#this little voice in his head that makes it so scary to be real with her about his regrets

[nanaslutt]

Ok so I was thinking about soul swap (??) With gojo. Gojo doing🫣 stuff to his body in which readers soul is from readers body. Or can have reader doing stuff with her body..hope u understand kinda high rn. 😵‍💫😵‍💫

Body swap with Gojo

contains: fem reader, masturbation (m&f), reader & Gojo’s perspectives, perv!gojo & reader, multiple orgasms, “first orgasm” (experienced as the opposite sex), dirty talk, teasing, mutual pining

MDNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

"Gojo this is fucking serious!" You yelled, still getting caught off guard when Satoru's voice could be heard in your ears even though you were the one talking. "Okay okayy, I'll text Ijichi to come to get us, relax your little head." He responded in your voice. This whole thing was so fucked up. The two of you were fighting some curse together-- Gojo had no real reason to be there but he insisted on it for "safety reasons" (he was bored). You had gotten hit once by the curse right before you finished it off, and nothing strange had happened until Gojo came up to you and laid his hand on your shoulder to make sure you were alright, and that's when it happened—the soul swap.

Gojo pulled out his phone and held it out in front of himself, waiting for the face ID to scan him in. The man that currently resided in your body shook the device, frustrated. "Oh, this fuckin'..." He gave up, typing in his password as the device buzzed again and again, refusing to let him in. His antics made you giggle, turning your head to the side you sniffed to conceal any laughter he might pick up before you went back to watching him call for help.

"Ijichi? Heyyy, little problem~" Your higher-pitched voice reverberated through his speaker, no doubt confusing the poor overworked man on the other end. "Why do I have Gojo's phone? Funny you ask.." Gojo went on to pace around the area, throwing your hands up in the air as he explained the situation to Ijichi. You took the opportunity to look down at your temporary body, running your hands down the sides of Gojo's massive coat, which actually fit him. You felt the hardness underneath his clothes, pouting your bottom lip out in surprise, you figured Gojo would be fit, but you never knew for certain.

You had been a teacher at Jujutsu High for as long as he had, and the two of you had gotten quite close—which is why you didn't put up a fight when he insisted on coming on this mission with you, now you were starting to regret your decision. "Checkin' out my body while I was callin' for help? Perv~" Gojo teased, blocking your body off in a cross with his arms dramatically as he spoke. "Don't flatter yourself Satoru, you had something on your jacket." You lied through your teeth.

"It feels weird to hear my own voice chastise myself.." He pouts, placing a hand on his hip. "Yeah, well it doesn't feel great to see you flaunting around in my body either." You respond, holding a dejected look on Satoru's features that he probably has never made in his life. "Oh? you don't like me inside you?" He teased, covering his mouth as he giggled mischievously. "Please don't say gross things in my voice," you responded, rolling your eyes as you started to make your way out of the run-down building so Ijichi could see the two of you from the street.

"You're so serious~" He teased, using your shorter legs to run up to you and wrap himself around your arm, leaning your head against his arm as the two of you walked. "Also why did you not tell me you had to pee so bad." He said, making you choke on your own spit as you stopped in your pursuit of the road. "You are not under any circumstances going to piss while you're in my body." You emphasized, making a point to look into his eyes when you spoke.

"Why? Don't want me to see your cunt? heh." He laughed, once again using his filthy mouth to defile your voice. "What do you think Satoru?" You said, deadpanning at him. "Ahh~ you make my face look so scary~" He teased, curling your body up to his own arm once more as the two of you pushed forth towards society once more.

Once Ijichi's car, and the anxious man himself, came into view, you pushed the body that was clinging too tightly to your arm off of you. "Are you two alright?" He asked, coming up to your body. "Oh, Ijichi ~ you're such a caring man~ why don't you-" "That Gojo Ijichi, don't forget.' You reminded, looking blankly down at the dark-haired man, who had started to blush at your words. After an apology from the nervous man, and a quick slap to your body's shoulder that made Gojo whine through his laugh, the two of you got into the car.

The drive had started off with more shenanigans from Gojo in your body, trying to fluster Ijichi, which you quickly shut down by slapping Gojo's large hand over your own mouth. After that though, the drive started to quiet down, the three of you falling into a comfortable silence save for the radio playing some generic song in the background to fill the void. You noticed Gojo had started to bounce his leg in your body, peeking out the corner of your eye you saw your head was tipped back on the headrest, your eyes were squeezed shut, and your lip was pulled between your teeth; you looked like you were in pain.

"Gojo." You whispered, making him drop his chin and look at you, before he smiled through the uncomfortably, "I wasn't lying about needing to-" You quickly cut him off, waving his hands in front of you, "I know, I know." You said, before heaving out a sigh, "This fucking suuuuck." You drawled, letting your own head tip back agaisnt the headrest as you heard your own voice giggle at your unfortunate situation.

—

"Satoru hurry!" You yelled, tapping your foot anxiously on the ground as you stood in front of the bathroom door with your arms crossed, waiting for Gojo to finish his business. "Don't rush me! It's hard to pee with a blindfold on you know." He sighed, your voice coming through the door muffled. You had tied Gojo's own pitch-black blindfold over his eyes before you let him go into the bathroom, making sure he couldn't see a thing. You wanted him to leave to door open so you could make sure he really didn't peek, but then you put yourself in his shoes and realized you wouldn't want Gojo to watch while you were.. so you abandoned that thought.

Right before you were about to yell at the man for taking too long again, he opened the door, the blindfold off of your eyes and in your hands. Your face tunred beat red, your jaw dropped and your lungs filled with profanities and curses, ready to spill but- "I took it off to wash my hands captain stick-up-her-ass, relax~" He said, giving you a smug look before he pushed past you and started walking down the hallway. You bit your tongue as you watched your body move down the hall, "Where are you going?" You asked, placing your hands on his hips.

"Well~ I was hoping you could show me to your room because.." He held your hands out in front of him before he gestured to your body, which was covered in dirt, debris, curse blood, you name it. You could feel a headache start to come on, rubbing your fingers against his temple you sighed, realizing he was going to have to take a shower. You followed in his footsteps down the hall as you passed him, leading him to your room. "Thank you~" He cooed, a pep in his step as he followed behind you.

Once you reached your room you gripped your hand on the top of the door as he slipped under your arm and made his way into your room. You were caught off guard for a second, you knew Gojo was big, but you never really realized your size difference until now. Feeling yourself grow hot in the face you quickly snapped yourself out of it as you followed him into your room.

"Ahhhhh~" Gojo moaned in your voice, plopping him and his filthy body down on your pristine sheets. "You have two seconds to get off my bed before I use your own technique to kill you." You said with his deep voice, making him sigh as he reluctantly dropped his legs back down onto the floor and dragged his body off the sheets, standing as he crossed his arms at you. "Im tireddd, you seriously need to work on your stamina." He said, rubbing your thighs with your hands, "This body is exhausted, I feel like I'm going to collapse." He complained.

You ignored his comments as you dug through your drawer, trying to find something sufficient for him to change into. You settled on a pair of shorts and a baggy t-shirt, collecting them under your arm you threw them in his direction, the man skillfully catching them in his hands. "You don't have anything a little sexier?" He said, holding up the ragged band tee in front of him while he tucked the shorts under his arms. "Please." You begged, your eye twitching when you turned to look at him.

"You should probably.." You froze, your face heating up at the words you haven't even spoken yet. "Stop making me look so bashful, it's unbecoming." He said, a face of displeasing spreading itself on your futures. "God- Fuck, please just go take a shower and don't.. don't- don't be weird!" You sputtered, throwing your hands in the air in defeat before you opened the door and stepped aside so he could leave your bedroom and head for the shower rooms. "Yes ma'am~" He cooed, looking up at you through your lashes at you while he walked past you and started down the hallway.

Once he was out of view, you shut your door behind yourself as you slid down the wood dramatically, burring your face in Gojo's massive hands as you tried not to think too hard about what he might see, or what he was going to do with your body.

--

Gojo locked the door to the shower rooms behind him, screw anyone else that needed to wash up he needed to be alone right now. Your pleas and begs to not look at your body too long or be weird with yourself getting thrown out the window when your frame came into view in the full-length mirror that was in the bathroom before the shower stalls. He whistled at what he saw, turning himself around he looked over your shoulder and stared at your ass through the mirror.

Gojo was having the time of his life checking out his new temporary body. He was astonished at how pretty you still managed to look with messed up hair and ruined clothes. He stared intently at your body as he turned back around and started unzipping your jacket slowly, biting his lip when your body clad in a tight black t-shirt came into view. "Fuck, this is insane." Gojo laughed to himself, feeling a familiar yet unfamiliar warmth blossom in your stomach.

He let the jacket drop to the floor before he crossed his arms over your body and gripped the bottom of your shirt as he slowly dragged the fabric up and over your head, a shaky breath escaping your lips when he saw your bare flesh, the top half of your figure only being clad in a bra. "She'll never know." He giggled to himself before he turned around again, slipping your fingers under the hem of your pants he slowly and seductively slid them down your body, the heat in his stomach growing when your pantyclad pussy came into view as he kicked the pants to the side.

"Who knew all I had to do to get you naked was to do it myself." He said, watching himself in the mirror. Fuck, your voice was turning him on. He might be the one in control of your body right now, but the soul residing inside was still Gojo Satoru, the man who got hard watching you stretch your arms over your head before you spared. He turned around and reached his hand behind his back to unclasp your bra, biting his lip and smiling when he felt your tits fall freely in the air.

"Fuck." He wined in your voice, making your body grow wet as he slid the garment off your body and let it join the pile that had built up on the floor. He brought your hands up to your breasts as squished them together, kneading the soft mounds in his hands, pinching your nipples, jiggling them around, he touched and manipulated them in all the ways he could thing, all while he giggled at his own ministrations. "Now to see this cunt~"

--

Back in your room, you were still on the floor, your head had left the confines of your hands as it rested against the door with your eyes shut. You were going over in your head the way you looked from his point of view; how much smaller than him you were, the height difference, his deep voice, how warm his body was, how- what the fuck was that? You swore you felt something twitch in his pants. You dropped your gaze hesitantly to his lap and noticed a large tent was poking up right where his crotch was.

You had got to be joking. While fantasizing in his body, you had accidentally riled yourself up to the point you were sporting a boner? This was unreal. How did it go away? How long would it take? Oh god, why was his pervy body so sensitive? You did notice the familiar warmth in your lower regions, only in this body, instead of almost feeling your arousal throughout your whole body, you felt it more focused on his crotch.

You bit your lip, shutting your eyes as you tipped your head back against the door again. You couldn't stop your mind from wandering back to all the little things you noticed while being in his body, you wanted to stop you really did, you could not be like Gojo, you were not a perv, you were not a hypocrite.. but one look couldn't hurt anything right? Gojo would likely be in the bathroom for a while, he would never know if you just looked at it, right?

With a heavy sigh, you stood up and walked up to your full-length mirror, unzipping his jacket quickly and throwing it on your bed you lifted his shirt up on his body and stared at his insane physique. His abs seemed to glow under the light in your room, and the indents and muscles on his frame seemed to go on forever. How did he manage to stay so fit when he was constantly eating all those sweets? Men..

The bulge his body was sporting in his slacks made the whole view look so much more erotic, you bit your lip, your breath picking up the more you shamelessly gazed at his body in the mirror. You lifted his shirt more to get a view of his rock-hard pecs, a shaky breath leaving his lungs at his long and toned torso completely unobstructed by clothes to your eyes. You had already come this far.. looking a little more wouldn't hurt right? It's not like you were going to touch anything and besides! Gojo was absolutely doing the exact same thing right now.

Although the thought of Gojo checking out your body the way you were doing to him right now made your face heat up, you once again felt that same twitching under his pants. "Ugh, fucking quit that!" You chastised his dick, your face scrunching up in annoyance as you spoke to it.

You slipped his fingers under his waistband, you slid the fabric down lower- his v-line became more visible to you, lower- a white happy trail was exposed, lower- the base of his cock was unveiled as you could now see it throb under your gaze. You slid his pants down to about his mid-thighs, biting your lip as a shaky moan left his lips, making you feel dizzy at the erotic sound. His cock dripped a thick drop of pre onto the floor beneath you as you watched it hang freely in the room, twitching in the air.

He was so big it almost made you mad, realizing at that moment his cockiness and confidence not only came from his good looks and impressive talent but also from his massive cock. You dropped to his knees, perching yourself on them as you pulled up his shirt and bit the fabric between your teeth, letting yourself have a full view of his body. "Fuck." You moaned, the sound coming out muffled from the fabric tucked between your teeth as you let his warm hands come up to caress his body.

You felt every indent and ridge his body had to offer as you smoothed his massive hands over his body. Any guild you might've felt earlier being washed away at the unreal sight in front of you. The throbbing in his crotch was becoming unbearable the longer you worked yourself up. You tried to stop your hands from dropping any lower, you really did, but when you felt the way his hand wrapped around his cock, the relief, the pleasure, you had no regrets.

--

Gojo sat on the floor of the shower with a slack jaw as he watched your small fingers piston in and out of your tight cunt, moaning and whining at how warm and wet you felt around your fingers. "S-Satoru, Satoru-" He moaned in your voice, getting himself off on hearing your voice moan out his name. "Fuck- this feels so fucking good-" He whined, tipping his head bak agaisnt the shower wall.

He thought fingering himself would feel uncomfortable, but he was sorely mistaken. Your body was made for taking things inside your tight little cunt, the feeling of pleasure immediately washing over his body from just sliding his fingers inside your cunt. He had already cum twice from fingering your body and rubbing your fingers over your sensitive clit, he just couldn't get enough. He had no idea how long he had been in there for, but the water was still running hot so it couldn't have been that long.

"Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, yesyesyes-" He moaned in your voice, wanting to get the most out of this experience while he could, he didn't know if he would ever get to be this up close and personal with your body again after all. He tweaked your nipples in his fingers, biting your lip as loud moans echoed off the walls of the bathroom, his hips humping into your fingers as he felt himself approach another orgasm.

"Soooooo fucked- heh- S-so fucked up" He groaned, your voice raising in pitch as he fought the urge to keep your legs apart, moaning out his name once more when he came. Your body curled in on itself as he continued fucking his fingers in and out of your cunt, working himself through the orgasm. "A-ahhh ngh- fuck-" He wined, pulling his fingers from your walls as your legs snapped shut, and your cunt clenched around nothing. The friction your thighs brought on your sensitive cunt as you came down from your orgasm felt heavenly.

Your body relaxed under the pelting water droplets hit his body, your gasps filling the bathroom as he tried to catch his breath. Gojo couldn't help but think how much better it felt to come as a woman, he felt like his whole soul left his body each time he came, the electricity that zapped through his whole body and made his mind cloudy was a feeling that could not be beat. He almost started mourning the curse you had killed, he wanted to experience this all the time.

With a sigh he pulled himself off of the floor, standing on shaky legs as he shut off the water and giggled to himself as he took the towel down from the side of the shower. "Fuck, it feels a little sore down there.. hope she doesn't notice, heh." And with that, the white-haired man started to dry off your hair and dress your body back up in the nice clean clothes you had given him.

--

"Fuck- fuck- o-ohmygod" You rapidly stroked your hand over his cock while you stared at Gojo's body in the mirror. It was a weird feeling, being aroused by this body while you had full control over it, but the fucked up situation almost made it more exciting. Gojo's balls felt so heavy and warm under your palm as you massaged in between your fingers. His back arched in the mirror every time you ran your hand over the sensitive tip of his dick.

It had taken you a minute to get used to the feeling and to find the right rhythm, but once you did, you were going fucking insane. You don't know how Gojo had lived his whole life with such a sensitive cock, every time you stroked over his length his body jerked and twitched, pre cum dripped from his dick, and his breath hitched, it was a mess. His needy whines and deep groanes you had occasionally let slip was driving your arousal up the walls, the way his abs clenched under your ministrations, and the feeling of his cock twitching when the stimulation got too much; you were feeling drunk.

"Right fucking- there- yess~" You groaned in his voice, stroking his cock slower but rougher as you squeezed your fist tightly around him. You wished you could fuck someone while you were in his body. If his hand felt this good, could you imagine how a mouth felt around it? Or a pussy? An ass? The possibilities and fantasies you were painting in your head were making his balls tighten, a familiar feeling coiling itself in the pit of his stomach.

"Shit, think I'm gonna cum." You vocalized, wanting to hear his voice, as the effect it had on you was embarrassing. You might be incapable of saying the filthy shit Gojo says on a daily basis, but you were sure as hell good at moaning and vocalizing your pleasure when something felt good. You wanted to hear how his voice sounded when it moaned out your name, but the embarrassment was too much, just thinking about it made you blush.

Your breath picked up as you thrust his hips to meet your strokes, both losing rhythm as you brought his body closer and closer to orgasm. "A-ahhh- fuck its coming its- fu-fuck-" You groaned, watching with a slacked jaw as long ropes of cum spurted out of his dick. Some of the ropes coated his hand and eased the slide on his cock as you stroked him through his orgasm, some being shot out onto the mirror in front of you, making the whole scene look pornographic.

His orgasm felt different from the ones you were used to, but it felt just as good. The heat was stronger in the pit of your stomach, and his cock was ten times as sensitive as your clit usually was right when you came. You felt different afterward too, a wave of shame and realization flooded over you when you realized what you had just done. "Ughhhh.." You groaned, being able to blame the unreasonable hornieness on this new body of yours as you washed the shame from your head, using a nearby towel from the other night to wipe off your dirtied mirror and his sensitive cock.

You winced and sucked a breath in through your teeth at the oversensitivity you felt while you wiped off his softening cock; silently curing him as it was still massive when it was flaccid. As soon as you tucked his cock back into his pants and straightened his apearance back up, you heard a knock on your door that nearly sent your soul flying out of your body.

"Let me innn, it's cold out here~" You heard your voice whine from the other side of the door. You took a deep breath before you walked over to the door and pulled it open, being faced with a damp-haired you. "Why do I look like shit? My face is so red." Gojo complained, walking past you as he dumped your clothes in your hamper before he walked over to your mirror to fix up your still-wet hair.

"Just got hot," You brushed off his remark. "How was your shower?" You asked, avoiding eye contact as you watched him fix your hair in the mirror. "Ohh you know~ Hot." He giggled. You rolled your eyes at his words, dismissing him as you plopped his heavy body on your bed and stared at the ceiling.

"I need to get my body back." You mumbled under your breath, making him look over to you from his place in front of the mirror, "What was that?" He asked, making you bite your lip between your teeth as you sighed heavily, replaying the last couple minutes over and over in your head. "Oh, nothing." You replied, biting the inside of your cheek.

part 2 :)

[thecoochiefairy]

sniffles. suguru getou.

𑄽𑄺 warnings 𑄽𑄺 blackfem!reader, drabble/headcannon, sick!suguru, grumpy!suguru, sweet!suguru,submissive!suguru, dominant! suguru, roleplay, black woman, vaginal penetration, rough, lil bit of sweet talkin’, hair pulling, squirting, creaming, oral [f] [m], choking, praising, LOTS of dirty talk, riding, condomless sex, kissing, spanking, size kink, minors aren’t welcome!

━━ 𝒄𝙤𝒐𝙘𝒉𝙞𝒆𝙛𝒂𝙞𝒓𝙮 𝙩𝒉𝙤𝒖𝙜𝒉𝙩𝒔 .ᐟ i’m just horny. sorry y’all.

ᖭི༏ᖫྀ :: suguru is sick, and you, his girlfriend—just wants to nurse him back to health.

You should’ve brought your key. 

Standing across from the door, you impatiently knock again, waiting for your boyfriend to open it. With an unfortunate cold, he’d crawl for dramatics. Suguru was currently suffering with a deadly indignation— his allergies, and you knew that as soon as he felt sick, he was practically on his deathbed. He was already grumpy on a regular basis. His intimidating frame, dark hair and tattoos made him almost scary. But that’s what you loved, you weren’t afraid of what came with him. Here you were, knocking on his door as you awaited for him to answer, holding the bag of medicine and soup he requested.

You roll your eyes as you hear shuffling along the door, yet it doesn’t open. 

You then press impatiently, “C’mon, Suguru. You’re not gonna die from walking to the door.”

When the door opens, his broad frame towers over yours, black sweatshirt desperately trying to hide his muscular build, hair wrapped in a bun that nearly fell apart. His strident jaw glares down at you, glasses tilting as his eyes squint beneath the light of the sun. You notice the redness in his nose. 

You tilt your head as you greet, “Hey, Sexy,” jokingly seeing his appearance. 

He glares at you, his eyes showing no emotion. His allergies were hitting him hard and it was obvious. He was not a whiny man. But in sickness, he would not hide his complaints.

“Shut the fuck up,” He says with a grumble, opening the door wider to let you in nonetheless.

You hold the brown paper bag to your chest, walking in as you turn to him with a soft smile,  “I got you some stuff, my little sick pumpkin.” 

“I told you I didn’t want all that Mucinex and shit,” he grumbles, flopping himself along the couch, throwing his arms over his face with a groan. 

“Oh boy, hush. I told you that it’ll open up your sinuses. Why so grumpy?”

“My ears hurt—all that fuckin’ mouth you got, it’s making my head hurt too,” He says bluntly. 

 Was he being a little mean? Sure. That didn’t stop you—he didn’t want to admit it yet, but he loved being babied by you, and you knew that. He rolls onto his side, facing away from you as he mumbles something under his breath. Despite his protests, he was happy you were there. He missed you.

“Oh yeah?” You raise an eyebrow, crossing your arms as you turn your head, “Maybe I’ll go back home. Leave you to die in your congestion.” 

He freezes at your words, the thought of you leaving and not staying by his side made him want to throw a tantrum. He scoffs and looks away, trying to mask his real feelings.

“Do it then. I don’t need your little ass.”

You roll your eyes. Coming closer, you hop yourself along his lap as his arms are still thrown over his face, the impact making him groan. 

You sigh sarcastically, “Poor baby…”

You then smack his arm, “Get the fuck up, Getou. Come take this medicine before I hurt you.” 

He grunts at the feeling of you on his lap, peeking behind his arm to fully see you. 

“Why should I?”

“Because I have a surprise for you,” you lean into his ear, voice warm and soft, “Don’t you wanna see it?” 

He hums at your words, his ears picking up on the word ‘surprise’. He turns to look at you with a slight look of confusion. 

“Maybe I do.” He says, his stubborn attitude slowly leaving.

He holds you around your waist with ease, leaning into your affection. Your nurturing aura made him soften his attitude, allowing you to finally take care of him.

He lets out a low grumble before correcting, “Hey, pretty baby.” 

“See? All you had to do was be nice,” you kiss his nose, “Hi,” you then say softly, exhaling as you stand from his lap, “Stay here. I’m gonna run to the bathroom, I’ll be back!” 

He grunts, allowing you to get up from his lap with no complaints. He missed you again. Nonetheless, he turns on his side, laying down along the couch as he waits for you to come back. 

Time passes, the impatience of this man making him sit up along the sofa, manspreading with his head back along the velvet material. As he thought about going up to check on you, he heard your voice. 

“Still sick, baby?”

You stand at the door—now in a completely different outfit. Wearing a white button up dress that clings to your frame, it looks to be a nurse’s uniform. It’s sheer, showing all your skin beneath the material, a heart along the chest pocket, your breasts nearly spilling from the top buttons that desperately hold them up. Your heels were tall, red bottoms matching the outfit you wear.

 “Are you ready for me to take care of you?” 

His eyes lock along your frame, tracing up and down your body hungrily in approval. His mouth went dry at the sight of your curves in the dress.

“You’re gonna’ be the fuckin’ death of me, you know that?”

His eyes scan you all the way down to your shoes before he tells you, “Come here.”

You giggle, “You shouldn’t be speaking to me like that, silly. I’m your nurse!” 

You twist your hips as you come forward, pulling the stethoscope from around your neck as you insist, “Now, tell me what’s going on with you, Mr…Getou, is it?”

You looked good enough to eat in that nurse's uniform.

You were right though. You were his nurse. He leaned back into the cushions of the couch, spreading his legs wider to give you enough room to move between them. 

He smirks at your comment, his body shifting up against the couch more. He plays along with you as well.

“Yes, it is.” He says, placing a hand on his chest, “I have a really high fever, I need extra care.”

You gasp softly, “A fever? I’m so sorry to hear that!” You shake your head, “May I…check where you feel warm?” You tilt your head, dark wavy hair flowing down to your hip, swaying over your shoulder.

His smirk grows at your words, raising an eyebrow in amusement. He invites, “Go ahead,” watching your soft curls dangle in front of your face.

He moves his body closer, his large frame hovering near you. He rests one hand on the back of the couch, the other coming to rest on the nape of your neck.

You lean closer,  pressing your hand against his forehead, “Mmm, feels a little warm here…” you then move it to his neck, “Feels a little warm here as well. What symptoms are you experiencing?”

He leans his head into your touch on his forehead, letting out a sigh from the contact. He then leans his head back, exposing his neck to you, Adam’s apple throbbing. He lets out a low grunt after feeling your hand on it.

“I’m experiencing dizziness, a sore throat...” He takes a moment to speak again, “And I feel very hot in certain places.”

“Hot…” you tsks, “Sounds painful. I think you may need some ice.” 

You stand from the sofa, going over to the fridge to grab a cup of ice as you ask, “You’re very…handsome, Mr. Getou. Do you have a girlfriend, if you don’t mind me asking?”

He watched you walk away from him, admiring the curve of your ass and the sway of your hips. He let out a low chuckle at your question, shaking his head slightly.

“Yeah, I do,” he said simply, his gaze never leaving you.

You lean yourself into the fridge, twisting your hips as you sigh, “That’s too bad…the good ones are always taken, it seems.”

His lips curl into a smirk at your comment, his eyes narrowing just slightly. He watches you closely, studying every movement you make.

"I guess it depends on who you ask.”

You raise an eyebrow, “A bad boy, it seems.” 

“Shit. Might be.” 

You close the fridge as you have some ice water within your hand, making your way back towards him. 

“Sorry it took so long—“ 

It’s swift, you’re good at your game. You purposely trip, the ice water splashing all over your dress. 

You gasp, watching as the water soaks into the top of your dress, nipples poking through the material, completely exposing your bare chest. 

“Oh my goodness, Mr. Getou. I’m so sorry…” 

You lean down, beginning to wipe the floor with the napkin you hold. Your movements are natural as you arch your back, heels pointing towards the ceiling.

He felt his dick jump as you leaned down to clean. He swallows hard, his eyes fixated on you.

“‘Need to be more careful,” He warns you, his voice growing huskier.

“I’m so clumsy…” you pout, “…A patient of mine has never made me this nervous,” you admit with a weak smile, grabbing for the ice that’s still within the cup. 

You slow your movements, still in a crawling position as you look up to him, “Are you still feeling…hot?”

He smirks at your words, his body instinctively reacting to yours. He can feel himself getting harder under his pants, his breath hitching in anticipation.

“Hot as fuck. Damn near in hell.”

“I apologize…Let me help you cool down.” 

You’re a minx. Taking an ice cube within your mouth, you come forward, crawling your way onto his lap. You take him by his hair and tug his head back, leaning forward, running the ice along his neck, allowing the ice to melt within your mouth as you drag your tongue along his throat.

You murmur, “Is that better?”

His breath hitches as you crawl onto his lap, his body stiffening under your touch. He lets out a low growl at the sensation of the ice melting in your mouth, the coolness seeping into his heated skin.

"That's..." He pauses, trying to gather his thoughts amidst the haze of pleasure, "That's definitely helping."

Your mouth is still cold, moving down his chest, eyes still upon his as you say, “I don’t think your girlfriend would appreciate me assisting you in this way, Mr. Getou…”

"Fuck," he groans, his hands moving to your waist as he pulls you farther onto his lap.

He lets out a low growl at your words, his grip slightly tightens in your hair. He looks down at you, his eyes dark and possessive as he replies. 

“She’ll understand. You’re taking very good care of me...” He says, his other hand sliding up your leg, feeling your bare skin.

You laugh, sultry to his ears. You then bring your mouth up to his jaw, stopping right at his lips as you hum, “What if I had a boyfriend…and he killed for me…”

His eyes narrow at your words, a dangerous glint flashing in them. He tightens his grip in your hair slightly, pulling your head back and away from his face. 

"You'd let me kill him?"

“…Maybe,” your breath hitches, melting into his hands like putty. 

“Then he’d have to put up a good ass fight.” He replies, his voice challenging. He pulls your head back even more, leaning forward and pressing his lips against your ear. “And I don’t lose.”

You’d never done role play before, not expecting him to play along like he was. Despite him not feeling well, he seemed to be enjoying your game. His tone makes you giggle, pulling your face down as you lock your mouth against his, dirtily making out with him, tongue struck out, messily pressing with his.

He let out a groan as your lips crashed against his, the feeling of your tongue in his mouth made him growl and become more aggressive. He grips the back of your head, holding you in place as he greedily kisses you back.

He breaks the kiss momentarily, panting heavily as he looks down at you. "You're fuckin’ sexy when you're like this," he murmurs, his voice husky.

The moment you go to respond, his hands clasps both of your wrists behind your back, trapping you in a way that makes you pout. You enjoyed the feeling of being in control, but you knew he always needed the upper hand. 

You roll your eyes, “That’s not fair…”

���Cut that fuckin’ attitude before you don’t get anything from me.”

He uses his other hand to tilt your head to the side, giving him access to your neck. Leaning forward, he presses his lips along the side of your throat and begins sucking on the skin.

You gasp softly at his lips along your skin, knowing the skin of your neck was sensitive. You breathily sigh, “S—Suguru…” tugging at your trapped hands, wanting to be freed. 

“You want your hands?”

You nod your head, feeling his other hand now tugging at your hair, sliding down as yanks the material of the dress you wear, spanking the skin of your ass. Your teeth dig into your lips at his aggression, your skin feeling on fire. 

“Say out loud what you want.”

You refuse to give in to him, your voice going silent in defiance. He knew exactly what you were doing.

Hm, okay. 

His eyes were low as he watched you—evil. He leaned you upwards, his free hand gripping the blood red panties you wore, tugging them to the side, hearing the squelch of your opening that’s throbbing for his attention. 

You then feel the heaviness of his dick slap along your ass, fat tip nudging at your folds, making you swallow. You want to protest. But it’s too late— he’s already dropping you down, skin sticking together from your arousal that pulls along his thighs. He’s deep, pinching your insides uncomfortably, overthrown by a rush of devilishly itching pleasure. 

He brought his face closer to yours, lips hovering over his mouth as your eyes rolled to the back of your head, head tilting back as a sharp gasp left your lips, dropping your face back down to his as you whimpered.

“Always so stubborn,” he grunts, your hips fully connected, raising you forward and dropping you down again, dreading the pleasure it brings you. He thrusts himself deeper inside of you, gripping your face as you want to hide the warmth in your cheeks, “Nah. You wanted this," he growls, his voice low and rough.

