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megamindsecretlair · 2 months

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When It Feels Right

Pairing: Lamont Diggs x Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. SMUT. PWP, cursing, protected PIV, oral (female receiving) fingering (female receiving) teasing/mocking, size kink, dirty talk, praise kink, all consensual. Use of n-word. Drug use.

Summary: Lamont invited you to his studio to help work on his new beat. You help him in more ways than one.

Word Count: 5,057k

A/N: Hello, my loves. I have been feral for this man since watching this show. This was LONG overdue. This is the winner of the Fic poll, thank you to everyone who voted! ONE SHOT. Please, please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers! And please put ages in bios! Or get blockt!

Taglist: @planetblaque @babybratzmaraj @browngirldominion @we-outsiiiide @iv0rysoap @thecookiebratz @wide-nose-and-wonderful @hereformiles @flydotty @blackerthings @notapradagurl7

Lamont released a heavy cloud of smoke in the air. You bobbed your head to the new beat he made. Lamont matched your bobbing head, a slow grin working its way across his face. You rolled your eyes and turned away from him, trying to feel the beat without him coloring your opinion.

Just because he was your best friend didn’t mean that you couldn’t lay down the truth when needed. The good Lord knew that he didn’t need an even bigger head.

As the beat faded and came to a close, Lamont clapped his hands in the too silent studio. It was a rare night where he didn’t have Melissa, couldn’t sleep, and his boys weren’t in the background smoking up all the weed.

“Go on and tell me that’s hot!” He yelled and clapped his hands again. He played with a few switches on the switchboard and then swung his chair to face you. You swung idly on your own chair, back and forth.

You gave him a funny look, not willing to admit that it was good. Of course it was good. Dude really knew his fucking craft.

“It’s aight,” you said and dismissed him with a wave.

“Bullshit!” Lamont yelled. The joint hung from his lips as his long, delicate fingers flew over switches and knobs and he ran the track back. The deep bass thumped through the speakers once more and he turned to you, brows furrowing to gauge your reaction.

“Damn, I’m playing!” You said and giggled. You pushed away from his too intense stare. He sucked his teeth and pushed you back.

“Tell me what you really think, damn,” he said.

“Nah, that shit is fire, Lamont. Seriously, you tore this up,” you said.

“Thanks, thanks. Just need some dope lyrics on it. Tired of them mumble rapper m’fucka’s,” Lamont said.

He shook his head, his locs tussling over his face and dropping into his eyes. Your hand itched to push it away so you could continue looking at him. You swung your chair away from him so that your face didn’t give you away. It was the weed talking, nothing more.

You played with the sleeves of your sweater, swinging around and around in circles until his studio became a dizzy array of green and red. Like Christmas. That was a much safer line of thinking. You could think about lights, gingerbread houses, and pinecones and not about how Lamont’s lips poked out, ready to be kissed.

Lamont turned down the beat and deposited the joint in the nearby ashtray. The smell was loud, filling your senses with its aroma. You smacked his shoulder as you passed him and then smacked it again until he relented and handed it to you.

You took a lungful, holding it in and rolling it around your tongue before releasing it back out into the studio. You watched the smoke lift towards the popcorn ceiling, wishing it would take your thoughts with it. You smoked so that your brain could pause like a TV show. So that you could stop to take in the details around you and make sense of it.

Your stomach turned and roiled so you stuck your foot out to slow your spins. Lamont was on his phone scrolling through Instagram.

“You always on that damn phone,” you said, grinning as you realized that you sounded like your mama.

“Okay, Ms. Etta,” he said.

“Shut up! That is not my mama name!”

Lamont peeked at you from the curtain of his locs and smirked, holding out his hand for the joint. You took one last inhale, the burning embers at the end filling your peripheral vision before you handed it back to him. He dumped the ashes and then took a puff, putting it down on the ashtray.

Lamont returned his attention back to his phone, head slightly bouncing to the beat he made. Your eyes slowly tracked over all of the mini orange, red, and green lights blinking from the switchboard.

This was the kind of laid back music that would be in a lounge somewhere. Your mind’s eye filled in details of blue ambient lighting. Black men and women and those in between dressed in their finest business casual. Men in deep, monochromatic suits and shiny shoes. Women in dresses a hair shy of too short, showing off long, thick legs and strappy high heels.

You pictured glasses clinking, words whispered amongst friends, and glances thrown across the room. Ballers sending trays of drinks to the group of women at the bar knowing exactly what they were doing by leaning over it.

It was a type of sexy beat that you felt in your inner thighs first. The thrumming bass making your thighs jiggle. Warming heat working its way up your spine until you couldn’t help but nod your head, bump your shoulders, and look at your friend to see if they were feeling the beat like you were.

You turned to Lamont, ready to tell him, when his nose was buried in his phone again. You groaned and reached out to slap your hand over the phone.

“You said you wanted no distractions tonight, remember?” You asked.

“I’m done with the beat though,” he said. He moved his phone out of your way and you leaned over a little further to try and snatch it from his fingers. His arms were longer than yours and he easily held it away from you.

“You said not to let you get distracted. Hand it here,” you said. You snapped your fingers. Lamont shook his head, his locs whipping across his face. His gold chain glinted in the low lighting and it was stark against his white T-shirt, dyed green in the studio lighting.

“You ain’t gon’ snap yo fingers like you somebody,” he said.

“I AM! SOME-BODY!” You cackled at your own joke, eyes wide and smiling so big that your cheeks ached.

“Goofy ass. You need to stay off this shit,” he said.

“Boo, you’re no fun,” you said. You continued to reach across the short space between you, trying to reach his phone. You were high, but not that high. Your thoughts were coherent and slow. Like you could pluck each of them out and lay them on a blanket. That you could take your time and choose between them like choosing your outfit.

“C’mon, watch out,” he said. He nudged you back but you were undeterred. Your tongue stuck out of your mouth, so deep in your concentration. Lamont chuckled, effortlessly fighting you off.

You huffed and you huffed but you could not blow this wolf down. You sat back in the seat and sighed. “For real, Lamont. I did not come over here, at midnight, just for you to play on your phone. I wanna see some magic,” you said.

“Girl, I just showed yo ass the Magic Kingdom,” he said.

You laughed at his corny ass line and shook your head. “One beat is all you got?” You asked.

“All I got?” Lamont scoffed, affronted that you would even suggest such a thing.

You inwardly grinned, using your knowledge of him to your advantage. He always rose to the occasion. He was almost too easy as he sat forward in his seat. His left hand dropped the phone in between you while he focused on the board once more.

Where you only saw switches and gears, he saw instruments. This board was a modern orchestra and he knew exactly which sounds to pull from it. Which drums sounded dirty enough to warrant adding snares and strings.

You snatched his phone from beside him. He instantly balked, trying to get it back from you. You didn’t have the length he did, so you had to resort to putting it behind your back and trying to slide your chair away from him.

He put one hand on your chair to stop your retreat and then the other went in search of his missing phone.

“C’mon, stop playing!” He laughed as he struggled to get the phone from you.

You only had so many places to stick it. You kept moving it like you were playing hot potato with it, tossing it from one hand to the other. “You come on! I know why you call me here. So I can keep yo ass focused!”

“I focus just fine without you. Ever think I just want your company?” He asked.

“Duh, you always want my company,” you teased, still moving the phone every two seconds while he lunged for it. A giddy feeling swelled in your chest like a balloon, filling up all of your hollow crevices and giving you the feeling of floating despite feeling heavy.

“Always? You loud and wrong,” he said. He sat back with a huff, eying you. You grinned, looking for any type of eye twitch or flicker. Anything to indicate that he would make a sudden move and try to snatch it from you.

“Oh? I guess I should just leave then,” you said. You leaned out of the chair, butt hovering over the seat that was practically molded to your ass by now. You felt a few twinges. The side effect of sitting too long. All this cushion in your ass didn’t mean shit.

“Man, sit yo ass down and hand me my phone. Please?” Lamont asked. But the please was not sincere. You stuck out your tongue while you placed the phone down your shirt.

The warm metal laid across your skin and you grinned at Lamont’s expression. His face kind of froze. Or paused while he stared at your chest. It was nothing new for the two of you, so you couldn’t name why it made your belly flip.

“You think that’s gon’ stop me?” He asked. Was it you or did his voice get a little deeper? A little rougher?

You adjusted the phone against your cleavage and threw up your hands. “What you gon’ do?” You asked.

Lamont licked his lips, a small smile forming on his lips. “You know I can just turn you upside down and shake you like a toy?”

Nope. That did not make your pussy flutter. You did not imagine shaking for entirely different reasons.

There was always this thickness between you and Lamont. A sort of sticky, gooey middle that kept you glued to his side all these years. You had been friends for so long, you didn’t remember the exact number. Where one went, there went the other. There was always a lingering look, a hand on the hip placed too long, a bite to the lip.

You never crossed the line. The timing was never right. Either you were with somebody or he was. He was nursing your broken heart while you were getting him turnt up for his. He had an entire baby with Mia who had him wrapped around her tiny manicured pinky. Despite his protests otherwise.

Now. Now you were both single. Unattached. No messy drama getting in the way.

“Whatever, Lamont. I am here to keep you on track,” you said. You shook your head and smacked your lips. “Literally and figuratively.”

“Gimme my phone,” he said, that same rough voice dancing along the sticky gooeyness that made your toes curl. He didn’t need to see the way you looked down trying to get yourself under control.

“What you gon’ do?” You asked, rolling your neck for emphasis.

He smiled and shook his head. He waved his fingers in a ‘come on’ gesture and you smacked his hand.

“What you gon’ do? What you gon’ do?” You kept asking, waiting for him to reply. To say something. Anything. You were tossing out the question like a fishing line, baiting him with delicious chum. With the irresistible urge to either latch on and let you know that it wasn’t just you or toss it aside and let it drop once and for all.

“Say it one more time and I’ll show you what I’m gon’ do,” he said.

“What you gon’ do?” You said slowly, enunciating each word so there were no misunderstandings.

Lamont’s hand shot out and pulled your fuzzy sweater away from your chest. His other hand snuck up your shirt and went fishing around for his phone. But his hands roamed too broadly, lightly squeezing your titty every so often.

“Lamont!” You yelled.

He licked his lips and got closer. His breath fanned across your face, a subtle mix of candy and weed. His hand continued to roam while he slowly closed the distance between your lips. He looked at you the entire time, giving you ample opportunity to back away.

But you wanted this. You casted that fishing line out into the ether, so you closed the distance for him. You pressed your lips against his finally. Your dreams didn’t come close. It was nothing like what you thought it would be and everything you dreamt it could.

His lips were soft against yours. Smooth tongue running over your lips and sloppily slanting against yours. You hummed, low and softly but you were sure he heard it. His hands continued to roam under your shirt, no longer seeking his phone.

Instead, his hands found your breasts and began to knead them, fingers grappling for your nipple. As soon as his fingers found that little pebble – no bra because you hadn’t felt like throwing on one just to chill with Lamont – he squeezed and rolled it between his fingers.

“Oh shit,” you said against his lips, finally pulling back far enough to get some air. Some room.

“Mhm,” he moaned. “You think I ain’t been paying attention these past few years?” He asked.

“Wh-what you mean?” You asked. He rolled his lips around yours, kissing you but only just so. His wide nose danced against yours. One thing about high sex that you loved was how sensitive you became. How the little hairs on your skin picked up the different changes in temperature or tingled with every brush of skin.

“All them nasty ass stories you liked to tell. About how men never hit it how you like,” he said.

He switched his hand to your other titty, seeking your nipple a lot faster. He rolled it in between your fingers and your breath stuttered.

Already, he was leagues better than half the guys you’d been with. Or perhaps it was your lingering, previously unclaimed chemistry, doing most of the work for you. This was inevitable. Your lips would always meet his. His hands would always press into your skin.

“You remember that?” You asked.

“Kept hoping it would be me in one of them stories. ‘Cept, I know what I’m doin’,” he said.

You giggled and pushed away from him. “Big fuckin’ words, boy,” you said.

Lamont had a playful frown on his face, considering your words, before he slapped his hands onto the arm rests of your chair. He caged you in your chair while he leaned down for more kisses.

His lips were like little clouds of heaven. Each one sweet, soft, and lazy. He lowered himself to his knees, still too tall for his own good. He kept kissing you, even while his hands went roaming again.

He pulled your sweater off and took in the white tank underneath. His lips found yours again as if he didn’t want to be gone too long. He mixed in nips and licks to keep you on your toes. He grabbed his phone from out of your tank and placed it on the edge of the switch board.

He returned his attention to your body, kissing and biting you through the fabric of your tank. You felt him, but you didn’t really feel him. You lifted the tank and threw it over your head.

Cool air from the studio hit your upper body and you immediately shivered. Even with the thumping beat and lingering smoke, you weren’t warm enough. Lamont helped you lower your leggings and panties, pulling them off and throwing them across the room.

You were fully naked, staring into his dark eyes while he was still dressed. He leaned back, took in your curves, dips, and valleys with a satisfied grin.

“So that’s what you look like underneath all them damn sweaters. You been keepin’ this from me?” He asked.

He rubbed the goosebumps from your arms, scooting in between your legs and making you spread them wider to accommodate him. He looked you in the eye while he lifted one leg, kissed it, ran his tongue right behind your knee before placing it on the arm rest.

You felt ready to explode. He did the same to your other leg, but trailed more kisses down the length of it before placing it on the arm rest.

“You gon’ answer me?” He asked.

“Waat?” You asked.

He chuckled. “You were just gon’ keep hiding this from me?” He asked.

“I-I wasn’t trynna hide it,” you said. Your words were slow to form and even slower to get out.

“You wasn’t? Then why I ain’t never get a taste yet?” He asked.

He leaned across your body. His cotton shirt was almost too rough against your skin. You hissed, moving away from him but he moved forward anyway. The shirt tickled your skin but you didn’t have enough air in your lungs to giggle.

Anticipation flipped in your belly, like it was playing hopscotch in there. You didn’t know what he was going to do next. You were on an infinite precipice of waiting.

He didn’t make you wait long. He kissed you, moving his hands between you to brush his fingers along your wet seam. You jerked in the chair but he had you effectively pinned. You had nowhere to go. Trapped in the chair with him covering your naked body.

You moaned, licked your lips in between kisses, and then went back to feeling those sexy lips on yours.

His fingers pushed in, separating your pussy lips and dipping into your heated essence. He moaned into your lips, tugging on your bottom lip. “You always get this wet?” He asked.

“Uh-uh,” you said.

“No? I just bring that out of you?” He asked.

“Uh-huh,” you said. You had no words. With every swipe of his fingers, he pulled them out of your head. Each pass of his fingers around your clit made one more word disappear like air.

“So that means I get to taste it right?” He asked. He moved his nose against yours and you sighed, your pussy clenching around nothing.

“Uh-huh,” you said, lips finding his again and again. His wet, suckling kisses made you see stars behind your eyelids.

His knuckle nudged into your clit and you hissed, releasing the air in short bursts. “Oh, she a little excited,” he said.

“Oh shit,” you moaned. “Don’t tease me.”

“Don’t tease you? I like teasing you. I finally know how to shut that attitude up,” he said.

“You too damn cocky,” you moaned.

“Still running that mouth,” he said. He moved his fingers to dip in and out of your pussy, pushing his fingers deep to his knuckle. Your mouth dropped open, eyes turned bruising.

He moved his lips to your jaw and kissed down to your neck. He sprinkled kisses across your chest and then licked your nipple into his mouth, suckling. “Oh my god,” you gasped, back lifting from the chair.

Your pussy greedily sucked his fingers inside. “That’s right. Grip them fingers. Show me you like what I’m doing to you. Getting wetter over here, I’m gon’ have to buy a new chair,” he whispered around your nipple.

Your hands came up to play with his locs, rolling them between your fingers and loving the feel of them. You were in sensory overload. Everything was too much and not enough. Lamont’s filthy words had you screaming towards a climax, thighs shaking and pussy gripping him tighter.

“That’s fuckin’ right. Been dyin’ to know what you look like when you cum. You gon’ look like that riding this dick? Huh? How many pretty faces can you make while I’m rearranging your guts?” He asked.

“Lamont!” You twitched.

He continued to pump his fingers as you calmed down. It was like he was exploring your pussy with his fingers. Trying to gauge how deep you could take him. Your grip tightened around his neck and he hummed, flicking his tongue against your nipple.

When you relaxed against the chair, Lamont slowed down his fingers until stopping altogether. He licked his fingers and moaned. “Taste so fuckin’ good. You doing okay?” He asked.

You nodded, loosening your grip on his neck. You wiped up run away drool, feeling a bit embarrassed that a little finger action made you cum quicker than a man in a porn store.

Lamont shook his head, shaking the locs from his face as he pressed his face into your pussy. He took a loud, deep breathe and blew air between your pussy lips.

“Oh shit!” You screamed, hands flying back to his head. You gripped his hair while he began to eat you out in earnest, using his tongue first.

He leaned back and hummed, slapped your pussy. “Damn,” he moaned. “So fuckin’ good.” He was a messy eater, digging in like it was his last meal. His lips wrapped around your clit and sucked. He brought his hands up to roll your nipples between his fingers, squeezing and squeezing until he pinched them.

“Fuck, fuck. Lamont! Damn,” you moaned, biting your lip. Fuck! It felt too good. So damn good with his lips between your thighs and his locs tickling your skin, and your hands digging into his head. Smashing his face into your pussy, giving him free rein to explore this thing between you.

“Name sound sexy on your lips. Say it again,” he said, coming up for a bite of air.

“Lamont,” you said with a grin. His eyes flicked to yours while he continued to make out with your pussy.

“Again,” he said, muffled against your wet core.

Lamont!” You moaned while your orgasm was cresting the surface. Pressure built in your lower belly, getting so close with each new flick. Each new lick. Each new moan that told you he liked what was between your thighs. The thought that you could please him, even by the small act of being wet for him, turned the tide.

Your hand flew back to the back of the chair to steady you while your back arched. “Oh shit, Lamont!” Your neck rolled against the top of the chair while your body twitched and convulsed. Your body turned limp, riding the orgasm wherever it took you. However you looked while you spasmed.

“Tasting so fuckin’ good. Fuck, I been missing out,” Lamonst said into your pussy. He continued to lap like a cat to cream. “So fuckin’ sweet. So fuckin’ good.”

