#to all of you on here!! i would be nothing without you
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miihho · 2 days ago
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Can you write type of guy headcanons for thanos (230) please? thx <33
THE KIND OF GUY
(squid game edition) nsfw
English
Korean
Thanos / Player 230
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—THANOS IS THE KIND OF GUY who’d shamelessly flirt with you, his words dripping with confidence and charm. He’d slip in Spanish pet names like "señorita" so naturally, it was as if he were born to sweep you off your feet.
There was one day when he suddenly dropped to his knees, a smirk dancing on his lips as he grabbed your hand gently. "I might just start my own religion, because of how often I find myself on my knees for you." He said as he brought your hand to his lips and kissed it, his gaze never leaving yours. You felt your face heat up, a soft blush spreading across your cheeks at the boldness of his actions.
He’d also call you every sweet name in the book—"baby," "angel," "princess," "beautiful"—each one rolling off his tongue with effortless confidence. And if that weren’t enough, he’d take it a step further, rapping his feelings for you in a way that was both cheesy and undeniably endearing.
—He’s the kind of guy who’d have a slow-burn romance without even realizing it. At first, it’s nothing more than casual interactions, small moments here and there. He doesn’t notice the shift—how his thoughts linger on you longer than they should, how he starts to care just a little bit more. It’s gradual, almost imperceptible, until one random moment hits him. Like it would suddenly click that he likes you. And now, he can’t stop thinking about it.
—He’s the kind of guy who wouldn’t give up on you, no matter how many times you ignored him. Your cold shoulder, your silence—it didn’t faze him. If anything, it only fueled his determination. He’d chase after you relentlessly, his confidence unwavering, his charm impossible to ignore, until you had no choice but to face him.
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He spotted you weaving through the crowd, your determined strides screaming leave me alone. Naturally, that only made his grin wider. He adjusted his jacket, his confidence as unshakable as ever, and started after you.
"Señorita!" he called out, you didn’t even glance back at him, but when he saw your pace quicken, it only fueled his determination. He caught up easily, walking alongside you like he belonged there.
"Ah, playing hard to get? I like that," he teased, tilting his head to glance at you with that infuriatingly smug smile. "But you know, you make it way too easy for me to chase you baby. You’re irresistible."
You rolled your eyes and turned sharply, hoping to lose him in the crowd. But the next corner you turned, there he was—leaning casually against a wall, arms crossed, like he’d been waiting there all along.
"Miss me already?" he teased with a smirk, his body blocking your path. "You can run, but you can't hide princess. Not from me."
You tried to sidestep him, but before you could get far, he placed a hand dramatically over his heart, feigning hurt. "Ouch, breaking my heart like that? Really?"
You scoffed, rolling your eyes in disbelief. "Just stop, I can’t stand you."
With a smirk that practically oozed confidence, he leaned in slightly, his voice teasing yet bold. "Then just sit on my face."
"W-what!?" You froze, eyes wide with shock, your heart pounding. "Just fuck off!" you snapped, brushing past him quickly, your face flushed in a mix of embarrassment and irritation.
He chuckled, watching you retreat with that same infuriating smirk. But you knew, as much as you tried to get away, he wouldn’t stop. He was persistent, and no matter how many times you brushed him off, he’d keep following, keep bothering you.
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—He’s the kind of guy who wouldn’t tolerate some random guy flirting with you. If he saw it happening, he wouldn’t hesitate to step in. He’d interrupt the conversation, push the guy back with a forceful shove, and growl, "Back off man! Who the fuck do you think you are hitting on my girl!?" (Yeah even tho you're not his yet)
If the guy was making you laugh or smile, he’d simmer in silence, his jealousy simmering beneath the surface. Once the guy was alone, he’d track him down, corner him, and with a dangerous edge to his voice, he’d lean in, his eyes burning with fury.
"Stay the fuck away from Y/n. Got it?" He said, his fist landing a brutal punch to the guy’s stomach, leaving him crumpled on the floor. "She’s my girl," he’d add, his tone low and possessive. "My woman."
—He’s the kind of guy who can’t help but yell, "Ah, there’s my girl!" with a huge grin spreading across his face when you made it out alive. Without a second thought, he’d rush to you, scoop you up in a tight embrace, and hold you like he’d never let go. "I’m so happy you're alive, baby. God, you don’t know how much I missed you." His grip would tighten as if to never let you slip away again.
—He’s the kind of guy who isn’t intimidated by you. He’ll rush toward you, full of energy, relieved that you made it through when the lights went out. While everyone else stood frozen in fear, staring in shock, you were casually wiping blood off your hands, having taken down a whole group without breaking a sweat.
—He’s the kind of guy who can’t believe he’s dating you after you finally accepted him. Like, a guy like him? Sure, he’s Thanos and pretty damn cool, but damn, you’re way cooler than him. So, every now and then, he’ll just blurt out, “Damn, I’m dating her?” when he thinks about you, or “I can’t believe she’s mine.” and his friend will just stare at him, completely weirded out.
—He's the kind of guy who's wildly in love with you, the type to fight a wild animal just to impress you. He lives to make you laugh, even if it means pulling off the dumbest, most ridiculous stunts. His love is chaotic, loud, and endlessly entertaining, but that's what makes it so unforgettable.
One day he tried to bake you a cake from scratch, only to set off the smoke alarm—but he still proudly presented you with the lopsided, half-burnt result, claiming it was "made with love." Or he'd show up at your door with a bouquet made of random wildflowers (and weeds), proudly declaring it’s “nature’s finest” while grinning like a fool.
—He’s the kind of guy who would let you paint his nails in any color you choose or decorate them however you like, all because he loves you and wants you to have that little piece of him.
—Thanos is the kind of guy who always needs to be in physical contact with you when you're together���his hand on your thigh, his arm around your shoulders. He craves that connection, that constant reassurance of your presence. Public displays of affection? He couldn’t care less. If you want him to kiss you in front of everyone, consider it done. If you mention he can kiss you after a game, why would he wait for privacy when he can claim you right in front of his friends? For him, it’s not just about the kiss—it’s about showing the world that you’re his and making sure you feel adored, no matter where you are.
—He’s the kind of guy who’s utterly captivated by your thighs, completely addicted to the way they feel wrapped around him. There’s nowhere else he’d rather be, no place more intoxicating than being suffocated by your softness.
He doesn’t just admire them—he worships them. His lips leave a trail of love marks along your skin, his way of claiming every inch as his own. Between kisses, his voice comes out low and teasing, filled with desire. (He also loves eating you out while you're wrapping your thighs around his head and getting suffocated by it. )
—He’s the kind of guy who would cover you in hickeys, leaving them all over your neck and thighs, a clear sign that you’ve been claimed and are already his. With a smirk, he’d tell you he’s just marking his priority, as if every mark is a reminder of who you belong to.
—He’s the kind of guy who’d proudly show you off to his friends with a grin and say, “Yeah, this my girl right here.” And damn, he wouldn’t just say it—he’d feel like the luckiest guy alive to have you by his side.
—He’s the kind of guy who doesn’t just take you—he claims you. If he ever finds out you're with someone else, he'll make sure you remember exactly who you belong to.
Thanos' rough words dripped with condescension as he gripped your hips, pulling you onto his thick shaft in one brutal thrust. You cried out, your nails digging into his shoulders as he began to pound into your mercilessly. "You're fucking mine, this fucking tight pussy is mine," he snarled, his balls slapping against your ass with each savage stroke. "This fat cock is the only thing you need. That pathetic loser can't touch this, can he?" He reached down to rub you clit, his fingers pinching the sensitive bud as he continued to ravage you. "Hngg!...—pls s'too much! too much! Thanos m'sorry p-please I w-won't do it again."
"Stop?" He chuckled, "We both know you love this. Being used like a cheap whore, stuffed full of dick. Admit it, you'd rather choke on my cum than go back to that limp-dicked loser."
—Hes the kind of guy who loves messy blow jobs. The sight of your lips stretched obscenely around his throbbing cock, your eyes glazed over in blissful submission, he fucking loves it. Loves how you surrendered completely, letting him control every movement as he fucks your mouth.
"Fuck... Your throat was made for my dick, wasn't it? Such a perfect fit, like you were born to worship my cock." he moaned, tangling his fingers in your hair and using your mouth like a cheap fleshlight as he chased his pleasure. The wet sounds of sloppy oral sex filled the air, punctuated by your muffled whimpers and gurgles. (Gosh he fucking loves that) "Fuck yes... hngg—take it baby, take it all, you filthy little cumdump!" His hips snapped forward, burying his cock to the hilt in your gullet while thick ropes of cum spilled in your mouth, forcing you to gag and sputter around his girth. "Look at you, such a good girl, gagging on my dick like it's your purpose in life. You were meant to be a cumdump, weren't you? Fucking slut."
—He's the kind of guy who loses his shit when you squirt into his mouth, he just fucking loves it when you're flooding his mouth with your ambrosial release. Saying "Holy shit," "I love you so fucking much baby," "Mmmm, you're fucking addictive as hell, baby. Can't get enough of this sweet juices." as he greedily laps up every drop. Just the taste of your squirting orgasm would send him into a fucking frenzy.
—He's the kind of guy who takes you apart piece by piece every time he gets you alone, his usual cruel exterior dissolving into raw, unbridled need. He doesn't just touch you—he worships you, his mouth and hands working in perfect harmony to draw out every moan, every shiver, every scream he can pull from you.
"You’re so fucking beautiful when you cum for me," he'd say, his voice dripping with hunger as his fingers curl inside you, hitting that perfect spot over and over again. His lips never leave your skin, trailing kisses and bites down your thighs, across your stomach, up to your neck.
"Look at you, spread open and dripping for me like the filthy little slut you are," he taunted, dragging a finger through your slick folds. "I bet all those prissy boys never made you feel this good, did they? They probably couldn't handle a real woman like you." he whispers, his breath hot against your ear as your body writhes beneath him. Even when your legs shake and your cries turn into breathless pleas, he doesn’t stop. He keeps you teetering on the edge, drawing out orgasm after orgasm until you’re left trembling, completely undone, and utterly his.
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orangeblossomsintheair · 1 day ago
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ILLICIT AFFAIRS (1/2) | CS55
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summary : “Bossy, isn’t he?” The voice is smooth, warm, and laced with amusement. You glance to your left and—of course—it’s Carlos Sainz. You freeze, your brother’s voice echoing in your head like a siren: Run. RUN.
wc : 9k
an : sorry for the lack of updates recently.. ehem.. anyway. rally driver carlos sainz. im making this a thing now.
“You’re staring,” Carlos says, voice low and gravelly. His smile is wolfish, sharp enough to cut through your resolve.
You blink, forcing yourself to focus on something other than the way his fireproofs cling to his frame or how the red of his suit gleams in the harsh light. “You’re filthy.”
“Occupational hazard,” he replies, shrugging. There’s a flicker of something in his eyes. Amusement? Challenge? It doesn’t matter. It shouldn’t matter.
Because you’re Charles Leclerc’s little sister, and that means Carlos Sainz Jr. is completely, irrevocably off-limits.
Charles would kill you both if he knew. He’s warned you before, in that brotherly-but-deadly-serious tone only he can manage.
Carlos is reckless, he said.
Carlos is trouble.
Carlos is not for you.
But damned it all, he looks good.
The kind of good that sinks its teeth into your chest and doesn’t let go. Mud-drowned, sweat-stained, grime-smeared.
Carlos Sainz Jr. wears chaos like it’s tailored for him.
By all accounts, you have no business so much as glancing twice at him.
Preciously guarded, perfectly poised, the crown jewel of your family’s otherwise tumultuous legacy.
Carlos doesn’t belong in the world that your family envisions for you. He’s nothing like the men you’ve been told to admire. His name carries weight, but for all the wrong reasons.
His reputation is as red as the suit he wears, all sharp edges and unapologetic flame. A bold, glaring warning sign.
The first time you meet Carlos Sainz is at the FIA WRC Prize-Giving Ceremony, a glittering vortex of champagne, sequins, and self-importance. The kind of place where you’d half expect someone to announce their yacht has feelings and everyone to applaud.
You’re standing near the bar, clutching a cocktail that tastes like fruit and regret, watching as yet another impeccably dressed couple glides by, all pearly smiles and whispered deals.
You’ve perfected the art of looking like you belong here. Chin up, shoulders back, face set in that careful neutral expression that says, Yes, I am both fascinated and entirely above this conversation.
Your dress, while beautiful, feels like it’s plotting against you.
It’s a designer masterpiece, sure, but also a silken cage, clinging to you with a vengeance. Moving feels like negotiating with an overly aggressive boa constrictor.
You’re mid-sip when a familiar warmth presses against your side, accompanied by the unmistakable scent of Dior cologne and something ineffably Charles.
He slides into your personal space with the precision of a Ferrari in a hairpin turn, arm looping over your shoulders in a practiced, casual gesture
“Hey,” you murmur, tilting your head just enough to catch a glimpse of him. He’s all sharp lines and understated ease, looking like he belongs here more than you feel like you ever will.
“Hey,” he replies, voice low, steady. You know what that particular combination usually entails.
“Charles,” you start, “why do I feel like you’re about to ruin my evening?”
“Because I probably am,” he says, his tone far too smug. “What’s with the silent brooding act? You’re usually better at pretending to have fun at these things.”
You shoot him a sidelong glance. “It’s not brooding. It’s observational detachment. Very sophisticated.”
“Uh-huh,” he says, clearly unimpressed. “Observational detachment looks a lot like you wishing the floor would swallow you whole.”
You huff. “Look, not everyone thrives in a room full of egos and overpriced cologne. Some of us are just trying to survive without tripping over a waiter or accidentally insulting someone’s investment portfolio.”
Charles chuckles, a low, warm sound that makes you feel both comforted and mildly insulted. “Relax. Nobody’s looking at you.”
“Wow, thanks for that, Charles. Truly, your support is overwhelming.”
“Anytime,” he says, patting your shoulder like you’re a child who just learned how to tie their shoes.
Before you can deliver a properly scathing retort, a ripple of energy rolls through the crowd.
It’s subtle at first, a shift in the air, but then the room practically pivots in unison. You wonder for a second if someone's giving out free caviar.
Instead, you follow their collective gaze to a man.
He strides into the room with the kind of confidence that should be illegal. The tailored suit, the tousled hair, the jawline that could cut glass. It's like someone combined a Greek statue and a high-stakes poker player and gave it legs.
“Man of the hour,” Charles mutters, his voice tinged with something you can’t quite place. Disdain? Wariness? A general sense of foreboding?
You raise an eyebrow, tilting your head toward him. “Friend of yours?”
Charles snorts. “Hardly. That’s Carlos Sainz Jr. Rally royalty. He's won the last 3 seasons. Toyota’s golden boy. Ferrari’s got some partnership thing with them next season, which is the only reason why we’re even here.”
You glance back at Carlos, who’s working the room with maddening confidence. “So, he’s basically Rally’s Verstappen?” you ask, your curiosity slipping out before you can stop it.
Charles gives you a look. “Don’t.”
“What?” you say, feigning innocence. “I’m just asking.”
“You’re not just asking,” he counters, his eyes narrowing. “I know that look. That’s the ‘who’s that guy, and how do I make him notice me’ look.”
“Excuse me,” you scoff, turning to face him fully. “I do not have a-”
“Don’t even try to deny it,” he interrupts, holding up a hand. “I’ve seen you use it. Monaco. Italy. That time in Barcelona with-”
“Alright!” you hiss, your face heating. “Fine. Maybe I’m curious. He’s… magnetic.”
Charles rolls his eyes. “Yeah, well, magnets also attract negative things. Stay away from him.”
You smirk, leaning a little closer. “What’s the matter, Charles? Afraid I’ll charm him?”
“No,” he says flatly. “I’m afraid he’ll charm you. And then I’ll have to deal with whatever disaster follows.”
“Relax,” you drawl, giving him a playful nudge. “I’m not that easy to charm.”
“Yeah, sure,” Charles mutters, clearly unconvinced. “Just don’t do that thing where you get all… wide-eyed and clever. Guys like him eat that up.”
You’re about to respond when you feel it— a gaze.
You glance up, and there it is.
Carlos’s eyes are on you. It’s brief, almost imperceptible, but it sends a spark down your spine.
Charles notices instantly. His grip on your shoulder tightens. “Don’t,” he warns again, his voice low and dangerous.
“I didn’t do anything!” you protest, trying to suppress a smile.
“Exactly. And you’re not going to,” he says, steering you toward the opposite end of the room like a bouncer removing an unruly guest. “We’re going to stand over here, away from trouble.”
You laugh, unable to help yourself. “You’re being ridiculous.”
“And you’re being predictable,” he shoots back, his jaw tight. “Trust me, mon cher, you don’t want to play with fire.”
You glance over your shoulder, catching one last glimpse of Carlos as Charles practically barricades you with his presence. “You know,” you murmur, smirking, “sometimes you’re more fun when you’re not acting like dad.”
Charles glares at you. “And sometimes, you’re less annoying when you don’t flirt with people I don't even want to see once in my lifetime.”
“The fact that they annoy you is half the fun,” you say sweetly, earning a groan from him.
“God help me,” he mutters, dragging a hand through his hair. “You’re going to kill me one day, I swear.”
“Alright, sœur,” Charles says as he adjusts the cuffs of his tuxedo. “I need to head out for some Ferrari business. Do not make me regret leaving you alone.”
You raise an eyebrow, sipping your cocktail with mock innocence. “Charles, please. What trouble could I possibly get into in a room full of racing legends and corporate sponsors?”
He levels you with a look so sharp it could shave ice. “I have seen you talk your way out of detention, past bouncers, and into a free round of drinks on three separate continents. You are a wildcard, sœur.”
“Flattering,” you reply, setting your glass down. “But seriously, I’ll be fine. I’ll stay right here by the bar, sipping my little fruity drink, not bothering anyone.”
“Promise me,” Charles says, and his tone is so dead serious you have to bite back a laugh.
“Promise,” you reply solemnly, holding up three fingers. “Scout’s honor.”
Charles doesn’t look convinced. “No cocktails that magically refill themselves.”
“Understood.”
“No sneaking out the back to avoid small talk.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
“And absolutely, under no circumstances, are you to talk to Carlos Sainz.”
At this, you can’t help but grin. “Ah, so we’re naming names now.”
“I mean it,” Charles says, leaning in closer, his voice dropping. “He’s not for you. He's the kind of guy that makes people do stupid things.”
You tilt your head, amused. “Are you warning me or complimenting him?”
Charles groans as he steps back, hands on his hips, his expression a mix of concern and mild irritation. If he had a clipboard, you’re pretty sure he’d be writing up a contract for you to sign in blood just so he can rest easier.
“Alright,” he says. “Repeat it back to me. What are the rules?”
You sigh, adjusting the strap of your too-tight dress. “Charles, I’m not five-”
“Rules.” His tone is firm, his eyes narrowing like he’s daring you to argue.
You roll your eyes but indulge him anyway. “I will stay here, I won’t get drunk, and I will absolutely not talk to Carlos Sainz.”
“And?”
You blink. “And… I won’t commit arson?”
He glares at you, unimpressed. “You won’t look at Carlos Sainz.”
“Charles-”
“Not even a glance. Not even one of those polite ‘oh, I accidentally made eye contact across the room’ things. Nothing. He doesn’t exist to you. Got it?”
You try to keep a straight face but fail miserably. “What happens if he sneezes near me? Do I ignore that too? Should I call security?”
“Sœur, this is not a joke,” he huffs, his hands moving to your shoulders like he can physically shake the mischief out of you. “Carlos is… he’s trouble.”
You raise an eyebrow. “Trouble? Or, like, annoyingly charming?”
“Both!” Charles exclaims, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “And don’t give me that look. I’ve seen what happens when you’re around guys like him. You think they’re all charming smiles and nice suits, and then next thing I know, you’re calling me to help you get out of some ridiculous situation-”
“I called you one time,” you interrupt. “And that was because the guy had a pet snake, and I panicked!”
“And who ended up having to rescue you from the snake guy?”
“Okay, fine, you made your point,” you mutter, crossing your arms. “I won’t talk to Carlos. Happy?”
“No,” Charles says flatly. “But I have to leave anyway. Ferrari’s calling.”
“Wow,” you deadpan. “Abandoning your defenseless sister in the lion’s den. What a hero.”
He leans in close, his eyes locked on yours. “I’m serious. Stay here, don’t drink too much, and if you see Carlos coming, you run.”
“Run? In this dress? Are you kidding me?”
“Figure it out,” he snaps, pressing a quick kiss to your temple before walking off. He glances over his shoulder twice—twice—as if expecting to catch you breaking a rule the moment he’s out of earshot, before narrowing his eyes at a man who isn’t even Carlos but looked at you for half a second too long.
You wait until he’s fully gone before exhaling in relief.
“Bossy, isn’t he?”
The voice is smooth, warm, and laced with amusement. You glance to your left and—of course— it’s Carlos Sainz.
You freeze, your brother’s voice echoing in your head like a siren: Run.
RUN.
“I was beginning to think he’d never leave,” Carlos adds, a mischievous grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.
You blink at him, momentarily caught off guard. “You were… waiting for him to leave?”
“Only because he kept looking at me like I’d stolen his wallet,” Carlos replies, leaning casually against the bar. “Or his car. Or his sister.”
You open your mouth to respond but close it again, realizing there’s no good way to play this off. “He’s just… protective.”
Carlos chuckles, his eyes scanning your face with a kind of slow, deliberate curiosity. “I noticed. So, did you make him that promise? No drinks, no sneaking out, no talking to me?”
“Absolutely not,” you say, deadpan. “I told him I’d only talk to the nice drivers.”
Carlos clutches his chest like you’ve just shot him. “Ouch. Harsh.”
“I’m just being polite,” you say, your lips twitching into a smile.
“Well,” he replies, leaning closer, his voice dropping slightly, “if this is you being polite, I think I would very much like to see what happens when you are not.”
You laugh despite yourself, shaking your head. “You’re trouble.”
He grins wider. “So I have heard.”
You glance around, half-expecting Charles to materialize out of thin air and haul you away, but thankfully, the coast is clear. “If Charles sees us talking…”
“I will tell him I was complimenting his suit,” Carlos says, completely unbothered.
“Complimenting his suit?”
“It is the diplomatic approach,” he says with a shrug. “Besides, I am not here to talk about your brother.”
You feel your cheeks heat slightly but manage to keep your tone light. “Oh? And what are you here to talk about?”
Carlos tilts his head, considering. “I was going to ask what you are drinking. But now I am more curious about what it takes to make you smile like that.”
You blink at him, caught completely off guard. “Like what?”
“Like you have just outsmarted someone,” he says, his grin softening.
You narrow your eyes playfully. “Flattery won’t get you anywhere.”
“Likely not,” he admits. Carlos leans against the bar, his grin firmly in place, the picture of someone who knows they’re being just a bit too charming for their own good. “Alright then,” he says, folding his arms casually, “if flattery is off the table, will you take honesty?”
You arch a brow, intrigued despite yourself. “Honesty? Bold move. Let’s hear it.”
He tilts his head, pretending to think. “Honestly… I do not think I have ever seen someone look so uncomfortable in such an expensive dress.”
Your mouth falls open in mock offense. “Excuse me?”
“You look stunning,” he says quickly, his voice dropping just enough to make your stomach flip, “but also like you are plotting the designer’s bankruptcy for making it impossible to sit down without no strategy.”
You try to fight the grin tugging at your lips, but it’s hopeless. “That obvious?”
“Painfully.” He gestures toward your drink. “That is why you are sticking to cocktails, am I wrong? Easier to hold when you cannot sit.”
“First of all,” you say, narrowing your eyes, “I’ll have you know this dress is art. Secondly, yes, it’s also a medieval torture device.”
Carlos laughs, the sound warm and rich. “I knew it. You should have gone for something more comfortable. Like a race suit.”
“Oh, sure,” you say dryly. “Nothing screams elegance like fireproof overalls.”
He raises a brow, amused. “I pull it off, no?”
“Debatable.”
Carlos gasps, hand to his chest. “You wound me.”
“Maybe you deserve it,” you tease, swirling your drink. “Coming over here and making fun of my dress. Bold move for a guy who was scared of my brother five minutes ago.”
“I was not scared,” Carlos protests, though his grin gives him away. “I was being… strategic. Big difference.”
“Strategic?”
“Of course. If I had approached with him still here, I would not have had a chance to make you laugh like this.”
You blink, caught off guard by the way his words land. Playful, sure, but with just enough sincerity to make your heart skip a beat. You glance down at your drink to recover. “You really don’t give up, do you?”
“Not when it is worth it,” he replies smoothly.
You roll your eyes, though you’re still smiling. “You know, Charles warned me about you.”
Carlos leans in slightly, his voice lowering conspiratorially. “Did he, now? What did he say?”
“That you’re trouble.”
He grins, clearly delighted. “Smart man, your brother.”
You laugh softly, shaking your head. “I’m starting to think he undersold it.”
Carlos’s gaze lingers on you for a moment, his smile softening. “And yet, here you are. Still talking to me.”
“Out of politeness,” you counter, though your tone is anything but serious.
“Ah, of course,” he says, nodding solemnly. “Politeness. Nothing else.”
Before you can respond, a familiar figure catches your eye— Charles, weaving his way back through the crowd, his sharp gaze already scanning the room.
Carlos notices too.
He straightens slightly, his grin turning almost boyish. “Looks like the bodyguard is back.”
You feel a pang of panic and glance at Carlos. “You should probably go before he-”
He holds up a hand, cutting you off with a wink. “Relax.”
Before you can protest, he pulls a small card from his pocket and slides it across the bar toward you. “Call me sometime. You know, if you ever need a break from all the rules.”
Your eyes widen, and you stare at the card like it’s going to combust. “Are you serious right now?”
“Deadly,” he says, stepping back with an easy confidence that somehow makes the gesture feel entirely natural.
You glance back toward Charles, who’s getting closer. “You’re insane.”
“Very likely,” Carlos agrees, his grin never wavering. “But you are smiling again, so I will take my chances.”
With that, he turns and disappears into the crowd just as Charles arrives, his expression immediately suspicious.
“You’re… red,” Charles says, narrowing his eyes at you. “Why are you red?”
“I’m not red,” you reply quickly, tucking the card into your clutch before he can notice.
“You are definitely red.” His eyes scan the room like he’s searching for a culprit. “Did someone talk to you? Was it-” He cuts himself off, his jaw tightening. “It was him, wasn’t it?”
“Who?” you ask, feigning innocence.
Charles groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I leave you alone for ten minutes-”
“Nothing happened!” you say, cutting him off before he can spiral. “I stayed in place, I didn’t get drunk, and I absolutely did not talk with Carlos Sainz.”
Charles glares at you for a long moment, clearly unconvinced. “If I find out you’re lying…”
“You won’t,” you assure him, fighting to keep your expression neutral.
Charles mutters something in French under his breath, his protective instincts still on high alert. But for now, he seems to let it go.
You take a deep breath, trying not to think about the card burning a metaphorical hole in your clutch.
Trouble, indeed.
The next evening, you’re sitting on the edge of the couch in the hotel you're staying in for the week, the card in your hand like a magnet pulling your thoughts.
Carlos Sainz Jr.
His name, elegant and bold, hovers just above a phone number.
You’ve been staring at it for an hour, maybe two.
It’s reckless. You know exactly where this could lead. But after weeks of licking your wounds post-breakup, maybe reckless is what you need.
You grab your phone, dial the number, and press call before you can second-guess yourself.
The line rings twice before you hear his smooth, amused voice. “Did not expect you to actually call. Could you not resist me after all?”
You snort, leaning back in your chair. “You’re lucky I was bored.”
“Boredom. My favorite reason to hear from someone,” he says, the grin practically audible. “Let me guess, you are curious too?”
“A little bit.”
“Well, what are you curious about then? My irresistible charm? Perhaps my car collection?”
“How you manage to stay humble, obviously,” you deadpan, sinking back into the cushions.
Carlos laughs, warm and easy. “Touché. So, to what do I owe the honor of your time?”
“Honor?” you repeat, grinning despite yourself. “You’re laying it on thick, Sainz.”
“Is it working?” he teases.
“Not even a little.”
“Well that just breaks my heart,” he says, the amusement still lacing his voice. “So, what’s the plan? Coffee? A five-course dinner? A museum? A chess tournament, maybe?”
“Very funny.” You can’t help but roll your eyes.
He chuckles. “Not doing it for you? Then.. how about something a little more… fun?”
You pause, caught off guard by the openness of the invitation. He clearly doesn't shy away from what he wants. “Define ‘fun.’”
“Well, that depends,” he replies. “Do you like questionable choices?”
You laugh lightly, your shoulders relaxing. “That’s vague enough to sound both exciting and mildly concerning.”
“Only if you're afraid of a little adventure,” he says. “So, what do you say? Feel like breaking a rule or two tonight?”
It’s tempting, more than you care to admit. After the mess of your last relationship, something casual, something fun, feels like exactly what you need.
No strings, no complications, just one night where you don’t have to overthink.
“Fine,” you say before you can change your mind. “But if it’s boring, I’m blaming you.”
Carlos chuckles, confidence palpable even over the phone. “Deal. I’ll pick you up at ten. Wear something you can run in just in case.”
“Run?” you repeat, half-laughing. “What are we doing, robbing a bank?”
“Not unless you want to,” he quips. “Pick you at nine?”
“Make it ten,” you counter.
“Perfect,” he says, and you can hear the smile in his voice. “I’ll see you then.”
At exactly 10 p.m., you step out of your building to find him leaning against a sleek black car, his arms crossed casually over his chest. He looks up as you approach, his grin lighting up the cool night.
“Punctual,” he says, straightening. “I like that.”
“Don’t get too excited. I had to pull some serious James Bond moves just to get down here without getting caught.”
Carlos raises an eyebrow, his grin already threatening to take over his face. “You had to sneak out? Please tell me this involved climbing out a window, a grappling hook, or at least a dramatic roll through the bushes.”
“Dial it back, Hollywood,” you shoot back, rolling your eyes. “Charles is in the same hotel, so I had to wait until he was distracted. Then it was all service elevators and a full-on sprint through the lobby. Not my proudest moment.”
Carlos lets out a laugh that’s so loud it practically echoes. “A sprint? In heels? I would’ve paid to see that. Did you also hurdle over a concierge desk? Maybe slap on a disguise?”
“Oh, sure,” you say dryly. “I borrowed a waiter’s tuxedo, grabbed a martini tray, and dramatically whispered, ‘The eagle has landed’ into my nonexistent earpiece. Happy?”
Carlos is practically wheezing now. “God, I love this. The mental image alone is worth every risk of me getting yelled at by Charles later.”
“Glad my suffering is your entertainment,” you grumble, though you can’t help the small smile tugging at your lips.
“It’s not suffering,” he teases, opening the passenger door with a flourish. “It’s resourcefulness. And it’s sexy, honestly. Nothing like a woman who can evade capture.”
Sliding into the car, you’re greeted by the smell of leather and something distinctly spicy- his cologne, no doubt.
You buckle your seatbelt with a sigh. “Let’s just hope Charles doesn’t find out. I don’t need another lecture about ‘dangerous distractions.’”
Carlos rounds the car and slides into the driver’s seat, shooting you an amused look. “Dangerous distractions? That is what he calls me?”
“Paraphrased,” you say, tilting your head. “But yeah, you’re not exactly his favorite person.”
Carlos starts the car, the low rumble of the engine filling the air. “Dangerous, distracting… mysterious? I mean, he is not wrong, no?”
“Sure, if you consider reckless confidence a mystery,” you deadpan, smirking.
The car glides through the streets, city lights flickering like distant stars. Soft music hums in the background, but it’s the easy rhythm of his laugh that keeps drawing your attention.
“So,” you say, breaking the silence, “do you make a habit of this? Sweeping women off their feet with late-night escapades and mediocre charm?”
Carlos glances at you, his grin widening. “Define habit.”
“Something you do as often as breathing, blinking, or inflating your ego,” you reply, deadpan.
He chuckles, one hand leaving the wheel to gesture grandly. “First of all, I don’t charm everyone. I have standards. Second, I don’t see you as a stranger. More like… a riddle wrapped in an enigma wrapped in—”
“Don’t say mystery,” you cut in, groaning.
“Fine,” he says, smirking. “A challenge. And I love challenges.”
You arch a brow. “So what you’re saying is, I’m a Rubik’s Cube in heels?”
“Exactly,” he says, like it’s the highest compliment he could ever give someone.
“Oh, well, as long as I’m colorful and frustrating,” you reply, rolling your eyes.
Carlos grins. “And completely irresistible.”
“Please tell me that’s not your go-to line,” you say, pinching the bridge of your nose in mock despair.
“Of course not,” he huffs, mock-offended. “My go-to line is, ‘Hi, I’m Carlos. Are you French? Because Eiffel for you.’”
You practically choke on your laugh. “That’s horrible. That’s, like, pick-up line rock bottom.”
“Rock bottom?” he echoes, feigning shock. “No way. It works every time.”
“Oh, I’m sure it does.” You shake your head. “On toddlers and tourists.”
“Hey,” he says, pointing a finger at you. “It worked on you, didn’t it?”
“Absolutely not,” you say, your laugh betraying you. “I’m here despite you, not because of you.”
Carlos smirks, his voice dripping with mischief. “Keep telling yourself that, mastermind. But I know the truth- you couldn’t resist the ‘dangerous distraction.’”
You groan, sinking further into your seat. “You’re insufferable.”
“And you,” he says, shooting you a quick, playful glance, “are having the time of your life, admit it.”
For once, you’re not entirely sure he’s wrong.
The car eventually pulls into the driveway of a sleek, modern hotel, its lights gleaming against the night sky.
You turn to Carlos, raising a skeptical brow, putting on your best impression of someone highly offended as he parks in front of the gleaming hotel. “So, this was the plan all along? Fancy hotel, late-night charm, and then…?”
You don’t even have to finish the sentence because his grin, the one that’s already halfway to insufferable, answers for him.
“And then what?” he fires back, leaning one arm against the steering wheel like he’s posing for a GQ article.
“You know exactly what,” you say, narrowing your eyes dramatically.
Carlos gasps, clutching his chest like you’ve just insulted his entire family tree. “Wow. So that’s where your mind went? I bring you here for the view and the ambiance, and you’re already casting me as the villain? Shame on you.”
“Oh, please,” you reply, fighting to keep your laugh in check. “I’m just cutting to the chase. Save us both the trouble.”
Carlos turns to face you and nothing in his face says he's particularly ashamed to admit his intentions. “Look, I could tell you some noble story about how I just wanted to show you the city from a better perspective.”
“But?” you prompt, raising a brow and you cover a laugh when he tuts at your impatience.
“But, I figured you’re too smart for that,” he admits with a shrug. “So yes, I brought you here thinking we would share a night.”
Your stomach flips at the sheer confidence of his answer, but you force the neutral expression to stay. “Bold of you to assume I’d even be interested.”
Carlos leans in slightly, voice dropping to something softer, teasing. “Oh, I’m sorry. Should I have taken the whole ‘call me’ thing as you wanting to discuss philosophy?”
He leans in, smirk turning positively dangerous. “Plus. Trouble’s half the fun, is it not?”
“Yeah, well, I’m not paying for room service if this whole charade involves a well-rehearsed speech,” you shoot back, unbuckling your seatbelt.
“Speech?” he echoes, already stepping out of the car and coming around to your side. He opens your door with an exaggerated bow that is far too ridiculous to be charming but it manages to be anyway. “If I were planning a speech, it would be Oscar-worthy. Full drama, perhaps a soundtrack. But alas, I left my tuxedo at home.”
“Shame,” you deadpan, stepping out. “A tux might’ve added some credibility.”