Another gasp pulls from your lips, wrists tugging beneath his as you whimper in a pleading way, calling for him, “B—Baby…” 

“Nah, what happened to Mr. Getou? I’m baby now?” Suguru says within your ear.

Your chest rises hastily as pleasure raptures through your body, wanting to touch him, wanting to dig your fingers through his hair. You needed it. 

“Don’t wanna hear all that whining shit,” His free hand reaches between your legs, rubbing circles on your clit as he continues to drill you senseless, “Came over here in this little fuckin’ dress. Bounce on my dick like you love it.”

“Sorry, baby…” you whine, his own strength having full control of you, unable to do anything but release moans from your lips, watching the way your body bounces atop of him—all from his one fist holding your hands. 

He lets out a low chuckle as you apologize, enjoying the sound of your moans. He moves his head back, watching the way your body moves up and down in his lap. He could feel his body getting hotter and hotter.

“Yeah, I like the sound of that.” He grunts, his voice thick with lust. He keeps a firm grip on your wrists, watching you squirm against him.

“…Mmm….fuck…”  you curse, your head tilting back, hair moving with you, “W—wait, baby…I…wanna touch you…please…”

"Touch me where?" he asks, his voice dripping with amusement. "I'm fuckin’ deep inside you."

He gives your wrists another squeeze, keeping them pinned behind you. He continues to thrust up into you, feeling your pussy tighten around his dick.

"’Getting tight as fuck, baby. Open up. Need you to relax. Let me fuck you. Beg a little harder, too. You can do better,” He demands, his grip on your wrists tightening even more.

“So mean…” you mewl, “‘Know I like touching you…”

You try to gain control, but he’s stronger. He uses one hand to hold you down, dropping you up and down ruthlessly, his other hand readjusting your legs to where your feet are planted on both sides of his legs, evil again in trapping you like this. 

“You like when I’m mean. Admit that shit.”

It’s like a dam had broken out into a river, your mouth dropping open as no noise released for a moment. You then brokenly moan, gasping deeply as you begin talking to him, “You’re in control baby. Love it when you’re in control….don’t stop….o—oh my….baby…baby…”

He felt a sense of pride, knowing that he was the one who made you like this. He leans his head forward, his lips just barely touching the side of your jaw.

“So fuckin’ needy,” he says lowly, “Begging and squirming on my lap.” He lets out a low growl. “So desperate.” 

He thrusts up into you harder, faster, driving himself deeper inside of you. He can feel your wetness coating his length, the slick sounds of your bodies colliding filling the room.

“Fuck, baby...you're creaming, such a pretty fuckin’ sight,” he groans, his voice thick with desire. He reaches up, grabbing onto your breast roughly, squeezing it in his hands.

“So desperate,” you repeat, “…Need to touch you baby, please. Please. Please.”  

He watches as your eyes roll back, a low growl leaving his lips. He lets go of your wrists completely, moving both of his hands down to grip your hips.

“I’m hot, Nurse, I need you to take care of me.” His fingers dig into your skin, needing you to touch him. “Help me.”

This is all you wanted. You wrap your arms around his neck, digging your fingers into his hair as you lean your jaw into his cheek, positioning yourself to pleasure him. Your lips are directly by his ear as you begin to raise up your hips before dropping them down, your moans becoming infinitely louder the second you do so.

"Ooh, shit. That’s fuckin’ good, baby,” he murmurs, his voice husky with desire as he roughly spanks you, the sound echoing against the apartment. "Taking care of me so well." He grips your hips tighter, guiding your movements on top of him.

"…Fuck...you're so wet..." he grunts, feeling your pussy clench around him again. He thrusts up into you harder, meeting each of your downward motions. He can’t stop talking to you. 

"Oh my fuckin’ god, baby...that feels so good," he groans, his head falling back against the couch.

Your eyes well with pleasurable tears, a soft sob coming from your lips as you bounce on top of him, eyes fluttering back into your head as you messily moan,  “Ohhh…my god. Baby…I…agh….baby….”

He listens to your pleas, his breathing heavy and ragged. He can't help but smile, hearing how desperate you are for him.

"You're so fuckin’ sexy, baby," he groans, gripping your hips tightly. "Ride me good, baby. Make yourself squirt all on my dick. Know how good that feels for you,” He thrusts up into you harder, his tip throbbing inside.

He moves one of his hands, gripping the back of your head and bringing your lips to his mouth. He kisses you hungrily, his other hand gripping your hip tightly as he continues to guide you.

You attempt to kiss him back, your mouth relaxed under his, still open as you moan loudly, tears sprayed against your cheeks as you bounce even harder on top of him, skin creating a loud sound. You feel like you could go into shock at the way your eyes roll, your chest heaving as your nails dig into his back.

 When your hips raise, you feel yourself beginning to squirt, gasping, walls quelling as you drop back down, “T—Talk to me, baby… need to hear your voice. Love your voice. So fucking…” you whine loudly, “Pretty.”  

He feels your tears against his cheek as he kisses you, moans filling his ears and driving him wild. He pulls you up as he runs his fingers against your core, sliding them deep into you as he groans, slamming them in to feel your walls retract, gushing out more as you continue to squirt. Your face is red, unable to breathe properly as he pulls them out to spank you, “Need you to do that shit again. Gonna make you.” 

When he kisses your cries into his mouth, he remembers your plea. He reluctantly pulls his lips from yours, his own breath heavy and ragged. “My voice?” he asks, his hand grip tightening in your hair. “You want me to talk, baby?”

You nod your head, tears falling from your eyes in complete euphoria as you whimper deeply, “Yes, baby…” you hiccup, “Yes. Yeahh. Yes.” 

“You like how I sound, baby?” he says, his voice deep and gruff. “You like how I talk?” He pulls you head back, exposing your neck. “You like how I moan?”

“Love it,” you groan, swirling your hips around to prove your point, “Love it so. Fucking…” you can barely get out your words, gasping through them, “So much, baby…” back to whimpering, more tears falling. 

He can feel himself getting closer, needing you just as much as you needed him.

“I’m gonna need you to take care of me a little more,” he moans in your ear, his lips trailing down to your neck, sucking and biting at the skin. “You know how to take care of me, baby…I need you to.”

Your legs feel like they’re going numb, at this point, you feel like you’re about to black out. The feeling of you slowing down makes him grunt irritatedly. 

Just like that, he switches your position swiftly to where you bend along the sofa, Suguru now behind you. He twists your hair in his fist, slamming back inside making you gasp out. You reach behind yourself to where he snatches your hands behind your back.

His thrusts become erratic, his hips slapping against your ass hard enough to leave red prints on your skin. He tightens his hold on your hair, pulling your head back further to expose your neck.

"I'm close, baby," he growls in your ear, nipping at your lobe. "Gonna fill you up so good."

He grinds his length against your folds, teasing you mercilessly before he thrusts back inside, hitting spots that make you squeal. He fucks you hard, his thrusts rough and unyielding.

“You know just how I like it, don’t you baby?” he leans his head forward, his lip right next to your ear. “You’d do anything to please me, wouldn’t you?”

“Anything, baby,” you groan. 

The groan hums out into a long moan, your back arching beneath him, feeling as his hand clasps your throat from behind to keep you in place.

He’s relentless, taking a moment to lean down as he tells you, “Haven’t ate my pussy, baby. Need that shit.” 

He’s still holding your wrists, leaning down as he locks his mouth around your core, swirling his head in circles, groaning as he dips his tongue in and out of you just to taste how in love you were with him.

His lips pull away from your pussy, a wet pop sounding through the room as he does. He releases your wrists, his hands moving to grip your hips tightly. With a loud growl, he thrusts back inside of you, his dick filling you completely.

"You're mine," he grunts, biting down gently on your shoulder. "Only ever been mine."

He leans himself up to where your body is beneath his, tilting your neck back to where you’re forced to look up at him from behind. His chin lays along your forehead as your mouth is parted open, hips shaking at his rough connection from his hips. 

You tremble, “Oh my god, baby. Oh my god….”

Your sounds are almost animalistic as you grunt, panting as it shrills into a deep cry, entire body shaking, hearing as that makes him arrogantly chuckle. 

He grips at your hair, his mouth hovering over your ear. “You love it when I make you feel this way, baby?”

Your eyes are closed as you sob, talking through each connection of your hips, twisting your neck around and watching his movements as you quiver out, “Yes, baby…don’t stop. Don’t stop, please…please…pleasee.” 

“You want me to keep going, baby?” he groans, “I’ll give you whatever you want.”

“Cumming…cumming….baby…oh…oh…fuckkk.” 

You swallow, gasping as you dig your nails into the sofa. Your entire body falls apart, barely moving as your hips completely halt, trembling as your body explodes in raptures. Your arousal gushes out again—it practically seeps through his thrusts. His hand tightens around your throat as you groan, clutching your eyes shut as you sob out, body shaking as if you’ve been tased.

His thrusts slow down, becoming more sensual rather than rough. He can feel your pussy clench around him, milking him for everything he's worth. Your orgasm triggers his own, he grunts loudly, his cum shooting out in thick spurts as he buries himself deep within you.

You’re both breathing heavily, feeling the intensity of your session. Suguru’s unable to help himself as his palm slams on your ass again, leaving you to only whimper in response, making him chuckle.

“I’m sensitive…” you muffle against the sofa, hiding your warm face as you awkwardly laugh to yourself.

Suguru chuckles darkly, rolling off of you to lay beside you. He reaches over, running a hand through your hair soothingly. "Sorry, baby," he murmurs, kissing your temple. "Didn't mean to hit too hard."

You peak back, “Oh, now you’re all nice to me? Thought you were sick, huh? Lying ass.”

Like clockwork, he’s back to his usual grumpiness. He spanks you again, ducking the swing you give him at that as he says, “Yeah, whatever. Maybe pussy was my medicine. Now come give me that stupid ass mucinex.”

“Fuck you. Do it your damn self.”

“I love you too.”

[xfindingtrouble]

“We keep living anyway. We rise and we fall and we break and we make our mistakes.” – for Vilkas, from Aela.

regret was easier in theory, rising above was easier in theory. the unfortunate thing about theory is that it often left vilkas' brain simmering with too many ' what if's. how he could have done things differently, what would have been the better scenario by the end of it. outwardly he could stand by his decisions quite stubbornly, but internally...? well, things got a bit more complicated.

perhaps he hadn't been careful enough with his allusions to regret, his questioning of the twisting paths that had led them this far. as the years passed, he could not help but wonder how they would be remembered. what sort of light would be shone upon them when they died. would they be remembered as heroes or beasts? how long before someone saw them as they were, saw beyond the narrative they didn't write.

vilkas' shoulders drop as he sinks into his chair, meeting aela's gaze from across the table. they had spent most of the night nestled in the corner of some unremarkable tavern, drinking unremarkable ale. it hardly held a flame to the drinks back home, but it did the job while they were passing through this forgettable town. ( he would be glad when they got back on the road, he thinks. )

" You're right, I suppose. Mistakes make man, " though he doesn't seem entirely convinced, his brow is still knotted together in thought. His voice drops & he leans a bit closer. maybe he ought to hold his tongue, but it was a night for sentiment, wasn't it? " But sometimes I feel like the rules are different for us. Our mistakes aren't just ours, they aren't always so individual. "

it was difficult to trade his sentiments with others, but it was always a bit easier when it was someone who may understand. stubborn as she was, aela was not without reason. their conversation had taken many twists & turns, skipping past the perceived mistakes that he usually couldn't pay attention to. his mouth feels too dry & so he sips at his drink, letting her words settle in the space between them. they should be comforting & they almost are, but vilkas' mind is not so quick to rest.

[swordsandholly]

Cherry Bomb - tattoo parlor anthology

MDNI | poly 141 x fem fat reader | masterlist

Part 7: Firsts

Kyle bought you lunch before your set time. To make sure you ate, he said. He still asked about five times if you felt like you ate enough or needed water even after sitting across from you while you downed a to-go container of pad se ew and your fourth ounce bottle.

You just laugh and point to a piece on your knee. “Babes I got this with nothing but a trenta iced coffee and two hours of sleep in my system. I’m fine, I promise.”

John made a baffled noise at that. Kyle looked like he was going to throw up. That look remained as he went through the process of setting up in John’s studio room. Kyle is meticulous about it. Each step done with care. You feel a bit silly sitting around and twiddling your thumbs.

“Just breathe. It’s fine.” John murmurs in a low rumble that somehow has you relaxing more than the indented party.

“It’s almost more scary doing someone I know.” Kyle huffs.

You laugh. “Can’t be worse than the blown out piece of shit on my left arm. C’mon, I’ve seen what you can do. You’ve got this.”

John nods, sitting on the other side of you.

“Besides, even if it sucks I’ll still be honored to be your first real apprentice tattoo.” You pipe up.

Kyle chuckles, low and unsure. Part of you wants to give him an out, to say he doesn’t have to, but you can see the set of his jaw even as his eyes flick between his supplies and the stencil in his hand nervously. He’s determined as much as he is scared. There’s no getting him out of that headspace until he’s done.

You chose something easy. One of Kyle’s more dainty, simple flash designs for the back of your thigh, just below the curve of your ass. A little bow with minimal shading. Something he’s practiced a thousand times and an easy enough starting point. Plus, you already mentioned having him do a matching one on the other side when he’s ready for it. Easy practice.

“C’mon, at least get the stencil on before you have a panic attack.” You try to keep your voice light, turning your back to him.

Kyle sighs. You hear his stool roll forward as he scoots in close to place it. John shuffles around to stand over him. A nasty part of your brain complains about exposing your cellulite to these two fit men but you push that deep down into nothing. A second, more embarrassing part wonders if you should have chose a more appropriate spot… that maybe you shouldn’t be standing in front of your boss and coworker in teeny-tiny biker shorts that barely cover you. You shove that down right next to the other mean thoughts.

You pointedly ignore the heat that shoots up your spine as Kyle’s hands feel out the shape of your thigh to get it centered - keeping your eyes forward as he slowly presses the paper against you. You could swear a thumb traces the curve of your cheek as he smoothes it but that’s probably just wishful thinking.

“Good job, kid.” John claps a hand on Kyle’s shoulder as soon as the paper is pulled away. You turn around in the mirror to check it, expecting to probably have to move it, but from what you can tell it really is perfect.

“Damn, dude, on your first try!” You grin, clapping happily.

Kyle nods stiffly, but you see the way the corner of his mouth quirks up. You unceremoniously clamber onto the table, moving around so your back doesn’t hurt from laying flat for the next few hours with your arms folded under your head.

“Hey.” You whisper while John steps away to grab something. “Get through this without freaking out and I’ll give you a reward.”

“A reward?” He tilts his head, smile turning from an nervous curl of his lip to a boyish grin.

You jokingly bat your lashes. “I’ll give you a kiss.”

Kyle chuckles. “With tongue?”

You gawk, face hot. “Mr. Garrick! Where’d my knight in shining armor go?”

“Just tryin’ t’ figure out exactly what I’m workin’ toward.”

You hum, pretending to mull it over. “We’ll see. Depends on how well you do.”

Kyle levels a look at you, something heated as his lip catches between his teeth. It’s only there for a moment, gone as soon as he turns to his tools. Replaced by a laser focus.

“Alright.” John settles back into his seat on your other side. “Let’s do one line and then see how we all feel.”

Kyle nods. You shuffle a little to make you’re you’re as comfortable as possible for the next however long. You know it’s going to be a while even if it isn’t a simple design. He’s new and precise with means slow.

The familiar whirr of the gun starts up. You shut your eyes, waiting, hoping that you aren’t projecting any more tension into the room than Kyle is. The needle stings when it finally touches you, but not as badly as you braced for. His touch is light.

He pulls the gun away and let’s put a giant sigh. “How y’feel, luv?”

“Hm? Oh, I’m all good. You?” You tilt your chin a bit to meet his eye.

“Better now that it’s started.”

“Good.” John nods, chest bumping your leg as he leans forward to look. “Looks good. Keep on.”

The room is nearly silent as he works. You turned down the music before coming back so he wouldn’t get overwhelmed - at least that was your reasoning. You’d get overwhelmed. Kyle is more levelheaded than you are, though.

“Thassit.” John smiles - or at least that’s how it sounds in his voice. “Her skin takes ink so well, yeah?”

Fuck, that totally should not do it for you. Gravelly voiced British bastard. You keep your eyes locked onto the flash on the far wall as you attempt to cool down.

Kyle just hums, seemingly unable to talk as he concentrates. He probably is with how dialed in he looks. You take a break before he gets to shading, stretching and getting some water. It takes a while, but not as long as you assumed. You start to get that ache in your skin partway through the shading - that feeling when your nerves are so tired from firing off pain receptors they just all sort of start burning dully.

However long later Kyle pulls away. “I… think it’s done?”

“You think?” John challenges.

Kyle sighs before speaking with more finality. “It’s done.”

There’s a few beats where John assess and you hold your breath. He points to a couple spots where Kyle’s hand slipped a bit or he applied too much pressure, but when you check it out in the mirror yourself you don’t see that all. Perfectionists.

You can’t help but squeal and jump, clapping happily and barely standing still while Kyle puts the saniderm on. You’re just to happy! Not only did Kyle get his first tattoo done but now you have brand new (free) cute ink to show off. Kyle looks tired, though, so you try not over overwhelm him while he cleans up. Concentrating like that with anxiety must have really taken it out of him.

You sort of forget about your promise of a reward for the next week. Too busy focusing on taking care of your new tattoo. The only downside to the placement is sitting in your office chair itches - especially once you take the saniderm off. You’ve mostly taken to standing while working and wearing shorts and skirts to let it breathe. It’s worth it, though. You’ll have to ask Kyle how soon he wants to do the other one. Without being pushy, of course.

You quietly hum to yourself as you get the cash drawers ready to lock away in the backroom safe. Triple checking the bags and making sure tips are divided correctly, etc.

“Hey, lovie.” Kyle saddles up behind you suddenly, hands on your hips.

You jump. “Holy shit, you scared the hell out of me!”

���Sorry.” He chuckles. A hand slips down your hip, palm tracing the hem of your tennis skirt to lightly rest over the little bow. “How’s she healin’?”

“It’s, uh, it-“ You stutter, eyes wide and skin hot. If it were Johnny, you’d laugh and swat him away - maybe let his hand wander to your ass first - but Kyle doesn’t do this. Not that you don’t like it - the problem lies in that you’re liking it too much. If the patter of your heart is anything to go by. “It’s good. Not itching yet or anything.”

Kyle hums. “Good.”

“Th-that all?”

“Think you forgot somethin’.” He turns you around, hands firmly planted on the softness of your waist. When you just give him a bewildered look he continues. “I was promised a reward, I think.”

“O-oh?” Your face burns, eyes wide. Is he serious? Part of you wants to say no - to push him away. You’re coworkers, after all. Until your eyes meet his, so big and warm and his lips forming a perfect pout. “John….?”

Kyle chuckles ans crosses his chest. “John won’t care. Cross my heart.”

He gives you a moment to mull it over. You don’t think he’s making fun of or bating you - Kyle wouldn’t do that. There’s no way he’s interested either. That’s one delusion you can firmly plant in the ’purely imaginary’ category.

Whatever. What do you have to lose from a little back room make out?

Your lips meets his. Fuck, they’re soft. He steals your breath - greedy and gentile. It’s been so long since you’ve been kissed, much less kissed well. One of the hands on your waist moves to your low back as Kyle leans into you. Your hands grapple onto his shoulders to steady you. He takes advantage of your gasp at being tilted back to swipe is tongue between your lips.

You mould together, breaths heavy and tongues dancing. A needy, pathetic little part of you wishes the hand that drifted from your waist to your hip would hook under your thigh. That Kyle would tilt you all the way back onto the desk and throw your leg over his shoulder, eagerly pushing up your skirt-

An ‘I love you’ dances on the tip of your tongue and you reel back harshly, hand flat on his chest to separate you.

“Alright?” He murmurs, eyes half lidded and dark.

You swallow roughly and nod, breathing hard. “I, uh, I need to finish the safe.”

Something passes across his face briefly as your eyes flick between his. Whatever it was, it’s replaced by his usual easy smile as he returns to standing at his full height, the hands on your waist steady you before disappearing. Your stomach drops as they go.

“See you tomorrow.” Kyle murmurs, pressing one last little peck on your cheek before striding away, leaving you alone in the back room with a hot face and whirlwind thoughts.

Fuck.

A/N: brought to you by the time a tattoo artist told me my skin takes ink well in the most haunting bedroom voice I’ve ever heard😵‍💫 killed me right then and there

[gothcsz]

Obvious | Pornstar!Javier Peña x Fem!Reader | Part 4 of Unscripted Desire | ~12k wc | Series Masterlist | gif cred | Explicit. Minors DNI.

Summary: Life after quitting the porn industry.

Tags: halloween vibes, smut, oral (f receiving), fingering, p in v sex (protected), getting bent over in a parking garage, frankie heavy beginning (they had us in the first half not gonna lie), speaking of frankie he wears the ghostface mask while hitting it, connie has entered this little universe, masturbation with vibrator (f), clit stimulation, dirty talk, pussy slapping, JUST THE TIP!!!!, no use of y/n, other shit i’m probably forgetting.

A/N: surpriseeeee, i woke up a little too inspired to write and voila, out came this beautiful chapter that i was not expecting to get out so soon. again, this fic has def taken off in ways i never imagined but uhhh, we out here 🖤 thanks to everyone for the support, frankie girlies (gn) i hope i did your man justice 'cause i was feeling a little too feral for him. as for my just the tip stans... we did it joe 🤠 i hope you guys fucking love this the way i do and that you ruined your underwear... just as i did 🖤

The cool autumn breeze sweeps over you as you walk out of the movie theater with Frankie, the Halloween spirit in full swing. Scream 2 was as thrilling as ever, and your favorite of the trilogy.

The fall season always makes you feel nostalgic, and tonight has been no exception—dinner, a movie, and Frankie by your side for the past month has made things feel better than they have been for quite some time now.

“It’s not that hard to escape the bastard,” Frankie says confidently, as if he’d be the first to survive the whole ordeal. “He’s just some guy—or girl—wearing a mask with a knife. I’d have them handled in five minutes. Tops.”

You laugh, humoring him. “Oh, I’m sure you would.”

The parking garage is mostly empty, dimly lit as you make your way to his truck, parked at the top level. You’re talking casually about the film when he suddenly slows down, a mischievous smirk creeping across his face. He corners you slowly, backing you against the cool metal of the truck, his presence looming as you feel the tension rise. 

“Or,” he says, voice dropping lower, “I could be a real kickass Ghostface.”

Your eyes flick to the mask in his hand, the complimentary one that came with the tickets, and then back to him. His dark brown eyes gleam with playful intent, and a thrill shoots through you. “Oh yeah?” you challenge, raising an eyebrow.

He grins, slipping his cap off and pulling the mask over his face. Oh, shit. You’ve never had a mask kink before, but something about Frankie wearing it like this, his body pressing closer, has your pulse racing. 

“What’s your favorite scary movie?” He asks, his voice lowering to mimic what’d you just seen, a smooth yet eerie tone. It’s almost too good, too convincing, and you suddenly understand why people fantasize about this kind of thing.

You bite your lip, your mind swirling with desire as his hand slides down to your hip, squeezing gently. “I don’t have one,” you say, teasing him. You can barely see his eyes through the mask’s slits, but the way his head tilts makes your stomach flip.

“Oh, c’mon, hermosa,” he purrs, “don’t lie to me.”

You giggle nervously, feeling the heat between you both intensify. Glancing around to make sure you’re still alone, you place a hand on his chest, letting it slide down slowly until it reaches his belt. He grunts in response, his free hand gripping the back of your head tightly. The pressure sends a shiver down your spine, and you whimper softly.

“You’re liking this, aren’t you?” He asks, voice muffled slightly by the mask but dripping with lust.

“More than I’d like to admit,” you breathe out, your body reacting instinctively to his touch. And before you can process it, your jeans and underwear are being pulled down to your mid-thigh. Frankie wastes no time, maneuvering you into the backseat of the truck. You’re bent over, ass out, hands pressed against the cool leather as you hear him undo his belt, the sound of his zipper punctuating the quiet.

He’s quick, efficient, rolling a condom over his thick cock before positioning himself behind you. His hand grips your hip as he thrusts into you, and you gasp as he fills you, the mask still firmly on his face. 

It’s fucking amazing. Frankie fucks you like no one ever has—not like it’s for show or performance, but feverent and real. Each thrust hits the perfect spot inside you, sending your vision into a haze of stars. You’re more vocal than you’ve ever been, moaning his name, asking for more.

“Harder,” you whine, and he obliges, his nails digging into your hips as he pounds into you relentlessly. His grunts mix with your moans, the sound echoing in the empty parking garage. 

When he’s close, he finally pulls the mask off, tossing it aside before leaning down, kissing and nipping at your neck. His fingers move below you, rubbing at your sensitive clit as you clench around him, your orgasm rushing through you.

His teeth graze your skin as you both reach your peak, your body trembling as he groans, his release following yours.

He stills inside you, breathing heavily against your neck, and for a moment, everything is still—just you, him, and the night. You smile, feeling content, and he presses a soft kiss to your shoulder before slowly pulling out, leaving you both breathless in the backseat of his truck.

“Well, fuck.” Frankie curses under his breath, tying the condom off with a quick motion. His hands, now gentler, reach for yours as he helps you up, both of you quickly fixing your clothes and appearances.

Once you’re situated, you spin around to face him, your fingers lightly brushing his jaw as you lean in to kiss him. It’s sweet, and the soft smack of your lips echoes through the empty parking garage.

“That was amazing,” you say, still a little breathless, your heart still racing in your chest.

A smirk plays on his lips as he puts his cap back on and tosses the used condom in a nearby trash bin. “Gonna have to hold onto this,” he says, nodding toward the Ghostface mask, now thrown carelessly into the backseat. There’s a playful gleam in his eyes, that flirty, teasing edge you’ve come to expect from him.

“It was definitely a heat-of-the-moment thing,” you say, trying to play it cool, though you can’t help the little grin tugging at the corner of your mouth.

“Mhm, sure it was.” He winks, sliding into the driver’s seat beside you as he starts the engine, the rumble of his truck echoing as he pulls out of the garage.

The streets are alive with the Halloweekend night crowd. People spill out of bars, laughter and chatter drifting through the air as Frankie navigates through the bustling costumed scene. You catch sight of a group of friends stumbling onto the sidewalk, and you’re grateful that your apartment’s entrance is around the back, away from all the noise and chaos.

Frankie pulls up across the street from your place, parking the truck and turning to you with a slightly furrowed brow. “Not really a fan of your current living arrangement,” he says, his tone casual but his eyes serious.

You shrug, reaching for your purse. “Beggars can’t be choosers,” though you can’t deny you’ve felt the same way. The cramped apartment above a rowdy bar wasn’t your dream setup, but it’s what you’ve got for now.

Leaning over the console, you peck his lips once, twice, then again. What starts as a series of playful kisses quickly turns into something more, your hands finding his stubbled jaw as his fingers graze your thigh. Before long, you’re fully making out again.

When you finally pull away, your lips tingling, you ask softly, “Wanna come up?”

He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, his eyes search yours for a moment, considering something. But then, with a slow nod, he says, “Yeah, okay.” His voice is steady, but there’s that familiar heat beneath it, the same one that had you wrapped up in the backseat earlier.

The following morning is spent with the both of you lazily lounging around your apartment, only leaving to pick up  a late breakfast from your favorite spot around the corner before you’re back in bed, sleeping the day away.

You’re barely aware of the warm breath ghosting over your inner thighs as you shift in your sleep, legs lazily spread across the bed. A sleepy moan slips out when you feel soft lips pressing against your pussy, then a firmer kiss followed by a slow drag of a tongue. 

You stir, half-dazed, your fingers instinctively moving to the unruly curls of hair between your legs as the sensation intensifies. Frankie’s lips latch onto your clit, sucking gently, and it sends a shock of pleasure through your body, waking you up fully.

“Oh,” his name slips from your lips like a breathless confession. 

You can feel his grin against you, hear the low groan vibrating through your sensitive flesh as he takes his time, his tongue swirling around you in lazy circles, savoring your taste.

Just for a second, a flash of something—or someone—else crosses your mind. Javier. The thought of him, of the way he’d made you fall apart that day in the elevator, flickers in your mind like a flame.

Your eyes fly open in shock, and you gasp, but Frankie is none the wiser. He assumes your reaction is all because of him, and that only spurs him on. His lips press harder against you as he brings two fingers up, spreading you open gently before sinking them inside. 

You shake your head, mentally shoving him back into the recesses where he belongs.

With a determined focus, you let yourself melt back into the pleasure, letting go of everything else. “Pussy tastes so good, hermosa,” he mumbles, as he works his mouth and fingers together, creating a messy, perfect rhythm that has your thighs clenching around his head.

It’s all too much, too good, and you can’t help the way your body writhes beneath him.

Your moans fill the room, louder and more desperate, hips lifting and chasing the pleasure as the tension in your spine coils tighter and tighter until it finally snaps, and you come undone all over his lips and fingers.

Frankie doesn’t stop right away—his lips stay on you, moving with less intensity now, just soft kisses as you come down from your high. He places a final, lingering kiss to your clit before he crawls up your body, kissing a path along your skin. You’re still wearing his t-shirt, your body half exposed, and he grins down at you, his dark eyes sparkling with satisfaction. 

“Figured you needed something to help get you through your shift,” he says, his voice teasing yet full of affection.

You give him a lazy, fucked-out smile, still catching your breath. “It’s gonna help me with more than just my shift, mister. You just gave me something new to add to my spank bank.”

He shakes his head playfully. “Spank bank, huh? Glad to be of service,” he adds with a wink, leaning in for another kiss, slower this time. You can’t help but run your hands over his arms, admiring the small scars, the beauty marks that dot his tan skin.

“Are you coming back tonight?” You ask softly, your fingers tangling in the curls at the nape of his neck, pulling him down for a peck.

He sighs against your lips before shaking his head. “Can’t. I’ve got Elliana this weekend,” he says, his tone softening as he mentions his four-year-old daughter. You haven’t met her yet, the two of you keeping things casual and slow.

Neither of you wants anything serious, but hearing him mention his daughter always adds a layer of sweetness to him that makes you feel warm.

You nod in understanding, pulling him down for one final kiss before you force yourself to get up and start getting ready for work. He watches you, that same teasing, affectionate glint in his eyes, and you can’t help but smile back at him, grateful for whatever this is between you two.

“You just got fucked, didn’t you?” Connie’s voice hits you the second you step behind the bar, her eyebrows wiggling with mischief as she leans against the counter, arms crossed over her Princess Peach costume that’s not really a costume—just a pink tennis dress with the signature crown atop of her head. 

“Hello to you too, Connie.” You give her a sarcastic smile, securing the half apron around your waist. It’s a routine now—her prying into your business like an investigative reporter for the gossip section.