He lumbered to his feet, tossing off his white shirt. His chain bounced against his dark skin. His tattoos were darker still, spread out all over his body. You watched him through slitted eyes while he unzipped his pants.

He freed his dick and rubbed the hardened length. Shit, he was perfect. Big and girthy. It was always the skinniest niggas that packed the biggest punch. It had a slight curve to it and your pussy clenched just seeing it.

He dug into his pocket and grabbed his wallet, flipping it open and grabbing a condom. He tore it open, found the right side, and then pinched the tip. You watched him as he rolled it onto his dick, adjusting here or there until it was fully on.

He pushed your thighs back on the chair. It protested with a loud groan, conflicting with a different beat in the background. Something laid back, lazy, and slow. Light danced over his features while he leaned forward, towering over you bent like a pretzel in his chair.

“You feelin’ aiight?” He asked.

“Yes, nigga!” You said with a smack of your teeth. He chuckled, grabbing your throat with his left hand. Your eyes rolled involuntarily, hand flying to grab his wrist. Not to push him away, but to keep him there. To push for more pressure.

He obliged you, squeezing harder until you were ready to cum just from that. “You must need some dick to get you right,” he said.

“Umph, yesss,” you moaned.

He used his right hand to grip his dick and run it through your damp folds, getting the condom slick with your wetness. He pushed in slowly. You hissed, pushing against his thighs.

“Uh-uh, don’t push me away. Move them hands,” he said.

“But Lamont–”

“Move. Them. Hands,” he growled, getting close to your face and squeezing your neck.

You moved your hands with a whine. He was too damn big. He rolled his hips, sliding inside of you and working his way deeper. Your hands flew back to his thighs, pushing at him.

“Move them fuckin’ hands,” he rasped.

“Please,” you begged. You were going to pass out. There was too much pleasure. Too much desire and lust. Too much of him. His scent, his sighs, his scorching looks. He lit fires in your veins that made you whimper and pout.

“Move them fuckin’ hands right now,” he said.

Again, your hands slid away from his sweat-slick thighs with a whine. The sound was needy and desperate. You had no way of slowing this down. Slowing it down to a pace you could quickly adjust to.

His dick didn’t hurt, he just stretched you deliciously. So much so that you had a goofy smile spread across your lips like icing on a cake. You moved your hands back to his hand on your neck.

He rolled and moved his hips, stroking into you with deep, long thrusts at a steady pace that stole your breath. You whined, choppy hums in your throat. “Why you doin’ this to meeee,” you moaned.

“‘Cause I been waiting too long to get in this pussy. I’ma enjoy that shit,” he said. He smirked and dropped down to kiss you while he stroked deeper still.

You sank onto his dick while he rolled his hips, moaning with every glide. He lifted his head and rolled his neck, closing his eyes. You watched his face while he stroked, watched as he found some type of groove like your body was the switchboard and he was making a complicated beat.

He lined up perfectly. Your back arched. “Oh fuck, oh fuck. Right there, right there, Lamont,” you moaned.

“Right there?” He asked. He kept hitting your sweet spot, not deviating in the slightest.

“Right there, oh my god, I’m gon’ cum,” you moaned.

“Give it to me. Let me feel that pretty pussy grippin’ this dick. She feel so fuckin’ good. Wrapped around this dick. This what you needed? Huh? This what you needed? Them other niggas ain’t have all this for you, did they?”

Each of his questions grew fainter as your orgasm came closer and closer. Your hand pushed against his chest. Your eyes were too far in the back of your head. You were worrying a groove into your bottom lip by biting too hard.

“You still with me? This dick got yo tongue?” He asked.

“I’m-” You came with a loud moan, louder than you had ever moaned before. You twitched in the chair, the groans from it sounded violent. “Oh fuck! Oh fuck! Feel so good, Lamont!” You cried out. Yelled out.

It was a good thing that you were in a proper studio and there was no one around to hear you. Had you been at your place, your neighbors would know his fucking name.

Your hands scratched at his stomach while he chuckled and kept stroking. “Fuck. You squeezin’ the fuck outta me. You ain’t trynna let me go, huh? Now that you know I know how to hit it right. What got you screaming. What got you moaning. What got you cummin’ on this dick like that,” he said.

“Oh baby,” you moaned.

“I’m baby now? What happened to my name?” He asked.

At this point, you didn’t know your own name. You clenched around his dick and he cursed, slamming into you one more time before you felt him twitch inside. You had an errant fantasy about him cumming inside you, spilling his fat load into you and then fucking it into you.

You tucked that particular one to the back of your mind while Lamont dropped against you, loosening his grip around your throat. Your matching pants and gasps made the moment soft but fuzzy around the edges. Like when you first woke up from a good nap and didn’t know what year it was or what you were doing beforehand.

Lamont slipped out of you, stumbling back. He took off the condom, tied the ends, and threw it in the nearest trash can. He sat in own chair. He tucked himself back in but didn’t zip up his pants.

You slowly lowered your legs from the chair, feeling thoroughly fucked out. You looked towards Lamont who was studying you in the same way. He smiled first. Your smile matched his as the gravity of what you just did sunk in.

Sunk down deep into your bones. There was no going back from this. There was no way to pretend this didn’t exist. That he wasn’t just deep enough in your guts to still feel the lingering effects. You felt empty without him.

“We wasted too much fuckin’ time,” he said softly. You nodded and licked your lips.

You tapped the tips of your fingers trying to reorient yourself. Bring yourself down to reality. The reality of you with Lamont. You smiled. “Let’s not waste anymore.”

You had sex again on his red, leather couch. Nasty, intense sex where his hands were back around your throat, he was stroking deep in your guts, and staring into your eyes while he continued to shatter your world over and over again. You grinned and giggled in between his nasty words and your faint pleas for mercy.

You didn’t know what tomorrow would bring, but you were excited to find out.

THE END

Psst, over here! The Secret Lamont Files.

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alastorsfuckassbob · 3 months

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You're Never Fully Dressed-

Alastorxfem!reader

oh boy everyone's favorite! Please I have never written before, I just figured I'd give it a shot it was 1:35 and I was not feeling sleepy so an hour later here it is, its not edited so SORRY ABOUT THAT- all of my friends are normal and would definitely not proof read this hot garbo!

Basic Plot!! Yikes another song fic i know i KNOWW, the reader knew our good pal Al in her life but oopsies he "left" her (he died duh) and now shes taking a sad hot girl bubble bath to reminisce!!

Lyrics are bolded, past events Italics for the most part.

ALSO Please DNI if you're a minor k thanks bye!! You are responsible for your own internet consumption, so here are the warnings! If you don't want to view that ✨dont✨

Warnings include:

-Swearing

-Violence

-Alcohol Use but not abuse! (its hell duh)

-Abusive Relationships

-Slight Innuendo but not a strong one!

-Angst

The fire danced, flitting left and right. It was different than any other fire set in hell, it wasn't meant to hurt anyone or destroy anything. It was just a small flame, melancholically melting the dripping wax down the white lilac scented pillar. Floral scents were hard to come by unless you made them yourself, it was hell after all, its not like theres a flower garden planted on every corner. The candles single wick didn't produce more than a drop of light. It just flickered every now and then, entertaining its own little lonesome sway. Your demeanor softened as you looked at it from the petal filled bath you currently resided in.

Oddly you felt at peace, understood, almost comforted. You had learned to dance the same way it seemed. You caught yourself when you fell, twisting and turning to please an audience. It was a cruel existence. At least the flame looked content in some way, at least it would never know what it was like to contort under the will of another. Yet it was still a light in darkness, shining for no other reason than to survive...All it could ever do was take, even if it didn't want to, fire needs to burn. To burn it must destroy. You sighed sinking deeper into the bubbly water. You didn't want to think about your past. Not anymore. You didn't have to anymore anyway. Life had not been kind to you and that constant displeasure followed you through your death and into the pits of hell. Funny how suffering could follow biting desperately at your heels and the man who was so "desperately" in love with you in life just couldn't find it within himself to stay...God you sounded bitter. To be fair you were. After all he had ruined your life and he didn't even know it...It wasn't that bad was it? You probably would still be in hell regardless, even without his "involvement" or lack of- you had always been a sinner. It wasn't worth it to be upset, not anymore he's most likely dead, you definitely are, whose to say if he'd even wind up down here. You paused a moment, laughing at the silly conclusion overthinking had led you to.. no that fucker is definitely in hell. Sweet as he was up front, he had a dark side that went much deeper than his soft exterior could cover. You closed your eyes..

1923- Central New Orleans

Suddenly it was 1923. The flower lined streets of late spring in New Orleans. His smile never wavering as he dragged you from store to store. As your dear companion, and biggest supporter, he had asked you to assist him at the radio station. Now that you had finished school you would need a job anyway. You'd always had a beautiful voice and a knack for writing. It just made sense. His hand squeezed yours lightly pulling you from your thoughts. In his hands, he held a burgundy day dress and a matching bow.

"Darling, would you try this on for me? I believe it is high time you were rewarded for all of your hard work. I believe you would simply sparkle in this color"

You smile softly at his gentle tone, taking the delicate dress in your hands. You find yourself caught in his eyes. It feels like you two are the only people on the planet

You feel the familiar sensation of tears on your face, you open your eyes again, you hadn't realized you'd started crying.

you let out the shrill scream you didn't know you were holding in. the fluke of champagne you had so tediously been savoring since you began your bath cracked slightly. You downed the rest of the glass, and grabbed the bottle sitting lazily on the floor. You didn't want to think about him or your life anymore...but it consumed you. You had so many more important things to fret about in your..current..environment. Songs to sing, bitches to kill, people to fuck. A grand glorious array of newer shinier problems, and yet you were stuck sulking about the past. You take a deep breath shaking slightly despite the warm vanilla scented water surrounding you. You remove your hand from the water motioning to the shadow hiding behind a vase (of no more than slightly wilted roses). It slinks forward at your beckoning, climbing to the white marble countertop of your vanity, it clicks the worn down knob of your rickety old radio. light jazzy music trickles out and fills the air with lovesick nostalgia you weren't entirely prepared to let in. No matter what he had done...you would always fall back to him. Even if he was nothing more than ill-fated failed fourteen year "endeavor". fourteen years is quite a long time, even if the majority of it was spent more or less platonically. You really did love him. Love doesn't always follow those that leave, you are testimony and truth to that. You let your mind wander guided by the static filled notes of the radio.

Hey, hobo man

Hey, Dapper Dan

You've both got your style

But brother

You're never fully dressed

Without a smile!

Even through the shudder of the static, it really did sound like him. Despite being the "host" of the station. He had his fair share of performances. For such a Hell bound soul he had the voice of an angel.

You close your eyes once again and allow the melody to take you back to an easier time.

1926- New Orleans, Your apartment

You sing along with whatever tune the radio gives you. You're at peace, simply existing for no other reason than to be with your friend.

"Dance with me my little canary, your voice lights a fire within me"

He pulls you in by the waist. His hands splayed across your hips holding them with a gentleness you'd never expected him to hold for you. He leans his head down against the yours and places a chaste kiss on your forehead

"Alastor" you giggle, the sensation tickling you slightly. "You are quite ridiculous"

"Ridiculous?" he feigns hurt. "My darling I am so far from ridiculous the word does not find sense within my ears" he spins you around and into his chest, you roll your eyes ignoring his antics

"Dearest are you aware you are speaking with the future of radio?"

"The future of radio? Please Love, don't jest. The 20s surely have more in store than you" You laugh into his chest and he shockingly laughs with you.

Neither of you know it but you are both so drunk on the sound. To you, his laugh sounds like the swift church bells that used to ring throughout your home town whenever someone got married. It feels familiar and yet like a distant memory. It makes you want to hear it over and over again until your ears stop working, and even then you'd settle in just fine feeling the vibrations of his chest. He sounds like home. To him, your laugh sounds like the rushing creek and smooth algae covered stones resting deep beneath the trees draped in Spanish moss of his mothers cabin in the woods. Just hearing your laugh he can feel the spotted sunlight speckling his freckled face underneath the big willow tree. You sound like home. Everything about you- it felt like home to him. His hands were crafted to hold soft curves of your body. His ears were made to hear your voice and your voice alone. You were purpose, his home. You don't know it, but it is that realization that sparked the idea of marriage into his heart.

That fire was put out not long after.

You at least had those nine years as his friend, three years as his "copain" if you will- and two years as his fiancée...and so many years alone. You only spent 14 years in the company of this man. You had lived before knowing him a good 17 years, and a good long bit after.

Why were you so stuck?

You hum along subconsciously, the objects in your bathroom begin to glow a familiar pink, levitating slightly in the air as you continue to hum. Your ability isn't weak by any means, but for some reason you were. You were nothing in comparison to hells overlords, especially the newest trio of Vs. Your power is so deeply connected to your voice, how can you hold power when it doesn't belong to you anymore? You drift back to the memory of your arrival. Scared, alone, dressed a great deal less than modestly, and equipped with nothing more than a pair of horns, some wings you couldn't quite use yet, and a thin devil like tail. It was only your third hour in hell. You didn't understand the rules. You were playing a twisted game in which you didn't realize you were just another piece of.

Shock can make a person anxious and fear will make them stupid. He was tall and smelled distinctly of cigars, soured whiskey, and something pungently sweet you couldn't name. It burned your nose as you inhaled it. You would become well aquatinted with the smell of lust in the years to come, you just didn't know it yet. It seemed innocent at first, just a simple contract, no different than a job. All you had to do was sing and dance at a club, in exchange for safety. But it was different and it wasn't innocent. He was cruel and yet no different than so many of the men you had dealt with in life. He agreed to your terms of anonymity and thats about it. You had your private life and his life. Valentino never played fair. You didn't know that yet, and now you're hells favorite sinner, a least no one knew it was you. If he had asked you another day later you would have realized you could have probably fended for yourself, with some difficulty anyway. At least you wouldn't have to be in this mess. You wouldn't be fucking six people before noon. You wouldn't be constantly covered in bruises and scars...Maybe you could have found him, Alastor that is. Maybe you could have at least been friends again. Its silly to hope for anything more since your romantic relationship ended...✨the way it did✨

Your clothes may be Beau Brummelly

They stand out a mile

But brother

You're never fully dressed

Without a smile!

1931- New Orleans, The river

The two of you sit beside each other in a small wooden row boat. Your hair is tied back with your signature crimson ribbon. He fiddles with the pocket of his jacket. The Louisiana soundscape of crickets, frogs and running water accompanies your conversation. Fireflies light up the air, almost bringing the stars down to your fingertips. With a buzz and a gentle green glow, the small creature lands on your hand. Your smile leaks wonderment and Alastor can hardly contain the love he feels for you.

As a Radio Host, he is quite agile in the way of words, yet something about you has him constantly at a loss. He takes a deep breath, unsure of what to say his voice wavers as he begins to speak.

"y/n, I want to thank you for the effect you've had in my lif-"

"My love look at the stars!" You didn't mean to cut him off, Your arms stretched upwards your face turning to meet his. The stars were so much brighter then they were in the city, it was only natural for you to be excited

"Yes doll, I see them, they're the same as they were last night and many many nights before hand"

You let out an impatient huff

"that doesn't make them any less beautiful." a mischievous glint hides in your eyes "now wouldn't it be so dreadfully terrible if I got bored looking at you just because I've already seen you before?" You fake a yawn and look at him eyes seething with boredom

"It would be so dreadful considering I was about to propose to you"

There is no other word to describe what you felt other than shocked. You had been an item for quite some time, but you never figured he would stick around (and "seal the deal" if you will).

Tears begin to run down your face rambling small words of agreement and love. You had never expected him to..love you that way. He was who he was, a dreadfully popular radio host, and you weren't really anything more than an assistant. People really only listened for him..yet in this moment, he was speaking only for you.

"I love you so dearly my y/n. If life without you exists I do not want to exist through it"

Who cares what they're wearing

On Main Street

Or Saville Row

1934: New Orleans, Alastor's house

The house was empty. He was gone. Fully and truly gone. It had been a year since you'd seen or heard from him and six months since the birth of your son. It didn't feel like your house, it didn't feel like your life anymore. It was all still his. His things still bled into your side of the closet, his last purchase, a book, dust encrusted and unread. The blankets and pillows set on the couch exactly as you both had left them after falling asleep to the rain the night before he left wordlessly. You found yourself sporting one of his shirts more often than your own...until eventually they didn't smell like him anymore. The whole house used to reek of his signature vanilla smell. Theres nothing left here but dust and the crooked board of the desk he insisted he could build himself "just fine".

It's what you wear from ear to ear

And not from head to toe

That matters

1936- New Orleans; ✨that shitty bar you performed at✨

"Get the fuck up you bitch"

You felt his hand tangle in your hair and pull you to your knees. All you could do was groan in pain.

"I'm so sorry it won't happen again I promise"

You mutter almost to yourself. He rolls his eyes shoving you into the counter smashing a glass in the process. Your vision blurs for a second seeing the glass shards decorating your h/c locks in a halo. You feel the blood trickle down your forehead.

"Do you think anyone else would hire you? A whore with nothing to her name and a useless ugly bastard child from god knows who?" You feel angered at his words. Insulting you is one thing, but your child?

But then it sinks in, he's right. The 30s are a sick decade, nothing progressive about them. No one else would hire you. You are lucky to work here..despite it all. You tell yourself anything is better than living on the streets. The mantra doesn't dull the pain but it makes it easier to put up with. You don't have a choice. You have a child to take care of.

"Get rid of him"

you stay silent unsure if you heard him correctly.

"Get rid of the boy. I don't care if you leave him in a box on the street or kill him yourself"

He reaches for a small silver knife under the bar's counter. He places it against your throat.

" y/n..You won't like it if I do it dearest, besides you are saving him the shame of having a mother like you. At least if he's adopted elsewhere he has a chance at a half decent life" he took a deep swig from his un-shattered glass of whiskey, looking at you with such deep distain.

You had never hated anyone the way you hated that man..But he was right. You would never be able to give your baby the best life. It would never get better because you couldn't make it better. So you found a young couple not to far from New Orleans, they took him in, and he got to be happy. he ended up living a successful life. He still is. If nothing else theres that. You know your own misery doesn't automatically allow others to be happier, but at times its what keeps you going.