Carlos shrugs before gently taking your hand. “M’lady, allow me to escort you to… whatever this is.”
“You’re laying it on a little thick, don’t you think?” you say, stepping out.
“Thick is how I do everything,” he replies. “Thick charm, thick dessert layers.. Thick..”
He trails off, wiggling his eyebrows.
You groan, unable to help yourself. “Are you 13, Sainz?”
“Going on 30.”
The elevator ride is like a high-stakes staring contest, except Carlos is clearly cheating by smirking every time you glance his way.
He leans against the wall like a man who’s never faced consequences in his life, while you remain firmly committed to ignoring him.
“I could get used to this silence,” he finally says, breaking it. “Very... peaceful.”
You don’t even look at him. “If you wanted peaceful, Carlos, you picked the wrong girl.”
His laugh echoes in the small space, low and entirely too confident.
The suite is jaw-droppingly beautiful, the kind of place you’d expect to see in a movie where the protagonist definitely can’t afford it.
Floor-to-ceiling windows frame a cityscape so gorgeous it feels like you’ve just walked into a tourism campaign.
Even Charles doesn't splurge this much on hotels. Much less hotels to spend a one-night stand in.
“Alright,” you admit grudgingly as you step onto the balcony. “This is… adequate.”
Carlos sidles up beside you, resting his elbows on the railing. “Adequate? Adequate? That’s like calling the Mona Lisa ‘a decent sketch.’”
“Relax, da Vinci,” you reply. “It’s a view, not the eighth wonder of the world.”
He shakes his head in mock dismay. “Do you have any idea how hard it was to book this place? I practically had to arm-wrestle a guy named Greg for it. Poor man is probably crying into his budget tiramisu right now.”
You snort, folding your arms. “I hope Greg writes an angry Yelp review. ‘Carlos stole my room and ruined my tiramisu dreams.’”
“Hey, I was thinking of your happiness,” Carlos counters, gesturing grandly to the suite. “You should be thanking me.”
“Oh, thank you, generous benefactor, for saving me from the horror of Greg’s tiramisu,” you deadpan, though your lips twitch toward a smile.
Carlos taps his fingers on the table like he’s just cracked the da Vinci code wide open. “Boom! A smile! My evil plan is working.”
You squint at him, feigning shock. “You have an evil plan?”
“Obviously,” he says. “I am a professional at this stuff. There’s a whole spreadsheet.”
“Spreadsheets? Really? What’s in Column A? ‘Step one: tiramisu. Step two: convince her I’m worth her time’?”
“Not quite,” Carlos waves a hand as though dismissing your obvious lack of understanding. “Step two is actually ‘compliment her taste in balcony design.’”
You roll your eyes. “Well, in that case, I’ll have to charge you for emotional damages.”
Carlos grins, taking out his phone with an easy flick of his hand. “No need to worry, it’s all part of the strategy. Tiramisu’s on the way, and my evil plan is flawless.”
You cross your arms and step away from the window, keeping your eyes locked on his. “Define ‘flawless,’” you tease, your voice sharp with mock suspicion.
Carlos steps closer, smirking like a man on a mission. “Flawless enough that it is guaranteed to work on you.”
You raise an eyebrow. “Oh really?”
His eyes flicker to your lips, and suddenly the air between you feels warmer. “Really,” he murmurs, his voice lower now, teasing with the kind of certainty that makes your heart do a little flip.
“You’re not really gonna make me wait for that tiramisu, are you?” You ask, leaning in just a little, challenging him with a smile that’s all confidence and mischief.
Carlos doesn’t even flinch.
In fact, he takes a step closer, his fingers brushing your wrist with a too-easy familiarity. “Greg can have it.”
Your breath catches as his forehead comes to rest against yours.
“Do I have your consent to skip to the good part?” he whispers, hand brushing against your waist, lingering for your permission. “I promise I’ll wine and dine you next time.”
You can’t help but smile, and he mirrors it, that same knowing look in his eyes.
Both of you know there's not going to be a next time. This is it.
Carlos leans in, just close enough for you to feel the heat of his breath on your skin. "I mean it. Next time, you get the full treatment.”
You smirk. "No need to get romantic. We both know that's a lie.”
For a split second, he doesn’t answer.
Then he shrugs, as if he’s made peace with the fleeting nature of this whole thing. "Yeah, probably," he admits, not at all shy.
The world is big and messy. Tomorrow, you'll wake up with responsibilities, regrets, maybe even some bruised pride.
But not tonight.
Not in this room.
You lean in, the air thick with anticipation, and that's all it takes.
Carlos surges forward, catching you off guard with how quickly he takes the lead. His hands cradle your face like it’s something precious, his fingers spreading across your jaw with a touch so warm and careful it makes your chest tighten.
For a moment, everything goes still.
The absurdity of it all melts away as you sink into the kiss, soft and electric all at once.
The heat of him consumes you, the world blurring into nothing but Carlos and the way he tastes. Sweet, intoxicating, and just a little messy. Lips collide, teeth graze, and the rhythm is anything but steady, but you can’t bring yourself to care.
Carlos moves the two of you toward the bed, gently backing you up until your knees hit the mattress. His dark eyes shine with a playfulness that’s new to you, and he can’t help the grin tugging at his lips when you let out the softest gasp as you fall back against the pillows.
He leans over you, his fingers already searching for the zipper of your dress. His lips brush your ear as he murmurs, “Strip for me, baby.”
You’re hesitant for a beat, cheeks flushing pink, but then you comply, your movements shy but determined as you step out of your dress. Carlos watches, captivated, as if seeing you like this is the most enchanting thing in the world.
“God, you’re so cute,” he says, his voice filled with awe and a touch of amusement.
The moment your bra joins the pile of discarded clothing, his hand reaches behind you, fingers deftly undoing the clasp with a practiced flick of his wrist.
“Done this before?” you tease softly, your eyes sparkling with mischief.
Carlos chuckles, his grin widening. “Maybe once or twice.”
His hands cup your breasts gently, his thumbs brushing over the sensitive peaks. The way your body trembles under his touch makes his chest ache with affection. He dips his head, lips wrapping around a nipple, his tongue swirling teasingly as his eyes meet yours.
The little sounds you make are almost too much for him. Every gasp, every whimper, every squirm beneath him sends his heart racing.
“Still okay?” he asks softly, his voice tinged with concern.
You nod quickly, your expression so earnest and trusting it makes his chest swell. “Yeah,” you whisper, your voice trembling but sure.
Carlos smiles, pressing a kiss to your forehead before trailing his hand down your body, his fingertips brushing over your stomach, then your thighs. He hooks his fingers into your panties, sliding them down your legs with an almost reverent care.
“You’re so wet, cariño,” he murmurs, his voice low and filled with wonder. His fingers trail through your slick folds, teasing lightly before pressing against your clit in soft, deliberate circles.
The way your body arches, the quiet, desperate whimpers spilling from your lips—it’s almost too adorable for him to handle.
He pauses, bringing a finger to his lips and sucking your taste off it with a hum of satisfaction. “I’m going to go down on you,” he says, his voice steady but tinged with anticipation. “Let me take care of you, hmm?”
You whine, covering your face with your hands, clearly embarrassed, but Carlos just chuckles, his heart melting at how cute you are.
“Look at me,” he coaxes gently, his tone soft but firm.
When you peek at him through your fingers, your nose scrunching slightly, he grins. “Good girl.”
The shudder that runs through you at his words doesn’t go unnoticed, and he files that reaction away for later.
He shifts, settling between your thighs before shouldering your knees apart, taking a moment to admire your glistening cunt, flushed and swollen with desire.
Carlos is aching in the confines of his jeans, hard and dripping precum into his boxers, but that can wait.
It’s going to wait.
"So beautiful," he breathes, his fingertips barely grazing the sensitive flesh as he spreads you open for his hungry gaze. “Mierda..”
His eyes follow a drop of come that escapes your clenching cunt, enraptured. He smears it along your clit, relishing in the way your body jerks up on the bed.
Leaning in, he drags the flat of his tongue up your slit in one slow deliberate lick, savoring.
"Mmmm..I could spend hours worshipping this pretty little cunt.” Carlos hums, his eyes fluttering shut. The taste of you, sweet and heady, has him groaning softly.
Your body responds instinctively, your back arching as you clutch at the sheets, soft cries spilling from your lips.
He repeats the motion before he can even think about it, tongue flicking across your clit.
He does that a few more times before shifting, grimacing as his covered bulge rubs against the mattress.
Carlos flicks over the bundle of nerves, then wraps his arms around your legs, lifting them from where they're settled and placing them above his shoulders. He spreads your lips, and then gets started.
“Fuck!” You gasp, back arching as you scramble for purchase, sanity fraying with every plunge of his tongue inside of you.
He seals his lips around your clit and suckles gently, flicking the tip of his tongue rapidly over the sensitive bud.
“I'm- Ah! Oh god, oh shi-it..- Please..” You're not quite sure what you're begging for. All you know is that you're going to die if Carlos stops.
"I'm gonna put in a finger, okay?" Carlos asks, looking up at you for your permission.
Usually, he’s not big on communication, not because he dislikes it, but because he’s rarely found it to be necessary.
But now, here you are, putting on a brave face and quietly defying your brother for the night.
He finds himself pleasantly surprised to enjoy the opportunity to guide you through it.
He grins when you nearly weep in relief.
"Yes, god yes..”
"Just tell me if anything feels uncomfortable.”
He circles your entrance for a moment, placing a kiss on your clit for the sake of it before slowly sinking a finger inside your slick heat.
He waits till your hips start shifting, seeking some sort of friction, before pumping them in a steady rhythm, his palm grazing your clit with each pass.
You’re tight, walls clenching down on just one of his fingers but your wetness makes it a little more easy to slide inside.
He gives a few slow pumps, checking your reaction, before picking up the pace and licking at your clit again.
You’re starting to make a mess, dripping down onto the sheets, and he wonders just how wet he can get you. Will you drip? Will you leak? Will you squirt?
"There we go.." Carlos praises, his words vibrating against your sensitive flesh.
“One more?”
You nod eagerly.
“Words, cariño,” he chides softly, his lips quirking into a playful smile.
“Y-Yes, please, Carlos,” you manage, your voice trembling but eager.
“There’s my good girl,” he praises again.
A shiver runs through you again and he grins, pushing back in with two fingers. Your face twists at the intrusion for just a moment before your hazy eyes are back on him, nodding as you catch his silent question.
Carlos curls his fingers slightly, stroking that spongy patch high on your front wall, easily finding your g-spot in another second as he tilts the angle of his wrist and your jaw drops, eyes widening.
"Oh mon dieu, don't- don't- stop-” you sob.
He laughs, has half the mind to tease but decides to do as you ask and make better use of his mouth by sucking on your clit again.
Your juices gush around his pistoning fingers as he feels your silken walls clamp down on the invasion, rippling and squeezing him in their velvety grip.
Carlos doesn't let up even as you try to squirm away from him, feet planted on his shoulders and trying to push him off your pussy.
He only growls, drags you closer to his mouth, his wicked tongue working your throbbing clit furiously.
"Yes, yes, that's it, let it all out for me," he coaxes between slurping kisses to your twitching sex. "Soak my face. Come on. Know you're close, baby.”
Carlos massages that spot inside you that has your toes curling, and the noises your wet pussy is making are completely obscene, seem to echo in the room.
“Wait-” a panicked wail leaves your lips but Carlos is too far gone, gulping for air as he replaces his tongue with his hand, the red and swollen bud of your clit rubbing against the rapid back and forth of his palm.
But Carlos doesn’t stop, too caught up in the sudden gush of fluid from your body.
His determined ministrations, almost frantic now, send droplets scattering across the bed and even onto his face.
You gasp at the mess, cheeks flushing as you take in the drenched state of his light blue button-up. "Oh my god, I’m so sorry-"
Carlos pauses, sitting up slightly as he glances down at his drenched shirt. For a moment, you think he might be upset, but then he grins. A slow, lazy, thoroughly pleased grin that makes your heart skip.
“Sorry?” he echoes, shrugging out of the shirt and tossing it aside. “Baby, don’t apologize for that. That was incredible.”
His hand moves to your cheek, cupping it gently as he brushes his thumb over your flushed skin.
Your eyes dart away, but he tilts your chin up, coaxing you to meet his gaze.
“You’ve never done that before, have you?” he asks softly, his voice filled with warmth and curiosity.
You shake your head, feeling a little bashful. “I didn’t even know I could.”
“Well, now you do,” he murmurs, his grin softening into a fond smile. “And it was beautiful. You were beautiful.”
His words make you blink up at him, your lips parting as if to argue, but the sincerity in his gaze stops you. Instead, a small, shy smile tugs at your lips, and you nod.
Carlos leans down, pressing a kiss to your forehead before his lips brush against yours, slow and tender. “Do you trust me to keep going?” he asks quietly, his breath warm against your skin.
Your response is immediate, a soft and eager, “Yes,” escaping your lips as your fingers thread into his hair, holding him close for just a moment longer.
Carlos groans, before pulling back and sliding off you.
His movements are deliberate, gaze flickering to meet yours as he reaches for the waistband of his jeans.
You can’t help but follow his every move, your eyes heavy with anticipation as he tugs the denim down, revealing inch by inch of him.
He steps out of his pants with a casual confidence that makes your pulse race. His smirk deepens as he notices your unabashed stare, the way your gaze lingers. “Enjoying the view?” he teases, his tone rough but playful.
You bite your lip, a shy but knowing smile creeping onto your face. “Maybe,” you admit softly, your voice laced with just enough mischief to make him chuckle.
“Well, then let’s make sure you enjoy the rest, too,” he says, removing his boxers.
As he does, his erection comes into full view, thick and heavy and already leaking precum at the tip.
Your eyes widen as you take in the impressive sight, a rush of fresh arousal surging through you.
You breathe out, trying to compose yourself. You chance a glance at him and he meets your eyes, nodding his head.
Your fingers wrap around Carlos’ wrist, pulling him back to the bed with a surprising determination that has him raising a brow.
Before he can say a word, you’ve moved between his legs, your intentions clear. Carlos barely has time to process what’s happening before his breath hitches.
“Fuck.”
Your warm, wet mouth enveloping his cock sends a jolt of pleasure straight through him and his eyes nearly roll back.
You move deliberately, letting your tongue glide along his length before pulling back to focus on his tip, swirling and teasing in a way that has Carlos groaning low in his throat.
His hands find their way to the back of your head, resting there more for balance than control, though he murmurs praises that tumble out unbidden.
"That's it, baby, just like that," he breathes, his voice rough with restraint. "Good girl… Fuck, you're such a good girl."
That last phrase draws a muffled moan from you, the vibrations traveling through him like a shockwave, making his stomach clench.
He can’t stop the thought that flashes through his mind— such a good fucking girl.
You find a rhythm, bobbing steadily while your hand works what your mouth doesn’t reach.
Each flick of your tongue over the sensitive underside of his cock has him twitching, a breathy curse escaping when you take him deeper, testing your limits
The warmth and pressure make his head spin, but when your eyes meet his, wide and glimmering with mischief, Carlos feels his control slipping.
"Shit-" he gasps, the sensation overwhelming as he feels the tip of himself graze the back of your throat.
The way your tongue works at the base sends a spike of pleasure so sharp, balls tightening, that Carlos has to act fast, pulling you off with a groan before he cums before even fucking you.
You look up at him, lips swollen and cheeks flushed, a glimmer of satisfaction in your expression.
A thin line of saliva clings to your chin, and you swipe it away casually, your grin both coy and triumphant.
"Holy fuck," he breathes out, running a hand over his face.
It's all the warning you get before he grabs you, flipping your positions in one swift motion so he’s above you again, his body crowding yours.
“Where'd a pretty little thing like you learn how to suck cock like that, huh?”
Your grin doesn’t falter as you murmur, “Wouldn’t you like to know.
Carlos smirks, leaning down close enough that his breath brushes against your skin. He murmurs, voice dark with promise, “let’s see what else you can do."
Carlos leans over you, his hands bracketing your sides as he captures your lips in a slow, heated kiss.
Pulling back just enough to speak, his voice drops to a low, husky murmur. “Dios mío, I can’t wait to fuck you...”
You’re breathless, your lips parted and your gaze heavy-lidded, but there’s a spark of challenge in your tone as you manage to say, “Then do it.”
His eyes darken as he takes in your defiance. “Oh, don’t worry, cariño,” he says. “I will.”
Carlos pulls a condom from beneath the pillow with a sly grin, ignoring your quiet laugh.
He makes quick work of rolling the latex sheath down his length. Making sure you see just so you don't feel uneasy about it.
Reaching for a bottle of lube that he'd asked the hotel staff to leave in the bedside drawer, he opens the cap slowly.
He notices the quizzical look in your eyes and addresses the unspoken question with a shrug. "Just to be safe. Better overdone than under, eh?”
Carlos lubes up his fingers thoroughly before reaching down to massage your slick folds.
His fingers trace teasing circles around your entrance, dipping in just enough to feel you flutter and squeeze, like you’re already trying to pull him closer. It’s almost too cute how your body responds, eager and impatient.
As Carlos begins to press in, the head of his cock breaching your tight entrance, your features twist in the most adorable way, your brows pinching together, lips parting slightly as you adjust. He can’t help but marvel at how perfect you look, even like this.
He exhales sharply, trying to stifle a groan.
Carlos isn’t usually the type to get too vocal, but the way you feel is making it impossible to hold back.
“Shhh, relax for me, amor,” he murmurs, his voice soft and reassuring.
One hand strokes soothing circles on your lower back while the other cups your cheek, his thumb brushing against your flushed skin.
He’s trying to be patient, gentle, because he doesn’t want to rush you, doesn’t want to miss a single moment of this.
He pauses whenever your expression tightens, his eyes fixed on you like you’re the most precious thing he’s ever seen.
The way you wriggle your hips a little, trying to get used to him, only makes his heart clench. You’re trying so hard for him, to take his cock, and it’s impossibly endearing.
Finally, you nod, your voice a soft whisper. “Okay… Okay, you can move.”
Carlos doesn’t need to be told twice.
He starts slow, his movements careful and deliberate, as if he’s afraid of breaking something fragile. Each sound you make, the tiny gasps, the way you breathe his name, sends a shiver through him.
He's going to be obsessed with you if you keep it up.
The way your back arches beneath him, how your hands cling to his shoulders, and the soft “oh” that slips from your lips when he pushes a little deeper. All of it makes him want to be drunk with you.
When he’s as far as he can go, he pauses, watching your face, his voice laced with affection and just a hint of smugness. “Never been this full?”
You shake your head, biting your lip in that shy way, your hips shifting against him instinctively.
He chuckles softly, starting to move again, his pace slow and steady at first. But as you begin to meet his thrusts, matching him perfectly, he picks up speed, his movements more purposeful.
Each deliberate snap of his hips pulls the sweetest, most melodic sounds from you, soft gasps and little whimpers that only spur him on.
You’re perfect. So fucking cute.
The slick heat between you makes every movement smooth, though Carlos slips out a couple of times, only to guide himself back in easily.
Your nails dig into his shoulders, leaving faint marks that spur him on, and your cloudy, pleasure-drunk eyes roll back in the most pretty way, making his chest ache with something more than just lust.
“Do you wanna ride me, baby?” he asks, his voice soft but laced with need.
“Y-yeah,” you stammer, your voice trembling as you nod eagerly.
There’s a flicker of shyness in your movements, a hesitation that only makes you more endearing to him.
Even though your limbs are heavy with exhaustion, you don’t hesitate, shifting so Carlos can lie on his back while you straddle him. He watches you with rapt attention, his lips quirking into a small, affectionate smile as you position yourself over him.
His hand wraps around his length, teasing your folds with the head, and he’s utterly mesmerized by the way your lips part, the way you bite down on them as you begin to lower yourself.
Inch by inch, you take him, and he can’t help but think of how you’re the prettiest thing he’s ever seen.
His hands find your hips instinctively, gripping you gently but firmly.
Despite his intention to let you set the pace, his need wins out, and he begins guiding you up and down before you even have a chance to adjust.
A loud, sweet moan escapes your lips as you lean forward, kissing him with an urgency that’s almost too cute for words.
Your teeth tug at his lower lip, making him groan softly, his hands tightening on your waist.
Then you start to move on your own, bouncing on him with a surprising confidence, and your wide, innocent eyes flick up to meet his. Even as the heat radiates from your every motion, there’s something so sweet in the way you look at him, like you’re trying to get his approval.
“Like this?” you slur, your voice barely above a whisper.
“Yeah, just like that,” Carlos breathes, his voice thick and low.
The lewd, wet sounds of your bodies moving together threaten to push him over the edge, but he focuses on the adorable way you’re trying so hard to be good for him.
“You’re so good for me,” he groans, his words spilling out without thought, and the way you whimper in response, your lips parting in a needy gasp, makes his heart race.
You sink down fully, grinding against him, and he watches your expression shift. When you find the perfect angle, your eyes widen in a mix of wonder and surprise, locking onto his like you can’t believe how good it feels.
“Keep going, baby,” he murmurs, his thumb finding your clit and circling it gently, his voice filled with awe. “You’re perfect. So perfect. Let go for me.”
Your movements grow frantic, your fingers digging into his shoulders as your body trembles. Carlos watches in utter fascination as your lips part in a choked whimper, and then you cry out, your release hitting you in waves.
Warmth floods over him, soaking his skin and the sheets beneath, but all he can think about is how beautiful, how absolutely adorable, you are in this moment.
The sight, the sound, the feel of you. It’s too much. Carlos’ grip tightens on your waist as he thrusts upward one last time, his own climax crashing into him.
His body shudders beneath you, his head tipping back as he empties himself completely, groaning your name softly.
When it’s over, you collapse onto his chest, your breaths mingling as both of you struggle to steady yourselves.
Carlos’ hands wander to your lower back, tracing gentle circles near the dimples that make you squirm slightly, a halfhearted giggle escaping your lips.
He chuckles softly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. The two of you lie there in the quiet, the warmth of each other’s presence wrapping around you like a blanket.
After a long pause, Carlos speaks, his voice filled with playful affection. “You want tiramisu?”
The sleepy laugh you let out is so cute it makes his heart flip, and he knows he’d do anything just to keep hearing it.
The thought makes him sick.
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hellsslibrary · 3 days ago
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Sae + feminization and breeding kink please I need it
You can make him an omega too if you want
"Come on, dude. Skirts were originally made for men, they rock them way better than girls..."
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MASTERLIST is here.
#a.n. : THIS WAS THE BEST THING I'VE EVER WRITTEN. If anything, for the script I took that extra scene where they assumed Sae was a crossdresser, but if he really was and that makeup bag wasn't from Aiku's ex, yeah. So you can imagine that picture of Sae.
!!Warnings: crossdressing, light feminization, breeding kink (obviously), top!reader, bottom!Sae, no dom/sub boundaries, but Sae is a little more dominant if you choose (sorry, power bottom Sae world domination), praise and worship, riding, thoughts about what Sae would be like if he were a girl, but they're not serious, at the end Sae puts lipstick on your lips because I thought it was cute.
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The soft rustle of the sheets, Sae's almost inaudible sighs, your moans, the slight groaning of the bed and the slapping of bodies against each other echoed in the large bedroom. Your eyes were fixed on Sae's calm and contented face as he slowly rode your cock.
His damn long eyelashes were even more visible because of the mascara on them, his lips were tinted with cute pink lipstick, and his cheeks were blushing not only from your actions with him. There were gold earrings in his ears, as well as a small necklace around his neck. On his torso was your shirt, which was not buttoned up, and on his hips was a regular pleated skirt and fuck... It was the hottest view in the world.
"So... What were you angry about when you came?" you ask, breaking out of your thoughts about admiring the perfect man on your cock, forcing him to open his eyes and look at you.
"I'm not angry, just a little disappointed. This infantile striker from the U-20 was rummaging through my bag... Found makeup there," Sae says evenly, interrupted by a light sigh from his lips as your hips slightly moved up during his bouncing. "They put it down to the fact that I have a girlfriend or something. It doesn't matter, don't think about it."
"You? A girlfriend? Funny..." you giggle, squeezing his waist tighter, which is why he started pushing on your shaft a little harder, pressing his hips on you. "When you reveal our relationship, it's obviously... Will make them disappointed? What should people think in such a situation? I don't know."
"I'm telling you, don't think about it. Even if they thought it was mine, it doesn't matter at all," Sae shakes his head at your thoughts, tightening his grip on your chest, leaving red marks from his nails there.
"Mmm, what do you think you would look like if you were a girl? Well, I mean, your breasts... I think it would be small, it would suit you. Maybe A-cup? Maximum B-cup..?"
"Idiot, what are you thinking about? If I were a girl, nothing would have changed... You just wouldn't get out of my cunt," the midfielder whispers, frowning slightly, moving his hips in a circular motion and then shrugging his shoulders. "But I think so. Small breasts sound logical. You are gay, why are you having such thoughts?"
"I don't know... You'd be such a queen... You're still the queen, though," you chuckle, lightly pressing on Sae's lower back, making him arch back, admiring his slender but muscular curves.
He just raises an eyebrow at these words, but doesn't pay attention to them, closing his eyes again and just focusing on how your cock feels inside him.
But your eyes didn't close for a second. How could they when a literal deity was riding your dick? Exactly, no way. You tried to absorb his every reaction, the way his breathing hitches, the way his hips twitch, the way his eyelashes flutter, the way he bites his lip to hide his moans, all of it.
You would literally worship this body without ceasing, if it were physically possible, of course. He would kiss every inch of you, come up with the most original and romantic epithets just for him, just for the beautiful man in front of you.
"Sae?"you ask carefully, looking at him, and his only reaction is to mumble. "You like it when I'm in your bussy, right?"
Sae's eyes immediately open and he stops his movements, looking at you with such a disapproving look that even your cock inside Sae moves from humiliation... Or something else.
"What is it... Bussy?" He's asking, even though he clearly doesn't want to know the answer to that question, judging by your face, which is red with shame and obvious excitement.
"Pussy. Man's. Like a boy plus a pussy and you get a bussy..."
Sae just blinks slowly at your explanation, and then sighs as expected. After all, what did he expect from you? And he resumes his movements, making you whimper softly at the feeling of him squeezing around you.
"Yes, I like it," he whispers confidently, flicking your nipple, which makes you blush even more, but you're clearly smiling contentedly, and then you raise yourself up on your elbows and kiss him.
The elder Itoshi just sighs, but puts his hands on your shoulders, responding with a kiss, which is why most of you have to push into him obviously not rhythmically, given the not particularly comfortable position, but it doesn't matter. The way his lips slide against yours and you feel the faint taste of chocolate from his lipstick, the way he moaned softly into your mouth was enough.
He pulls away first when he notices that you're whimpering from lack of movement and gently pushes you back onto the pillows, eyeing you. A barely visible smile suddenly appears on his face, only the corners of his lips turn up.
"Sae, why are you smiling, hmm?" you ask, rubbing his sides, thinking maybe he's amused by your impatience or something, but the next second he grabs your chin, grabbing something from the bedside table and opening it.
"You look good with my lipstick," he whispers, carefully smearing the lipstick on your slightly moist, pouty lips, and then pulling away, slowly running his thumb along the edge of your lips, where his own lipstick smeared after the kiss. "You also obviously enjoyed the taste, no?"
"If you were on my face, it would be even better... Mmm!" escapes your lips, but Sae just snorts and kisses you again, grabbing your chest and slightly accelerating his hips, swallowing your moans with pleasure.
"You're going to be an even better boy and make me cum, and I'll think about it, okay?" Sae asks, whispering it into your lips, narrowing his gaze when he looks at your lust-clouded eyes, and after your quick nod, he just kisses you gently on the cheek.
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msfantasy-anime · 3 days ago
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A Visit from Father
Monkey D. Luffy x Wife!Reader
Summary: Y/n’s father Mihawk has visited to check in on his daughter.
A/n: I wasn’t ever going to give Y/n parents in this AU. But someone sent a DM requesting to Mihawk to be the father and on good terms, so here we are hehe. You mother is whoever you want to picture.
Part IX
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Where the hell is everyone?! One minute you were all walking down the street. The next minute everyone walked off on their own without saying anything.
Whilst you begin to wonder the back streets yourself, you came across someone you expected the least.
“Dad?!” You shout with pure excitement, jumping into the arms of Dracule Mihawk, who is suddenly standing right before you in a random back alley. “What’re you doin’ here?”
“Saw your wanted poster.” Mihawk answers, holding up the newest edition. “Came to check in on you.” He answers, his demeanour remaining void of emotion, but the corner of his lips twitch ever so slightly at his daughter. “I just wanted to check in on you...“
“Huh? What about it?” You grumble, unable to resist making a sour face.
“You know, I never wanted this life for you.” Your heart plunges, unable and uninterested to be lectured by your father. It’s rare to cross paths and you just want to enjoy him being there whilst you can until he rushes off like he always does.
“Ugh, are you serious right now? Let’s not talk about it let’s just go and-”
“Listen.” Mihawk says, grabbing your shoulders and forcing you to listen. Your eyes darting away, unwilling to have a heart to heart with your father who you haven’t seen in a long time, next to some garbage. “After the Marines took your mother from us, simply because she was my lover, made me realise that you could never live a normal life with my name attached.”
“Yeah I know. You made the hard decision to leave me to be raised by others and your sacrifice was all for nothing because I went and became a pirate anyway- well I’m sorry to disappoint you-“
“Stop. You do not disappoint me.” Mihawk said sternly, his fingers digging into your shoulders and gives you a slight shake as if shaking you would bring you back to your senses. “You would never disappoint me. But since you now have a bounty, I see no reason to hide you from the world anymore.”
Your heart begins racing at your father’s words. “So what are you saying?”
“I’m saying, I want you to come live with me, I can teach you, spend time with you, take you on adventures.” He offers. “And I want the world to know you are my daughter. There’s no reason to hide you anymore.”
You missed out on being with him in your early years and now is your chance to spend time with him. But…
“It’s a dream come true dad… but…” Mihawk had some suspicions before, but he’s certain now.
“My offer doesn’t expire my girl.” He says, pulling you into a hug. “When you are finished with your adventures, the front door will always be open, ready to welcome you home.” Your eyes welled up but you swallow back your emotions, too embarrassed to cry.
Mihawk holds your face one last time before turning to leave. “Dad, before you go, I just wanted to thank you for leaving me in the east blue all that time ago.” Mihawk pauses, his eyes widening, his back remaining turned to you. “I could not have imagined what life would’ve been like without Sabo, Ace and of course … my husband, Luffy.”
“Your mother would be so proud of the woman you grew up to be.” Mihawk smiles at your bittersweet fair well. “Take care of my girl for me Strawhat.”
“Will do.” Luffy answers making you jolt from your spot.
“Ah! Seriously?! How long have you been standing there?!” You screech making Luffy cackle.
“Still afraidy cat huh?” He teases but quickly shuts up when he sees your serious face.
“I’ve just been thinking.”
“Yeah?”
“My dad won’t hide me from the rest of the world anymore, which means I’ll be known as Dracule Y/n.”
“Yeah and?” Luffy asks, picking his nose.
“I know I shouldn’t care but I do! You’re my damn husband and I want people to stop questioning it! Take me to the courthouse so we can hurry up and make this official already!”
“Huh?! We already talked about this damnit! We don’t need papers! We already had the wedding and everything!” Luffy protests but you stomp off on a mission.
“I don’t care! We are doing it again!”
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dorabellingham · 2 days ago
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Bed breaker
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warning: there is a part where if your native language is not english, you can substitute :)
characters: jude x reader
summary: when you decide to do certain things and the bed ends up breaking
may contain spelling and translation errors!
You were relaxing on the couch, wearing a light and comfortable dress, still savoring the unforgettable moments of the day. The apartment was silent, except for the sound of your favorite playlist playing softly in the background. It was already night when you heard the front door open.
—Babe?
Jude called, entering the apartment with his hair still damp from the shower in the locker room after training. He was dressed casually, in a tight black shirt and sweatpants.
You stood up with a smile, going to greet him.
—Here!
Jude wrapped you in a tight hug, burying his face in your neck.
—How was the rest of the day? Did you have fun?
—It was perfect. —You answered, feeling his comforting warmth. —And your training?
—Tiring, but nothing I can’t get over. —He pulled you closer, running his hands around your waist, and murmured: —Now all I can think about is how I want to end the day.
You laughed, but you could hear the tone in his voice.
—Oh, yeah? And what would that be like, honey?
He tilted his head, looking into your eyes with a mischievous glint.
—I think you already know.
Before you could answer, Jude picked you up, ignoring the shy protests you whispered.
—Jude!
You exclaimed, laughing as he carried you towards the bedroom.
He gently placed you on the bed and climbed in right after, pulling you towards him. The atmosphere quickly changed from playful to intense, with the closeness of you and his slow, determined touches.
You always loved the way he made you feel —special, wanted, like you were the only person in the world that mattered. And in that moment, you knew he was completely focused on you.
Things heated up quickly, the two of you completely forgetting about the world around you. But then, as the rhythm grew more intense, a loud crack echoed through the room, followed by the sound of wood breaking.
You and Jude froze, exchanging confused looks. And then... the bed gave way completely, the mattress sinking to one side as the frame broke.
You let out a yelp of surprise and then began to laugh uncontrollably. Bellingham, who was half on top of you and half trying to balance himself, let out a deep laugh.
—Are you okay, Y/n?
He asked between laughs.
—I am! But the bed clearly isn’t!
You replied, wiping away tears from your laughter.
—That was a sign that we’re too intense.
Jude joked, sitting on the crooked mattress.
You shook your head, still laughing.
—I knew this bed was flimsy, but you took it to another level, babe!
While you tried to compose yourselves, you started talking without thinking, still lost in the fun of the moment.
—It's completely ridiculous... I don't know how this happened
Jude stopped laughing and looked at you with a mixture of surprise and delight.
—What did you just say?
You blinked, realizing what you had said.
—Oh, sorry, it was automatic.
—No, no, keep going. —He asked, still smiling. —I love it when you talk like that. It's been years since I've heard your accent, sweetie.
You blushed, but decided to continue.
—I don't even know what to say. Maybe you should buy a sturdier bed?
Jude laughed out loud.
—I'm sure I'm going to have to buy one now. But you talking like that… I almost don't want you to stop.
You rolled your eyes, but couldn't hide your smile.
—You're really stupid, Jude.
—And I have no idea what that means, but it sounds cute.
He replied, leaning in to kiss you.
After a few minutes of joking and talking, you decided to improvise. Jude pulled the mattress to the floor and adjusted the pillows.
—This will have to do for now. And tomorrow, we'll buy a bed that can withstand our adventures.
You settled down next to him, still laughing lightly.
—I can't believe the bed broke today.
—I'd say it was a memorable way to end the day.
Jude replied, hugging you.
As the rain gently tapped on the window and tiredness finally caught up with you, you realized that, despite the setbacks, you wouldn't trade that moment for anything. You laughed until you fell asleep, promising that the next one would be even more unforgettable—with a new and much more resistant bed.
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milawritess · 14 hours ago
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Wherever you go, that's where I'll follow — Gojo Satoru
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pairing: Gojo Satoru x fem!reader
synopsis: crushed by the pressure of his work, Satoru and the reader's relationship begins to spiral. You do everything you can to make him happy, but you fear it's not enough. Maybe it never was. After a miscalculation that could have resulted in innocent lives being lost, the situation takes a turn for the worse.