Reminds you of another blond, and now you wonder if they’re all just like this.

Your firecracker of a coworker is an E.R. nurse who took on this bartending gig a few months after you did. The fact that she has to hustle for tips despite being in healthcare is one of those cruel ironies you both bitch about during slow shifts. You’d think a nurse would be raking in cash, but there are nights here at Lucky’s where she pulls more than at the hospital.

“I’m just saying,” Connie continues, mid-lemon slice, her eyes narrowing in exaggerated suspicion. “You’re wearing your cute jeans, your shirt’s actually clean, and—wait, is that makeup on your face? Please don’t tell me you’re in cat ears!” She pauses, blade in hand, smirking at you like she’s cracked some secret code.

Your face warms up as you adjust the stupid cat ears on your head. Yeah, she’s nailed it—hooking up with Frankie before your shift definitely put some extra pep in your step tonight. A little effort never hurt, especially when looking put-together meant better tips.

It’s Halloween, and people tend to tip better when you’re festive. So, why not milk it for all it’s worth?

“Just capitalizing off the holiday, Con. Is that a crime?” You say, bending down to grab the ice buckets for a quick refill before the evening rush hits.

“No, what is a crime,” she says, not missing a beat as she narrows her eyes at you, tossing the lemons aside, “is you skimping out on the juicy details of your love life.”

You roll your eyes but can’t help the smile that slips out as you hip-check her on your way to the ice machine. “I’m not skimping. It’s not like I’ve been hiding some wild love affair. We only started fucking, what, like two weeks ago?”

“And?” She leans forward, hands on her hips, waiting like she’s tuning in for the next episode of her favorite drama.

You bite your lip, lowering your voice conspiratorially, “It’s… fucking amazing.”

She whistles, then throws her hands up in celebration. You can’t help but laugh—loudly—your mood is too good to even pretend to be embarrassed.

Grabbing the freshly filled ice buckets, you lug them back behind the bar, your arms burning slightly from the weight, but you’re not complaining. Between lugging buckets and keeping the bar stocked, who needs a gym membership?

“I’m so jealous. I can’t even remember the last time I slept with a guy and actually enjoyed it,” She says with a dramatic sigh, leaning her elbows on the bar.

“Trust me, I was in the same boat for the longest time. Then Frankie just… showed up,” you say with a small, satisfied smile. It’s true, he kind of did swoop in out of nowhere, and it’s been surprisingly easy with him since.

But, of course, there’s that brief hiccup in your mind that involves Javier. 

You push the thought of him away, like you’ve been doing for weeks. What happened earlier in bed with Frankie was just a slip-up, your subconscious messing with you.

“Well, I need a guy to just show up and fuck me so I can think straight again,” she half-jokes, and the two of you burst into laughter, the kind that shakes your shoulders and draws a few curious glances from nearby patrons.

As the night picks up, the bar gets busier, and the usual rhythm settles in. You and Connie move in sync, the crowd buzzing with energy.

Costumes, chatter, and the clinking of glasses surround you, but you’re in your zone. It’s not until about two hours later, as you’re pouring someone’s vodka soda, that you catch sight of a familiar face sliding into a barstool in front of you.

“Long time no see, stranger,” you greet Steve over the music, already reaching for his usual piss beer and uncapping it before sliding it across the counter.

“Work’s been fucking ass,” he replies, taking a long, much-needed gulp from the bottle. You can see the exhaustion in his eyes. 

“Robbie still being an asshole, I presume?” You ask, shifting away to take another patron’s order while keeping half an ear out for whatever fresh hell your ex-boss has put Steve through now.

Steve’s attention, though, is fixed on something—or rather, someone—else. His gaze locks on Connie, who’s busy putting on a little show for a group of birthday girls. She’s expertly pouring a line of shots, lighting them on fire, and sliding them toward the group, who erupt into cheers.

“She seein’ anyone?” He asks, leaning in closer, like he’s trying to keep the question discreet. Between the thumping music and the lively chatter, Connie wouldn’t hear him even if he shouted.

You raise a brow. “Like I told you last time—and like she told you the time before—no.”

“Then why’s she always shuttin’ me down?” He frowns, frustration creasing his face.

You shrug, wiping down the perpetually sticky counter. “Probably because you only approach her here, when you’re halfway through a six-pack. Connie’s not looking for bullshit—she deals with enough of that here and at the hospital.”

Steve scoffs, taking another hefty swig of his beer. “Right. You bartenders are tough to crack.”

You smirk, knocking your knuckles on the wooden bar top. “Maybe, but we’re worth the effort.”

Steve chuckles at that. “Now, spill. I’ve barely seen you since I quit.” You’re curious, and maybe just a little petty.

He groans, tipping his head back as if the memory of work physically pains him. And a part of you—maybe the slightly vindictive part—waits eagerly to hear about how Robbie’s screwing up, still secretly wishing for your old boss’s downfall.

“Longer shoots for lesser pay. And the fucking guys he’s been hiring— Christ Almighty. S’been a fuckin’ shitshow since you walked out,” You feel pride swell up in your chest at the remembrance, how good it felt to stick up for yourself. “But especially since Javier kicked his ass to the curb. I’m the last one standing.”

You barely have time to absorb this before a rowdy group of frat boys descends on the bar, demanding drinks with the enthusiasm of toddlers in a candy store.

You want to wring their necks for interrupting your train of thought, especially since curiosity about what happened with Javier is gnawing at you.

Why do you care? That small voice in your head questions, but you put her on mute and focus on fulfilling the orders of these insufferable college students.

Noticing you’re tied up, Steve hops down a few barstools, positioning himself in front of Connie, trying to charm her again. You can’t help but catch snippets of his pickup lines as you whirl about behind the bar. To your surprise, Connie seems receptive this time, laughing and engaging with him instead of brushing him off like before.

Good for her—she deserves a bit of fun, especially after just saying she needed to get laid. You hope Steve has learned a thing or two from all those shoots.

Amid the chaos, you break through their flirting when Connie has to prepare another round of shots. “So, Javier quit?” you ask, the words spilling out before you can hold them back.

Steve, clearly happy as hell that his advances have finally worked, shoots you a smug grin. “Yup. Him and Robbie were arguing more and more then he pulled a you and stormed off set. It’s just him and his agent now. He isn’t signing on to just one production company anymore. Don’t be surprised if you see him sellin’ tricks on Figueroa.”

A frown tugs at your lips, the bittersweet news settling in your chest. You can’t help but feel a pang of sympathy for Javier.

“Why are you askin’? You miss him or somethin’? Thought you were still bangin’ it out with that camera guy from Malibu.” His tone is teasing, reminiscent of a little brother trying to get under your skin.

You snort, rolling your eyes and collecting the empty glasses into a plastic bin. “ I’m just surprised. This is like, his whole thing.”

He shrugs nonchalantly. “Yeah, he hasn’t been working as much. I’ve never seen the guy be this… still. Told him maybe it’s a good thing—he can finally chill the fuck out and give his dick a break.”

You can’t help but laugh, handing him another beer. “I can’t even imagine what else he’d do. Can you seriously picture Javier Peña working a 9 to 5?”

Steve grins, scratching his chin as if pondering the idea. “I dunno, he could be a good car salesman. Maybe even insurance?”

You both chuckle, but as you excuse yourself to put away the dirty dishes, your mind lingers on Javier. It’s like a weird domino effect: your departure had shaken things up, and now a small part of you feels somewhat responsible for this mess.

No, you shouldn’t feel this way. He’ll figure it out. You really shouldn’t waste this much time ‘worrying’ about him. He means nothing to you. End of story.

The rest of your shift flows smoothly, and you end up pocketing more tips than you anticipated. Even the late hour—almost four in the morning—doesn’t faze you as you and Connie finish cleaning up and closing.

“You can stay the night if you want. I’m sure you don’t want to wait for the bus this late,” you suggest, watching her mop with a satisfied smile.

“Actually…” She pauses, wringing out the mop head. Your brows raise at her tone, and she bites her lip. “My ride is waiting for me out front.”

You piece it together in an instant, halting mid-count of the twenty-dollar bills. “No way, you finally gave in to Steve!”

Connie’s face lights up with a sheepish smile. “I thought he was cute since day one. I just couldn’t let him get to me so easily. Play hard to get, you know? See if he really wanted me as badly as he said he did.”

You hum, shaking your head with a grin as you resume counting. “Atta girl. Enjoy yourself, you deserve it.”

As you finish up, you hug Connie goodbye, watching as she excitedly jumps into Steve’s Jeep. You trudge up the creaky stairs to your place, feeling a bit lonely now.

The remnants of Frankie’s presence linger in your cramped apartment: his side of the bed still mussed, a crumpled T-shirt on the floor, and takeaway containers from earlier scattered on your small kitchen table.

With a sigh, you take off your cat ears and head straight for the shower, hoping to wash away the lingering thoughts of both Javier and Frankie before slipping into the quiet of your own bed.

Frankie stands in your living room, his expression serious but soft, while you sit on the couch, staring up at him.

You foolishly didn’t think this would happen—at least not this soon, only two months in. His words are steady, measured, like he’s practiced this. “Elliana’s mom and I… we’re trying to work things out.”

The lump in your throat rises, but you refuse to let it crack your voice. You won’t give in to the urge to cry. It’s not like you didn’t expect this on some level—dating a man with a child meant his ex would always be in the picture. And now, she’s front and center. 

“I understand…”

He exhales deeply at seeing you like this. He sits next to you, close but not invasive, and his presence—still so familiar—only sharpens the ache. You don’t pull away, though everything inside you screams to. Even if this is the right way to end things, you have every right to feel a sting. 

You weren’t serious-serious, but you’d gotten used to him. His easy warmth, the random dates that brightened your week, the small slice of domesticity you didn’t realize you’d grown to like. And the sex… God, you’re not ready to give that up, either. 

“I didn’t mess around with her while we were together. You have to know that,” he adds, his voice low, calm, as if trying to make sure you’re not left with any doubts. He rests his hand on your knee, grounding you in the moment, though you wish he wouldn’t. 

“I know you’re not that guy, Frankie. It just sucks being broken up with,” you say, forcing a smile, lightening your tone as if to keep the tears at bay.

He sighs again, his big brown eyes—those damn puppy eyes—locking onto yours. “I really enjoyed my time with you,” he says, sounding sincere. “It was great. You’re great.”

You nod, just wanting this to be over so you can sink yourself into your sheets and rot for the rest of the day. 

“Likewise, Frankie. Now go make sure your daughter’s got a stable home to grow up in.” You try to smile again, but it’s weaker this time. He can see through it, you know, but he nods anyway.

You walk him to the door, making a quick detour to your bedroom to gather the few t-shirts he’s left behind. When you hand them to him, he grins, trying to lift the mood. “So that’s where these went.”

“Yeah, I’m a bit of a t-shirt hoarder,” you joke back, your voice hollow.

He pauses at the door, his eyes lingering on you longer than you’d like.

“Take care of yourself.”

“You too, hermosa,” he replies, the affection in the word making your heart squeeze.

As soon as the door clicks shut behind him, you let yourself collapse against it, sliding down until you’re sitting on the floor, knees drawn up to your chest. The tears come silently at first, just a slow trickle, but soon they’re streaking down your cheeks as you curl into yourself.

You hate dating. You’ve always hated it. It feels like a cycle of disappointments: either you’re stuck with some dud or, worse, you find someone worth a damn, and they leave anyway. 

After crying it out for a few minutes, you force yourself to wipe away the tears. The ache in your chest lingers, but you’re determined to distract yourself, dragging your feet over to the entertainment center. Your hand glides over the familiar spines of DVDs and VHS tapes, searching for the right kind of escape, something to pair with the bottle of wine you’ll snag from downstairs.

You reach the end of the row and stop on Pretty Woman, about to pull it out, when your fingers brush against a few unmarked DVDs shoved haphazardly in the back. Curious, you pull them out, and your breath hitches.

They’re your old shoots—the first ones you ever did with Javier. The raunchy titles leap out at you, and suddenly, memories of being on set with him flood back. The chemistry, the heat, the way he looked at you when the cameras weren’t rolling.

Your pulse quickens. You should put them back. But you don’t. You weren’t prepared for this— especially not today, freshly dumped, on the verge of a sexual drought, and with your head all messed up.

Fuck it, you have nothing to lose, so you randomly pick one. Pretty Woman gets shoved aside as you clutch the DVD case, a weird thrill running through you.

As if possessed, you march to your bedside table in your bedroom, frantically rummaging for your long-neglected vibrator. It’s been gathering dust since Frankie showed up, but now… now you’re hoping, praying it still works. When you finally find it, you flip it on, and the gentle hum tells you it’s fully charged.

Thank you, past me. You have no idea how much present me needs this.

With a deep breath, you return to the living room and pop the DVD into the player. The screen flickers to life, and you settle onto the couch, heart pounding in your chest as the film begins. 

The anticipation builds as the usual no-piracy warning flashes on the screen, followed by the production company’s intro. Finally, the familiar jazzy porn music kicks in, setting the mood for what’s to come.

You can already feel your pulse racing, knowing what’s next. This one, you remember—it was one of the first outdoor scenes you shot.

The setup was simple, classic: a woman stranded on the side of the road due to car trouble, waiting for a tow truck to save her. The main star, gorgeous as ever, is dressed provocatively in a tiny miniskirt, platform flip-flops, and a tube top that screams easy access. The camera lingers over her, capturing every curve of her body as she fakes helplessness, playing her role perfectly.

Then comes the rumble of the tow truck, and Javier steps out, looking rugged and sexy in dirty jeans and a rumpled denim shirt with a generic towing company patch stitched onto it. His presence alone is enough to make your skin prickle with heat.

“Pretty little thing like you shouldn’t be stuck out here like this,” his voice fills the room. God, you hate to admit it, but you’ve missed hearing him—his smooth tone, the way he used to make every line sound like a promise.

Maybe it’s the leftover emotion from Frankie’s breakup that’s doing this to you, making you feel too much.

“Thank goodness you’re here to help me out. I just... I don’t have any money on me right now to pay for it,” the woman pouts, lips glossy, eyes fluttering up at him like she’s the most innocent thing alive.

Javier cocks his head, eyes traveling over her like she’s a piece of candy. “Don’t worry,” he says, that signature smirk appearing on his face. “I think we can figure something out.”

And just like that, they’re fucking. Raw, desperate sex. He has her spread out on the hood of the car, and her tits bounce with every hard thrust. Javier holds her legs wide open, his rough hands gripping her thighs as he slams into her.

The scene is pure, animalistic lust, and it has your head spinning.

A whimper escapes your lips before you can stop it. Your moans mix with theirs from the TV, and the steady buzz of your vibrator pulses deep inside you. You match the rhythm of Javier’s thrusts, watching as he pistons his cock in and out of her, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling your living room.

You remember that day on set vividly. You’d been sick, your body still sore from the remnants of a cold, and you’d been eager to get it over with so you could go home and collapse into a warm bowl of pho.

But now, watching the scene play out in front of you, it’s like you’re seeing it for the first time—every detail heightened, every movement burned into your mind.

Javier’s fingers dig into her skin as he holds her in place, his hips grinding into her with force. Her face twists in bliss, and you can’t help but imagine what that must feel like, that deep, toe-curling sensation as he hits just the right spot. You let out another moan, the vibrator buzzing relentlessly as you try to keep up with the scene, your hips rocking in time with theirs.

When he leans down, wrapping his lips around her nipple, it’s like you can feel the phantom of his mouth on your own skin. You bring a hand up to your chest, pinching and twisting your nipple, slicking your fingers with spit to heighten the sensation. It’s almost too much, but you can’t stop yourself.

Your breathing quickens as you turn up the setting on the vibrator, the pleasure building, your back bending off the couch. You close your eyes and let your imagination take over, the image of Javier on top of you searing into your mind—his body, hot and heavy, pressing against yours, his teeth grazing your neck, his hands everywhere at once. You can feel him, hear the grunts and groans from the screen, but in your mind, it’s all for you.

“Nena, look at you,” Javier’s voice murmurs, low and rough in your mind, as he hitches your leg higher around his waist, his words melting into your skin like liquid heat. “Told you you’d look so beautiful spread out like this, taking my cock so well.”

A sharp gasp escapes you, your breath catching in your throat as your pussy clenches tightly around the vibrator, which suddenly feels less like a toy and more like him—big, thick, and filling you completely. You can almost feel the weight of him pressing against you, the way his cock would stretch you just right. Your lips part, another whimper escaping as the scene in your head becomes even more vivid.

“And those noises you’re making?” His voice, rich and dripping with desire, keeps echoing through your thoughts. “Baby, you drive me fucking,” his hips snap forward in your imagination, rough and unrelenting, “crazy,” another thrust sending a shockwave of pleasure through you. Your neck arches back, exposing your throat like you’re inviting him to claim you, his mouth finding the sensitive skin behind your ear, marking you, biting you. His lips would feel so good, so possessive, leaving trails of heat wherever they touch.

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” he whispers against your skin, his breath hot in your ear. “Even after not seeing your pretty face for two months, all I see when I close my eyes is you.”

His teeth graze your earlobe, and it sends a jolt of pleasure straight to your core. Your hand moves from your breast down to your clit, fingers rubbing the tender nub with an urgency you can’t hold back any longer. You’re so close, so fucking close. 

“Oh, J-Javi,” you cry out, your voice breaking. “Fuck, I’m gonna—”

The orgasm slams into you, cutting off your words, drowning your thoughts in white-hot pleasure. Your body spasms uncontrollably, juices dripping down as your vibrator hums between your legs. You’re shaking, utterly spent, your breath ragged, skin on fire.

“Good girl, nenita,” his voice purrs, the Spanish rolling off his tongue like honey. “Mira que belleza. It’s okay, I got you.”

It takes a moment for reality to snap back into place, the haze of pleasure lifting just enough for you to realize that he didn’t say it at all. It was the Javier on the screen, whispering sweet praise to the actress as he fucked her.

You lay there, boneless, too tired to care as the movie continues to play. But something feels off now, a strange sense of emptiness replacing the satisfaction you usually feel.

You pull the vibrator from between your legs, the wetness from your climax glistening on it as you flick the switch off and toss it carelessly onto the coffee table. You’ll clean it later.

Your body slumps against the cushions, head falling into your hands. “What the fuck did you just do?” You whisper to yourself.

Watching porn to get off? That’s normal, right? It’s what it’s made for. Lots of people do it. So why do you feel so… guilty? Is it because it was Javier? Of course it is. No matter how hard you try to push him out of your mind, he always finds a way back in—whether he’s there in front of you, or haunting you in the fantasies, you can’t seem to put him to rest.

And the timing? Not even an hour after being broken up with, and already you’ve let him worm his way back into your head, back into your body. It’s like he’s got you tangled up, literally and figuratively, even when he’s not here.

Unable to take any more of their exaggerated moans and whimpers, you reach for the remote and switch off the TV, the screen going dark as you eject the disc and shove it back into its case. You finally grab Pretty Woman, tossing it into the player without much thought, your head still spinning.

It’s only then that you remember the wine, the one thing that might actually help clear your head. You stand, sluggish and sore, pulling your clothes back on and heading downstairs to fetch that much-needed bottle, your thoughts still racing, still trying to untangle the mess that is Javier Peña lodged firmly in your mind.

“Just know, I didn’t plan this.”

Steve’s words make you squint in suspicion as he slides onto the barstool next to you, his usual spot. You’re about to ask what he means when your heart plummets—there he is. The familiar broad frame of the handsome man you’ve been trying—and failing—to scrub from your mind ever since your breakup two weeks ago. Hell, before then too.

“What’s he doing here?” you hiss, shooting Steve a glare so sharp it could cut glass.

“He caught me off guard, okay? Basically invited himself. Don’t make it weird,” he mutters, clearly trying to avoid your wrath.

You bite down hard on your tongue, trying to keep your frustration in check. But then your gaze collides with Javier’s, and it feels like the wind has been knocked out of you.

Those deep brown eyes, glinting beneath the dim lighting, pin you in place, stirring up everything you’ve been trying to bury. It’s infuriating how he seems even more attractive than the last time you saw him, like life just decided to up the ante on making him impossible to forget.

Clearing your throat, you force yourself to look away, frantically trying to busy your hands. Anything to keep from talking to him. But it’s hard to focus when every cell in your body is hyper-aware of his presence just a few feet away.

“I’m going on break!” Connie’s chirpy voice feels like nails on a chalkboard, and you don’t miss the way she winks at Steve before grabbing his arm and leading him to the back.

Ah, so that’s why he’s here earlier than usual. 

“Thirty minutes!” You shout after her, but your heart’s not in it. You’re too preoccupied with the fact that you’re now alone at the bar with Javier and a few of the happy hour regulars.

He leans forward on his elbows, casual but impossibly magnetic in a jean jacket and a cream-colored shirt. His sunglasses hang from the unbuttoned portion near his collarbones, and you can smell that familiar scent of cigarette smoke and cologne that’s been seared into your memory. “So this is the illustrious Lucky’s,” he says, his deep voice wrapping around you like a slow burn.

“The one and only,” you manage to reply, keeping your tone clipped.

“Been doin’ okay?”

“I’ve been managing.” Your words come out a little too quick, a little too defensive, but you can’t help it. 

He tilts his head, his gaze steady. “Still seeing that guy?”

There’s an unmistakable tinge of jealousy laced in his voice, and your heart skips a beat. You meet his eyes for a moment before going back to drying the cheap chalices your boss insisted on for an upcoming theme night.

“That guy has a name,” you correct him coolly. “But no. That ship sailed two weeks ago.”

A low hum escapes his throat, and he drums his fingers lightly against the countertop. “A shame.”

“Can I get you anything?” You ask, a little too forcefully. The question feels like a challenge, and from the way his eyes glint, you know he feels it too.

He lets the tension simmer between you for a moment before finally answering, “Just a Corona.”

“Lime?” 

“Of course, nena.”

That fucking term of endearment hits you like a punch to the gut. It’s what he’s always called you, ever since the very first time you met. And damn it, it’s the same name he whispers in your ear when you imagine him thrusting balls deep inside you, filling you with every inch of his cock.

Your breath hitches before you can stop it, the heat rising in your cheeks as you fumble for a lime. You slice it, hands shaking ever so slightly as you wedge it into the bottle, sliding it across the bar to him.

He doesn’t say anything, just watches you, his gaze burning with the unspoken tension that always builds when you’re around each other.

You can feel it too—the weight of all the unsaid things hanging in the air. All the desire. All the frustration.

He thanks you softly. “So, Steve finally got himself a girl.” He tries to continue the mundane conversation, amused as he leans in, a small smirk playing on his lips.

You try not to notice the way his neck muscles work when he takes a sip of his beer, but it’s impossible not to. You hate the way your body responds, the small flutter in your stomach that you wish would just stop.

“Yeah, he’s been chasing her for months, and she finally gave in. Probably the best thing that could’ve happened for both of them.”

A patron calls for your attention, and you gladly take the opportunity to escape the moment, throwing yourself into mixing a drink with practiced ease. But even as you pour and stir, you feel his eyes on you.

“You look happier here.” His voice breaks the silence when you return, the words almost lazy as he takes another sip of his beer.

“Fake happiness. It’s what gets the tips.”

“Okay, yeah, sure,” he says, leaning in a little, eyes narrowing. “But the way you’re moving back there—you know what you’re doing. I don’t think I ever saw you crack a single smile while we were on set.”

“I did,” you shoot back, feeling your pulse quicken. “Just none of them were directed at you.” The animosity in your tone surprises even you, and you catch the way his brow furrows, a flash of hurt crossing his face.

You quickly smooth it over with a smirk. “Besides, not much to smile about when people are getting fucked stupid in front of a camera.”

“Back to the familiar song and dance, huh?” His voice is steady, but there’s a sharpness beneath the surface.

You scoff, shaking your head as you wipe your hands on your apron. “What are you doing here, Javier?” This time, the question comes out more straight to the point.

He looks at you for a beat, partially confused, “Drinking a beer…”

“At this specific bar, where I’ve worked for two years and you’ve never once showed up until today. Why?” 

For a moment, the two of you stare at each other, locked in a silent standoff. He’s reading you just as you’re trying to read him, both of you too proud—or too scared—to make the next move. Finally, he breaks the silence.

“You want the truth?”

“That’s why I asked.”

“I’ve missed you, nena.”

Your stomach drops and you force yourself to keep your face neutral, but it’s hard. “I regret asking,” you mutter, glancing at your watch. Connie has fifteen minutes left on her break, then you’re done for the night. You’ll be free—at least from the bar, if not from the weight of this conversation.

“Ever since you left,” he continues, not giving you the out you desperately want, “I’ve been trying to figure out why you’re so standoffish. You say it’s because you don’t like me, but I just don’t think that’s true.”

“Well,” you bite out, “assuming has never gotten you anywhere worth being at, right?”

He rubs a hand over his mustache. He’s thinking, trying to find the right words.

“Right,” he finally agrees, tone softer now, more thoughtful. “Listen, I’ve never been good at the whole… talking thing. It’s been my downfall for as long as I can remember.”

Despite yourself, you give him a look that encourages him to keep going.

“And the shit between us? It’s weird. I’d like to move on, but I can’t. You’ve somehow managed to get into every fucking corner of my mind, and no matter what I do, I can’t shake you. I can’t stop thinking about you.”

You suck in a sharp breath, your fingers gripping the wooden countertop. His words hit too close to home because they echo the feelings you’ve been wrestling with since you walked away from him.

Do you admit it? Do you tell him that he’s been haunting your thoughts just as much? Or do you keep it all locked up, close to your chest, where it’s safe and won’t blow up in your face later?

“What do you really want, Javier?” You don’t have time for games, and if he’s here to throw another curveball into your life, you’d rather snip it before it gets any worse.

He pauses, running a hand through his hair, then looks back at you with an expression you haven’t seen in a while—one that’s sincere. “I just want a moment to talk to you,” he says softly. “No bullshit this time. Just you and me.”

You wrestle with yourself, unsure if you want to give in. You’ve heard him talk like this before, but something feels different. He seems like he’s laying all his cards out, but you’ve been hurt enough to know better than to let your guard down too quickly.

Your eyes flick to the clock on the wall, counting the minutes until your shift ends. You chew on your lip, deliberating with yourself, feeling the weight of his gaze on you as you try to make a decision.

Finally, after a beat, you let out a long breath and nod. “I’m off in twenty minutes,” you say, voice steady. “We can talk at my place, but this is the last time we have this conversation, Javier. No more of this back and forth.”

His face lights up, unmistakably relieved, and for a second, you see that glimmer of hope in his eyes. He sits a little taller, less tense, and his smile is soft but genuine. “Thank you,” he says, almost under his breath, like he wasn’t sure you’d agree. “I parked a few blocks down. I can come get you—”

You cut him off, pointing upward. “I live upstairs.”

Javier blinks, then chuckles, the tension between you easing slightly with that simple realization. “Oh,” he says, a little sheepish. “Okay.” For some reason, that small exchange makes both of you laugh—genuine, real laughter, the kind you haven’t shared in a while. It’s a brief moment of lightness before the weight of everything settles back in.

But before either of you can say more, you’re pulled back to the present as the place picks up with a small rush. The door swings open, and a few regulars take their usual spots, dragging you back into your role behind the bar. Javier moves out of the way, leaning back against his stool, watching you as you work.

It doesn’t take long for Connie to return, looking slightly disheveled, her cheeks flushed from whatever she and Steve were up to in the back. You raise an eyebrow, giving her a teasing smirk as she approaches. “Thirty minutes, huh? You sure you didn’t need forty?” You quip, poking fun at her the same way she did to you on Halloween night.

She narrows her eyes at you, but there’s a playful glint in them. “Shut up,” she mutters, straightening her apron. “You know I could’ve dragged it out longer if I wanted.”

You shake your head, chuckling as you hand over the bar to the guy coming in to replace you. Your shift is finally over, and you can feel the tension easing from your shoulders. With one last glance at the clock, you turn toward Javier, who’s still waiting, watching you with that familiar intensity.

“Ready?” you ask, your voice more casual than you feel.

He nods, pushing off the counter to follow you out. Thankfully, Steve had left, but as you pass Connie, you don’t miss the way her eyes widen when she sees the sexy guy trailing behind you. She gives you a look—half amused, half impressed—and you can practically hear her thoughts.

You give her a small wave, shrugging off her knowing smirk as you push through the door, stepping out into the cool evening air.

He follows behind you silently as you climb the narrow staircase to your apartment, the low hum of the bar fading with each step. You can feel his presence like a warm current, that quiet intensity that always seems to wrap around you when he’s near. The proximity makes you hyper-aware of every sound—the creak of the steps beneath your feet, the soft rustle of his jacket as he moves, his shaky breaths from his lungs working overtime due to his constant smoking.

When you finally reach the top and push the door open, you step aside to let him in. He takes a slow look around, his eyes sweeping over the small but cozy space. Despite its shabby appearance—the chipped paint on the walls, the secondhand furniture—it’s undeniably yours.

The throw blankets on the couch, the mismatched mugs on the kitchen counter, the books scattered about. It’s lived-in and comfortable, and you catch the way Javier’s lips twitch in what might be a smile as he takes it all in.

“Okay,” you say, arms crossing as you stand by the kitchenette, keeping a reasonable distance between you. “What now? We’re here. It’s just me and you. What do you have to say to me?”

He hesitates for a moment, running a hand through his hair like he’s bracing himself. Then, he just… spills his guts. “I want you to give me one chance. Just one date,” he says, the words tumbling out faster than you expect. “I know I’ve screwed up before, and I know I’ve been cocky, but… I like you. Like, really like you. More than I’ve let on.”

You blink quickly. You weren’t expecting this—certainly not Javier Peña, of all people, to stand in your apartment and confess to having a legitimate crush on you. “No way,” you mutter, in time with your thoughts, a nervous giggle escaping before you can stop it.

It sounds ridiculous in your head, and even more absurd out loud. He likes you? He doesn’t even know you!

His frown deepens, his jaw tightening as if your reaction stings. “I’m serious,” he’s insistent, his dark eyes locking with yours.

You shake your head, still struggling to process this. “You just got tired of screwing around with all the pretty stars, so now you’re going after someone different. Trying a new flavor of the month by chasing after a girl on the crew.”

“Technically, you’re not on the crew anymore—” he starts, but cuts himself off when he sees the daggers you’re sending him.

He steps a little closer, his tone quieter but more earnest. “You told me earlier that assuming has never gotten me anywhere worth being at. So take your own advice, nena, and stop assuming I’m chasing after you for all the wrong reasons.”

There’s no trace of his usual bravado, no cocky grin or smooth line to disarm you. Just sincerity. And it’s that, more than anything, that makes you pause. For real this time.

“So I’m not just someone to scratch off your list?” You ask, daring him to lie.  

“Wha— no.”

“You really mean it?”  

“Do I need to get on my knees to convince you I’m serious?”  

