. “Or maybe you’re just glad someone else is here to put up with us.”

Suguru raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth quivering upward. “You’ve been downright pleasant, Shoko. What’s the occasion?”

Normally, she’d roll her eyes, deliver a sarcastic retort, and walk away, but this time, she surprised herself. She looked at you, but you had your back turned to check on your bathroom. She grinned at the two of them.

“Maybe I am.” she said simply, her voice soft but firm.

The boys blinked, clearly expecting more resistance.

Satoru recovered first, his grin widening. “Oh, this is gonna be fun. She does have feelings!”

Suguru chuckled, shaking his head. “Don’t push your luck, Satoru.”

Shoko just took another drag from her cigarette, smirking faintly. Their teasing didn’t bother her tonight, not when it came from a place of familiarity and care. Because for the first time in a long while, Ieiri Shoko didn’t feel so alone. And even if she’d never admit it aloud, she knew it was because of you.

You came out of the bathroom. “You know, I think we should get some dinner. So on the way, we can go and get cleaning supplies.”

“Alright, alright. I know the best place!” Satoru says, taking out his phone. “Let me get a driver here.”

You looked at Suguru, confused. “Do we need a car?”

Suguru smiled at you. “Let him be, nee-san. He likes small pleasures of us commoners.”

Ieiri Shoko sighed.

It’s going to be a long night. 

But at least, she'll be with you.

══════════════════

DAYS WERE PASSING BY WAY TOO QUICKLY. Adjusting to life at Tokyo Jujutsu High wasn’t without its challenges—for both you and Shoko. You were repeating your first year, waiting for the other incoming students to arrive, which left you with a lot of free time around the dorms. And as much as Shoko tried to focus on her responsibilities, your presence made it nearly impossible.

You were, in Shoko’s mind, too beautiful for her own sanity. Every morning, you’d greet her in the dorm hallway, always looking effortlessly stunning. A white oversized shirt seemed to be your go-to, and Shoko could never help but notice the lack of a bra beneath it. Your long hair, still slightly messy from sleep, flowed freely, catching the soft morning light.

“Morning, Shoko!” you’d say brightly, your voice warm and cheerful as you padded barefoot past her toward the kitchen.

Shoko, leaning against the wall with a cup of coffee, would nod, trying desperately to maintain her composure. “Morning, morning.” she’d reply, her voice as nonchalant as she could make it. But inside, her thoughts were anything but calm.

Are you doing this on purpose?

Then there were the days you decided to dress up a little more, usually when you ventured outside or had meetings with Yaga to discuss your uniform adjustments. You’d toss on a cute mini-skirt paired with some casual top, and Shoko had to fight the urge to openly gawk. The skirts suited you far too well, and she found herself glancing a little too long when you weren’t looking.

“You’re staring at them too much, Shoko.” Satoru teased one day, catching her mid-gaze as you walked across the courtyard in your mini-skirt and go-go boots.

“Shut up.” Shoko muttered, sipping her coffee with a forced air of indifference.

“Can’t blame you, though.” Satoru said with a smirk. “They do look good.”

Shoko shot him a death glare, but it didn’t matter. She couldn’t argue with him.

“Hey, hey….can you not talk about my nee–san like that in front of me?” Suguru frowns as he downs his coffee. “Too early for this.”

And that, Ieiri Shoko can agree with him too.

But she can’t help it either way too, her eyes rising back up.

You looked too good, ever so good that she wants to eat you whole.

That wasn’t the only time. If anything, it was only the beginning. One lazy afternoon, you strolled into the common area wearing yet another oversized shirt—this time paired with short shorts that barely peeked out beneath the hem. You flopped onto the couch next to Shoko, your long legs stretching out as you scrolled absentmindedly on your phone.

Shoko glanced at you briefly, trying not to focus on how close you were. “Waiting for Yaga–sensei to get back to you about the uniform again?” she asked, keeping her tone casual.

You sighed dramatically. “Yeah. I just want something comfortable, you know? But also cute. I’m tired of the basic uniforms.”

Shoko smirked slightly. “Cute, huh? Isn’t the point of a uniform that it’s... uniform?”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Oh, come on, Shoko. Life’s too short to not look good while fighting curses.”

She chuckled, shaking her head. “Fair enough.”

For a moment, the two of you sat in comfortable silence, and Shoko allowed herself to relax. But then you turned to her, resting your chin on your hand. “You’ve been really kind to me, you know.” you said softly, your eyes meeting hers. “I’m glad I ended up here.”

Shoko’s breath caught for just a second. “It’s nothing,” she replied, a little too quickly. “You’re family to Suguru. That makes you family to me.”

You smiled at her, warm and sincere. “Still, thanks.”

As you returned to your phone, Shoko leaned back, trying to suppress the fluttering in her chest. Every day with you felt like a dream—one she never wanted to wake up from. 

Ah, she thinks to herself. I really am in love with you.