Word count: 17k+ (I'm sorry in advance)
genre: heavy angst with happy ending
warnings: heavy angst, swearing, reader is a motherly figure to Megumi but their relationship is a bit strained, mentions of depression and self-doubt, reader is a sorcerer, fighting, insecurity, arguments, and breakups (?), descriptions of gore, mentions of sexual intercourse (mdni), depictions of a complicated and untraditional relationship, reader gets hurt, hardly edited/proofread (oops), gojo is fed up and mean :(
a/n: this is the first and longest thing I've ever posted on here lol. I felt like there was a lack of sorcerer!reader, so I played around with that concept a little bit. other than potentially shitty writing (sorry for any typos or grammatical errors), I truly hope you enjoy <3
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“Get out.”
The hash sentiment lingers, hanging heavily in the air. 
“Well, hello to you too.”
He hears your feet shuffle across the floor as you stumble to take your shoes and coat off. “I just came to check on you.”
“And I’m fine,” he responds without moving, one arm up, draping over his aching eyes. He lies on the living room couch, one lanky leg propped up at an angle.
“You’re clearly not fine,” you respond, seeming unphased. “Have you eaten anything?” You ask, waiting for a response that never comes. “Okay, I’ll make your favorite ramen.” 
He feels the side of the couch dip, your hand settling on his chest. Your fingers were greedy like you couldn’t stop yourself from playing with the fabric or caressing his taut muscles. Your voice is gentler when you speak this time. “Do you want an ice pack? Some tea?”
You two have done this dance before. You come home to find him exhausted, overworked with a migraine that could tranquilize an elephant. And just like always, you carefully slip his shoes off and unbutton the sleek black jacket to his uniform. It’s hard for him to stay mad about anything when you’re this kind, this caring. 
“Satoru, please say something.”
“There’s nothing to say.”
Your voice was so gentle. So sweet, saccharine, and so fucking patient. A voice you only ever reserved for him and for his ears only. A gentle whisper carried in a gentle breeze. It was his favorite sound. 
But not tonight. 
So you try something else. Sweet kisses along the corner of his lips. You’re even bold enough to move his arm, the arm he was using to desperately block out any light or simulation. You kiss his eyelids, his forehead, and cheeks—feather-light. Your hand slides up his chest before reaching his face. You caress your thumb under his closed eyes, and your other hand finds his hair, gently massaging his temple. He has all of you. Every bit. 
“Let me take care of you.” If it were any other night, your breath fanning his neck would have shattered him; goosebumps would have wrecked his body, he’d shiver, and everything in him would ease, and all of his stress would slip away into nothingness. He never had to be the strongest with you. You would render him down to nothing but a simple man with just a few words. “You don’t look too good, honey. I’m sorry you’re not feeling well.” For a woman so strong in your own right, a woman of unyielding dignity and poise and unwavering determination to succeed, this is his favorite side of you. 
But not tonight. 
When his hand clasps your wrist, he feels your whole body freeze against his. Maybe you were surprised. Maybe you predicted this and were preparing yourself but-
The tongue-lashing dies in his throat when he opens his eyes. Just a peak to your face makes him falter. You were pouting. Worried. “I’m fine.” it’s harsher than you deserve but kinder than the thoughts swirling through his head a second ago. 
He’s agitated. Stuck in the same old system that continues to fuck him over—his students over. 
And yet, you just looked too beautiful. 
You pull away, finally taking the hint. Then, you stand, fully removing yourself from him and stepping away. Your body heat quickly disappears from where you once sat, and he quivers. The room was quiet once again. 
The room remained quiet even as you placed a hot bowl of ramen on the table beside him, a glass of water, and two pills. 
You slept alone that night. 
-
You remember when you first met Megumi. 
“Who the hell are you?” 
You never would have expected that to be the the words from a child you had just met. You raised a brow. “Well, aren’t you a fucking, brat?” 
You were different back then—colder, angrier. You were similar in that sense.
Oddly enough, maybe that’s what gravitated him to you.  
You’re not sure when it happened, but gradually, the harsh edges of you began to… change. Not entirely softened, as thorns remained, but you bloomed, red petals and all. You grew softer, kinder, more patient—and finally—your heart had made space for others. The fear of loss remained, but you had never cared for someone so fragile. No one had ever cried for you, reached for you with small chubby fingers, or depended on you as he once had. You never had someone in your life that needed to be nurtured, protected, and guided. 
He was just a boy. 
Over time, you realized that if you remained unchanged, perhaps he would never grow into the man he needed to be. You’re not sure why he picked you, why he looked up to you of all people, but he did. He found comfort in you and followed you like a little duckling with a little waddle and permanent scowl. 
There wasn't a rhyme or reason. He chose you, and you chose him. 
Soon enough, you were waking him up for school, running your hands through his messy, dark locks. You were making him bento boxes, running to parent-teacher conferences, and having hard but meaningful conversations with him in his room about his troubling behavior. 
Then you were hugging him as he cried, as he revealed the same dark thoughts you once had about yourself. 
You wished this world wasn’t so cruel, so dark. You hope that in a different life, he would have grown into a normal kid, with hopes and dreams and a list of things he wanted to do and go out and experience. You didn’t want him to be shackled to a world that’s left you so scarred.
You fought for any sense of normality you could give him. If that meant confronting the higher-ups, so be it. At times, you even confronted Satoru. 
He was just a boy. 
Fire never harmed you;  it never dared to scorch your skin. You commanded and held domination over nearly every flicker of heat. He was so small when you met him; you remember the first time you saw his small form shiver in the cold. It made you anxious. Despite buying him the heaviest winter coat you could find, you were beside yourself, always wondering—is he warm enough? 
But, long were the days of you bundling him up in his jacket, tying his shoes, and tugging beanies over his dark hair and red ears. Long were the days of you clasping his little hands in yours to bring them warmth when the air grew too bitter. He grew older, smarter, wiser, and stronger. The boy that used to cling to your skirt after a hard day at school now stood inches taller than you. 
You knew that one day he’d leave you, and you were okay with that. Seeing him so ready for the world made you happy. You worried—of course you still worried—but you were so proud. He was hesitant, unsure at times, and sometimes even looked back to you for assurance. 
You were always there, smiling, ushering him along. 
You can do it. I believe in you. 
You grew up together, you think. Sometimes, you wondered if he ever paid for your shortcomings, or if he remembered your failures as a caregiver, but just like you did him, he’d assure you with a soft nudge and a gentle smile. 
He knows you did the best you could with what you had.  
He was just a boy. 
Your boy. 
He wasn’t yours, but you loved him like he was. Only as he grew did you realize the lines you had crossed. 
He doesn’t remember his mother, but you’re sure he remembered her smile, perhaps her touch, or the sound of her laughter. You never meant to impose on her memory.
When it happened, he had just gotten into Tokyo Jujutsu High, and Satoru took him on his first official mission. You no longer had the means of pushing this off; you couldn’t beg Satoru or the higher-ups for another month, another week, another day. Megumi wasn’t a normal kid. He was a sorcerer and needed to start fulfilling his duties and mastering his technique.
“You can’t avoid the inevitable. You can’t protect him forever,” Satoru had once told you. 
You knew he was right. 
You stayed home that day, anxious and worried, but you knew Megumi would be alright. Satoru was with him. Even if the tall man was a bit harder on Megumi than you, you knew he’d keep him safe. 
However, your worst fears came to fruition. Megumi wasn’t the same after that mission. 
You remember. Satoru’s eyes were stern that night while Megumi's eyes never left the floor as he made his way to his room. 
You remember thinking—what could I do to make my boys happy again? 
After all, they were your everything, the reason you stood here now with a full heart. Things were newer for you and Satoru then, but he kissed you that night, warm, large hands gently holding your cheeks. He missed you a little bit extra that day. You were nervous, hesitant to fall into the sanctuary of his embrace, but it was only a matter of time until you were fully, devotedly his.
 “Are you okay?” You had asked, only for him to nod his head. 
“Yeah. Of course, I am, angel. Megumi is shaken up, but he’ll be alright too.” 
You made Megumi’s favorite dinner that night—the same beefsteak he’s raved about since he was only six. Well, he never raved, but you perfectly remember the first time you made it, which happened to be the first time he tried it. He could barely get his chin over the table to scope his food into his mouth. He wasn’t good with chopsticks yet, so he used a little fork, which he held in his tiny fist. His little eyebrows raised before dipping down, creasing at the inner corners as he concentrated on the flavor. He murmured it’s good, and you remember being so proud of yourself. That was one of the first times you felt that you were doing something right by him. You made the same dish on occasion, and time only helped you perfect the recipe. 
Megumi never came out of his room that night. The lights were off when you knocked. Even after hearing no response, you had cracked open the door, poking your head inside. 
“Gumiii,” you stepped into his room. He was on his bed, groaning as you flicked the light on. He turned his back to you. “I made your favoriteee.”  
You had sat on the edge of his bed, a hot plate of food in your hands. “C’mon, it’s the beefsteak you like. Nice and warm.”
“‘m not hungry,” he had grumbled. 
You sighed. “The mission must have been unpleasant.” He remained still. “I’m sorry, Gumi. Satoru said you did well! I’m proud of you—” he flinched from your touch, snapping his arm away from your reach. You froze, having felt the coldness of his rejection. “If you don’t want to talk about the mission, how was your first day at your new school?” You asked. “Do you have any classmates you like?”
“Just quit it already…” he had murmured. “I’m not in the mood.”
Your shoulders slumped. “I’m sorry. I just want to make sure you’re okay. My first mission was tough too, and you already know I wasn’t great at making friends either–” you winced, biting your tongue.  This was coming out all wrong. “… are you okay, Megumi?” 
“I’m fine!” He clipped, pushing himself upright in bed. “Just leave me alone and stop acting like you’re my mom already!”  
You remembered—and just the memory of that night shambled your heart. You could never forget the hurt those words caused and how you couldn’t show it. 
You had smiled wearily. Then, you placed his dinner on his desk. “…you’re right,” you echoed. “I’m not her, never could be. I’m sorry if I imposed. I never meant to.”
You never spoke of the incident, but you remembered that things were tense between Satoru and Megumi for a short while after that. You told Satoru to drop it, but you had a feeling the poor boy received a tongue-lashing from Satoru. You were never sure, though, and you could never prove it. 
You just remembered feeling cracks in the foundation of the home you never knew you had so carefully crafted, brick by brick. Some of the warmth was gone—a warmth you never knew was quite there until it wasn’t. 
Little by little, you pulled back. Megumi moved into the student dorms shortly after, and he needed you less and less. You no longer made him bento boxes or his favorite beefsteak. You bit your tongue with the lectures: Megumi, that’s not nice, or Megumi, you need to have more faith in yourself. You can do it.  
Though the bitter bite of cold never entirely touched you, heated by an unquenchable fame, you pulled back your hand when you reached for him. He left you seared—burned. 
You still worried. You never knew if you were giving him too much or not enough. So, you left most of the mentoring to Satoru now.  It’s been a few months since the incident, and now you only ever speak to him if he approached you first. 
That's why you were happy when you spotted him in town. You offered him a small, shy wave. He unexpectedly approached you and asked how you were and what you’d been up to. However, the most unexpected part was when he asked if you were busy. You shook your head, and it was impossible to hide you beam when he offered to get you hot chocolate from the same coffee shop you used to take him to after school in the colder months.
However, it seemed you weren’t the only one confused by Satoru’s recent behavior. 
“Huh?”
“Gojo didn’t want me going on my mission,” Megumi reiterated. 
You blink a few times, tapping your fingers against the styrofoam cup in your hands. “Huh. He’s never done that before.”
“He doesn’t think I’m ready. He took the mission himself.”
“He said that? That he doesn’t think you’re ready?”
“Well… not exactly.” He scowls slightly, looking down at the cup of hot chocolate. “But he damn well implied it.”
“Gumi,” you frown at the boy. He doesn’t make eye contact with you; he looks forward now, gazing out the window and watching the fresh snow coat the ground. 
He was upset. 
“He could’ve at least taken me with him.”
For a moment, you see that same little boy you met over ten years ago and that same dejected look on his face after being let down one too many times. It breaks your heart. 
“If Satoru took the mission and went alone, I’m sure it’s for a good reason.”
He wants to say more but opts for something quick and sweet. “Yeah. Maybe.”
You have to do something. Quick. Anything to make him a bit happier. “I have a mission later in Osaka. I’ll be catching the 2 pm train. Wanna come? I could use the extra help.” 
He’s quiet for a moment, thinking, you presume, but he nods. “Yeah, sure. I don’t have anything else to do.” 
“Great! And just so you know, we’ll probably be dealing with a grade one or two.” 
He pauses momentarily before calmly asking, “And you need help with that?”
“Uh, yeah. Any help is much appreciated. Plus, I haven’t seen you much recently.” You smile brightly, and he turns his head, eyes finding the ground, looking a little bashful. 
“About that…” 
“Don’t worry about it,” you wave him off. “You’ve been busy with school, and I know that.”
“But that’s not–”
“It’s okay, Megumi,” you smile again, resisting the urge to reach across the table and gently squeeze his hand. “I get it.”
He gives you a look, a small disgruntled scowl. He wanted to say more.
“Alrighty then.” You stand, stretching from sitting in the chair. “I’ll buy you another hot chocolate for the road. We should probably start getting ready to leave.”
-
The mission goes well. An abandoned warehouse in Osaka conjured up a nasty looking grade three, but Megumi held his own just fine—like you expected. He’s grown much stronger and more sure of himself. You’re proud. Seeing how far he’s come certainly puts a smile on your face. He’s not a little boy anymore, you realized. He’s growing into a fine young man. 
Urg. Stop getting emotional. 
However, after stopping for a later dinner, you both arrived home late, around nine or so. 
“You did good tonight, Megumi,” you tell him for the nth time. 
He rolls his eyes, tucking his hands deep into his pockets. “You’ve told me that already.”
“I know, I know. It doesn’t change the fact that I’m proud of you. You’re getting so much stronger.”
Instead of brushing you off like all the other times, he sighs before offering a forced “thanks.” 
“Alrighty then. Try and get some sleep, okay? I’ll see you and the others sometime tomorrow, yeah?”
“Sounds good. Get back home safe.”
You nod, smiling. You make sure to watch him as he goes, making sure he gets inside before turning around. He’s capable of taking care of himself, but some habits never grow old. Making sure he gets inside anywhere safely has always been something you’ve prioritized, whether he was going to a friend's house, school, or boarding the train. 
You loved him like your own, but you knew he wasn't. After all, it was only a few months ago now that he reminded you that he wasn't yours.
You’re not my mom. 
It hurt—it still does—but you never held it against him. You still loved him nevertheless. Your relationship might have shifted but it doesn’t negate the fact that you care for him and would gladly give your life if it meant keeping him safe. 
Then, there was Kugisaki and Itadori—two others slowly weaseling their way into your heart. They’ve helped Megumi so much; he might be too proud to admit it, but they’ve helped him come out of his shell; they were his friends, and you knew they had each other backs. 
You sigh, a translucent cloud of white floating up and above your head. Just like always, your thoughts shift to blue eyes. Satoru. You’ve missed him today. No calls or obnoxious spam texts. It’s not unusual per se, especially when he gets busy. Regardless, you missed him.
But, something is bothering you. He wasn't communicating with you and he usually tells you these things. Even if he didn't have the time to tell you something right away, he'd eventually find a moment to talk to you. This time around, he didn’t. He didn't tell you he was leaving or about the whole ordeal with Megumi.
He just got up and left. You woke to a cold bed and an empty house. No text message, no note with a silly doodle. When you called him in the morning, it went right to voicemail. Eventually, when you pull up your shared text messages to check for anything new, you only saw the message you sent him from the day before. At a loss, you type out a quick message. You didn't think it would make things better, but at least it was something.
I hope you have a good day today :) 
It was all you could really muster up after last night. He seemed so agitated, and so fed up. You blamed it on stress; he isn’t usually like that. Usually, his touch was careful, calculated as if you were fixed of glass. You missed his lame jokes and mischievous grins when he was up to no good. You weren't offered any of that last night. Or the night before. Even the night before that. 
You’re starting to worry. 
He always bounces back so quickly. The only thing that typically gets him this mad are the higher-ups. Which, in Megumi's case, makes sense. You can see why Gojo would intervene if they gave him a dangerous mission. 
But why didn’t he take Megumi with him, at least?
Hm.. maybe it was beyond Megumi's skill set. Would the elders be stupid enough to set him up? They did it to you long ago, but they wouldn’t be bold enough to do it to the boy with the ten shadows technique, would they?
Or maybe Satoru… just doesn’t want to be near you?
Urg. You roll your eyes at your own selfish thoughts. Satoru wouldn’t do something like that. He’s already overworked as it is. Maybe you should make him something. A nice dinner? Or maybe he needed a pick-me-up? Kikufuku? You’re sure you could find the recipe online. 
You're torn, so you decide to make both. Maybe you'll even put on a nice dress. 
You decide to call him, and after a few rings, he answers. “Hey, honey,” you say sweetly, happy he even bothered to answer your call. "I was wondering when you’d be home tonight. I want to make you a nice dinner.”
He’s quiet again—too quiet. “Dinner? Tonight?” 
“Yeah, you’ve been so busy lately. I figured you’d like that.” 
He hums into the phone, sounding a bit lighter. “Dinner does sound nice…” 
Your smile widens. You could hear the underlying stress in his tone; it was flatter than usual, but at least he was trying. “... I’ll even put on your favorite dress?” 
He chuckles a bit. “Tempting, but I’ll probably have to leave after dinner.”
“Oh,” you murmur, wincing slightly at the rejection. Maybe you’ve gotten too spoiled—too accustomed to him pushing off his responsibilities all for the sake of spending a few more moments with you. Were you being too greedy?  “Are you okay? They’re not stretching you too thin, are they?”
He sighs in a carefree tone. “I'm doing fine. Same old thing, just a different day,” is all he offers, but you can tell he’s withholding. 
“I can help, y’know,” you offer gently. “If you have too many missions, I can take a few off your plate.”
“Nah,” he tells you a bit arrogantly. “It’s better if I handle it.”
Now you’re really starting to feel the distance. He usually reserves the softer parts of him for you. You suppose he just didn’t have the patience to do so right now. “You, uh, got into it with the higher-ups I heard,” you mention, trying to keep the conversation going but approaching from a different angle. “Megumi was telling me you even took his mission. I think he was a bit upset you didn’t take him with you. How come you never told me?”
“How come you never told me you were going to Osaka? Or the fact that you took him with you?”
Your stomach twists, unease bubbling in your chest. You didn’t like where this was heading. “I– it’s never bothered you before,” you manage, though your voice falters, dying down into nothing but a whisper. “And it’s not like you’ve been… wanting to speak to me recently. I haven't had the time to tell you much of anything," your trail off, your voice slowly fading before you begin again. "Did I do something to make you mad?”
The silence that follows is unbearable—longer than you ever imagined it could be. “Satoru… Please just talk to me.”
“I gotta go,” his tone is cold, clipped, and final. 
There’s a click as he hangs up, and the silence becomes deafening and threateningly absolute.
-
You realize you miss the way he used to look at you. Not the way he'd gaze at you, but in the way he would gaze into you, as though you were ever the only thing that ever really mattered.
After your last conversation with him, you were unsteady. You hated how you stayed in bed for hours, analyzing everything he's said to you recently, dissecting his every action. You hated how needy you suddenly felt, even while laying there, in his bed, in his clothes. He paused just a second too long before answering you now, as if he had to must up the courage and energy to do so. His laugh no longer came out easily. Others might miss it, but you never could. It was still rambunctious, taking up a whole room, but to you, it felt forced, brittle even. You've known Satoru at his best, and you've also known him at his worst.
When he looks at you now, you wonder if he's really seeing you. Painfully, you realize you haven't seen him; not without his eyeband on at least. Last night you did, for the first time in a while, but he seemed agitated.
The worst part was that you didn't know how to bring yourself to confront him. You struggled, unsure which pretty words and cadence would unluck the distance between you two.
Did something happen on one of his missions? Was he stressed? Had the higher-ups pushed him too far, testing his patience?
Or was it you? Was this somehow your fault?
Did you scare him away? Have you said too much, cared too deeply, loved too loudly?
You weren't sure, but you had to try something.
You were grateful you were cooking him dinner tonight on your day off. It was the least you could do, and you adored taking care of him. You choose hot pot, something you and Satoru have tried at home before. It took over a few hours to prepare, but it was worth it. You made two broths, you sliced up shabu-shabu and wagyu beef and even went to the extent of watching a video to make a dipping sauce. Unfortunately, you forgot one of the ingredients for the kikufuku mochi and didn’t want to risk making something he didn’t entirely like. Luckily, you had spare time to run down to the kikufuku store right before it closed. Of course, you grabbed all his favorite, two boxfuls, in fact. He was a big guy, so you hoped you had more than enough food for him to indulge.
You and Satoru were together. Though he never outright asked you to be his, you knew. It was an unspoken thing, and you were content with that. For as goofy and eccentric as that man could be, it was rather surprising how he was never outright with what he was actually feeling. 
He was damn good at showing it, though. In more ways than one. 
You feel it in the way he’d always reach for you after a nightmare. Shaking, needy hands tightly clasping at your waste, fearful of you disappearing and slipping to a place where he could not reach you. Don’t ever go where I can’t follow. Please. His face would nuzzle into your neck, sharply inhaling your scent. You’d hold him, whispering endless promises. I’m here. I’ll always be here. Or it's okay. Breathe, my love. I’m with you. 
You feel it on the nights he’d pin you beneath him, his grunts and moans echoing in your ears as he fills you so completely. He’d beg, no demand you—tell me you’re mine. Only mine. 
And, of course, you’d eagerly nod, overwhelmed with the pleasure only he could strum out of you so perfectly. ‘m yours. All of me—yours. 
You feel it in his protective gaze, his eagerness to hold you in the life vest of his arms. You felt it late into the night, damp bodies pressed against one another; low lighting, quiet laughter, and secrets revealed. His dreams, his wishes, his what ifs—the parts of him that no one knew or considered. Or when he handed you a silver key with a handsome and cheshire grin. What do you say? He was lovely, every bit of him, especially his gentle and selfless heart that you would never take for granted like the rest of the world seemed to. 
You feel it when he comes home from overseas and how his strong arms hold onto you just a bit longer, a bit tighter. You feel it with how he smiles into your neck or that one time at the airport when he lifted you up and spun you around, uncaring who saw. 
You feel it in the way that it was unspoken. You feel it in his cursed energy and how it perfectly intertwined with yours, reaching for you, comforting you when his hands could not. You especially feel it in the necklace he gifted you—the one your fingers were playing with now: a silver chain with cerulean sapphires, the same breathtaking shade of his eyes. His cursed energy, carefully imbued into the stones, was like carrying a piece of him with you—always, wherever you may go, and it rests directly above your beating heart. 
He might not voice it, but you feel it. He loved you. And you certainly loved him. 
So when had it become so hard to reach him? Why does he seem so intangible all of a sudden? Something deep and unsettling blooms in your stomach. 
And now that you think about it…
When was the last time you two did any of that? When was the last time his careful hands caressed you?
Only Satoru could make you this worried or make you feel this displaced. A sense of panic strikes you, and you pull out your phone to text him when you realize he’s thirty minutes late. Usually, that wouldn’t bother you, but–
After only three rings, you're sent to voicemail. When you check his location, he’s at the high school. Should you check on him? Or would that make him… mad?
He toru! Dinners ready. When do you think you’ll be home? Miss you. 
You bite your lip. He quickly read your message, but those three little bubbles never show up. 
Nothing. Just nothing. 
Maybe he’s staying up late writing the report for his latest mission? 
“eek!” Your phone pings, and after a round of hot potato, you see he’s texted you back. 
Only to be met with more disappointment. 
Dealing with something urgent. Don’t wait up. 
You frown, knowing you should drop it, but you can’t. 
Satoru…
He’s typing faster now. What?
You pause, thumbs hovering over letters you hesitate to type. What’s going on? You’ve been off lately. 
I’m fine. Just busy. 
Do you want me to bring you dinner to the High School?
Those three bubbles appear and disappear more times than you can count. No. I said don’t wait up. 
You know I don't sleep well without you.
He responds in a heartbeat. It wouldn’t be the first time. 
Your patience is wearing thin for the first time since this ordeal started. Are you saying you won’t be coming home tonight? 
You’re offered no response. He doesn’t even open your message. For the second night, you lay in a cold bed. Except, Satoru doesn’t come home. 
Only he could fracture you so completely. 
-
During your next mission, you brought the whole trio along. According to the report you were handed, you were only dealing with a grade three, but there was also an Infestation in the area. You could use the backup.
You had initially asked Megumi, but once Yuji caught wind, he was adamant that he tagged along, and, according to Nobora she had nothing else better to do. 
“Are you guys sure? It’s your day off.”
Yuji shrugs, both arms up, hands up and behind his head. “Yeah, I’m game.”
“Me too,” Nobora voices with a small glint in her eyes. “I got something new I want to try out anyway. We didn’t get to go on a mission last week as it is.”
You paused. "Huh? Gojo didn’t take you on any?”
“Nah,” Yuji shakes his head. “I think he’s been busy or something.” He looks at Kugisaki. “Hasn’t Gojo-Sensei seemed a little… off?”
Nobora nods. “Uh yeah. He hasn’t been himself at all. We figured you’d know something,” Nobora says, curious eyes scanning you. 
“Huh… I’m not sure. We haven’t gotten around to talking lately.”
Megumi hums, though it sounds more suspicious than his usual passive tone. 
Though they weren’t necessarily your students, you figured there was no harm in taking them. You've done it before and having them around was always like a breath of fresh air—reminding you of why Satoru dedicates himself so fully to his cause and being a teacher. They give you a reason to get stronger and keep fighting. You loved these kids and all their bickering. 
Except, this mission doesn’t go anything like you had expected. The report was wrong—a grade two was ambling through the abandoned schoolhouse. That was fine; the four of you were more than enough to kill it. The infestation was a bit overwhelming, but you had their backs, and they were nothing but pesky small curses lower than a grade four. 
Everything went well when the ambush happens. You all saw it: right in front of your eyes, a grade one emerging from the shadows, born into something nasty. It's skin oozed a sickly black slime that clung to its misshapen body. Its face—or lack there of—was dark and amorphous, split by a jagged maw that stretched impossibly wide, revealing rows of sharp serrated teeth, ready to cut and slash through flesh like a meat grinder. Other that is daunting appearance, the only other notable thing about it was its speed.
You told the kids to back down, but it was already too late. They were already involved, stuck in the heat of battle and fighting as a seamless unite. They were more than capable of standing on their own. 
But you needed them out of here. Your obligation was to protect them no matter how eager they were to help. However, before you could think of your next move, the curse made one last self-preserving attack. It opened in wide jaws, releasing several red beamed energy blast aimed directly at stone pillars. 
You had no time to think, only react. In an instant, you surged forward towards the trio, faster than their eyes could react. Grunting, you knocked them back, glass shattering as you kicked them through a window. You felt the impact ripple through your body, fully knowing you knocked the wind out of Megumi and Yuji. However, they recovered quickly, their instincts sharp enough to catch Nobora–
Right in time before the building collapsed. 
The building groaned like a wounded beast, its entire frame buckling from lack of support. Stone walls crumbled into clouds of dust and debris, windows shattered in explosive bursts, steel beams twisted and snaped with sickening shrieks. The ground trembled violently as the structure gave way, collapsing into a chaotic heap of concrete, rubble, and smoke, swallowing everything beneath. Including you.
You survived. Reinforcing your body with cursed energy made you strong enough to withstand the impact, and your heavenly restriction certainly helped. Nevertheless, you still took on quite a bit of damage from the tons of metal and concrete.
You woke up under the rubble with a startling gasp, choking on the dust. Were you out for a few seconds? Minutes? You were unsure, but the only thing pushing you to stand was the panic coated in Megumi’s voice. He was calling for you, and so were the others. You could hear the strain in their voices, the utter distraught. You healed your broken leg and the gash on the corner of your forehead, ceasing your gushing blood. You gathered yourself and your strength before pushing. They found you quickly after that, noticing a heap of rubble moving. They ran, rushing to help you push back concrete that threatened to suffocate you. You never did like tight spaces. 
Thankfully, you were alright. The kids were safe as well.
However, the curse had escaped. Megumi was visibly shaken, his fingernail cracked, bruised, and bleeding from digging urgently through the rubble to find you. 
Everyone was on edge. It wasn't their fault you didn't react quickly enough. You were more than capable; maybe that's why the failure stung so much.
You let yourself down. You let them down.
You were spiraling into a dark place quickly. The guilt threatened to swallow you whole. Gojo was still nowhere to be seen. You didn't have the strength to call him. You’re not sure what you could even say. You’ve fucked up before, but never to this extent. Not to where a whole building collapsed. 
“Good morning. A tragic incident occurred last night when an abandoned school collapsed around 7 pm. Authorities are currently investigating the cause, and preliminary reports suggest that the collapse could have been due to a structural weakness—one of the many reasons why the school was abandoned in the first place. We will continue to monitor the situation as more information becomes available–"
Megumi gently grabs your phone and locks your screen. Wordlessly, he shakes his head before pocketing your device. You’re too exhausted to ask for it back. 
“Are you sure you’re okay, Sensei?” Yuji's voice was soft, the first voice to break the ice. You look up from your hands, unsure how long you’ve been lost in thought. You force a small smile as you gaze at the three kids. You were sitting across from them in the waiting area outside the council room. 
“I’m alright. Are you guys?"
“We’re all fine,” Megumi cuts in quickly. “We’re– we’re more than okay.”
“That's good,” you trail off. “That's really good.”
Uncertainty hung dangerously in the air. What happened now? You were okay, but for how long? 
You knew you were in for a lashing with all the collateral damage you caused. It was supposed to be a simple mission. This wasn't supposed to happen. You four were fine, but did anyone else get hurt? 
You flinch at your own thought. You don't think you could live with yourself if innocent lives were lost.
“Sensei?” Yuji's soft, unsure voice cuts in once more. When your eyes make contact, he smiles brightly. You can tell it’s forced. “After this, wanna go get something to eat? There’s this great sandwich shop down the street!”
“Y–yeah!” Nobora sits up straight after being less than conspicuously nudged by Yuji. “It’s pretty good. We went the other day–”
The council room door creaked open. The higher-ups were waiting, shrouded in shadows and faces hidden. Even if you couldn't see them, the tension was palpable. Even without seeing them directly, you could sense their anger, smell it as it rolled off of them in a quiet, unspoken fury. You glance at the kids once more, this time with a gentle, reassuring smile curling at your lips. 
Everything would be okay.  
-
Everything was, in fact, not okay. 
The air was heavy as you entered your office. Your limbs ached, your head throbbed, and every breath felt like dragging glass through your lungs. You had thought the worst of it was over, and slowly, you felt your body begin to shut down, but only when there were no prying eyes to see how you compensated for your injuries. Even after using RCT, you had a limp—your bones were mended but not quite right. Your head was no longer bleeding—but still, you weren't quite right. 
You dismiss it as exhaustion; after all, you had just learned RCT not too long ago. Maybe you missed something. However, this wasn’t anything you couldn't handle on your own. You could see Shoko, but why bother her? You’ve endured far worse. Dealing with a sore body and a headache for the next few days wasn’t out of your jurisdiction. 
When you open the door, a flickering lamplight reveals a tall frame standing by your desk. Even before your eyes dance upon his sharp and still silhouette, the air shifts—your soul already knows he is there. Satoru.
But, his eyes never meet yours; you weren’t blessed enough to see them, a bright blue illuminating in the absence of light. His eyes were covered with a familiar dark cloth. However, you didn’t need to see them to know that the usual warmth they held as he gazed upon you was gone. In its place was a coldness that turned your stomach.
“Satoru–”
“I know,” he says, voice clipped as he turns to face you. “I read the reports.” Your heart sinks as he haphazardly tosses the report down to your desk. 
You’re exhausted, unsure of where to even begin. So many questions floated in your weary mind. Where were you? When did you get here? Please, don’t be mad at me. 
It’s funny how all your dignity, poise, and strength to endure are gone with him. You already took one berating from the elders, and you’re not sure you could handle another. 
Not from him. 
“But, I want to hear it from you.” He stepped closer, his height making him all the more domineering. “What happened out there? And how the hell are my students caught up in all of this?”
“The report was wrong. It was a grade two, not three, but we handled that just fine. We cleared out the area and completed the mission, but we were ambushed. A grade one appeared, destroyed the pillars, and–” You hesitate, unable to form the words. “Well, you know what happened.” He’s quiet, too quiet for your liking. “I–I did everything I could, Satoru. The students were fine, but the curse got away.”
“Everything you could?" His voice echoes. "I don’t need excuses. Certainly not from you. You endangered them—all of them. They’re not even your students!” He snapped, his voice rising in a way you’ve never heard before.
You bite back the lump forming in your throat. “I thought you, out of anyone, would understand the circumstances.”
“...Understand?” He utters back, a quiet fury rolling off him in waves. 
 “I made sure that–”
“You failed,” he snaps, voice laced with malice. “Enough. Just stop it. You were reckless and went behind my back, and you let a pathetic grade one get the best of you.”
Your chest tightened, crumbling at the weight of his tone. “Went behind your back? I did no such thing.”
“They could have been hurt because of you!” You visibly flinch, his words carrying more weight than the debris that had buried you—broken bones and all. 
“I’m recommending you be demoted to grade two.” 
What?
“You can’t do that. Satoru, you can’t–”
“I can,” he said coldly. “and I will. You failed, and not only did you fail, you went behind my back and involved my students. Your recklessness caused this,” disdain coats his voice, and he sucks his teeth. “I was gone for two fucking seconds, and you damn near ruined everything. People could have died. My students could have been injured. So stop being a nuisance and just do as you're told from here on out.”
No. 
No, no, no, no. 
You fought for years to get to grade one. A woman with a name of no renown—this society was never in favor of you; the system was set up for you only to fail time and time again. For years, you were held at grade three, then grade two, all because of your name’s sake—all because you were a woman. You didn’t have the luxury of being as good as other sorcerers; you had the burden to be better. 
Even now, at grade one, they continue to undermine you and undervalue you. You knew you didn’t have room to make mistakes, for they would tarnish every bit of good you have done. You thought Satoru understood that. You thought he viewed you as an equal, someone strong enough to stand by him. You thought he valued you, respected you. 
You never thought a mistake, a stupid mistake, would lead to this. 
It’s not fair. It’s not fucking fair. 
“This has nothing to do with my rank. You don’t believe me. You don't trust me. After everything–”
Hearing his scornful laugh, your vision begins to blur. “Don’t make this personal. You fucked up, and now I have to clean up your mess.”
Your ears begin ringing. The pounding in your head becomes too much and threatens to crack your skull open once more.
“But it is, isn’t it?” You whisper. How could it not be personal with how he's been treating you for days? “You haven't been able to look at me in weeks. You speak to me as if I’ve become nothing but a burden to you—a nuisance. What did I do to deserve this?”
He remains silent, the muscles in his jaw ticking as he grits his teeth. Point proven.
Your heart painfully twists with each beat. “Do you even… care about me anymore?” You’re not sure why you say it, why the words slip past your lips, but they do.
He read the report and he hadn't even asked if you were okay. Maybe it was a selfish thought, but it makes your chest ache. You just wanted to go home, crawl in bed and hold him. However, you knew that wasn't in the cards right now.
“Don’t twist this into something it’s not.”
Your voice finally wavers before him, cracking as you press on, desperate for him to understand—desperate to have him by your side as he has been for so many years.
“You’re casting me aside like I’m... worthless."
It was cruelty, a quiet and deafening insult for him to demote you of your status—but more specifically, your place beside him. That hurt runs deep, to the point that feelings of betrayal start seeping into your veins, poisoning you, antagonizing you. Belittling you. It was a sharp dagger you never expected—searing with a hatred that threatened to cripple you. This wasn’t just about your position. He was a man of unchallenged stature, of the highest status and regard, lowering you, demeaning you with his every word, every action. 