“That’d be the least serious thing you could do.”  

His mouth twitches up into a half smirk. “So? Will you let me take you out?”

This feels like if you so much as blink, the moment will dissolve—nothing but smoke and mirrors. 

“Okay,” you breathe. “But if it doesn’t work out… then that’s it. You don’t come around here again. You leave me alone. For good.”  

His eyes narrow, but he nods, accepting the ultimatum.  

“Fair enough.” His voice dips into something dark and velvety, a timbre that’s all too familiar. It’s the same voice you’ve heard behind the camera, in the tape that you got yourself off to—low, coaxing, a caress in itself. And damn him, it’s working on you again. “I promise, you won’t regret it.”  

“When?” You ask him.

“You’re the one who works weekends. You tell me.”

“Next Saturday?” You offer, trying to sound casual.

“It’s a date.”  

A flutter of nerves skitters through your chest and you almost laugh again, so giddy, but you clamp down on it.

“Alright... I’ll walk you out.” Your voice sounds awkward to your own ears, but your feet stay rooted to the spot. So does he.  

His gaze sharpens. “You know,” he starts, rubbing his jaw in that infuriatingly familiar way, “Robbie kept saying you ‘broke’ me after that Malibu shoot with Mariella.” He air quotes broke and your expression turns confused.

“Well… he’s an idiot.”  

“He’s not wrong, though,” Javi murmurs, stepping closer, the space between you vanishing.  

Your breath hitches. “Javi…” you warn, but it sounds weak—like a plea dressed as a protest.  

“You were right.” His voice dips again, softer now, but no less dangerous. “Sleeping with barely-legal girls felt... wrong. The whole scene was just fucked. It took me too long to realize it.” He leans in, his breath warm against your skin. “But that’s not what broke me.”  

Your pulse stutters. “Then what?”  

“You,” he whispers, moving closer, until the heat of his body presses against yours. “Your voice. Your eyes.” His gaze dips to your mouth, and your knees threaten to give out. “Those soft lips you won’t let me kiss absolutely fucking broke me.”

Your lower back presses hard against the counter, pinned by the sheer gravity of him closing in. His scent is dizzying.  

Your nipples harden, tightening with each shallow breath you take, the heat between you wrapping around your body like a fever. Now that you’ve stopped fighting it, the tide of lust pulls you under, dragging you into the undertow.

He can’t just say these things to you and expect you to remain sane. Especially not after all your wet dreams he’s been the star of.

“The others don’t do it for me anymore and I’m not popping a pill to get fuckin’ hard.” He cages you in, planting both hands on the counter at your sides. His arms flex, his body crowding yours, then he leans in, his nose brushing the tip of yours in the kind of touch that feels both too soft and too intimate.

“Just standing here with you…” His hips roll forward, pressing against you. The solid ridge of his cock rubs against your stomach through his jeans, and the friction sends a jolt of electricity straight to your core.

You gasp, lips parting as you go weak.

“Oh…” you breathe, shakily, your voice barely more than a whimper. You bite down on your bottom lip, trying to keep some semblance of control, but his gaze locks onto the movement.

“I want to take care of you, nena. Por favor.” His voice drips with need, every word laced with intent. “Let me make you feel good again. I need to make you feel good.”

Memories flash like lightning—the way his mouth felt between your thighs and how it left such an impression that you quit your fucking job (okay maybe not because of that necessarily but it was a butterfly effect)

“Javi…” Your voice is a strained warning, as you press your hand to his shoulder, ready to push him back if you needed to throw some metaphorical ice on this heated moment to chill both of you the fuck out. “I’m not going to fuck you right now.”

“I’m not asking you to…” His hand comes up to take yours at his shoulder into his, bringing it up to his lips to give it a gentle kiss.

God, you just about come right then and there.

“You want to go down on me again?”

He groans, his mouth grazing your knuckles as if tasting you again. “I’ll always want that. Always.” His voice is strained. “But tonight, pretty girl, I just—fuck—I need to feel you.”

“But you just said—”

“I know baby,” he cradles your face and you let him, horny out of your mind and absolutely under his spell. “Just let me put the tip in.”

“What?” You ask, moving back from him to stare up into his eyes.

“The head of my cock. Let me put it in and feel how wet and warm you are.” 

Your thighs clench instinctively, the ache between them growing unbearable. Images of his cock flood your mind—thick, veined, and heavy, flashing like a montage you can’t shake.

The thought of him, so close, pressing inside just enough to tease, makes your breath catch in your throat.

“I-I’ve never done that before... isn’t that—” You shake your head, struggling to wrap your mind around the idea.

“It’ll feel so good, I promise. If you don’t like it I’ll pull out and leave.”

His eyes still hold that sincerity from before, and it tugs at your heart, which has moved its pulse downstairs at the thought of feeling just a little bit of him.

It’s intoxicating, giving you the power to decide just how much of him you’ll take. How deep he’ll bury himself. How much you’ll let him fuck into you. 

A moan slips from your lips, unbidden, and his eyes darken, his jaw tightening at the sound. He’s holding back, but barely—waiting, craving, needing your consent like it’s the only thing tethering him to reality.

“Fuck,” you whisper, already lost. “Whatever, just do it. Do it before I change my mind.”

You squeal as he spins you around, your hands coming up to steady yourself against the counter.

You went out and bought a mini denim skirt after seeing it on the pornstar he fucked in the tow truck scene because you thought it was cute, and now you’re sort of living out that fantasy here with him as he pushes it up high on your hips, exposing your very lackluster underwear.

“Damn…” His hands are all over you, kneading your ass, the rough squeeze of his palms making you whine, back arching instinctively for more. “These are hot as fuck.”

Your cheeks heat up, because no way he thinks your mauve colored hipsters are hot.

He hooks his fingers under the waistband and drags them down your legs, letting them pool at your ankles. You step out of them, still in your sneakers, feeling utterly exposed. But the way he looks at you makes you feel desired.

With a firm hand, he presses against the small of your back, coaxing you into a deeper arch. His hands glide down your thighs, strong fingers gripping where your knee bends, lifting your leg and placing it on the counter. The shift spreads you open for him, your slick, swollen folds glistening in the dim light.

“Fuck...” His voice is pure gravel, rough with need, as he drinks in the sight of you. And then he drops to his knees, right behind you, and buries his face between your legs.

“Oh my—fuck!” you cry, jerking forward against the counter, totally unprepared for the onslaught of his tongue.

He doesn’t hold back—doesn’t ease you into it—just dives in like a man possessed, his mouth working you over with fervor. The obscene sounds of his tongue dragging through your wetness and the desperate groans vibrating from his throat make your head spin. You’re shaking, trying to catch your breath, but it’s useless with the way he devours you.

He licks every inch of your pussy, his tongue flat and broad one second, sharp and focused the next, flicking across your clit with precision. When he sucks the sensitive bud into his mouth, the wet suction sends sparks shooting through your body.

Your forehead thuds against the cabinet in front of you as you babble out his name in breathless, broken curses, pleasure building in tight, pulsing waves. Your legs tremble under his relentless attention, and it feels like he’s not just eating you out—he’s worshiping you, savoring every moment like a man starved.

“Javi—oh my—fuck!” You can barely string two words together, the intensity of it dragging you closer and closer to the edge.

His hands grip your hips, holding you steady as he buries his face deeper, groaning like he can’t get enough of you. And god dammit, you love it. You love the way he’s lost in you, the way his tongue moves like he knows exactly how to pull you apart. It’s filthy, messy, perfect.

He pulls back after a few minutes, reluctantly breaking away from the warmth of you, even though every fiber in his body begs him to stay—tongue, nose, and fingers lost in your sweetness for hours, watching you unravel again and again. He forces himself to move, savoring the way your breath stutters in frustration at the loss.  

The soft metallic clink of his belt buckle being undone makes your heart race, and your pussy clenches reflexively, aching to be filled.  

“Mmm, she’s ready for me, isn’t she?” He’s so smug, watching the way your cunt flutters at the mere thought of his cock sliding inside you. Even just the tip.  

You don’t answer—you can’t answer. The anticipation has stolen every word, every coherent thought from your brain. All you hear is the pounding rush of blood in your ears.

Javier steps in closer, the heat of his body pressing against your back. His hand snakes around you, rough fingers brushing your chin before hovering just beneath your lips.  

“Spit,” he commands, his tone low and firm.  

Like the desperate thing you are, you part your lips without hesitation, letting a hot thread of saliva drip into his waiting palm.  

A deep, approving grunt rumbles from his chest. “Good girl.”  

Your cheeks burn at the praise, and you clench again as he takes your offering, wrapping his wet palm around the thick length of his cock. He strokes himself slowly, hissing through his teeth, the slick sound of his fist dragging over his shaft making your breath hitch.  

Then, without warning, you feel the velvety head of his cock glide through the slick folds of your cunt.  

Both of you shudder—your soft whimper mingling with his guttural groan.  

He drags the swollen tip along your slit, gathering your arousal, and when he nudges it against your throbbing clit, your hips jerk instinctively.  

“Relax, bella,” he warns, his hand tightening on your waist to steady you. “Unless you want me to bust my load all over this pretty clit right now.”  

That filthy mouth of his makes you want to slap him—and kiss him—until you both can’t breathe.  

He keeps teasing you both, swirling the sensitive head over your clit again, tapping it lightly against the swollen bundle of nerves. Your thighs tremble with need, and your pussy clenches again, desperate to take him inside.  

“Fuck,” he groans, his voice gravelly with restraint as he lines himself up with your entrance. “So fucking wet…”  

He tilts his hips just enough to press the head of his cock against your dripping hole, and you gasp, your body instinctively arching toward him.  

“¿Lista?” he whispers, his voice softer now, more intimate. He leans in, pressing his lips to the crook of your neck, trailing gentle kisses over your skin between ragged breaths.  

You nod frantically, not trusting your voice to form words.  

Then, slowly—achingly slow—he pushes the tip inside.  

“That’s it, pretty girl,” he murmurs, lips brushing the shell of your ear.  

A sharp, breathless moan escapes you as he stretches you open, your cunt greedily sucking him in. The sensation is electric, overwhelming—just enough to tease, just enough to leave you craving more.

Your mouth falls open in a silent scream. Why the fuck does this feel so good?

Javier groans, forehead pressed to your shoulder, his cock twitching inside you as he fights to keep from plunging deeper. “Puta madre nenita, this pussy esta tan rica.” 

He stills, savoring the way your tight heat wraps around just the tip of him. His blunt fingernails dig into the skin of your hips as he struggles to keep his hips from moving.

But you can’t help it. Your hips move on their own, rolling back just enough to take more of him inside, the smooth slide of his length sending sparks through your body. A whimper slips from your lips as your walls clench around what little of him you have, the stretch so good it has your eyes fluttering shut, your head tipping forward.

“Don’t. Fucking. Move,” he growls, low and dangerous, and the sound of it shoots straight to your cunt.

You whine softly, biting your lip, as he drags the inches you stole back out, leaving just the swollen head nestled at your entrance. The tease is unbearable, like dangling water in front of someone dying of thirst.

“Javi, I can’t help it,” you moan, the frustration bubbling over into a pout. Your hand drifts down between your thighs, fingers brushing your slick, needy clit. You need something—anything—to relieve the pressure.

His hand is lightning fast, grabbing your wrist and yanking it back to the counter. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” He sounds almost offended.

“I need to feel something,” you whimper, shifting your hips desperately against him.

He clicks his tongue, as if scolding you, his lips brushing your ear. “You’re already feeling the head of this cock, aren’t you? And you’re still being greedy, trying to touch this pretty little pussy after I told you I’d take care of you.”

His hand slides from your waist, gliding lower, fingers hovering just above where you need him most. The promise of his touch makes your thighs quiver, and you let out a desperate little whine, arching your back in a silent plea.

“Tell me what you want,” he demands, his voice low and rough, thick with control barely held in check.

You know exactly what he looks like—jaw tight, eyes burning with hunger, teeth gritted as he holds back from sinking all the way into you. And it makes you ache even more.

“Touch me, Javi, please,” you beg, your voice a breathy, needy little mewl. You throw your head back against his shoulder, looking up at him through half-lidded eyes, batting your lashes shamelessly.

A low, satisfied hum vibrates from his chest, and his fingers finally press against your slick, swollen folds. He groans softly as he feels how you’re stretching around the head of his cock, his fingertips tracing the puffy lips before circling lazily over your throbbing clit.

“Ohhh, just like that,” you moan, the sound slipping from you naturally, raw and unfiltered—nothing like the exaggerated performances he’s used to. This is real, and it only makes him harder.

“Fuck me,” he mutters, his breath hot against your neck, “I can’t wait to ruin this pussy, nenita. Gonna make you feel better than any malparido before me.”

His fingers keep working your clit, slow and steady, each stroke dragging you closer to madness. Your hips start to grind against his hand and the blunt head of his cock, desperate for more, for everything.

And the way he’s talking—like you’re his to wreck, his to please—makes you feel like you’ll lose your mind.

You suck in a sharp breath, feeling the jealousy dancing on his fingertips as he works your clit faster, his movements switching between precision and wild hunger.

He rolls the sensitive bud between his thumb and forefinger, pinching it just hard enough to make you gasp. Then, his touch softens—soothing circles, spreading your slick everywhere—before he tugs at your swollen nub, sending shocks of pleasure deep into your core, like fireworks are exploding down there.

“Tell me,” he growls, voice rough with possessiveness. “Did he fuck you good?”

The blunt tip of his cock stays snug at your entrance, and every pinch, every flick of his fingers makes your walls clench greedily around it, desperate for more.

“W-Who?” you whimper, genuinely lost in the haze of his touch. Your mind has melted, everything but the sensations he’s feeding you slipping away like vapor.

That answer pleases him—makes something wicked curl in his chest. His grin presses against your neck, and the wet heat of his tongue drags a slow, deliberate stripe along your skin. Then, he bites down, sucking hard, marking you in that one spot you’ve only ever dreamt of him nipping at.

“That’s what I like to hear,” he murmurs, voice dripping with satisfaction.

Your hand finds his hair, fingers tangling in the thick strands, tugging hard enough to make him groan against your neck. The heat swirling in your belly tightens to a near-breaking point, your orgasm creeping up on you with every flick of his relentless fingers.

“Javi—fuck—I’m gonna cum,” you pant, voice breaking, sounding needy and pitiful.

“I know, baby,” he rasps. “I can feel her gettin’ all tight and messy for me. C’mon, nena, let it happen. I’ve got you.”

He keeps his pace steady—no sudden changes, no wild moves—just the same focused rhythm he’s built up, making your nerves sing, each flick and stroke a perfectly calibrated promise of release.

Your body responds like it always does for him: beautifully. His name falls from your lips like a sweet song. Your hips grind instinctively, chasing the steady friction of his slick fingers.

“More, Javi—oh, please—more,” you gasp, knowing exactly what you need, what only he can give you. You’re ready for him to shove deep inside, to fill you, stretch you, ruin you with the thick cock still teasing your entrance.

If you had said this maybe five minutes ago, he would have obliged, but he’s got a point to prove now. And that point is restraint—his self control.

“Not tonight, pretty girl,” he murmurs darkly, laden with lust and dominance. “You’re gonna come just like this.”

Then, without warning, his hand shifts, and he slaps your pussy—once, twice, three times. The sound is wet and obscene, and the sharp sting sends a shockwave straight to your core.

That’s what breaks you. Your orgasm crashes over you like a violent, unstoppable wave, ripping through your body with terrifying force.

“Fuck—Javi!” you scream, your walls fluttering and pulsing wildly around the head of his cock, soaking his hand in your release as your legs threaten to give out beneath you.

He groans, watching you unravel for him, every twitch and spasm feeding his ego. His fingers don’t stop—stroking you through the aftershocks, coaxing every last drop of pleasure from your trembling body.

Your vision swims, your breath coming in ragged gasps as the euphoria leaves you floating, weightless. And even though he hasn’t buried himself inside you like you wanted, somehow, this feels even more intimate—like he’s branded himself into you without needing to fuck you at all.

The way your pussy grips him sends a shudder down his spine, and with a strangled curse, his balls tighten, his climax hot on the heels of yours. 

“Fuck—” he groans, yanking his cock out just in time, the thick spurts of his cum painting your slick, swollen pussy, making a filthy mess.

Both of you pant, trying to catch your breath, the room heavy with the scent of sex. A sharp hiss escapes your lips as his fingers slide lazily through your soaked folds, mixing the remnants of both your pleasure. When he gathers the sticky blend on his fingers and brings them to your mouth, the hunger in his gaze makes your heart race.  

“Have a taste, baby.”

Without hesitation, you part your lips, taking his fingers into your mouth, swirling your tongue around them with obscene enthusiasm. You moan at the heady, salty taste—like liquid sin on your tongue. It’s addictive, and you suck greedily until his fingers are spotless, releasing them with a wet pop that makes his eyes darken further.  

You glance up at him over your shoulder, lips slightly swollen from your efforts. 

“You okay?” he asks, his tone soft.

You nod, still dazed, your pulse thrumming beneath your skin. “Better than okay. That was... wow.”  

His soft grin blooms into a cocky smirk, and he helps clean you up before gently moving your leg off the counter. As he tucks himself back into his jeans, you adjust your skirt, smoothing it down with shaky hands.  

“Where are my panties?” you ask, glancing around, still floating in the afterglow.  

He reaches into his jacket pocket, pulling them out with a sly grin. “Oh, these?”  

You reach for them, but he swiftly lifts them out of reach.  

“I think I’ll hold onto them.”  

Heat rises to your cheeks as you narrow your eyes at him, but the lazy, satisfied smile on your lips betrays your mock indignation. “Why? Perv.”  

His grin widens, unabashed. “A little memento… to remind me of this. I’ll give them back next Saturday.” He slips them back into his pocket.

You roll your eyes, too blissed out to care. “I can’t believe we just did that.”  

He steps closer, wrapping his arms around you, the warmth of his embrace catching you off guard. After all the resistance you’ve given him, letting him hold you like this feels foreign.

“Told you it’d feel good,” he murmurs smugly, his lips brushing your temple. “Didn’t think you’d be the one to cave first and beg for the whole thing, though.”  

You scoff, giving his hip a playful pinch. “I got caught up in the heat of the moment, okay? You might’ve scored a date and... a semi-fuck, but I’m still sticking to those boundaries. For now.”  

“Does that mean I still can’t kiss you?”  

Oh, hell. He’s already been inside you—well, kind of. What’s one little kiss? But no. You’re trying to make a point here.  

“Nope,” you reply, stopping him with a finger pressed lightly against his lips just as he leans in. “Not until you buy me dinner first.”  

His smirk deepens, and instead of protesting, he kisses the tip of your finger. 

“Deal.”

started a tag list for my works here, so if you're interested— pls check it out 🖤

🏷️ : @almostempty . @auteurdelabre . @magneticecstasy . @miss-oranje-disco-dancer . @pepperstories

@greenwitchfromthewoods . @maiyart . @pedrohoe04 . @natalieispunk . @thewisesalmon . @bitchesuntitled @puddles221b . @swankyorange . @bbyanarchist . @thottiewinemom . @heyhihello-4771 . @persephone-girl .

🏷️ : @pasc4lfuzz . @sjc7542 . @almostfoxglove . @shy-taylorsversion . @theredvelvetbitch

@xxbadchoicexx . @lumpatto . @haylee-e . @yxtkiwiyxt . @guelyury . @itwasntimethatdidit40 . @la-vie-est-une-fleur29 . @thundermartini . @correapunk .

[jjenthusee]

🎃 Halloween Shenanigans 🎃

Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader

A/N: In preparation for October, I wanted to write some small Halloween drabbles that seemed so hilarious in my mind ☺️ ENJOY :) leave any comments and reblog <3

Tags: lame jason makes me giggle, unhinged jason, clingy jason??

Check out Pt. 2 here!

“You can’t be serious.” You eyed Jason up and down, judgement written all over your face.

He stood in his full Red Hood gear, holsters strapped on his legs, helmet shined, and leather jacket worn.

“What? It’s perfect.” He stood up from the edge of the bed, walking closer to you.

“It’s a Halloween event and you’re dressed up as yourself?!” You felt the vein popping up in your head. “I thought you were supposed to keep your identity…oh, I don’t know…hidden?”

“I’ve done it before, no one bats an eye. Heh, ya get it?” Jason chuckles at his accidental lame joke.

You raised an eyebrow, he was not taking any of the concern seriously.

“Sweets, it’s fine. Have you seen how many shitty Robin and Nightwing outfits there are? There’s nothing to worry about.”

—

“You take that back!” Jason pointed a finger at the stranger testing his patience for the night.

“No! Your costume sucks!” A little boy dressed in a Robin costume yelled back at Jason. The small domino mask on his face slowly slipping from his nose the longer he raised his voice. Their difference in height was laughable if it weren’t for Jason arguing with a literal child. “You painted the Red Hood symbol wrong and your jacket sucks too!”

You were feeling a headache itching into your head.

“What?! Kid, I’m the real fuc—“

“Okay! Okay, my friend here has had too much candy for the night.” You yelled louder before Jason could finish his sentence, glaring at him before you turned around back to the young child.

“Friend?!” You heard Jason yell from behind your back as you crouched, he was getting more offended by the second.

“Hush!” You harshly whispered back to your boyfriend.

After you were eye-level with the kid, you promised to let him rummage in your bag of candy. Letting him pick out anything from the selection while Jason paced back and forth murmuring to himself at the disadvantage he was in.

The boy was actually a nice kid as he told you about how his dad helped him sew the costume together. He was yapping away in his excitement as he took one of the full-sized candy bars that you brought to give out to other kids.

“I died and this is what I have to deal with? How about you take a crowbar—“

You swung your head back while the kid was distracted, frowning at the large man behind you. He immediately didn’t finish his thought at your unamused look, but instead settled for crossing his arms across his chest as he glared down the boy still talking to you.

Before the boy left, he told you he had lost his dad before he ended up at your front door.

Once you calmed the kid down and promised to help, Jason followed you out to try to find the boy’s dad, but there was still unsettled tension in the sudden enemies who walked next to you as you searched.

Every time Jason tried to get closer to you, the kid switched sides holding onto your hand, becoming a tiny barrier in between the two of you.

You kept your head forward, not acknowledging the two fighting behind you as the kid stuck out his tongue and Jason subtly trying to whisper back insults.

Once you found the father, you were finally relieved. You were receiving thanks from the boy’s dad before Jason kneeled down to see the boy at eye level. They stared at one another as they seemed to be having a semi-friendly conversation.

You eyed the two while you finished your conversation, not believing them to be suddenly getting along.

“You better watch your back.” Jason quietly talked.

“You’re not scary.” The boy glared, his expression not seen from where you stood.

“What’s wrong with the kids these days?” Jason murmured under is breath. “My gear—costume isn’t lame.”

“It’s lame. You don’t even have your guns. Red Hood has guns.”

With a large sigh from Jason and your side glance burning the side of his head, he gave in as you wondered what the two of them were talking about.

“I’ll buy you a large soda and another big candy bar if you hug me, so I don’t get yelled at later.”

“Two sodas.” The child negotiated.

“You’re pushing it, kid.” In one tilt of his helmet, Jason watched you smile to the man. “Deal.”

When you looked back, the two supposedly bickering enemies were embraced in a friendly hug. You watched in confusion, but the boy’s dad was cooing at how well they got along.

“Say ‘You’re so cool’ and you’ll get two candy bars.” Jason whispered at the side of the boys head while they still hugged.

The kid loudly yells his words, mimicking an excited tone.

“Oh, you two get along so well, thank you for finding my son. You two lovebirds enjoy your night.” The dad left with his son and his large haul of candy and other sweets.

You watched as they walked away in the opposite direction of your home.

The Red Hood standing next to you was surprisingly quiet, no quick remark or other insult.

Before you were about to grab Jason’s waist to turn around, the small figure caught your eye.

While you half held Jason, you watched as the young boy stuck out his tongue in one final jab at the man in your arms.

“You little—I can’t believe that lil’ shit got free candy outta me.” Jason puffed, finally deciding to raise the white flag of surrender.

You couldn’t hold back the smile on your face. A gentle laugh leaving you as you couldn’t see your boyfriend pout, but you knew him so well that you could imagine it under the helmet.

You nudged Jason, guiding him into a walk back to your home.

He had squeezed you by the shoulder, letting his arm rest around you and you reciprocated a loose arm around his waist.

“How much money did u lose on the kid?” You grabbed onto his gloved hand hanging in the air, intertwining your fingers. The momentum of your steps pushing you into a leisure stroll.

“$10 and so many snacks. Lil’ fucker knows how to negotiate.” Jason spoke through gritted teeth.

You laughed into the night air, remembering the image of them glaring at one another.

“You met your match tonight, Mr. Red Hood.” You smirked.

[beloveds-embrace]

I’m not sure if you’re taking anymore requests but can you do poly141 who finds a small fairy reader? Mystical reader so little she fits in their hands?

Tiny baby reader… yes. Fair warning i wrote this while sleepy and tired and i completely forgot to add in when reader learns their name 😭 sorry for any more mistakes!

The forest was unusually quiet, blanketed in mist that made every breath feel cool and crisp. It was the kind of morning that seemed unremarkable, easy to forget. They walked carefully along the narrow path, hunting gear packed away in favor of simple jackets and quiet conversation. Retirement had given them, once a formidable task force, the luxury of slow days, but old habits died hard; their senses remained keen, always searching for any change in the air.

And that’s when they saw it- a flicker of light, faint and trembling, deep within a thicket. It could have been a trick of the morning sun, but they hadn’t survived as long as they have by chalking up everything strange, unusual think to happenstance.

“Careful.” John murmured, voice low and commanding. They nodded, pushing through the brush with quiet purpose and carefulness, until the glimmer came into focus.

There, tangled in a web of thin brambles, was something neither war nor time had ever prepared them for- a tiny, shimmering, actually-real fairy, no larger than the palm of a hand. Your wings, gossamer-thin and glowing with iridescent light, fluttered weakly as you tried to free you. You turned your head, eyes wide and filled with a mix of fear and exhaustion, and they all felt their breath catch.

Soap was the first to recover. “Bloody hell,” he whispered, his voice tinged with awe. He took a cautious step forward, hands up as if approaching a skittish animal. He couldn’t believe his eyes, but you are real. You are actually real. “Hey now, it’s okay. We’re not gonna hurt ya.”

The fairy- you -watched him warily, but there was a flicker of hope in your gaze. Gaz crouched next to Johnny, brows furrowed. “We need to get her out of there,” he said, his voice gentle. “Quickly.”

Johnny nodded, already reaching into his pack for a small knife. “Don’t move, all right, wee one? We’ll get you free.” He kept his movements slow, mindful of how fragile you seemed. With careful precision, he began cutting away the brambles, each snip bringing a little more freedom and a little more light. Price and Ghost kept watch over them, cautious still but not really that worried considering your size.

When you were finally free, you collapsed, too weak to stay upright. Gaz caught you, cradling you in his hands as if you were made of glass. “You’re safe now.” he murmured, his eyes soft. He could feel the faint warmth of your glow against his skin, like holding a tiny ember. More proof that you are real, even if it seemed so impossible.

Your wings twitched, and with a shaky breath, you looked up at them. “Thank…you,” you whispered, your voice barely more than a sweet chime in the wind.

“You are talking,” Soap breathed, a childlike wonder lighting up his face. “You talk.” It makes you giggle just a little, if you are honest with yourself. Your wings attempt to flutter behind you, but they are not Quite Right. You shift on your feet, visibly unsure now.

John stepped closer, his gaze warm but measured, and bent down so his face was at the same level as your body. “Easy there. You’ve been through a lot, haven’t you?” His thumb, calloused from years of wielding weapons, gently brushed a stray leaf from your hair. He had to be extra careful, extra slow so as to not alarm you, and then holds his hand out for you to step into. “Your wings aren’t moving right, are they? We can help you.”

You shake your head slowly to his first question, looking away from his eyes. You’d never really approached humans before… always too big and scary, but there four were nice, at the very least. You and your unique magic couldn’t sense anything particularly bad from them, so that’s why you hadn’t immediately tried to fly far, far away from them.

You lean into John’s touch, sitting down and holding onto his thumbs for stability. You do know out of all of them, you still haven’t heard the masked one speak, just felt him bore his gaze at you, but you don’t care. “Where… are we going?” You ask instead.

“Near our cottage,” Price said, voice low and soothing. “Not far. We can bring you there, get you warm and fed, and you can let your wings rest there.”

You nodded slowly, exhaustion overcoming you. John held you close while they comtinued walking back. As you rested, your glow dimmed to a soft warmth that seeped into his palms and made them glow, a quiet reminder of your presence. The journey back was filled with silent glances- each man marveling at the fact that something so otherworldly, so impossibly delicate, had chosen to trust them.

When they arrived at the cottage, Soap carefully laid out a small, soft cloth on the table, creating a makeshift bed for you to rest one while Kyle thought you’d enjoy having a different option, so he placed a leafy pot nearby for yoh. Ghost silently set a thimble of water nearby while John stirred a pot on the stove, filling the room with a comforting aroma. You drank slowly, savoring every drop and feeling strength return to your body, to your wings.

“Better?” Ghost asked you at last, voice low, his eyes never leaving you. You nodded, a grateful smile breaking across your face despite the hints of fear caused by his mask. You didn’t see it, but there was a collective untensing of shoulders, worry lessening.

Over the next few hours, you spoke in halting words, telling them of the storm that had torn through the woods and separated you from your kin. They listened with full attention, not interrupting you. Kyle even offered you a finger to lean on when you shivered a little, reminded of the pain while you recounted your tale. But after that, you continue your rest, now the one asking them questions and learning who they are.

By evening, you were still nestled in the soft, makeshift bed near the fire, your wings catching the flickering light. As you drifted into a peaceful sleep, your light grew stronger- very content in your warm spot, and feeling safe and secure from wild animals and the weather outside. Occasionally, you feel different hands and fingers brush across your head, and each time it makes you let out a happy squeak, uncaring for the conversations happening in the background.

You wonder if they’d let you stay with them…

[acey-wacey]

HIHI!!! I LOVED YOUR CHARACTER IS JEALOUS OF TSUM FIC!! (please I'm begging write more, it's too good)

Of course! I'm glad everyone liked them so much :)))

...

Jealous of Their Tsum

Feat Lilia, Rook, Kalim

...

🦇 Lilia Vanrouge 🦇

You're honestly used to Lilia popping out to scare you around campus.

Ever since you'd seen that Lilia had gotten an adorable doppelganger, you knew it would come to find you, just like the seemingly young boy always did.

It wasn't entirely unexpected when a little plushie landed on your head.

You were monetarily startled by the sudden ambush but you soon realized it was Lilia's tsum.

You laughed as the tsum blinked it's little dot eyes at you expectantly.

"You got me so good, Lilia-tsum," you praised the little bean while it hopped into your head and shoulders in glee. "Very scary."