Your mind is flooded with more and more thoughts. Thousands of little memories pilling themselves on top of you. Who would've thought, even deceased, even owned by Valentino, even trapped in an ever so violent place, the real plight of hell would be your thoughts. You light a cigarette and get out of the tub. You throw on a dark red robe and sit on the vanity's counter to brush your damp hair. The song continues into a jazzy interlude before it reprises again

Your clothes may be Beau Brummelly

They stand out a mile

But, brother

You're never fully dressed

You're never dressed

Without a smile

You stretch out your wings in the mirror, looking at your demonic self. No matter how many times you catch yourself in the mirror, even after ten years of this hellish existence. It still strikes you as odd. You look more or less the same. The same hair color and skin tone, although slightly more grey. The tail was just fucking weird no matter how long you had it. The song erupts into the finale distracting you from your thoughts. You begin to sing along with it, smiling softly. It really does sound like him. The same pink glow takes over the room as well as your body, Your eyes begin to glow that same soft pink, your hair floating above your shoulders.

Who cares what they're wearing

On Main Street

Or Saville Row

It's what you wear from ear to ear

And not from head to toe

You're never fully dressed without a smile

The last line comes out much quieter than the rest. A sense of sadness overtakes you once again as you realize how pathetic this whole night turned out. You'd spent the whole night "Simping", as Velvette would say, over a relationship that ended decades ago. Yikes. The static from the radio clicks up a few notches, You cover your ears at the sudden noise. You quickly reach for the dial in order to turn off the device..And then you hear it. You hear him.

"Dearest.." Its almost unintelligible through the static

You think you've finally fucking lost it. Ten years in Hell and you've officially gone "delulu"...another Velvette saying but it feels fitting.

“y/n.”

He called softly, the static in his voice heavy and nearly unreadable.

You almost didn't believe it.

"Y/n" He repeats the static fizzling out leaving his voice raw and almost natural. Fuck this was real. You didn’t respond. You didn’t know how to. You weren't sure if he could even hear you..how he would respond? Would it be worse if he did? It had been an entire decade since you fell, All of this time- he never bothered to contact you. Why now? Why so much later?... Had he forgotten about you? Did he just..die? You cant discern which is worse...that he had left you and your son and lived a long guilt free life...or that he made no attempt to even speak to you in the decade you had inhabited the same existence.

Ok that was all like exposition and shit..considering part two but I AM VERY TIRED RN

#alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel #fanfic #god this is kinda ass #tumblr is my shit hole and i will scream whatever I want into the void #lol what even is this #alastor died oops #y/n #y/n fics are my last mental defense before massive decline

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anitalenia · 9 months

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𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝓶𝔂 𝓵𝓸𝓼𝓽 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮. ⊹ ۪ 𖥔 sukuna.

⋆˙⟡♡ 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒎𝒚 𝒍𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆. ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ 𝒔𝒖𝒌𝒖𝒏𝒂 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒚𝒐𝒖 ℎ𝑎𝑑 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔, 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑐𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑖𝑡 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆, 𝑢𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑙 ℎ𝑒 𝑙𝑒𝑓𝑡 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑐𝑎𝑚𝑒 𝑏𝑎𝑐𝑘, 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒛𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒉𝒆 𝒍𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒎𝒊𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒉𝒆 𝒉𝒂𝒅. ˚୨୧⋆｡

┈ ᛫ ᤲ 𝒔𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔 ✦𓈒 𓆇 sukuna and you had something, could call it love, before you left him, but he was too obsessed with power, mad with the idea of being king again and killing all those Jujutsu high kids who always seemed to foil his plans. still, he came to you when he needed to, and you didn’t make any complaints. until one night he comes to you once more, realizing what he lost and missing what he had.

┈ ᛫ ᤲ 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒊𝒏𝒄𝒍𝒖𝒅𝒆𝒔 ✦𓈒 𓆇 sweet sukuna, injured sukuna, makeup sex in a way, soft + rough-ish sex, kissing + making out, hand around throat but not choking, lip biting, neck biting, shoulder biting, missionary position, kinda dom!Sukuna because obvi, hand holding during sex, back scratching, body worship kinda, pussy eating + oral fem receiving, clit stimulation, pet names such as rosie, pretty girl, pretty, dirty talk + nasty words, unprotected sex *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ minors do not interact | sexual content 18+

┈ ᛫ ᤲ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 ✦𓈒 𓆇 sexual content 18+, mentions of killing, strong descriptions of blood, bloody wounds and broken-ish hearts. non accurate descriptions of fixing wounds that you definitely shouldn’t follow, plot holes and inconsistencies 🥰 a Japanese translation of a word that might not be accurate (I’m a white girlie what do I know about Japanese language), I use the word growl way way too much (but in my defense they need better synonyms)

┈ ᛫ ᤲ 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆 ✦𓈒 𓆇 thank you for reading, I love me a grumpy baby sukuna 💕 I didn’t really write this one how I wanted to write it, but I didn’t want to just delete it all either, so here it is 😜🥲 also I didn’t really like the way I wrote the smut so oh well.

✧˖°.♡︎˙ᵕ˙⋆｡°✩ 𝐈𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐀 𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐀𝐘 night when Sukuna came to you; the wind was brisk and harsh like the black waves of an Arctic Ocean, the air frosty and sharp, stabbing into your delicate skin like pine needles. It whistled in your ears and pulled at your hair, biting into you in a fashion so familiar for the beginning of December. It burned the back of your throat every time you inhaled, your nose a raw pink color and your teeth chattering between fogs of warm breath. Your fragile skin was left prickled and shivering under the pale moonlight, the chill carving a path straight to your bones, swimming in your veins like ice water and making your blood run cold.

You had your arms wrapped around yourself in nothing but your silky black robe, quivering in the dim yellow light of your door step as you felt worry bleed into you, eyes straining in the darkness, scanning the dim street light, the snow covered lawn, the silent empty street, for the man your heart pounded so anxiously for.

It was that cold Friday night when Sukuna came to you, hidden in the dark shadow of night and smelling of copper and smoke, trudging through the white snow in blood stained footsteps and falling at your feet with a groan. He was pale and shirtless, covered in scratches and seeping wounds you weren’t sure he’d recover from; he was still so weak, born again but not yet risen to his full potential, vulnerable still; a fawn learning how to use its legs. Blood pearled through burned fingertips as he’d hold his injuries, claws dried in rich blood and his pink hair matted with frost and dirt.

You couldn’t stop the shocked gasp.

“Oh my god!”

You hurriedly grabbed at his forearm and waist — his soft skin cold as ice, ignoring his groans and growls as you’d use all your strength to help him stand up, your own bones rigid and fatigued as the cold crept up your spine and made goosebumps crawl over your arms and legs. Blood stained your hands and dripped at your feet, staining the concrete with rich red drops, your nose tingling and lips grimacing at the metallic smell of it.

“Those brats…” He growled lowly, blood spitting out on his chin and lips, a clawed hand gripping his waist where one of his worser injuries were, his other arm hung over your shoulder as you struggled to drag his limp body into the warmness of your small home.

You dragged him through the house, knocking over a vase in the process that shattered to the floor in several small pieces. The sound shocked you, but Sukuna’s pained moan shocked you worse as you managed to set him on your couch, as gentle as you could be, blood trailing on your wooden floor and soaking into the crimson red covers of your love seat.

Your own blood rushed through your ears as you quickly scampered off to your bathroom and gathered alcohol and rags, Band-Aids and towels, anything you thought could’ve helped him as his faint grunts and pained hisses could be heard throughout your hallway. You were sloppy, dropping things on the ground and leaving cabinets opened as you hurried back out to the living room.

“I’ll kill them, I’ll kill them all… all of those Jujutsu rats.”Sukuna spat out quietly, voice thick with rage and crumbling with pain, muttering more to himself than he was talking to you pointedly. You sighed at that, pity and concern creeping in your heart like sprouting flowers, walking over to where Sukuna lay and squatting down next to him.

You should’ve known this had something to do with Jujutsu High, it always did when he was this angry, this hurt. Still, you couldn’t help but be a little disappointed that Sukuna was still focusing on the same things, a madness taken over him that had him driving down the same endless myriad of roads that never lead the way he wanted them to. Things never changed with him, a hard lesson learned a long time ago.

He was laid on his back, one foot hanging off the edge of the seat and the other bent at the knee, leaned against the cushion. His hands were both on his stomach, where most of the blood seemed to come from, thick and red like paste, smeared over his skin. You almost felt dizzy looking at it. Sweat beaded at his hairline and dirt was smeared across his smooth skin and black markings, mouth twisted in pain and fangs poking out threateningly from between his red lips. Each breath was long and slow with disgruntled groans and hisses between ever so often.

You set your things down on the floor next to you, hands shaking and dried with blood splatter. Sukuna opened his four red eyes with a grimace at the sound of it, looking down at you as if you were something unfamiliar, a stranger to a frightened animal, distrusting and hesitant.

You looked back up at him, brow raised and eyes narrowed at the incredulous hesitance stained in his own eyes.

“Don’t give me that look. You came to me.” You pointed out softly, giving him a stern look that had him stubbornly glaring back at you with a frown.

The faint whisper of candle flame could be heard as you ignored the urge to roll your eyes at Sukuna, knowing this was a sensitive time for him and knew it was in your best interest not to ruin his mood any further.

The dim golden light of your living room, lit by the glow of firelight and candles, exaggerated the sharpness of Sukuna’s face, accentuated the shadow of his muscles and the redness of his eyes. You were almost distracted by the beauty of it, but you knew better than to be.

“Don’t be such a brat, I’m not in the mood.” He grumbled, his eyes closing once more as he leaned his head back slowly on the puffy red cushion; a pain throbbing in his temples. You didn’t bother arguing with him, just giving him another docile, sympathetic sigh as your eyes ran over his face with a gentle fondness.

A few beats of silence buzzed between you as your eyes ran over his cuts and burns, soaking in the rare sight and battered appearance of such a strong curse like Sukuna, a man (thing) who, as long as you’ve known him, had never been one to lose to anything. You knew that fact hurt him all the more, knowing a simple group of sorcerers seemed to always get the best of him.

Your eyes lingered on the gash on his stomach, his burned fingertips, ears intently focused on every pained breath and wheeze that left his lips. Worry pulled at your heart like it was plucking strings, thrumming through your blood and making your throat close up, looking back up at Sukuna with a particular agony of your own.

“What happened, ‘una? Who did this to you?” You spoke quietly in the dim golden light, a frown on your lips as your eyes burned with tears, a consequence of your worry. You could hear the wind rattling the trees from outside, harsh snow coming down now and melting into your windows.

You knew Sukuna didn’t adjust well to emotions, especially tears, but seeing him so mad and in so much pain it made your chest heavy with unknown guilt and sadness, a pit in your stomach that made you feel sick. You felt the need to help him despite his despair being his own stubborn fault. You always did, you couldn’t help it — a flaw really, you always cared too much for things that didn’t deserve it.

He opened his eyes once more, slowly, his red hues running over your face and observing the sad pull of your pink lips and the wet sheer in your sparkly eyes. He could admit to himself that he hated seeing you like that, seeing you sad for him. He didn’t like pity, didn’t appreciate sympathy; he was higher than the minuscule emotions that plagued humanity, the very existence of his own power and grandness going beyond the scale of human morality. But with you, he couldn’t deny that it was for a different reason entirely.

Sukuna could see that you were genuine; he faltered when he was about to snap out a rude response (from instinct more than anything), but when he saw the concern in your doe eyes he couldn’t help but swallow down his disrespect, eyes narrowed at you and his jaw clenched tightly, as if swallowing his own anger.

“That white-haired devil. He knew I’d be there somehow, brought those idiot children… I should’ve seen it!” He growled once more, looking away from you as the memory of earlier that evening played in his mind, a rage burning through him that distracted him from the pain, eyes furiously blazing with something murderous, his sharp teeth bared and a bloody mix of saliva trailing down his cheek in a sheer pink line as his veins throbbed. You felt your own fear jolt through you that had your muscles tense up and skin prickle, never seeing Sukuna so angry before, much less having seen him lose a fight.

“Shhh, you need to lay down, your wounds!” You instinctively put a hand on Sukuna’s shoulder when he tried to pick himself up, a clenched groan escaping his twisted lips when he bent his midsection. You pushed him back down rather roughly when he resisted your strength, eyes widened at the groan of pain that sounded from him.

“Okay, listen, I know you’re angry, but you’re hurt, and that’s more important than whatever revenge scheme you’re coming up with right now.” You scolded, exasperated, Sukuna looking at you like you had just struck him.

“Besides, you wouldn’t win any fight in the state you’re in anyway.” You mumbled quietly, taking your hand off an offended Sukuna who growled in response, turning your head and grabbing your damp rag from the mess of supplies next to you.

“Of course I’d win.” He grumbled almost childishly with that deep, scratchy voice of his, looking you up and down with a disgruntled expression.

You felt an amused smile pull at your lips, a chuckle bubbling in your throat at his stubborn behavior.

You looked back up at Sukuna with the rag in your hand, looking into the embers of his eyes as you spoke softly, “Of course you would. Now move your arms, I need to clean the blood off of you, your stomach got the worst of it…”

Sukuna stared at you, eyes narrowed slightly as they ran over your face, from your hair flowing down your back, to your eyes looking at his stomach anxiously, to your pink lips, pale and dry. He even noticed the blood on your robe, the dried patches on your collarbone and wrist. His eyes lingered on the robe though, familiarity striking him as he zoned in on the stitched red letters of 薔薇 (rose), right above your heart, just below your collarbone.

He stared at it, a fond memory surfacing in his brain that had him short circuiting, eyes looking back up at your face as he cocked his head at you with a glare, a growl gurgling in the back of his throat like it was your fault that he felt the way he did.

He felt something incredibly unfamiliar swirl in his stomach and claw at his heart; a mix of guilt, of anger, for getting that damned robe so dirty with his own sweat and blood.

“What is it?” You asked, always so concerned. You furrowed your brows, noticing the distant look in his eyes as he stared at you, his lips still twisted and eyebrows pressed together like your very face caused him great anguish.

“Why do you always have to leave? Why can’t you stay? Forget about those Jujutsu High people, just stay with me…”

“I can’t. Not until they’re all dead. Not until their blood is dripping down my hands and flooding the streets of this wretched city. Not until I’m King again. Once they’re gone there will be nothing in my way, nothing to stop me from having my throne, nothing that can come between me and my full power. Once I have that, I will have everything, nothing will ever be able to stop me again.”

“…is that really all that matters to you?”

You looked over Sukuna’s face with a pink blush at the awkwardness of it all, his crimson eyes, hard and piercing, boring into you with an aggrieved frown; the memory of something now unattainable playing behind those eyes of his that you knew nothing about. You felt anxiousness run through your blood as you placed a strand of hair behind your ear, somehow embarrassed at the way he was just staring at you.

“Sukuna, what’s the problem, are you okay?” You laughed nervously, like a doting school girl in the way he used to make you giggle so much, your eyes flickering between the rag in your hands and his stare; you were never able to make eye contact with him that long, he always flustered you too much.

But, you supposed, it was wrong to dwell on those things now.

Sukuna’s eyes danced between yours some more, watching and remembering like he was staring into a glittering pair of nostalgic television sets. His lips, tinged with blood splatter and chapped with dry skin, were set in an irate frown as those same guilty, unfamiliar, feelings swirled in his chest like a wicked brew, but also… something else. Something worse, something more painful, something dull but vibrant that burned through his conscious like a twinkling star.

“You still have that, huh?” He groused with that deep voice of his, voice thick but still remaining disinterested, his bloody hand moving up from his stomach (where strings of blood snapped between his palm and him) as his sharp claw poked at the red letters on your heart.

You furrowed your brows at what he meant, glancing down to where he poked you when the red stitching caught your eye and it all just made sense.

You faltered for a moment as your mind flashed back to the same moment his must’ve, staring down at it as a melancholic feeling settled in the pit of your stomach at the memory. Yes, you had never gotten rid of it, a pathetic attempt to hold on to you as it was the only thing I had left besides the pain you left behind. You looked back up at Sukuna with a solemn expression, your eyes flickering between his in uncertainty and sadness for a moment before you looked back at his stomach.

You really needed to fix that already.

“Um, well yeah. It was a gift, remember?” You gave him a small smile as you glanced back up at his eyes, the need to cry suddenly very real and heavy on your chest. You didn’t want to tell him the truth, tell him you missed him, and that for the first few weeks after he left it still smelt of him, smelt of smoke and cinnamon, rosemary and clary sage.

You couldn’t find the strength in yourself to throw it away even after the smell faded, nor could you stop the anger that flooded you every time you saw it. It was the only thing you had left of him besides the heartache, but at least that was invisible with the potential to be ignored. Not the robe, that was something physical and very much existent that just reminded you that you weren’t as okay as you made yourself believe.

Honestly, you hadn’t realized you were wearing it, damning yourself for buying one so similar.

Sukuna didn’t respond to that, just stared at you with a vexed expression like you were some riddle he couldn’t figure out, some ingredient he couldn’t taste, and it pissed him off. Still, he couldn’t help it when he reached back over and traced his finger over the red stitching, brows furrowed and eyes burning, his black claw scratching against it as he felt your body freeze underneath him. He could feel your heart beating rapidly under his finger, a spot of blood smearing over the letters from his bloody hand.

“Sukuna! Oh my god, I love it! But now I feel bad, i didn’t get you anything…”

“eh, don’t make it a big deal, alright?… But you like it, huh?”

“I love it, I love it love it love it!”

“Mm, good. How about you try it on for me, princess? Then give your King a proper thank you…”

“Okay, I will. But, seriously, thank you. I’ll always wear it. I love it.”

“Yeah, yeah, you better, you brat…”

Sukuna retracted his hand slowly, the silence between you heavy and buzzing with all those feelings you didn’t want to share, all those memories you didn’t want to think about. Your lips tightened as you looked over his face for some reflection of what he was thinking, your skin tingling at just the feel of his finger tracing your heart. You wondered if he could feel how quickly it beat for him, but knew that of course he did.

You swallowed nervously, adjusting your robe to cover the area of skin he had accidentally exposed. The stain of blood on the red lettering didn’t go unnoticed to you. It was painfully ironic.

Sukuna took your distraction as his outing, his eyes dropping from yours as he grunted and laid his head back on the pillow. He didn’t want to think about that, his mood already well and soured. Still, he couldn’t help the way his stomach tightened with a newfound sickness — sick with his choices? Most definitely. He closed his eyes and adjusted himself so he was more facing the cushion than you, an annoyed quirk on the edge of his sharp lip that let his white fang peek out.