When did things go so wrong?
Yet, even now, you question yourself. Were you being dramatic? Were you taking this too personally? Were you being selfish?
Because he was right. Every word he's said so far was right. You failed. You put them in danger.
You stand there, a hollow feeling growing in your chest. The sting of Satoru’s words cut deeper than any blade you’ve faced. His jaw tightened, his gaze hard as steel and cold as ice. “You gave me what I never asked for.”
“Don't you dare!” You snap, finger trembling as you point his way with an accusatory jab. “Don’t you dare pretend this is nothing.  You know me better than anyone. How could I not take this personally? I’ve done nothing but stand by you, love you, trust you–”
“Like I said, I never asked for any of that,” he utters sharply, his carefully composed exterior shattering. “Whatever we were was nothing more than fucking convenience.” 
Suddenly, he stops, freezing at the onslaught of his own lethal words. His next words seemed to die in his throat. The damage was done. 
Exhausted, defeated, numb. His words hit you like a death blow. “... Convenience?” Echoing the very word that came from his lips—a sound you hardly recognize comes from your mouth, a small slip of the anguish tormenting and swelling in your body escapes. 
The necklace around your neck, the very one he had given you, seemed to pulse against your skin, warm and alive. It carried a piece of him, a piece of you, a guiding hand in the absence of light: a thread, an anchor—a way home. 
Suddenly, you hated it. Hated the way it sat so close to your heart, hated the warmth, his energy; you hated that, even now, his words cutting so deep, unraveling the fabric of your being, it comforted you, reaching for you. 
You yanked it off, the chain snapping in two as you held it in your trembling hands. 
He falters, his whole being frozen. “What are you doing?” he asked, quiet and tense, blanketed in uncertainty. 
“I don’t want it,” you say, voice quivering, threatening to fail you at any moment. His energy—the only energy that blended so perfectly with yours—reached for you, and so did his trembling hands. Reflexively, you flinched away, retreating further into the room and further from him. “Don’t,” you shake your head. “Don’t touch me. Not with your hands, not with your energy. Don’t.”
Silent tears stream down your face. You are unable to look at him, and your breathing is shallow and unsteady. You open your hand, letting the necklace drop to the floor. The faint sound of metal hitting wood echoes in the suffocating silence of the room. 
There’s a soft knock on the door. It creaks, slightly opening. “... Y/n sensei?” came an unsure voice.
You stiffen, and suddenly, you can sense them, three nervous students standing outside your door. Too caught up with Satoru, you had entirely missed them. You clear your throat and dry your cheeks with the back of your hand before turning to the door. You walk over, opening the door wide enough to see them. 
“Sorry if we’re interrupting, but we just wanted to know if you still wanted to come out for dinner with us...” 
Fuck. How much did they hear?
You take a breath, and it’s shakier than you anticipated. “Yeah, sure. That sounds nice. Let me grab my jacket, okay.”
Yuji only offers an unsure smile. Norbora has a hard time even looking at you, while Megumis's eyes are solid and unyielding, glaring right past you. His hands were in his pockets, balled into tight fists.
You don’t know what to do other than quickly turning. Within a few ushered strides, you were at your desk, grabbing your coat off your desk chair; you’re careful to avoid Gojo, who manages to plaster on that big fucking grin. 
“Heard you guys were up to no good while I was away.”
“We were fine,” Megumi interjects before Yuji could open his mouth. “More than fine.” 
“Y–yeah, everything ended up being just fine. Y/n-sensei made sure of that,” Nobora awkwardly adds, shifting her weight on her feet. 
“Ah,” Gojo nods. “Well, make sure you get some rest tonight. We’ve got a long day tomorrow! You guys will be training with the second years!” 
You hated how he could act as if everything was alright while you were fighting back tears. It was another jab, a suckerpunch to the gut. 
You just needed to get out of there. 
-
After dinner with the kids, you headed out on your own the following day. You went home, stuffing some clothes in a bag before spending the night at a cheap motel. Before getting with Satoru, you always floated from place to place, never truly settling. Those days, all you carried on you was your backpack. You didn’t have a home or many possessions you could call your own. You just had yourself.  
I guess old habits die hard. 
Megumi was the first to text you: I went to Gojo's house today and didn’t see you. 
All good! I’ve been busy running errands.
Nobora text you sometime after.
Hey Sensei!! Let me know if you’re available today! Let’s go shopping!
You responded rather quickly. Sorry, I’m not around today. Maybe ask Maki? Or maybe Yuji and Megumi would like to tag along.
But guys suck :(
Then, there was Yuji: Hey, Sensei! Let me know if you want ramen! The gang and I got you since you covered for us the other night! I even got coupons! 
You weren’t sure what to say. You always covered for their meals (no exceptions), but you knew they were just trying to be kind. You double-tapped and hearted the message. 
You appreciated them more than anything, but frankly, it was a bit embarrassing. You never meant for them to overhear you and Satrou that night in your office, and you were never one for pity. If it were anyone else, you would have called them out and told them off. However, you wouldn’t dream of doing that to the kids. They were trying to support you in the only way they knew how, but it wasn’t their responsibility to worry about you. 
Surprisingly, Shoko was the next person to contact you. You never stopped by my office. I’m assuming you’re alright?  
Smiling gently, you responded. Yeah, no injuries to report. 
A building collapsed on you.
You scoff, imagining her deadpan expression. Heavenly restriction, remember?
That doesn’t mean you can’t get hurt. 
Your thumbs hover over the keyboard. Yeesh. Just meet me at the bar you like downtown. 
That’s where you are now, Shoko’s favorite bar, tossing back your third shot. ”Take it easy. I don’t feel like dragging you home tonight.”
“Ah. I’m alright, Shoko.”
“You don’t look it.” 
“Neither do you with those bags under your eyes.”
She brings her drink to her lips, mumbling “touché” before taking a swig. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Vivid memories pressed to the front of your mind of the building collapsing. “Satoru is demoting me. After the elders ripped into me, I found him waiting for me in my office.”
“He– what? Jeez,” she took another sip of sake. “Out of everything, I didn’t expect that.” 
“I– we haven’t been doing too good. I’m not sure if there even is an us after last night.”
“Huh. He did seem a little out of it today.”
“Somehow, I kinda doubt that.” There’s a beat of silence, and you swirl the liquid in your cup. 
“If it means anything, he asked me about you. Asked if you were alright.” 
You smile a bit sardonically.  If Satoru really wanted to find you, you knew he could, as he had the means to do so. From here, you were only about five miles away from his estate. It’s not like you were too for his eyes to see.  Suddenly, that thought bothers you, and you find yourself almost subconsciously concealing your cursed energy.  
“Is that why you texted me?”
She gives you a weird look. “Partially. I had my own concerns.” 
“Like what?”
“If I’m being honest with you, you’re not great at RCT. I wanted to check and make sure everything was alright. It eventually catches up with you if you don’t do it correctly. I’ve seen it cause irreparable damage before.”  
“Ah. I guess that makes sense.”
“You should come to my office tomorrow so I can check–”
“I think I’m gonna quit.”
“…what?”
“I mean, that’s what they really want, right?”
“If you do that, they’ll find the easiest excuse to label you as a traitor. A cursed user.”
“Don’t you think I know that? Since day one, they’ve been trying to paint me as a villain.” 
“So don’t give them what they want,” Shoko bites back. She pinches the bridge of her nose with her thumb and index finger. “Listen, I can’t stop you. You are going to do what you want to do at the end of the day, but you don’t need to do this. You made a mistake.”
“I’m just tired,” you tell her truthfully. “For months, I’ve been pretending, going through the motions. I've been miserable. Megumi hasn’t wanted me around much. He’s older now, and he doesn’t need me anymore–”
“Of course he does,” Shoko cuts you off. “He’s still a kid.”
“And I’m not his mother,” you retort bitterly. “Then, there’s Satoru. He’s been so distant.  He used to always be in my corner and make everything better, but I don’t even have that now. Now, all of the jujutsu society thinks I’m a liability. He thinks I’m a liability. Maybe it’s why he’s grown to resent me so much.”
“Please. Just stop talking,” Shoko remarks, overwhelmed with how quickly you were talking. She wasn’t necessarily a fan of conversations like these, but at least she listened. “I’m here if you ever need anyone. And please, don’t let this fester. I would rather not lose another friend.” She takes a large gulp this time, finishing her drink before gesturing for a refill. “Tsk. Satoru is complicated—I get it—but he wouldn’t want you to leave. Neither would Megumi. That kid loves you. Maybe you and Gojo just need a break.”
A break? Ha. That was one way of putting it. However, it already felt much more like a breakup, and its permanence frightened you. Like many other things in your relationship, it was never voiced but certainly felt. 
“Yeah,” you say softly, body buzzing as you down your fourth shot. “Maybe you’re right.”
-
You start walking home after having drinks with Shoko. It was a long walk, and you took your time. You weren’t in a rush to head home to potential chaos. The thought of staying at a hotel crossed your mind, but you had nothing to change into. Frankly, it didn’t matter where you went either. It’s not like you’d be able to sleep any better. 
Though, it’s not like you were going back home to anything good. You were suspended without pay; you couldn’t go near the school grounds or exercise any curses—a stipulation you rolled your eyes at. If they thought just a few measly words would stop you from exercising a curse, they would be more idiotic than you thought. 
Still, maybe it’s good to take some time off. Maybe you should stay at the hotel. If you were lucky, they’d have a washer and dryer. 
Then, your phone starts to ring—a unique ringtone that a white-haired idiot assigned to his contact one day after you let him “borrow” your phone. He even changed his contact photo; years later, you never had the heart to change it. 
Your heart aches when you see the contact photo of him, his goofy smile and gorgeous eyes peeking over his black shades. You answered hesitantly after a few rings. 
“Hello?”
“Heyyy,” you hear, his voice light and cheery yet, lacking its usual spark. “Where are you? I know I missed dinner the other night so I picked up your favorite on my way home!” 
Back to normal? Just like that?
You take a breath, reeling in your emotions. It wasn’t normal, per se, but you could tell he was trying, stepping cautiously over the ice he knew could shatter at any moment. 
“I’m not home, right now.”
“Huuuh?” You can hear the slight whine in his voice, and you can imagine him pouting like a small child. You expect him to carry on with his theatrics, but he hesitates. “When do you think you’ll be home then?”
“Uh, I don’t really know,” you trail off, unable to keep up his faux mirth and bravado. 
 “Well, if you don’t want to sleep next to me tonight, I can just take the guest bedroom!” For a moment, he sounds hopeful.
Honestly, he’s just making your head spin. 
“Honestly, I think it’s best if I stay out of the house for a little while, Gojo.”
There’s a beat of silence before you hear his nervous laughter. “Gojo?” he remarks dejectedly. “Can’t remember the last time you called me that.”
You were unsure what to say; you hadn’t even realized you initially referred to him by his last name until he pointed it out. You want to tell him sorry—for everything, but your tongue tenses in your mouth, and your throat threatens to close up. You hated it when he got like this, and typically, you’d do anything to make him smile again. 
But you’re hurt, and he caused that hurt. 
“I wanted to talk to you about the other day,” he adds quickly, unable to withstand your silence. 
“What’s there to talk about?” You ask softly. “What done is done. I messed up.”
He’s quiet for a moment. “You’re right. It can’t be undone now. But that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about.”
Your stomach drops your heart twists and aches. Was he going to officially end things with you? A bitter, more cruel half of you whispers—you weren’t even officially together to begin with. However, none of that even matters; he has too much of you, too many pieces of your frail heart in the palm of his hands. You were irrevocably his, but was he ever yours? 
Just a few weeks ago, you thought you would have an entirely different answer than the one you have now. You're too afraid to face him or the truth. You were guilt-ridden, your pride and dignity torn to shreds. Hearing that he no longer wishes to be with you would be too much. 
Honestly? 
You’re not sure how you’d react. If you’d sob, if you’d remain stoic, or if you’d flip a table and trash every one of your possessions. You’re at wit's end, and the level of fallout threatening to break free from you was immeasurable. 
So, you finalize what you had been contemplating just five minutes ago. “I think I’m going to stay at a hotel, Gojo. I need space. Time to think.” 
“I don’t want us to go to bed mad at each other,” he says lowly, his voice reverberating through the phone. You shiver. “It doesn’t feel right.”
You hated this. You fucking hated this. 
Your chest tightens, and your knees weaken. You wanted to give in. He always had that power over you. He ruled your heart so effortlessly. You yearned for him, your heart singing a million love songs, beckoning him back to you. 
But you couldn’t. You were too mad. You felt cast aside as if you were nothing but an afterthought—after all these years. Yet again, you feel the foundation of your home cracking, and your knees go weak yet again. You take a shuddering breath right before repeating the exact words he threw at you just a few nights prior—words that so effortlessly dismantled your spirit. “It wouldn’t be the first time.”
-   
You’ve always had a habit of running. It was easier for you than most. You figured you’d go back to that cheap motel in Tokyo, but you were too restless. Too angry. Feelings of betrayal ran deep, and the guilt nipped away at you until there was only a void. 
Before you could leave, though, you call a number you knew by heart. Stepping onto the train and holding your phone to your ear, it rings. For a moment, you assume he’s asleep. It was getting late, but after the fifth ring, the line clicked. A groggy voice peaks through. 
“Sensei? What’s going on?”
“Megumi,” you breathe out. “Hi. Sorry to wake you.”
“It’s fine.”
“Nozomi 1, departing from Tokyo and heading to Kyoto, will depart shortly. Please be careful of your footing while boarding. Please refrain from using mobile phone inside the train–“
“You’re leaving?” The tiredness in his voice is replaced by something else you can’t quite place. 
“Only for a short while. It’s not like I’ll be working anytime soon,” you chuckled nervously. “But I just wanted to let you know. It didn’t feel right leaving without speaking to you first.” 
“Oh,” is all he can muster up at first. “I– when will you be back?”
“I’m not sure,” you answer him honestly. “A few days, maybe.” 
“Well… Can we visit you? I’d go alone, but I think Yuji and Nobora would kill me if I did.” 
Oh. You hadn’t expected that. You close your eyes, taking a deep breath. “Um, yeah. When I figure out where I’m staying, I’ll let you know.”
He sounds worried. “You don’t know where you’re staying yet?”
You snicker. “Ha, this is, uh, kinda an impromptu thing.” 
“… and you’re sure alright?”
“Yes, yes, I’m alright. I just wanted to tell you.”
You can tell he’s not exactly satisfied, but he isn’t one to stop you. “Well, text me where you’ll be staying in a few hours. You should probably hang up now, though, and figure it out.”
You smile softly to yourself. He always was a kind boy—kinder than he’d ever reveal. “Yeah, that sounds like a good idea. Goodnight, Megumi.”
“Night.. I’ll call you later. Be safe.”
When you hang up, you feel a bit better. 
The first night was hard—really hard. Sleeping away from Satoru was incredibly difficult, but so were his sharp words that relentlessly bounced around in your mind.  You found no peace by your window, watching the last of that day's sunlight slipping away behind the horizon, casting long shadows over the dead trees covered in snow.
You could almost feel his presence, like the cast of your shadow on a wall—following you, mirroring your every move. Your phone never rang with his ringtone, your phone never buzzed with a new text. Yet you stared at the shadows for a bit longer, a bit more intensely, waiting for two blue eyes to illuminate the space. They never did. 
Kyoto's stillness seemed to reflect your own, waiting for something to change, waiting for something dead and wilted to bloom once more. 
However, even all the way over in Kyoto, bad luck seems to follow you like the plague. You were walking to a small corner market to grab something to eat when you felt the disturbance in the air—tasted it on your tongue. You hoped that surge of cursed energy wasn’t what you thought it was. You would have loved to be proven wrong, but your instincts were keen like a hound trained to hunt. 
A curse womb opened right above a Kyoto High school. 
You were definitely getting fired after this. 
You knew a cursed object was most likely responsible for this. Considering it happened at a school, you were more than willing to bet a strong cursed object was placed there, most likely intended to ward off any other strong curses that might otherwise appear in the area. You assumed the seal broke, probably after hundreds of years of suppressing the power of the object. You’ve dealt with a case like that before.
You couldn’t have been more wrong. 
Three stupid students—ghost hunting of all things—removed the seal. The decorated white cloth tightly wrapped around a black skull was torn, and its viscous cursed energy soared, tinting the sky black. 
“Oh, you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” you hissed under your breath when you slammed open the classroom door. “This way, c’mon!” You didn’t have to tell them twice. Book it, and you stay by their side for as long as you can. You had to put up your veil, but only after they were far enough. 
You got impatient, however, especially towards the kid who had been recording everything up until now, where you crushed his phone in your hand. 
“Wha– hey! You're gonna pay for that!”
“What the hell is more important? Recording or your fucking lives? Shut up and run!” 
The air suddenly cracks with a tension that makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. It’s here. You could feel it—the dark, oppressive presence creeping across the courtyard, lurking. You yourself could see it with your eyes, but you felt it. 
Your senses were better than most. It was partially why you and Yuji got along and trained together so well. You were just like him when you were younger. Granted, he wasn’t born with cursed energy like you were, but your heavenly restrictions were nearly identical. 
You stop running when you reach the edge of the courtyard, but those three kids carry on in a scram. Holding the cursed object in your hands, you raise the skull in the air. It takes a considerable amount of force, but you crush the skull, black dust coating your hand. There’s a hollow screech, and you hope that’s the end of it. 
Of course, your bad luck persists. 
Typically, destroying the cursed object that’s created a cursed womb kills it or at least nullifies it. The exception is when the curse is an S-grade; those wombs are damn near impenetrable. 
Destroying the object seemed only to irritate the curse as it began crawling out of a bloody sac. 
You hold up your fist, index, and pointer finger together, pointing to the sky along with your thumb. A crimson veil pours down, covering the entirety of the school. However, you sense three others within your veil just as you seal off the area. 
“Yo, Y/n sensei!! What the hell are you doing here, loca!” A deep laugh echoes across the courtyard. 
Christ. You knew that voice from anywhere. 
You glance over your shoulder and see a few unexpected faces. Utahime and two other students—Miwa and Todo who looks way happier than he should be, considering the circumstances. 
The newly born curse loomed menacingly overhead, its red eyes gleaming like coals in a dying fire. It was tall, with protruding joints that snapped into place. Its black and sleek hair extended beyond its long, contorted body. Its face was painted white and cracked as if crafted of aged porcelain. Its kimono was white, stained with splashes of red and black goo. You stood firmly in place, fire crackling at your fingertips, your breath steady but sharp in the cold night air. Todo and Miwa joined your side quickly, and Utahime offered you a firm nod from the sidelines. She was entrusting you with her students.  
Quickly, the courtyard became a battlefield, filled with the crackle of burning energy and the hum of raw power. 
The curse lunged, zipping through the air. You were faster, your body twisting and moving with fluid grace. You raised your hand to strike, a jet of flame bursting forward, crackling against the air. The curse shrieked as the fire seared its back, black smoke rising from its melted skin. 
It recovered too quickly for your liking. It rolled through the flames like water through a sieve, reforming and lunging again, its claws gleaming.
Your senses were on fire—every shift in the air, every sound, every movement was magnified. You could hear the heartbeat of the curse, the faintest tremor of its form as it coiled to strike. You could smell the thick, sour scent of decay that clung to it like an ancient smog. And you could feel it—the deep, heavy weight of power pressing down on you, making your muscles tighten and strain against the oncoming attack.
The curse moved to strike again, but you were already there, rolling beneath it, body twisting in a perfect arc, and feet hitting the ground in a spring-loaded motion that sent you leaping upward. Your fist, wreathed in fire, crashed into the creature’s chest.
The explosion of heat sent the curse reeling, but it was only a momentary distraction. It retaliated, slashing the air with a massive, clawed hand. Three energized strikes were headed your way. You reacted with seconds to spare, but Miwa stood directly in the line of fire. You knew her simple domain wouldn’t be summoned fast enough, but she didn’t. It would be a miscalculation that ended her life. 
The claws tore through your side, then whipped down in a sickening arc, ripping clean through your arm. The pain came in an instant—a blinding, searing agony that burned through your body. You didn't even have time to scream.
You staggered back, a cry escaping Miwa’s lips as she looked at the bloody stump where your arm used to be. Blood poured and squirted from the wound, but there was no time for that. 
"Get back!" you shouted to the blue-haired girl, voice raw. She wasn’t nearly ready for this; Utahime gravity overestimated her abilities or underestimated the cursed strength. Regardless, the girl was too distraught to do anything at this moment. 
There’s a rush, and you suddenly realize you are outside the heat of battle. Todo went in, guns blazing, but you could only waste so much time. Todo was strong, way above his current ranking, in your opinion, but it was only a matter of time before that curse cut him down, too. 
Without a second thought, you dropped to your knees. The pain was overwhelming, but you focused, drawing from the reserves settled deep within your core. Your energy surged, and tendrils of fire spiraled around the wound, filling the air with intense heat. 
“Sensei! Are you alri–" Miwa gasped, her feet coming to a haunt as she watched in awe and terror as your arm began to regenerate—pulsing with energy. The flesh knitted itself together, bone and sinew reforming in a frenzy. 
But the process wasn't easy and certainly didn’t come without a price to pay. Your body screamed, the regeneration draining your reserves. You were already weakened, and the battle had just begun. Tsk. 
Todo found his way back over to you two, panting heavily. “How are you doing over there, Sensei?”
"Clap," you say, voice strained. "Now." He looked at you, bug-eyed, but he nodded. He didn't hesitate. 
He brought his hands together in a sharp clap, and everything shifted. “Alright! Let’s dance!”
In an instant, you found yourself on the other side of the curse. You inhaled deeply, heart pounding, immediately launching yourself back into the fight.
The curse roared in confusion, disoriented, but it was too late. You were already in motion. Your feet hit the ground in a fluid motion, and with a vicious snap of your wrist, fire erupted once again. This time, it formed into a massive whip of flame that lashed through the air.
The curse hissed as the whip wrapped around its neck, and you pulled with your whole body. Never losing your grip, muscles straining, you move forward, wrapping the flames over your arm again and again, pulling tighter and tighter until you smelt the pungent odor of the burning flesh around its neck. You wrapped the whip around your arm one last time before turning your body and pulling the whip from over your shoulder, viscously yanking and slamming the curse to the ground and into submission. 
The curse struggled, its body writhing, but it was weakened. Miwa went for the opening, summoning her New Shadow Style: Simple domain. She’s gotten better since the tournament, and you acknowledge with a grave chuckle as she instantly draws her blade, slicing the curse directly across its chest cavity. She cost you an arm, but deep down, you knew she had the conviction to win and succeed. 
Todo doesn’t wait. Another clap. Another shift. You and Todo swapped places with the curse itself this time, and the curse had no time to react. He goes for a punch, cracking the curse with a quick jab, followed by a right hook. He claps again. The moment the curse materialized in front of you, disoriented, you surged forward, throwing everything you had left into one final strike.
It twisted in anguish, its body crumbling to the ground before its remains turned into ash.
Then, there was nothing.
The air grew still. The ground beneath you is scorched but calm. You sucked your teeth, silently berating yourself. 
You hated using your technique. Frankly, you opted not to unless you absolutely needed to, which was the main reason why people hardly knew about it. It wreaked havoc, leaving nothing but indomitable infernos that refused to be quenched like normal flames. They left nothing destruction in their wake—hungry to consume and spread. However, you’ve gotten better at controlling it—you’ll give yourself that. The only thing burned here today was the grass in the courtyard. 
You stood there for a moment, panting, your body trembling with exhaustion as you collapsed to the ground, panting heavily. “Y–you did it!” Miwa cheered. “I had no idea you knew RCT. Thank you for helping me back there.”
“What the– Miwa, we won! Show some conviction!” Todo cut in, flexing his biceps. 
“He’s right,” you managed a weak smile as you worked on catching your breath and easing your fast-beating heart. You collapse to the ground, still gaining your breath. "We did it."
You hear footsteps approaching from behind. Tilting your head, you see Utahime standing directly above you. 
“Oh. Hi ‘hime.” 
She smiles a bit, but her face remains hardened. You straighten up a bit, catching on to her attitude. Something wasn’t right. 
“You guys did a good job. However, another problem has arisen across the city.” 
“Huh? Another one?” Miwa asked, brows tugging inward. She shifts her weight from one hip to the other. “That's like the fifth one today...”
They continue on in their conversation as you drop your veil, sniff the air, and concentrate on your surroundings. A sense of foreboding strikes you under the dark ambiance of the sky. Even after killing that S-grade, things don’t feel right. 
“Thanks for joining us,” Utahime says, drawing back your attention. “I nearly had to call for backup.”
You scoff, glancing up at her from the ground. “Something doesn't feel right, Utahime.” She nods, agreeing with your observation. “When did the reports come flooding in?”
“About an hour ago now.”
“Hm,” you wonder, thinking back to when you first found the cursed womb. “That’s about the same time I first sensed the presence of the cursed womb. They’re most likely connected.”
“That's what I thought. The presence of the cursed womb must have irritated some of the curses in the city, most likely because they were drawn to the energy fluctuations the cursed womb caused. It's good you were here. We're stretched thin right now. If you don’t mind staying, we could use your help. The other students are out on missions across the city, and things just keep getting worse.” 
You smile up at her before pushing yourself back up on your two feet, brushing the dirt from your pants. “Sure, let’s get going–” but as you stand, it feels as if a bolt of lightning strikes you down or as if your chest has been cracked open by a sledgehammer. The agony was too great to even scream as you fell to your knees and crashed back into the ground. 
It was lights out. 
-
It was quiet. Dark—a vast, unending expanse of nothingness that swallowed you whole. An endless drift. It would have almost been peaceful if not for the faint pull at the edges of your awareness, like an anchor trying to tether to something you couldn’t see. 
But then came the first sound. 
You heard voices—muffled cries. Please wake up, said one voice. Please stay with me, came another. 
Pain began to throb somewhere in the background, dull and distant. Disembodied as if it belonged to someone else. 
Don’t you dare leave me. The voice was sharp, demanding, cracking under the weight of fear. You knew that voice and remembered all the sweet things it used to whisper to you. Your heart takes a painful lurch. You can hear its occasional beat in your ears. We need you. I need you. 
Oddly, you were cold.
You were drifting again, further and further. The anchor was slipping. You were sinking, your head hardly above water, when another muffled voice broke through—whimpering, sobbing. Your heart lurches painfully.
Mom, please don’t go.
The words pierce through the nothingness, shattering it all to bits and pieces. The words pull at you, a lifeline you hadn’t known you clung to and needed. Images begin to flash, and suddenly, the voices are no longer just voices. Your heart suddenly burns as though the memory of life itself is fighting its way back into you. 
Your eyelids were heavy, limbs weak, unresponsive—cold. You were so cold, but it wasn’t enough to stop you from crawling out of a black pit that threatened to swallow you whole. There’s a faint sensation of pressure, a hand tightly gripping yours. 
Light begins bleeding into the edges of your awareness. You sucked in a deep breath, lungs empty and greedy. 
Then, your eyes fluttered open.  
You blinked a few times, realizing how hard it was to breathe. Breathing was supposed to be an automatic response, but you had to force it, each breath dragging along the back of your throat like sandpaper. You’re weak and shivering as you use most of your energy to sit up. You were in an empty room, you realized—the sharp smell of sanitizer permeating your nose. 
You push yourself out of bed, knees buckling under your weight. You catch yourself, gathering whatever bits of strength you have left. Your teeth clattered. You were freezing. Shaking, you wrapped the white blanket over your shoulders, gripping it tight before you trudged towards the door.
The hall was mostly empty, all except for a sleeping boy slouched over in a chair beside your door. Your heart squeezes. 
“Megumi,” you whispered his name. You stare at him for a moment, unable to bite back the tears that nip at your dry eyes. 
You wrapped the blanket around him, tucking it gently around him. However, he flinches, jumping straight up in his chair. “S-Sorry,” you tell him quickly with a watery smile. “You looked cold.” 
“You…” the word was a raw and weak whisper. His eyes widened. It took a moment for recognition to settle in, but once it did, he spoke again. “You’re awake.” He stood up from his chair, and you stepped back, offering him space. “You’re awake,” he repeated again. 
Then, you start to wonder just how long you’ve been out of it. Days? Weeks? The thought of months terrifies you, but before you can even go down that loophole, he’s hugging you tightly. “You’re awake,” he says once more, his voice breaking. 
However long it was, he’s right. You’re awake. You’re here, living and breathing. You wrap your arms around his torso, patting and rubbing his back soothingly. “Yup… I’m here. I’m awake.” 
You let him be the one to pull away, letting him take however long he needs. You enjoyed it regardless. You couldn’t remember the last time you hugged him. 
When he pulls away, his eyes are red. He sniffs a bit, backing up and taking the blanket off his shoulders. This time, he’s the one wrapping the fabric around you. He’s frowning a bit as he does. “... you’re the one that’s cold,” he notes quietly. 
“What happened?”
“You don’t remember?” He asks softly, brows furrowing. 
You shook your head. No. Frankly, you didn’t remember much of anything right now. “I was on my way with Yuji and Nobora. We got on the train after you let me know where you were staying.” That’s right. You texted Megumi when you figured out where you’d be staying. You thought they’d come over sometime in the following days. You had no idea they were rushing to see you on the next available train. 
He places his hands awkwardly on your shoulder before gently guiding you to the chair he was sitting in moments ago. As you go to sit, your body seems to forget how to move for a moment, and you lose your balance. He catches you quickly, carefully helping you down into the chair. “When we got to Kyoto, we realized quickly how bad things were over there.   We started helping out at the Kyoto school, dealing with the curses that had been lingering in the area where the cursed womb opened up. Eventually, we ran into Todo and Miwa. They told us what happened.” He grunts, kneeling down so he’s at eye level with you. 
You’re silent for a moment. “How long was I out for?”
“Pushing four days now.” 
The memories strike you like a fright train. “Are you okay? Is everyone alright?” You hadn’t realized you had reached for his cheek. 
He grabs your wrist, thumb gently caressing the back of your hand before pulling your hand away, guiding it back to your lap. He moves the blanket until it's covering you again.  “We’re all fine. Everything’s been dealt with. Yuji and Nobora went down to the cafe to grab some lunch. They’ll be thrilled when they come back.”
You tilt your head. “Why didn’t you go with them?”
He smiles a bit. “I didn’t want to leave you unattended.”
You don’t know what to think. You’re just happy you’re back. Happy because he was happy. You always hated it when he worried about you. You never believed it was his job to do so. However, he stayed by your side and protected you when you couldn’t protect yourself. 
You wiggle your toes and roll your shoulders before standing again. “You shouldn’t be standing–”
“I’m alright, I promise,” you tell him, dismissing his concern. “I just want to walk around, okay?”
He stares at you intently, unsure, but he seems to have no energy to argue with you. “... alright,” he relents. 
He follows you closely as you drag your feet across the floor. You don’t know where you are walking, but you want to stretch your legs and regain a sense of your body. You are weak, but you need to move. 
You ask the question you were too hesitant to ask: “What about Gojo?”
He huffs. “He left a little while ago. Said he’d be back shortly,” he scoffs. “Bullshit if you ask me.”
“Megumi,” you sigh his name with a soft reprimand. 
“He should be here,” he responds disgruntledly. “He should be by your side, and he’s not."
You stay quiet. You’re not exactly sure what to say to him when you agree. Maybe Gojo was done. Whatever this was, whatever relationship you had—maybe he didn’t want you anymore. You look ahead, fighting your own body that threatened to collapse at any moment. You could feel Megumi’s eyes on you, but you didn’t have the heart to look at him right now.
You were afraid you would sob if you did. 
Though you had never walked these halls before, the hospital's layout was quite easy to catch on to. After taking a fourth right turn, you see your room in the distance. A stubborn part of you says to keep going and keep walking, but the exhaustion is catching up to you quickly. If Megumi hadn’t been by your side, cautious eyes scanning you, you might have kept going until you passed out. You realize that the strength you had was nearly depleted. Only trickles of your cursed energy remained, and it would be a long while before you gained it back. 
You hear footsteps behind you. Quick and ushered. Megumi turns before you, his whole frame tensing.  He sucks his teeth and clicks his tongue. “So he finally shows up.” He speaks in a sardonic tone, loud enough for anyone in the hallways to hear.
Satoru comes running from around the corner then, taking deep breaths. Your brows slightly pinch together in confusion. “S–Satoru,” you stutter, walking closer. “When did you get here?”  He looks disheveled. Alarmed. Was he just running? 
It was hard trying to figure out what he was feeling or experiencing when that black eyeband covered his eyes. However, you noticed the bouquet in his hands, a delicate combination of soft and tender hues: pale pink and roses, white peonies, deep pink lilies, and baby’s breath delicately wrapped along sprigs of greenery. 
You place a hand on Megumi’s shoulder. “Why don’t you go eat with the others?”
“But–”
“I’ll be alright,” you explain to him in a soft tone.
He hesitates, torn between staying and leaving.  He was unsure if he should leave you to handle this alone, but after a moment, he backed down, probably realizing he shouldn’t stand between the two of you and what needed to happen. With an irate glance shot at Gojo, he turns, pocketing his hands as he makes his way to the stairs. 
Only when the door shuts do you look at Satoru again. 
He stays unusually quiet, his face unreadable. Frankly, it was rather unsettling. You had no idea what was going through his mind. “I–I’m sorry!” you blurt out the first words that crash to the surface of your mind the moment you see him in his entirety. There was no hope of holding back. After days spent away from him, lost in his absence, and days dancing on the edge of death, the words tumble out of you before you can stop them—unbidden, unstoppable. “For everything. Y–You must have been stressed with work and other things. My fuck up only added to your plate. I get it, ya know? It's selfish of me, even now, to rely on you so much when there’s a whole world that needs you. They are not my students, and I put them in danger.” Quickly, the tears gather in your waterline again, but you blink them away. “I–I’ll be leaving soon. I’ll… I’ll go. I’ll get out of your way, and you won’t have to deal with me bothering you any longer–”
“Can I touch you?” The question comes suddenly, softly, and almost hesitantly. 
You blink a few times, puzzled, but then, you unravel, folding inward under the weight of his voice. Your breath hitches in your throat. Was he still holding onto what you had said that night? Was he haunted by the barriers broken and the others so carelessly assembled? 
He still wanted you? 
You didn’t want him to let you go. Not yet. Not ever.
Like a dam breaking, you surged forward, closing the space between you two. Seconds later, you feel his resolve crumble. He crushes you to his chest, flowers falling to the floor. His arms enveloped you with a force that robbed you of breath, your feet nearly coming off the ground as you both stumble backward. Trembling, he clung to you as if you were an anchor in a world that threatened to tear him apart. There were no words—the unspoken agony and grief were far too overwhelming to put into words—if there even were words for it. 
I’m sorry. I love you. I’m glad you’re okay.  You felt it all with him. You could feel the pounding of his heart against your chest, hear its frantic rhythm match your own.
His hands were shaking, one tangling in your hair, the other wrapping entirely around your frame and squeezing your hip. He buries his face into your neck, and his hot breath is ragged and uneven as he inhales your scent. “I thought–” he swallows, shaking his head. “I didn’t know where you were—for a second time.”
Your cursed energy was low, more depleted than it had ever been. It explains why you were so weak, so frail. When he saw your empty bed, he must’ve panicked. He ran to you, anxiously following the weak traces of your presence. 
Your fingers tangle in his hair, and the familiar silk of his eyeband rubs against your skin. You gently tug at the fabric with the tips of your fingers. His breath hitches, but he doesn't pull away. Instead, he stills as you slip the black band from his face. He lifts his head just enough to rest it against yours. They were that same stunning shade of azure—bright and impossibly vivid, glowing softly as if they carried the remnants of a forgotten star. Captivating, otherworldly, yet achingly human—something he’d often forget from time to time. 