You grabbed the tsum from where it was bouncing on your head and held it to your chest.

"You are just so adorable! I can't handle it!"

The tsum wiggled happily in your grasp and you pressed kisses to it's fabric forehead.

"How come I never get this when I scare you?"

You turned around to find Lilia hovering upside down behind you.

He did that to you so often you weren't even startled anymore.

You just smiled and flicked his forehead, earning a shocked stare from the boyish fae.

"Try being cuter next time."

Lilia frowned and dropped to the ground, landing gracefully on his feet.

"Is this face not cute enough for you?"

Lilia pouted at you with his best sad puppy dog eyes.

You, now immune to Lilia's antics, went right back to pressing smooches to his adorable tsum.

Lilia narrowed his eyes at the smug plush.

"Traitor," he whispered under his breath.

He could've sworn the tsum winked at him.

"If you want some affection, Lilia, you should try asking," you said nonchalantly while nuzzling your face into the tsum's.

Lilia vaguely sensed a trap but he would rather die than lose the object of his affections to a stuffed version of himself.

"Well then, my darling," he batted his eyelashes at you, making you smile. "Please?"

...

🏹 Rook Hunt 🏹

Rook left his tsum alone for 5 seconds and it was already gone.

Of course he couldn't expect anything less.

Curiosity was in his nature so of course his plush doppelganger would run away to explore a new world.

The tsum happily explored the NRC campus pausing often to appreciate the beauty of the unfamiliar world.

However, when you walked by on your way to class, the tsum was immediately entranced by your beauty.

It bounced after you and followed you around with hearts in its eyes.

After a while alone, you had begun to wonder what the strange noise from behind you was.

You turned around only to find an adorable round plushie hopping up and down on the ground.

It looked suspiciously like Rook so you narrowed your eyes at it.

"Have you been following me?"

The tsum squinted its eyes happily.

You laughed and bent down to look closer at the little creature.

"If I tell you to stop, will you?"

The tsum shook its body in what you assume to be a no.

"Just like the real Rook then," you groaned lovingly and unbuttoned the breast pocket of your jacket, opening it to the tsum.

"If you're gonna be here for a while, might as well get comfy, eh?"

The tsum eagerly hopped into your pocket and squirmed around with glee.

"You're actually kinda cute, you know that?"

You said to the tsum with a faint smile, scratching its head with one finger.

The plushie nuzzled into you and you patted it back affectionately.

"I must say, prefect, I am awfully jealous."

You smiled at the familiar sound of Rook's voice and paused, waiting for him to show himself.

You never looked around for him because you knew seeing you startled and frantic was just what he wanted.

Little did you know it was what he loved most about you.

"The great Rook Hunt, jealous of a tiny plushie," you said with a smug smile in your voice. "How low you have fallen."

Rook almost instantly appeared beside you with a sly smile.

"Not nearly as far as I intend to for you, mon chou." Rook clutched his chest dramatically. "But to see your affection passed on to one so similar to me and yet so different, oh, it breaks my fragile heart."

"Then I'm sorry, Rook, but your heart will have to stay broken as long as my adorable little pocket pal is around," you patted the tsum again, earning a joyful bounce.

Rook only sighed in response.

"There may yet be a day when I replace my fiendish friend as the object of your affections but until then, may you know my heart waits for you, my love."

You were frustratingly flustered by the sudden confession.

Rook always said sappy stuff like that but for some reason, it hit different this time.

You didn't say anything until he began to walk away.

"Hey, wait!"

Rook shopped to look over his shoulder at you.

"Come on, Rook," you groaned with a blush dusting your cheeks. You lifted the tsum out of your pocket, much to its dismay, and set it gently on the ground. "You don't get to say something like that and then walk away without kissing me!"

Rook smiled and ran to wrap you in his arms.

"If this is my reward, I should get jealous more often."

...

Kalim Al-Asim

Kalim and his tsum are inseparable, much to Jamil's chagrin.

It's hard to find one without the other especially when it comes to you.

Both Kalims flock to you as soon as they see you.

On one notable occasion, Kalim-tsum was a bit faster to bounce after you.

The plush launched into your arms, causing you to drop the notebooks you were holding.

You scowled lightheartedly at the adorable tsum in your arms.

"I don't suppose you're going to help me clean this up?"

You raised an eyebrow at the tsum but it just cocked its head at you.

You sighed and set the tsum onto your shoulder as you bent down to pick up your books.

"It seems every version of Kalim is determined to cause me trouble," you sighed, booping the little critter on the nose.

It wiggled its little button nose and hopped backwards on what you assumed was a sneeze.

You laughed and took the plushie back into your hands, tucking your books under your arm.

"I can't stay mad at you, you're too cute!"

You looked at the tsum helplessly susceptible to its charms.

"Hi, Y/N!"

You looked up to see Kalim running toward you.

He saw the tsum in your arms and beamed at you.

"I see you found my doppelganger! Pretty cool, right?"

"Yeah, he's pretty adorable," you cooed as you pinched the little things cheeks.

Kalim pouted and set his head on your hands right next to where you were holding his tsum.

"Why does he get to be adorable and not me?"

You held back a laugh at the puppy-like glint in Kalim's eyes.

The tsum hopped up onto Kalim's head and you took the opportunity to grab Kalim's cheeks and bring your face close to his.

"You're a whole different kind of adorable."

At that, Kalim beamed, automatically squishing his face into your hands.

That did earn a laugh from you and you couldn't help but kiss his nose.

"You are the absolute cutest, Kalim. No tsum can top that."

[solxamber]

Possessed || Ace Trappola

Something’s going on with Ace. He's being nice which either means he's possessed or has done something extremely illegal. (Spoiler alert: It's neither)

“You’ve been weird,” you say, squinting at Ace from across the cafeteria table. “New levels of weird. Scary kinds of weird. Are you possessed or something?”

Ace just leans back in his chair, balancing it on two legs with that infuriatingly carefree grin plastered across his face. He tosses a piece of bread into his mouth before raising an eyebrow at you, clearly not fazed by your accusation.

“I wish,” he responds with a dramatic sigh, rolling his eyes. “Then I could blame all this weirdness on a curse or something and not just... you know, life.”

You cross your arms, not letting him brush it off so easily. “No, seriously. You’re being freaky. You helped me carry books to class the other day. Without asking for a favor in return.”

“Yeah, so?” Ace shrugs, but the slight twitch in his grin gives him away. “Maybe I was feeling generous.”

“Maybe you’re losing it,” you counter, leaning forward. “Since when do you do anything without an ulterior motive? I’m starting to think you’re planning something.”

“Me? Plan?” Ace feigns innocence, one hand over his heart. “You wound me, Prefect. You’re thinking of Azul, not me.”

“Nice deflection,” you deadpan. “But it’s not just that. You haven’t pranked Deuce all week.”

Ace’s smirk falters. “Okay, first of all, Deuce is too easy to prank. It’s like dunking a biscuit into water and calling it an achievement. Second—”

“I heard that!” Deuce calls out from the next table over, turning around to glare at Ace.

“You were supposed to hear that,” Ace shoots back without missing a beat, tossing a crumpled napkin at his friend.

You wave your hand in the air, trying to reel the conversation back in. “See, this is what I mean! You’re off your game! The Ace Trappola I know would be messing with Deuce every chance he got. Not sitting here, being... helpful and nice. You even opened the door for me yesterday.”

Ace looks horrified. “Wait, I did?”

“Yes! And you said something ridiculous like, ‘You can go first.’ It was spooky.”

He seems to visibly recoil, his face scrunching up as if he’s genuinely disturbed by the thought. “Wow. That is scary. Who am I turning into?”

“That’s what I’m saying!” you exclaim, throwing your arms in the air. “You’re possessed!”

He leans in toward you, voice dropping conspiratorially. “Okay, real talk? Maybe I’m evolving.”

“Into what, a decent human being?” you ask, sarcasm dripping from every word.

“Ha. Ha. Very funny.” Ace rolls his eyes again but leans closer, his expression strangely serious now. “Look, I’m just trying to... I dunno, be more... considerate.”

You squint at him, not buying it for a second. “Why? Who put you up to this?”

Ace huffs, running a hand through his hair, his face growing a little red. “No one put me up to anything, alright? I just thought... maybe you’d like it.”

Your mouth opens, then shuts. You’re not sure what to make of that.

“What?” Ace asks, noticing your bewildered expression. “Cat got your tongue?”

“No, I’m just... processing. You’re being nice because you think I’d like it?”

He shrugs, averting his gaze now. “Yeah, well... you’ve been giving me a hard time lately, so I figured, why not? You know, mix things up. Be nice for a change.”

“Uh-huh.” You narrow your eyes, suspicion creeping back in. “But... why me?”

Ace avoids eye contact, his fingers fidgeting with the edge of his collar. “Does it matter? Just... shut up and let me be nice, okay?”

You stare at him for a long moment, trying to figure out what’s going on in that mischievous head of his. Finally, you let out a sigh, leaning back in your chair. “Fine. But I’m still convinced you’re up to something.”

Ace smirks, the cheeky glint returning to his eyes. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Over the next few days, Ace continues acting suspiciously... well, nice. He doesn’t trip you in the hallway or throw random jabs at your study habits like usual. He even brings you snacks during lunch—without eating half of them first.

It’s weird. Unsettling, even.

And every time you ask him about it, he brushes it off with a nonchalant “just felt like it” or “don’t read too much into it, Prefect.” But his little quirks keep poking through. Like when he sneaks up behind you, pretending he’s going to scare you, only to offer a helping hand with your bag. Or when he gives Deuce a hard time, only to turn around and cover for him when he forgets his homework.

Deuce, for his part, seems equally as confused. “Is he dying or something?” Deuce whispers to you one afternoon. “He’s not usually this nice unless he’s pulling something.”

“I know, right?” you whisper back, eyeing Ace from across the courtyard where he’s currently chatting with a group of students. “It’s unnatural.”

“He even let me borrow his notes last night,” Deuce continues, shaking his head. “His good notes, too. Not the ones he scribbled in crayon to mess with me.”

“Okay, now I’m seriously concerned,” you mutter. “He’s definitely plotting something.”

But the more time passes, the less it feels like a trick. There’s no punchline, no grand reveal. Ace is just... being Ace, albeit in a more considerate, slightly awkward way.

One evening, you’re leaving the library when you spot Ace waiting for you outside, leaning against a wall with his usual lazy posture. He looks up as you approach, flashing you a casual grin.

“Yo, Prefect,” he calls out. “Need help with your stuff?”

You raise an eyebrow, adjusting the books in your arms. “Are you really offering, or are you about to ‘accidentally’ trip me again?”

Ace chuckles, pushing off the wall and walking over to take some of the books from you. “What, you don’t trust me by now? I’ve been an absolute angel lately.”

“Yeah, and that’s the problem,” you retort, but you let him take the books anyway. “You’ve been too nice. I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

Ace smirks, walking beside you as you head toward Ramshackle. “Maybe I’m just growing up. Becoming a responsible, dependable guy.”

You snort. “Now I know you’re lying.”

“Hey!” Ace protests, nudging you with his elbow. “I’m serious. I can be responsible when I want to.”

You side-eye him. “Sure. And pigs can fly.”

Ace rolls his eyes, but there’s a soft smile on his lips. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“Takes one to know one.”

The two of you walk in comfortable silence for a while, the moonlight casting long shadows on the cobblestone path. It’s peaceful, almost... nice.

Then, out of nowhere, Ace speaks again, his tone quieter this time. “So... you really think I’ve been weird lately?”

You glance at him, surprised by the question. “Yeah, kinda. Why?”

He shrugs, looking up at the sky. “I dunno. Just curious.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “Are you seriously still playing this ‘nice guy’ act? What’s your angle, Ace?”

He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he stops walking, turning to face you with an uncharacteristically serious expression.

“There’s no angle,” he says softly. “I just... wanted to see if it’d make a difference.”

You blink, caught off guard by his sudden sincerity. “What do you mean?”

Ace rubs the back of his neck, looking unusually nervous. “I mean... I’ve been trying to... y’know, be a better person. For you.”

Your heart skips a beat, but you’re not sure if it’s because of his words or the fact that he’s actually being vulnerable for once. “For me?”

Ace avoids your gaze, his cheeks tinged pink. “Yeah. I figured... maybe if I stopped being such a jerk all the time, you’d... I dunno... like me more.”

You stare at him, your mind racing to process what he’s saying. “Wait. Are you... confessing to me?”

Ace scowls, clearly embarrassed now. “Ugh, don’t say it like that. You’re making it weird.”

“You’re the one making it weird!” you shoot back, feeling your face heat up. “I didn’t ask you to go all soft on me!”

Ace glares at you, but there’s no real malice behind it. “Well, excuse me for trying to be nice for once.”

There’s a beat of silence as the two of you stand there, staring at each other, before you both start laughing.

“You’re an idiot,” you say, shaking your head.

"Yeah, but you hang out with me anyway," Ace finishes with that signature smirk of his.

You roll your eyes, but there's no denying the truth in his words. There's something about his brash honesty, his ability to keep things light even when they're serious, that you can't help but be drawn to. His quick wit, the way he keeps you on your toes—it's always been part of his charm.

"Maybe I do," you admit, crossing your arms and giving him a playful look. "But you're still a jerk sometimes."

Ace grins wider, stepping a little closer. "Oh, I'm totally a jerk. But I think that's why we work so well. You need someone to challenge you, and I need someone to keep me in check."

You snort. "So that's why you've been weird? Trying to impress me?"

Ace shrugs, his gaze softening just a bit. "Something like that. I just... didn't want you to think I'm always messing around. Sometimes, I actually want to be serious."

It's strange hearing him say that, but in a way, it makes sense. You've always known there was more to Ace than the mischievous, carefree front he puts up. He's clever and observant, and maybe—just maybe—he's been paying attention to you in ways you hadn't realized.

"So, what now?" you ask, feeling the tension between you shift from playful to something a little more... real.

Ace takes a breath, glancing up at the stars for a moment before meeting your eyes again. "I dunno. Guess I was hoping you'd say something like... 'I like you too, Ace.'"

You can't help the smile that tugs at your lips. "And what if I do?"

His eyes widen, just for a second, before his cocky grin returns in full force. "Well, then that'd be great. 'Cause I'd say I like you too, Prefect"

You both stand there for a moment, the air between you charged with something new and exciting. It’s not the usual back-and-forth banter, not the endless teasing. This is real, and Ace’s normally confident posture seems just a little unsure, like he’s still figuring out how to navigate this new territory.

"Alright, fine," you say, your voice softer now. "I like you, Ace."

He blinks, clearly taken aback that you actually said it. For once, he's the one who seems at a loss for words.

"...You serious?" he asks, sounding almost vulnerable. It's a rare thing to hear from him, and it tugs at your heart just a little.

You nod, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks. "Yeah. I mean, you've been acting all weird and nice, and it kind of freaked me out, but... I get it now. And I like you too."

Ace lets out a relieved breath, his grin softening into something more genuine. "Well, that's good. 'Cause I was starting to run out of ways to be nice. It’s exhausting."

You laugh, the tension finally breaking as the two of you slip back into the ease that’s always existed between you. But now, there's something more. Something deeper.

"So," you start, tilting your head at him, "does this mean you're going to stop being a jerk to me?"

Ace snorts. "Nah, that’s part of my charm. Besides, you’d get bored if I went all soft."

You roll your eyes, but you're smiling. "Fair enough."

Without warning, Ace reaches out and ruffles your hair, grinning like a kid who’s just won a prize. "You know, you're not too bad. Maybe we can make this thing work."

You swat his hand away, laughing. "Maybe. If you stop being so weird."

"Deal," Ace says, though you can tell from the look in his eyes that he’s already planning his next prank.

Deuce, who’s been watching the whole thing from a distance, finally decides to pipe up, calling out to the two of you from the other side of the courtyard. “Hey! Did you guys seriously just confess? In front of me?”

Ace turns around and shouts back, “Yeah, what of it?”

Deuce groans, looking exasperated. “Couldn’t you have waited until I wasn’t around to witness that?”

“You’re just jealous!” Ace calls, slinging an arm around your shoulders with a triumphant grin.

Deuce rolls his eyes but grins anyway. “Yeah, yeah. Just don’t go getting all mushy on me.”

Ace laughs, giving you a sidelong glance. “No promises.”

And as you walk back toward the dorms, Ace’s arm still around you, you can’t help but smile. It’s a weird, unexpected kind of happiness, but somehow, it fits. Just like Ace.

Masterlist

[domjaehyun]

there's a stranger in my house (l.jn)

PAIRING. lee jeno x fem!reader 

GENRE. thriller, smut

CONTENTS. major character death, seriously dubious consent that turns noncon (please believe me when i say this), spitting, unprotected sex, fear play, oral (fem receiving), anal play, degradation, praise, biting, marking, ass smacking, mirror sex, non-consensual filming, choking, hair pulling (receiving), manhandling/strength kink, some role play 

WORD COUNT. 3.8k

SUMMARY. something’s not quite right about jeno, and you’re not sure what it is.

PLAYLIST. stranger in my house - tamia

NOTES.  hiii well. i can’t explain myself. important context is the movie “us” by jordan peele but if you haven’t seen it, i try to explain without explaining. READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION. happy birthday to my dear dear dear friend @renjunfocus!! i hope you all like it and don’t come tell me if you didn’t 💖 but if you enjoyed it, by all means let me know! 

“Jeno, please be safe tonight.” you say worriedly as he adjusts his costume in the mirror. “Halloween is scary; people are always doing something fucked up.”

“I’ll be as safe as possible, baby.” Jeno assures you, turning to face you with that crescent-eyed smile you love. “Plus, I’m literally dressed as a cop; they might think it’s real.” 

“True,” you hum, nibbling your bottom lip worriedly as you take in his appearance. “You look really… really good, Jeno.”

“Oh, yeah? Can I get a kiss for looking this good?” he asks hopefully, and you smile, leaning in to kiss him sweetly on the lips, Jeno chasing after you as you pull back.

“There’s more where that came from when you get back home.” you promise, and he gives you a cute frown before straightening back up and smoothing out his costume one last time.

He pulls you into a hug as he always does before he leaves and when he comes back, and you breathe in deeply, his comforting scent of peppermint body wash, a soft musk, and baby powder enveloping you.

He presses a kiss to the side of your head and slowly retracts from you, a hint of reluctance in his movements.

“I’ll see you in a couple of hours,” he bids you goodbye, blowing you a kiss before exiting your bedroom and, you deduce when the front door shuts, your apartment.

You decide to get cozy in bed and wait for him to come home while you read a book you’ve been neglecting recently, but it’s only about thirty pages in before your eyelids start to droop and you find yourself curling up under your covers and drifting off to sleep.

When you wake up, it’s with a start, sitting straight up in bed when you hear the front door shut roughly. You wait for Jeno to make his way into your room, surprise and confusion filling you when he appears and—

“You changed your costume.” you point out, and he looks down at it as if he’s forgotten.

“Some girl spilled her drink on me at the party, so Jaemin loaned me his spare costume.” Jeno answers with a shrug, and you nod.

“It’s hot,” you admit with a grin. 

He chuckles as he draws closer to you. “Oh, yeah?”

You nod encouragingly. “The robber thing is kind of a 180 from the police officer, but it’s really hot… kinda makes me a little flustered.”

“Oh, really?” he teases, and you nod again, slower this time. 

“The ski mask is a good touch; kinda scary, too.” you compliment, and his gaze darkens as he looks down at you.

“Are you scared, then, baby?” he questions, and you can hear the grin in his voice. “Hm? The big, scary robber’s making you nervous?”

“Oh, yes, mister robber, sir, please! You can take all my money, just please don’t hurt me!” you plead, clasping your hands together and blinking up at him through your lashes.

“It’s not money I want, sweet girl,” Jeno growls through his ski mask, his voice muffled but still so convincing and deeply unsettling that you feel apprehension creeping up on the back of your neck. “Sit on the windowsill,” he grunts, jerking his chin towards the bay window beside your bed, and you climb to your feet, obediently moving to sit at the edge of the windowsill. The seat is cold on the backs of your thighs, making you wince slightly, and you find yourself drawing back in fear as Jeno stalks towards you and stands before you, practically looming menacingly over you.

He slams his hands down on either side of you loudly and suddenly, making you yelp in panic. “Relax,” he purrs, lowering himself so he’s eye level with you. “So pretty,” he rasps, tilting his head to the side as he watches you, but the compliment fails to warm your cheeks the way it usually does, because this time, it sounds… foreign and unfamiliar to you. It’s a type of observation Jeno’s never demonstrated before, your loving boyfriend usually eyeing you with adoration, love, or fondness in his eyes. Tonight, it’s different. It’s almost… sadistic in its fascination, as if the flashes of fear behind your eyes are fueling him somewhat.

You’re so focused on decoding the entirely unsettling look Jeno’s giving you that you don’t notice one of his hands sneaking up behind your back until his fingers are looping in the locks at the base of your neck and tugging your head back roughly. His eyes darken at the flash of panic and pain across your face before he’s ripping the ski mask off and practically smashing his mouth against yours, kissing you more ferociously than he ever has before. He’s all sharp teeth and forceful tongue, the wet, thick muscle bullying its way into your mouth as you whimper for mercy. His tongue swirls around the inside of your mouth possessively, coating every last bit of it with his saliva like he’s marking his territory.

He pulls back slightly before spitting directly into your mouth just as you go to gasp for air. You promptly choke on his saliva, coughing and spluttering pathetically as tears spring to your eyes. You’ve barely recovered before Jeno stuffs two fingers into your mouth, parting them in a V so your lips are stretched horizontally, and he wags his tongue lewdly in the open space of your parted lips, licking against your tongue with long strokes punctuated by guttural grunts of delight. 

He spits once more, a long drop of saliva landing on your tongue, and you whimper in protest, shaking your head in refusal.

He cups your chin in his hand with a firm, almost too tight grip, staring you down challengingly. “Swallow it. Take my spit in your mouth like the good little slut you are.” 

You blink back tears of confusion and hurt as you do just that, swallowing his spit, and he smiles, pleased as he pats your cheek roughly.

“Good.” he grunts, releasing you and knocking your legs apart with two quick slaps to your inner thighs. He drops to his knees between your thighs and yanks the straps of your satin nightie off your shoulders, tugging the fabric down to reveal your bare breasts. He pinches at one nipple, twisting until you squirm away from his touch. He latches onto your neck, biting roughly and sucking harshly and working his way downward until marks are blooming all over your sensitive, buzzing skin.

When he gets to your breast, he looks up at you, studying your reaction when he sucks as much of your breast into his mouth as he can fit. You hiss in surprise and move to push him back slightly, finding yourself overwhelmed by the intense sensations, but he snatches your hands out of the way, linking them together in his larger one before trapping your hands between your legs. He sucks on your nipples roughly, rapidly flicking his tongue over the buds and even nipping at them every once in a while, and you can’t tell if you want to moan or cry.

After what feels like ages of inner turmoil, he releases your breasts from his greedy clutches, your nipple slipping from his lips with a loud, wet, pop sound. He leaves a trail of bite marks down from the underside of your breast to your stomach, where he sinks his teeth into your flesh so roughly that you fear he’s aiming to draw blood. He pulls back when there’s a clear indentation of his teeth on you, marks that are sure to bruise, and spreads your legs as wide as they’ll go. 

“Been dying to taste this pussy,” he grunts under his breath, and you swallow thickly, watching him warily as he drags his tongue up your folds forcefully. Spreading your folds apart with two fingers, he prods the thick tip of his tongue against your entrance. You gasp in surprise when he slithers his tongue into you, the muscle fat and long as he moves it around along your inner walls. “Delicious,” he groans, dragging his tongue over your hole and relishing the way your hips jolt.

When two thick fingers push into you without warning, a weak moan falls from your lips at the surprise of the stretch. Jeno grins cockily, and it hits you what’s different: there’s a hollowness to his every emotion, like there’s a lack of… humanity to it.

Something about him is off; he's not acting like the man that loves you. He's touching you with the desperation of a man that's never had you before. He even smells different; like smoke, ash even, and something metallic and dark. What clues you in the most that this is not your boyfriend is that his signature scent, his personal blend of musk, is nowhere to be found. This man smells tangy, sharp, and strong, a heady blend but most importantly enough, not your boyfriend's blend.

This man is not Jeno.

“Um,” you pipe up tentatively, and he takes a minor break from licking at your core to look up at you with a raised eyebrow. “Who are you?”

With your question, the energy in the room shifts completely; a smile nothing short of sinister appears on his lips, and there’s a wicked glint in his eye that has you clutching at the windowsill.

“What’s wrong, baby?” he asks, and there’s an attempt at tenderness, but it all feels so deceptive, like he’s pantomiming an emotion he’s never experienced. “You don’t recognize me?”

“No,” you say breathlessly. “You’re not Jeno.”

“Smart girl,” he replies before lowering his head to return to eating you out. When you start to close your legs from fear and panic, he growls threateningly, the sound guttural and unnatural, and moves faster than you could’ve thought possible. He pushes the bay window open behind you, the bottom of the window swinging out, and forces you back and down until your torso dangles precariously from your tenth floor apartment unit.

“If you make any wrong moves, I will drop you.” he threatens, and you whimper in terror, the wind chilling your cheeks and rushing through your hair as you dangle, contorted partially upside down, at the mercy of this man who looks just like your boyfriend yet behaves like anything but. “Unless you’ve always wanted to paint the concrete with brain matter, I’d stay still.”

You nod vigorously in understanding, letting your trembling thighs fall apart once more, and he hums appreciatively.

“Like I said,” he remarks as he attaches his lips to your clit, “smart girl.” He sucks roughly at your sensitive bud with lewd moans and wet smacking noises and if he can hear your sniffles and whimpers of fear, he doesn’t comment.

The hand not keeping you in your life-threatening position strokes against your folds, parting them and pushing two fingers back into you, starting to pump them in and out.

“I’ve been waiting for this for too long.” he mumbles against your folds before proceeding to sloppily make out with your core, tongue slurping and licking at every drop of arousal that drips out of your poor hole. “Waited in the shadows, listening to that bastard fuck you every night—”

“Every night?” you gasp, and he chuckles darkly.

“I’ve been watching you both for some time now.” he informs you, fingers moving in and out of you while he speaks as if it’s the most casual conversation in the world. “He was a real fucking soft guy, huh?” 

“Was?!” you squeak in alarm, and he laughs loudly, fingers speeding up cruelly and hooking into your g-spot, making it abundantly clear to you that you’re about to cum, whether you like it or not.

“Oh, he’s not coming back, baby,” he says with an audible grin, malice laced in the pet name he so evilly threw back in your face. “Unless anyone at that Halloween party can perform open heart surgery.”

“Oh, my God,” you whimper, and you’re not sure if it’s from abject horror or your rapidly approaching climax. The unmistakable sounds of his fingers squelching in your arousal fills the inside of the room, loud enough for you to hear it from your precarious pose halfway outside. “Please, you have to stop, I don’t want to cum—”

“Do you think I give a fuck what you want?” he spits back at you, and you flinch at the venom in his voice. “All my life, we’ve been forced to mimic you all up here like puppets while you get to do whatever the fuck you want. Now it’s time to do what I want, and I? I want you to cum all over my fingers and my tongue.”

“Please—” you whisper, and he shushes you, the sound adjacent to something close to loving, but lacking any real sympathy; he must have heard Jeno soothing you at some point and mimicked the sound to the best of his abilities. 

“Cum, baby,” he urges, fingers pistoning in and out of you rapidly before he curls and fucks them directly into your g-spot and brings you to a powerful climax that you wish you could explain away to your guilty conscience. His lips wrapped around your clit, he sucks hard and flicks his tongue over the sensitive bud as you ride out your high against his face. 

When you’ve recovered somewhat, he looks up at you with a wicked grin, lips still glistening with your arousal. 

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” he taunts with a sly grin, and you just sniffle forlornly in response. “Get up, baby—wanna feel that pussy around my cock next.” He pulls you up unceremoniously, shutting the window behind you and guiding you to the bed. He plops you down on the mattress and hovers over you, encroaching on your space bit by bit until you’re lying with your back on the bed and your legs are reluctantly spread to welcome him in. “You scared?”

“Yes,” you whimper, and he pouts at you, not a hint of sympathy in his expression. 

“Good.” he chuckles darkly before lining his thick tip—thicker than Jeno’s—up with your entrance and pushing into you with one fluid motion. You grab roughly at the sheets at the intrusion, gasping out loudly, and he seals his mouth over yours to silence your cry of surprise, tongue pushing into your mouth and licking into it filthily. “Relax, you’re never gonna take it well if you don’t relax.”

How the hell am I meant to relax when you killed my boyfriend and are in my home about to do Lord knows what to me? You think, but you refrain from mouthing off just yet.

He pushes down on your lower abdomen, groaning in delight as he feels the bulge of his length dragging along your inner walls, and you let out a choked-off squeak as he stretches you to your limits and fills you impossibly deep. 

“That’s it, pretty little thing, feel me nice and deep right here,” he growls, starting to move his hips faster to fuck into you at a gradually building pace. His hand slides up your stomach to twist your nipple before continuing up to cup your chin and turn your face towards the mirror by the door. You shake your head vigorously, not wanting to see yourself like this, but he holds fast, practically smushing your cheek into the comforter. “I want you to watch as I ruin you.” he urges, and you whimper in protest. 

Your face looks nothing short of fucked out, and he’s just gotten started; your eyes glassy with unshed tears, a few tear streaks sliding down your cheeks, and your jaw feels permanently dropped open as he fucks into you at a brutal pace. His sinewy arms hold you in place as he bullies his cock into your tight hole and his abdomen tenses with every thrust, tight muscle tensing and flexing in a regrettably attractive way.

He reaches in his pocket and takes out his phone, holding it up and aiming it at you. “Smile, baby; you’re on camera.” You reach to cover your face and chest immediately, crying out in protest when he snatches your hands away. “Don’t tell me you’re camera-shy,” he taunts cruelly. “That loser never filmed you two fucking?” 

“No,” you say pleadingly, and he tuts in disapproval.

“Sight as pretty as this can’t go to waste.” he decides, moving the phone closer to your face. Fresh tears spill forth, and he licks his lips slowly, watching one tear in particular drip down your cheek before leaning down and licking a fat, wet stripe up your cheek where the tear track was. “God, and now you’re crying—it’s like you’re trying to make me cum.”

“No, I’m not, please, I’m not—” you beg, and he shushes you impatiently, brows furrowed in concentration.

“Yes, baby, you’re gonna make me cum nice and deep in this tight little pussy—gonna fuck you full of my cum—” he grunts, and you squirm under his hold desperately, fighting to get free. “That’s it, struggle a little bit for me—so fucking hot,” he mutters before bringing his forearm to your throat to press down harshly, constricting your airway. “Not too much, now—don’t want you getting away from me.”