══════════════════

SHE CAN’T HELP BUT FEEL THIS WAY. Lately, Shoko had been feeling... off. She’d always been good at brushing things aside, compartmentalizing, and moving on.

But this was different. You weren’t around as much anymore, and it wasn’t even your fault. It was just the life of a Jujutsu sorcerer.

Between missions with Nanami and Haibara—your new classmates who Shoko grudgingly admitted seemed like good people and the way Suguru and Satoru always managed to monopolize your time, there wasn’t much left for the quiet moments she had come to treasure.

At first, she told herself it didn’t matter. You were busy. That was life at Jujutsu High. Everyone had their own path, their own responsibilities. But that logical voice in her head was steadily drowned out by the gnawing feeling in her chest.

Jealousy wasn’t something Shoko indulged in often, but here it was, creeping in and making her unreasonably annoyed at things that shouldn’t matter.

She missed the late-night chats, the way you’d flop onto the dorm couch after a long day and fill the silence with stories, complaints, or even just your presence. And now? Now it felt like you were slipping through her fingers.

That’s why, when she caught sight of you one evening by the dorm entrance, her heart skipped a beat. Who would have thought that fate would surmise that both of you were going to smoke here today. She could feel her heart pounding against her chest faster as she approached you.

You looked exhausted, your uniform slightly wrinkled, a faint smudge of dirt on your cheek. Yet somehow, you still looked radiant, your hair catching the faint light from the hallway. Shoko froze for a moment, torn between her usual nonchalance and the strange surge of emotion threatening to bubble over.

“Didn’t know you smoked.” she said casually as she stepped outside, lighting her own. 

You turned to her with a small smile, blowing out a plume of smoke. “Don’t tell Suguru. He worries too much about me.”

Shoko chuckled. “My lips are sealed.” She reached into her pocket but frowned. “Forgot my lighter.”

You held up your empty hands. “Didn’t bring mine either. I’m sorry.”

For a moment, you both stood there, the soft sounds of the night filling the silence. The silence somehow felt awkward. And that was the first time this ever happened. But well, there was a first time for everything. But Shoko didn’t like it. And neither did you.

You take a moment to look at her, as though to study her face. There was disappointment in the corner of Shoko’s eyes. She must have been just as stressed out too. And a smoke was her release.

You purse your lips into a flat line, tightening your lips against the smoke. You closed your eyes, as though to gather courage. Then, without a word, you stepped closer to her. Shoko froze as you closed the distance, your movements slow and deliberate.

“Come here.” you murmured, your cigarette still against your lips.

Before she could react, you leaned in, pressing your body gently against hers to steady yourself. The faint warmth of your skin seeped through your shirt, and Shoko’s breath hitched.

Your eyes, calm and unreadable, locked onto hers as you tilted your head slightly to angle the glowing tip of your cigarette towards her own, locked against her lips.

The moment seemed to stretch into eternity. Shoko’s bright brown eyes widened slightly, her usual composure slipping as she focused on the heat between you.

The warmth of your cigarette lighting hers, the closeness of your body, and the intensity of your gaze. Everything about it was something Shoko wasn’t prepared for.

“There, it’s lit.” you said softly, pulling back just enough to blow out a trail of smoke.

Shoko exhaled slowly, both to test her lit cigarette and to steady her suddenly racing heart. Her face is redder than before. Shoko did not expect it at all. How could she? You acted rather meek and different.

Even if you meet her cheekiness, she never expected that you would be so straigh forward and cool about it. You smiled at her, continuing to smoke soon after, the smoke blowing through the cold winter air. She clears her throat, trying to stay calm.

“Thank you.” she manages, her voice steady but quieter than usual.

“No problem.” you said with a small smile, stepping back to your spot. You leaned against the railing, the cool night breeze rustling your hair.

Shoko took a long drag from her cigarette, her eyes lingering on you as you stared out into the night. For someone so effortlessly chaotic during the day, you had a calmness about you in moments like this, a stillness that drew her in like a magnet.

“Didn’t take you for the jealous type, Shoko.” you said suddenly, breaking the silence.

Shoko nearly choked. “What?”

You smirked, glancing over at her. “You’ve been avoiding me lately. I figured you were mad about something.”

She raised an eyebrow, trying to play it cool. “I’m not mad. Just busy.”

“Busy, huh?” you teased, your tone light but knowing.

Shoko rolled her eyes, taking another drag to mask her growing flustered state. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

But the truth was, she was jealous. Jealous of the time you spent with everyone else, jealous of how effortlessly you seemed to fit in everywhere. And after that moment, so close she could feel your breath—Ieiri Shoko realized something else.

She wasn’t just jealous about it all.

She was falling even faster, even harder.

And you noticed every bit of it from her.

The night was quiet, the cicadas the only witnesses to the two of you standing outside the dorms. Shoko leaned against the wall, exhaling a slow, practiced plume of smoke, her usual unbothered air firmly in place.