“You promised,” he murmurs, voice broken. “You promised.”  
“What are you talking about?” you ask just as brokenly. 
Suddenly, one of his hands grasps your neck, and you choke on your words. He doesn’t squeeze tight, but the look on his face is enough to make you gasp. “I couldn’t feel you. I couldn’t feel you anymore,” he says achingly. 
Your chest tightens, nails slightly digging into his forearm. You open your mouth to speak, failing more times than succeeding. You wanted to speak, but the words lodged in your mouth. 
“I–I don’t understand.”
“You’re not wearing it anymore,” he murmurs, his nose brushing softly against your cheek. The necklace you always wore—his gift to you, the one that held a part of him, a part of the two of you—was gone. He could feel it in the pit of his stomach, an absence that gnawed at him like hunger, an emptiness he could never satisfy. 
His voice wasn’t angry, far from it. It wasn’t even harsh, but something in it—a quiet desperation—made the air between the two of you quiver. 
“You promised you’d never go where I couldn’t follow,” he whispers again. “Remember?” 
You nod in his hold, tightly pursing your lips together when a few tears escape, dripping from your eyes.  He leans in, pressing his forehead against yours again, gazing deep and unwavering into your eyes. I remember. His grip on your neck loosens until he removes his hand from your throat completely, gentle fingers pushing down your shirt's fabric. His fingers trace your skin, the empty spot where your necklace once laid. 
Then, it suddenly hits you. “Oh.”  
He could feel you as much as you felt him. If you were ever too far from him—out of the range of his sight, out from where his hands could reach for you, that necklace was a beacon, a beckoning, a lighthouse in the storm that guided you home—guided him home. 
You squeeze him tighter. You missed him. You really missed him. 
“How did you find me?” 
He takes a moment to breathe, trying to settle the rapid beat of his heart. “Utahime.” He wheezes out a pained laugh. “She called me panicking once you collapsed. I got there as quickly as I could.”  
You copy his laugh, albeit coughing a bit from the pain blooming in your ribs. You hated to admit it, but the longer you stood, the more your body began to hurt. “I should just heal myself and get this over with.”
“Don’t,” his grip tightens on you again. “you’re using it wrong. There’s damage, lots of it,” he tells you, wiping at the blood that had stained your skin at the corner of your mouth with his thumb. “Any more and–” his eyebrows furrowed deeply, the weight of grief and guilt tugging his features. The corner of his lips tightened. “Shoko operated on you for hours. You nearly died.”
He sees what others cannot, his gaze piercing the surface to something deeper, something raw. He sees the world through an entirely different lens, and right now, the sight of you seems to pain him dearly. 
For a moment, you wonder just how much damage is hidden within you and how much it must weigh on him to see it. “Shoko might have gotten you out of the woods, but she told me you’d need a few more rounds to get you back to normal.”
“That makes sense,” you murmur, allowing your entire body weight to ease into him. He accepts you with open arms. “I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck. Or twenty.”
“I missed it,” he utters, voice thick with regret. “If I had just looked a bit closer, we wouldn’t be in this mess. I fucked up. I could’ve prevented this.” His careful grip on you tightens as if you’d slip away from him once more.  “But,” his tone softens. “You did so well. You took care of that cursed womb before I could even get to the scene.” Even through his pain and wallowing, his heart swells. He was proud of you. 
He bends down, grabbing the flowers he dropped before moving towards you again. “Oh gosh,” you hide your face into his neck as he reaches down, one arm hooking under your legs as he lifts you. You don’t hesitate, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I’m definitely fired, aren’t I?” 
He carefully guides you back into your room. He manages to toss your flowers on the counter by the window. “Don’t worry about any of that. I’ll handle it. ‘Kay?” He places you down on your bed, but he hesitates, not wanting to fully pull away. 
Your eyes flicker, recalling the night of your augment. You knew this was the reason behind his haunted expression. You recognized the torment because you, too, had felt it. “You’re mad,” he observes relatively quickly.
You didn’t want to bring it up. You weren't necessarily mad, not anymore, but even near death couldn’t make you forget the pain he had caused with words he so carelessly struck you down with. 
“What you said… Hurt me, Gojo,” you look down at your hands, feeling selfish for even bringing this up after nearly dying. However, you knew this conversation was inevitable.  “Even if you were right I felt cast aside. Useless. Why didn't you tell me you felt that way before?”
“No… don’t say that. I was being stupid. I over reacted. I know you'd always protect those kids and that's exactly what you did. You’re not weak or a nuisance, or... convenient.” you flinch at the word. “You’re far from that. I need you to know that.”
“...Then what am I?”
“Everything,” he shudders. “You’re everything.” His lips brush over your forehead, your cheeks, and eyelids, each kiss tender and lingering. But then he pauses, his smooth lips hovering just above yours. He’s always been so confident, so self-assured. You’re unsure how to react.
You were sitting on your bed, feet dangling just above the floor. He is leaning over you, one large and warm hand on your thigh, the other cupping your face gently. He was close, but not close enough. Even bent at the waist, his height keeps him just out of your reach unless he leans back down just a bit more…
You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him down to you, giving him all the assurance you have to offer.
You were hurt, but you still wanted him.
You still loved him. 
His mouth was warm and soft—testing the waters and treading carefully. His grip on your thigh tightens until– 
He lets go. You feel the tension in his body dissipate, and finally, he allows himself to fully enjoy you—taste you. The kiss deepens, and you swear it brought life back into your frail body. He overwhelms you now in the most delicious way possible. Your toes curl, and your tight embrace eases. Your arms go weak, your hands moving to run down his chest, his taut muscles quivering in the wake of your touch.  Every moment was a promise, every brush of skin a new vow. No words were spoken, but you both heard everything that had been held back, everything that had been left unsaid. 
I’m sorry.
I love you. 
I love you.
I love you. 
He smiles against your lips, but you don’t stop or pull away, catching and nipping at his bottom lip. Then, you kiss him again, slotting his top lip between yours. “You really love me, huh? Hehe.”
Oh. You hadn’t realized you said it—whimpered murmurs against his lips. No wonder why he looked all dopey and smiley. 
“You’re not going to make me grovel for forgiveness?” He pecks your lips again. “This seems too easy. I know you’re still mad.”
You chase after his lips. “Of course, I’m still mad,” you mutter against him. “But I thought I would never see you again.” Even as he frowns, you pepper his lips with kisses. “Plus, it's not like you to grovel.”
“I would for. Only for you, of course.”
You giggle, nipping his lip a little harder. “Yeah,” you rolled your eyes. “I’d like to see that.”
Oh no. You’ve made a grave mistake. You knew you messed up again the second the words fell from your lips. There’s a glint in his eyes now. 
“Oh, my beautiful, angelic Queen! I know I have displeased you. Please accept my humble apologies!” You squeak at the suddenness of his actions. He sinks to his knees dramatically, and his palms meet the dirty floor, and so does his forehead. “I am at your mercy! I have failed you greatly, and I wish to make amends.”
You swat him on the back of his head, but it's not nearly enough to hurt him or deter him from whatever this is. “Gojo! Don’t bow like that! Get up!”
“But I can’t!” He whines. “You must forgive me! I will spend eternity on my knees if it means I can regain your favor, my perfect, beautiful, divine Queen. You alone rule this sinners heart!”  He inches forward on his knees, squeezing himself between your legs. His hands find homage on your waist as he nudges his face into your stomach.
Your eyes roll skyward. “Only you could apologize and insult me at the same time, Satoru,” you grumble, looking down at him before running your fingers through white stands. 
Suddenly, he looks up from this position, resting his chin right beneath your ribs, grinning ear to ear. “You called me Satoru~”
You feel your face flush, heat gushing to your cheeks and ears. “Shut up. You’re such an idiot. Can you get up now?”
“Nah,” he says lazily, burying his head into your stomach again. His voice comes out muffled. “I’m trying to make amends with my Queen. Let me, will ya?”
You ease, realizing you won't be able to stop him from doing what he wants. Even if it was a bit theatrical, he was doing his best—you know that because you know him. You let your nails gently graze his scalp as you continued to pat him. He hums, almost purrs, as your other hand finds his shoulder, squeezing him gently before running your fingers under his shirt, caressing his skull and the taut muscles in his back. A beat of silence passes, but you find yourself uncaring.
You had him back in your arms. That’s all that really mattered to you right now.
“Look, I know… I know I messed up,” he begins, voice so low, you nearly miss it. “I’m not great at this—saying the right things. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I was stressed. I was fed up with the higher-ups and fed up with my missions, but that’s no excuse. If I could take it all back, I would in a heartbeat. You deserve better than what I was giving you. I’m gonna try to be better… for you. For us.”  His words hang in the air a bit awkwardly, but you can see the sincerity in his eyes and hear it in his voice. It couldn’t be missed. He shifts a bit, moving to kiss your belly. Then, his large hand wrap around yours, guiding your hand closer to his lips. He kisses the back of your knuckles tenderly as if the act of his apology could never be enough.
“You want me to stay?”
He squeezes you tighter. “Of course I do. What would I be without you?”
“Hm. You’d still be Gojo Satoru. Even without me.” 
“I don’t want to imagine a life without you,” he mutters. “Wherever you go, that’s where I’ll follow. I've already told you that…”
“Don’t say that,” you whisper sweetly, patting his head. He nudges his head further into you. “The world will always need you.”
“I will always need you. So please… stop talking like this.” He pinches your side, making you squeak. Finally he looks up, an unimpressed expression gracing his features. “And don’t ever leave the city to get away from me. When you told me you were going to a hotel, I thought you meant in Tokyo.”
You chuckle nervously, looking elsewhere. “Yeah… Sorry about that.” 
“Next time, take a walk or something. I dunno, go touch some grass if you get tired of me.”
A small smile escaped you, followed by a quiet laugh that shook your shoulders. You pat his back three times before kneading him softly. “Okay, humble peasant. You've groveled for long enough. Now lay with me,” you demand him. “I want you to lay with me. I’m so tired.”
“Psh. I’d hardly fit on this bed.”
“Whatever,” you tell him, scooting over. “I’ll make room. Get in, string bean.”
He grins. “Yes, ma’am.”
 It’s a bit awkward at first with his lanky form, but he makes it work. It was a tight fit, and his feet slightly dangled off the bed, but he made no objections. With your back to his chest, he held you against him securely.
“You’re cold,” he observes out loud when you start playing with his fingers. It’s a bitter realization, a deafening one on his part. You know it bothers him, especially as he wraps the blanket around you tighter.
He tries not to let it show. However, he quickly becomes restless and you know he isn’t sated. He begins to move. “Let me go get you another blanket.”
“Nooo. Stay here.”
“Huh? But you’re freezing! And you’re never cold!”
“I’m already warming up!” You intervene with a small giggle, tugging him by his jacket. “Just shut up and lay with me, already.” He hesitates before unbuttoning his black jacket. When he was determined, there wasn’t any stopping a man like him, and right now, he was determined to get you warm.
He lays his jacket over you, spreading the fabric out, smoothing away all the wrinkles, and making sure you're covered. It might as well be a blanket with how long it was over you. Bonus points because it still carried him warmth and smelled like his cologne. A blend of earth and wood with a hint of something darker—smokey and smooth. You always loved the scent. Whenever he walked by, it brushed past you like a gentle breeze over still water, warm and inviting, with subtle notes of leather, musk, and vanilla. 
He grunts a bit before easing into the bed again. “My little icicle- ow,” you shot your elbow back, getting him right in the ribs. “Okay, okay, I’ll stop.” He chuckles, before wrapping his arms over you one more. He brushes your hair from your neck, his breath fanning against your skin. He kisses you there once, twice, three times before saying something familiar. 
“I could sense when you left Tokyo. I didn’t know what to do. Even with my eyes, I couldn’t find you. You were just gone. Don’t ever go where I can’t follow." He kisses your neck. "Please.”
You turn around, searching for his lips. He melts into you once again, squeezing your side sweetly. “I promise,” you murmur. “Wherever you go, that’s where I’ll follow,” you say, voicing back the same promise he made you. He smiles faintly against your lips.  
When you woke up the next morning, your necklace was there. It was back where it belonged, sapphires resting gently over your steady beating heart—carrying Satoru’s silent promise.
Wherever you go, that’s where I follow. 
-
a/n: I honestly don't know how I feel about this but if you made it to the end I hope the nearly 18k was worth reading. If you couldn't tell its based off the song Die With A Smile. Honestly, I think I might have been happier by making this a bit longer and flushing out some of the scenes more, but I was trying new things and I was excited to post my first jjk post :) however its getting late now but if there's any typos or errors I notice later I'll edit as needed.
anyways, if you'd like to see more gojo x sorcerer!reader let me know! also I really hoped you liked the bits I added with Megumi (he's just a smol bean).
likes and reblogs are always appreciated! :p
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feral-renaissance-cat · 2 days ago
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Having come from a small church town that gets reeeal ugly when you look past the "We're all good neighbors who live good lives :)" facade, I can see the vision here.
Cozy Witch thinks to herself "Hmm, in every cozy mystery there's usually a convenient clue with exposition in the trash somewhere" so there's a game mechanic where you can peek in trash cans and dumpsters but she finds things like crumpled up drafts of suicide notes, or letters from the bank with a final warning about all their overdrawn accounts, or empty prescription bottles for anti-depressants and antipsychotics. She could use these to better understand the struggles of her neighbors and maybe reach out to them to offer emotional support, but haha nope nothing about where the cat went in here, better keep looking. (And she's not qualified to help people with problems like that so what could she do anyway that wouldn't possibly make things worse? They seem happy when she waves at them during her visits to town so they must have it under control anyway. She'll cast a little spell to make more flowers in their garden and that ought to cheer them up.)
Cozy Witch sees a little boy sitting on his back doorstop looking sad. "Aha," she tells herself. "He must be sad because the nice kitty he saw ran away. I can ask him which way it went." Turns out the boy is sad because one of his parents drank too much "grown-up juice" and now they're too sleepy and angry to play with him. She could take him with her on her adventure or at least spend some time with him, but ohhh welllll if his parent comes out looking for him they might be worried about where he went, so best of luck kid but there's still a missing cat out there. (She has heard about how violent alcoholics can get and if they get angry with her for doing anything with their son without permission they might hurt her. Except no, that person runs the charming little bookshop, they would never hurt anyone. She doesn't want them getting upset either way, and doesn't want to find out what they're like when they drink. She'll come back later and bring them some muffins or cookies or something the boy will like.)
Cozy Witch comes to the forest on the other side of town, which of course is where a cat would go to hide. She hears people talking and goes to see if they have any information about where her cat might be. As she gets closer she hears it's actually a small gang who have dragged the local Minority Character out here to rough them up and remind them that You Don't Belong Here Because You're Different. She has a few spell options that could break this up, but it's not her business and besides all this noise would have scared her cat away so she should look somewhere else, far enough away where she can't hear Minority Character's pleas for mercy. (And frankly she sort of agrees that Minority Character would be happier if they moved away because they don't fit in at all and no one would have to get mad if everyone just Fit In.)
Cozy Witch eventually finds her cat playing with the dead body of an endangered bird that it very clearly killed. Earlier in the game there were posters throughout town saying that this bird is a protected species and here's a list of ways you can help the conservation efforts, which includes not letting your pets roam free outside. She dismissed those by telling herself that her cat is different and she keeps it well-fed so it shouldn't have any reason to kill birds. She's a witch after all, and it's her job to protect all living things, which is why she's vegetarian and keeps her cat on a vegetarian diet as well. She gives her cat a talking-to on their way back to her cottage, and that should settle the matter. (Her cat might not have even killed that bird. Maybe it saw a hawk attacking the bird and tried to intervene but it was too late. Maybe it died of natural causes and when her cat found the body it thought that was one of its feather toys. She taught her cat to be nice and not even scratch the furniture so it's just so very unlikely that her cat would kill anything.)
These are all basic examples but it's almost 4am and I'm too tired for deeper nuances
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i could not be trusted to make this game because my immediate thought is that the game advertises and markets itself as what op intended but steadily and then rapidly becomes very clear that instead of a cozy cute cottagecore "mystery" the story SHOULD be about the blatant corruption, cruelty, systemic oppression, and persecution and bigotry of her neighbors, but the main character is desperately clinging to the original genre of omg cozy cute and cottagecore because she feels overwhelmed by the potential responsibility to enact meaningful change rather than feel-good aesthetic positivity, thus becoming actively complicit in the town's crimes through her not mere inaction but in fact conscious choice to decide that she will be the protagonist of a cozy cute genre game rather than a story which might challenge her preconceptions of the world and the state of her own community.
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accio-sriracha · 2 days ago
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"What's it like?" Regulus asked quietly, staring at the stars from their hiding spot in the garden.
"What's what like?" Sirius replied.
Regulus turned to look at him, the grass tickling his nose, "Being in love."
Sirius' eyes never moved from the stars, "Why do you ask?"
Regulus shrugged, "Just curious, I guess."
There was a long pause, Regulus assumed Sirius was trying to find the right words.
"It's sort of like falling." He explained, "It's slow at first. You don't even realise it. One day you notice the colour of their eyes is deeper than you thought. Less plain brown and more... chocolate coloured. The next time it's hearing their laugh and feeling yourself smile without meaning to, like your body wants to react, like the sound is... healing, I guess."
He paused again, finally moving to face Regulus.
Regulus nodded for him to go on.
"Eventually, all of the things you used to do as friends feel... bigger. Every touch doesn't feel so casual anymore. Everytime they say your nickname it's less of a joke and more like a secret, something sacred between the two of you."
He sighed, "Then, one day, you look up and realise how far you've fallen. And it's like there's no turning back. Everything reminds you of them. Everytime you make a joke you look to them first, to see if they're laughing. Everytime they walk in a room it's like nothing else matters." He laughed softly, the sound was nostalgic, "You find yourself looking for reasons to talk to them. Anything to be close to them, to feel their touch. Nothing is casual anymore, there's always... meaning, always something more left unsaid. It's understanding someone so deeply, and having them know you too."
Regulus smiled, "That sounds nice." He whispered.
Sirius nodded, "Yeah, it is."
"I want to have that some day." Regulus sat up, playing with a blade of grass between his fingertips.
Sirius sat up too, his own smile reassuring, "You will." He nodded, "Anyone would be lucky to have you."
⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅
Regulus pulled away from the pensive, his eyes filled with tears.
"May I be excused, professor?" Regulus asked.
The professor nodded, continuing his lesson on finding a positive memory for conjuring a patronus.
Regulus walked out into the hallway. His hands shook as he scrubbed the tears from his face.
And, of course, a voice from behind him caught his attention,
"Reggie! Hey, I thought you had defense class this hour?"
Regulus turned, meeting the deep chocolate brown of Potter's eyes. His stomach flipped as it always did when they were together.
"I do." He sniffed.
Potter caught the look on his face and his smile dropped. At once he was standing in front of Regulus, pulling him into a tight embrace.
"Hey, it's okay. It's okay, I'm here." He soothed, his hands rubbing Regulus' shoulders.
Regulus couldn't help the laugh that escaped him, because the touch sent sparks across Regulus' skin.
Potter frowned, leaning back to look at him again,
"Are you alright?" He asked.
Regulus shook his head, his smile appearing of its own accord,
"I think im in love with you." He whispered.
Potter's eyes widened, he leaned back a little further, "Do you have a concussion? You sound loopy. We should get you to the nurse."
Regulus stopped him mid-stride as Potter began to lead him down the corridor. He shook his head, tears filling his eyes again,
"I'm serious, Jamie. I'm in love with you."
Neither of them made the Sirius joke, Regulus had never once seen Potter speechless like this.
Eventually, he seemed to find his voice again,
"You're in love with me?" He repeated slowly.
Regulus nodded, "I am."
James took a while to process this. Regulus realised he probably should have waited to give the news when Potter wasn't on his way to the lavatory.
He was just about to apologise when Potter took both of his hands in his own,
"I've loved you for as long as I can remember."
The words hit Regulus harder than he could have ever imagined.
Before either of them could get out another word, Potter was pulling him into a sweeping kiss.
Regulus knew without a doubt this was the feeling Sirius had been describing all those years ago.
But he was wrong about one thing.
Regulus was the lucky one.
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pbaz7 · 2 days ago
Text
AGAINST THE TIDE: PART FIVE
paige x azzi
word count: 8k
A/N: Alrighttyy here’s the next chapter as promised. I am so sorry in advance for the beginning it was needed for the plot and I’ve kinda been following the accuracy of their season 😔. I swear I make up for it by the end of the chapter so you guys won’t hate me. They’re taking steps that’s all I’ll say 🙂‍↕️
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December 2021 - Connecticut
The next two weeks were a noticeable shift for both Paige and Azzi. With Azzi sidelined by her foot injury, Paige took it as an opportunity to grow closer to her outside of basketball, though it often came with a bit of dramatic flair. Paige would still FaceTime Azzi at all hours of the night, her voice playful but a little over the top as she begged, "Please come to the gym, it’s so boring without you." Each call, Paige would act like the gym now felt empty without Azzi as she showed her on the camera, exaggerating how she couldn’t get anything done without her presence.
Azzi, pretending to be annoyed, would respond with something like, “You’re dramatic, Paige,” but there was always a smile hidden behind her words. She’d act like she wasn’t going to answer, rolling her eyes at the screen, but it never took long before she found herself grabbing her shoes and dragging herself over to keep Paige company.
Sometimes, she’d help her shoot around or go through drills, other times they would just sit, talking about everything and nothing at all. Paige loved to come up with silly games to pass the time, and Azzi would play along, even if her foot wasn't fully healed. It wasn’t that Azzi didn’t mind taking it easy for a while; in fact, being with Paige made it a lot easier to forget the frustration of sitting out. There was something about Paige’s energy that kept her entertained, and it made the quiet moments in between practice feel a lot less lonely.
The rest of the team noticed Paige’s shift too, though they didn’t mention it directly not wanting to mess anything up. While Paige had always been intense and all about basketball, now there was a certain lightness in her. She was taking care of herself more—spending time with Azzi, relaxing instead of overworking. She had found a balance she hadn’t had before, and it didn’t go unnoticed by everyone.
The clock was ticking down, and UConn was firmly in control of the game against Notre Dame, leading 73-54. The tension in the air had long lifted as the final seconds of the game wound down. Paige was dribbling the ball up the court, her focus on running out the clock. But suddenly, as her left foot hit the floor, there was a sharp stumble, and her knee buckled in a way that sent a jolt of concern through the entire arena.
Pain flashed across Paige’s face, and despite her obvious discomfort, she kept dribbling, fighting to push through it. She passed the ball to Caroline, her right leg taking the brunt of the movement as she hopped on it, trying to stay upright. With every move, her limp grew more pronounced before Paige fell just in front of the UConn bench, clutching her left leg as she hit the hardwood floor hiding her face from view.
Azzi’s stomach dropped at the sight, her eyes widening in shock. It felt like the world around her paused, the entire arena quitting as her focus narrowed only to Paige. The gym’s noise fading as she heard nothing but her heart racing.
Geno immediately called a timeout, signaling for the trainers to rush over. Azzi’s breath hitched, her legs frozen in place as her gaze remained locked on Paige, the moment causing her chest to tighten slightly. Her mind was racing, wondering what had happened, how bad it was. She was on her feet in an instant, but the trainers were already around Paige, and Azzi hesitated, not wanting to crowd them. Why did she feel like this? She had seen plenty of teammates get injured before and she was fine but right now she felt sick to her stomach.
The trainers were around Paige, speaking to her softly, trying to calm her down as her breathing was uneven. But Paige’s face was twisted in clear discomfort as she kept repeating, "My knee," her voice shaky and urgent. Azzi's gaze didn’t leave her, watching even as Evina and Amari gently lifted Paige, one on each side, helping her off the court and to the end of the bench where the trainers could work on her.
Azzi stayed back, knowing she couldn’t talk to her yet. She had to wait until the game was officially over. Her mind kept replaying the moment Paige fell, and the worry was gnawing at her. Her stomach was in knots, but she knew better than to add to the chaos.
The final buzzer sounded, and the team went through the usual handshakes with Notre Dame, but everyone’s mind was far from the celebrations. Azzi’s eyes constantly flicked over to the bench, still keeping an eye on Paige as the trainers helped her up.
Paige limped toward the locker room with the help of the trainers, frustration and pain evident on her face. She was clearly trying to fight it, to stay composed, but her limping gait told the story. Azzi could feel her chest tightening again as she followed her into the locker room.
Once inside, Paige reached for her jersey, pulling it off roughly in frustration, and tossed it across the room not caring where it landed. Azzi could see the discomfort written all over Paige’s face, her frustration clear to everyone as she threw the piece of clothing away.
Evina, not knowing what else to do but be the leader she always has, stepped in with a scolding tone. "Paige, you know that’s not how we do things here," she said sternly, her voice filled with authority though there was a hint of uncertainty this time.
Azzi, however, knew that wouldn’t make anything better. So she moved closer, stepping in between Paige and Evina, her voice softer but firm. "She has to get it out, E. You gotta let her.”
Evina paused, glancing between Azzi and Paige. She looked like she wanted to argue but finally sighed, understanding. She nodded and stepped back, giving Paige the space she needed to process everything that just happened. Azzi knelt beside her, her voice low but filled with concern. "You okay?" she asked, her hand gently resting on Paige’s knee, though she wasn’t sure if it was the right thing to do. But she couldn’t stand seeing Paige like this—frustrated, in pain, and clearly overwhelmed.
Paige didn’t respond immediately, but her shoulders slumped slightly as if the weight of the situation had finally caught up with her. Her eyes welled up with tears, and her body trembled as she whispered, "I think it’s broken, Azzi." Her voice was small, barely audible, but the fear in it was unmistakable. "I heard it crack... pop... I don’t know... it hurts like hell."
As the words left her mouth, the tears started to fall, and her shoulders shook. Azzi immediately moved closer, her arms wrapping around Paige, pulling her into a comforting embrace. The hug was a little stiff at first, the two of them never being this close in this kind of situation. But eventually Paige sunk into Azzi’ chest trying to let the younger girl soothe her as she continued to cry. Azzi didn’t say anything at first—she didn’t need to. The team, watching silently from a distance, could only stand by, understanding the gravity of the moment. Everyone knew how much this game and the season meant to Paige. To see her like this, in pain, and terrified was something none of them had even thought to prepare for.
Azzi kept her hold on Paige, gently rubbing her back, whispering soft words of reassurance. "You’re gonna be okay, Paige," she murmured, her voice steady and calming. "We’ll figure this out. It’s going to be okay."
The sound of the door opening cut through the tension, Geno entered, his presence commanding the room. He didn’t waste any time on post-game talk, his focus solely on Paige. "No talk just get changed, everyone," he ordered, his voice curt but concerned. His eyes flicked to Paige, the worry clear in his eyes.
Before anyone could move, the trainers entered with a wheelchair, approaching Paige with gentle but firm insistence. Paige, still in tears, looked up at them, her stubbornness flaring despite her pain. She shook her head violently, her voice hoarse as she snapped, "I’m not using that shit."
Azzi, who had been holding Paige, leaned back slightly and looked at her with a mix of concern and understanding. "Paige..." she began softly, trying to coax her to let the trainers help without saying it directly. But Paige, her face contorted with frustration and fear, shook her head again, this time more vehemently.
"I’m fine. I can walk," she said, but the words were more defensive than convincing. Azzi stayed quiet, knowing Paige’s stubbornness well at this point, but she wasn’t sure how to get through to her at this moment. The last thing Azzi wanted was to push Paige further into herself, but she also knew they couldn’t let her walk out on her knee.
"Paige, let them help," Azzi said quietly, her voice full of empathy but still firm. "You’re not going to get miraculously better by fighting it." She gently but firmly squeezed Paige’s shoulder, hoping to make her understand.
The rest of the team remained silent, a heavy tension hanging in the air as everyone waited for Paige’s response, not knowing how she was going to react. Finally, after a long, drawn-out moment, Paige let out a frustrated sigh, her defiance still burning but her body sagging in defeat. She didn’t speak but slowly, reluctantly, she allowed the trainers to assist her into the wheelchair.
As one of the trainers began to push the wheelchair forward, Paige’s hand hesitated at her side before reaching out. Her fingers brushed against Azzi’s, almost tentative, as if she was unsure whether she should ask for that comfort or if this was even ok to do. Azzi didn’t hesitate when she saw it. She immediately took Paige’s hand causing the blonde to let go of a breath she didn’t know she was holding.
The subtle exchange didn’t go unnoticed. The rest of the team exchanged glances but said nothing, the weight of the moment pressing them into silence when they would usually make a joke.
Azzi remained close, walking beside her as they left the locker room, her heart aching as she watched Paige, trying her best to hide her tears. Azzi stayed silent, squeezing Paige’s hand, knowing it wasn’t the right time for empty words that wouldn’t change anything.
A few days later they were sitting together in Paige’s room, the tension of Paige’s injury still hanging slightly in the air, though there was a quiet calm between the two of them. Paige had her knee elevated, a heating pad resting on it, her face a mix of frustration and exhaustion. The injury was worse than she’d expected. It wasn’t just a sprain or a twist like she hoped—it was a fracture and a torn meniscus. She’d need surgery and would be out for at least two months. The weight of it all had hit her hard when she found out, and while she didn’t mind being surrounded by her teammates, right now, she only really wanted to be around one person. This thought process only added more to her confusion and frustration.
Azzi, understanding the gravity of the situation from when she tore her ACL, had been quietly sitting with her everyday, offering her presence without pressing for details. But now, as Paige spoke about her surgery, Azzi could see the hurt in her eyes.
"I’m scheduled for surgery next week,” Paige was saying, her voice quieter than usual. "They said I’ll be out for a minimum of two months. I know it’s not that long and I’m kinda lucky but it still feels like forever."
Azzi, trying to lighten the mood a little, cracked a joke. "Well, perfect timing then. You’ll be back just in time for March Madness. Look at that, you can’t even make a dent in our run!" She grinned, trying to ease the tension that was in the air.
Paige’s lips curled into a small smile, the tiniest spark of humor returning to her face. She kicked Azzi with her right leg—her healthy leg—and laughed a little, shaking her head. "Yeah, perfect timing," she muttered, her tone still tinged with sarcasm but a little lighter than before.
Azzi held her hands up in mock surrender, exaggerating her defensive stance at Paige kicking her. "Careful there, I’m mobile," she teased, easing back against the headboard of the bed. "This would be a losing game for you. You’re stuck on the bed."
Paige’s grin widened slightly, her eyes glinting with the playful defiance Azzi had grown to know so well. "You think so, huh?" she challenged, though it was clear that the teasing had pulled her out of the heavy space she’d been in for the last couple of days.
"Oh, I know so," Azzi replied, her voice playful and teasing, her smile matching Paige's as she leaned back against the headboard without a worry in the world.
Without warning, Paige’s hand shot out and she tickled Azzi’s side. Azzi squealed in surprise, instantly breaking into laughter and hopping off the bed, trying to get away from Paige’s relentless fingers.
"Hey, that’s no fair!" Paige muttered, her face lighting up with amusement as she tried to push herself up, wincing slightly at the discomfort in her knee. "I can’t get over there that fast."
Azzi pouted exaggeratedly, her laughter still bubbling out as she stood just out of reach. "Tough luck," she teased, grinning widely. "You’ve got a bum leg, so I’ll win the next few rounds."
Paige huffed, settling back into her spot on the bed, though she couldn’t help the small smile tugging at her lips. "You’re lucky I can’t chase you," she muttered, looking at Azzi like she was plotting her next move.
Azzi stuck out her tongue in mock defiance, still standing just out of range. "I’ll take my win. But don’t worry, I’ll go easy on you next time," she teased as she sat back on the bed, crossing her arms with a satisfied grin.
Paige muttered something under her breath, her eyes downcast as she crossed her arms, her mood shifting slightly.
Azzi smirked, leaning in closer with a playful glint in her eyes. "What was that?" she asked, her tone laced with curiosity.
Paige shot back, pouting slightly, her voice almost a whisper, "Nothing, leave me alone."
Azzi couldn't resist teasing her further, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. "Aww, did I make the big baby sad?" she cooed, her voice dripping with exaggerated sweetness.
Paige rolled her eyes, trying to hide the small smile threatening to break through. "Stop," she muttered, though the lighthearted teasing was clearly exactly what she needed.
Azzi grinned, enjoying the little back-and-forth, and leaned back into the bed, her eyes softening as she watched Paige. "Okay, okay. I'll stop for now," she said, giving Paige a break from the teasing, though she was clearly pleased to see the faint smile tugging at the older girl's lips.
A while later, the two of them had settled into a comfortable silence. Paige, however, found herself looking at Azzi once again, unable to stop the way her thoughts seemed to linger on her. Azzi noticed, her eyes glancing toward Paige before raising an eyebrow.
"What?" Azzi asked, a teasing edge to her voice.
Paige’s ears flushed pink, and she quickly looked down, feeling the warmth of embarrassment flood through her. "Nothing," she murmured, avoiding Azzi’s gaze. "Just thinking."
Azzi’s curiosity piqued, and she leaned in slightly, her tone soft but insistent. "About what?"
Paige didn’t immediately respond, just shook her head with a light laugh, trying to dismiss the moment. "Nothing," she repeated, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "Really."
Azzi studied her for a moment, a smile forming as she relaxed back into the bed. "Alright, keep your secrets weirdo," she teased.
Paige couldn’t help but steal a few more glances at Azzi here and there, her gaze drifting over her without meaning to. Azzi definitely noticed, but she didn’t comment, merely raising an eyebrow at Paige the few times their eyes met. Paige quickly looked away, her heart beating a little faster each time Azzi caught her staring.
She didn’t know when it started—this acute awareness of Azzi, these small details she found herself noticing more and more. Small details that shouldn’t really matter to. Her dimples when she smiled, how her laugh made Paige feel lighter just hearing it, the way Paige couldn’t help but enjoy seeing Azzi’s smile and her brown eyes light up, like they somehow brightened the entire room, how Paige just always wanted Azzi around. Maybe it had started during all the late nights in the gym or maybe it was when Azzi would drag Paige to get a “sweet treat” despite the blonde grumbling everytime. All Paige knew was she liked having Azzi around a lot more than she would admit to anyone else.
December 2021 - DMV
Paige sat on her bed in the quiet of her room, the only sound being the occasional click of her phone screen as she scrolled through her social media absentmindedly. She was struggling a bit because she missed Azzi more than she wanted to admit. Despite talking every day since they left UConn for the break, the physical distance between them made the days feel longer.
She glanced at the clock. It was still early, but she couldn't stand the silence any longer. She reached for her phone and opened FaceTime, her thumb immediately hitting the call button. She leaned back against her pillows, the soft hum of her thoughts swirling in the background, waiting for Azzi to pick up.
The call rang twice before Azzi's familiar face appeared on the screen, her expression laced with that playful, sarcastic grin Paige had come to like a little too much. "Wow you almost made it to a reasonable hour before bothering me today. Bored already?" Azzi teased, raising an eyebrow.
Paige rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress the smile that tugged at her lips. "What you doing?" she asked, shifting slightly on her bed to get comfortable.
Azzi panned the camera down, revealing she was lounging in bed, a pile of blankets surrounding her. "Nothing," she said casually, her voice lazy. "Just enjoying the quiet."
"Hm," Paige hummed. "What you doing today?"
Azzi’s eyes glinted with mischief. "Aww, does Paigey miss me?" she teased, her lips curving into that knowing smirk. "You’re all about me now, huh?"
Paige groaned, rolling her eyes again. "No, I’m just bored. That’s all. I’m literally stuck here with nothing to do because I can’t drive."