“Please—” you croak out, struggling to breathe. “Can’t—breathe—”

His smile only widens and two things dawn on you: one, he could very well kill you right now, and two, there’s no way in hell you’re going down without a fight.

You reach up and claw at his forearm, scratching as hard and as deep as you can, and to your alarm, he grins widely, even among the wince in his expression.

“Love that little fighter in you.” he growls, pressing down harder, so hard you fear it might bruise. “Can’t wait to break it.”

Your vision starts to cloud, black spots forming in your line of sight, and you can feel your consciousness slipping away from you even as you try desperately to remain awake and free yourself. It all proves to be in vain as you slip away from this world, barely able to hear his faint murmur of “That’s it,” before you pass out completely.

When you come to, your throat is sore and you can’t move your body. Your vision spins as you take in the sight of your bedroom, eyes squinting reflexively as the glare of the television hits your retinas.

You turn your head this way and that only to see, to your horror, that your hands and feet are tied to each bedpost with thick, coarse rope. No matter how hard you tug, there seems to be no breaking free, and panic creeps up your still hoarse throat, hot and thick and dully aching. 

The television catches your attention once more, your mind focusing on it in an attempt to calm yourself down, and you watch whatever’s on, your brain catching up quickly.

“...in what reporters everywhere are calling the ‘Doppelgäng​er Takeover,’ recent news has shown that people are being viciously attacked and some even killed by someone that looks exactly like them. If you see someone behaving not quite right, stay back and do not approach; they are known to be violent and highly dangerous.”

Your breathing hitches and starts to shallow rapidly as you start to hyperventilate, tugging harder and harder on your restraints. 

“They won’t budge,” Jeno’s voice calls out, and you flinch, whipping your head around to find the source of the sound. Jeno emerges from the hallway, now clad in a short sleeved black tank top and dark gray sweats. “You can thank Jeno’s mom for that; she signed him—and therefore me—up for Boy Scout training when we were eight.” He steps further into the room, dark piercing eyes scanning your frame trembling with fear. “Her precious Jeno never quite got the hang of the knots, but me? I mastered them.”

A terrified whimper slips from you before you can stop it, and his lips quirk up into a wickedly delighted smile.

“What should I, um…” you swallow thickly before continuing, “call you?”

“Jeno.” he replies easily, and his keen eyes catch the almost imperceptible grimace that takes to your lips at his answer. 

“What are you going to do with me?” you ask worriedly, and he raises an eyebrow.

“I’m going to keep you.” he states plainly, and your body stills entirely, fear igniting in your bloodstream and leaving you close to paralyzed. 

“What about my doppelgänger?” you question, not knowing what answer could possibly make you feel better at this point.

“I got rid of her.” His answer is simple again, and you suck in a breath of surprise. “She’s not as fun as you.”

“Fun?” you croak, and he nods, a gleeful smile on his lips as he nears the bed slowly.

“Doppelgängers are essentially a ‘crude’ copy of the ‘original’ person,” Jeno explains, making one-handed air quotes around the words he spits with disdain, “and only the ‘original’ person has a soul.” 

“So… so that means—”

“I don’t have a soul.” Jeno confirms with a hollow laugh made all the more terrifying now that you know he’s literally hollow spiritually, devoid of humanity. “None of my people do.”

“And you want my soul?” you ask fearfully, and he snorts in amusement, shaking his head.

“You really are cute, you know that?” he chuckles. “I’m not going to take it from you,” he says, waiting until your body slackens with relief to add, “I’m going to break it.”

“What does that mean?” you whimper, fresh tears spilling from your eyes. “Jeno, what do you mean?”

“I want you to understand that this is your reality now. I don’t want there to be any fight left in you at all. But you people are like that… hopeful,” he spits the word with disgust. “Your spirits are like a fire that won’t go out. Every once in a while, there’s a little,” he pauses to scan your face, eyes brightening with excitement when he catches sight of your eyes, no doubt reading the fear, fury, and desperation you have to save yourself— “ember… that sparks up, and I’m going to be here to snuff yours out every… single… time.” He’s close enough to bring his mouth to your ear, lips grazing the lobe and making you shudder with revulsion. “You’re not going anywhere unless I say so.”

You don’t say anything, setting your jaw firmly and staring straight ahead to ignore him. Maybe he’ll get angry enough and kill you, putting you out of your misery.

“There’s that little fighter,” he remarks with fascination. “I saw a hint of it earlier when I was choking you; that fight to survive, to live—you fucked my arm up pretty badly, I was impressed.” he remarks, extending his arm to show you the deep, angry, red cuts clawed into his forearm he’d wrapped around your throat just hours ago. His other arm emerges from behind his back, and your eyes widen when you see a Hitachi wand in his hand, his thumb already resting on the “on” button. “I am going to have so much fun breaking you.” he rasps with unrestrained excitement as he turns the vibrator up to the highest setting.

well.........congrats for making it to the end!! *insert obligatory "i definitely don't think jeno's like this" part that technically doesn't need to be there considering that wasn't jeno* i hope you liked it and if you didn't.... well sorry ig tune in next time for a lovey dovey fic 💖

[dnvrsmedia]

i fear the voices are making me write for sev again (i miss her bad)

so

sevika falling for nerd!reader (this is totally NOT self indulgent wdym??)

SFW

You both met when silco decided to hire you

And by hire you, he threatened to kill you if you didn’t acquire the money your father owed him (he didn’t care if your father died. he needed his money some way or another)

You, being a modest engineer, did not have much to offer

Except for your brains

Sev was definitely skeptical about you when you first landed on the team (but let’s be fr when is she ever open minded and welcoming)

She was tasked to keep you company whilst doing your various tasks (silco calls it bodygaurding, sevika calls it babysitting)

Sevika likes to pretend that she hates brooding around you but that would be a lie.

You’re sitting around doing your work.

glasses sliding down the bridge of your nose, making your concentrated face.

& Sev’s whole body is lit on fire.

oh don’t get me started on when she hears you in your meetings talking your smart shit

she’s practically drooling

CALLING ! YOU ! COOKIE !

this started off as her calling you a smart cookie (absolutely trying to be demeaning when she first met you)

and when you finally chip her walls the nickname spirals into something endearing

“Cookie, cmere real quick”

“Ya know i don’t understand that smart shit, cookie”

“ Maybe I need tutoring, Cooks”

She absolutely will stare down the men in your meetings who try and demean you.

“ Look, I don’t know what the fuck you guys are talking about but she does. Next time you interrupt her it’ll be my foot up your ass”

Will ALWAYS be asking you to tinker with her arm

You’ve gotten caught staring at her one too many times

not just because she’s ya know so delicious looking

But because you’re thinking about the many many different ways you can upgrade her!

This obviously did not bode well when she first met you!

Barring her teeth at you and the whole 9 yards but that didn’t stop the pull you both felt for each other!!!

She revels in making you nervous

At the start, Sevika used to use her “scary lady status” (you’ve coined this term) on you

she’d absolutely tower over you with a :| face just to push your glasses up your nose

she’d watch your breath catch in your chest as your heart pounded heavily with a smirk

now! she uses her scary lady status on you for good!

she absolutely will threaten you to take breaks

So many times has she found you sitting at your desk, mouth open, and softly snoring

Meanwhile, her heart breaks into thousands of little pieces

“Cooks, you work too hard. How many times do I gotta check you’re here before going home?”

She shakes her head as she hoisted your body over her brute shoulder.

she absolutely loves you reading to her

after a long day of work for the both of you

you can bet on it that Sev will mope around you until you’re ready to lay with her head on your lap

Sev never understood the whole point of reading growing up

Having a rocky relationship with her family (her dad) she never experienced the warmth being read to could have brought.

So when you offered to read to her after a particularly hard day she thought you were joking

Absolutely within 20 minutes of you reading and scratching her scalp did she comically fall asleep

I mean open mouth dad snoring with drool dripping onto your blanket

but it’s okay because you’d won’t have it any other way :)

[storiesoflilies]

moments in twilight

synopsis: oh, innocent child of blood and bones. you cry as if your heart bleeds fire. has nobody ever taught you to burn them all first? w.c: 13k.

pairing: heianera!ryomen sukuna x f!reader

warnings: childhood friends to lovers, major character death. mentions of cannibalism, violence, and slight gore. ANGST! sfw, but mdni!

a/n: this was requested by this enthusiastic nonie! i hope you enjoy this and that it’s everything you wanted <3 a massive shout to @spookuna for being my biggest supporter and cheerleader, because i genuinely couldn’t have done this without her!

divider / art / ao3 / @ficsforgaza

the first sight of her fate didn’t seem real, like something out of a dream.

she couldn’t understand what – or who – she was looking at.

perhaps it was a fully materialized specter born somewhere from the deepest recesses of her imagination, unknown even to herself. it certainly seemed that way to her; she was only six and knew nothing of the horrors of the world, except for those that came to life in scary stories.

her ghost was digging feverishly into the earth, its fingers curled like claws, like it was searching for something. it was a dirty, scrawny little thing, wearing no clothes except for a soiled fundoshi that looked as if it was strung together by luck and willpower. every so often, it would pull something stringy and limp into its mouth, devouring it rabidly, though she couldn’t make out what it was.

why would her imagination come up with something so… awful?

it wasn’t a pretty, or kind looking ghost to be sure, and she scratched her arms as an uncomfortable itch settled into her skin.

the specter paused, like a fawn that had been discovered.

and turned.

no… it was a wolf, but it was really just a boy.

a boy that stared at her with a basin full of blood in his eyes. a garden that should have been filled with a gorgeous array of ruby roses, was instead full of violence and malice, of death and root rot. this was not a normal, or happy, sort of boy like the boisterous ones in her village.

she still thought she was dreaming, still believed the boy was just a ghost.

because what else could he be? real boys didn’t have a second pair of small eyes beneath their normal ones. even if his were closed, his two pale lids shut tightly like an oyster.

would there be precious little red, red, red pearls underneath them?

a gentle gust of wind swept through the trees, ruffling the boys matted locks of hair, and he vanished from her sight like a puff of dust.

surely now it was a dream.

real boys couldn’t just disappear.

until she felt all the air knocked out from her lungs as she crashed backwards into the earth, sharp fingernails digging into the soft skin of her forearms, and the boy’s crimson eyes were consuming her in his fire.

she knew then it wasn’t a dream, because dreams couldn’t hurt her like this.

she kicked and struggled, her ears ringing from the force of her head knocking into the ground, screaming until one of his dirty hands covered her mouth. she stilled immediately, tears pricking the corner of her eyes, and sliding down the apples of her cheeks.

“you can’t steal,” the boy hissed, his voice sharp and pointed like nails, and he shook her roughly as he repeated like a mantra. “can’t steal, can’t steal.”

she whimpered and nodded frantically, as sharp stones from the earth pierced her skin, adding to her misery. the boy licked his lips, a snake tasting the air with its forked tongue, and bent down closer to her ear.

“i’m hungry” he whispered, a dusting of glee coating his words like powdery snow. “i want to eat you.”

the sky was haunted with the last light of the sunset, like the cries of a mourning mother, swirling with hues of orange and purple. she wondered if she was going to become a ghost that could only existed in her own mother’s dreams.

for the first time in her meager existence, she felt her childish immortality slipping between her tiny fingers.

something uncomfortably hot and wet spread out from beneath her thighs.

the boy sniffed once, twice, with his nose upturned.

then he cried out angrily, his red eyes flashing in the twilight hour, and shoved her roughly into the ground before releasing his grip on her, recoiling defensively infront of his hole of dirt. she scrambled up ungracefully to her feet, her chest heaving, wincing as she tasted bitter soil and salty tears on her tongue.

“yucky! dirty, dirty!” the boy spat indignantly, hypocritically, as if he wasn’t more soiled than she was.

he was rolling in the dirt now, rubbing his face and body with it as if it were soap, as if the coarse earth could wash her touch away from him. she took two steps backwards from him, feeling an eerie charge of energy settling into the edge of the forest.

like the spark of a flame that could ignite into a wildfire.

she took another slow step back.

and then another.

and another.

until she turned and fled, like a squawking bird escaping the grasp of a hawk, her short legs crying out as she sprinted faster than she ever had in her life. she ran all the way from the edge of the forest, up the slight incline of the main pathway through her village, and finally crashed through the doorway of her home, startling her mother who was scrubbing away at dirtied clothes in a bucketful of soapy water.

her mother gasped loudly, alarm rising like a looming mountain, always there and ever present. “whatever happened to you? you’re all scratched.”

lie.

she wailed loudly, messy snot dribbling down her nose and chin and right onto her mother’s worn, muted robes. her mother shushed her gently, bundling her child into her arms and pressing comforting kisses to her forehead.

“what happened, my dearest love?” her mother repeated, whispering softly and soothingly.

lie.

she somehow knew that if she told the truth, it would only invite chaos and misery into her home.

“i p-played in the forest a-and falled,” she finally hiccuped, her bottom lip pouting and wobbling.

her mother cooed, wiping away her tears with a warm, rough thumb. “you fell? my sweet, you’ll be alright. oh, oh. why have you wet yourself?”

more mucus ran down from her nose, and she wiped it messily with her palm as she shrugged her shoulders and said nothing. she let her mother fuss over her, completely unresponsive as she dunked her tiny body into a wooden bucket, washing away the touch of the wolfish, snake boy.

until all that remained of him were the little scratches dotting her arms – rough and ridged, lines carved into the trunks of trees.

she thought of him all through the night, even when her mother had tucked her into bed and tenderly kissed her brow. everything was unknown to her now, nothing was certain. was he actually like an animal, capable of following her scent and finding her here?

would he gorge on her until all that was left of her was red, red, red?

༺ ✤ ༻

the boy had taken over her life – he was everywhere, in everything.

haunting her.

taunting her.

filling her mind with paranoia and warped visions of his red eyes staring at her, always. she saw him in between the boards of the walls and floor, and in every bite of food she took. the wispy tendrils of his hands possessed hers, eating right alongside her. he was in the blood of her scrapes, which always seemed to reopen whenever she bathed, and in her tears as she whimpered quietly, unable to sleep as she hid beneath her blanket.

as if that could save her from him.

it was in the boy’s nature to haunt her with his hunt, to frighten and consume her every thought.

she couldn’t expect anything less than that; it was who he was.

she’d seen it in his eyes, a peephole into the true nature of his soul, and it was full of violence and cruelty and…

sadness.

… and beauty.

he was really just a sad, beautiful little boy.

a boy just as old as she was. a boy who had somehow been put on a path of loneliness, without light, kindness, or love.

it had to be some sort of twisted fascination she harbored for the boy, the same way she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the blood trickling from his scratches, or stop listening to the stories of ghosts and monsters in the night.

maybe it was his strange power that was possessing her, gripping her like quicksand and sucking her further and further down into his madness.

yes, that had to be it.

because why else would she be heading straight towards the edge of the forest, to him?

she tightly grasped a small bowl of rice and vegetables between her little hands, swiped from her own dinner right beneath her mother’s nose. it had long since cold, and she hoped the ghost wouldn’t mind. it was an offering, a desperate plea to break free from his curse that haunted her.

snap!

snap! crackle, snap!

a few twigs snapped loudly beneath her feet – a damning announcement.

she froze, nearly dropping her bowl, breathing quick and shallow puffs of air.

snap!

another one, this time from behind her.

she whirled around, and there he was.

the boy stood beside a thick tree trunk, his head cocked to the side and his eyes widened into full crimson moons. he was even more disheveled than he was a week ago, with mud caked to his skin and hair like dried, flaky clay. his ribs were more prominent too, scarily so, and his cheeks were gaunt like a skeletons.

he was weak.

far too weak, she realized.

she immediately extended her arms out, the bowl teetering on the edge of her fingertips, and breathlessly said, “yours.”

the boy grunted, “huh?”

snap! snap! crackle!

he’d taken a few steps forward, carefully, ever so fearfully.

she squeezed her eyes shut, turning her head up towards the twilight sky, her heart beating against her ribcage as if trying to escape, and tried more clearly, “food, for you.”

he was in front of her in a flash, his breath brushing over her cheeks. she cracked open an eye to peek at him, watching as he eyed the bowl with suspicion, sniffing loudly. he gagged offensively when his nose wandered too close to a vegetable, his tongue stretching far out from his mouth.

she half thought he was going to smack the bowl to the ground and lunge for her instead.

he’s going to eat me.

until he snatched it from her instead, retreating back behind the tree trunk.

she blinked, her lashes butterfly wings fluttering in a breeze.

there were the sounds of scoffing, rabid breathing and snuffling noises, and then nothing at all.

hiccup!

had he finished all of it already?

the boy’s face peeked out from behind the trunk, peering at her owlishly.

“why you back?” he asked simply, a touch of softness in his voice, the edge of a knife chipped and dulled.

she shrugged her shoulders. “you’re hungry.”

“but, what if i eat you?”

“tomorrow i’ll give you more, then you can’t eat me.”

he fully revealed himself, crouched low to the earth like a cat, staring up at her with his pupils blown. “you promise?”

she gulped. “i promise.”

“if you don’t, then i eat you!” he exclaimed, lips pulled back over his fangs in a threatening snarl, his hackles raised and shaking.

oddly, she didn’t feel afraid.

the ghost didn’t have the same malice as before; she could see his vulnerability in the way his fingers trembled. she felt it travel through the mountain air, settling onto her skin like a layer of dust. it wriggled like maggots, burrowing into her flesh and making her skin crawl.

her chest constricted painfully.

she felt so unbelievably and overwhelmingly sorry for him.

the boy scrunched his nose. “why’r you sad?”

“i’m not!” she replied quickly, a touch indignantly. she knew he would probably get angry if he knew how much she pitied him.

it was silent for quite some time as he stared at her, and she fidgeted in her spot. she knew she had to let him do this, to stay perfectly still like a rabbit in the reeds, as the wolf made its mind up whether it was hungry or not.

it seemed to work.

the boy huffed and collapsed to the ground in an ungraceful heap, his legs splayed out before him as he seemingly ignored her – a begrudging acceptance of her existing in his space.

she lowered herself to his level, the ground scraping beneath her legs, while maintaining that somewhat safe distance between them. her hands began to search for and pick up various rocks and twigs to play with, because she didn’t know what else to do to pass the time. the boy had his head held to the side, a shade of confusion painted over his cheeks as he clocked onto her every move.

she pretended he wasn’t there, ignoring the rising wave of bitter panic in her throat, and the fact that he was slowly inching closer to her, crawling to her like a prowling panther.

he sat beside her now, clearly observing how she sat with her legs crossed, then glanced towards his own legs kneeling into the dirt. she never stopped playing, pretending to be in her own world, watching from the corner of her eyes as the boy moved his body to mimic her posture and sitting position.

a giggle threatened to bubble out from between her lips.

the boy picked up a twig from her small pile, then retracted, looking at her with wonderful apprehension.

she gave him her full attention. “you can play too.”

another head tilt, and his pink lips curved downwards.

“…play?”

oh.

“have you never played before?”

“no, show me.”

and she did, without knowing how to really explain it. she told stories of how the twigs could be birds soaring between the gaps in the clouds, or the rocks could be fish darting in between the strands of a kelp forest. all the while, the boy was transfixed, and she began to really understand him for what he truly was.

scared and lonely, with an insatiable curiosity for new things – especially for her.

she only hoped she could live up to it.

༺ ✤ ༻

she discovered the boy’s name a fortnight later.

ryomen sukuna.

a strange sensation ran down her spine when she heard it for the first time, like a delicate lash from a whip made of fire.

she decided to ignore it.

they played together everyday since then, against the deep backdrop of the forest, and always during the duskiness of twilight. she would still sneak him scraps of whatever food she could spare, feeling guilty as her mother, who was none the wiser, always praised her for finishing her meals. her father would raise a questioning brow at her whenever she asked to play so late in the day, chiding her for being reckless, even if she passionately justified – albeit, borderline erraticly – that her imaginary friend would be very lonely without her.

“but why now? why can’t you play during the day with your… friend?”

“because he only comes out when the sun goes down.”

maybe sukuna really was a ghost.

she liked to hold onto that superstition. it made her lies a little less white, because he definitely wasn’t a figment of her imagination.

but it was still a lie, a pearlescent river of alabaster, and it had continued to flow strong for three years now.

she was nine years old, and during their time together, sukuna had only revealed glimpses of himself in little tidbits. it was like a sweet bite of plum on a hot summer’s day, satiating her for a time, but always leaving her hungry for more.

“where do you sleep?”

“i dig a big hole, you wanna see?”

“why do you only come after the sun?”

“i’m here all the time, you just don’t see me.”

but sometimes.

just sometimes, and only if she timed her questions right.

then sukuna would indulge her in just a little more.

“why are your eyes red?”

ryomen paused, a wickedly sharpened two-pronged stick in his hand, and shrugged nonchalantly. “i was hungry in my mother’s tummy, so i ate my brother.”

(there was a great clap of thunder somewhere far away, and the great sinful cut of the world bled just a little more.)

they were quiet for a long time after that.

he’d resumed stabbing the earth with his wooden weapon, completely unperturbed.

as if what he’d said was the most normal thing, like it was as easy as drinking the rain that fell from the pine leaves.

sukuna often said twisted things – things that reminded her of who she was really dealing with. although he had somewhat softened around her, he was still as wild and unforgiving as the mountainside he lived on.

she could never ever show him that it put her on edge.

still, much to her own shock, she was growing used to the depravity.

not that sukuna was always wicked, no. he would always ask her things, and she’d try to assume an air like her mother, knowledgeable and benevolent, as she guided him. when he wanted to know how she ate without using her hands, she took a pair of chopsticks from her kitchen and showed him how to use them. he’d sniff her hair, alarmingly too close, and asked how it was so much softer than his.

so one evening, she took him to the river where some of the villagers bathed during the day, and taught him how to wash himself.

“show me,” he’d ordered, his characteristic head tilt an open book of confusion.

he was more perplexed when she became flustered and refused to do it.

the ensuing conversation, in which she explained why she couldn’t just do that, was extremely awkward to say the least.

but she was even more surprised the next day when she came to play, and he was awkwardly standing there, his cheeks as pink as the once-hidden peaches in his hair. she’d stopped straight in her tracks, almost not recognizing her ghost without all the grime and dirt covering him.

he’s so beautiful…

ryomen blinked slowly, catlike, staring at his unusually clean feet with something akin to bashfulness. “what?”

“nothing,” she smiled, gentle like the summer rain that had just started to fall. “let’s play.”

༺ ✤ ༻

it was autumn now.

the leaves of the maple trees had turned into molten gold and burnt orange peels, and the remaining blooms had already died out petal by petal. there was a chill bite in the air, a promise of snow and piercing cold to come. she hated when the weather was like this, she worried about sukuna living in the wild in such conditions, and it only made it harder to go out and play with him in the evenings.

he, however, enjoyed it whenever the weather turned cold – it soothed the fire in his blood.

or so he said.

sukuna was lying down beside her, saccharine on the grass whilst looking up at the sky. he was wearing some washed-out linen clothes, a size too big, that she had managed to steal one day from the village boys bathing in the river. the deep plum wine in the skies mixed with the blood in his eyes – all four of them – the two colors swirling and teasingly touching each other.

two nights ago, the wind had been howling like wolves, screaming of murder and spilled blood in the darkness. there had been a strange heaviness in the air, a sort of static, like lighting biding its time to strike.

when she saw sukuna the next morning, he had a proud grin on his face, his teeth and mouth speckled with blood. all his eyes were wide open, staring at her as if to say ‘look at us, look at us!’

she knew that he had committed some sort of depravity in the night to have earned the transformation.

but he never told her.

perhaps she was never meant to know.

they were always alert, darting between everything and anything that moved even in the slightest – from the leaves rustling high up a tree, to the birds soaring high up in the sky, and to the blades of grass tickled by the wind.

and her.

one always rested on her.

“ryo,” she started, ripping fistfuls of grass. “do you like to play in the snow?”

the eye fixed on her rolled in annoyance. “no, and stop calling me that,” he huffed.

she rolled her eyes, blowing a hot-pink raspberry at him. “yes you do, liar! i know you do.”

she knew that sukuna loved to be teased, but only when he was carefree and relaxed. during moments like now, with the ghost of the permanent scowl sewn into his features unraveled into wispy threads of gold. he was seriously mulling over what she had just said, something she knew he also enjoyed – untangling mysteries and puzzles in his mind, a satisfied gleam in his eyes when he finally figured them out.

“i don’t… like anything.”

she stilled.

a blade of grass fell from her grip, and she gnawed on her bottom lip.

why did she feel so embarrassed?

he wasn’t really referring to her at all – and yet, it all felt so personal.

“okay,” was all she could muster weakly, barely a whisper, resuming her onslaught on the grass like nothing mattered at all.

maybe none of it ever did.

sukuna turned his head and stared at her strangely, but said nothing.

thwack!

he was grinning wildly now. “let me chase you.”

she wiped away the raindrops that had splattered onto her cheek, a slight sting on her thigh from his smack. “i don’t wanna play.”

“but… you like this game,” sukuna frowned, head tilted, rolling over with his elbows digging into the grass. “why not?”

“i jus-ow! stop hitting me!”

“start running then.”

so she did, quite begrudgingly.

her footsteps crackled loudly against the forest floor, as the dark grey clouds darkened even more and the rain fell faster, and the sun dipped further behind a neighboring mountain. sukuna was hot on her trail, and she knew how easily he could catch up to her in an instant, but he never did. it was as if he switched off whatever made him less human during their games. maybe it was to give her a fighting chance, or perhaps it was entertaining to him to know he could always win whenever he wanted to.

if she got to the village fast enough, she would win today.

she swung herself against a tree trunk to propel herself forward, imagining she was an agile deer leaping between the trees.

get to the village.

win.

run, you can wi-

her leg gave way beneath her, sliding up in an arc as she slipped backward. her head hit the ground, and stars and minuscule black moons danced in her eyes amidst the silver clouds.

sukuna appeared above her, his face upside down, all of his eyes on her with what looked something like panic in his irises. it made her heart skip a beat, followed by a swarming terror of bats and a throbbing swell of pain in her left ankle.

and then… sheer, crippling embarrassment.

she started to wail loudly.

big salty droplets squeezed out from her tearducts, running to her temples and mixing with the rain in the dirt. sukuna's face contorted painfully, his mouth pulled into a grimace, his eyes darting over her like a hummingbird flitting between flowers.

"s-stop doing that," he tried to order harshly, but was cruelly betrayed by the shaky wobbling his lip.

snot messily dribbled down her nose as her ankle started to throb more intensely. "it h-hurts!"

"stop crying!" sukuna exclaimed, his fists clenched and shaking. "just stop."

she made the mistake of moving her leg, and cried out as fiery pain licked a smoldering trail straight up to her head. "ryo! please. make it stop, make it stop, make it stop."

his face fell, crumbling into pieces. with a tenderness she had never known, and the sleeves of his shirt falling over his hands, sukuna gently held the sides of her face.

she stilled, a drop of crystal suspended in time.

he hushed her, soothingly. "it's okay. just... please. stop crying."

she sniffled, broken sobs stuttering out from her lips, until they fizzed out altogether. all the while, sukuna never let her go, their foreheads brushing against each other, his peach frizz blowing in the wind. oh, how she wished she could see his face. she wanted to know that he wasn't faking this level of care – of emotion – if nothing really mattered to him.

sukuna lifted his head, his blood eyes glossy and pained, and whispered, "does it still hurt?"

her bottom lip trembled dangerously and she nodded. sukuna sighed, his hands leaving her face and scrunching his hair.

"i-," he paused, nervous. "let me try something."

sukuna looked at her expectantly, eyes widened and pleading. she nodded again, not sure exactly what she was agreeing to, he moved slowly, cautiously, as if any sudden move would set off her pain again. all the while, his gaze was trained on her, settled and pooling on her already swelling ankle.

he breathed out shakily, placing a rough palm over her warm skin, and she whimpered as a piping hot sensation seeped through to her bone. it was nothing like pain, but it felt like sukuna. it was a strange feeling, like little bubbles popping on the skin he touched. she knew then what she was feeling – his power. sukuna was concentrating hard, little grunts escaping his lips every so often, his brow deeply furrowed into a valley of ridges.

the power rose, a tidal wave of fire and blood, and then collapsed into nothing.

he hissed in frustration, sharply pulling his hand back from her ankle, head bowed almost… shamefully.

it was quiet for a heartbeat longer before sukuna muttered, “i’m sorry, i can’t fix you. i’m not strong enough.”

her heart swelled, and she smiled weakly. “it’s okay, ryo.”

he looked up at the dark sky, mouth opening and closing as he chased his words and settled on, “its going to be night soon.”

she looked up too, watching the veil of the silver crescent moon lifting. “mhm.”

she sat up slowly, sukuna immediately turning to watch her. “i-i don’t think i can walk, ryo,” she mumbled. “how can i get home?”

“but… you can’t stay here.”

“i know.”

“the bears will hunt you.”

“ryo, i know!”

his head tilted and a spark lit in his eyes.

“i can carry you!” sukuna blurted out, his chest puffed out proudly. “i’ll bring you to where i sleep. it’s warm there, and then the bears can’t eat you because i’ll be there.”

“… you can fight a bear?”

“what do you think i eat now? i told you I didn’t need your stinky vegetables anymore!”

she blinked three times.

“okay, and then what?”

“and then… i can figure it out in the morning. i’ll keep trying to make you better when you sleep so you can go home.”

without hearing another word from her, sukuna swept her into his arms, eliciting a startled yelp from her. he settled into a brisk pace, taking them both much farther away from the village. the light darkened considerably this deep into the forest, the trees hugging each other so tightly that hardly any of the sun’s waning light could pierce between the leaves.

suddenly, he stopped.

sukuna hunched over, her cheek squishing against his chest, and gently placed her down into a cavernous burrow.

"you really weren't joking when you said you sleep in a hole," she half-heartedly joked, looking around.

he scoffed, crossing his legs and sitting beside her injured side, halfway turned towards the entrance to the burrow. "you don't like it?"

"i never said that! it's just... different."

"not all of us live in a nice home."

the air turned slightly sour, lemons tainting his softness, and they were completely silent. the sounds of the night became louder then; strange animal cries off in the distance, and the rain pelting down from outside, steady drip drip drip of droplets falling from the entrance. sukuna was right, his burrow was reasonably warm. almost, dare she say it, actually comfortable.

he was still beside her, a hand pressed lightly to her injury, his power ebbing and rushing forward like a wave against the shore. as the night grew longer, sukuna seemed to be getting more and more agitated, hissing lowly as he failed at every attempt to heal her. she couldn't sleep regardless of his noises; the enormity of the situation she was in was too jarring. what if a bear discovered their sanctuary? what would her parents be thinking right now? sukuna had to be hungry, as well tired from expending his power. could he really fight a bear if it came down to it?

"ryo?"

"go to sleep."

"but i-"

"shut up, or i'll let the bears eat you."

"ryo! i just wanted to ask you something."

he groaned in annoyance. "what then?"

"earlier, when you said you didn't like anything. did you mean it?"