You, on the other hand, had been gearing up for this moment all day. The cigarette between your fingers was barely lit now, more for show than anything else. Taking one last drag, because it felt dramatic, you plucked it from your lips and turned to her with an almost too-casual smirk.

“Hey, Shoko.” you began, your voice low, deliberately smooth. “Can I say something?” 

She glanced over, one eyebrow quivering in mild curiosity. “Hmm? About what?”

“I like you. Wanna make out?”

“Huh?”

For a second, Ieiri Shoko froze. And then it happened: she sucked in sharply at the wrong moment, and her cigarette turned traitor. She coughed—no, she hacked—doubling over as smoke puffed out like she was a malfunctioning chimney.

“WHAT?” she rasped, her voice half an octave higher than usual, her face rapidly turning the color of a ripe tomato.

You, far too pleased with yourself, stepped closer, arms crossed and smirking like you’d just won the lottery. “You heard me. I said, I like you. Wanna make out? Need me to repeat it slower?”

“Don’t,” she wheezed, holding up a hand as she fought to regain her composure. “I heard you the first time, you idiot!”

But her reaction was gold. For all her usual coolness, Shoko looked genuinely flustered, her cigarette forgotten as she glared at you with wide eyes. The sight alone was enough to make you laugh—not mockingly, but with genuine affection.

“C’mon, you’re cute when you’re embarrassed,” you teased, leaning just a little closer.

She recovered quickly, though, because of course she did. Shoko straightened up, tossing her cigarette to the ground with a flick of her wrist and stepping into your space.

“You’re lucky I don’t deck you for that.” she said, her voice a little rough but her lips twitching like she was trying not to smile.

“Uh-huh.” you replied, meeting her gaze without backing down. “But you don’t want to, do you?”

Her eyes narrowed, and for a second, you thought she might actually slap you. But instead, Shoko surprised you. She grabbed you by the collar, pulling you down to her level in one quick motion. You slyly smiled at her, almost like a fox. Your purple eyes meeting her own.

“You’re insufferable.” she muttered—and then she kissed you.

The kiss was warm, soft, and a little fierce, like she was trying to prove a point. You blinked, momentarily stunned, but quickly melted into it, your hands finding her waist as you kissed her back with equal enthusiasm. 

You pushed even harder, your palms pulling her face closer as your tongue pierced through. She moans against your lips, meeting your challenge as you both end up resting against the wall of the dorms.

Both of you didn’t care about what happened next or if people caught you both. It felt good to make out like this. It’s good to have desires about each other like this. When you finally broke apart, her cheeks were still flushed, but her signature smirk was back in full force.

“There. Happy now?”

You grinned, your confidence bolstered by the way she was still holding onto your collar. “Very. Wanna do it again?”

Shoko rolled her eyes, the very picture of exasperation, but the slight tug on your collar betrayed her. Her fingers lingered there, warm and steady, as though letting go wasn’t even a consideration. She wants to taste more of you too. She wasn’t done with you, not just yet.

“You’re so annoying, you know that?” she muttered, but there was no bite to her words—just the faintest waver that gave her away. “Just like your brother.”

“Yeah, but you like me anyway.” you teased, your grin growing wider than before. "More than my brother."

“Don’t push it.” she shot back, but her smirk was impossible to hide. 

And before you could come up with another witty retort, she silenced you with another kiss, this one slower, deeper, and entirely deliberate. The world around you seemed to fade, the distant hum of cicadas blending into the background like a symphony meant just for the two of you. 

Her hands slid from your collar to your shoulders, her touch grounding yet electrifying. You didn’t know how long you stood there, tangled up in each other, but time didn’t seem to matter. Nothing else matters when it comes to loving you well with everything she can.

The world around you seemed to blur, the cicadas fading into the background, the soft hum of the night becoming a distant melody. Her hair smelled faintly of smoke and something floral.

And her hands, usually so clinical and precise, were surprisingly tender as they brushed against your neck. It wasn’t rushed or frantic, just... real. Like the two of you had been waiting for this moment far longer than you’d realized.

When you finally pulled back for air, your foreheads pressed together, both of you breathing a little heavier than before. You smiled at her. Shoko’s face was still flushed, her usual cool composure thoroughly unraveled.

“Well…..” you said, your voice barely above a whisper but laced with satisfaction. “I’d say this went better than expected.”

She huffed a laugh, swatting your shoulder lightly. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

“No promises, Shoko.” you quipped, leaning in again, only for her to place a hand on your chest, stopping you with a mock-serious glare.

“Okay, but if we’re doing this….” she said, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial murmur. “You better not tell Gojo or your brother.”

You snorted. “Oh, sure. Like they won’t figure it out the second they see us together. We’ve been obvious with the will they won’t they, don’t you think?”

Shoko groaned, dragging a hand down her face. “Ugh, they’re going to be unbearable.”

“Probably. They’ll always be annoying.” you agreed with a grin. “But worth it, don’t you think?”

Her eyes softened, the smallest smile tugging at her lips. “Yeah.” she said quietly, almost like she didn’t mean for you to hear it. “Yeah, it’s worth it.”