Azzi chuckled softly, then raised her eyebrows as if she had an idea. "Well, I’m going to a kickback with some friends from high school later. You should come with me."
Paige paused, the offer hanging in the air for a moment. She didn’t know anyone from Azzi’s high school, and she was still recovering from her surgery a week and a half ago, which made her hesitate even more. She bit her lip. "I don’t know, you know I just had surgery. And I don't really know anyone there. They probably hate me for whooping your ass all the time anyway."
Azzi rolled her eyes at the last comment before her face softened into a reassuring smile Paige had grown to be comforted by. "It’s gonna be chill, I promise. Plus you don’t gotta worry about your knee. I’ll be with you the whole time. You know I got you."
Paige’s heart fluttered at the thought of spending time with Azzi, even though she was still a little unsure. The idea of being around a bunch of strangers didn’t sound all that appealing, but the thought of being by Azzi’s side made everything feel a little more manageable.
"I don’t know..." Paige started again, but Azzi interrupted her with a teasing glint in her eyes.
"Come on," Azzi coaxed, her voice playful. "Don’t be boring. I’ll take care of you I swear. And if you’re worried about the knee, I’ll literally carry you if I have to."
Paige laughed, shaking her head, though she could already feel the excitement building despite her reluctance. "Alright, fine. I’ll come. But I’m not doing anything but sitting down."
Azzi’s eyes widened, feigning surprise. "Oh, you’re so gonna dance. I’m dragging you on that floor with your stiff knee whether you like it or not."
Paige groaned, though there was a smile on her face now. "Yeah, we’ll see about that."
Azzi’s grin softened, the playfulness replaced with something warmer. "You’re coming, and that’s all that matters. I’ll make sure you’re good the whole time. Nothing you can’t handle."
Paige felt the butterflies stir in her chest as she met Azzi’s gaze through the screen. "Alright, I’m in. But if I get too tired, you’re carrying me out of there."
Azzi laughed, her eyes lighting up with amusement. "Deal. But don’t think I won’t drop you if you start complaining too much."
Paige grinned. "You’re so kind to me. Really."
"Only because you’re special," Azzi teased with a smirk
Much later the conversation had gone on longer than either of them had planned, but it felt impossible to hang up. Even now, with their plans for the night set, neither seemed ready to end the call.
Glancing at the time on her screen, she groaned softly. "Alright, I really need to eat and get ready before I’m late picking you up. My phone’s about to die, and you can’t watch the magic happen."
Paige raised a brow, leaning closer to the camera as if challenging her. "Magic? Azzi, I see you every day. What could possibly be so—"
"Uh-uh," Azzi cut her off, wagging a finger at her through the screen. "This is party-ready Azzi, Paige. Not practice Azzi. There’s a difference, and I’m not giving you a sneak peek."
Paige rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress her grin. "You act like I’m going to be taking notes or something."
Azzi tilted her head, a sly smile spreading across her lips. "You might. Gotta keep some mystery alive, Paigey."
Paige let out a laugh, shaking her head. "Fine, fine. Go charge your phone. Leave me here. Alone. Abandoned."
Azzi grinned, leaning closer to the screen for a moment before softly saying, "You’ll survive. I’ll call you back when I’m on my way."
And just like that, the call ended, leaving Paige staring at her reflection in the now-blank screen. She let out a long sigh before tossing her phone onto the bed beside her.
Azzi pulled up outside Paige’s house, her headlights cutting through the early evening darkness. She grabbed her phone and shot Paige a quick text: I’m here. A few minutes later, Paige stepped out, in a hoodie, her crutches tucked under her arms. Azzi hopped out to help, her lips quirking into a teasing smile as she opened the car door for Paige.
“You know, I’m not helpless,” Paige muttered as she settled into the passenger seat.
Azzi smirked as she slid back into the driver’s seat. “I know. But it’s fun watching you try to act tough.”
Paige rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the faint smile that tugged at her lips.
The car ride was casual at first, filled with light chatter. Azzi talked about her old teammates and how she wasn’t sure who’d actually show up tonight. Paige mostly listened, her responses short but warm.
After a while, the conversation lulled, and Paige found herself sneaking glances at Azzi. The way the dim light from the dashboard highlighted Azzi’s features—her sharp jawline, the curve of her lips, the casual way her hand rested on the steering wheel—it was almost unfair.
Azzi caught her once, her eyes flicking over for a moment before she stopped talking and smiled. “What?”
Paige’s ears turned pink, and she looked out the window. “Nothing. Just… listening.”
“Hmm.” Azzi’s hum was teasing, but she didn’t push it, much to Paige’s relief—and frustration.
When they arrived, Azzi helped Paige out of the car, steadying her for a second as she adjusted her crutches. They walked inside together, the hum of chatter and music growing louder as they stepped into the living room. A few heads turned, and someone called out Azzi’s name.
“Azzi!” one of her old friends greeted her, pulling her into a quick hug. “Yo nice to see you. You want a drink?”
Azzi shook her head. “Nah, I’m driving. Thanks, though.”
The guy turned to Paige, his eyebrows lifting slightly in recognition. “What about you?”
Paige shook her head. “No, I’m good.”
Azzi led Paige to a couch where a few of her former teammates were sitting. They greeted her warmly, the conversation flowing easily as they caught up. Paige mostly stayed quiet. She chimed in here and there when prompted, but for the most part, she sat back, her fingers fiddling with the hem of her hoodie.
Azzi noticed and leaned closer, her voice soft so only Paige could hear. “You good?”
Paige nodded, glancing at her. “Yeah, you know me. Not the most chatty if I don’t know them.”
Azzi smiled, her voice taking on a light teasing tone. “Mmm ok. I’ll make sure I keep you company then.”
The quiet exchange helped Paige relax a little, and soon the two of them were chatting quietly, their heads close together so no one else could hear. Azzi leaned back on the couch, her arm draped casually over the backrest, while Paige leaned in slightly, her knee bouncing as they talked.
At some point, Azzi stood. “I’ll grab us some water, you look parched.”
Paige nodded, watching as Azzi disappeared into the kitchen. For a moment, she was content to sit alone, scrolling idly through her phone. But it didn’t take long for people to notice she wasn’t occupied anymore.
It started with one or two people approaching her hesitantly asking for pictures, but within a few minutes, a small crowd had gathered around her. Paige smiled politely, answering their questions and posing for pictures, though her knee started to ache from standing without her crutches that Azzi had propped up on the wall.
After talking to someone in the kitchen for a bit Azzi returned to the living room, holding two bottles of water, only to pause when she saw the scene. A smirk tugged at her lips as she leaned against the doorway, watching for a moment. Of course, she should’ve known this would happen.
Still, Azzi’s smirk faded slightly when she noticed the tightness in Paige’s smile, the way her weight was shifted entirely to her right knee.
Azzi shook her head and made her way over, weaving easily through the people standing near Paige. “Alright, alright,” she said, her voice cutting through the chatter in a playful way to not draw too much attention. “Give her some room, y’all. She’s gotta rest that superstar knee.”
The crowd dispersed almost immediately, some people backing away sheepishly while others gave her a grin, clearly recognizing her from school as well. Paige glanced at her, relief flashing in her eyes as Azzi handed her one of the bottles.
“Sit,” Azzi said firmly but gently, her hand brushing Paige’s shoulder as she guided her back to the couch.
Paige exhaled as she sank back down, her fingers wrapping around the bottle. “Thanks,” she murmured, glancing sideways at Azzi.
Azzi dropped down beside her, leaning back casually. “No problem. You’re the one who decided to be famous, though,” she teased, earning a soft laugh from Paige.
“Yeah, well, I didn’t sign up for this part,” Paige muttered, though her tone was light.
Azzi chuckled, her eyes glinting with amusement. “Welcome to the life, Bueckers.
As the crowd thinned out around them, Paige and Azzi settled back into their own bubble of conversation. Paige leaned back against the couch, her bottle of water balanced on her knee. Azzi, ever relaxed, stretched out beside her, one arm resting along the back of the couch.
“So,” Azzi said, her voice soft but teasing, “you having fun yet?”
Paige smiled faintly, glancing at her. “I guess. It’s... different.”
Azzi raised an eyebrow. “Different good or different bad?”
“Good,” Paige replied quickly, then hesitated before adding, “Probably because I’m here with you. If it was anyone else I would be miserable.”
Azzi froze mid-sip of her water, her eyebrow arching higher as she set the bottle down. “Wait a second,” she said, her tone dripping with playful suspicion. “Are you trying to flirt with me, Paige?”
Paige’s eyes widened slightly at the accusation, her ears turned red as she stumbled over her words. “No! I—I was just saying—”
Azzi leaned closer, giving her an amused, knowing look. “Mhm. Sure you were.”
Paige groaned, looking away to hide her flustered expression. “I wasn’t,” she mumbled, though her voice lacked conviction.
Azzi let it go—for now—but the teasing smile never left her lips as she leaned back, clearly picking up on Paige’s reaction.
A little while later though Azzi knew she wasn’t making things up in her head.
One of Azzi’s friends walked by, their arm brushing against Azzi’s as they held a drink, and in the process, the liquid sloshed over the edge, spilling onto Azzi’s shirt.
“Dude you’re drunk!” Azzi exclaimed with a laugh, pulling her shirt away from her skin as it stuck to her chest uncomfortably.
“Sorry!” her friend called back, but Azzi just waved it off.
Paige, however, couldn’t help but glance down. The damp fabric clung to Azzi’s chest, highlighting the curves beneath. She quickly looked away, but it was too late. Azzi had caught her.
Azzi didn’t say anything at first, but her eyes glinted with something as she grabbed a napkin to dab at the spill. After a moment, she set the napkin down and turned toward Paige, her movements a little slow.
“What were you looking at Paige?” Azzi asked, her voice low and teasing as she leaned in slightly
“Nothing!” Paige said quickly, though her voice cracked slightly, betraying her.
Azzi smirked, inching closer until Paige instinctively leaned back against the wall, Azzi made her stand by in the name of getting her knee used to standing. Azzi placed a hand on the table beside Paige, her other hand reaching up to twirl a strand of Paige’s hair around her finger.
“Hmm,” Azzi mused, tilting her head as she studied Paige’s flustered expression. “You sure? Because it kinda looked like you were... distracted.”
Paige swallowed hard, her heart pounding. “I wasn’t.”
Azzi’s smirk deepened as she fluttered her eyelashes, leaning just a fraction closer. “Paigey...” she whispered, her voice almost a purr. “Do you have a crush on me?”
The words sent a jolt through Paige, and she found herself nodding before she could think, her brain short-circuiting under Azzi’s gaze.
Azzi blinked, momentarily surprised by the response, but then her expression softened into something almost unreadable. Her hand stilled in Paige’s hair, her thumb brushing against the strand lightly before she pulled back with a smile.
“Well,” Azzi said softly, her voice carrying a mix of amusement and something else Paige couldn’t quite place. “Good to know.”
Paige stared at her, still trying to process what had just happened, as Azzi settled back into her seat on the couch, acting like nothing had happened. But the glint in her eyes and the slight curve of her lips said otherwise.
Azzi kept her teasing smile as she leaned back into the couch, picking up her drink and taking a casual sip. Paige, still frozen against the wall, tried to compose herself.
“So,” Azzi said after a moment, glancing sideways at Paige, “what’s going on in that head of yours, huh?”
Paige forced a laugh, her voice slightly shaky. “Nothing. Just... thinking about how weird this party is.”
Azzi smirked, clearly not buying it, but she let it slide. “Weird, huh? I don’t know—seems pretty normal to me.” She raised an eyebrow, her tone playful. “Or are you just feeling weird because I called you out?”
Paige groaned, hiding her face in her hands. “Azzi, please. Don’t start.”
Azzi chuckled. “Oh, I’m just getting started.”
Before Paige could respond, someone called Azzi over to the kitchen. She excused herself, leaving Paige to sit there, her thoughts swirling.
When Azzi returned a few minutes later, she plopped back down beside Paige with two more fresh waters. “Here,” she said, handing one to Paige.
“Thanks,” Paige muttered, her cheeks still faintly pink.
Azzi grinned as she twisted the cap off her own bottle. “You’re welcome. You good now, or should I give you a few more minutes?”
Paige glared at her, but there was no heat behind it. “You’re the worst.”
“Nah,” Azzi said, leaning back lazily and tossing her arm along the back of the couch, close enough that her hand brushed Paige’s shoulder. “Apparently you like me too much to think that.”
Paige rolled her eyes, but her lips twitched, betraying the smile she was trying to suppress.
As the night went on, the two of them fell into their usual rhythm of casual conversation as if nothing happened. Paige occasionally chimed in when Azzi’s friends asked her a question, but for the most part, she stayed content in her role as an observer.
It wasn’t until they were heading home that Azzi brought it up again.
The car ride was quiet, the hum of the engine and SZA playing quietly in the background filling the space between them. Paige stared out the window, her knee bouncing slightly in a restless rhythm.
“You’re awfully quiet for someone who talks so much,” Azzi said, breaking the silence.
Paige glanced at her, her fingers tightening slightly around her phone she was holding. “Just tired, I guess.”
“Uh-huh,” Azzi replied, her tone dripping with skepticism.
Paige shifted, trying to focus on the passing streetlights. But then Azzi glanced over at her, catching the faint way Paige’s eyes flickered toward her hands on the steering wheel.
“You keep looking at me,” Azzi said suddenly, a sly grin tugging at her lips.
“I am not!” Paige said, her voice shooting up an octave as her ears turned red.
Azzi laughed softly, the sound low and warm. “It’s okay, you know. I don’t mind. I actually kinda like it.”
Paige groaned, sinking into her seat. “Can we not do this right now?”
Azzi shrugged, her grin never faltering. “Fine. I’ll save it for later.”
Paige sighed, but her lips twitched despite herself hanging on to the way Azzi said she liked it. She glanced at Azzi again out of the corner of her eye, noticing the way the passing streetlights highlighted her profile—her relaxed grip on the wheel, the faint smirk tugging at her lips, the calm confidence she always seemed to carry now.
Deciding to be a little bold and before she could second-guess herself, Paige blurted, “You looked really good tonight.”
Azzi’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, and for a moment, the car was silent except for the hum of the music. She glanced at Paige briefly, her expression unreadable, before a small smile curved her lips.
“Thank you Paige,” Azzi said softly, her voice quieter than usual.
Paige’s ears burned, and she quickly turned her gaze back to the window, biting back a nervous laugh. “Yeah, well, don’t let it go to your head.”
Azzi chuckled, the warm sound filling the space between them. “Too late.”
The rest of the ride passed in comfortable silence, but Paige couldn’t shake the small, knowing smile Azzi wore the rest of the way home.
As they pulled into Paige’s driveway, Azzi shifted the car into park. She glanced at Paige, her earlier teasing replaced by a softer expression. “Well, here you are, safe and sound.”
Paige hesitated, fiddling with her seatbelt. “Do you, um… do you want to stay over? It’s late, and I’d rather you not drive home alone.”
Azzi raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement in her gaze. “Are you sure? I wouldn’t want to intrude.”
Paige rolled her eyes, already pushing the door open. “Azzi, just come in. It’s not a big deal.”
Azzi chuckled softly, unbuckling her seatbelt and following Paige to the door.
When they stepped inside, the faint sound of video game explosions filled the living room. Drew, was sprawled on the couch, controller in hand, his eyes glued to the screen.
Paige sighed, leaning against the doorframe. “Yo what are you still doing up?”
Drew jumped up, his boundless energy kicking in as soon as he noticed her. “Paige!” he exclaimed, jumping toward her before his attention shifted to Azzi. His eyes widened slightly, and he hurried to put the controller down, becoming more calm.
“I’m Drew,” he said confidently, holding out his hand like a little gentleman.
Azzi smiled, shaking his hand. “Azzi. Nice to meet you.”
Drew grinned up at her, his voice brimming with admiration. “You’re really pretty.”
Azzi laughed softly, her gaze flicking to Paige. “That seems to be a thing for the Bueckers family tonight.”
Paige groaned, already starting to head toward the stairs, albeit slowly due to her knee. “Oh my god, Drew, go to bed,” she called over her shoulder.
Azzi followed behind her, suppressing a grin as Drew called after them. “Goodnight, Azzi!”
Azzi’s laughter echoed softly as they climbed the stairs, and Paige shook her head, muttering, “I don’t know where he gets it from.”
When they reached Paige’s room, she pushed the door open and gestured for Azzi to come in. “You can hang out in here for a sec I’ll grab you something to drink.”
Azzi stepped inside, taking in the trophies, photos, and basketball memorabilia that decorated the space. “Nice room,” she said, settling onto the edge of Paige’s bed.
“Don’t get too comfortable,” Paige teased, disappearing to the kitchen.
Azzi leaned back slightly, her gaze lingering on the doorway where Paige had just disappeared. Her smile softened, and she shook her head, amused at how easily the night had taken such an unexpected—yet intriguing—turn. Anyone with eyes could see that Paige was attractive but Azzi never let thoughts linger too much of anything beyond that. But now Azzi sat there thinking about her and Paige’s dynamic, it definitely wasn’t lost on Azzi how much time they had spent together. How Paige was able to get her out of the bed at all hours of the night with just a FaceTime call. How easily they had fallen into each other's orbit after breaking past the tension they once had.
When Paige returned to her room, she found Azzi standing by her shelf, studying a framed photo of Paige with her teammates. “You were tiny in this,” Azzi commented with a small smile, glancing over her shoulder.
Paige set the drink down on her nightstand, rolling her eyes as she started undoing her bulky metal knee brace. “I wasn’t that small. You were just as scrawny back then.”
Azzi smirked, turning to face her fully. “Yeah, but now I’ve got muscles. You’re still trying to catch up.”
“Whatever,” Paige shot back with a grin, adjusting her leg with a slight wince as she set the brace aside. She got up and moved to her dresser, rummaging through the drawers until she found a soft hoodie and a pair of shorts. “Here,” she said, holding them out to Azzi. “I already put a toothbrush for you in the bathroom.”
Azzi walked over, taking her time as she crossed the room. When she reached for the clothes, her fingers deliberately brushed against Paige’s. The subtle touch lingered just a second too long, and when Paige glanced up, Azzi’s eyes were unreadable but warm.
“Thanks,” Azzi said, her voice light but carrying a hint of something Paige couldn’t quite place.
“Yeah,” Paige mumbled, quickly stepping back as if the proximity was suddenly overwhelming.
Azzi’s lips curved into a faint smirk, and without another word, she turned and headed for the bathroom. Paige watched her go, her stomach twisting in a way that was both confusing and exciting.
The soft click of the bathroom door brought Paige back to reality, and she let out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. She flopped onto her bed, pressing her hands over her face as her mind replayed the look in Azzi’s eyes
When Azzi emerged from the bathroom, the sound of her footsteps was soft but enough to draw Paige's attention. Glancing up from her phone, Paige’s eyes immediately caught on Azzi’s figure as she crossed the room. The oversized hoodie hung loosely on Azzi’s frame, her toned legs visible beneath the hem of her shorts. Her damp curly hair tumbled around her shoulders in an effortless way that made her look almost ethereal.
Paige gulped, quickly averting her gaze before she got caught staring. She swung her knee over the edge of the bed slowly and stood, grabbing her clothes. "I’m gonna hop in the shower now," she said, her voice sounding a little too rushed. "Be right back."
Azzi, who was checking her phone, gave a nonchalant hum of acknowledgment. "Take your time. Don’t hurt yourself, though."
Paige shot her a playful glare. "I’m not that helpless, you know."
Azzi smirked, not looking up. "Sure, you’re not."
With that, Paige escaped into the bathroom, closing the door and letting out a long breath she didn’t know she was holding. What is wrong with me? she thought as she set her clothes down and began the careful process of getting in the shower.
The shower helped clear her head, but it took longer than she anticipated with her knee, which was stiff from the day. By the time she emerged, dressed in her own oversized hoodie and shorts, her hair still damp, she felt a little more composed. That composure, however, faltered the moment she stepped into the room.
Azzi was laid out on Paige’s bed, her hair in curls sprawled everywhere as she scrolled through her phone. She looked entirely too comfortable, her body stretched out and her face lit by the soft glow of the screen.
Paige froze for a moment, her stomach fluttering. Something about seeing Azzi so relaxed in her space made her heart skip a beat. "You look a little too at home," Paige teased, trying to cover the nervousness in her voice.
Azzi turned her head, a slow grin spreading across her face. "You’re the one who invited me in. What did you expect?"
Paige scoffed, moving toward the bed with her hands tucked into the pocket of her hoodie. "Just don’t hog all the pillows," she muttered, sinking down onto the mattress.
Azzi let out a soft laugh, her eyes glinting with amusement. "No promises. You know I sleep a little crazy sometimes."
Paige rolled her eyes, but a small smile tugged at the corner of her lips as she settled against the headboard. Despite the teasing, the air between them was warm, and Paige found herself relaxing, even if the butterflies in her stomach were stubbornly refusing to settle.
Azzi’s gaze flicked down to Paige’s leg, the faint furrow of concern returning. "Hey," she said, her voice softer now. "Before we knock out, let’s switch spots. You should be on the inside, where your knee’s by the wall."
Paige blinked at her. "I’m fine, Azzi. You don’t have to—"
"Humor me," Azzi interrupted, sitting up and giving her an expectant look. "I’d rather not accidentally knee you in the middle of the night."
Paige hesitated for a moment before sighing dramatically. "Fine. But if I wake up smooshed against the wall, I’m blaming you."
Azzi grinned, already shifting so Paige could scoot over. As Paige moved, Azzi reached over to turn off the bedside lamp, plunging the room into a cozy darkness. The faint light from the street outside filtered through the blinds, casting soft patterns on the walls as the two of them settled into place.
It was quiet for a moment, the only sound was the faint rustling of blankets as they got comfortable. The tension was noticeable, though not unpleasant. This was different from the other times they’d ended up in the same bed—those moments had been accidental, born of exhaustion or laziness. The two of them falling asleep watching a movie or Azzi throwing a pillow at Paige in the middle of the night after the blonde fell asleep on Azzi’s beanbag telling her to get in the bed. But now, they were both wide awake, fully aware of each other’s presence in the shared space.
Paige lay on her back, staring at the ceiling, hyper-aware of Azzi beside her. She could feel the faint warmth of Azzi’s arm, just inches from her own, and it took everything in her not to glance over.
"Well, this isn’t awkward at all," Azzi said suddenly, her soft chuckle breaking the silence.
Paige turned her head, giving her a mock glare. "You saying that made it awkward."
Azzi smirked, rolling her eyes. "No, it didn’t. I was just stating a fact."
"It was fine until you opened your mouth," Paige teased, her voice light but edged with humor.
"Okay, so if I stop talking, we’ll be back to normal?" Azzi challenged, her tone playful as she shifted onto her side to face Paige.
Paige’s lips twitched upward. "I don’t know. I feel like the damage is already done."
"Wow," Azzi said dramatically. "Way to make me feel self-conscious."
"Good," Paige shot back, smiling now.
Azzi shook her head, grinning as she propped her head up on her hand. Her dark eyes studied Paige for a moment before she asked, "So, was today exhausting for you? Or are you secretly a robot and just pretending to be tired?"
Paige laughed softly, glancing at the ceiling. "No, it was exhausting. My knee’s sore from all the moving around, and my social battery is completely drained."
Azzi’s brow furrowed slightly, concern flickering across her face. "Your knee’s sore? Why didn’t you say anything?"
Paige shrugged. "It’s nothing I can’t handle. I’ve had worse days."
Azzi hummed, not entirely convinced but letting it slide. Her gaze lingered on Paige’s face as the faint light from the window shifted, casting a soft glow that made the blue in Paige’s eyes seem impossibly bright.
For a moment, Azzi found herself captivated, the vivid color catching her off guard. It reminded her of the sky after a storm, a striking clarity that was hard to look away from.
"You’re really pretty, Paige," Azzi murmured, the words tumbling out before she could stop them.
Paige turned her head fully toward Azzi, her cheeks flushing slightly. A shy smile crept onto her lips as she whispered back, "You’re really pretty too, Azzi."
Azzi’s heart skipped at Paige’s response, the quiet sincerity in her voice making the moment feel heavier in the best way. Neither of them looked away, the stillness between them now filled with an unspoken understanding.
"Do your eyes always look like that?" Azzi asked softly, almost to herself.
Paige blinked, confused. "Like what?"
"That blue," Azzi said, her voice barely above a whisper. "They seem…different."
Paige’s blush deepened, and she bit her bottom lip to hide her growing smile. "I guess… I don’t know they’re just eyes, Azzi." Paige said, trying to hide just how much those words affected her.
"If you say so," Azzi said, the words so quiet they barely reached Paige’s ears.
The softness of Azzi’s tone settled over them like a blanket, and neither of them spoke again. Paige slowly turned onto her side to look at Azzi, her exhaustion catching up with her as her eyelids began to droop. Azzi stayed where she was, her gaze lingering on Paige’s relaxed features until she finally let herself sink into the quiet comfort of the moment, her eyes closing as she softly held Paige’s forearm.
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angelixxsweetheart · 2 days ago
Note
how about Jinx getting aroused while reader is at work? like, what could get her to such state and how she'd deal with it?
i love that one!! happy new year to everyone btw!!
I cant do it without you - Jinx x fem!reader
NSFW AHEAD
men and minors dni (wlw friendly space)
warnings: mentions of strap on, teasing with nude picture, horny!jinx, masturbation, getting caught while doing so, sub!jinx
Jinx didnt know what was worse for her. The fact that you had to work in The Last Drop and the two of you will be separated for the next few hours. Or the fact that you had absolutely and successfully riled the poor woman up. She just woke up a few minutes ago, shortly after you left for your shift in the bar and of course you would never go anywhere without telling Jinx. Going shopping? She comes with you or you leave a little message. Taking a walk to get your head free? Another note with reassuring words that the woman with long braided hair was not the reason why you were feeling so worned out. You always told her where you went and mostly she tagged along.
But especially in the rare times where your girlfriend actually managed to get a good night rest despite her reoccurring nightmares or working through the whole night. In those cases you barely dared to wake her up, not wanting to disturb the light snores and relaxed figure resting underneath the quilts while you were quietly getting ready for work. And this was just one of those mornings.
Getting quietly out of bed to not disturb her even if it only was a matter of time before she would wake up, the poor girl cant sleep without you by her side. You got ready with as few noises as you could while also writing a little note to announce your disappearance to your lover but also mentioning that you will be back in the next few hours.
And here Jinx was, looking down at her workbench with wide eyes. There wasnt just a sweet note saying 'Hey angel, Im at work now and I'll probably be back in a few hours. I love you so much and please remember to eat breakfast' with a stain of your lips in a kiss. But also a picture attached. Not just any picture. Jinxs jaw almost dropped at the sight of you holding up your shirt to expose your breasts to the camera, a sweet smile on the lips she loved to kiss while she could feel the heat immediately rushing in her lower stomach.
You couldnt have just left her like that, with your tits exposed for her eyes only when she knew you would only be back in the next few hours. And she couldnt even touch herself for relief. Ever since you were the person to make her cum and touch her where no one else was ever able to, she hadnt been able to get off with her own hands. It was pathetic, but she just couldnt make it without you.
So here she had been for god knows how long, sitting on your shared bed with her leg bouncing to somehow distract herself from the aching wetness between her thighs as her pink and shining eyes stared down onto the picture in her pale hands. She could only focus on it, she had already blended everything out, especially your sweet reminder for her to eat breakfast.
At the sight of your perky and perfect tits, she could only reminscine about the times she had let her tongue run over the nub, or pulling and kneading the flesh from behind as she pounded into your poor and already sensitive pussy from all the orgasm with her purple strap. She wanted nothing more than to recreate that moment right now, to feel you cum all around it, to see you ride her strap while she was too busy with eating up your figure with her eyes.
She was extremely horny and restless now, but there was nothing she could do to relieve herself. It would only make it worse, but she cant do it without you. Yet somehow, she had to fight against the throbbing of her pussy and the urge to just run into the bar and drag you from the counter home only to merciless fuck you dumb and pretty.
She let out a shaky sigh and closed her eyes, the picture of your beautiful and exposed tits was already burned into the back of her mind as she imagined the countless times she made you easily unfold, either with her hands, her tongue or her strap. Or maybe one or two toys she had made herself. You riding on her silicone cock while she guided your movements with raspy praises leaving her dark lips, you clenching and cumming all over her fingers. It made her mind run and did not ease the wetness. Of course she had to take care of herself, or atleast try as good as possible.
The blue haired woman took another deep and shaky breath, moving her own hand over her small breast, covered by the fabric of your shirt that she had stolen to sleep as she always did. She cupped the flesh with her hand, teasing her sensitive nipple while rubbing her thumb over the fabric. Subconsciously she spread her legs, imagining what it would be like to have you right behind her, muttering praises and touching her the way she did to herself now.
Her other hand put the picture down as she leaned back to lay down on the bed, her now free hand teasingly pushing up the shirt to her stomach and drawing random shapes over her skin. "So needy already? Such a sweet girl for me" You would whisper into her ears. How badly she wanted to feel you instead of herself as her slender fingers slipped underneath the waistband of her shorts, ghosting over her lower stomach and inner thighs before finding her so very wet pussy.
A light gasp escaped her lips at the feeling of her own cold fingertips ghosting over her wet folds. How she wishes it was you. How she imagined it was you right behind her with your hand playing with her sensitive tit while the other teased her cunt. Her other hand lightly squeezed her small breast, running over the nipple with her thumb as her other began to tease her hole.
She opened her glimmering pink eyes and let go off her tit before taking the picture you had left there, while she dipped her fingers into her cunt. Jinx couldnt remember the last time she was so desperate. All she wanted was to feel you instead of her own touch, her mine racing with the praises you would call. As her already wet fingers began to lightly circle her clit, another light groan left her lips. Until she heard the light sound of footsteps over the metallic bridge of her hideout.
Her body jerked up, hand moving out her pants while still coated in her juices as she finally caught you...sneaking up on her? There was no doubt - you had caught her trying to make herself feel good, with the sweet smile on your lips but the flushed cheeks while looking at her. "Am I interrupting?" You asked in a soft tone, just walking up closer until you stood between your girlfriends spread legs. Your smile only widened into a smirk when you caught your 'little surprise' in Jinx hands.
The blue haired felt embarrassed, to say the least. But also she didnt care. You were there, your shift had ended and everything was okay for now. Except for how fucking wet she still was. "No" She responded, tone low and raspy. "You came just right." Her hands wrapped themselves around your waist to pull you closer, almost shoving you into her face as she looked up at you with puppy eyes. "I cant do it without you, toots"
This sucks lowkey but currently I feel like writing domestic fluff with her lol
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bread-crum206 · 18 hours ago
Text
A Game of Hearts
Chapter three: A Stormy Prison
Summary: Y/N’s father is a VIP for the games, he makes a deal with the Frontman that if he marries his only daughter that he will continue to sponsor the games. However, Y/N is not fond of this decision as she loathes the games and in turn, loathes the Frontman as well. Will she grow to love him? Will he let his walls down?
Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3 Pt 4 Pt 5
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When you woke the next morning, the other side of the bed was empty. Only the faint indentation of his body and lingering warmth remained, a ghostly reminder that he had been there at all.
You stared at the disheveled sheets, the blankets tangled on the floor from your restless sleep. The hollow ache of exhaustion clung to your limbs as you swung your legs over the edge of the bed and stretched, wincing as your muscles protested.
The cool marble tiles sent a chill up your spine as you padded toward the bathroom. You caught sight of your reflection in the mirror—tired, worn down, dark circles blooming under your eyes.
You let out a low grunt, running a hand down your face. “This marriage is going to kill me,” you muttered, rubbing at your eyes with cold fingers in a futile attempt to wake yourself up.
Still in your pajamas, you shuffled toward the kitchen, the cold seeping into your feet. The vast, modern space greeted you with gleaming stainless steel and muted tones of black and white—so sterile it felt lifeless. Even the sharp lines and sleek marble failed to distract from the suffocating emptiness.
You poured yourself a large cup of coffee and carried it into the sitting room, seeking the comfort of the massive floor-to-ceiling windows. The rain outside streaked the glass, casting long shadows across the room as you watched the storm churn over the horizon. The sight of crashing waves against jagged rocks should have been calming—wild, free—but here, it was nothing more than another reminder of your confinement.
Something caught your eye. A black envelope lay on the table, tied with a pink bow so neatly that it almost seemed mocking.
You approached cautiously, setting your coffee aside. Your fingers trembled as you slipped the bow loose and unfolded the thick, expensive paper inside.
Dear Y/N,
I wanted to make you aware that as the new month begins, so do the next games. The search for players will begin tomorrow. As the Frontman’s wife, you are responsible for ensuring the VIPs are comfortable upon their arrival for the third game and beyond. I trust you will exceed expectations and meet their needs accordingly.
Frontman
Your stomach twisted as you reread the letter. The cold formality stung more than you expected—there was no warmth, no personal touch, just a command disguised as a trustful obligation.
You muttered bitterly, “He barely speaks to me in person, but now I’m supposed to cater to murderous sociopaths?”
Frustration burned under your skin, but the anger simmered into unease. Defying him wasn’t an option, and you didn’t want to know what would happen if you failed.
———————
You wandered the sitting room, pacing back and forth as if movement could quiet the storm in your mind. Every thought circled back to the letter, to the looming responsibility you hadn’t agreed to, to the husband who you rarely interacted with.
The storm outside raged, casting shadows across the room. The view from the massive windows should have brought peace, with its dramatic cliffs and sprawling sea, but instead, it felt like a boundary. Beyond it was a world you would never touch.
The sky darkened slowly, the colors shifting from bruised purples to deep indigos as the last rays of sunlight slipped below the horizon. You lingered by the glass, your hand pressed to its cold surface.
You missed freedom.
Solemnly, you remembered driving late at night with friends, the windows down, music blaring as laughter filled the air. Convenience store snacks, city lights blurring past, the simple thrill of existing in a world without chains.
You blinked back the ache that settled in your chest. Here, you weren’t living. You were surviving.
No matter your words to him last night about how you weren’t one of his contestants, you sure felt like one.
Hours later, your eyes finally felt heavy with sleep. You trudged to the bedroom, yawning as you tugged at your sleeves. You had worn the same pajamas all day, and for a moment, you debated whether to bother changing.
A strange thought surfaced—what would he think if he noticed?
You shook your head, scowling. “Why should I care?”
But you did.
With a huff, you peeled off your clothes, pulling on something fresh before slipping into bed. The sheets were cool against your skin, and the weight of the blankets provided a fleeting comfort as your eyes grew heavy.
You didn’t stir when he returned.
The door clicked softly as he entered, his heavy steps faltering for a moment as he saw you peacefully in bed before he resumed.
He removed his boots with a clatter, the sound sharp against the stillness. The mask followed, placed carefully on the nightstand, a hollow, impassive face staring into nothing.
His jacket crumpled into a forgotten heap on the floor.
The bed creaked as he collapsed onto it, exhaustion dragging him under before his head fully hit the pillow.
Neither of you spoke. Neither of you reached across the space between you.
And yet, in the quiet darkness, you both lay beneath the same roof, trapped by circumstance.
———————
Alright that is the third chapter! I’m wondering if I should make this a large series? Let me know what you think! :)
Tag list:
@sunny21200
@lucinda-reads
@shakysif
@whoisbriannaa
@allmylovegoestomusic
@swthrtbyeol
@strawberrychita
@hoddystark
@livelaughcelica
@foulbreadpaenut
@write-from-the-heart
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sturnlsstuff · 1 day ago
Text
FAMILIAR STRANGER | last chapter
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what's gonna happen when you find out about your enemy's biggest secret?
ghostface!chris x enemy!reader
chapter seven
— warnings: smut with plot, dom!chris, sub!reader, making out, unprotected p in v, riding, creampie, mentions of murder, cursing, pet names, - english isn't my first language!!