"well... yes. i don't lie."

"oh, yeah. i know."

sukuna tilted his head, both left eyes rolling towards her. "why did you get sad when i said that?"

heat rose to her cheeks. "did not!"

"you did so! i felt you get sad! you’re getting sad again now"

she fidgeted uncomfortably. "because!"

"because?"

"because, because- ugh! because then that means you don't like me, okay? and that hurts my feelings.”

red eyes flashed in the dark. “why do you care if i like you?”

“because we’re-you… you’re my friend. of course i care if you like me.”

“but, what if i don’t care?”

her heart dropped, and a fresh tear prickled the corner of her eye. “you don’t?” she mumbled quietly, a drop in an ocean of naive, childish feelings.

sukuna’s face crumbled again, and he gripped her ankle just a fraction tighter. “no! i mean, yes! i do care.”

he bashfully looked away, mumbling under his breath before he said a bit louder, “i like you.”

she perked right up at that. “you do?”

“mhm.”

“you promise?”

a low grumble. “promise.”

༺ ✤ ༻

for five days and five nights, she was in another world.

a world where all the memories of her past were washed away by the swirling green of the deep forest. it was an almost cathartic experience, a transition from one plane of existence to the next – one drawn in dripping red ink, a solitary existence that belonged only to ryomen sukuna.

or, at least, it was easier to imagine it that way.

otherwise, the painful pangs of guilt would strike her violently whenever her thoughts strayed to her village and family. if she paused and closed her eyes, she could feel the steady thrum of her mother’s grief, like an earthquake reverberating across the distance between them. it was all too much for her young mind to bear.

and so, she willingly slipped through the doorway into a new reality, where it was just her and her crimson ghost.

during that time, she had learned how to read him.

his anger was a lashing snake hidden between the rocks – wickedly sharp and quick to strike her with venomous words. they would spread quickly though her blood, making her huddle into herself, perfectly still, like a mouse meeting its most unfortunate end.

fortunately for her, she was only bitten once, and the snake had only acted out of hunger, not genuine malice.

if sukuna’s anger had been real, she doubted she would have lived to see the next sunrise.

his apology came much later after he had returned from the hunt, a satiated tiger slow to act. the only acknowledgement of his remorse was a silent head pat with a bloody palm.

his fear was iron claws scratching against a rock, piercingly grating and scraping at the walls of her heart. if sukuna was fearful, she knew it by the way he stalked and paced outside the burrow, a whip strike away from pouncing on anything that moved even slightly out of the ordinary.

“there are more people in the forest,” sukuna would mutter darkly during those fearful fits. “they're shouting your name.”

“did they see you?”

he responded with nothing more than a pointed look.

but above all, it was his kindness that was most present.

she first noticed it in the way sukuna corrected himself around her, protecting her from certain aspects of his lifestyle. for instance, when she saw the blood on his hands after a kill, or saw how horrified she was when he offered her raw, dripping meat from a deer he had just killed. it was in the way he had immediately changed his ways – washing his hands after a hunt, and skinning and butchering his kills far from the burrow so she wouldn’t see a thing.

it was also in the way he pretended he wasn’t purposely foraging berries for her, dropping them onto her lap like he had just randomly stumbled across them. it was in his stubborn refusal to give up on healing her every night when he thought she was asleep, and in how he treated her like precious sugar glass – so very careful in how he handled her.

it shouldn’t have been so surprising to discover that ryomen sukuna was neither cruel nor mad.

he was still that lonely boy from all those years ago, still learning how to be kind while yearning and searching for love.

one day, she saw him play with fire between his fingertips as if it were nothing extraordinary.

she saw how the blood in his eyes came alive, like dancing waves of a turbulent red sea. when he looked at her, she didn't expect him to smile so gently as he started a small fire and cooked her meat for her.

after sukuna had shown her more of his power, the cracks in his soul seemed to split apart, and his fire teemed and spilled out uncontrollably. he finally began to open up to her, telling her things she had always wanted to discover, along refreshingly childish ramblings.

“you know, i actually didn’t mind eating your stinky vegetables. yeah.”

“deer aren’t actually that pretty, but watching them when they’re still is… relaxing?”

“yeah, i lied before. i do like playing in the snow, especially throwing it at you.”

but some of the worst things would also spill out – things she would have preferred to never know, because they were dark and cruel enough to change the way she viewed the world.

“i didn’t mean to eat my brother, but i was just really hungry in my mother’s tummy, and she wasn’t feeding us.”

“she called me a demon for what i did.”

“no, i don’t know know where she is now, and i don’t know about my father too.”

“i do… feel a bit bad about eating my brother, because he was hurting.”

there was a stretched, almost foreboding silence before sukuna finally asked the question that must have been on his mind since the day they met.

“are you afraid of me?”

the fire spit and fizzled, and she hissed as a spark danced dangerously close to her skin.

“no, ryo. you’re my best friend.”

“really?!”

“well, duh. you saved me.”

he shuffled ever so slightly closer, their arms just about to touch, and mumbled, “so did you.”

she really believed she could have stayed with sukuna forever.

but her new world was shattered on the morning of the sixth day, as if the cosmic rulings of the world had decreed that they'd both had enough of a good thing.

still, it was all her fault – it had to be.

she was the one who insisted that she was too cold, that the chill in the air was day beyond what she could tolerate. she felt the wet tears clinging to her lashes were about to freeze over, and sukuna could not stand to see her cry. so, despite his own warnings, he lit her a fire for her during the day and watched nervously as the smoke rose high above the trees.

it wasn't long before the hunters came.

they came silently, prowling and closing in on them both.

and sukuna knew it.

he was bristling defensively, his neck hairs rising, eyes closed, and head bowed in the direction of a bush that had rustled unnaturally. the hunters crept forward cautiously, eyeing the boy with barely concealed suspicion, while beckoning for her to come with them.

she stayed put, pretending she was a statue of ice that couldn’t understand a thing.

a hunter tightened his grip on his bow.

another nocked an arrow.

and sukuna opened his eyes.

chaos erupted, a whirlwind of metal and feathers and red, red, red.

the hunters charged forward, consumed by a fear they could not rationally explain – of demons and monsters possessing their hearts and minds. but sukuna was faster than all of them, disappearing in a flash, and reappearing to hurl a hunter against a tree.

the poor souls had no clue what they were up against.

she knew sukuna could – and would – kill them all.

"no! no! no!" she screamed, heaving and desperately clawing at her face. “please.”

somehow, he could understand her amidst the shouts and cries of anguish from the men who had come for her.

(he always did, he always would.)

the boy of blood and fire stilled, dropping his hands to his sides, and the wolves descended upon him instantly.

she screamed once more as a hunter seized her, dragging her away from the fray of madness. all the while, sukuna remained curled in a fetal position, all of his eyes locked on her retreating figure as he endured the the blows to his body with stoic silence.

only his eyes betrayed his pain.

༺ ✤ ༻

her heart was weak.

it could only beat with half its strength, as if it couldn’t be bothered to do what was expected of it.

when she was returned to the village, to the nearly suffocating embrace of her weeping mother, she was hailed as a miracle – a little girl who had somehow survived a demon. she was cherished and fussed over by the whole village, her family showered with gifts of millet and rice, plenty of dried boar to survive the winter, and stone amulets for protection against the evil that had touched them.

meanwhile, sukuna had escaped.

the hunters had said the demon vanished into the highest peaks of the mountains, where they could not follow. they bowed low and deep to her mother, their knees buckling as they vowed vengeance on the scourge of the mountain. but she knew it was all for show. they were completely terrified of him, too proud to admit it, and so the mere memory of sukuna was spat on and desecrated by the other villagers.

oh, if only they knew the truth of it all.

it took a fortnight for her heartstrings to stop aching from the pain of being ripped apart from sukuna, and even longer for her piercing wails to cease every night before she slept. her tears burned, tears of fire and salt, made from sukuna's precious blood that had dripped down his face as he was beaten.

all because of her.

her parents couldn't fathom her sheer anguish, perplexed and frightened by its intensity, and only able to explain it as the effect of a demon. all they could do was pray for her recovery, and the rest of the village did the same.

in the beginning, when she had exhausted all her energy from wailing and crying, she would peer into the darkness of the room. through the gaps in the walls of her home, she willed and prayed so fervently that she would one day see four red orbs peering back at her.

but twelve winters and summers came and went without sukuna, and she began to wonder if had all been just a dream. an elaborate tale of an imaginary friend her mind had tricked her into believing was real. a ghost that was never meant to be, one she ought to bury in the deepest recesses of her memories where he could finally rest.

but, oh, how lifeless her world was without him.

nobody could understand or see how the anguish swirled beneath her skin. she didn’t even have the words to describe it to herself anymore, other than she was not doing well at all and felt sick all the time.

how very isolating it all was.

she was fifteen now, and all her parents could talk to her about was marriage.

“you are a young lady now!” her mother would gush loudly, almost nagging. “one who survived a demon, and every man who passes through the village wants your hand.”

she tried not to think about it at all, but it loomed larger and larger over her head as the years passed, and she doubted she could remain as she was for much longer. in those moments, her thoughts would always stray to sukuna, and how if she could have married anybody, then it would have been him.

it was the only thing that felt right.

she tried not to dwell on that for too long.

but trying not thinking about ryomen sukuna was like telling the sky not to cry.

there were often tales from afar that the traveling merchants told the villagers as they stopped for respite and to sell their crafts – stories full of horrors and atrocities. entire villages, along with all their inhabitants, were found burnt to cinders or encased in a tomb of ice, with no rhyme or reason why, simply there one minute and gone the next. there were accounts of cries and calls from strange creatures in the night, born from suffering and pain. some spoke of certain people being able to wield magic, only to be found mangled and nearly destroyed by others of the same power.

she would think of sukuna after hearing those stories and wonder what kind of life he was living.

was he just as lonely as she was?

or was he happy indulging in the violence of his nature?

then, one fateful day, her father placed a hand on her head fondly and said, “tonight is your omiai, dearest. you will finally meet the man the nakodo has chosen as your husband.”

and that was that.

that night, she stared into the eyes of the man she was to marry.

they were kind, warm – so very plain. he spoke a little to her, mainly about how he could offer her a better life than what she had now. something more comfortable, with a better house, more food, and even kimonos made of silk.

it all sounded… safe.

reliable.

her family was happy she was marrying such a man, and assured her that they would come and visit her in her new home once she had settled in.

she didn’t care about that at all.

all she could think about was red, red, red, and how it felt like the ultimate betrayal.

she could do nothing but nod placidly at them all.

really, she should count her blessings that she was about the same age as her soon-to-be husband, and that he seemed likely to treat her with kindness and respect. maybe, if she tried hard enough, she could convince herself that she would find some measure of fulfillment in her marriage.

she could learn to accept it all, even force herself to be happy.

even if a part of her could never be scrubbed clean from all the red.

the day before she left for her betrothed’s village, she went to the clearing in the forest where it all began. it was midday, the sun high in the air, and the sweet bite of winter kissed her cheeks as she stood there clutching the white silks that had been gifted to her.

“things are going to change for me,” she whispered to the trees that had long watched over her and sukuna, her head bowed low. "and i do not believe i will ever return here.”

desperation gripped her in a suffocating hold, hooking its claws deep into her spine. she wondered if there was a string that connected her to sukuna. a red-stained one, dripping in their blood. would he feel it wherever he was in the world if she pulled it hard enough?

if she tried, would he come for her?

(a gust of wind, a spark of flame, and a ripple of blood.)

she had realized some time ago what she had felt as a child.

but it was still a terrifying thing to admit to herself, even now, in this quiet corner of the world, that she had once been in love with ryomen sukuna.

it was best to bury it here with the trees.

tonight was the eve of her wedding, and all she wanted was to have just stayed there.

it was supposed to have been a night of solitary peace.

the last one she would ever have, with only the sound of the herbal bathwater rippling and the scent of yuzu in the air to keep her tethered to this world.

it had all been overturned in an instant.

the monsters came swiftly down from the mountainside in the night, slaughtering and tearing their way through every home in the village. the night was full of brutal screams, blood moons and snow falling from the weeping clouds. she could see them, but others weren’t so lucky. that brief look of terrified confusion was haunting – blood bubbling from their mouths as their throats were slashed by something they couldn’t see.

she stared at her fiancé, both of them trapped beneath a wooden beam, as his eyes, wide and lifeless, had not a single trace of the kindness they had once held. death had never been so close to her before, she could almost feel the cold kiss of its blade against her throat, beckoning her closer to the other side.

their assailant was a thin creature, broken and bent, with a feminine form. it licked the dripping blood of her betrothed from its wickedly sharp claws, unperturbed to the rest of the carnage unfolding around it.

“i miss you, i miss you,” it hissed in a low, screeching voice. “i love you, i miss you.”

the demon turned to her, eyeless, with only a mouth full of teeth and a thousand tongues, as if it could smell the life and heat fading from her blood. it crawled sideways towards her, its scraggly black hair brushing the ground in front of her face.

it paused, dipping its face down towards her, its reeking, snarling breaths close to her ear.

she screamed weakly as it sank its teeth into her shoulder.

soon, all our ghosts will dance together.

pale pink rose petals fluttered from the sky, falling along with the snow.

how beautiful is death?

“hmph, idiot.”

a flash of a thousand blades, and the world turned red and then black.

༺ ✤ ༻

it was the smell of incense that coaxed her back from the dreams of death.

honeyed rays of light danced behind her closed eyelids, their warmth caressing her brow and lips in golden life. when her eyes finally opened, she was convinced that she must have already been reborn. her body was wrapped in opulent silk sheets, delicately embroidered with intricate gold and silver flowers. a byobu depicting a blooming cherry blossom tree stood a few paces in front of the bed.

this was a bedroom of royalty, dripping with extravagance.

she felt as if she didn’t belong here.

but when she pinched the skin of her forearm, felt her legs moving and toes wriggling, and heard the sheets rustling loudly, she knew that this was all very real. all the blood that had been spilled was real, the kind man who would have given her a good life was truly dead, along with his entire village.

“you're awake then are you?”

she froze.

that voice.

it can't be.

so intimately familiar, yet it belonged to the strangest of strangers – deep as the oceans she had never seen, mysterious and smoky like the swirls of incense wafting through the room.

this was the voice of death.

she felt like she had heard it before, as if she should know who it belonged to.

because it was too beautiful to forget.

“sukuna?” she called out in disbelief, her voice fragile and trembling like leaves.

a low chuckle followed. “you still know me.”

oh my.

“h-how are you here? where have you – but y-you disappeared.”

the outline of shadow loomed large behind the byobu, and she gulped.

“i’ve been everywhere in this country. there’s nowhere i haven’t seen.”

it’s him, it’s really him.

sukuna hummed again, his figure swaying. she could make out the shadow of the bridge of his nose and his lips, as well as the elaborate layers of clothing he wore.

“do you remember what happened?” he finally asked after a prolonged silence.

she clenched her fists tightly. “yes.”

“good. and before you accuse me of it, i had nothing to do with what happened to you.”

“i-i wasn't going to.”

“how quaint. it’s rare that i’m not accused of causing wanton violence.”

she watched his shadow reach over and pour a liquid into a cup, followed by soft sipping noises as he drank from it.

“those... those things,” she began tepidly. “is that what you are?”

sukuna snorted. “no. i'm nothing like those low-grade cretins.” he sipped from his cup again. “although, it’s good that you can see curses. next time, you should run instead of just stand there.”

she was starting to remember him again.

she knew that he was nervous; it was evident in his sharp jibes toward her. sukuna always acted like this in unfamiliar situations, when he was unsure of how to act around her. so he would poke and prod because, at least, he understood pain and anger.

she chose to ignore it.

“i went back to the village,” he said, clearing his throat. “it hasn't changed much.”

a flash of terror struck her like lightning.

“but imagine my surprise when i discovered that something had actually changed,” sukuna’s voice had taken on a goading tone, and she could tell he wasn't pleased in the slightest. “you had left to go and get married, of all things.”

my family.

he scoffed, as if he sensed her shift in emotions. “oh, don't worry. your parents told me quite willingly. they were smart enough to know they couldn’t keep me from you.”

a trail of ice and fire ran down her spine.

oh, how much more dangerous have you really become, ryomen sukuna?

dread settled onto her bones like melted lead, and despite her better judgement, she sputtered out, "why now, after all this time?"

silence.

maybe he didn’t even know why.

sukuna's silhouette swayed back and forth behind the byobu, like beech trees high up the mountains, struggling to stay upright during a blizzard. like them, he was battling, but always against himself. his perpetual internal war against that small part inside of him that was human; full of his pain, fear, and kindness. sukuna’s cup was overflowing, even if he didn’t realize it, spilling and pouring everywhere – but she knew it.

she’d known it for the longest time.

“ryo,” her voice cracked like splintering glass. “answer me.”

he sighed, exasperated, “its been so long” – a sharp exhale – “but i can’t stop bleeding!”

utterly perplexed, she frowned. “bleeding? wha-”

sukuna’s shadow rose like a bonfire, erratically pacing in front of the byobu, and she could have sworn she saw the dancing shadows of four swaying arms.

he snarled, the words wrenched from between his fangs, "they tore you from me, and it made my heart bleed. it hasn’t stopped bleeding, because of you."

bang!

his heavy fist struck the screen, and she flinched frightfully.

“i-i don’t k-know what you mean,” she stuttered fearfully, her breaths coming out in rapid, little puffs. “i don’t understand what’s going on.”

he groaned, collected himself, and rolled his shoulders back purposefully. when he spoke again, his tone was calm, with none of the previous fire that had been spitting out from between his teeth.

“it doesn’t matter,” sukuna said, moving away from the cover as his silhouette disappeared. “you’re here now.”

the hidden implications were not as subtle as he thought. he was just as possessive as he had ever been, and it seemed that ryomen sukuna would not be letting go of her again.

she was still his, and had been for all these long years.

“you must be hungry,” he said, swiftly changing the subject. “come here.”

her heart quickened.

slowly, she rose from the safety of the bed, each step as momentous as it was absolutely terrifying. after all this time, she would see sukuna again. the boy who had once protected her, coveted her, and shielded her from the worst parts of himself. the one who wanted to change his ways and be softer for her.

she rounded the byobu.

and there he was.

her bones shivered as her mind froze her in place, stopping her from moving a single step closer.

sukuna was sitting perfectly cross-legged in front of a low table, his eyes widened ever so slightly and his lips parted. a hand was frozen mid-air, suspending in bringing his cup closer to his mouth.

oh, how much he had changed.

sukuna had grown significantly in height, could quite easily tower over her if he stood. he was no longer a boy, but a man – big, broad, and dangerous. and she had not been mistaken before; he had four arms, adorned with strangest black markings, just like his face. if it hadn’t been obvious before, it was now. sukuna was everything taboo in this world, an embodiment of death and fury itself.

“sit,” he ordered, breaking his gaze and motioning in front of him.

his words were in a refined tongue, the kind spoken by highborn royalty and nobles spoke in – those who were educated and understood things beyond the grasp of people like her. she obeyed, feeling the urge to be as well-spoken as possible.

she had never felt so small or so common in all her life.

there was an array of different foods on the table, each more richly presented than the next. elegant bowls held freshly cut fish, arranged to look like the petals of a flower. at the centre of the table sat a lacquered bowl of sekihan at the center of the table, the red bean rice a sharp contrast to the earthy tones of the pickled vegetables around it. mochi of all colors and shapes were delicately wrapped in oak leaves, and chopsticks of pearl and gold were laid beside each of their settings.

sukuna cleared his throat. “so, marriage.” she nodded silently, picking up a piece of mochi. he continued, “i’m assuming it was arranged.”

“yes. he-uh, arrived one day in the village, he was a merchant. my father and the nakodo approved, and that was it.”

he hummed thoughtfully, a fearsome blaze in his eyes. “and did you want this?”

dangerous territory, tread carefully.

“n-not really, but he seemed… kind.”

a flash of red fury crossed his face, and sukuna pursed his lips. “i see. is that what matters most to you, then – kindness?”

careful, careful, careful.

“well… i did not want to end up with a man who would hurt me.”

a dry chuckle. “and do you believe that i will?”

a flash of a memory – of a burrow, of shared tears and painful farewells.

never.

“no,” she replied firmly, picking up another piece of mochi and chewing.

he seemed to approve of her answer, watching as she continued to eat. “good.”

they were silent again, the only sounds coming from the distant chirping of birds and the gentle trickle of a fountain outside. sukuna’s smaller eyes remained fixed on her, while the rest of his attention was on his meal and sake, his expression intensely contemplative and serious. his earlier heat had subsided into a brooding stillness, and he seemed just as amazed as she was that they were finally in each other’s presence again.

she bit her lip before tepidly trying his nickname on her tongue again, “ryo?”

he stilled for a moment, his eyes glistening with a hint of vulnerability before it vanished, and then made a questioning noise.

“what exactly do you expect from me here?”

“you will receive an education, i will not allow you to remain illiterate. you will learn to read and write, and study the arts and poetry. that is all i ask in return.”

“in return for what?”

“for residing in my residence with me. you will not return to the mountains or the village, and you will never see your parents again.”

this was it.

her childhood dream of staying with sukuna was finally here. perhaps he had really felt her pulling on their red string, felt her desperation and fear, and had come to save her. he wasn’t entirely human, after all; maybe he could have sensed her from so far away, and known about that deep hole within her. and so, he had taken her away from it all, demanding only that she say goodbye to everything she had ever known.

but things were different now.

they weren’t little children anymore. there was a taste of change in the air – something tantalizing and liberating. their dynamics had shifted, whether they wanted it or not. adulthood had brought new possibilities that couldn’t have been there before, the kind that made her heart race and chest flutter.

in the way sukuna’s eyes flashed, she felt that he knew it too.

it was her fate after all, she had just been too young to comprehend it.

so be it.

“alright.”

༺ ✤ ༻

the ink was blacker than raven feathers.

drip! drip! drip!

as beautiful as the depth of midnight, it shouldn’t be wasted.

she bowed her head, pensively holding her brush. the words were right there on her fingertips, straight from the centre of her heart, but she didn’t know how to say them.

or rather, if she could say them correctly.

biting her lip, she lightly pressed her brush to the page, the words flowing out with every stroke. when she was done, she leaned back on her heels and looked expectantly at her teacher.

“your brush technique was incorrect,” uraume chided emotionlessly, their icy aura ever present. “but you were close. try it like this instead, see?”

sukuna’s second had been tasked with educating her and showing her the finer ways of noble life. under uraume’s tutelage, she learned to draw the beautiful curves of hiragana and the straight, angular lines of katakana. she was introduced to the golden literature of her country, where she delved into classic and more modern texts, and learned to appreciate the hidden depths beneath the surface of grand tales and poetry.

once, she had been jealous of uraume. it was unnerving to see how much confidence sukuna placed in the ambiguous and frosty figure, and it hurt to know he trusted someone other than her. but she soon came to realize that uraume’s sole desire was to serve sukuna, and sukuna harbored nothing for them other than respect that surely had been well earned.

“try it again,” uraume suggested, returning to their position behind her and watching over her shoulder as she picked up the brush once more.

moreover, uraume was neither cruel nor haughty about her illiteracy and never treated her like a lowborn. they always guided her with a gentle coldness and a detached tone of instruction. she wondered what they thought about the nature of her relationship with sukuna, and if perhaps uraume had ever been jealous of her. she liked to think they hadn’t been, and if they had, they never showed it or asked any questions. for that, she was grateful.

what she had with sukuna wasn’t something she could describe easily.

he was there now, one of his eyes watching the way her hands moved with the brush. it wasn’t unusual that he was present; sukuna often observed their lessons, seating himself a distance and quietly reading a book or scroll. he never lavished her with praise, such was not his nature, but offered more subtle compliments in her progress: a tilt of his head, a single nod, and a hum of approval.

she would be lying to herself if she said it didn’t thrill her to hold his attention.

they only grew closer as time went on, building new little routines with each other. every night after they dined together, sukuna would tap his fingers rhythmically on the low table, completely silent, as she either read poetry from a book or recited it from memory. these were moments of softness, sukuna's strange way of drawing closer her, as the red thread connecting them weaved them closer to each other with every passing night. his gratitude was silent too: a heavy hand on her head, a quick press of his fingers to her cheek, and a small smile as he left.

it was easy to imagine sukuna as changed in those moments, a regal lord always composed and calm.

but that wasn't the reality of the world.

she was frequently reminded of it.

"i need to go," he would suddenly say, abruptly pulling her from her focus.

she closed her book and peered up at him through her lashes. “where?”

sukuna smirked, a wild gleam in his eyes. “to quench my thirst.”

he would then disappear, but never for more than a few days at a time. she liked to hope that his brief absences were because he disliked leaving her for too long. when sukuna returned, he was like a predator satiated from the hunt – more at ease, prone to teasing and sending her into a shy fluster. she realized quickly that he was still as he had been when he was a boy; always acting upon his desires and impulses without a shred of restraint.

although, sukuna kept her well away from any glimpse of that side of him.

she was relieved to be spared from it. even though she had accepted his nature, she was far more content to remain his tether to a calmer side, always ready to pull him back into the peaceful river of soothing milk and honey that was her company. yet, she couldn’t help but wonder if that was all she would ever be to him.

she had to wait three years for the winds of romance to finally shift.

the day after her eighteenth birthday, sukuna began leaving things for her to find.

sometimes the gifts were small, such as delicate hairpins, vibrant silks, or rare fruits from distant lands. they would enjoy the fruits together, her laughter filling the room as she watched him scowl at their unfamiliar taste. other times, the gifts were more extravagant: a retinue of handmaidens to attend to her every need, opulent jūnihitoe crafted by the best artisans, the emperor’s most exquisite jewelry, and the rarest art.

but perhaps the most precious gift of all was his poetry.

she didn’t know why she had assumed sukuna had no taste for poetry. after all, he had ensured she studied it, and seemed to enjoy listening to her recite it. she had thought it was to encourage her to uphold the traditions of noble women studying the arts, to refine herself as a proper lady. given his impulsive nature, she merely thought he lacked the time and patience to write his own poems.

but oh, how he had a way with words.

it wasn’t in the more traditional styles she was used to reading, but it was uniquely sukuna’s. he was never one to follow the rules anyways. they had started off expressing the calming joy he felt in her company, with gentle musings about her being like a light summer rain or the soft morning glow of the sun. those early verses were lighthearted, designed to make her heart flutter with silly little butterflies.

and now?

now they could make her heart melt into a puddle of its own blood, making her body run hot with feverish, burning emotions.

with every poem she read, warmth would spread through her cheeks and chest, her bones shaking from the intensity of it all. it embarrassed her how obviously and hopelessly in love she felt. sukuna, however, was completely unruffled, a knowing smile playing on his lips as he watched her stumble over her words.

“any particular reason why you have that stupid smile on your face?” he’d tease, ostentatiously chewing on a piece of fruit.

she looked away petulantly, a slight pout forming on her lips. “stop it, ryo!”

it was blatantly obvious he savored this.

how could he possibly expect her to act normally around him after reading something like that? these poems were a gateway to his soul, a window straight through his eyes and into his heart. she could hardly contain herself any longer, and it was almost cruel that sukuna was keeping her in suspense for even a moment longer.

but did sukuna even want marriage?

he never liked being bound to anything, always pursuing whatever he desired whenever he wanted to. perhaps he wanted the benefits of courting her without ever becoming tied to her. she wasn’t sure if she could ever accept the idea of being his concubine. after all they had been through, it would crush her soul.

they were taking a stroll together in the gardens after one of her lessons, but the air was tense. sukuna stood unusually close to her, completely silent as they moved together, stopping occasionally and waiting as she admired certain flowers blooming. she tried hard not to be too flustered, and attempted to diffuse the palpable tension between them by talking about all sorts of things.

“oh, ryo! don't you think this flower is gorgeous?”

“hmm, yes. quite.”

“the weather is so pleasant for this time of year, isn't it?”

“yes it is.”

“look, the koi! aren’t they pretty?”

“for fish, sure.”

she gave up after that last attempt. it was obvious she wasn't going to get much out of sukuna today in terms of conversation – he seemed completely and utterly wound up.

they stopped underneath the shade of a tree, and she gracefully tucked in the layers of her clothes beneath her before sitting down. sukuna stood pensively beside the tree, his side profile solemn as he clenched and unclenched his fists. his movements were slow, methodical, almost like it was the only thing grounding him in that moment.

and then, in a flash, he was crouched right in front of her.

“i have something to say,” he announced, his voice like stone.

she swallowed thickly. “then say it.”

sukuna exhaled, and she heard the sound of his knuckles cracking and snapping before he continued, “i recognize that we two are… different in many ways. i have been bound to you from the moment i first laid eyes on you, and i will forever be yours.” – a sharp inhale followed by a shaky exhale – “however, while i may accept this, i understand that you might not outside the ties of marriage.”

this is it.

“you are the one good thing about my soul,” he whispered, his voice trembling with a vulnerable softness that shook her to her core. “please, say you will accept me?”

she didn’t hesitate for even a moment.

“i have always been yours, ryo, and i always will be.”

༺ ✤ ༻

love was infinite.

it transcended time and space, indifferent to who it dragged into its otherworldly domain, filled to the brim with whiteness and the saccharine scent of roses.

being ryomen sukuna’s wife meant crossing that threshold into another world, one that he had forced to turn into the brightest shade of red. his love was ferocious, nearly crippling in its intensity. loving him meant baring her heart to him, exposed and vulnerable, ready for him to consume it completely. he was a deprived man who had finally been given the key to her soul, and now he was able to come through and show her how deep his love for her coursed through in his veins.

“i want to bury myself into your skin,” he murmured into her ear, his arms wrapped around her bare body. “and settle into the spaces between your ribs.”

and yet, sukuna was tender too.

he would crave the moments of quiet, when it was just the two of them, whispering in the dark about how much she meant to him. wherever they were, a part of him was always touching her – whether it was his head on her shoulder as they sat in the garden, or pulling her onto his lap during her lessons. all the while, his eyes were memorising every little thing she did; the way she laughed, how she breathed, and every different sound and expression she made.

sukuna was immensely proud to be her husband, always devoted to providing for and protecting her.

she never wanted for a single thing.

and yet, he was still larger than life, a force of strife and bloodlust.

she knew what sort of reputation he had, that he was something of a living legend. there was no doubt that history would remember his name, spitting on it and sending shivers down people's spines at the mere mention of it.

“the king of curses,” uraume revealed to her one day, a hint of pride in her voice. “that is what the sorcerers call him.”

and that title did not come without a challenge.

on an unassuming autumn morning, sukuna abruptly interrupted one of her lessons. “i must go,” he said abruptly, clutching his trident like a god of old, a hint of glee in his words. “the fushigawa clan must be brought to heel.”

and heel they must have.

for when he returned, sukuna's face had split into two, with a mouth comfortably situated at his midriff. she knew then that unspeakable atrocities must have been committed, because her husband’s body did not evolve unless he had killed and sinned in the most horrific ways possible.

sukuna averted his gaze from her, his skin drenched in blood that was not his own. `'you cannot love me like this."