“Hey, I’ve got to ask.” you began, your tone deliberately playful. “You know, back in my dorm…. I got a new bed. California king. Wanna try how soft it is while making out?”

Ieiri Shoko blinked, and for a split second, she looked genuinely caught off guard. Then, she threw her head back in laughter, the sound light and unrestrained, echoing through the quiet courtyard.

“You are unbelievable, you know that?” she said finally, shaking her head, though the smile tugging at her lips softened the words. “I can’t believe I love such a sly fox.”

That made you pause, your grin morphing into something softer, more genuine. You raised a brow, leaning in just a little closer. “Oh, you love me now? That’s quite the upgrade.”

She rolled her eyes, but the way her fingers lingered on your arm betrayed her. “Of course I do.”

For a moment, you just looked at her, your heart doing a little flip at the way her usual cool exterior had melted away tonight. Then, with a sly smile of your own, you reached for her hand.

“Well then, Shoko....” you said, your voice warm and teasing. “Let’s go see if that California king lives up to the hype.”

This time, she didn’t roll her eyes. Instead, her fingers slipped easily into yours, warm and steady, as if this was where they were always meant to be. The sound of her laughter, rich and unrestrained, danced through the night air as you led her back to your dorm.

The walk wasn’t long, but the teasing was relentless. “I can’t believe you’re this smug,” she said, though her cheeks were still flushed, her eyes bright with amusement.

“Oh, I’ve earned it,” you shot back, glancing over your shoulder with a grin. “And wait until you see the bed. You’ll be impressed. Trust me.”

By the time you reached the door, Shoko was already laughing again, her free hand pressing against her mouth to stifle the sound. But the moment you unlocked the door and stepped inside, all pretense of restraint was gone.

The second the door clicked shut, you pulled her in, her laughter bubbling up again as you stumbled backward together. You both giggle against each other warmly. 

“You’re really not wasting any time, huh?” she teased, but her arms looped easily around your neck, her body leaning into yours.

“Not when it’s you, baby.” you murmured, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face before capturing her lips in a kiss.

Her laugh melted into a soft sigh as her hands slid down your back, and from there, the rest of the night became a blur of warmth and closeness. You kissed her until your lips ached, your hands tracing lazy, teasing patterns along her arms, her back, anywhere you could reach. 

And Shoko? She was louder than you’d ever imagined—not just her voice but her reactions, the way she laughed against your mouth when you tickled her side, the way she gasped when your fingers grazed the sensitive spots she hadn’t realized were there.

“Quiet, huh?” you teased at one point, grinning as she smacked your shoulder lightly.

“Shut up. You’re too sly with this.” she muttered, her voice breathless but full of humor. “You’re the one making me like this.”

“All me, huh?”

“Don’t get used to it.” she shot back, but the smirk tugging at her lips betrayed her.

The California king bed, as promised, lived up to the hype—spacious and comfortable, it became a playground for stolen kisses and tangled limbs. The two of you didn’t bother pretending this was anything but indulgence, letting the hours slip by as you explored the newfound closeness between you.

For once, there was no need for pretense or restraint. There was just her, and you, and the quiet freedom of the empty dorm building. By the time the early hours of morning began to creep in, it was still pretty dark. Ieiri Shoko was sprawled across the bed, her hair a mess, her lips swollen from too many kisses. Of course, a lot of love bites. 

You were no better, shirt slightly open as you lay on the side of the bed. Sweat was still permeating throughout your body, your dark hair in a tangled mess. It was as long as Suguru’s own hair, but perhaps darker than his own hair. You wanted to tie it up, but you were a bit more exhausted. 

You run your hands through her hair as you lean forward to kiss her once again. She moaned as she kissed you back again. She surrendered rather quickly about that too. And that had made your grin more smug than before. Both of you part away from one another, but still remain close, skin to skin.

“Remind me to thank everyone for being out all throughout, okay?” you said, your voice low and playful, breaking the comfortable quiet of the room. Shoko, sprawled lazily against your chest, let out a soft, tired laugh, her breath warm against your skin.

“I’ll buy gift packs for them.” you added with a grin, the thought clearly ridiculous but fully committed to your usual dramatic flair.

“You’re ridiculous about this.” she replied, shaking her head, though the warmth in her tone made it clear she didn’t mean it. Her fingers idly traced circles on your arm, and her lips curved into a soft smile as she glanced up at you.

“You don’t have to do it.” she said, her voice quieter now, like the intimacy of the moment had softened the sharp edges of her usual sarcasm.

“Hmm?” You tilted your head, raising a brow. “Why not?”

She rolled her eyes, that familiar exasperation laced with fondness, but before she could reply, you leaned in closer, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face.

“I liked being able to make you feel good without people complaining.” you said, your tone surprisingly earnest beneath the teasing grin.

Her face flushed again, a faint pink dusting her cheeks as she looked away, her lips twitching as though trying not to laugh. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“Maybe, maybe.” you said, letting your grin soften into something more genuine. “But you didn’t seem to mind.”