~~~
you weren't a person who could get easily scared. always being able to watch horror movies with your friends completely unbothered, making them all amused at how calmly you sat through the entire thing. you weren't afraid of the dark, ghosts and other things like that. there was nothing that could make you jump out of fear. the only person who sometimes scared you was your ex, but he's gone now so technically you should be living a peaceful life.
but the moment you opened the door and he stormed inside, your heart was beating faster than ever before. it was that guy from the party who was flirting with you and were friends with jake. and now you were alone with him in your apartment for almost ten minutes, not being able to get rid of him. to put some distance between the two of you, you found yourself on one side of the kitchen island, ready to defend yourself if necessary, and he was on the other.
"i wonder..." he speaks up again. he hasn't said anything important yet, except that he won't leave until he finds out the truth. you didn't know what he was talking about. "-- how was it possible that you were able to face jake? he was always stronger than you and he definitely wouldn't let some whore like you kill him. so how did you do it?"
"what?" your breath hitches in your throat at the mention of jake and him being dead. "what are you talking about?"
"don't play fucking dumb with me," he walks around your kitchen like he owns the place. "you had so many reasons to kill him."
"yes i had," you admit. "but i didn't kill him. and honestly? i regret that it wasn't me." he stops, giving you a quick glance and clicking his tongue against his teeth, "bold."
"true."
"you're really brave, huh?" he raises his eyebrow, "or stupid."
"you're stupid coming here and throwing suspicions left and right without any good basis."
"oh, i have a lot," he leans on his elbows on the kitchen island, looking directly into your eyes. "jake accused you of cheating and made everyone know what a whore you are, then recorded the video he was going to post but didn't manage to. it probably pissed you off really bad, didn't it? his phone also disappeared, the cops didn't find it. who else knew about it? only you..." he remains silent for a moment letting his words sink in. "-- and sturniolo."
something shifts in the air, you feel your ears ring at the mention of that name. you could bear the accusations against yourself, but against him? it was too close to the truth. at that moment you realized that this might end up bad.
"ahh, did i get it right?" he notices your expression, a grin appears on his face that didn't reach his eyes. "wait, oh shit," he chuckles, shaking his head. "maybe you cheated on jake with chris and your new little boyfriend didn't like how it could ruin his reputation? you know he likes to bang a different girl every weekend. so was it him that killed him? and you two threw suspicion on that ghostface killer? spill the tea, c'mon. unless..." a frown appears between his eyebrows, something in his gaze changes. "unless, it's him. he's the ghostface? wait, holy fuck-"
"you don't know shit–" you cut him off, the wave of nausea washes over you. "it's not true–"
"oh, i'm pretty fucking sure it is," he retors. "that would make more sense, you wouldn't be able to fight jake on your own. so what, you're dating a psychopath? i mean, you must be pretty fucking insane yourself..."
"the only psychopath i dated was jake, so shut the fuck up," you say annoyed, adrenaline rushing through your veins. you didn't like him talking about chris like that.
"so it's true, huh? chris is the ghostface? and you know about it? what's the reason? i thought you hate him..." he tilts his head to the side, thinking. everyone knew that you and chris dislike eachother, so he was pretty fucking confused. "maybe you let him fuck you? must be good if you keep silent about him killing people—"
"shut the fuck up," you snap at him again, feeling the blood drain from your face as his words really hit like a kick to the gut. you tried not to think about why you really don't want to tell anyone about what you found out about chris. however, now this situation has triggered emotions in you that you has been pushing aside until now.
he walks around the kitchen island towards you immediately causing you to step back putting some distance between you two. he could sensed your nervousness which made him feel like he was better than you, determined to take revenge, thinking he had it all figured out.
"i'm gonna ruin you two. you won't have a life in this town once everyone finds out about what you and your boyfriend—"
"he's not my boyfriend—"
"great, so you're just admitting to being a whore," he has you backing out against the wall. "i will get proof and once i do, you two are done."
even though you felt it in your bones that it would be the best to stay quiet this time, your personality won and before you could stop yourself, you blurted out, "if you make it."
you thought that your words would somehow discourage him, that maybe you two would be able to come to an agreement, but he just smiled as if he had just won the lottery. like he was waiting for you to say something like that. then he pulled his phone out of his pocket and waved it in your face, "i forgot to tell you, it's recording. so i in fact made it, you basically admitted to everything." he takes a few steps back, looking at your shocked expression with satisfaction. "he will be the one who won't make it. i'll go to the cops before sturniolo comes at me, then he'll get what he deserves. along with you."
he slowly backs out of your kitchen, leaving you with pounding heart, wanting to scream to stop him somehow, not believing that this was happening, but your body was glued to the floor.
he adds, "in jail you won't get the same cell so he won't be able to fuck you anymore. must suck, hm?" and with a big grin on his face, he leaves your apartment, the tension in the air making your head spin.
it took you about five minutes to even understand what had happened and how dangerous it was for chris. you didn't think at all about the consequences for you, you didn't think about anything other than to make sure he won't get caught. you feel the urge to protect him but don't know how. this guy has already left and there's not much you could do.
on shaky like jelly legs you ran to your room, finding your phone and staring to call chris. he didn't answer. you left him twenty messages, called him fifteen times, and he didn't answer.
you felt as if the walls in your room suddenly began to close in, squeezing you between them. you couldn't catch your breath, your heart was pounding as you keep pacing around the room, calling chris over and over again, but all you could hear was his voicemail. you even called matt, but he didn't answer either, which made you even more nervous. your palms were sweating as you texted chris again, trying not to panic, knowing that he definitely wouldn't get caught that easily, but the anxiety was making your intrusive thoughts overpower the logic.
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you were sending messages like in a trance, trying to explain to chris that you didn't want to do what you did, your messages so chaotic that even if he read them, it would be difficult to understand anything. however, the silence continued, the minutes lengthened, giving the impression of hours, your stomach twisting in knots. it felt like forever. you wanted to go to the triplets' house to see what was happening, but at the same time the uncertainty that you would somehow make everything worse was making you hold back for almost an hour. though after overthinking every options you had, you found yourself pulling on your shoes and opening the front door ready to storm out of your apartment, but instead bumping into someone's body.
the person was quick to push you back inside, locking the door behind you two. your wide eyes look up, the ghostface mask right in front of you, causing a wave of heat and relief to wash over you.
"chris—"
he cuts you off with his mask flipping upwards and pressing his lips to yours, making your breath hitch in your throat. but before you can do anything, chris pulls away and whispers against your lips, his breath mingling with yours, "just shut up. don' say anythin', yeah? just..." he sighs and kisses you again, but you put your hands on his chest to push him away gently. "i called you so many times, we need to—"
"everything's fine just stop talkin'..." he leans in again, but you turn your head slightly causing his lips to brush against your cheek. he let's out a quiet groan in disapproval, though it doesn't discourage him and instead he leans down to trail kisses down your neck. "did you see my messages? this guy from that party a few weeks ago, he was here and just... i didn't mean to say anything and i didn't really told him much, but i think i accidentally... oh- shit, uh, i think.... i— c-chris wait—"
but chris didn't care. his senses were filled with your scent, his heart was pounding in his chest. he already had you pressed against the wall, sucking and biting on your skin, marking you. his gloved hands roaming all over your body, grabbing your ass and lifting you off the floor, your legs and arms automatically wrapping around him to keep from falling. "s'all good, ma, i promise..." he mutters against your skin, hands moving under your shirt.
"but— what happened, did he... did you—"
"i was faster than him."
"but how—"
"i said is fine," chris lifts his head up meeting with your confusion. "you trust me or what? 'cause you gotta. at least in this case." he waited in tense silence until you nodded, his eyes sparkling. "good. now can ya stop interrupting and lemme do what i wanna do?"
"god, you're annoying..."
there was no way you could stay focused when he immediately started working you up, not only with kisses but also with how he was dressed up. the fact that whenever he was around you as a ghostface was turning you on more than it should've, was a bit embarassing, but you couldn't control your emotions. that's why you dropped the topic for now, letting him do whatever he wanted.
you don't even know at what point you're lying flat on the bed, your and chris's clothes tangled somewhere on the floor. he was teasing you, his lips kissing down your chest, his tip brushing against your core through the material of your red lace panties. a wet stain visible through the fabric, his dick throbbing at the sight.
"always sooo eager f'me...." he mutters, smirking against your skin and looking up at you. "ya sure you hate me?"
"i'll hate you more if you keep playing with me," you respond slightly breathless from the make out session from a moment ago and the desire overpowering your body.
"aww, is that so?" he lifts his head up to your level, tilting it to the side and balancing himself on his hands on each side of your head. "and what'cha want, hm? my mouth? fingers? my dick?"
you give him a look, annoyed that he's messing with you knowing full well what you want, but at the same time it gets you even more aroused. you would never admit it and it was very out of character for you but when he had you at his mercy, it was only making you more turned on.
"just fuck me—" after he raises his eyebrows amused, clearly waiting for something more, you add, "please."
"thereeee ya go, princess." he slides your panties down your legs, settling between them and giving himself a few strokes. he slowly pushes inside, taking his time on purpose to torture you just a little more since he loved hearing you beg for it. "chris, please, more..." you whine, chewing on your plump bottom lip, getting a smirk in response.
"y'know..." he whispers into your ear. "-- you're the only one i ever want to fuck like this."
"like— like this...? what— oh! uh, what does that... mean?" you stutter when he pulls almost all the way back and then moves his hips forward again, going deeper.
"i mean..." his thrusts picking up speed and force as he settles into a steady rhythm, already making your vision to go blurry. "like, i wanna fuck you so rough, you'd forget how to walk—" he pounds into you almost to prove a point, your bodies slapping together loudly. "but also, sometimes— fuckkk, sometimes... i wanna take it slow and all nice and shit— but i can't fuckin'... decide. not when you look and sound like this—" his words followed by a groan when he feels you clenching around him. he looks at you, the corner of his mouth twitching with amusement. "is this makin' you fuckin' cum already?"
"what? n-no— mmmm, fuck!" embarrassment was all you could feel, when the knot in your stomach was quickly growing, making your legs tremble because of how hard you tried to hold back. chris let's out a low chuckle and wraps his lips around your hardening nipple, his tongue swirling around it what sends vibrations straight to your throbbing cunt.
he barely started and you already felt the pleasure overwhelming you, his words affecting you more than you would like to admit. you don't know if he understood how intimate that sounded and if it meant the same to him as it did to you, but it was enough to turn you into a moaning mess.
"c'mon, don't hold back, is fine... actually hot as fuck how fast i can make ya come— mhmm, thaaaat's right..." he pulls away from your breast with a pop, his breath catches as he feels your muscles tightening around him. he licks his lips watching as your expression turns into a full, clear pleasure. you're pathetically fast to let euphoria consume you, your tight heat sucking him in. "fuckkk, milkin' me so well—"
"chris—" you whimper as he fucks you through your orgasm, not even going to slow down, loving the effect he has on you and how you let him have such control over your body.
"shh— m'not done yet and.... we won't be for a while—" he captures your lips into a kind of demanding, but somehow gentle kiss, his tongue pushing into your mouth as he continues to fill you over and over again. "fuck, you always take me so deep..." he mutters against your lips.
for you, it felt like being on another planet. not being able to understand how it works that chris made you feel things you couldn't normally feel, not only physically but also... emotionally. you were embarrassed, but too caught up in how good it felt to worry about it yet.
"see, i can't control myself around you 'n this shit is— pissin'— me off—" a choaked moan leaves his lips when he punctuates his words with deep thrusts, hitting your g-spot perfectly.
"oh my— feels so good, chris, please—"
"didn't fuck you for almost two weeks and it felt like a fuckin' nightmare—" your long manicured nails digging into his back, marking him just as he did with the hickeys on your skin before. it only spurred him on, his cock throbs deep inside you. "holy fuck, i love this pussy..." he pulls back slightly, grabbing your ankles and placing them on his shoulders, folding you nearly in half. the new angle lets him pierce even deeper, stealing a muffled scream from you.
despite the fact that you were practically in heaven right now, you were still yourself and couldn't help, but mutter proudly, "i know."
he smirks, "that attitude... fuck— y'know, i missed your smart mouth too... gonna use it to tell me how well m'fuckin' you right now?" when you're unable to respond because of the constant moans escaping your mouth, he reaches with one hand for the ghostface mask that was lying next to you, and puts it on with a shake of his head. "maybe this gonna make you fuckin' scream more—"
"oh— chris...fu—ckk..." your eyes widen as you see him, not understanding how it works and why does it have such an effect for you only with him, but your pussy immediately start to tighten around his cock again.
"shit, ya really love this, hm? that's so— hot—" with your legs on his shoulders, chris is able to drill into you even deeper, his balls slapping loudly against your ass with each thrust. "but i'll stop if you... fuck— if you don't tell me how good it feels—"
"so good!" your eyes roll back as you keep talking with a shaky voice, "no one can do it better..."
"no shit," his pace quickens knowing you're about to reach another peak, the bed creaking beneath the two of you. "-- no one can and no one fuckin' will."
"chris, m'so close—"
"oh, this is really workin' on ya, huh?" he grins under the mask, groaning at the way you looked right now. he wants to see you like this every day.
your thighs quiver on his shoulders as you try to accommodate his relentless thrusts. he notices your closed eyes, his grip on your hips tightening, "eyes on me— yeaaah, look at me while i make you fall apart on my dick— no one else's.... fuckkkkk—" his own orgasm building up rapidly as he pounds into you, your eyes open again, locked onto his ghostface mask just as the waves are crashing brutally over your body, getting you creaming around him. "fuck, look at that... how fuckin' g-good— shiiit— how good y'look..." a low moan escapes him as you're coming apart beneath him, sending chris spiraling over the edge. "fuck, gonna fill this pussy up so full..."
"mhhph, soo... full–" you repeat after him, squirming around on the mattress, trying your hardest to keep your eyes open. he buries himself balls-deep one final time, a guttural groan tearing from his throat as he floods your spasming pussy with his hot seed.
sated, chris collapses forward, propping himself on his hands and keeping most of his weight off you. both of you panting, your legs falling down from his shoulders onto the mattress. he knows how obsessed you are with the ghostface mask but his obsession with feeling your lips on his is bigger, so he takes it off and leans down to kiss you. it wasn't heated and hungry like previous make-out sessions, for you it felt almost... sweet. can't help but wonder if chris felt it too.
he's first to break the kiss, his messy hair slightly falling into his eyes. after pulling out, he lays down next to you, you both staying quiet for a moment, his thoughts clearly occupied with something while you tried to come back to your senses, after not only the intensity of your orgasms, but the realization that he didn't kiss you after sex before.
after clearing his throat, he's first to speak up, "i thought you snitched on me for a moment." it catches you off guard, but he continues, "i got a text from that idiot saying that he knows everything and that you were the one to tell him. i believed at first," he admits. "but then he said he knows it was me and you who killed jake, that's how i knew he's bluffin'. and i remembered what y'told me when you... y'know, had that fever a few days ago—"
he gives you a quick glance, having your full attention so he keeps going, "you probably don't remember, but you said that you wouldn't say anything 'bout me being the ghostface 'cause you can be the only one—"
"--to ruin your life." his eyes snap to you with surprise at the interruption. "if someone else do this, where's my satisfaction in that?" you repeat your words, fully remembering saying this because you meant it.
"yeah—" staring at each other for too long, he finally breaks it and speaks again. "yeah, uh, so i remembered your words and i was like there's no way you'd just do that. i was gonna talk to you first, but i found him leaving your apartment and that fuckin' pissed me off so i came after him and— y'know. he spilled everything, what he knew, what he told ya, that he was recordin' your conversation... already took care of this too," he says catching on as you're about to ask about this. "so you good, no need to worry 'bout shit."
you nod, relieved that chris knew that you kept your mouth shut, and only unintentionally said something that led this guy to the fact that chris is the ghostface killer. "m'glad you didn't say shit 'cause it'd make me—" he's about to say angry, pissed of, but he knows better than that. he would actually get his heart stabbed if you decided to betray him. "-- upset."
"upset?" your eyebrow raises as you try to process his words. he immediately rolls his eyes, trying to play it off, "yeah, no big deal, just sayin'."
"pretty big deal to me," you respond. knowing chris and how closed off he was half of his life, how you never saw him sad, hearing him saying he'd be upset if you decided to snitch on him meant more than it should've.
"a'ight, shut up..." he mutters, shifting on his side so he could see your face better. "what m'tryin' to say is, everything's fine and this guy won't bother you again. actually no one fuckin' will..." he smirks, "besides me, of course. 'cause if someone else do this, where's my satisfaction in that?"
trying so hard to bite back a smile, but you can't help it when he just simply repeats your words. now you roll your eyes, "what, gonna be my bodyguard now?"
"more like a guardian angel," he matches your sarcastic tone, getting a stare from you. "angel? you? are you even hearing yourself?"
"oh yeah, pretty fuckin' clear too."
you hum, but the smile stays on your face. remembering about something, you sit up and without even realizing it, you put on his shirt, which reached halfway down your thigh. but chris notices it, and not only does he almost immediately become hard again at seeing you in something that was his, but he also feels a warmth spreading across his chest, as if desire was mixed with something else he couldn't quite name.
you are looking for something in the desk and then come back to the bed, siting down and giving him jake's phone that chris left you on that unforgettable day for you. his expression questioning you so you explain, "i don't want anything that's his. don't want that pathetic apology or anything else, just need to be free from him. take it back and break or something, i don't really care."
he raises his eyebrows, but nods without putting a fight and grabs the phone, putting it aside. the fact that he was still naked distracts you, but he doesn't seem to care at all, so you reach for the mask, running your fingers over its features to distract yourself. there's so many things swirling in your head that you wanted to ask him about out of curiosity, but you knew you had to be careful with him. chris can switch really fast, starting to ignore you or even leave. that's why you think about what you can ask and what you can't so as not to scare him away. "why did you decide to start doing it? you know, killing people isn't exactly... i don't know—"
"men," he corrected you, but there's no usual bite in his tone. "killin' men. couldn't stand the fact how annoyin' they are 'bout everything, thinking they're the one in control, doing with women what they please."
"isn't this what you're doing though?" you blurt out, quickly looking at him, immediately regretting how it sounded. "i mean, like, you fuck girls all the time and don't care about anything."
"yeah, never said i ain't a hypocrite," he agrees smirking. "but i told ya already, i always keep things straight from the beginning. the girls i'm sleepin' with know it's only a hookup." you bite your tongue not to ask why he didn't tell you the same thing at the beginning, but you remember how he reacted when you asked him about it the other day. chris notices your expression, "c'mon, say it. since when you hold back? where's that badass spirit?" he playfully nudges your arm.
you roll your eyes, looking back at the mask, "you didn't tell me we're only fucking. i mean, i know, but what if i didn't? and you act sooo respectful to women out of sudden—"
"okay now, i ain't exactly a perfect gentleman and i know that, i'm not tryna look like one. but i also have my rules, y'know..." his tongue clicks against his teeth as he thinks. "i didn't tell you, 'cause i wasn't expecting us to just fuck then 'n i didn't really could focus on thinkin', when i had you on my desk like this—" his smirk widen after the glare you give him, he notices the blush creeping up your cheeks, adding it to his lists of how many times he made you do it already.
"okay, what about after?"
"i don't know, is not a big deal, like what do y'want me to say? i thought it's clear we only fuck."
"it is," a frown appears between your eyebrows. "actually not really. why did you help me when i was sick? did you even come to my place to hookup again?"
this question makes irritation slowly start to take over chris's body, the territory you entered was dangerous and the shift in the air was clear. felt like you were on thin ice, though you just had to know.
he's quiet for a moment, seeming to have ignored your question, but his brain was racing. ever since he had that conversation with matt, it was all he could think about for the past few days. he didn't care about anyone except his brothers, but you are making him feel complicated emotions.
just when you're about to tell him to forget about the question, thinking he won't answer, he speaks up. "i told you, i thought you're ignoring me and i don't like when people do that shit." his tone too casual, chris clearly failing at trying to play this cool. "i saw you feelin' that bad and... like, i know you think i'm the biggest asshole ever and probably it's true, but leaving you with that big ass fever would be just insane even f'me."
he couldn't admit that he cared a little about the state he found you in that day. he couldn't let you figure him out like matt did.
"okay, but you didn't have to let me be all over you."
you tried to forget how it felt, even though it all seemed like a fever dream, you knew it was real. you were practically glued to him and felt a little confused when you thought about it, knowing how nice it was, even though neither of you were the type to cuddle.
"what'd you wan' me to do?" he raises his eyebrows, but his cheeks turn a light shade of pink, which makes your eyes widen. this man doesn't blush like ever. "push you off your own couch? nah, got some manners, y'know."
"oh really?"
"yeah."
"so you didn't enjoy it even a liiittle bit?"
"you'd want me to?" he's fully convinced you will disagree.
"and if i say yes? then what?"
he clicks his tongue against his teeth, his blue eyes slightly darkening with... lust, perhaps? and something more. "then we have a problem." he grabs your wrist, pulling you on top so that you were straddling him, his hands resting on your thighs, which causes your stomach to flip.
"and why's that?"
"'cause maybe i want you to want me to enjoy it."
"what a good play on words."
"yeah, m'good at that."
"what else you good at?"
he narrows his eyes, gripping your hips and almost urging you to rub against his half-hard dick, stealing a quiet whimper from you. "i think you already know."
"maybe i need a reminder–"
"what a greedy girl," he smirks, pulling you into a kiss, his tongue sliding against yours. you already feel yourself getting turned on again, now moving your hips on your own. "and it wasn't even twenty minutes..." he mutters against your lips proud of the effect he has on you.
"shut up..." you keep grinding down against him until he gets fully hard again, a groan leaving his lips. he asks out of sudden, "you wanna keep doing that? hookin' up?"
"we shouldn't," you answer, positioning yourself above him, teasing you both with running his tip along your sticky folds.
"yeah, but m'askin' if you wanna, not if we should—" he grabs your wrist to stop you from taking off the shirt. "so?"
you know it's not a good idea, but you nod against your own logic. "yeah, i want to."
"good. now keep the shirt on, and— put this on too.." he points to the ghostface mask you still had in your hand, remembering how the last time he told you to put it on, he almost went crazy. you don't think twice and do what he said, at the same moment sinking down onto his dick, your gummy walls immediately wrapping around him. chris was obsessed with the way you looked in his shirt and mask, on top of him. it almost makes him cum right then and there. "shiit, you're so sexy—"
you respond with a moan, starting to move your hips slowly, "you sure you hate me?" a smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth as you repeat his question from earlier. he grips your hips tightly, savoring the feeling of being inside your heat again. "didn't decide yet," he retorts sarcastically, as you quickened your pace, leaning back a little to put your hands on his thighs for some balance.
he watches how you ride him, his brain racing with thoughts but he decides to say a little more, the way you're on top of him makes him relax and less embarrassed to talk about such things. "i really couldn't stand the thought of you ignorin' me— fuck, that's why, i, uh— came to your place to check if we good—"
"i wasn't ignoring you..."
"i know," he nods, thrusting up to meet your movements, causing you to see stars. "but i'd care if you did—" your heart swells at his admission and it only makes you want him to feel so good, that he won't ever need anyone else to satisfy him. "fuck, y'look so pretty like this— even hotter in this fuckin' mask, holy shittt—"
"you need to trust me that i won't tell— mmhpp, oh my— f-fuckk, that i... won't tell anyone about your secret..."
"mhm, i know this now," he nods, fucking up into you harder, the pressure building up until he thinks he might lose his damn mind. "fuck, you're squeezin' me so tight—" he groans, his fingers digging into your ass and hips as he tries to hold on. "oh my god chris—" you whine and moan, legs starting to hurt from the hard and fast pace you're keeping, but you don't care at all.
"y'know, i think i decided 'bout the hate thing..." his hips bucking upward, taking over the control when you lean forward, propping yourself on your hands on either side of his head. he can't believe how hot you look in that ghostface mask. "might tolerate you a little more from now."
"y-yeah?" you start clenching around him, getting a hiss from him as he tries to find relief from the torturous tightness.
"fuck, y'hurt so good—"
you smile under the mask, eyes rolling back as you feel your orgasm building up. "see i think that i tolerate you n-now as well— oh!"
"thaaat's it, gorgeous, holy fuck," he purrs, your entire body shake as you come apart on top of him, your inner walls clamping down on his dick in a vice-like grip. it's too much, and he let's out a feral groan as he buries himself inside you and explodes, his release so intense it leaves his vision go blurry.
after riding out both of your highs, you slowly get off him, taking off the mask as well. his eyes are still closed, almost like he didn't want to see your reaction to what he's about to do. feeling you want to pull away, he wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you into his side so that your head rests on his shoulder. shock washes over you, not expecting him to do something like this, though you're fast to tell yourself that maybe it's just post orgasm bliss. but when your eyes meet, there's a new warmth in his gaze, a tenderness that contrasts with the way he always looked at you before.
"not good at cuddlin' 'n shit, but i guess y'gonna teach me now, huh?" he tried to maintain his sarcastic tone, but couldn't help and genuinely smile.
relaxing in his arms, his grin is getting to you making you smile like a fool as well. "we have a problem, because i'm not that good at this either."
"good. then we gonna learn together."
neither of you slept that night, too busy with each other. you couldn't stop that feeling in your chest, those butterflies. and it was so weird, so out of character for the two of you.
it felt as if you were some familiar strangers.
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a/n: oh my god 😭😭😭 my babies 😭 thank you guys sm for all the love for this series and for me as well, i appreciate it soooo much !! i had a blast writing this story 🤍 i'll still be taking requests about ghostface!chris if anyone has some just lmk, i'd love to write some oneshots about him!!
taglist: @certifiedstarrr @chrislovespepsi @le4hsblog @sturnsxbitvh @sweetlikesug4rvenom @xaristhings @mattsfavbitchhh @lvrsturniolo @r0s3luvr @slut4brunettes @madisonsturnioloss @chrispillowprincess @sturnioloslutttt4 @ashlishes @mattsbitchh @hi-people-who-are-alive @stellward123 @inssanely @matts-girlfriend @imnotalive420 @emely9274 @shadowthesim @yunkilm @sophiaxsblog @namelesssav @demyackerman @fratbrochrisgf @lvrsturniolo @chrisweetheart @chrisfavoritewhore @sturnslutz @ncm9696 @certified-sturniolo @mattsobvimyfav @swagalicious260 @giannalovessturniolo @sophand4n4 @brazyturtleneck @jocelyncsblog @sophand4n4 @giannalovessturniolo @alesturniolos @ilovenmcs
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uchispeach · 2 days ago
Text
Killer
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Dark! Bully! Rafe Cameron x Fem! Reader
Warnings: NON CON, SMUT, rough sex, manhandling & degradation, choking, breeding kink, bullying, violent & abusive behavior, Mean! Rafe, Bully! Rafe…
A/N: Sorry for disappearing, I’ve just had a shit ton of family problems. I hope I can update a bit faster from now on! ALSO lmk if you want this to become a series! 💕
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A laugh, dripping with mockery, echoed through the vast room, sparking a ripple of chuckles and whispered insults from the nearby group of boys.
Rafe Cameron’s body stretched lazily in the chair, making it seem almost comically small under his heavy frame. Even with his limbs sprawled out in complete relaxation, the outline of his hard muscles pressed against his shirt, as if daring to break free at any moment. You couldn't deny he looked attractive, exuding an undeniable magnetism in that confident, almost predatory pose, his new buzz cut only amplifying the arrogance that oozed from him. But that ugly, smug smirk? It made your bones ache and your throat dry up in ways you couldn’t explain.
His eyes, the color of storm clouds, lingered on yours with a deliberate intensity, delighting in your discomfort, relishing in every flinch and subtle shift of your gaze. You turned away, hoping your disinterest would bore him eventually, but you knew it wouldn’t.
No matter how hard you focused on the lecture, his presence was like an intrusive, constant drill on your brain—his burning gaze a distraction that gnawed at your senses. How naive had you been to think he'd ever leave you alone? Every time you raised your hand in class, you could count on him to whisper some stupid joke under his breath. How foolish had you been to think he would ever stop tormenting you? This sick dynamic between you two had been a game since childhood, and if anything, he seemed to thrive on it.
His once-small fingers had grown long and strong -now covered in silver rings. Those same digits that used to tangle on your hair and pull from it until your scalp burned in pain. His legs were now far longer, but they had always been longer than yours, outpacing you as they chased you through the school halls in all infant and adolescent years, always with the aim of making you stumble and fall to your knees. But his mouth had never changed. It had only sharpened, evolving into something far more dangerous.
You’d convinced yourself you were above all of it. Charleston had felt like a fresh start, and you’d thought the Pogue curse might finally be something you could outrun. But when Rafe Cameron showed up once more, everything you’d built: your confidence, your peace of mind—began to crumble, piece by piece, until there was nothing left but the raw, unresolved tension between you.
You were studying to be a teacher, the first in your family to receive a scholarship that promised a brighter future. Your days were filled with lesson plans, textbooks, and the weight of academic expectation. Every second of your time was accounted for as you worked tirelessly to carve out a new path for yourself, one that didn't involve being brought back to the past or the memories of him. You didn’t have time for distractions, certainly not for him. But here he was, always lurking just at the edges of your life, a dark cloud you couldn’t escape.
Rafe was studying for an MBA, the complete opposite of you, and yet fate had forced you into a shared class. You would’ve done anything to avoid him, but trapped in between those fours walls, mere meters away from him - it just seemed impossible.
And there he was, at your left, staring with a look of sick pleasure every time he found you trying to focus. His presence was suffocating, like the air itself became dense with his attention. His words, the snide remarks whispered under his breath, were like a weight on your chest, making every breath harder to take.
He harassed you constantly in that class—every. single. time. Without fail. No matter how much you tried to bury yourself in your notes, no matter how hard you tried to ignore his mocking chuckles, his eyes always found you, always zeroed in on your every move. He’d challenge you with pointless questions, make stupid comments about your work, his voice dripping with condescension. But it didn’t stop there. His reach extended beyond the classroom, following you into the hallways, his tall frame casting a shadow that would make your stomach turn. He would appear out of nowhere, as though drawn to you by some sick fixation, and make his presence known with a smirk or a taunt, forcing you to look up from your books, to meet those stormy eyes full of wickedness.
He would ‘accidentally’ bump into you, making your school supplies fall over. He licked his lower lip when you bent over to pick the mess up. His front would get dangerously close to your back in any queue, sometimes getting bold enough to grind slightly against you. He would move you around like a rag doll, always putting his huge palm on your ass to push you to the side. Still, there was nothing as uncomfortable as having his dirty eyes scanning you from head to toe at any given time - he licked his lower lip in amusement, making your cheeks grow hotter.
You’d always hoped, prayed, that once the class ended, he’d disappear—vanish into his own world and leave you to yours. But you were wrong. Every time the teacher dismissed you, and you gathered your things to leave, he’d be right there, waiting. It was like clockwork. His long, strong fingers would slide into the pockets of navy trousers, the scent of his manly cologne wafting over you in an intoxicating way. His gaze would follow you as you tried to make a clumsy exit, his footsteps closing the distance between you with every passing second. You hated that you could never outrun him. Hated how he always found a way to corner you.
And just as you thought you might make it out of the door, safe, free—he’d appear at the threshold, standing in your way with that damn smirk of his, a look that seemed to promise nothing but trouble.
“Leaving so soon?” His voice would slither through the air like poison.
Your heart would pound in your chest, but you’d force your eyes to look anywhere but at him, hoping and praying, that maybe, just maybe, today would be the day he’d leave you alone. But you knew better. You always knew better.
And now, you could feel it again; the familiar pressure of his presence, creeping closer, dark and inevitable.
“What’s that I’ve heard?” He scratched his head while pressing his brows together, pretending to be deep in thought. “…Oh, right” Now, enlightened; he stepped forward. Your almost wobbly legs did their best on distancing themselves -though, they weren’t allowed much movement after hitting a desk.
The back of your knees stung against the protruding piece of wood. “You tryna leave…study abroad, right?” Your eyes peeled in horror, and you hid in yourself as much as you could when his tall frame overpowered yours. “No, no. Look me right in the eye.” He clicked his tongue in disapproval. Without any hesitation, his cold rings found their place under your chin, burying in your skin when lifting up your face. “How-how do you know?” Your stuttering made him smile -predatory grin adorning his harsh features. “Everyone thinks you’re smart…” The pain on your neck amplified at the uncomfortable position.
“…But I think you’re just a dumb bitch.” He spat at you. Tone as rough as the domineering grip on your jaw. “…Bragging left and right - you really thought I wouldn’t find out?” He shook you with erratic movement. The pain you felt under his digits distracted you from a perverted knee slowly opening its way between your legs.
His unruly eyes took a break from tormenting yours as he admired your skirt’s fabric draping over your thighs. The blond snob flashed you his hungry canines while biting into his lower lip.
The horror only amplified when a sharp thrust attacked your clothed sex. His impatient knee continued to roughly rub against the cotton underwear, cruelty reflected on the fast pace. “Ha. Would you look at that? The dirty slut is getting wet!” You whined in disgust when Rafe pressed harder on the soaked circle.
The scarce dignity you thought you held was harshly stripped from you. On his arms you were nothing but a squeaky toy he got to bite and squeeze whenever he desired, and little by little you felt victim to a raw resignation.
The next thing you sensed was his palm abandoning your neck and moving onto your meaty thighs. He gave the flesh a squeeze, followed by a lusty groan leaving his pinkish lips.
Your mind tried to wander away, but the situation was just too much; too much stimulation everywhere, too much heat coming from his larger body, too much degradation directed your way in mean words and touches, too much torturous pressure applied to your virgin cunt and too much pawing at your unexplored parts.
The next thing your brain registered was a rip. The sound of something being torn apart, and if you didn’t see the light fabric pooling around your feet, you could’ve almost swear it was the noise your spirit made when breaking in half. “And I was thinking about making it nice for you…fucking you on a bed of roses or some corny shit.” He talked with nothing but mockery, while leaning onto your chest. “But I guess you prefer it when I treat you like a cheap whore.” The Cameron boy finished it off with a chuckle, his muscles flexing hard under the rumbling laugh.
You wanted to contradict him, defend your honor and pull him off of you, but all protests got stuck in your throat when he took you by it and slammed your upper body against the desk. The rigid wood wasn’t welcoming. Your head spinned uncontrollably at the beast-like hit.
The lack of oxygen didn’t stop you from hearing him unbuckling his pants. Panic grew louder as you heard his clothes falling to the Classroom’s floor. Worries clouded you in a tumultuous storm, and you did your best to cover yourself up when the only layer covering your vulnerable hole was pushed to the side. “Open your fucking legs or I’ll break your useless skull!” He demanded in a crazied tone, ripping your limbs apart and throwing them over his shoulders.
“Please, don’t.” Your eyelids squeezed together, shielding your irises from looking at the violating scene. “That’s right, beg me” Warm breath imposed itself above your slit, followed by a warmer liquid dripping down your folds. “Gotta make it wetter…I don’t want you breaking at the first use.” Even though your sight was all black, you could imagine his satisfied grin decorating that diabolically handsome face.
You tried pulling away when a foreign limb rubbed against your sex, desperate to be let in. “Rafe, no-” You were cut short by your own screams, eyes peeled open at the feeling of his cock entering all at once.
“Fuck! Tight ass pussy.” He sounded in heaven, palms manhandling your knees to your chest while pounding ruthlessly into you.
The rest of your body went numb, being rocked up and down at the bestiality of the boy’s attack. His groans and moans overpowered your miserable sobs. Your withering form contrasted his blessed expressions, pure passion exuding from his now sweaty body.