He hated all these goddamn feelings. They were confusing and they hurt, hurt worse than any wound on his physical being that a mortal could give him.

“Hurry up, will ya? I’m tired.” He spoke in that annoyed tone like you were nothing more than a hassle for him, a pest he was shooing away. You frowned at that, the moment you two shared, dare you even call it that, now in shambles at your knees as you rolled your eyes at him in newfound annoyance; not just for his careless attitude, but also for making you remember.

“You know, you should really be nicer to me, I’m the only one who helps your grumpy ass.” You mumbled rudely, but just as honestly, scooting closer to the couch and reaching over to grab Sukuna’s wrist from where he was still covering the bloody wound. You moved it a little, grimacing at the way the blood had dried and was sticky all over his abdomen, smeared over his abs and sitting heavy in your nose like an essential oil.

You were just thankful the blood had stopped coming.

Sukuna flinched when you grabbed his wrist, his body tensing as he released a small growl like he was some feral dog. You could almost laugh at it if he didn’t irritate you so fucking much; you couldn’t believe he was still so stubborn despite always depending on you to help him. It made annoyance seep through your bones, more so than ever before.

“You need to move your arm or I won’t be able to clean it. You’re the one who wanted me to hurry up, aren’t you?” You sassed, having no patience for his attitude like you did earlier, raising a brow at him to dare him to try and rebuttal.

Sukuna glared at you despite knowing you were right, not appreciating his words (or your attitude for that matter) being thrown back at him. He relaxed his muscle though after a short stubborn moment, his hand going soft in your grasp so you could move it away.

“Be gentle. It hurts.” He hissed at you like a troublesome child when you went to move his arm again. You slowly raised his arm (but not before giving him a sour expression to show your distaste), with as gentle as a touch as you could muster, and carefully set it off to the side. He raised it to his head and set it behind him, propping his head on his arm as he stared down at you untrustingly.

You sighed in exasperation, giving him a look between annoyed and even more annoyed as you leaned over and gently ran the rag over the dried blood surrounding the wound. You realized the blood made it look a lot worse than it was; a simple deep cut that was mostly likely caused from some sort of weapon. You were curious on the details of what exactly happened, but you most certainly knew better than to ever ask him.

A few moments of silence passed as you washed away at the blood, red droplets running down his sides and most likely staining your loveseat. You were glad it was red, a purchase made shortly after meeting Sukuna as there were plenty of nights spent just like this one. The white rag quickly became tinged with pink, but some spots were harder to scrub than others from where the blood had crusted for so long on his skin.

You glanced up at Sukuna, where his eyes were now closed but his mouth was still twisted into a grumpy scowl. You would say he looked a little cute, like a pouting puppy more than a murderous curse, but no, you weren’t going to say that nor admit it to yourself. It was always hard to keep those thoughts away; your mind had become so consumed with him when you were together that it was hard to just forget about him now.

You looked back down, hoping Sukuna wouldn’t notice when you pressed down just a little harder, only a little on a stubborn patch of blood by his belly button. Of course, you just as soon regretted it as Sukuna’s clawed hand came down quicker than you could think and snatched at your fist with a pained hiss.

“I said gentle, woman!” He spat, viridian eyes enraged and sharp teeth glistening under the dim orange light. Your eyes widened in initial shock before they glared down at where his hand was gripping yours. You hissed at the tight hold on your knuckles, snapping your head at him. The genuine pain swirling in his irises did little to subdue your own anger.

“Oh my god, okay!” You exclaimed in utter frustration, snatching your hand out from under his with a scoff and a shake of your head.

Sukuna let out an almost threatening sound from the bottom of his throat, glowering at you for a few moments like you had just hurt him personally. Still, his eyes couldn’t help but wander to the way your hair fell around your shoulders; you’d always been beautiful, far more beautiful than he ever really deserved. He stared at you a little longer than he should have, thankfully unknown to you. Looking at you like this only made him feel like shit, remembering what he had done.

It made him feel sick and lost; at the way he treated you and yet you stuck around. Had you really loved him? You must’ve, you always stayed when in reality you should’ve left long ago. Even now, you always helped him despite how he treated you, Sukuna wasn’t blind to it. He saw you roll your eyes at him and this mournful feeling settled heavy in his heart (when had he gotten one) — he was still grieving over the loss of you and he didn’t think he’d ever get you back.

Sukuna gave you one last glare for being so damn distracting before he relaxed once more in the love seat. You have managed yet again to bring out these feelings in him that made him want to throw up and he hated it. He laid flat on his back, wincing as he did, clenching his jaw and letting out a low snarl at the predicament he was in.

You settled down yourself, letting out a huff as you glanced back up at him in exasperation. You couldn’t believe the temper he still had, you even found it mildly amusing. You looked back at his abdomen, where pink water droplets dripped from your hand and down his side. You resumed gently washing away at the blood coating him, “All that time to yourself and you still haven’t fixed those anger issues it seems…”

Sukuna’s eyes snapped open at that, his ears picking up the end of your grumbled sentence.

“What’d you say, brat?” He hissed with a dark glare, looking down at you with an expression of utter offense at your statement.

You glanced up at him, your eyes running over that familiar face with a smile you couldn’t stop from stretching over your lips. Your eyes ran over his scowl, the fierceness of his glare, a small giggle bubbling in your throat. You put your head back down and continued rubbing the blood off of him as though he couldn’t see the wide, bemused smile on your lips.

Sukuna instantly felt confused at your reaction, his eyebrows furrowing as he stared down at you with a dumbfounded expression.

“What’s so funny? Why are you laughing?” He scoffed at you, like he was offended that he was the only one not in on your joke, glaring at the way you only seemed to laugh just a bit harder at him. His eyes were immediately drawn to your lips, the curve od your smile and the sweet sound of your laugh that seemed to make his heart pound in his ears. He glanced at your grin then back to your eyes before you could notice.

You bit your lip to stop the giggles, smiling through your teeth as you glanced up at him and his confused (hilarious) expression.

“Oh, nothing. Just lay back down.” You sighed whimsically, smiling to yourself as you went back to cleaning the blood off of his waist, albeit not as concentrated as you were before — a way to distract yourself from looking back up at him. It was something though, of course it was something, but it was also something you most definitely didn’t want to talk about. You’d hoped he’d ignore it, but of course he wouldn’t.

Sukuna scowled at you, grabbing at the rag in your hand and ignoring the sting of pain that shot through him as he leaned forward towards you, his shadow crossing your face.

“Tell me, I demand it.” He ordered, his hold tightening on your hand as his glare worsened.

You had froze when he grabbed you, almost embarrassingly so, your eyes lingering on his hand that was conjoined with yours (always bigger and full of so much power) for a moment before you cleared your throat of any remaining laughter. To this day, he could still make you feel so nervous.

“Oh, you demand it, huh?” You almost laughed at that as you looked back up at him, eyes quickly finding his in the daze of candle smoke and blood. You staggered for no particular reason, missing the way he always used to look at you. You managed to compose yourself though as a wide, amused smile at his dramatics pulled on your lips instead. He couldn’t help but linger on it, hand still on top of yours like you both weren’t aware of it.

Sukuna couldn’t help the irritated sound that fell from his lips, rolling his eyes at you before giving you a really look (it only made you smile harder at him).

“Oh, it’s nothing. It’s just… whenever we were together you would always get so offended when I would say anything about your anger issues. It’s just funny that it still bothers you, that’s all.” You smiled fondly — bitterly, at the memory of it, shrugging your shoulders nonchalantly as though speaking of it didn’t affect you as much as it really did.

Truth was, of course it affected you. It was just supposed to be a fleeting thought, a fleeting memory shoved to the surface that was quickly drowned. But he just had to know, and now it was all you could think about. It made your heart sink, sadness filling in your chest cavity like syrup, thick and heavy and bitter in your blood.

The smile slowly fell from your face as you looked back down at his wound, which was slowly healing itself. You looked at his hand, which was still tight around yours (having to fight the urge to turn your palm and intertwine his fingers with yours). You couldn’t bare to see the look on his face at your response, feeling embarrassed for being so vulnerable so quickly, feeling embarrassed that you spoke with him like he was nothing but a friend. He wasn’t a friend to you, he wasn’t supposed to be anything anymore. But he was and it was silly of you to try and disregard that fact.

You knew he was more, he was always more, so here you were, blushing and smiling like he was still with you, like he wasn’t here to use your services then leave as he did every few months. You were silly and love drunk, blissed out on the memories and the hope of his return. It was ridiculous. Yes, You missed him — you absolutely hated to admit that fact but it was blaring in your head, obvious and flashing, obvious in the way you cared for his wounds every time he came, obvious in the way you welcomed him back in time and time again. It was so painfully obvious you still hoped for him, and these little visits of his did nothing but ruin you more.

You sighed as your eyes started to burn, hand clenching the rag for dear life to try and stop them from coming. You had to be stronger than this, strong like all those times you’d seen him before in the year and half he’s been gone.

Sukuna stared at you for a while, his grip loosening on your hand as he thought about what you just said.

Whenever we were together.

He felt bad, to put it simply. He didn’t ever think he’d miss you, a mortal, like he has. He didn’t ever think he’d need you, a mortal, at his side when he became King again, he didn’t ever think he’d need anyone. He was Sukuna, King of the Curses and one of the most powerful beings on earth. He could have any woman he wanted, absolutely anything he desired, he was just that powerful. He knew that when he met you, the only sorcerer to never try to kill him, the only girl he’d ever faltered for.

When did he lose sight of that? He was evil, he wasn’t meant to live or love but here he was, already having lived and loved beyond what he was meant to. Loved? Loved. He did love you but he always loved power more, he loved you but… he screwed it all up and you left him. He thought he was fine with that, thought that you were just a waste of time he granted his attention to, a speck in his endless story of immortality and struggle, but then you left and he didn’t have you anymore. Was power ever really worth it compared to you? He was alone, but wasn’t that what he wanted in the first place? He didn’t need anyone, didn’t need you, a mortal, to be by his side when he took his throne at the flames of the world.

That’s what he thought.

But then you left him like any self respecting woman would have and he had missed you, missed you so much more than a curse like him was supposed to feel. He missed your smile and your hands, your touch and your pretty eyes. He knew he wasn’t the best man around, never treated you quite fairly and always considered you second to his crown, but it didn’t take him long after your disappearance to realize how foolish that was. It wasn’t his strength that made him dinners at night, it wasn’t money that kissed him on his cheek and held his hand, and it wasn’t power that loved him like you did.

He knew he had lost sight of what was most important, he knew that but he was too stubborn to admit it to anyone, even himself, especially you. He had been chasing a fantasy, an idea, when you were right there all along. He was so stupid, but he was greedy and selfish above all. He wanted you but he wanted power, and you proved that he couldn’t have both.

What was he doing here? Why did he always come to you when he needed help? Why did he ever let you leave and why did he keep using you like this? Really he had no one else to turn to, and if he did die he wanted it to be with you, in your arms or by your hand. It was sappy and sentimental but it was the truth. Yes, he was evil, he was supposed to be evil, take what he wanted and use what he needed with no care for others.

But you… he couldn’t be that way with you even when he first met you. You had softened him up, but it still wasn’t enough to change him completely. He still craved endless strength and reign above all, after all he was created to kill anything that got in his way. He needed to destroy and plunder, do the sins he was born to do and burn the world to ashes.

But… he didn’t want to do any of that without his queen by his side. Why was he doing this? Why was he doing this to you? All these questions and no answers, a year and a half of hopelessness and loneliness, a year and a half of chasing something that would never satisfy him like you did; teetering on the edge of a cliff but never quite falling in. He wanted to with you. Fall into that dark abyss of uncertainty and fear with your hand in his, just as it was intended.

He didn’t necessarily plan on admitting that tonight though, but seeing you with that damned robe on and your hair so shiny and smooth the way he liked it… he could feel his resolve slipping away like warm honey. Damn, he really did miss you.

And now, you just had to go and say that and make him feel even worse. When we were together…

Ryomen Sukuna clenched his jaw at the weight behind that simple statement, his eyes running over your face for any sign of the pain he knew you felt inside — or what he could see of it through the strings of your hair.

He left the hand that was on top of yours there, almost squeezing it underneath his in an uncharacteristic effort of intimacy. He heard you let out the quietest sniffle, his chest caving in as his eyes flickered worriedly around your frame. He felt a need to comfort you pull at his dark heart, but he wasn’t quite sure what to do and felt utterly powerless.

He shyly brought his other hand up, hesitant, not wanting you to flinch away from him, not wanting to scare you off.

The silence was almost too much to bear between you as you refused to look at him, feeling weak and stupid for bringing it up.

Sukuna delicately laid his palm on the back of your head, his skin stained with his blood and crusted to his claws. You didn’t move when he touched you, very gently stroking your hair once you didn’t move away from him. He clenched his jaw, wanting to grab more of you from just that small touch alone.

You closed your eyes at the feeling, savoring the tingles on your scalp with every brush of his hand. You thought it was kind of sweet of him, his own way of comforting you that was already so uncomfortable for him to be doing. You were grateful for it, slightly leaning into the warmth of his touch, not caring about the dried blood on his fingers.

Sukuna let it be silent for a few soft moments, relishing in the feeling of you under his palm again.

“You should go to sleep, brat. I‘ve got the rest.” He mumbled in that aggressively caring (but somehow nonchalant) way that he does. You just appreciated the fact that he was trying at all.

You hadn’t heard that tone in a long time; it raised goosebumps on your skin that had a small smile gracing your lips. It was well needed and washed over you like a velvet curtain.

You were tired, but you didn’t want to leave him by himself like this, leave him to clean his own wounds (although they were his own), but you cared too much to ever leave him alone, another reason why you always so graciously helped him when he wanted you to. Besides, you didn’t want to leave him injured like this, bleeding on your couch and covered in dirt, knowing he still needed help despite not saying it.

You raised your head up to look at him, your eyes and cheeks tinted a soft shade of pink.

“Are you sure? I can do this for you, I don’t mind it, you know that.” You protested, his nails scratching into your head in a tingly way that made your eyes droopy.

He gazed back at you with a softer expression, one that made you weak and doting at his bedside. You missed when he’d look at you like that, like he really cared about you more than his dreams of world domination. His eyes looked over your face, the need to bring you closer sizzling and suffocating, so much so you almost thought he would (hoped he would). He kept his hand in your hair, but the petting stopped the longer you looked at him, a sudden intimacy soft in the air between you as you looked into his eyes.

He frowned at the look on your face, almost pitiful, the aftermath of a few quiet tears you’d hoped he didn’t notice (he always knew).

“Go.” He spoke quietly, voice deep and rumbly like brittle mountains that made a shiver crawl up your spine. It made your mouth dry at the intensity of his gaze, your chest fluttering at the unnecessary kindness. You wonder what changed. You sighed at the silent demand in his voice, wanting to stay, but judging from the daring way he raised his eyebrow at you you knew it was futile to argue.

“Fine. But don’t move too much, and don’t clean any of this, i’ll get it tomorrow. Just try to get some rest now okay? You need to heal. Those wounds are worse than the other ones you’ve had.” You ordered gently as you raised yourself off your knees — they popped as you did so, and set the rag on the table. Your hands were a little bloody as well, knowing you looked almost a big of a mess as he did. Sukuna’s hand fell off your head as you rose, his nails lingering on a few strands of hair until they fell from his reach.

He put his hands behind his head and looked up at you, his eyes gazing over your form in a way he wasn’t able to before. Could say it was a form of admiration, but you didn’t want to reach. You glanced back at him, at his chest and abs that were sharp and bloody in the golden light of the living room. You scolded yourself, knowing you really shouldn’t be looking at him in that way.

“Yeah, yeah. I think I can handle it.” He rolled his eyes at you, words full of sarcasm and dismissal. You gave him a sarcastic smile back, taking a step forward and leaning down towards him to adjust the pillow behind his head. You were grateful that the both of you mutually decided to just forget about the moment that happened just mere seconds ago, you couldn’t handle the embarrassment that would come with his teasing.

Sukuna looked up at you as you leaned towards him, his eyes curiously looking up at yours, head almost titling up towards you. You ignored his proximity, the smell of rosemary and smoke on your nose that masked the heavy scent of pennies in the air.

You swallowed when you looked at his lips, then back to his eyes, flustered now at the way he seemed to have expected you to do something else.

You cleared your throat, awkwardly fixing the pillow behind his head. He looked at your own lips, your hair falling around his head and tickling his shoulders. He felt his heart race, the urge to reach up and just take your lips in his strong and burning in his chest.

“Whatever you say.” You mumbled between his face and yours before quickly turning around, a blush on your cheeks and a heat lingering on your skin.

Sukuna watched as you started walking towards the hallway, intent on taking a shower to wash the blood off yourself, eyes glued to you as disappointment sunk in his chest at the missed opportunity. He clenched his jaw in frustration, looking at how pretty you were in candlelight.

You stopped at the corner of the hall, your cheeks burning as you tried to catch a breath of false confidence, not wanting him to see how easily affected you were by him even after all this time. It was almost pathetic how quickly he could make you blush. You inhaled, face covered by the corner of the wall so he couldn’t see you, then exhaled in an attempt to calm your heartbeat.

You turned your head, noticing how he was already staring at you with dark eyes. You looked back at him, wanting to say so much more than you should, an ache in your chest that pained your heart at seeing him again.

“Goodnight, pinkie.” You smirked at him, knowing how much he hated when you called him that. It was just a silly nickname you always called him when you were together, a tease to his pink hair that started from the beginning of the relationship. You weren’t sure if you should’ve said it but you needed something to break the tension you could feel weighing down on your shoulders.

Shockingly, Sukuna didn’t glare at you like you thought he would have, like he usually would have. His expression was blank and unreadable, dare you say heartfelt at the way his eyes softened so uncharacteristically, looking back at you with a hard stare. You swore you could feel the air get warmer.

“Goodnight, Rosie.”

You faltered as you turned back around to leave, your hand coming up to your chest like he’d just snatched the air out of your lungs.

Rosie.

He hadn’t called you that since he loved you, or so you thought he did. It was something so simple but so important, a small detail among the bigger picture that made your heart flutter; you couldn’t believe he even remembered that, that he cared enough to call you it again.

You couldn’t stop the smile that spread over your lips like a lovesick fool, giddy and bashful as you walked to your room with confusing thoughts in your head.

Goodnight, Rosie.