Shoko let out a breathy laugh, burying her face against your chest for a moment. “I hate that you’re right about that.” she muttered, though the way her arms tightened around you betrayed just how much she didn’t mean it.

“I’m always right.” you teased, earning a playful shove from her.

“Don’t push your luck.”

The two of you fell into a comfortable silence after that, her hand still lazily tracing patterns on your arm, your own fingers gently brushing through her hair. The warmth between you was palpable, the kind of connection that didn’t need words to fill the spaces.

Eventually, she spoke again, her voice softer this time. “You’re ridiculous. But... thanks.”

“For what?”

“For this, all of it.” she murmured, gesturing vaguely at the two of you tangled together. “For making me feel... cared for and loved.”

Your grin widened, your chest swelling just a little at her words. “Anytime, Shoko. Anytime. You’re my girl now, aren’t you? I’ll always make you feel good and cared for, okay?”

Shoko smiled back at you, her cheeks turning warm scarlet. “Okay. Look forward to the same from me, okay? Since you’re mine now.”

“Then I’ll leave myself in your care.” You giggled, happily. Shoko adored that. 

And for the first time that night, you both fell into a quiet, peaceful stillness, her smile lingering long after her eyes closed, content in a way neither of you had felt in a long time. Ieiri Shoko will let this live in her mind for a long, long time. 

She rolled over, resting her head on your shoulder, her fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns on your chest. No complaints. No awkwardness.

Just the two of you, lucky in the quiet glow of the darkness, enjoying each other in every way you could. Both of you were just happy. 

[dollwrites]

𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ��� smut ( minors dni ), fem!sorcerer!reader, rough sex, orgasm denial, sukuna’s mean, begging, degradation, pussy spanking, suggested noncon prior to the beginning of the fic, name calling ( brat, whore, bitch ), dacryphilia, all characters featured are aged 18+

𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁 ∣ please reblog && leave feedback. not proofread so there’s probably mistakes. thanks for reading < 3

𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗸𝘁𝗼𝗯𝗲𝗿 𝟮𝟬𝟮𝟯 ∣ day six [ sukuna ryomen ( megumi ) + orgasm denial ]

“W-wait, please— fuck!!”

another howl of disapproval tears from your throat as the King of Curses pushes you off of his cock, again. your body trembles and twitches; your used cunt trying to clench around air and hold on to the orgasm that you’d been right on the cusp of.

“Let me…” you’re panting, trying to stabilize your weight on your scuffed-up knees, but the muscles in your body had all but turned to gelatin after hours of relentless fucking. “Let me cum…” it’s an attempt to demand, to sound tougher than you were, but you sound pathetic and weak, pushing your ass back towards the bastardized visage of your best friend.

beyond the curse marks that etched into his complexion, Sukuna Ryomen had twisted Megumi into a monster that you didn’t even recognize. or, perhaps, it was because of the tears blurring your vision or the haze your poor brain had been fucked into. you didn’t know anymore.

“So entitled for a little, fucking whore. You’re not acting like you don’t want this, anymore.” one powerful hand grabs most of your hair at the roots in a tight vice and pushes you forward, smearing your face into the floor, and he hunches over you. you squirm and whine, but not from the screaming pain in your scalp or the taste of blood in your mouth, but because you could feel his cock, hard and throbbing, as it rubs against your ass cheeks when he hunches forward. his body is on fire against yours, smearing sweat from his broad chest across your shoulder blades. “A few hours ago you were trying to kill me, screaming for me to stop, and trying to threaten me, and now you’re yipping for my cock like a wild animal. Begging to be mounted. Cum-hungry. You’re an easy one to break.”

“Go to hell,” you groaned, but you still writhed, winding your hips in an attempt to convince him to push back inside.

“I’m taking you with me.” he retorts with a raspy chuckle, before doing just that— and none too gently. with a forceful thrust, every inch of solid cock and pulsating vein barrels through your spongy canal, filling you to the brim and knocking the wind out of your lungs, before he uses his free hand to dig his digits into your fleshy hip and fall into the same, brutal rhythm he’s been decimating you with. you mewl and clamor to hold on to something. your nails scrape against the tiles on the floor, some of them chipping into jagged edges as your eyes roll back. “You know that, don’t you, brat? You’re damned— you were damned the moment you started to enjoy the way I fuck your helpless, little cunt.” his breath is hot and heavy against the shell of your ear as he ruts against your body, pounding it mercilessly. you try to shake your head, but his grip holds it steady and smeared against the floor and he guffaws, “Don’t think I can’t feel you, whore. Your cunt is sloppy wet, but the harder and faster I fuck you, the more I deny your release, the more frantically your hole squeezes.” your stomach feels like it’s in knots, your climax quickly approaching, and he must’ve felt your body start to tighten and prepare to cum, because he snickers and jerks on your hair tighter. “Just like that,” a low grunt dies in the back of his throat, “you’re already going to try and cum again.”