“and yet,” she whispered, standing on her toes and cupping his bloodied cheekbones. “i still do.”

she had never expected his true nature to change once they were married. to deny it was to deny him – and his love for her. as long as he kept her far from the sight of it, what more could she ask for?

in those moments, it was easy to forget how quickly darkness could overwhelm a fire.

the twilight moon cast a gentle light as a pleasant breeze wafted through the air, brushing against her cheek in a tender caress. it was one of those quiet, soft evenings, where the world slowed down just enough for husband and wife to savor each other’s company. they sat by the koi pond, watching as the silk ribbons of gold and white fins traced elegant patterns in the water. sukuna’s head rested on her lap, a pair of his eyes closed, as she gently stroked his hair.

nothing was out of the ordinary.

save for the strange man with starlight hair strolling towards them.

her husband sat up, and they both turned to watch the man approach them. the stranger carried the aura of a man assured in his own destiny, radiating confidence in the self-righteousness of the path he was on. when he lifted his head and met her gaze, she couldn’t help but gasp at the sight of his eyes, which held a beauty that well surpassed even that of the heavens above.

she knew then that this was no normal man.

“you were stupid to come here,” sukuna huffed, barely sparing the man a glance as he helped her to her feet. “i prefer not to kill in front of my wife.”

“and yet, you will die all the same,” the man retorted, his hand glowing with a threatening iridescent aquamarine light.

boom!

there was a deafening thunderclap, followed by the loud creaking and crashing of tumbling wood. before she could blink again, she found herself somewhere far from their home, surrounded by trees and nature that seemed to stretch for miles. her husband’s expression was calm, a perfectly still lake amidst the tumultuous whirlwind of emotions inside her.

sukuna softly touched her cheek. “this will all be over soon, my love.”

he pressed a tender kiss to her brow.

don’t leave me, please.

and then, he was gone.

a strong fear settled in the pit of her stomach amidst the eerie silence. she flinched each time the sky lit up in hues of red and blue, once with purple, and she could have sworn that she heard the sound of her husband’s untamed glee carried on the wind. every rustle of the trees set her teeth on edge, and she wrapped her arms tightly around herself as the coldness of the night began to settle in.

snap!

she whirled around.

another stranger emerged, this time with hair as black as the night. shadows pooled beneath his feet, ominous snarling and snapping noises of hounds coming from its depths. with a sharp gesture, the man hushed and silenced the shadows, and the hounds ceased to be. he tilted his head curiously at her, as if he couldn’t fathom why she was here alone in this place.

but what struck her about him were his eyes — they were as green as the forests in the mountains.

it made her strangely homesick.

“my husband will never stop hunting you for this,” she finally said coolly, despite the terror coursing in her blood.

“you think that terrifies me?” he scoffed, instantly shattering the image of warmth she thought he had. “no matter what, history will forever remember as the sorcerers who brought the king of curses to his knees.”

a silver blade gleamed wickedly as the man grinned maliciously.

“meanwhile, you are irrelevant.”

she didn't say a word, understanding all to well what was about to happen and why.

would death be kind?

she shook her head, turning away from the man and looking up at the crimson twilight sky, unwilling to face the man or the cruel blade that was to be her end.

(a drop of blood in a firestorm, a scream of agony)

it doesn’t matter, so long as sukuna cannot feel it.

༺ ✤ ༻

death was abysmally cruel.

ryomen sukuna once believed that it would have given him the sweet relief he always craved deep down – something that would have finally extinguished the ceaseless fire blazing in his veins. it was a release he had always longed for, yearned for, and thought he had always been ready for.

especially when the curse, kenjaku, found him suffering amidst the wreckage of his vengeful rampage for the love that had been stolen from him.

“you had your chance, once,” the curse purred, his forehead stitches starkly contrasting with the pallor of the body he had taken. “but you knew that already.”

no, death had hurt him beyond measure.

it was a hailstorm of ice and sleet, beating down at him, surely dousing his fire, but so very slowly. even though his memory now was hazy at the best of times, he would always remember that pain. how he smashed and ground his teeth together, silent as stone as kenjaku worked to preserve his essence into every one of his fingers, because he refused to cry again.

all sukuna could remember was pain.

and her.

he would always remember her – the pain of loving her, and the pain of losing her.

and how he cried for the first and last time when he saw her crumpled body lying there in that forest. how he wanted nothing more than to hold her bones in his arms for the rest of time, to die right there and then with her, and let their skeletons be burned into ash together.

love had made him sick with desire, with hate, with yearning.

it terrified him.

because ryomen sukuna did not like to feel.

he then swore to himself that he would never repeat his mistakes. love was never to be touched again, and he would burn the world before it had the chance to hurt him once more.

and finally, here sukuna was, reborn and made anew, ready to enact that vow.

only, he hadn’t planned on being stuck inside this miserable, pretentious annoying brat.

no matter, this isn’t permanent.

“how you feelin there, yuji?” asked satoru gojo in an irritatingly perky voice.

sukuna’s vessel rubbed his chest tentatively. “i guess it kinda hurts a litt- ow! okay, never mind, it hurts a lot.”

satoru smiled. “well, lucky for you, i know someone who can help with that.”

sukuna rolled his eyes, grumbling under his breath. oh, how he wanted to rip the smirk right off his face.

first, i’ll tear you–

a light laugh trickled in from just outside the door.

sukuna froze.

he knew that laugh.

the brat turned around, and through him, ryomen sukuna saw what he had thought he lost a millennium ago.

for a moment, there was nothing but white noise.

sukuna was entranced, captivated by the way her lips moved, the graceful way her figure leaned against the doorframe, and how every single feature of her face had remained unchanged and untouched despite all the time that had passed.

is this some sort of joke?

“ok yuji,” she said warmly, a kind smile on her face as she placed a hand on his chest. “this won’t hurt a bit.”

sukuna felt the ghost of her hand touching his own skin, familiar and warm, and he gripped his throne of bones tightly.

yuji frowned. “will it hurt you?”

“oh no, don’t worry about me. i can absorb as much physical pain as i want without feeling any of it myself.”

“that’s so cool! but, do you really not feel anything at all?”

she bit her lip, an ancient sadness in her young eyes. “well… sometimes i go blind for a while, and all i can see is the color red.”

“what? hell no, what if you go blind because of me? no way.”

yuji shied away from her touch, and she reached out to grasp his hand.

“no, i promise i won’t!” she practically begged. “please. yuji. i–something happens when i go blind, like something is trying to show me what’s missing inside me, and i need to find out what it is.”

so, you don’t remember a thing.

sukuna leaned forward, bones crunching beneath him.

“okay…” his vessel answered, apprehension and concern woven into his tone.

she smiled gratefully.

i think i understand what you were to me after all this time, my love.

༺ ✤ ༻

©storiesoflilies 2024, all rights reserved. please do not plagiarize, translate, or repost any of my work on other sites! i only post on ao3 and tumblr.

[sturnioz]

shy!reader waking up fratboy!chris in the middle of the night because they just watched a horror movie or something and she has to pee but is too scared to go alone 😭🤭

you know you shouldn't have watched the movie. deep down, you knew that the blood, gore, and jump scares would be too much for you. but you really wanted to watch a movie with chris, to understand his interest in scary movies and why he found them so fascinating.

when the movie played, his laugh echoed in the room through a faded high; each characters gruesome death prompting fits of laughter, a sound that was pleasing to hear. it did distract you, but it did little to ease that fear that coiled tightly in your stomach and trickle down your spine — the screams of terror and the monstrous figures revealing themselves becoming each more unsettling than the last.

you couldn't sleep, even hours after the credits rolled, you couldn't rest. you lay cocooned in the blankets of chris' bed, eyes nervously darting around, staring into the dark corners of the room, and each faint creak and muffled laugh from the other frat brothers still awake and roaming in the house makes your heart race faster, all while chris slept soundly beside you.

what makes the whole situation worse? you really needed to pee. it started to hurt, a growing discomfort twisting in your abdomen that you tried to ignore, and you couldn't hold it in anymore. but the thought of making the trip to the bathroom alone sent a wave of dread through you, and you desperately nudge chris' shoulder, hoping to coax him awake.

"chris... chris!" you half-whisper, pushing him a little harder. chris grunts, squinting at you through bleary eyes as he lifts his head from the pillow.

"what, kid?" he murmurs, his voice thick with sleep.

"i... i need to pee and — i'm too scared because of the movie, and — and i keep hearing weird noises and the.. the shadows are moving, i just can't—"

"are you fuckin' serious?" he asks, his tone sluggish yet full with annoyance. "it was just a movie, kid. s'not real. just go.. go fuckin' piss, nothing's gonna happen t'you."

"i can't," you wail, pawing at his arm with anxiety and urgency. chris stares at you for a moment, his tongue prodding at his cheek in annoyance before he exhales deeply, shaking his head. finally, he pulls the covers off himself and swings his legs over the side of the bed.

adjusting his boxers around his hips, he stands up, and you immediately latch onto his arm as you follow, burying your face into his shoulder as he leads you through the shadowy expanse of his bedroom towards the bathroom, the faint light from the hallway seeping beneath the door barely illuminating your path.

"y'know this is, like, fuckin' stupid, right?" chris says, his hand now caught in your tight grip as you sit on the toilet, nervously biting your lip, the bright light of the bathroom showing your anxious expression as you finally relieve yourself. he clicks his tongue against his teeth. "why'd you watch the movie if y'knew this would happen? huh? and let go of my hand, kid. loosen up... fuckin' hurtin' me here, jesus."

[idkwhatimdoinghere1655]

Don't Bite Your Lip - Lando Norris

<word count - 2524>

Another night, and another stream. This was how you had met Lando, but he had slowed it down once F1 was back up and running. Of course, he didn't really have much time to play games with George, Charles, and Alex anymore.

Today, you had been recommended a game by a few followers as well as a few friends. 'Don't Scream'. The game premise was just the same as the title, you had to get to the end of the game without screaming. If you made any noises that the program deemed too loud, you would have to restart.

"OK chat, I haven't looked at the game, I haven't watched any clips, I didn't want to take away any of the scare factor from it," you explained, watching the rapid replies of the chat come through as they filtered into the stream.

From the other room, Lando was watching on. He always enjoyed your streams, even if he got to see the real thing practically every day. Something about seeing you play games and chat with people was oddly comforting to him.

As much as he wished he could join you and play games together, he had team emails he needed to sort through, and he wouldn't get any of that done if he was watching you. He left the stream on his phone off to the side, just so he could hear the soothing tones of your voice while he worked.

"So, here we go," you said after calibrating your mic so that you could still talk to the chat in quiet whispers, but screaming would kill your character. "I've got to last 18 minutes, without screaming," you whispered, navigating around the map for a little bit.

Lando smirked to himself as he heard, his mind instantly taking you back to the last time you had visited his parents. He just couldn't keep his hands to himself, practically pinning you down on the bed in his old room the second the door was closed.

You had told him to stop, since you didn't want anyone (especially not his family) to hear any activities of that sort. As usual, Lando made promises that he did not intend to keep. Said he'd go steady, said he'd be gentle, but he got carried away.

You spent the whole time with his hand clapped over your mouth as you used every ounce of self restraint you had not to bite into the flesh of his palm. Lando thought it was one of the best nights you had together, but he wasn't a moaning, quivering mess, so you disagreed.

Shaking his head to snap out of his far from innocent thoughts, he glanced over at your stream to see that you had gotten 2 minutes into the game, the lights still on as you explored the site of the plane crash.

You wandered into the cockpit of the plane, trying to click on the tape recorder in the center console. Lando found the slight way that your nose scrunched up and your eyebrows came together in confusion as one of the most adorable things he had ever seen.

"Well that isn't worki-" you said, being cut off as you turned around and some form of monster ran at you. You let out a small squeak of surprise, and your character fell over and died. "Right, so that's how the game works. Got it." you said, slightly annoyed.

The jumpscare was cheap, it was basic, but damn was it effective. Both you and Lando could see the chat laughing at you and making fun of you for getting scared at such a minor thing. Someone sent through a super chat, with a small message of 'Y/N, Charles in a banana costume is scarier than that'.

"Charles in the banana costume was funny, not scary. That was scary. But now I know for next time," you laughed, entering back into the game. You manoeuvred back through the map, back through the plane, holding your breath as you turned around and endured the jumpscare again.

"I did it that time, I did it. I think I just need to try and not talk, because then I'm not making any noise to start with. That would make for some very boring content though," you whispered, continuing your way through the game.

The daylight turned to night, and you took your hands off the keyboard. "This is where shit gets scary," you said, subconsciously biting your lip so that you wouldn't let out any noise. Lando spotted the action out of the corner of his eye, his attention instantly averted from his emails to the stream.

"Emails can wait," he mumbled to himself, swapping off the tab of his emails and logging into Twitch so that he could watch the stream on his laptop instead of his phone. You looked tense, ready for something to happen at the drop of a hat.

"Is something supposed to be happening? Nothings happening," you quietly ranted, still walking through the forest. "I can hear weird noises but there's nothing going on," you continued, the only sounds being some faint sirens in the background.

"Chat stop saying my game is broken? Is it actually broken?" you asked, and Lando could hear the slight tone of panic in your voice. "I'll keep going, I can see a building."

"I really don't wanna go in the scary building. But fuck it," you said with a burst of confidence, sinking your teeth back into the soft flesh of your lower lip. You pushed your way through the shop, taking in your surroundings as you waited for something to happen. 

"Hanging bodies, how cheerful," you mumbled, scared to speak in case something popped up and you were mid sentence. Some form of skeletal monster jumped up from the bottom of your screen, and you leant back and bit even harder into your bottom lip.

"That nearly got me, but we've gotta power through," you whispered, and Lando could see the reddish-purple marks that your teeth were leaving behind in your skin. A pang of concern rippled through him, not wanting you to hurt yourself too badly. 

Yes, he loved it when you bit your lip in that way, but not in the way you were currently doing so. He could see the way your jaw tensed when you bit down harder when you thought something was coming, or you heard a noise in the background. 

'Baby don't bite your lip so hard, you'll start bleeding.' Lando messaged you, and it popped up on the corner of your desktop. 

"OK, sorry," you said, and chat was confused. "Lando just texted me, don't worry about it," you explained, and they were all asking you to bring Lando in. "Guys he's busy, maybe he'll make an appearance later." you told them, and Lando giggled to himself in the other room. 

He was supposed to be busy, but he was currently occupied with making sure you didn't make yourself bleed. 

You took yourself out of the shop and back out into the forest. Every small rustle made you flinch, but you were focusing more on not chewing on your lip than the actual jumpscares in the game. "Who is she and why is she stood there?" you questioned, looking at the lady in white with black hair that was stood in the forest.

As you took a step closer, she disappeared along with a blood-curdling scream. You had to hold a hand over your mouth and push your chair back from the desk to make sure the mic didn't pick up any noises you made or the sounds of your very heavy breathing. 

Lando found it extremely amusing, though he could tell you were biting your lip to stop yourself from making any noise, even under your hand. His suspicions were confirmed when you pulled your hand away and the faint teeth marks on the skin were darker and slightly more pronounced. 

'Bite that lip one more time and I'll be right in there to make sure you don't hurt yourself, got it?' he texted, the urge to burst into your office proving to be very strong indeed. He saw as your eyes drifted to the corner of your screen, and he knew you had read his message. 

"How the fuck have I still got 7 minutes left?" you complained, chat finding your reactions funny as hell. The next few minutes were fine, and you were nearly on your way to beating the game. You had gotten through 4 minutes of some pretty bearable jumpscares, and your chat was telling you that now the game just throws them at you without many breaks. 

There was more rustling, then footsteps, then silence. You didn't even care about Lando being annoyed at you for biting your lip, you cared more about not losing the goddamn game. You carried on walking, until you heard the footsteps coming at you in quick succession, not allowing you to compose yourself before the jumpscare happened. 

You saw a woman running at you from the shadows, and everything happened way to fast. "Oh fuck!" you yelled as your character died. Lando heard your shout from his place in the other room, yet he was more bothered at the sight of you biting your lip again. 

As you released it from between your teeth, his eyes narrowed and a hint of frustration crawled through his veins as he saw the dark indents they had left behind. He knew it was scary, but he didn't like you doing that to yourself. 

"God I was so close to the end as well. Fuck, that's annoying," you bloviated, leaning back in your chair as the main menu to the game popped back up on scream. "Give me a sec, and then we can go again chat, whew," you said, taking a deep breath.

"I'm going to go and get a glass of water, don't be getting up to any shenanigans while I'm gone." you told them, staying for a few seconds with the replies of 'we'll be good'. You hopped out of your chair, making your way down to the kitchen.

Lando made sure you were gone before slipping into your office, sitting down in the space you had vacated. Chat lost their minds as he appeared, the comments playfully berating him for pretending to be busy when he really wasn't.

"I was busy, but now I am not, so I'm here," he explained to them,. "She hates horror games, so I don't know how you talked her into playing this, but well done to your guys. It has been thoroughly entertaining."

'Lando I thought you were working, but you're watching the stream?' one comment said. 

"Yes, I was working and watching, I can multitask very well, thank you." he chuckled, hearing your feet coming back upstairs. "I was never here, OK? Don't grass on me." he instructed, but he knew chat would undoubtedly grass on him for his impromptu appearance. 

Lando hurried out of the room and back into the room next door, hoping you hadn't spotted him. Sitting back down in your chair, you saw all the comments screaming about Lando. "Lando isn't here, I don't know what you're on about."

The barrage of comments telling on Lando and talking about Lando continued to flow in, and you were getting more confused by the second. "Guys I do not know what you mean, Lando wasn't here. He's still working." you told them, and Lando was trying to keep his laughter quiet in the other room as he watched on. 

"Lando?" you called out, his ears pricking up at the sound of your voice. 

"Yeah?"

"Can you come in here for a sec?" you asked, and he moved from his position and came into your office. "Right, have you been in here at all today?"

"No, I haven't. Why do you ask?" he cheekily grinned, looking over at chat and seeing the replies. 

'This man is trying to gaslight his way out of it smh' was a response that caught his eye. 

"I am not gaslighting, I wasn't here," he kept up his act of innocence. "Do I get to sit down or do I just have to hover awkwardly here?"

"Pull up a chair, my old one is in the closet," you told him, watching as he moved over to your cupboard and opened it, wheeling it out to be by your side. 

"Well shuffle up, you can't hog all the frame," he lightheartedly jibed, pushing you over. "Come on, we're playing again. No biting your lip this time, that looks like it hurts," he repeated, leaning in to look at the fading marks on your lip. 

"Yeah yeah, whatever," you rolled your eyes, starting up the game again and going through the motions. The scares got you less, but Lando was watching you like a hawk. As you returned to the shop, your lip somehow found its way between your teeth again. 

"Baby. Lip." Lando scolded in a whisper, and chat were dying at his commands. You listened and managed to not tug at your lip for the next 15 minutes, but, once you had reached the end, new scares that you hadn't seen before were popping up one after the other after the other. 

All you had was one minute left. One more minute and you could be done with the stupid game and go back to your chilled out, cozy streams of games that didn't make your heart rate spike through the roof. One more minute until-

"Don't bite your lip like that!" Lando chided a little too loudly, causing the game to react and kill you just before you had reached the end.

"Lando for fucks sake I was nearly there!" you exclaimed, looking at him with eyes of thunder. "My lip would've been fine for just 30 more seconds."

"Don't blame me, you could've just done what I asked, but no." Lando returned, crossing his arms and sitting back in his chair.

The comments were all along the lines of 'Oh shit, mum and dad are fighting again.'

Before Lando could get another word in, you told chat that you were going to call it a night, the both of you saying your goodbyes and shutting down the stream. Lando went to get ready for bed while you shut off your computer and your equipment, before turning off the LEDs in the room and leaving.

The second you walked through the bedroom door, Lando tugged on your wrist and pushed you down on the bed. You had no time to respond to his actions as he crawled over you, holding himself on top of you with a hand at either side of your head.

"You bite that goddamn lip one more time, I'm going to be pissed, got it?" he lowly said, his tone firm with a slight hint of mischief. 

"Mhm," you hummed, nodding. If you were going to listen to him at any time, now was sure as hell that time. Lando could be one ruthless bastard, but you were always one to answer to his demands. It ended better for you that way, anyway. Much, much, better.

A/N - Seriously you lot, thank you so so so much on the love you've been giving my stuff recently. I really hope that I don't get shadowbanned again, and I hope you enjoy this little ol' Lando thing I whipped up last night. Also... lmk in my comments or inbox (if the fucking thing starts working because Tumblr really needs to get on that) if y'all want me to get back into writing smut... because I've been considering it recently. I have 2 or 3 things started that I just never finished because I hate the way I write it, but it's gone down pretty well before, so I'll let you guys be the judge. Sorry for rambling, have a wonderful day/night, love y'all! 💖💖

|masterlist|

[siddyyyyyyyy]

Red Knight in Shining Armour

Red Hood x Reader

wc: 1.3 K; part two summary: You ask Red Hood for help from a creep and he does so warnings: cat calling a/n: Something possessed me and I had to write this small drabble. Might consider writing more parts to it, dunno

Finally, you‘ve finished your shift in that overly warm bakery. After taking care of mostly elderly customers, baking fresh goods, and taking care of some more rather demanding customers, you could make your way home. The fresh february air hits you as you step before closing the small bakery, making your way to the busstop. Gotham is not known for warm or sunny weather, especially during the shortest month of the year. This is why you wrap your scarf tighter around you, making sure you won‘t catch a cold with the freezing wind that flies right against you. You eventually reach your desired destination, satisfied the bus is already standing there, possibly waiting for you.

As soon as you reach it, he cheekily drives away and leaves you waiting for the next bus… in two hours.

Now, of course you wouldn‘t wait two freezing hours around eleven PM in Gotham. It‘s probably safer and way faster to just walk the half an hour to your apartment. With that logic, you start trotting home, feeling a little moody now. What kind of bus driver just drives away even when a person clearly walks towards it? Muttering incoherent insults at the bus driver, you make sure to keep yourself warm enough at the same time. Your coat is doing a mostly good job at keeping you from trembling, so does your thick scarf. But you wish you brought your warm hat with you.

You tense at hearing heavy steps behind you. Sure, Gotham is definitely not the safest city, but you never had to actively protect yourself from any dangers because you always had the bus! That goddamn bus is driving you nuts, to the point you don‘t notice the strange man approaching you closer. He‘s about a few feet away from you now, finally raising his voice.

»Hey, princess! Are you lost?«

You finally glance behind your shoulder, not having expected for him to actually be a little closer to you now. Oh, he is taller than you. And has his hands in his pockets. This doesn‘t look good at all.

You quickly turn your head forward again, quickening your steps to get home faster and escape this creepy goon. He doesn‘t relent though and follows you, his hood over his head in a really suspicious way. You turn into a dark alley, cursing yourself internally for needing to go in there in order to get home faster. The alley is dark but also pretty long, as if a neverending hallway. Finally, the alleyway has an opening, walking a little faster again to escape the creep, but you also have to be careful not to slip on some ice.

A flash of red is appearing in the cornor of your eye, instinctively looking over to your side. Without further hesitancy, you hurry to the infamous vigilante and glance behind your shoulder briefly again.

»Red Hood! Please, there‘s someone following me, please pretend to be my boyfriend! Please!«

You plead desperately and stay by his side, your heart racing more from the paranoia of being followed and also from being so close to the real Red Hood, asking for help.

The vigilante doesn‘t flinch from his spot, studying you briefly before looking to the direction you just came from. The scary creep appears now too, eyes trained on you under his hood and possibly not even scared of the Crime Lord standing right beside you.

Without thinking, Red Hood wraps his arm around your shoulder and straightens his posture. The goon finally glances at him before his eyes fall back on you.

»C‘mon, sweetie, aren‘t you gonna spend time with me?« You shake your head urgently and press yourself more into Red‘s side, the hard material of his armour flush against your own soft coat.

»Does she know you?« The man beside you almost snarls, his voice a little distorted from his red helmet. An almost mocking scoff escapes the creep in front of you, staying there with some distance.

»Does it matter?«

A shudder runs down your spine at the words, making Red Hood squeeze your shoulder lightly with his hand.

He guides you to stand more behind him, glaring at the man under his helmet, feeling the strong urge to just beat him up into pieces. Still, he acts without any physical violence, not wanting to scare you even more.

»Listen here, you son of a bitch. Either, you go back the way you came here, or you won‘t recognise your face the next morning. If you‘ll wake up.«

He threatens, which makes the other man take a small step back. He seems to consider something, glancing to you as you still stand behind the vigilante. After what seems like a few minutes of tense silence, the weirdo walks away from you both.

You exhaled relievedly, stepping closer to Red Hood again.

»Thank you so much! You just probably saved my life from him, I don‘t know how to pay you back.«

He looks to you again, his expression unreadable due to his helmet. But he does shake his head and holds one of his hands up lightly.

»No need to, lady. I‘m always here for help, don‘t worry.«

Red feels lightly weird calming down a random person, but he feels like he needs to. After all, he just pried a man – a really creepy bastard – from you. And it feels wrong to ask for something in return for it. He never does that sort of stuff.

»Well, still… You know what? You can visit my bakery, I‘ll give you a treat. On the house, of course!«

He feels surprised at your request, thinking over your suggestion for a moment.

»I‘ll see what I can do.« He pauses before saying goodbye, glancing around the area briefly.

»Do you need a ride home? It‘s not safe around midnight.«

Now it‘s your turn to be surprised, mulling over the suggestion. It‘s only twenty minutes until you‘re back home safely, but you also don‘t want to be a further bother to him. Eventually, you decide to be truthful.

»I was just planning on walking the last twenty minutes home. I don‘t want to bother you any longer...«

Another sudden wind goes past you, which makes you wrap your scarf tighter around your neck again, the action not going unnoticed by him. Finally, despite his own pride, he suggests taking you home with his bike. You feel star-struck, never having thought someone like him – no, Red Hood would give you a ride home. After saving you, too.

Not able to miss such an opportunity, you agree, and he helps you put on his extra helmet for the quick ride. Luckily, he knows this area of the city well, just needing the name of your address, and he knows which route he needs to take.

»Hold on tight, yeah?« At this point, he muted his comms, as well as the others, not wanting for them to hear you both and the other way around. He starts driving you back to your apartment complex, feeling a small thrill as you sit behind him and have your arms wrapped around his torso. Every time he makes a turn, you hold on even tighter to him, not used to riding a motorcycle at all.

Eventually, after some minutes of driving, you arrive, and he helps you get off the bike. You take off the extra helmet he gave you, ruffling your hair to let it look less messy from the helmet. He watches, taking the helmet from you, and eventually leaves on his bike, but not without memorising your street and face. Just in case.

Finally, you made it home, having a big story to tell your best friend tomorrow morning at work.

»You‘ve got a girlfriend now, Jaybird?«

Dick‘s smug voice chimes into his earpiece once he turns the comms on again.

»None of your business, Dickhead.« Jason grumbles back, earning a brief scolding from Bruce to use their callsigns again.

←MASTERLIST

[hanasnx]

rafe wld so get off on u being scared. like you’d be watching a scary movie together and he’d have his hand down ur pants to calm u down when u get scared and jumpy

-🎀

MINORS DNI 18+ NOTES: u don’t know what this did to me .. maybe it’s a lil different than your original idea but it’s where the voices took me

It’s not that you don’t like horror movies, it’s just that you have a hard time handling them. When your boyfriend expressed passing interest in a certain film, you didn’t want to tell him no, there’s hardly anything that earns his attention. But the entire time, you haven’t been able to sit still. Susceptible to every jump scare and every surge of music, you act like a child. Even his gentle chastising doesn’t get it through your head. After a sudden movement on screen and a blast of noise from the speakers, you squeak, clutching onto RAFE CAMERON’s shirt as you curl into him.

“Thought you said you could handle this.” he mutters, unresponsive to how you cling onto him. The arm draped behind you on the back of the couch remains there as you silently wish he’d wrap you in it.

“I can, I can.” you insist. “How are you not scared?” Your face buried in his chest means you can’t see how he eyes you up. Darkened pupils and rolling his tongue between his lips as he watches you peek at the screen every so often.

“C’mon. Could see the boom mic like five minutes ago.” he replies, but that’s not the real reason. It’s because he’s been too busy with his attention on you. Every time you’d jump, and scream, and claw at him… sure, it was annoying, but it was also getting him hot. It’s not something he fully understands, but his hips shift forward anyway when he adjusts in his seat. His free hand subtly rearranges himself, letting his halfie get some breathing room. Your temple lays on his upper chest, and your fingers fidget with your lower lip uneasily, finally working up the courage to peer at the television again. While you’re captivated, his arm discretely winds around you, and you’re so locked in you don’t even notice.

“C’mere, baby,” he murmurs, and you listen to him, shuffling impossibly closer into his side you’re practically on his lap. “Yeah, that’s right.” A mess of tingles travels up your spine, but you’re sure it’s the fact your hair is already standing on end when in reality it’s his low voice whispering praises in your ear. “Wanna be my brave girl?”

A hand wedges in between your bodies, in between your legs, and your temperature rises with every inch he gains. From your thigh to the inside, down and over, long fingers stroke at your sex through your pants. Your attention torn between the movie and where his hand is, you’re not sure entirely what’s occurring. At least not until his fingertips dip into your waistband and you unconsciously adjust to make room for him. To reward you, his arm curls up from your back, cradling your head as the hand pets your hair. You relax as he rubs you in two different places.

The pads of his fingers apply pressure to the skin above your clit, screwing sweet little circles. You whimper through your nose and you shift.

“Keep your eyes on the TV.” he tells you. Those fingers slide down, pinching your clit between them, collecting a little moisture from your slit to bring it up, and smear it on your bud. “Yeah, baby, doin’ good. Jus’ like that.” he breathes, commending you for sitting pretty for him and taking it. You can barely keep your eyes open, fighting them not to squeeze shut. Curiously, his middle finger traces your hole, and sinks in to the first knuckle. Sharply, you inhale through your nose, and he holds on to you a little tighter. “Not even here, princess, don’t worry about me.” he whispers against your forehead, drawing his finger out only to dip back in, introducing you to more this time.

You’ve been watching, like he told you to, and a jump-scare does its job, jolting your whole body with fear as you scream. The movement causes his whole middle finger to plunge into you, and a groan he’d been holding releases from his throat. It’s visceral, and something snaps. He gives you two whole fingers, then three. Shoving them into your cunt over and over again with vehement as you writhe. His hold on you keeps you where he wants you while he relentlessly finger-fucks you. Out of instinct, you try to hide your face, but that hand that had pet your hair grabs onto your scalp, fixing you to face the television again. He grips onto your head, raising your brows as if to force your eyes open himself, “Keep your fucking eyes on the movie.”