Sukuna had taken a shower shortly after you retired to your room, the heat much needed on his cold skin as blood and grime swirled down the drain in a spiral of red and black. He stared at it blankly, hot water washing over his bruised body and unveiling all the cuts he didn’t even know were there, bathroom steaming with a thick smog that fogged up the mirror and the space around him.

He was thinking about you then, lost in a trance, thinking intently about you and your smile, thinking about how it used to shine for him but now it only shined at the memory of him — he should’ve appreciated that as that was enough, it should have been enough for him as it would’ve been for any man who betrayed the woman they loved. He was lucky he was still a sore memory and not a bitter regret, he was lucky you still even smiled around him at all. He was lucky now just as he’d been lucky before, but he wasn’t as foolish now as he was then either.

He had been thinking about this for some time actually, just a few months after the loneliness and heartbreak had really settled into his bones. It took a while, but eventually he couldn’t deny the stiffness in his joints and the heavy weight on his chest, the feeling of your loss crushing his rib cage and suffocating him.

Even these little pathetic visits of his were a lame excuse for the real reason behind why he wanted to see you; but it still surprised him that you never turned him away, not even the first time he showed up at your door with bloody knuckles and bruised skin. You most certainly weren’t as hospitable as you are now, barely gave him a blanket to sleep with after you threw a rag at him. Still, you never kicked him out and he’d wake up with the blanket wrapped around him anyway.

It was a sweet, short lived moment before he’d have to leave again.

You were always so sweet, sweeter than you gave yourself credit for. Sukuna always loved and loathed that about you; you were too trusting sometimes despite knowing the dangers of the real world — but then again Sukuna was the most dangerous thing of all, what could possibly scare you now? You were too sweet and it contradicted him greatly; he always considered himself rude… rude and harsh, apathetic to life’s many sorrowful woes and uncaring for measly mortal lives. Humanity was a pest to him, a cockroach nibbling on the crumbs of his successes. You of course, didn’t necessarily share that same vision.

You made him soft, even he knew that. You made him care less about them and more about you, but never quite enough to make him forget about his true love for ultimate power. You had made him soft yes, turned his sharp edges into curves yet you couldn’t change his dire need for bloodlust. That, you didn’t mind. You knew who Ryomen Sukuna was, knew he wasn’t some docile little puppy that would hang on to your every whim and argument. He was murderous but not so much when he was with you, and that was all you really wanted.

Come to think of it, you never truly tried to change him at all. You’d be disappointed sometimes sure, but never once did you say he was wrong, or that he shouldn’t do this and he shouldn’t do that. In anyone’s eye you were perfect; a pretty little queen who gave her King anything he asked for for one simple thing in return. His love.

Sukuna gave you that but… he didn’t at the same time. He was younger then though, a freshly reanimated curse still hellbent on revenge and destruction like he’d been 1,000 years ago. He didn’t love anything then, nothing but pure chaos. Then he was trapped, and 1,000 years later he had reawakened with that same fury only in a much different time, in a much different world. He didn’t have you 1,000 years ago but yet he had you all of a sudden, the girl who killed curses for a living yet didn’t kill him.

He didn’t know what made him so special, but he didn’t kill you either, stuck on your otherworldly beauty and hanging on to every sweet word that left your lips. He made you his a couple months after, not like you weren’t the moment he laid his eyes on you and decided to spare your life. Something beyond him must’ve known how important you’d be later on, something beyond him saving him from the potential heartbreak of having not been with you at all.

He spoiled you in all the gifts and glory you never could’ve imagined, dressed you in soft red silks and fine white diamonds, showered you with oh-so sweet compliments and possessive touches — he never liked anyone thinking you weren’t his, but he never gave you the one thing you really wanted in the way you deserved it. He never chose you first, put you first, loved you above everything. Yes, he loved you but he loved chaos more, and eventually his crazed mind had twisted into something so incongruous, so far gone he was blinded by his need for mayhem that he couldn’t see you anymore.

And that’s when you left, and it’s been such a painful blur ever since.

His girl, his rose… withered into ash in the flames of his own hands.

But now, now he was grown. He knew what he wanted now and the night only made it so much more obvious to him that he was ready to give you everything, all of him and all of his love.

Maybe it was the soft way your hands ran across his hot skin, delicate and dainty, so you couldn’t hurt him anymore than he was already hurt. Maybe it was the way you fluffed his pillow like a doting wife and smiled at him so sweetly like he’d never done anything to hurt you in the first place. Maybe it was the way you saved him time and time again with open arms and a gentle heart despite how he’d treated you. Maybe it wasn’t just one moment that made him realized how much he missed you, but in fact all of those moments combined that helped piece together that revelation.

You were beautiful and kind, a flower he had abused one too many times that grew thorns around it’s heart. Now you weren’t so easy to pluck, to win over. But now Sukuna was ready, he didn’t care if he got cut if it meant you’d be his flower again, his darling rose.

Sukuna clenched his jaw, skin red and patchy from the heat of the shower as he reached over and turned it off. The water subdued to echoing droplets, his need for you stronger than any craving for chaos he’s ever experienced.

He was ready to love you, to give himself to you in the way you always needed, be there for you just as you were for him. He couldn’t let this snowy night pass before you knew that, let this opportunity pass him by like they have so many times before. He stepped out of the shower, determined to make you his again and become the King (thing) you always deserved.

For the first time in his very long life Ryomen Sukuna was going to be selfish for the right reasons.

It was that cold Friday night when Sukuna came to you, slowly opening your door so he didn’t wake you up quite yet. He was still bare from the shower, a piece of gauze taped to his abdomen the only form of attire he had on. He had left wet footprints along your hallway, his skin mostly dry from the warm air of your home but his pink hair still damp, droplets of water rolling down his neck. His abdomen ached with every step but he couldn’t focus on the pain, only you.

He didn’t care that he was naked, you’d seen his body plenty of times before just as he’d seen yours, and what a beautiful sight it was. He had no shame and had nothing to be ashamed about, and to be honest his nudity wasn’t even a thought in his mind as he gently closed the door behind him.

It was late, the sky still black with white flurries sprinkling down, your window stained with fog and snowflakes as a silver, fragmented glow of the moon befell on your sleeping form. Your room was dark but bright enough for him to see, his feet silent and calculated like he knew which boards creaked and which ones didn’t; he’d been in here so many times without you knowing that the rhythm of steps he needed to take just came natural to him.

He noticed the black robe he had gifted you was thrown on the end of your bed, and he couldn’t help but wonder what you had been wearing underneath it as all he could see was a puff of soft hair above your crimson blanket. He loved that you still loved the color red even after him, sprinkles of Sukuna dusted over your apartment so subtly only he’d be able to notice it. Your red couch, your red blanket, your black clothes and the diamond jewelry you never threw away. All little reminders of him because you couldn’t find it in yourself to move on.

Good.

He moved to your bedside, sitting on the edge of the bed as it sunk under his weight. The silence was filled with your gentle breathing, his dark red eyes looking over the soft rise and fall of your shoulder from where you had scrunched the blanket under your chin. Your eyelashes were cute and wispy, laid over your cheeks as a strand of your hair slid down to your nose.

This scene was so familiar to him; he couldn’t recall how many times he’d snuck in here when you were sleeping just to see you again, in between the weeks he’d knowingly visit you with a bustled lip and bloody nose.

You were beautiful and peaceful, his black claw coming up and ever so softly moving the piece of unruly hair behind your ear. His knuckles dragged on your cheekbone, his jaw clenched as he suddenly felt unsure of himself and the moment he’d just created. He felt almost nervous, him, as powerful and influential as he was, was nervous because of a human, a sorcerer. It was so odd, but then again nothing about your relationship was normal. Still, he couldn’t leave now, he was in too deep at this point.

It was too late for him to question himself however when your eyes sleepily fluttered open, his hand slowly retracting back to his side as he let your awareness kick in.

He gazed into your eyes as they registered him, confused and groggy as you pulled the blanket down away from your mouth, looking up at him questioningly.

Your eyes ran over his face, observing the way his lips frowned and his eyes seemed almost pained, two red dots of light. Your eyes flickered between his in a blurry sleep hazed stare.

“Sukuna? Is something wrong?” You immediately thought the worst, your voice soft and raspy in that way he used to hear when you’d wake up beside him. He wanted those days back, his hand tensing at the sweet sound of you.

You moved the blanket off of you, goosebumps rising on your skin from the cool air. Your arm came up to rub at your eyes, still blurry, anything to help your vision adjust to the darkness (and the situation) around you.

Sukuna’s eyes were drawn to the lacy black tank top you wore, tracing over the curve of your breast from where it had slightly spilled out of the cup. His fist clenched some more, a heat stirring in his tummy that made his eyes darken as they looked back up at your face. It’s been too long since he’d seen them, seen any part of you besides your face and arms. He swore he wasn’t usually so easily affected.

Sukuna waited until you were looking at him again before he spoke, only you beat him to it once more as clarity started to fill your senses at what exactly was happening.

You put a cold hand on his forearm that made his muscle tense, “Is everything okay, why are you in here?” You furrowed your brows at him, voice still soft as it felt unnecessary to speak so loud when he was so close.

Sukuna stared back at you for a moment, hot and intense, a look that had you faltering as your eyes fell to his chin to keep from looking into his. You felt nervous now, way past your initial shock and worry as you were now exposed to him in the tank top you hadn’t intended for him to see.

He looked over your face, eyes noticing how you looked away from him in that shy way you always did. It made him eager to see them again, his need for you overpowering him so quickly he couldn’t think as his hands reached for you. They had missed you just as much.

His right hand gently grabbed your jaw as his left cushioned itself on your pillow and laid you down so he was on top of you, his legs still hanging off the edge of the bed but his larger frame now trapping you underneath him. His muscle was next to your head, his claws poking into your cheeks and you felt your heart stop and then pound frantically in the shell of your ears. You knew he could hear it too, his face hovering over yours as the smell of your body wash wafted into your nose.

Your eyes flickered between his, wide-eyed and in utter shock at the situation that had rapidly occurred. You couldn’t speak, stuttering over words for some kind of question that would formulate what you were thinking into existence. You felt hot and smothered, swallowing down nothing in your dry mouth.

Sukuna looked over your face as though he was inspecting you, eyes slanted and dark, an intensity hidden behind the red flakes of his irises so strong it only made the red seem brighter, burning. You couldn’t help the shakey breath you inhaled, wanting to look away but knowing you couldn’t.

“You love me, don’t you? You still love your King?” Sukuna growled gently, his voice deep and raspy with a very subtle hint of desperation for what your answer could be. His warm breath washed over your lips as he moved your head slightly so it was looking straight at him. You glanced down at his lips, stupidly of course as he noticed when you did it.

You didn’t fight him, a part of you not wanting to as this was a fantasy you’ve only been dreaming about every since you left him. But also because you were so surprised still, his question catching you off guard as you blinked at him stupidly.

What did he expect you to say to that? What did you expect you to say to that? Did you still love him, was he looking for a serious answer or was he just sleep walking? You knew it wasn’t the latter, his viridian eyes piercing into you like he could see the intricate makings of your own mind, hooded with slight purple bags under them. Your breathing was a little harsh, your skin tingling at his proximity as no one had touched you in a very long time and it was something your body (you) craved.

You wanted him to touch you more but wanted him to not touch you at all.

You didn’t know what to tell him and you weren’t sure how seriously you should take it. You didn’t want to say the wrong thing and make him angry, or better yet tell the truth and make him angry. You weren’t sure what would satisfy him, his eyes giving away nothing that could help you as they stared at you, growing irritated with your lack of response.

You don’t know how he expected you to focus when he was staring at you like that.

Do you still love your King? God… you swallowed at that as the phrase made your legs tighten, only slightly so he wouldn’t feel the movement under the blanket. It was completely inappropriate but so was this whole situation, and like you said, it really had been so long without him that your body yearned for him, practically jumping at how close he was to it. All that time away and yet your body had not trained itself to hate him.

You opted for the truth, knowing he could sense if you lied anyway (he always could no matter how hard you tried). You stared back at his eyes and gulped with a very subtle head nod, “I never really stopped…” You uttered, weak and spineless like a field mouse.

Sukuna released a tense breath, his head falling into your neck as he hummed against your skin, almost a purring nose that rattled his throat, his nose rubbing just behind your ear like a doting kitten. That answer seemed to satisfy him enough.

Your eyes closed at the feeling of him so close to you, letting out a stuttering breath. You wanted to reach up and wrap your arms around him, bring him closer to you until all of him laid on top of you. But you knew you shouldn’t interfere with whatever he was doing, you didn’t want to risk ruining whatever this was.

Your hands were tense at your sides as you didn’t know what to do with them, better yet you didn’t want to disturb him. You swallowed another bunch of nerves that fluttered in your belly, an ache forming under your skin as your breathing picked up from just his simple touches, his warm breath brushing over your neck. He was big and warm, laying his chest on top of you and sinking his head into your shoulder like he couldn’t get enough of you.

You wanted more of him too.

You couldn’t deny though that this felt very sudden and weird to you, how all of a sudden he was in your room and asking if you loved him. Did he get into one of your bottles of pain medication? Was he doped up? You couldn’t fathom any other explanation other than inebriety that would justify his uncharacteristic behavior.

Asking you if you loved him, You felt that was a more serious conversation that should be held over coffee in your living room, where both persons were sober and of sound mind, not nearly exposed and drunk on each other in the darkness of your bed with his body surrounding you. You swore his proximity was influencing your thoughts in some way, making them all muddled.

“Hmm, do you have any idea how much I’ve suffered since you left? How weak I felt, how powerless you made me?” He hissed into your neck like he loathed you for it, his hand tightening just a tad around your jaw. He smelt your skin, citrus and something sweet like dove soap that tickled his nose. He could hear your heart beating rapidly underneath your smooth skin, his eyes closed as he relished in your warmness, crazed with want for you but still managing to control himself. You’d be proud of him for not ripping your clothes off like he would’ve done in the past.

You felt his wet hair prickle your cheek as you leaned in just a little bit to him, unable to resist him despite you wanting to.

You frowned at his statement, eyes opening to look at the ceiling, unhappy with the fact that he was in pain but also glad it wasn’t just you.

“Well that’s your own fault, I’m not going to take all the blame. Besides, you weren’t the only one who was hurting, you know.” You scolded rather modestly; hurt didn’t even begin to cover the way he had made you feel even before you left him. He didn’t even know how alone you felt, how unimportant and small he had made you feel. He had no idea of the nights you cried and pleaded to some sort of god to help you make it all work. In the end your efforts were proved pointless when Sukuna never changed, and never even tried to.

You weren’t going to let him make you feel guilty for trying to find something better, you deserved better and you weren’t going to apologize for it. Sukuna may have made you dumber than normal but you weren’t that easy.

Sukuna grit his teeth at the truth lacing your statement, his hand releasing your jaw to slide down your throat, down to your chest, feeling the way your lungs moved and savoring the feel of your soft flesh under his hand. His nails scratched you delicately as he finally stopped and rested his palm right over your heart. It made your body shudder involuntarily, hands clenching at your sides at the warmth his palm resonated onto your beating heart. You swallowed again, eyes nervously flickering over to the back of his head like you could see his face.

“I didn’t want to hurt you, woman. I’m not like that anymore anyway, isn’t that obvious? Don’t you see how I’ve changed for you?” He grumbled against your hot skin, his arm that was on the pillow maneuvering over your head so his hand was by your hair — his fingers toyed with the strands until they were tangled in them. The hand above your heart dug in a little deeper like he wanted to pull it out and squeeze it himself, the rapid thumping vivid against his palm at the way he spoke into your body.

You eyes fluttered shut again, quickly becoming overwhelmed with all the sensations and revelations. Your scalp tingled from the way he gently played with your hair — something he always did with no knowledge of why to you, the sensation dancing down your neck and spine and making your stomach turn pleasurably.

It was starting to get incredibly warm around you, the air buzzing around your bodies and making it harder to breath. You were starting to feel smothered by him and the feelings he brought out of you, yet not completely suffocated by him like you so badly wanted to be.

He didn’t want to hurt you, but he did, he really did. You would say that he had changed somewhat yes, changed in the sense that he wasn’t so vulgar and chaotic as he once was, more silent and self-controlled as maturity usually does to people. But did complex minuscule human concepts such as maturity even affect him anyway? He wasn’t necessarily a human at the end of the day, he wasn’t technically a man with muscle and blood flowing through his own veins, just a passenger in the conduit of another man’s body.

Even if he could change and experience emotional evolution like humans do, how could you say he had when just tonight he was beaten by those same sorcerers he’d been so adamant on destroying a year and a half ago? That didn’t express change nor maturity. Some things do change but a persons motivation only gets stronger; their goals only become shorter. Some things may change but all things do not.

Sukuna took a moment to bring his legs up on the bed, the mattress shaking as he brought them up and laid them out on top of yours. One chiseled leg swung over your thighs and the other snuggled up next to yours, his abdomen throbbing at the movement but he didn’t so much as wince. His full weight was now pushing down on your smaller form, his hips digging into yours and you swore you could feel nothing on him but muscle.

You were glad the blanket separated you from him, you were sure your chest would explode if it was just you and him, skin on skin and heart to heart, breathing the same air and sharing the same space. You guessed you already were, but the blanket felt like some sort of protection from pure intimacy, and this was already plenty enough.

“I want you back with me, I need you with me, forever. Nothing will get between us again, Rosie. I’ll kill anything that tries.” He vowed into your ear with an almost angry growl at just the thought of it. The pet name you held so dear to you made your heart flutter, something he knew when he spoke it.

He lifted his head up again, just enough to look into your eyes but so much closer than he was before — your nose was almost bumping his as he looked at you with such a hungry fierceness you had to clench your fists to control your own self. It was intense, the red of his eyes almost brighter, a dark crimson that swirled like endless pools of blood. The color of love.

You felt this sick glimmer of hope run through you at his words, those damned words you’d wanted to hear for so so long. You looked between his eyes for any semblance of bullshit he might convey, your heart still fragile from heartbreak but just as eager to beat for him again. But then again if you’d listened to your heart you never wouldn’t left him in the first place, you’d still be with that immature curse who so easily threw you to the side when the word power was even mentioned. You had to ignore the ache in your chest for the betterment of your own sanity.

Had he changed from that? Was he really ready to put you first, above anything, above his one true love that you never could compete with? It hurt so much to leave him the first time, you still hadn’t recovered from it. You couldn’t imagine the pain that would come from leaving him a second time.