“Please,” you moan, trying to convince him to allow you release by pleasing him, since begging hasn’t seemed to be working. your ass bounces back to meet his violent thrusting, and the way you squelch and the sound of your wet skin slapping against his fills you with shame. “Please, let me cum! I need— need rest— can’t do this—“

“Greedy bitch.” but you could tell by the way he grinds his jaw when he says it that he likes the way it feels. pulling himself back up on to his knees, Sukuna places both hands on your ass cheeks, which were already sore from his relentless spanking, and he digs his sharp nails in. “What makes you think you deserve it? Because you can take my cock, you think I owe you pleasure or something?” he stills you with his strength, and pulls himself from your abused cavern right as you’ve started to hold your breath and knit your brows, on the edge of your climax, much to your dismay. “You get wet because I abuse your pussy, that’s because you’re filthy, not because I want you to like this.”

“Noooo!” you squeal, deflating like a balloon as he soils yet another orgasm. this time, the sensation slipping away was so intense, that your eyes had begun to water, and you try to look over your shoulder at him, glare daggers up at him for being so cruel, but you find his form, massive and daunting and flushed pink with sparkling sweat trickling over marked skin, too dizzying, and you gawk instead.

Sukuna smirks, wide— red eyes alight with malevolence upon seeing your tears. “Pitiful, aren’t you? Ah, but seeing that look of despair on your face only makes me harder. You want it so badly, it’s almost cute.” he looms over you, pushing on your ass to force your chest back down to the floor, your back arching so your ass sticks higher in the air. your thighs tremble hopelessly, and he enjoys the way you shake and sniffle. “Go ahead and cry, brat. Beg me until your voice goes out. I still won’t let you cum. I love this too much.” grabbing his massive cock at the base, he guides the swollen tip to tease your sticky folds, and for a moment, you try to open up and welcome back inside, regardless of the way your walls ache from the stretch, but he doesn’t force his way back inside. rubbing up and down, he teases your cunt from hole to clit, before slapping the squishy head of his cock against you in rapid-fire spanks.

when you start to squirm and babble, working up the nerve to beg once again to be blessed with an orgasm and relief, he leans closer, his tongue licking a fat stripe from your chin to the apple of your cheek, gathering a mass of salty tears on the buds so that he may taste your anguish. “I’d so much rather watch you suffer.”

[itneverendshere]

hii i love your writing !! so i saw your comment on said it a million times, only stay with you one more night where you said that rafe is catching feelings only to fuck it up all over when he ignores her in public and i was wondering if you could write a second part where that happens ?

hiiii! thank you sm for the compliment and for the request 🫂 Hope you enjoy ❤️

been busy digging out her grave - r.c

pairing: bitchy!pogue!reader x rafe

working at lila’s restaurant was something you usually tried to avoid, but since she was short-staffed today and needed your help, you figured why not? it wasn’t like you had anything better to do. plus, you owed her a favor. so, there you were, tying your apron on in front of the mirror in the back, trying to pep talk yourself into surviving a day dealing with kooks and tourists.

the air inside always smelt of fried food and coffee, the kind that clung to your clothes no matter how many showers you’d take. you slid out from the back, letting the swing door creak behind you as you moved to the counter, mentally preparing yourself to smile at whatever entitled ass came through the door.

it wasn’t until about halfway through your shift, wiping down the counter and refilling coffee cups, that you noticed them. and by them, you mean him. rafe.

you stopped dead in your tracks for a second, the plates hot in your hands. your breath caught in your throat like you’d swallowed an entire lemon. he strolled in with his pack of kook friends like they owned the place—probably felt like they did too. topper, kelce, and a couple of girls whose names you couldn’t be bothered to remember followed him, laughing loudly, taking up space in that obnoxious way only people like them could.

he didn’t even glance in your direction as they settled into one of the corner booths. not even a look of recognition, but you’d told him you were working here for the day.

just last night, he had you pinned against his bed again, telling you, again, how much he wanted you to stay, whispering that shit in your ear.

now? he acted like you were invisible. un-fucking-believable. one minute he was texting you at 2 a.m., asking you to come over, and the next, he was pretending like you didn’t exist. all because he didn’t want his perfect little kook world knowing he was messing around with a pogue. and that was okay before. until he started asking you to stay, and you did.

apparently, you were a fucking idiot because here you were, pissed off that he couldn’t even look you in the eye.

you grabbed the menus, biting back the urge to roll your eyes, and walked over to their table. “here are your menus,” you said flatly, shoving one in each of their faces without the fake cheer you’d reserved for the tourists.

the girls barely acknowledged you, too busy giggling at something topper said. kelce glanced up briefly, offering a half-assed smirk, while rafe kept his eyes locked on the table, fingers playing with the edge of his napkin like he hadn’t spent the last few nights wrapped up in you.

you caught one of the girls whispering something under her breath. “didn’t know they let just anyone work here.”