“Your whorish cunt is squeezing the shit out of me…she doesn’t want me to leave!” He continued to talk while creating some deeply loud wet noises.
Your neck and waist’s skin burned under his cutting rings and the unsolicited friction of his grip that kept you still. Your ears got lost at the multiple pet names he called you, as well as the dirty sentences of encouragement he occasionally threw your way.
After almost an hour of feeling him impale you on his dick, you grew tired of screaming and crying, now reduced to quiet whimpers and even quieter pleas. “Stop-” He did the opposite to that, toned pelvis slapping hard against you as his tip bruised your cervix in persistent thrusts.
The cries that left your esophagus were now primal and raw, long nails holding onto his huge back. “That’s right, cry for me. You fucking deserve it!” That only made the tears fall faster down your cheeks, reaching your mouth on a salty taste.
And when his movements finally went sloppy and his member felt softer, your suffering only sharpened. “Tell me you love me” He barked at your face, drops of unintentional spit hitting your distressed face.
You thought you heard wrong, that between his chocking, and suffocating weight your brain had imagined the unimaginable. “Tell me you love me!” His features tensed, making a vein pop on his front.
Was Rafe Cameron asking for words of affirmation from you? Was the same guy who just butchered your purity asking you for your heart? Or was it just another inhumane prank? Another limit of yours he wanted to cross?
Clearly you took to much time thinking and not acting because the next thing you felt was the blond burying impossibly deeper into your core and making you know a new level of uncomfortability. “Tell me you fucking love or I’ll come inside you.” The light on the room was vast, you were sure of it. Such an elite university could only have the best illumination for its elitist students; still, his burly body completely covered yours.
His sharp jaw and eyes were enhanced by the darkness found in his stare. “I-” He trembled lightly in excitement at your shaky voice. “I love you.” You finally decreed, unknowingly sealing your fate.
His smile was like nothing you saw before, too devilish and twisted you actually doubted smiling was ever a nice gesture. And when you felt a dense liquid flooding your womb in overwhelming warmth, you swore you could see the devil in his eyes.
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sincerelyzee · 2 days ago
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established relationship | sylus x (assumed)fem!reader | phone sex | mutual masturbating | porn with some plot |
your boyfriend being the leader of onychinus was hard enough as is, only able to meet in the night. but, it was worse when you’d go weeks without seeing each other due to full schedules or trips.
sylus said he’d be able to see you around the end of this week - something he told you last week as well. now, you’re sat on your bed, phone pressed to your ear but it does nothing to conceal your frown from him.
“i know, sweetie. i thought i’d be back yesterday.. this trip is taking longer than expected.” he sighs into the microphone, the exhaustion laced deeply in his voice but he insists on calling you the nights he can’t come see you.
your end of the line stays quiet. truly, you have nothing to say about the matter; all you could do is cry but your tears would be useless since they won’t make him appear before you. so, you sit quietly in your disappointment with your phone pressed to your ear.
“sweetheart, let me see you.” his voice comes out soft, like a plea. like, seeing your sad face illuminated against his phone screen will ease the dull, ache deep in his heart. you comply, also hoping that seeing him will make it feel better.
“there you are kitten.” a small smile creeps onto your lips, your thighs press together and your head turns away from the screen so he can’t see the effect he has on you. “hi sylus.” you keep your words short and tone sharp, leaving no room for him to worm his way in and melt your front. you are happy to see him, in all his exhaustion. he looks unreasonably handsome this way, in your opinion.
“you look nice. i’m sure you’re having a blast wherever you are.” despite your harsh accusation, the compliment draws a light chuckle from sylus. a handful of butterflies wake in your tummy and flutter around at the sound. “im miserable here, so far from you. you must miss me more than i expected if these are your words, hmm?” all you do is look into the camera and nod your head pitifully, hoping for the best.
he coos at the sight, a little too consiscending for you liking. “sylus, why can’t you quickly leave and see me then go back? even an hour will be okay.” you try pleading, the whine in your voice doesn’t go unnoticed by your man and he makes sure you know he heard it by chuckling.
“you know that’s impossible sweetie. we use have to be patient, then we’ll be together again and i’ll give you just what you’re asking for.” you blink at the screen then put on your best i-have-no-idea-what-you’re-talking-about face. “i haven’t asked for anything but to see you the time you said you’d be back.” he nods and hums at your words, as if hes agreeing with what you’re saying, “that, and something else you aren’t saying explicitly. maybe, it has something to do with the calendar.”
you know exactly which calendar he’s referring to but you still turn your head to look the giant yearly calendar up on your wall then back at him. “the calendar?”
there’s something so endearing and unexplainably sexy about your attempts at being clueless to sylus. this week you’re ovulating, you know it and sylus knows it too. it pains sylus in a way he cannot express that he can’t be there for you, in the way the natural instincts in your body need him to be.
“isn’t it hot there in linkon? i suggest you get comfortable, sweetie. no need to be so clothed in my presence.” continuing your little game of feigned innocence, you nod at sylus’ suggestion and undress out your pyjamas. using your pillows as a pillar for your phone to rest against so sylus can see all of you.
a wicked grin sits on his lips as he takes in all of you, he pull his robe open at the sight of you then frees himself from the constraints of his boxers the he lowers the camera so you can see his growing cock. your clit swells ever so slightly and twitches at the sight. “come closer, sweetheart. i need to see you better.”
you move your hips closer to the screen, parting your thighs more for his viewing pleasure. a low groan rumbles from his throat, his hand slowly moves up and down at the sight. “won’t you touch yourself for me?” as if you’re his robot, your fingers find your clit and your two middle fingers press against it and move it around in small circles; a soft sigh escapes at the feeling.
sylus’ deep crimson eyes would burn through the screen if they could with the sheer intensity he’s watching your fingers move on your sensitive bud. “put them in, kitten.. i know you can.” his words fall out his lips before he can think about them and carefully choose them. your walls clench around nothing at his sudden command, but you obey and slide your fingers into your slippery hole one at a time then you curl them up the way sylus usual does and you press against the soft spot embedded in your walls, earning a slight quiver in your thighs before you start to slowly pump your fingers in and out.
sylus brings his phone closer to his face, so he has a better view, in turn his hand starts to move faster. sylus can’t find anything to say other than encouragement to validate you into continuing. soon the call is only sylus’, “that’s it kitten..”, “you’re doing such a good job.”, “you sound so beautiful.”, “i can’t believe you’re all mine.”
“‘m gonna cum sy..” your voice comes out barely above a whisper but your microphone luckily catches it, and so do sylus’ ears, in response he groans lowly and asks— no demands that you cum for him. happily, you oblige. your fingers work at all your sensitive spots to pull the orgasm out of you in a way that fails to replicate the way it feels when sylus does it.
your back lifts off the bed a little as your body shudders and quivers through your orgasm. your boyfriend watches with his jaw dropped and a groan of your name is all the warning he gets before hot cum spurts out his tip and lands on his stomach and rib cage.
your fingers slowly leave your creamy hole and you slowly lower your legs, your eyes closed and sylus’ hand let’s go and his head falls back as he attempts to catch his breath. “i’ll come see you as soon as possible, sweetheart. i’ll make sure of it.”
———
happy new year!! let’s have a good 2025 guys! one of my resolutions is to write more, let’s hope it comes to be!!!! woo! yay!
this fic is inspired by the tweet above, the idea got me out my writing slump let’s all clap our hands and jump for joy!!
(i forgot how to write smut 😝👍)
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azrielsdove · 3 days ago
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Nothing but Hate: Azriel x Rhysand!Sister!Reader
Warnings: Angst, Smut, 18+, Slight Eris x Reader
***
You grinned wickedly at the male in front of you, a dagger held tight in each hand. His golden eyes flashed with warning, hands lit up blue. You circled each other slowly, each sizing up the other.
You moved first, flinging a dagger towards his stomach. A flash of blue met the blade, disintegrating it in front of your eyes. Your smile dropped from your face, and you threw the second one rashly. It missed, as you knew it would. You groaned, hands coming up to cover your eyes.
“You’re up here to train,” Azriel chided, “so why don’t you act like it?”
You dropped your hands and turned to glare at him. “Has it ever occurred to you I have more important things to do than this?”
He rolled his eyes, crossing his arms. “Like what? Organizing your pretty little ball gowns? Polishing your countless tiaras?”
“I provide valuable intel to this Court,” you said, slowly looking him up and down. “Something you could learn a thing or two about.”
His eyes narrowed. “I do my job well. Your brother would not keep me employed if I didn’t. Or do you doubt the judgement of the High Lord?”
You gave a dramatic pout. “Oh, did I hurt your feelings? I care not what my brother does with you and that other brute. I was raised to gather information under the guise of a sweet, innocent lady.” You made a show of batting your eyes, lips in an exaggerated pout. “Males crumble far too easily.”
Rhys had been trying to get you and Azriel to get along for the better part of the last century. Something about him irked you to your bones. Cassian wasn’t much higher ranked in your mind, but you could at least tolerate him. You felt you would never know why your brother had latched on to these two idiots.
“You think rather highly of yourself, princess.” He spoke your title like it was an insult.
“I don’t see any great cause for why I should not,” you shot back, head high. You knew exactly what you were worth.
“Stuck-up brat.”
“You enjoy being my brothers bitch?”
Azriel opened his mouth to retort when he was cut off by a sharp yell.
“Enough!”
The two of you turned to see Rhys storming into the training ring. “I cannot think with you going at it like little children!”
“Well if he-“
“Rhys, she’s-“
“I said, ENOUGH.” Rhys stopped in front of you, hands coming to massage his temples. “You are being insufferable. I will not listen to your ceaseless bickering any longer. Figure out how to get along, or you will both be reassigned to the training camps.”
You and Azriel gave sounds of protest, quieted by Rhys holding up a hand. “I do not wish to hear it. I’m giving you one last chance. If you complete this mission without trouble I will allow you to yell at each other as much as you want. Otherwise, say goodbye to your nice little lives here.” He looked pointedly at the both of you. “Am I understood?”
You both grumbled your agreements, waiting to be given instruction. “Good. Now, I need you to go to Autumn. Beron is hosting a ball this coming week, and I need intel on what it is he’s doing. I do not trust the Vanserra’s, especially with Lucien’s recent departure.” He frowned deeply. “His father is a truly evil man. I want eyes on him.”
You and Azriel nodded, understanding the importance of this mission. Regardless of how you felt about each other, Rhys was right about the evil that runs the Autumn Court.
***
You stared at yourself in the mirror, a deep dread weighing down on you. You ran your hands over the front of your gown, watching the minuscule diamonds in the black fabric sparkle in the light. It was a stunning garment by all accounts, with the flowing skirts and romantic off-shoulder neckline. You looked every part the Night Court Princess, simply attending a ball as a Lady should.
Accompanied by…Azriel.
A knock at the door reminded you of his irritating presence. You walked over to open it, silver heels tapping on the ground.
“Are you-“ He began, stopping as he looked you over. You couldn’t help the smirk that made its way onto your face.
“Speechless, Shadowsinger?” You quipped, winking at him. That brought him back to reality and he rolled his eyes before begrudgingly holding an arm out for you to take.
“I would almost say you’re beautiful, but then you had to go and open that annoying little mouth of yours.” You pinched his arm under your hand, though you noted that the usual bite behind his words wasn’t all there.
This night was extremely important to the both of you. You had to figure out a way to work together. Neither one of you wished to go to the training camps, far away from your home. It sent a chill down your spine to recall the ways you were treated anytime you were at them, and you didn’t dare to think what it would be like if you were there alone. Truthfully, you were a little angry with Rhys for this level of threat. Was the punishment equal to the crime?
“Let’s just get this over with, Azriel.” You were looking forcibly ahead, otherwise you would have seen the worry that flitted over his face.
***
Evil as Beron was, he knew how to throw a party. The ballroom of the Autumn Court castle was dressed to the gods, golden elegance dripping from every inch. The male himself sat on an intricate wooden throne, a crown sat atop his head. His sons stood in a line next to him, each dressed in varying shades of orange and red. You carefully surveyed the room, putting on a show like you were admiring the decor.
Beron took note of you quickly, standing to loudly welcome you. “Princess! Come, let me introduce you to my sons.” You gave a shy smile and made your way over to him, playing the role Rhys had instructed you to. “Your brother tells me he is interested in a possible match between our Courts,” Beron continues, too loud for comfort. You knew the offer of your hand would go to his head. The elusive, dark, Night Court heiress betrothed to one of his sons? How could he resist?
You gave a small nod, glancing over at his sons lined up like prizes for you to select. “I am honored that you would deem me a good match for any of your sons, my lord.” You could almost feel the laugh Azriel held back at your demure tone.
Beron smiled widely, placing a hand on your back to lead you to the line of males. “Eris, my eldest and likely heir, would be your most advantageous match,” he drawled. Eris held his hand out for yours, placing a gentle kiss on your knuckles.
“It is an honor to be considered by the Princess of Night.” His voice dripped with honey-like sweetness, a gleam in his eyes that drew you in. You couldn’t help the light blush that crossed your cheeks in his presence.
“The honor is all mine,” you said with a curtsy, biting your lip when you looked back up at him.
“Would you like to dance?” He asked, as gentlemanly as expected. You bowed your head in agreement before letting him lead you out to the dance floor.
A shadow swirled briefly around your ankles, a subtle sign from Azriel. As annoying as he was, you knew you could trust him to keep you from danger. You made a point to catch his eye over Eris’ shoulder, a silent gesture that you understood his message.
Eris placed one hand on your waist and held yours in the other, a proud smile on his face. You allowed yourself to be immersed in the music, following his every move like you’d spent hours practicing together.
“Have you been to this Court before?” He asked you, spinning in a circle. “You do not look familiar.”
You shook your head, giving him a small laugh. “My brother does not like it when I travel far without him.” A sweet, innocent answer.
“He does not trust you, then?”
“No, I would not say so. He simply…worries, doesn’t he?” You tilted your head in the direction of the other sons. “Do you not worry for your brothers?”
Something flickered in his eyes as he looked over, an unspoken pain. “Them? No.” He looked back at you. “Not those ones.” You understood what he was saying, the unspoken message behind his words. The brother he worried for was long gone, away in Spring. You gave his hand a gentle squeeze, letting him know you understood.
Eris spun you out and pulled you in, your back hitting his chest as his arms wrapped around you. He bowed his head enough for his breath to tickle your neck, your body giving an answering shiver. “You’re not like the other High Court ladies,” he whispered in your ear, before spinning you back out and away.
You turned into him again, his hand coming back to its spot on your waist. “And you are not like other High Court lords,” you responded with a playful smile.
“How so?”
“Well, usually they hardly ever let me speak,” you laughed when you said it, playing it off like a joke.
“Hmm,” he said, the hand on your waist sliding to the small of your back as he pulled you in closer, “then they do not know the enjoyment they are missing.” 
The song had ended, the two of you left standing there improperly close. You were lost in his eyes, in the secrets he held in them. He leaned down and for half a second you believed he was going to kiss you.
And you were going to let him.
Instead he moved to whisper, “Would you like to see something special?” You nodded, and allowed him to lead you off the dance floor and out of the ballroom. A small voice in the back of your mind warned you that running off with a male you did not know was not the safest choice, but Eris made you feel safe. You could only hope his actions matched his words.
You were pleasantly surprised when he lead you to a library, books up to the ceiling. Everything was made of dark wood, shelves as if the trees simply grew that way. A roaring fire warmed the room, the smell of cinnamon and old parchment welcoming. “Oh, Eris,” you said in awe, “it is beautiful.”
He came up behind you as you stood in the center of the room, lost in the beauty around you. He wrapped an arm around your waist, hand splayed flat over your stomach, the other resting on your arm. He bent his head again, lips millimeters from the bare skin of your shoulder. You couldn’t help the way you leaned into him, the mission you were on long forgotten.
“I thought you might enjoy this,” he hummed, placing a soft kiss on your shoulder. “Not many care to come here. My father especially.” You felt the angry twitch in his fingers at the reminder of his father. You turned your head to look up at him, recognizing the longing in his expression.
“I am sorry,” you began, “about Lucien. I imagine that has been hard on you. Being forced to pretend you do not care.” He stayed quiet, looking at you with an intensity you had never experienced. Like it was the first time anyone had seen him.
“You are not what I thought you would be,” he whispered, before leaning down and capturing your lips with his. He kissed you with the passion of a thousand suns, his mouth moving with yours in their own dance. You turned in his arms to press your chest flush against his, your arms twining around his neck as you pulled him closer. Eris groaned at your touch, one hand coming to tangle its way into the hair at the back of your head.
He started moving the two of you until your back hit one of the bookshelves, never breaking the kiss. Tongues created art as the two of you lost yourselves in each other. “Eris,” you moaned when he moved his lips off yours, instead running them up and down the skin of your neck. He growled in response, one hand slowly gathering the skirts of your dress. Your breath was coming in fast spurts, his teeth dragging along your skin making you forget everything you were supposed to be doing.
“Say my name like that again,” he murmured against your skin, your skirts up high enough that he could slide one hand onto your thigh.
You opened your mouth to oblige when he was suddenly ripped off of you, the stark coldness of reality washing over you. You were stunned, still panting against the bookshelf as you took in the scene in front of you.
Eris was thrown backwards, slumped against the shelf across from you. You started to rush towards his unconscious form, concerned for him. You knelt by his side, gently laying his limp body all the way down as you looked over him for any serious injuries.
“Oh, give it up,” came an angry voice, and you shot your head towards Azriel.
“What is your problem?” You yelled, standing once you ensured Eris was otherwise okay.
“My problem? My problem? Maybe it’s the fact that we were sent here on a job, and you are too busy whoring yourself out to care!” He was glaring at you, shadows swirling angrily around him.
“You’d better rethink your words, Shadowsinger,” you warned, dark lightning flickering at your fingertips.
“Relax, princess. Rhys is calling us back.” He looked over at Eris on the ground. “Sorry to interrupt your little…moment,” he said, sounding not very sorry at all. You looked sadly back at Eris, worry still creeping in your mind. Azriel noticed, rolling his eyes. “He’ll be fine. We will not be if we do not go,” he emphasized, grabbing on to your arm.
“Fine.”
The two of you hastily winnowed back home, Azriel flying once your powers grew weary. You did not inherit the Illyrian wings from your mother, much to your dismay. Especially in this moment, in which you had to be in Azriel’s arms as he flew you high above the ground.
“What did you see in him?” He asked, breaking the chilly silence that had ensued since you left the Autumn Court.
“What?” You asked, shocked by his question.
“I mean, they’re evil, aren’t they? The Vanserras?”
You looked out over the night sky, quiet for a moment. “I believe some of them are. I believe Eris pretends to be.”
“I see,” Azriel mused. “But…why choose him?” You turned to look at him, puzzled.
“Azriel, are you jealous?” You teased, waiting for him to act disgusted.
Instead he remained silent, his arms tightening around you ever so slightly. You stared at him for a long time, processing the underlying meaning in his actions. “Az?”
He reacted then, looking at you sharply. You had never called him by that name. “I do not know what you mean,” he finally said.
The rest of the flight was done in silence.
You were thankful when you finally landed back at the House of Wind, the marble under your shoes a welcome feeling. A cool nights breeze blew through the balcony as you turned to Azriel.
“Well, thank you for not abandoning me in the Autumn Court,” you joked, trying for a smile.
His expression stayed stoic. “I would never have left you.”
You blinked at the intensity of his words. It was then that you noticed how closely he was standing to you, how he was looking at you. It was rather similar to the way Eris had looked before he had…
You backed away abruptly, stumbling slightly in your heels. Azriel caught you smoothly around the waist, hand burning you through the fabric of your dress.
“Azriel,” you whispered, “Rhys did not call us back, did he?”
“No.”
“Ah.” Your body was trembling in his grasp, a barrier dangerously close to being crossed as he tugged you flush against him, his nose tracing the slope of your neck. “Then why did you say he did?”
His hands fisted the material beneath them as he inhaled your scent. “I couldn’t stand it.”
You hated the way you were reacting to him, the fire coursing through you. It was entirely different than the way you had felt with Eris. This was more. Much more. You took a shaky breath before asking the question you already knew the answer to.
“Couldn’t stand what?”
Azriel brought his head up, eyes boring into yours. A century of untold feelings swam behind them. “I couldn’t watch him touch you any longer,” he began, one hand coming up to caress your throat. “It was driving me crazy. His lips on your skin, his hands on you.” His thumb rolled across your pressure point, pressing down ever so slightly. An embarrassingly needy noise fell from your lips. “Gods,” he breathed, pressing a kiss to your jawline. “I’ve held back for so long. Forcing my feelings down,” he started kissing down your throat, down your shoulder. Following the same path Eris had left a mere few hours before. “I chose to become your enemy instead, someone you couldn’t stand,” he bit down on your shoulder, dragging a soft moan from you as his tongue soothed the marks his teeth left. “But watching him touch you? The way I should be? No,” he laughed cruelly, dropping to his knees in front of you. You looked down at him in shock, heart racing at the hunger in his eyes. “I couldn’t let him have you.”
You reached behind you for the railing of the balcony, grasping onto it like it was your lifeline. “Azriel,” you whispered, watching him lift the bottom of your skirts. He kissed your bare ankle, eyes catching yours once more.
“Tell me to stop, and I will.”
Yet the both of you knew you weren’t going to. His lips continued their transgressions up your leg, painfully slow. He was leaving dark marks in his wake, a reminder that he was there. Your hand twisted in his hair when he reached the top of your thigh, leaving one final mark for you to see in the morning. “Az,” you gasped, feeling as though you were going to erupt into flame at any moment. “Please.”
He smiled wickedly at you, tearing your underwear off of you a moment later. You gave a small shriek at the action, eyes wide as you looked at the torn garment. He allowed you no chance to comment, his mouth on you before you even knew what to say.
“Oh,” you moaned, head falling backwards. His tongue swirled around you like you were the most delicious desert he had ever tasted. He sucked onto your clit, ripping a loud cry of his name from you. You were lost in the haze of lust and pleasure, all the years of anger and hate gone as if they never existed.
He continued the sins he was committing with his tongue while his fingers ran up to join. You moaned his name again and again as one pushed inside of you, curling in the exact spot you needed it to. Cool shadows swirled around your burning skin, a sensation so intense you weren’t sure you could handle it. He added a second finger, stretching you pleasurably. “Azriel, I, oh, Az,” you gasped out, unable to form coherent thought. He kept his movements steady as one shadow wrapped around your throat, squeezing just enough for you to moan again.
Eris was long gone from your mind.
Azriel continued working you, clearly pleased by the increasing volume and intensity in which you were saying his name. You knew you were close, forcing your orgasm at bay as long as possible. You wanted to live in this moment forever. He touched you like he had studied you for years, like he knew exactly what would make you tick. In his hands you were nothing but clay for him to mold, creating the beautiful sculpture that was this moment. Your body began to shake as he kept steady, thrusting his fingers in and out of you while humming against your clit.
That was all you needed to explode against him.
Your fingers tightened in his hair, your head thrown all the back, mouth open in a silent scream. Stars exploded behind your eyes, the sensation of your orgasm rolling through you. Azriel pushed you through it, prolonging the feeling as long as possible. He didn’t cease his actions until you were gasping for air, his name falling from your lips like a beautiful song. Only then did he slowly pull away from your wrecked body, standing to hold you steady.
One hand came to gently cup your face, thumb running lovingly over your cheek. “How long?” You asked, leaning into his touch.
“Since the first day I met you.”
You sighed, shaking your head. “Then why lie? Why battle me for so long?”
He looked guilty, moving to rest his forehead on yours. “You are his sister. I was scared.” He took a shuddering breath. “It was too risky. You were off limits, you see. He had explicitly told Cassian and I to not even think about it,” he gave a humorless laugh. “Being around you was overwhelming. Everything in me was screaming for you. I had originally decided to just be friends, that I would settle for that.” The arm around your waist tightened. “But even that was too much. I needed you, and the longer I went without you the more i began to lose it.” His eyes turned sad. “I had to push you away.”
You shook your head, tears pricking at your eyes. “Sometimes I hate my brother,” you whispered, a century long confession on the tip of your tongue. “For it has been the same for me all these years. So long, in fact, I forgot why I started to dislike you in the first place.” With that, you closed the remaining space between you, pressing your lips to his.
A hundred years of lost emotion poured from the both of you, holding on to each other like you may disappear. You kissed Azriel like this was the only chance you had, allowing him to open your mouth with his.
Passion flowed between the two of you, the taste of yourself on his tongue reigniting the fire under your skin. He whispered your name over and over against your lips, like a prayer he had been longing to say. In that moment the two of you were the only ones who existed.
“Well, this is most certainly not what I meant when I said I wanted you to get along.”
Your eyes shot open as you pulled your lips from Azriel’s, looking widely at your rather angry brother. “I, uh, hello, Rhys,” you stuttered, taking a step away from Azriel. Who, in fact, was having none of that, and immediately pulled your lips from back into his arms.
“Rhysand,” he said coolly.
“I would be careful with your tone if I were you, Azriel,” Rhys warned, anger simmering in him. “That is my sister.”
Azriel simply tightened his hold on you, capturing your lips in another kiss. “So she is.” He looked back at your brother. “Yet she is also my mate.”
Mate. Mate?
No.
Surely you didn’t spend a century warring with your fated mate, because your brother was too much of a hard ass to allow you to make your own choices?
No.
It couldn’t be.
And yet, at his declaration, you felt it in your soul. The golden bond tying the two of you together.
You glared at Rhysand.
“Brother, you and I will speak tomorrow.” Azriel leaned his head down to press a kiss against your neck, mumbling “or in a week.” You swatted him away, ignoring the laugh he let out. “But for now, you will go. I do not care where, but you will leave us be. Do you understand?”
Rhys stared at you in disbelief, not used to having someone else boss him around. “Well, I, but,” he spluttered, looking around the balcony as if for someone to save him. “You’re my sister!”
You gave him an exaggerated nod, speaking slowly. “Yes. I am. I am also fully grown and capable of making my own choices. Now, I suggest you leave.” Azriel happily began peppering kisses over your skin again. “Immediately.”
***
AHHHHHHH i absolutely LOVED writing this. happy 2025 friends. i hope you enjoyed <3
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minnietrys · 19 hours ago
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I LOVE YOU SO MUCH YOU DONT KNOW HOW I LOVE YOUR WRITINGS
YOUR SO GOODDDD
I JUST WANTED TO KNOW IF you could write something where player 120 met fem! Reader in a bar and then they make out XD
I just want to read smuts about this woman
Pookie I got you. I started brainstorming when I saw this so I have multiple ideas for this so I just started writing and let it lead, I did end up giving them a past so hopefully you like it!
So with my further do I present:
Is it casual now?
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◯ Cho Hyun-ju x Fem! Reader
△ Alt! Universe- You and Hyunju are kinda like friend with benefits but you to be more
▢ oral(f!receiving), fingering, pet names, rough, kinda made her a bit toxic…2k words
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Okay so this is my first ever smut and I just gathered all the info and tips I learned from reading smut so hopefully it’s good and if it is expect more soon :p
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‘Casual’ that’s what you and Hyunju were according to any of your friends that asked. But oh boy how that hurts you in every way.
Was everything she has done to you that casual? Was spending hot hours of the night together that casual to her? Was all the marks she left behind that casual? Was that sore morning feeling she left that casual?
Oh how that word casual was used so wrong in this situation. 
But here you are doing nothing but staring at her from across the table. With a drink in your hand trying to wash away that stupid word from your head. Maybe even trying to enjoy the celebration as causal friends.
“Unnie? Are you okay?” youngmi words snap you out of your train of thought. “Oh yes, sorry youngmi. What happened?” You asked with a complete sorry tone.
“Ah nothing, but we were just about to cut the cake! Also you look out of it? Are you sure you’re still up to continue celebrating?” she asked with those adorable sincere doe eyes. To be honest you always seen youngmi as younger sister but didn’t really like that her and Hyunju were also close. It made you feel green inside.
“Of course, I wouldn’t miss the celebration of your 21st! It’s a once in a life time and the only day I can watch you get wasted for the first time” you laughed out while she gasped “are you sure it isn’t you who going to be getting wasted” youngmi said in a teasing tone.
“Ha ha ha your so funny, that only happened once” you said in a defensive tone with a pout but you notice someone staring at you from your peripheral vision. You felt your mouth go dry and your body tense up.
So you decide to look back at her but there she is staring at you a smirk looking you up and down like your some kinda of piece of candy. Did she just lick her lip, oh how you felt your legs start to shake.
“Uh excuse me youngmi, I have to the restroom.” You excuse yourself but not without feeling someone eyes follow you.
Once you finally reach the restroom all you could do was sigh. Maybe you were just a girl she banged but how she treats you makes you feel different.
Gripping the sink you take a deep breath and hear the door open. Looking up into the mirror you see her. She walking up to you, slowly pushing your hair that covered your neck to aside. You feel her breath on your neck making you release an airy moan.
“You know it’s not fair. You all over everyone else here but not daring to look at me.” She grips your hips pulling them back to met hers. “It’s quite rude actually. One day you’re in my bed and the next you ignore me, come on baby that no way to act.” She says in that pouting tone while she bites your ear in a teasing way.
Turning you to face her, your arms automatically move to around her neck waiting for her next action. But she just keeps moving her eyes from between your eyes and lips with that damn smirk that makes you weak to your knees.
Grabbing your chin she pulls you forward so your lips would met. A never ending battle with your mouths start. Tongue against tongue, tongue moving from in and out of your mouth, you felt like you were going wild.
Till she grips your neck to pull you away. You notice the string of saliva that connected your lips together. The hand around your neck gets your attention but is easily lost when she squeezed your neck making you whine while your eyes round back.
“Wow, you really know how to win a girl back with that face and noise don’t you” she laughs out with a smirk but not daring to move her hand not when she has you where she wants you.
“Mhm—please…” you manage to get out of your mouth. “Please? Huh you asking for something but I don’t know what you want. Your going have to use more words baby” oh how you hate when she does this, she knows what you want.
Gasping out “you..please…unnie” you start gripping her hair. “Aw the baby wants her unnie” Hyunju says in a teasing pout while she put her knee between your legs making you moan out and grip her harder.
“Okay here what I want you to do, your going to walk your pretty self to my car and wait patiently as I go tell the others we are heading out, if you don’t you won’t get anything from me got it.” She said sternly while looping a piece of your hair around her finger and staring at you like she ready to eat you.
Whining as she lets you go “ah come on, walk or I just go back and sit down but judging by the look on your face you won’t want that.” Ugh she just keeps pushing all the buttons that make you feel so weak. 
Slowly walking away with a stumble from your shaking legs you make it to the door but not without turning once more to look at her with that begging expression. All she does is smirk in return and wave in a teasing way.
You’re not really sure how you did it but you managed to make it to her car, well with a few strange glances on the way. Getting into the passenger seat you fully take in what happened.
Shit I’ve fallen for it again… you thought as you threw your head back on the head rest. Why couldn’t you catch a break with this women were you really that stupid, yo— your thoughts get cut off when you heard the driver side open.
You felt a hand grip your chin forcing you to look at her, “come on, what can unnie do for you?” again with that hungry look in her eyes while she lets her thumb rub and play with your bottom lip. You couldn’t help it you started sucking on her thumb while trying your best to give her those ‘fuck me’ eyes.
Groaning she pulls her thumb out of your mouth and starts attacking your lips with hers. You pulled her in not getting enough of her taste it’s so addictive. Suddenly you feel one of her hands squeezing your breast over your top, you couldn’t help but like out a moan causing her tongue to dart straight into your mouth.
Pulling her away “Unnine..please f-fuck me..please” you let out with a crying while a few tears row down due to the need for pleasure. “You see baby that all you had to do, use your words” Hyunju says while wiping away the tears and gives you a small peck on your cheek.
“Now do me one huge favor and recline your seat back” she said with a sweet smile like what you guys weren’t about to do something freaky in her car.
Once doing so her hand suddenly gripped your thigh pulling your shut legs apart causing a moan to exit you due to the sudden action. “You look so pretty when you’re turning into a mess but you’re eternal when you’re a full mess” she whispered as she pushed your skirt up exposing the wet mess hiding under causing her to bite her lip.
You felt yourself tremble as she slowly started to trace the lines of your folds over your undies and pressing sweet kissing on your neck causing you to whine. But you started to push into her hand hard looking for the sweet friction “Ahah what did I say about being impatient baby..” she warns as she was taps at where you clit is located.
“I-I am sorry, I just need you so so so bad unnie please” you cry out trying to beg for her to fully touch you.
“Fine, since you asked so nicely but you better not start crying when you can’t handle it” she warned as she pushed you panties to the side and finally felt her thumb meet your clit making you let out a relived moan.
Your finally get that sweet sweet pressure you be looking for all night but the sudden feeling of two fingers entering you cause your legs to shut close.
“Hey I thought you were going to behave-” she growled out as she forced your legs back open with her other hand causing you get even more wetter. “Good now be a good girl and take what I give you” she said as she gave a rough thrust causing your hands to fly to hers, gripping it as if she going to tone down her thrust.
Moan after moan that’s what she pulling out of you and how that makes her movement go faster.
“Mhm! Unnnie…please—” cutting off your pleases she sticks her tongue in your mouth while gripping the back of your neck making her tongue travel more further. Continuing her abuse with her hand, she finally hits that sweet spot that makes you see star causing you to throw your head back. So she starts her recoloring her previous marks from nights before. She wants people to look at neck and just know your off limits, to know that your being taken care off.
“Hyunju!” You scream out as the hot knot in your stomach finally popped but that doesn’t matter Hyunju will continue her abuse til your done riding out that delicious high.
Sighing in delight Hyunju pulls her fingers out and makes you look at her as she stuff her soiled finger in her mouth causing you to moan.
“Mhmm~ quite a wonderful taste, now I am craving the taste but from the source” she smirks as you whimper and try to close you legs but she is already out of the driver side walking to the passenger side. Opening your door she push the button to make your seat go back as she just smiles.
She slot herself knee deep in the passenger seat while looking into your eyes she rubs and kisses your thighs. You couldn’t help but moan oh man is this casual now?
Opening your thighs she slowly leads her kisses to your folds. Groaning as she comes lips to clit she starts sucking causing your hands to grip her hair. “Ngh—unnie” you moan out causing her suck harder.
Pulling away she groan just getting a glance at your state “you really are eternal” she said was she licks your clit down to your slit. “Mh—please”that’s it, that’s all it took for her to enter you with her tongue groaning at the taste.
You start to squirm in pleasure, you just can’t get enough nor can handle it. But your put to sudden stop as she slaps the side of your thigh and grips your hip letting her nails press into your skin. All you could do was whine and shred those tear Hyunju loved so dearly.
A sudden loud moan leaves your mouth as her thumb starts circling around your clit adding more pleasure on top of what you’re already experiencing. You can feel the knot in your stomach start to twist with all the amount of pleasure so you start trying to push Hyunju head away.
“Unnie please I’m close—” you really tried to push her away but that woman won’t budge she kept her mouth where she wanted it whiling pushing in her nails even deeper into you.
“Wai—” you were cut off with your loudest moan of the night causing the knot to finally pop all over Hyunju. Gasping for air you start to calm down but that calmness is quickly gone with Hyunju rubbing her fingers over your slit.
“Mhm you did such a good job, and tasted so good” she said as she licked the leftover juices on you and her lips. “How about we head to my place?”
Oh you already know what she means…another ‘causal’ fuck with no strings attached. “Please” she mutters with that sad puppy look as she rubs up and down your leg so you just bit back that remark and nodded.
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Ahh um let me know thought because I had to pause and rethink if I’m doing this right
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