You were scared now, the silence of the room buzzing in your ears, the shadows reflecting the gentle snowfall from your window as you just stared at him, your reflection in his pupils. You wanted so badly to ignore the past and move on to the future, embrace a new chapter for the both of you, but lessons are learned from past mistakes and they shouldn’t be ignored when the same problem comes running back pleading for forgiveness. It would be foolish to do that.

You wanted him to love you, you wanted to be his everything, you wanted to be his priority but the promise of that seemed too easily spoken given the circumstance.

You shook your head at him, your eyes burning at the notion that this was all some sick lie for him to have you at his beck and call again. You couldn’t handle the heartbreak and humiliation if this was some twisted scheme.

“I want that, too…” You whispered to him, your voice cracking with a particular sadness you didn’t care to hide. You saw the way his eyes looked between yours, how they registered the glossiness of tears threatening to fall. Yes, he did hate it when you cried.

“…But how am I supposed to know you’re telling the truth? How am I supposed to trust you again after everything? I don’t want to say yes and then you’re back to being the same way you were before. I do love you, I love you so much…” You said shakily as you brought your hands up from under the blanket. You put them over his muscled arm that was still laid on your chest, one hand over his and the other grasping his wrist. You squeezed his arm for emphasis, his eyes flickering down to where you held onto him like you didn’t want him to leave (you didn’t).

“But I’m terrified to come back to you and be second to your crown like I always was. If I come back to you, then it needs to be me and you, nothing in between. I want you to love me as greatly as I love you, and as equally. I’m not going to be your second choice anymore, Sukuna, I can’t.” You felt tears slide down your cheeks from each eye and soak into your pillow, a broken whisper in your voice that sounded desperate and pleading, absolutely pitiful, your throat thick and earnest with emotion.

Sukuna felt his jaw clench as the tears rolled down your cheeks, a hatred for himself burning in his lungs at how he did this to you. He didn’t ever like hurting you, which was painfully ironic to him. He found himself not caring about anything other than you in this moment, feeling his own self get choked up at the pain he caused you.

He was hurting too but he could only imagine how much you’ve been hurting. It made him feel awful, so guilty, regret bubbling under his skin. He never wanted you to feel like this again, just the thought of power a small blip in his mind that got smaller the closer he got to you.

He brought his hand down from above your head, his eyes conveying such seriousness you’d never saw before in them, and brought it down to your cheek. It was a sweet gesture, a small one to make up for the tears he gave you. His thumb gently wiped away at the tear sliding down from the corner of your eye, claw tickling your cheekbone as he cupped the side of your face in his warm palm.

You stared up at him as he did, sniffling slightly, your eyes tired and so pathetically heart wrenching as you leaned into the comforting touch of his hand.

“Baby… You’re mine and you’re the only thing I want in this wretched world. If I don’t have you then I have nothing. I crave you… in ways power could never satisfy me. I crave you… in ways your mortal mind could never even imagine…” He rumbled deep and genuine, hungry and primal, his fangs poking out from behind his lips as he spoke. He meant it too, meant it more than you’d ever comprehend. He looked into your eyes as he leaned closer towards you, his nose bumping yours as a small smile graced your lips at his proclamation.

He craved you… not nearly as much as you did him.

Your thighs tightened under the blanket at the raspy, guttural voice of which he spoke, dangerously enticing and lustful in the worst of times. Still, you couldn’t hide your shame as you looked at his lips with that same desire swirling in your tummy at the way he looked at you. You couldn’t help it, he affected you so easily and he always did. Him and that voice, him and those eyes. You couldn’t handle it sometimes.

You wanted him now, wanted him badly, wanted him to bleed those words into you with desperate action. His response did nothing to tame your desire as your hands squeezed around his arm in anticipation, a gleeful feeling twinkling in your heart that made the smile glow on your face.

Sukuna stroked your cheek softly some more, admiringly, as he leaned his head closer to yours, the hand over your heart turning around to intertwine your fingers in his. He squeezed your hand. It was so wholesome and pure and it made your heart jump, your fingers tightening around his own in response as your free hand went up to his cheek.

You swallowed as you both stared at each other for a moment; you felt like you could melt. You grazed your thumb over his cheekbone, tracing the black marking under your hand lovingly.

Sukuna leaned closer to you, his breath warm on your lips. He leaned into your hand, cocking his head into it as he relished in the feeling of your skin on his warm cheek. His hair was still damp, your chest breathless as you waited for him to close the distance between his lips and yours like you wanted him to, knowing he was going to anyway with the way he looked between your lips and your eyes with equal longing.

“You’re my sweet Rosie.” He whispered deeply and sincerely into the night before finally pressing his lips to yours in a hot, heartfelt kiss that spared him the need to express himself over spoken word.

You closed your eyes and sunk under the mattress as he laid his full weight on you, collapsing into you as though you sucked the soul out of him, a moan sounding from your throat as another tear fell from your eye, only for a different reason entirely. Your hand that was on his cheek reached behind his head and crawled into his damp hair, grasping the pink locks and holding his lips against you so he couldn’t leave.

He growled lowly into your mouth at the sharp feeling, his skin lit ablaze as a pleasurable stir pulled at his lower stomach.

He wanted you, wanted you so bad, wanted to rip your clothes off and feel your tight pussy squeeze around his cock until it was gushing around him. He missed that feeling, craved it more than air. But even he could feel that tonight was different; he didn’t just want to fuck you. He wanted to show his love and appreciation to you in the best way he knew how. He wanted to feel every inch of your skin pulsing against his, feel your lips on him and your hand in his as the both of you chose to forget everything that happened before the moment he came inside you. He wanted to make love to you.

His hand that was intertwined with yours pulled them up to the top of your head so he could get closer to you, his other hand gliding down from your chest until it was at the rim of your black tank top — it was the black lacy one, another thing he’d bought for you and a detail he didn’t overlook.

He didn’t rip it off quite yet, sucking your tongue into his mouth as his sharp teeth ran against it, his hand squeezing yours from above your head. You couldn’t help the small moan that sounded at the painful, pleasurable tingle that had Sukuna pressing his hardening cock into you from over the blanket. He always loved your sounds, loved the way you cried his name and moaned out more, more, more.

Sukuna pulled himself away with his lips wet, already wanting to put them back on you. He panted against you hard and slow, fangs bared as his eyes roamed your face. The flush of your cheeks and your glimmering eyes, so gorgeous with your hair fanned out beneath you, all his once again. You looked back at him, your eyes hooded and your lips puffy and pink, glimmering with shared saliva.

“Take off your top or I’ll rip it off.” He breathed aggressively into your mouth, nose bumping into yours as his hand clutched the black fabric between his sharp nails.

You looked down at your top when he mentioned it, too distracted to really care about anything besides him and thought of what his lips felt like on yours. You were too far gone now, any remnants of sadness having melted away and just as quickly replaced with salacious want, wanting, needing him to just put his lips back on yours for another kiss that had been long overdue.

You looked back up at him with panting breaths, fingers clutching his hair as the space between you felt too long and cold without his mouth in the way of it. Your eyes met his again, the both of you greedy for more and each one of you as hopelessly devoted as the other. You had a feeling it would stay that way this time.

“Then rip it off…” You sighed wantonly, voice thick and raspy as you pushed his face back down to yours with no chance of a word between.

His hand squeezed your much smaller one, the tips of his nails prickling your skin as you swore you heard him snarl against your mouth. You groaned hotly as his tongue tangled with yours in that expert way only he knew you liked, your hips pushing up against his growing cock shamelessly.

The thick red duvet, which was once a form of protection for you just a few minutes ago, was now only an irritating nuisance keeping you and the object of your desires separated. You maneuvered your feet and sloppily kicked it down until it slid off your knees, the cold air hitting your bare legs as Sukuna’s leg pressed up into your inner thighs.

Sukuna gripped the rim of your top and quickly ripped it down the middle with barely any strength, the straps snapping off your shoulders as you inhaled sharply from the slight sting of it. You arched your back into him, lips still moving fervently against each others as he crumbled the frail material in his hands and tossed it somewhere; it slid off your skin smoothly.

Your bare chest and stomach were now exposed to him yet you felt no insecurity; you never did when it came to Sukuna, he always made you feel desired in his own way and that was enough to show you he loved you.

Sukuna kissed you one more time, bringing your bottom lip into his mouth and slowly sucking on it, his fangs piercing into your skin as he licked the sting away. You whined as he ensured to look at you while he did it, obsessed with the way your eyes fluttered and your hand tightened in his hair. He seperated from you finally after a moment, your lip popping back into place.

The erotica of it all made your core clench around nothing, a wetness filling your lower lips that made it almost wrongful that nothing was down there to fill it yet. Sukuna felt the effects of you as well, his cock pressing into your black shorts hard and eager. You were well aware of it but Sukuna was doing so good at distracting you from it, she was well aware of it.

Sukuna immediately brought his hands down to your breasts once they were freed, looking down at the way the soft globes of flesh molded into his hands and jiggled when he moved them. They were soft and smooth and spilled between his fingers so beautifully. He had missed them so fucking much, almost having forgotten what they felt like in his hands. He clenched his jaw and groaned, groaned, as he scooted down towards them, licking his lips as he squeezed them in his big hands.

“Nngh — that feels good, baby…” You sighed at the pleasurable sensation shooting through you as he played with your titties, your nipples sensitive as always, as he knew. His claws dug into your skin as he squeezed them harder, your hips jerking up instinctively as a shock ran through you. Your stomach was twisted, your pussy so needy and sobbing between your thighs as he nibbled on your collarbone.

“Yeah, feels good, pretty girl?” He rumbled into your skin, licking and mouthing at your chest as he rubbed your breasts in slow circles, applying pressure as he did. Your chest was covered in wet marks and pink circles, your hands somehow having found their way on top of Sukuna’s, holding his hands there as he rubbed them.

“I love these tits, they’re mine aren’t they? They always were.” He hissed, voice grumbling like fallen mountain rocks as he slid down your body a little more, his cock rubbing on the skin of your thigh and it was only now you realized he was naked. Had he come in your room that way? Who cares, you were just waiting for the moment you were too.

“Mmhmm, unghh — they always were.” You mumbled in a pleasure induced haze as you arched your back into him, your head thrown back into your silky red pillows and eyes closed as your thighs tightened around his leg. His hands slid down to your waist as yours found their way to his broad shoulders.

“That’s fucking right they were…” He kissed the valley of your breasts, licking your skin and grazing his fangs in a way that made your body flutter; you felt so good already, so good and weightless from his big hands and sharp lips alone. He was always so good at touching you, knowing every nerve and knowing how to pinpoint each one that made you a messy, needy puddle underneath him; he specialized in the art of your pleasure, an expert in the waves of your body in a way you weren’t even in tune with it.

Finally, finally, he slid his head over and licked a stripe up to your nipple, sucking it into his mouth like it wasn’t hard enough. You moaned rather loudly, your hands flying up to his hair and rubbing anything you touched in a mindless act of delicious satisfaction. He groaned into your skin at the way you clawed at his hair like a desperate slut, licking and sucking on your nipple as his hand went and rubbed the other one, fingertips and claws circling your other nipple that made sweet tingles pebble onto your hot skin.

His eyes flickered up to you, looking up at your parted lips and your eyes squeezed shut, feeling his cock throb with need to feel you around him already. He was hard, so painfully hard, stuffed between your thigh and his. He liked seeing you like this though, liked seeing the effect he had on you and hearing how you whined for him. He wanted to be buried inside you already, so deep you believed the tip of his cock was pressing into your guts. But he liked this better, a cruel part of him still wanting to tease your sweet pussy just a little longer until you were so needy for him he could see it staining your shorts.

He wasn’t going to wait too long though, it had been too long since he was balls deep in that tight pussy; even a man (thing) as strong as Sukuna had his limits, already bursting at the seams.

His hand eagerly slid down your stomach, pushing past your shorts as your legs widened for him. You bit your lip, hips chasing his hand as he crawled his way down… down… down…

You moaned shamelessly and sweetly as his long, lithe middle finger split down the middle of your lower lips, your wetness leaking down his finger and dripping down to his palm as the smell of your arousal hit his sharp nose. He clenched his jaw, lips twisting into a primal growl at the sweet smell of it. God, it was better than anything on this earth, and he couldn’t believe he was almost going to live a lifetime without it.

“Oh my god! Oh my god…” You panted, voice high pitched and pathetically whiney as you desperately grasped at his chiseled shoulders with rapacious hands.

He picked his head up, fingers sliding out of your shorts and leaving a stick white trail up to your waist. His eyes glowed a deep red in the darkness, now looking up at your face, your breasts covered in purple stains and teeth marks.

“Not god, Rosie. Me, only me. I missed this pussy baby… so wet for me like I knew you’d be… my pretty girl… you’re mine forever, I’ll kill anything that tries to take you from me.” He exclaimed possessively, his voice thick with love and a burning hunger that scratched at his throat. He was full of danger and promise, your hands scratching at his shoulders as his exclamation only seemed to make you wetter for him.

“I only wanna be yours anyway…” You mumbled back wistfully, any thought crossing your mind carelessly said out loud as you gazed down at his eyes. You had mentioned he made your thoughts all muddle together. Your skin buzzed with electricity like the workings of a light bulb, your heart pumping in your ears and your skin pasty with sweat already.

You couldn’t stop moving your fingers across Sukuna’s skin — he shivered at the feeling, any muscle you could touch that could’ve been carved from a dotiing gods chisel as far as you knew. You were too alive to keep still, bursting with love and unabashed lechery that had your pussy aching for him.

You both shared a tender look, your hand coming around and grazing his cheek delicately as you gazed drunkenly into his eyes. He cocked his head into your palm, reaching up and laying a sweet kiss on your chin, his pink hair tickling your lips. You smiled at that, putting a finger under his chin and jolting his mouth up so you could give him a peck.

He licked his lips after you did, his eyes staring at your mouth before giving you another sweet kiss that lasted a few short seconds before he was looking into your eyes again.

“I love you, pretty.” He said so quietly anybody else would’ve never heard him.

You could hear the earnestness in his baritone voice, your hands coming up to cup both his cheeks. You were so proud of him for being so uncharacteristically open, vulnerable. You knew how hard it was for him to be that way, which only made it all the more special to you that he was. It was a small detail that convinced you he loved you. You felt your heart swell with a gorge of emotion for him. He felt the same. You admired the black markings on his face, his lower set of eyes closed as you ran your thumbs over his cheekbones.

“I love you too, stupid.” You responded wholeheartedly, a faint whisper shared between you for his ears only. You gave him one last kiss before he slid back down and starting mouthing at your jaw.

You sunk further into the pillows as you sighed pleasurably at the way he kissed your body, hands ruffled in his hair once more as he trailed further and further down until he was licking down your stomach. You didn’t wait for him as you brought your hands down and hooked your thumbs into the edges of your shorts, wiggling out of them so he didn’t have to do it for you. You kicked them off your feet, the soft plop of them hitting the floor falling on deaf ears as you were finally, truly exposed to him now.

Sukuna glanced up at you before sliding all the way down, his abdomen dully throbbing at the way he was bent over the edge of the bed. He groaned hungrily at the sight of your pussy, glistening with white, sticky strings of arousal that even shined on your inner thighs.

His dick throbbed at the sight of it, his mind already filled with ideas of how good you were going to feel wrapped around him.

He brought his hand down from your hip, shamelessly running it over your wet lips as his claw grazed the hood of your clit. Your thighs jolted at that as you panted above him, releasing soft, airy moans as you waited for him to do something, anything to you.

“So perfect…” He growled, his index finger joining his middle as he scissored your lips open, a wet sticky sound separating them as he gazed upon your clenching, glistening hole and puffy, pretty clit. It was even more beautiful than he remembered, his two fingers sliding down your insides and messily spreading your wetness around.

It was a sickly wet sound that sounded in the room, your cheeks a bashful pink as your hands grasped the sheets.

Sukuna’s mouth watered, rubbing your wetness around some more as his claw circled your tight hole. He watched as a glob of wetness dripped out to the crack of your ass, staining the sheet below. Your legs jerked as you whined, “Sukuna…”

He took his hand off of you, your stomach painfully twisted like a rubber band bound to break at any fragile moment as you slumped in disappointment at the loss of his hands on you. He brought his two fingers into his mouth and tasted you again after a year and a half of being starved. He groaned quietly at the taste, sweet and bitter as he licked your arousal off his fingers. Usually he’d finger you, but his nails were too sharp and too long for that now. He’d have to remember to cut them off later on.

“Taste so good, Rosie.” He uttered gutturally, a crazed man almost as his hands rubbed at your inner thighs and spread you open just bit more for him.

You gulped down a dry throat, your hands pulling at his pink hair again as he licked and nibbled at your thighs, his thumb massaging the other one his mouth wasn’t able to be on. Your pussy was practically screaming at this point, begging for his mouth, his lips, his tongue, his cock, anything to just relieve the pain throbbing through your whole lower area. You’d never felt this needy before, broken down to a wailing, horny mess that needed to be filled more than anything.

“Please, please, I want it already…” You babbled nonsensically, hands grabbing at the strands of his hair and pulling his head closer to your pussy so he’d get the hint. It was shameless and desperate but you didn’t care, you needed him.

He smiled wickedly at that, the sting on his scalp making his spine tingle. He was pleased with the way you begged for it without him even having to ask, not that he’d make you do it this time, he wanted this just as much as you did.

He glanced up at your twisted face, ruined with pleasure he was giving you, before he looked back down at your slick womanhood. The moon barely shined down on its full glory, he thought, gladly anticipating the moment he’d see it in the day. He slid his hands up your thighs and hooked his thumbs onto your lips, spreading them wide open so he could see your insides clearly.

You bit your lip, thighs helplessly tightening around his arms as he stared it, entranced, for a few short moments. He salivated at the sight like a starved man looking at a four course meal. You were tastier than that.

He moved forward and licked a confidant stripe up the expanse of your spread pussy, tasting your arousal on his tongue as it dripped down the corners of his lips. He moaned into you at the taste, licking up and down with a broad tongue for a few moments before he had to pull away and taste you again.

You squealed, keening and shaking, arching your back and digging your heels into the bed at the way your core pulsed waves of indescribable pleasure through your legs. You felt breathless and dizzy, clenching around air as his spit dribbled down your opening.