her name was sloan or something equally forgettable, always draped on topper’s arm like a chanel bag. she didn’t know you, but she knew enough about you to judge. she was wearing sunglasses indoors, for fuck’s sake. the other girl snorted, and you felt your fingers tighten around the pen.

breathe. 

you had half a mind to snap back. if you were outside, on the street or at a party, you would’ve ripped into them without hesitation. you’d read them for filth in a way they wouldn’t forget. but here? in the middle of the restaurant? lila didn’t need you starting shit, and you didn’t need to lose a good payment over some entitled brats.

rafe said nothing. just sat there, tapping his fingers on the table as if you weren’t even standing right there.

you forced a smile. "you guys ready to order?"

and there it was.

he finally looked at you, but it wasn’t how you wanted him to. his eyes slid over you like you were a stranger — not like the girl he’d kissed breathless hours ago, or the one he had been whispering 'stay' to. he looked at you like you were just…some waitress. 

“coffee. black.” his tone was curt, clipped, like he couldn’t stand to speak to you.

you fought the urge to throw the fucking pot at his head.

“coming right up,” you chirped, giving them your best fake grin before spinning away and stalking back to the counter.

you busied yourself with the coffee, pouring it so forcefully you nearly overflowed the cup. unreal. he had the nerve to sit here, in your space, with his little kook posse, pretending like he wasn’t the same guy begging you to stay wrapped up in his sheets. and for what? to keep up his dumb little façade?

you used to be able to ignore it, pretend it didn’t matter because you didn’t care. you were just having fun, right? it was never supposed to be more than that. except, somewhere along the line, it did become more. he’d made it more, pulling you in deeper with every touch, every late-night call. and now, standing here in this sticky-ass diner, staring at his stupid, perfect face as he chatted up some girl who probably didn’t even know your name? it made you want to set the entire place on fire while they were still inside.

you slammed the coffee cup down a little harder than necessary when you returned to their table. “anything else?” you asked sweetly, practically daring him to say something. but of course, he didn’t. just took the cup without even looking at you. typical.

“uh, yeah, can we get some pancakes?” kelce piped up, completely oblivious to the tension radiating off you. “and bacon. like, extra crispy?”

“sure,” you bit out, scribbling it down before turning away. you made your way back behind the counter, slamming the order slip onto the kitchen window with a little more force than needed.

“everything okay, sweetheart?” lila, the owner, called from the back. she was probably picking up on your mood from the way you were practically shaking in irritation. “you look like you’re about to spit in someone’s food.”

you glanced back at the corner booth where rafe sat, laughing now at something topper said. “nope,” you lied through gritted teeth. “just having a great time.”

“mm-hmm,” lila hummed, giving you a skeptical look before disappearing into the back.

you busied yourself by wiping down the counter—again. anything to keep yourself from glaring over there and blowing your cover. because he wasn’t worth it, right? he wasn’t worth losing your cool over in front of a bunch of stuck-up kooks. he was just some guy.

except, some guy didn’t have you falling asleep in his arms one night, then acting like you were nothing the next. ugh. you clenched the rag tighter, scrubbing hard at a nonexistent stain on the counter, gritting your teeth as his laugh rang out again. 

he knew exactly what he was doing. sitting there, ignoring you, acting like you didn’t matter—like you hadn’t been sprawled out on his bed while he kissed his name into your skin.

“girl, you’re gonna break the counter.”

the sound of a familiar voice snapped you out of your spiraling.

you looked up to see your friend phoebe leaning against the entrance, one eyebrow raised. she must’ve popped in on her break or something. great timing. you shot her a look.

“don’t even start,” you muttered, tossing the rag down with a little too much force.

she peeked over her shoulder and rolled her eyes, a scoff escaping her lips. “oh, them,” she said, voice dripping with disdain. “what, rafe can’t keep it in his pants for a whole day?”

“he can’t keep his ego in check.” you crossed your arms, eyes moving over to the corner before you could stop yourself. he still wasn’t looking at you. the way he leaned back in the booth, one arm slung over the backrest, talking to the girl next to him—like he didn’t have a care in the world. like you didn’t exist.

phoebe followed your gaze, her expression turning incredulous. “are you serious right now?” she asked, lowering her voice. “what happened to just hooking up for fun? ‘don’t care what he does when ’m not around,’” she mocked lightly, using your own words against you.

“yeah, well, that was before he started acting like a complete dick,” you shot back, cheeks flushing.

“started?” she snorted, “he’s always been a dick. so have you. you gonna be okay, or am i about to see you dump coffee in his lap?”

the thought was tempting. really tempting. but you forced yourself to shake your head. “’m fine. he’s just… being rafe.” you hated how flat the words sounded. like an excuse. like you were giving him a free pass to treat you like this.

phoebe didn’t look convinced. “uh-huh. well, if you need a distraction, ’m here. want me to spill something on topper’s head? just say the word.”

god, you needed her right now. “as tempting as that sounds, lila would probably kill me. then i’d really owe her more than a shift.”

she shrugged. “worth it. but fine, i’ll behave.” she straightened, sending you a knowing look. “but seriously, babe. don’t let him get to you. rafe cameron’s just a bored little rich boy playing games.”

you knew she was right. of course she was right. but that didn’t stop that feeling from creeping up in your chest. like you’d expected better, even though you knew you shouldn’t have. because this was still rafe. and rafe was never going to be anything but a complication.