Sukuna leaned his head back, licking his lips as he swallowed the mix of saliva and wetness pooled on his tongue. His eyes closed in ecstasy, already thirsty for more as he growled, shoving his head back into your pussy and sucking on your clit, the slick sounds of you loud in your ears; you were almost embarrassed at how wet he had made you.

Your thighs closed around his head when the sensations became too much, squeezing around his ears as your mouth opened in querulous gasps and cries. His hands had wrapped themselves around your legs at some point or another, his veins throbbing and muscles flexing as he relatively tried to keep your bucking hips pinned down.

You wished you could see how could he looked from between your legs, but you couldn’t focus on one single thing, your mind a scrambled mess. Your thighs shook uncontrollably, an orgasm already chipping away at your tummy from how sensitive you were.

“Oh! Ahh, baby!” You yelled in a high pitch, both of your hands gripping the sheets so hard your knuckles were white. You heard the snap of the sheet flying off the corner of the bed, curling in itself as another corner popped off. Your stomach tensed as he licked down again, his tongue thrusting into your hole until your wetness was glistening over his cheeks. He groaned into you, the vibrations shaking your soul as his nose rubbed against your wet clit.

It had been so so long since you’ve had this, you missed it and you missed him.

It was vulgar and nasty, just the way he liked it as his spit mixed with your glossy wetness, sliding down until the sheets were soaked in a dark patch of saliva and arousal. You tasted so good he couldn’t even describe it, his eyes closed still as he relished in the taste of you smeared over his tongue, sliding down his chin and dripping onto the bed as he made an absolute mess out of you.

You couldn’t breath, throat dry as cracked moans left parted lips. You were panting as your stomach tightened and tightened and tightened… and with a few more eager licks you felt it snap, a long moan drowning out his lustful groan as a flood of wetness gushed into his mouth and splashed on his cheeks.

Your thighs shook horribly, your skin beating off and on like a flashing light as your heart pounded in your head, sweat beading at your hairline. You came much quicker than you usually would have, but it’d been so long without Sukuna that your arousal had no where to go during this past year, building up inside you, waiting for the day he would come back and shatter the wall holding it all together.

You breathed heavily, the room hot and stuffy as your body slumped down into the mattress like the life had been drained from your veins. Your hands released their tight grip on the sheet as your body patiently calmed itself down.

Your orgasm dripped down Sukuna’s chin as he took his mouth off you, looking up at your tired face with heavy eyes and slow breaths. His eyes ran over your face and body, covered in his teeth marks and hickies he’d littered over your skin. Yes, you were his and he had proven it, a small, adoring smirk quirking on his mouth.

He licked the remnants of your orgasm off his lips, unhooking his arms from around your thighs and wiping his mouth off with the back of his hand. He kissed your thighs one last time before crawling up your body, your skin glowing with happiness and sweat. He took his time to kiss your skin as he went, savoring the feeling of it under his lips. Your legs jolted unevenly in the aftershock, your mind so hazy and jumbled you felt disconnected from reality altogether, barely conscious to the way he dotted loving kisses up your body.

Sukuna kissed his way up your stomach, up your chest, careful not to do too much that could frazzle you anymore as he let you find yourself again. He nuzzled his face into your neck once he worked himself all the way up your body, his hands tenderly gliding up your sides until they were grabbing at your midsection.

The same hands he’d used to kill thousands of men now holding you between them yet you knew you were in no real danger. He massaged the skin under his palms, feeling your heart beat rapidly under his head as he couldn’t care less about the sweat clinging to your skin.

“You’re all right, pretty…” He uttered into your neck, kissing your damp skin dotingly as you took deep breaths to steady yourself.

You brought a hand up and clumsily tangled it in his hair, grounding yourself to him as you lightly rubbed his head in an effort to comfort yourself — his pink locks now dry but his scalp damp with sweat. You inhaled deeply, exhaling just as focused as your heart began to slow once more and your legs stopped twitching.

You both waited a few moments in amorous silence, his hands softly stroking your sides as he rested his head on your shoulder, patiently waiting for you to come back to him again.

You hummed when you felt calm enough, his fingers sparking tingles up and down your body that had your pussy clenching once more. You turned your head towards him and kissed his hair to grab his attention, needy once more and not too proud to beg.

Sukuna perked his head up at the action, his hand trailing up your body and coming up to your face, looking as a strand of hair fell out of place and dusted over your eyelash. He didn’t hesitate to move it out the way with his nail, tucking it behind your ear in a corny romantic way that made your heart flutter. His gaze was heavy and warm-hearted as he looked back into your eyes, your other hand coming up and loosely grabbing his wrist as his hand settled on the crook of your jaw.

You leaned closer to him and he didn’t shy away, eyes looking all over your face before settling on the ravenous look in your dazzling eyes; it was subtle, swirling behind your love for him but like he said he knew you better than you knew yourself. It made his lip quirk at how quickly you seemed to recover from your orgasm already.

“I want you...” You mumbled piteously with an adorable pout on your lips as you pressed them almost against his. Your hand clutched a little tighter in his hair, leg nudging into his as you turned towards him with a new fervor striking through your loins. It had been too long without him and your body knew it, your pussy knowing how close he was to finally giving her the one thing she’d wanted for so long.

His eyes glistened with gluttonous understanding and recognition at your tone, his eyes hooded and slanted and dark. It was a piercing gaze, all consuming and vigorous at the realization that you wanted just what he wanted, just a much.

He hummed sensually at that, “oh yeah? What else you want?” He grumbled lustfully, his eyes flickering between the way you looked at him and your lips, still swollen from all the times he nibbled them just minutes ago. You didn’t fight when he pushed you down to hover over you again, a hand cupping your cheek as his sharp thumb nail ran over the plushness of your lips.

You sighed sweetly, looking at his mouth, “I want you to fuck me already.”

He clenched his jaw at your words, his cock so so so painfully hard as it stood up against his abdomen, leaking out a bead of pre cum that dribbled down the length of him.

You noticed the way his eyes almost rolled to the back of his head at your dirty words, biting your lip as you slowly stroked your hand down his broad chest, down to his abs where you were careful to avoid the bandage there, then trickling down to where the head of his cock was. You didn’t touch it yet, just felt his body shudder at the way you ran your nail against his skin like an innocent vixen.

He looked at you, shattered, like he could crack at any second as his hands clenched into the pillow under each side of your head. He wanted to see what you’d do; he’d always liked when you got cocky like this, your confidence a huge turn on for the otherwise dominant man. You batted your eyelashes at him cutely, finger softly swirling random shapes into his skin just above his leaking tip.

“I want you to make me yours again…” You sighed, daring to look into his eyes as you moved your hand down and ran the tip of your finger up the underside of his hard cock, tracing the familiar vein there.

Sukuna groaned then, a mix of a hot moan and a powerless rumble, almost collapsing on top of you as the strength in his arms faltered. Sparks ran through his cock, sharp and pleasurable and needing more.

You smiled at him as his eyes flashed to you, the fury burning in them the last thing you saw before he was kissing you desperately, messy and hot, his breath hitting your tongue and his teeth clashing against yours as his big arms fell around you, his larger body swallowing you whole.

You mewled into him, arms swinging around his neck as you wrapped your legs around his thighs, hips pushing up into him, so eager and wet already.

“You want my cock, huh? How badly do you want it?” He hissed into your mouth, his hand going down and resting on your tummy, feeling the warmth of your skin on his palm.

You whined, “so bad… I want it so bad.” You were way past trying to seem cute, now a mess, a mess he made you that ached for him so bad it physically hurt. You didn’t have the patience anymore, you wanted him deep inside you, so deep it hurt your insides but you’d still beg for more like the good girl you were for him.

He moaned heavily at that, moaned, the sound making a wave of arousal gush out of you as your legs tightened around him. He brought the hand down that was on your tummy and wrapped it around his throbbing cock, sighing at the slight relief it brought him as he sloppily grabbed it and positioned it between your legs.

He felt eager and greedy as he messily ran his thick tip through your soaking wet folds a few times, gathering your wetness on him as he used his hand to spread it all along his length. You and him both stared down at him, your pussy clenching as you dug your nails into his forearms, impatiently watching for him to push it in already.

A year and half without him, a year and half without his perfect, pretty cock, a year and half of waiting for this exact moment and now it was finally here. It was almost surreal, your eyes blinking as you bit your lip, trying to muff the moan that wanted to sound at just the sight of his dick you’d missed so fucking much. It was just as big and long as you remembered, smothered with white strings of your shared arousal.

Sukuna looked back up at you, gripping his cock in his hand with his eyes dark and primal. You whimpered, nails digging into his skin.

“Kiss me.” He ordered huskily. You did, pushing his head down to you and slipping your tongue in his mouth.

During the kiss, Sukuna positioned his cock head at your entrance, pushing past your slick until he was prodding at your hole. You whined, legs tightening around him to push him inside you further. He groaned into your mouth, hot and needy, as he pushed it inside you and stretched out your hole to fit his size. You both moaned together at the indescribable feeling of him slowly pushing his full length into you, of him filling you up and of you squeezing him into your tight heat.

“Fuck… you’re so tight, baby. This pussy’s hungry for me, isn’t she? She missed her King just as much as you, didn’t she?” He snarled against your lips, absolutely feral as your tightness squeezed him, so warm and hot and taking him in so smoothly. He had missed this feeling so fucking much, spent so many nights with his dick in his fist at the memory of your sweet pussy.

You gasped against his mouth, your arms swinging around his back and digging into the muscle there. You felt so full, your toes curling already as you threw your head back on your pillow. Pleasure, pure pleasure in a form you only ever experienced with him pulsed through your body as deep as your bone marrow.

Sukuna slid halfway out, the friction you caused making him hiss between his teeth as he thrusted back in. He wasn’t quick, savoring in the feeling of you around him as your wetness gushed out from around him and wet his thighs.

“Ahh, oh my god, I’ve wanted this for so long!” You gasped breathlessly, voice broken as you moaned against his lips, blood bubbling around your fingernails from how hard they dug into him.

He stared down at you with his lips twisted in pleasure, watching your face closely as he slid in and out, the light smacking sound your wetness made every time he thrusted back in only motivating him to fuck you a bit faster.

Your titties bounced softly from the movement, muscles tensing as your lips parted open and tears prickled at your eyes. Sukuna couldn’t talk, couldn’t even think straight besides the fact you felt so fucking good, his legs tight with every push back in he struggled to make because of your tightness. He hadn’t fucked you in so long your pussy wasn’t quite used to him yet. Don’t fret, he was going to enjoy stretching it back out to accustom him again.

He was soft and sweet against you as you both just let yourselves embrace this long overdue moment, careful not to squeeze too hard as his hands found their place on your waist again. He wasn’t squeezing so hard it’d hurt, just hard enough you could feel his longing for you thrumming under his fingertips; oceans of his love connecting you and him through subtle currents of yearning touches and soft kisses.

This was so unfamiliar to you — unfamiliar but very much welcomed. You felt smothered and sweaty, fingers digging into his back muscles and lips locked with his as he pressed himself against you. But it still wasn’t enough; you pressed him harder against you, begging for more, more, more.

Sukuna was supposed to be evil and terrible; he broke your heart once and he just might do it again but who were you to judge him when you enabled him? Who were you to hate him when you brought this on yourself? All you could do was trust him as he was all you had, all you wanted. He just might break your heart again but you’d let him if it meant he’d come back like this every time to put you two back together. Without him you were nothing, you weren’t whole, and without you he wasn’t anything either.

You moaned against his lips at a particularly deep thrust inside you, his hands on yours thighs now as his claws dug into your skin so painfully good you knew you would wake up with the bruised marks of his love carved into you.

“Ahh, Rosie. My Rosie…” He breathed into your neck deep and husky, sinking his fangs into your shoulder with his own stomach in hopeless knots at the way you so snugly wrapped him. He couldn’t believe he ever let this pussy leave him, how he functioned so long without it, but he supposed he didn’t really function, he was just good at pretending.

He felt you gush around his cock again with a sweet moan on his ear, his hands moving up your body and gliding up your back. He wrapped his arms around yours, holding your face to his so he could hear every little gasp and whimper that left your pretty lips for him.

You moaned into his neck, relishing in the closeness he gave you. He felt so good and deep, buried in your guts as your tits rocked against his chest with every movement.

His wounds were sore, so sore and painful, but god he couldn’t stop and he wouldn’t, he needed more of you, all of you. He wasn’t going to stop until you were creaming around his cock like you used to.

He was a greedy man, never denied that fact nor questioned it. He was greedy and selfish, wanted you or nothing at all, wanted everything you’d give him and he’d happily take it like the greedy creature he was.

If loving Sukuna made you selfish so be it, if loving him made you foolish so be it. You’d be foolish and selfish if it meant he’d never let you go again. You’d take that risk, you’d risk your sanity if it meant he’d stay inside you forever, bonded with you and stuck to you; I’m yours as long as you are mine.

And as he came inside you with a hefty groan into your neck as he squeezed you into him, it only confirmed that fact as you came around him just a short moment after; I’m yours as long as you are mine… maybe I’ll always be yours anyway.

538 notes · View notes

klaustozier · 1 year

Text

toys and games ; chishiya

this story happens before the second season, while they are still at the beach

this is smut, please be aware of what you read

warnings: degradation kink, choking, slapping, arisu catches you, big cock!chishiya because i wanted and i could, petnames

dont forget to like it and even leave a little comment <3

english is not my first language so i'm sorry if i made any mistakes

world count: 2k

"Stupid jerk", you cursed, making Chishiya smirk.

"Shut up, you know you like it", he whispered before kissing you.

It was always like this, he would make plans to a game and get one more card, but before, he would look for you around the mansion on the beach, wave to you with that motherfucker smile of his and take you to one of the rooms.

You loved to hate him, loved to cuss him out, and he loved that you did all that.

The blonde had placed you on the table in the random office he had chosen and was kissing you with such hatred, his hands squeezing your breasts through the bikini you were wearing.

"Fuck, you're so hot", he whispered, kissing your neck, his fingers moving the bikini to the side, pinching your nipple making you throw your head back, giving him more space to have fun with your skin, biting and sucking.

"You're going to make me purple", you purred, feeling his kisses move up to your jaw until he gave you a peck.

"And why do I care?", he asked, smiling, making you roll your eyes.

"Motherfucker."

"Slut."

And he kissed you again, there was so much hate in that kiss and so much lust, and a lot of things weren't exactly said and wouldn't be if it was up to the two of you.

The blonde buried his face between your breasts, kissing them and pressing them against his face. His tongue licked the delicate skin until he reached one of your nipple, licking and sucking gently.b His expert tongue circled the delicate spot before plunging it back into his mouth.

Shuntaro was an extremely calm, a unbothered guy, but at one of the parties the two started talking, literally talking about anime and when you both noticed, you were on all fours in the blonde's bed, being fucked as if the world was going to end the next morning (which maybe it was).

He purred as he squeezed and sucked your breasts, drooling on the skin thoroughly, sliding his fingers over your nipples.

"Chishiya", you moaned softly.

The man smirked, his hand went up your neck, squeezing the sides, making you pant heavily, looking into his eyes, "Keep moaning my name like that and I will fall in love, baby girl."

"Go fuck yourself", you cursed, receiving a harsh slap on the face.

"Shhh", he shushed, his hand gripping your face, letting spit run down his tongue to yours, making you moan softly while you swallowed all his spit.

You wore a white skirt leaving one of your legs out, which made an easy access point to him and that was how he liked it.

Chishiya used hus free hand to push the skirt away from its place and looked at her colorful bikini and sighed, pulling to the side enough to be able to look at you for a moment.

He sighed, "You're all fucking wet already", he growled, kneeling on the floor.

The blonde spread your legs, kissing your thighs before biting lightly, making you moan softly, he knew you were sensitive in that area so he liked to tease. His tongue glided over the soft skin until he reached your wet pussy.

The man pushed your bikini bottom out of the way and dipped his tongue through the wet lips, licking up and down. He took his time, he didn't need to run, it was his time to calm down, even more so that he liked to hear you in despair.

The smooth tongue moved up to your clit and focused on it, giving it all the attention in the world. His blond hair was grabbed and you groaned forcing his head against your pussy, moaning for more.

And that's when your thighs were embraced and Chishiya finally did what you wanted, he was getting impatient too, that taste was so good on his tongue and that clit was so delicate and needy pulsing on his tongue begged him to go faster, to make a mess.

You let herself moan a little louder, that motherfucker knew what he was doing, he knew the rhythm you liked. Your fingers caressed his blonde hair, your face contorted as his delicate lips kissed and suckled the turgid muscle.

"I want to fucking break you in half", Chishiya whispered putting two fingers inside you, going fast, no need for ceremonies anymore, since his cock was tight in his shorts taking any rationality out of him.

His free hand squeezed your breast, pinching the nipple as his mouth and fingers tended to your pussy.

And moaning slyly, calling for Shuntaro, you heard the door open and your eyes met Arisu's frightened eyes, wide and guilty.

"I'm sorry!", he exclaimed, closing the door with all the speed in the world, making a resounding noise.

Chishiya, with the greatest peace in the universe, turned towards the door before looking back at you, smirking, his pretty lips glistening with your pleasure, "Poor Arisu", he said, looking at you as his fingers continued to thrust inside you, his thumb pressing down on your clit in the middle of the back-and-forth, "If he'd given me a moment to explain myself, I'd have invited him to participate."

You whimpered, "Participate?"

Shuntaro smirked and slid his teeth along your thigh, "I know you would like it. Have you ever thought about how beautiful you would look lying on the table with me fucking your little asshole while Arisu fucks your mouth?"

"Chishiya", you purred, rolling your hips against the man's skillful fingers, "Fucking shit… don't talk like that…"

"Don't you like to think about how he'd like to use that cute body?"

"He's so adorable, he wouldn't dare to do anything."

The blonde stood up, his fingers still inside you, just caressing the insides of your pussy, smirking as you moaned softly, "You don't know… just because he looks nice doesn't mean he is."

"You look like a fucking asshole and you are a complete asshole, your theory doesn't work", you teased, making him laugh.

His free hand finally let go of your breast so he could smack you in the face again, "Shut up, slut."

"Does the truth bother you, Chishiya?"

You said his name so slyly that it made him even more horny, "It bothers me that you won't shut up."

Shuntaro took his fingers out of you only to sink them into your mouth. You moaned, licking them, your tongue curling around the soft fingers sucking them while he was busy opening his white shorts and taking his cock out of the garment.