“i just…thought maybe…” you trailed off, words sticking in your throat. thought maybe what? that he’d change? that he’d stop being a total asshole just because you were starting to want more?

“yeah, well, stop thinking,” phoebe said bluntly. “he’s not worth it and he’s sucking the personality out of’ya.”

you swallowed hard, nodding. she was right. he wasn’t. and you needed to remember that. but just as you were about to say something, movement caught your eye.

rafe was standing now, making his way to the counter, his long stride unhurried as if he had all the time in the world. 

phoebe stiffened beside you, “you want me to stay?”

“no.” you forced the word out, squaring your shoulders. “i got this.”

“okay.” she gave you one last look before slipping out the door, leaving you alone behind the counter just as rafe stopped in front of you. he stood there, all six feet of arrogance staring down at you with that expression that made your skin crawl.

“can i help you?” you asked, voice dripping with forced politeness. you met his eyes, refusing to back down, even as your heart hammered against your ribs.

he moved, leaning forward just enough to close some of the distance between you. “need the bill,” he said flatly, like he wasn’t currently tearing your already frayed nerves to shreds.

that’s it? the bill?

you’re just the waitress now. wow. this was rafe. rafe, who couldn’t even look at you, who couldn’t acknowledge what the hell was happening between you beyond those late-night calls and tangled sheets.

“of course,” you said sweetly, forcing a smile even though you wanted to scream. “i’ll be right back.” you turned away without another word, fighting the urge to hurl the fucking notepad at his head. you busied yourself at the register, punching in numbers with way more strength than necessary, imagining it was his face.

once you were done, you looked up to see his back was to you as he fished out his wallet, sliding his card into the reader. you kept your face neutral, biting back the million things you wanted to scream at him. the receipt printed out, and he leaned down, scribbling something quickly before straightening up.

and just as you thought he’d turn and leave like nothing had happened; he did something that made you freeze in place. he dropped a couple of crisp bills onto the counter—more than a couple, actually—and then slid the check over to your side without a word.

what the hell?

you blinked, staring at the pile of cash. that was way more than the standard 20%. fuck, it was enough to cover your rent for the next month, let alone one meal’s worth of shitty coffee and bacon. 

“what the fuck is this, country club?” you blurted out. he stilled, eyes snapping up to yours, that mask of indifference slipping just the tiniest bit. “what, trying to buy me off now? think i’ll just smile and say ‘thank you, sir’ because you threw a couple hundred my way?”

“stop,” he muttered, eyes darting around like he was worried someone might hear. “it’s just—”

“no, you don’t get to ‘just’ me,” you hissed over the counter, “you don’t get to pull this shit like you’re being generous.” you shoved the bills back toward him, nostrils flaring. “take your fucking money. i don’t want it.”

but he didn’t move. just stood there, jaw clenched, blue eyes boring into yours. “it’s not—” he cut himself off, scrubbing a hand down his face, looking almost frustrated. “it’s not like that. ’m just trying to—”

“trying to what?” you shot back, “make yourself feel better? or make me shut up and go along with this bullshit like a good little pogue?” the last word dripped with contempt.

he flinched, the reaction so quick you almost missed it. almost. “’m just giving you a tip. it’s what you want, right?” his tone turned biting, “for your work, I mean.”

your mouth dropped open, stunned. “wow. you’re such an asshole, you know that?” you shoved the wad of cash back at him with a force that sent the bills scattering across the counter. “keep it. use it to buy yourself some decency, because clearly, you’re running low.”

his eyes narrowed, but he didn’t say anything, didn’t try to pick up the money. just stood there, jaw ticking, like he couldn’t decide whether to fight back or walk away. it made you want to scream. you wanted to claw at that cold, emotionless shell of his until something—anything—broke through.

“you’re overreacting,” he muttered. and that was it. just those three stupid, dismissive words.

overreacting? after everything?

“get out,” you said flatly, hands shaking. “get the hell out.”

without another word, he turned on his heel and walked out of the restaurant, leaving the crumpled bills scattered across the counter like the mess of your emotions. the door swung shut behind him, the bell chiming softly. you stood there, chest heaving, heart pounding so hard it felt like it might crack your chest right open. and for a second, you almost reached out, almost scooped up the cash just to throw it at his retreating back. but you didn’t.

instead, you swiped the bills off the counter, crumpling them up into a tight fist and then, with a furious exhale, you chucked the whole wad into the trash can.

because if rafe thought he could buy your silence, your compliance, you, with a handful of cash, then he didn’t know a fucking thing about you at all.