You moaned, still enjoying his index and middle fingers, feeling his thick cock slide through your wet pussy, just teasing, making your legs tremble with anticipation.

"Please", you whispered, your voice muffled by his fingers.

"What, little princess?", he said, smirking, taking his fingers out of your mouth, "What do you want?"

"Please", you repeated, your neck being squeezed by his strong hand, "Fuck me, please."

He just continued to rub his cock in your pussy, being gentle, sliding in with ease since you were so wet, "Wanna get fucked, baby girl?"

"Yeah, stop being a smartass and just get it over with, fucking asshole."

He smirked, "Being as polite as that, of course I do."

Chishiya positioned his cock at your entrance and began to sink slowly, taking it easy, but you weren't in the mood for his patience, so you wrapped your legs around his waist and pulled him close, your head falling against his shoulder, groaning, finally having him completely inside you.

"No matter how much I fuck you, your pussy is still tight", he whispered, pushing his hips away, almost pulling out of you completely only to thrust with all his might, eliciting a whimper from you, "Could it be that if Arisu and I fucked at the same time would it make you a little looser?"

"Chishiya", you purred, hugging his neck, watching him, having your neck released, his hand sliding to the nape of your neck, curling his fingers in your hair.

"Little slut", he whispered, pulling you into a kiss.

The man dominated your mouth, kissing you as he wanted, having fun with your tongue and lips, thrusting without any mercy, swallowing your moans so eager and pleading.

You felt like a toy, like Shuntaro Chishiya's little toy, which he used so he could relax and play the games with a cool head. And you loved that role, you loved being used by him, you loved hearing him moan, you loved having that thick cock ripping into you day after day. Sometimes, when he was bored, he would chase you around the mansion, whispering things in your ear like he was whispering now.

"Later, I'm going to have you sitting on my legs, with that fucking ass in my face just so I can fuck your ass with my fingers while I slap you", he whispered biting your earlobe, "I love watching you walking with a limp because I fucked you so many times that your body can't take it anymore... it's so cute..."

"I want to cum", you whispered, your mind blank without any logical reasoning other than him.

"And if I say no?", he laughed, kissing your neck, "What would you do? Would you cry?"

"I'm going after Arisu to finish the job", you provoked, smiling ironically when the other looked at you with anger in his eyes, giving you another slap on the face.

"And I'm the asshole, huh?", he asked, smiling.

"And a motherfucker…"

The fucking asshole smirked, biting his lower lip, "Stupid slut."

His right hand went to your pussy and began stroking your clit rapidly while his hips kept thrusting. Your nails ripped into his shoulders, your mouth being attacked again to shush your moans, you usually didn't make such a fuss, but, with Chishiya, things got out of control.

Your body spasmed, your toes curling with your legs still gripping his waist, pulling him close, wanting him deep inside you as you came on his cock.

"On your knees on the floor", he ordered, pulling out. You obeyed quickly, kneeling in front of his legs, your tongue sticking out, your hands on your thighs just waiting, "Slut", he smiled sliding his thumb over your tongue, pulling your chin down, opening your mouth even wider, to sink his cock inside without any mercy causing you to gag, your eyes quickly watering, "Fuck", he growled, thrusting his hips into your mouth.

You moaned and purred, feeling the soft cock rubbing against your tongue, heavy and throbbing, your jaw burning, eyes rolling, hearing him moan as he enjoyed himself with you, one of your hands on his balls, gently massaging.

His hands were buried in your hair, squeezing the strands as he fucked your mouth. It didn't take long for his moans to grow quieter and darker, his cum falling onto your tongue, and you were busy sucking on it, cleaning up every last measly drop.

"Open your mouth for me", he ordered looking at you, smiling when he saw your tongue covered in cum, just waiting for the command, "Swallow", he smiled and stroked your hair, "Good girl."

You smiled as he cupped your face, his thumbs sliding over your cheeks as he kissed you one more time that afternoon, ending the kiss with a peck.

The two left the office pretending that nothing had happened, completely calm, especially Chishiya, with his hands inside the pockets of his white long-sleeved blouse.

In the pool, he approached Arisu, you a few steps away from both of them, close enough for you to see and hear them.

"Hey, Arisu", said Shuntaro, making the brunette look at him with wide-eyes, his cheeks blushing at the same instant, "next time, wait for a bit, you can join us, ok?", and he winked, moving away from Arisu, leaving the poor boy shocked and embarrassed.

Your eyes met Chishiya's, looking irritated, as he smirked at you like a complete asshole and, before disappearing amongst the people in the pool, he waved at you and winked.

"Asshole," you whispered.

...

if this gets a little attention, i'll make an arisu x chishiya x fem!reader oneshot ;)

♣️ part 2

♡masterlist♡

#chishiya alice in borderland #alice in borderland #arisu alice in borderland #alice in boderland x reader #chishiya x fem!reader #aib chishiya #chishiya #chishiya x reader #aib arisu #aib fanfic #aib smut #chishiya imagine #chishiya shuntaro #shutaro chishiya #imagine chishiya

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dilutedconfusion · 14 days

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A Moth to a Flame

Eustass Kid x F!Reader (Part 5)

Summary: It’s the morning after. Not the kind of morning where you wake up in somebody else’s bed but the kind where you’re wounded and in a cot. Kid is feeling bad. You’re feeling bad. Let’s see how the two of you handle the wretched ‘what happened last night’ conversation.

Warnings: Mentions of blood & broken bones

Word Count: a blasphemous 9k

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Tags: @st4rfevrr @archangelshavethetardis @likeeliterallywtf @tremendoushorsepatrolgoth @tulipps-maehem @thesnailus @shamblespirate @gabi-moureira @ferretsqueen

A kaleidoscope of colors took up your worldview.

Swirling in an endless grace of sweet blues, deep rich greens, and soft mellow browns. None of them were very recognizable shape-wise. Each was holding something akin to maybe a building floating on its axis or a flower harshly bent at the stem. Either way, you didn’t care.

Eyes heavy with every tear you had ever cried in your lifetime somehow pressed against your pupil. The world cast ripples in your vision until they slowly turned into something more recognizable. Something that felt like home.

Or at least a very small portion of it.

“Just stay here. Don’t make a sound no matter what you hear okay?”

Your Dad's voice floated towards you warm and reassuringly like it always was. Soft eyes followed by his large hand reaching out to hold yours. Your round eyes blinked trying to see him. See him past the water ripples clouding your vision. You felt a warm liquid slide softly down your cheeks before the rippling water gave way.

“Pumpkin, it's okay. We’ve practiced this, remember? Nothing to be worried about, I'll come get you when it’s over.”

You were somewhere mostly dark. The walls were tight and small around you. Your father bent down on one knee, looking into the small wooden cave you reside in. A bright light behind him filtered through his hair softly. Looking down you felt his big hand tighten around your rather small one. Small and soft like it was new to the world. You squeezed his hand back with what little strength you had, urging him not to leave you alone again for just this once.

“D-Dad don’t leave me.” With each word that slipped past your tongue, it sputtered out messily. Your voice was high-pitched and whiny. Desperately wanting to just claw onto the man in front of you so he wouldn’t have the chance to leave. But you also supposed that he was holding onto your hand so tight so that you couldn’t move. So you couldn’t fight to stay with him.

“Baby we’ve been through this I can’t-” a loud rousing of yells erupted from nearby. The piercing sounds of gunfire broke any sense of peace. Each shattering echo made you flinch violently with every draw. Your father turned his head off to the left, eyes trained carefully at something in the room before he looked back at you. All that reassuring love once smeared on his face was gone. Instead that dreaded worry had replaced it.

He let go of your hand quickly. Bringing his hand closer to his torso so you didn’t have a chance to grip him. “I need to go. Stay here. Be silent. Don’t come out unless you hear our secret knock.”

You barely even heard him when he spoke. Barely even processed anything that was happening. All you could hear was your heartbeat twitching in your ears and the sounds of yelling outside.

It made a lump form in your throat. Lunging to either wail or scream or do something. To just do anything but you remained silent. That look in your father's eyes wouldn’t allow anything but silence and you knew that.

So he quickly grabbed something off the wall, using it to close the gap between you and the rest of the world. Between you and him.

Darkness slowly seeped into your space until nothing but a slit of light was fluttering through. Your Dads face peeking in one last time.“I love you Y/N.” He whispered, his voice soft and delicate against your ears like a stray feather floating in the wind.

But before you could even manage to speak he shut the door completely. Leaving you alone with the silence and the screams once again.

__________

Unlike all your other dreams this one didn’t cause you to wake up in a panic. Covered in sweat, your eyes groggily peeled themselves open. Met with just an average wooden ceiling in your view.

Your head was light as if it was full of helium. The corners of your vision were covered in a soft vignette just daring you to fall back asleep. Daring you to slip back into the comfortable numbness. To go back into the hiding place you had so long ago.

That is until you felt a sharp pain erupt in your chest when you breathed in a little too deep. In a rush, you tried to sit up. Contracting your muscles as always but instead of a smooth arising, a sharp pain stabbed at the center of your chest. A yelp escaped your lips and your back immediately stiffened against the cot once more. Jaw clenched in pain as you felt the raw flesh of your throat and lungs. It was like a cat had crawled inside you and scratched down your throat making you regret having made a single noise.

With your head propped up on a thin pillow, you manage to crane your neck to look at the rest of the room.

Am I in a med bay?

It was a small space and there was only one other cot on the other side of the room. The walls only held a whiteboard with some kind of tally marks and a covered window. A couple of counters and cabinets lined tightly right next to you. A mess of what looked like gauze, bandages, and tubs of what you supposed were ointment splayed out. Other than that you were left wishing for more discernible features about where in the hell you are.

Someone had been in here. Someone helped me. Where the hell are they now and what happened?

Being weak and vulnerable in a place you didn’t recognize wasn’t your ideal wake-up situation. But you also supposed whoever brought you here had helped you out. However, that didn’t make the sense of unease in your gut settle down much.

Fingers and palms splaying against the canvas of the cot you tried to ease yourself up yet again. Going at it a bit slower this time yet the second you applied some pressure you hissed in pain. Your hands stinging like sharp needles were tracing each fine line.

Taking your hands off the cot in a swift motion you stared at them now hovering gently above your face. They were both laced tightly with soft yet slightly scratchy bandages. An inkblot test of what you could only assume was blood seeping through parts of them.

I got injured on my literal fucking hands. My stupid hands of all places. What the hell did I do? Fight a raccoon or something?

Rolling your eyes you decided to trace your body for injuries before you tried to sit up again. Hands tracing over your shirt as you looked down at your body.

Wait a minute. Your hands paused, picking up the fabric of your shirt and lifting it closer to your face. This is not my shirt.

Eyes widening to panic you quickly let go of your shirt and felt down your hips to meet the hem of your pants. And these are not my pants.

You were in what seemed to be some spare clothes. Your underwear was still gratefully intact but the rest was just a pair of loose pants and a T-shirt one size too small.

Mouth agape and staring at the ceiling a warm wave of embarrassment washed over you. The apples of your cheeks and the nausea in your gut only getting worse.

Rubbing your hands over your face you tried to hold back any and all complaints. Your voice was fried and no matter how much you wanted to kick yourself and cry about it you just couldn’t.

As you shifted on the cot your hair hit the side of your face. A strong scent that you instantly noticed was the sea lapping at your nose. Your nose scrunched up as you paused your pity fest to sniff at it more tentatively. Not only did your hair smell like seawater, but so did your skin itself. Like you’d been sleeping in a bed of seaweed all night and hadn’t noticed.

Did I go for a swim or something? Gosh did I drown? Even thinking that made you swallow hard. Shame and dread at the fact that you might've done something unwise yet again. But drowning.

The undertones of that world sunk and swallowed your gut hole. Leaving you breathless in the worst of ways as a downpour of shame filled the dips and hills of your mind.

I remember being cold last night. I remember going to that bar. I remember walking home but then I must’ve done something. What the fuck is wrong with me?

Avoiding the imminent doom looming around you, you slipped your hand under your shirt. Immediately feeling the same tight bandage on your side and the center of your chest.

Great so I either have one or two broken bones. You softly rubbed the bandage on your side. Feeling the stark marks of what felt like torn flesh underneath. It wasn’t aching that badly but you knew if you tried to get up again it would.

Bracing yourself for the waves of pain pinching at your flesh you sat up finally. Eyeing the door across the room with small tears pricking your eyes. Your legs surprisingly didn’t hurt at all. They felt tired and worn out as you slung them over the edge of the cot. Yet when you stood up not a shot of pain erupted from anywhere.

Well, that’s good. Just upper body stuff then. You thought, holding onto the cot to try and find your balance. You could feel your body heaving a bit. Which finally let you take notice of the slight sway your body held. However, you couldn’t tell if it was just you being uneasy or the rest of the room swaying along with you.

This…feels familiar. A wave of nostalgia washed over you. Something so distant in your memory yet so raw with emotion. Looking at the window across the room a thought came to mind.

Am I on a boat?

It was a porthole with a blind shut over it. You were almost a bit afraid to go to that window. To open that stupid shade blocking out the warm light of day just to see something maybe you didn’t want to see.

No no no…I’m not on a boat. Why would I be on a boat? This person just likes porthole windows. Weird decorative choice but I’m not one to judge.

Your body crept towards it. A funny yet scared-looking smile tugging at the corners of your lips. If you didn’t see land on the other side of the window something in you was going to snap.

If I just see nothing but ocean on the other side of that window and not even a speck of island then…

You pinched the blind between your pointer and thumb. Lightly tugging on it until it naturally sprung upwards. A wave of light hitting your eyes as you licked your dry lips nervously.

Oh, thank the fucking lord. The docks of your home island were off to your left. The village was out of your line of sight but there was no mistaking the woods and shoreline you’d come to know as home.

Yet this sense of relief didn’t last long. The swaying of your body wasn’t all you then. Nearly pressing your nose to the glass you saw the soft churn of waves hit the hull below you.

So I’m on someone’s boat. A big boat clearly. A stranger's boat. You couldn’t see anything to identify whose boat you were on from this point of view. The window wasn’t the kind that opened so you were stuck just knowing the bare minimum of your situation.

I haven’t been on a ship in…

A growing wave of nausea hit your stomach again. Pitching forward as an unreasonable wave of panic stretches across you.

Walking staggerly to the door you reached out to open it. Giving only a moment's notice to listen quietly for any sound on the other side before quietly turning the knob and peering out.

It was a hallway that stretched out to your left and right. Even if you hadn’t seen the ocean on the other side of that window you still would’ve been able to tell this was a boat from the hallway.

The slightly lower ceilings, the wood paneling making every surface, the lanterns hung up periodically, and the few dozen scratches or patched-up holes from fights. It was tight and it smelled of the sea through faint drafts.

It's as if it had been ripped straight out of your childhood. Taunting you in an eerie reminder of what you were and somehow still suffocating as always.

I have to get out of here.

Without a thought you headed towards your left, closing the med bay door softly behind you. You needed to find a way onto the main deck and though you didn’t know your way around all you needed to find was a set of stairs.

If I’m on the lower side of the hull I gotta be at least one level down. Maybe one or two sets of stairs and I’m out of here.

With panic lacing your heels you noticed an open section of wall lining your right. You hurried towards it as fast as your weak body could manage before turning to see a beloved stairwell leading up. With bated breath, you started to climb it. Your side and chest aching from each little movement. The stairs creaking in some spots which only built upon the nerves ailing you.

When you finally breached onto the upper level you found nothing but another hallway to scour. Though you noticed this hallway was lined with windows unlike the last. Like a projector slide flashing between images, you saw those same windows filled with nothing but the sky and sea. Blurry silhouettes of men much taller than you walking past. Their rough visages and kind smiles just after visions in the blinding light. You blinked in a rush, rubbing over the space of your eyes and fumbling along the hallway.

It was like all the blood had been drained from your body. Weak and lightheaded you swayed with each step. Daring to pass out as another strong wave of nausea wrestled with your gut. It swelled into a deep ache that had you nearly hunched over. Grabbing your stomach tightly and using the wall for support as you shuffled along.

You couldn’t tell why this was happening. Well, you had a good guess but this sudden enveloping feeling constricting your throat was one you’ve had before. Another set of flash card images blurring your vision in memory of your father's much younger face, kneeled to look at you. Looking down the hallway you saw a door at its end. A bright light seeped through the slits and cast warm dusty rays across the floor.

I just need some fresh air. Some fresh air will fix this. I’ll be fine.

Yet this excruciating hallway seemed to be getting tighter and tighter with each step. You watched as the wall groaned as it crept closer toward your hobbled figure. Breath gasping in succession as fear arrogates your veins.

I need to get out of here. I need to get out of here. This thought was a sledgehammer driving into the front of your brain. Forcing you closer and closer to the door until that 30 feet became one and you were a step away from some sense of freedom. With a sweat-covered brow and a shaky hand, you pushed the door open with a loud creak.

Like a flash bomb, the sun hit your face and you could breathe once more.

__________

Kid hadn’t woken up feeling fresh and relieved. He hadn’t woken up with his body feeling in the best shape it's ever been. No aching, no crawling nerve pain, no head thumping like a toddler slapping the shit out of a drum. If he would just lie to himself a little then all of that could be true.

The fact that he had gotten around maybe 5 hours of sleep because he had to stay up in the med bay getting all his bandages replaced wasn’t real. The fact that Killer had to wake up Hip, the only semi-medic on their ship, to clean his stitches wasn’t real. The fact that instead of the screaming fight Kid was expecting from Killer, he was met with silence. Silence that spoke a thousand words of disappointment and shame. Leaving the Kid wishing they would’ve just punched it out like they always did.

But what Kid didn’t want to think was real. The thing that absolutely could not be real under any circumstances was the fact that he had brought a girl home. Not the kind of girl wanting cheap sex and some fake affection for just one night. Now that would’ve been normal. If anything maybe that's what he needed on his little break.

Yet instead of a girl dressed in lust, it was the kind that he was forced to stare at for an hour on the other side of the room. The kind that had burned into his retinas so he could see his mistake even when he closed his eyes. A big human-sized mistake just laying there like a corpse daring him to think she was real.

Because the second he reached his ship with you in tow he was hit over the head with a reality anvil. One that broke through the layer of alcohol, delusion, and sadness wrapped around his skull.

They didn’t know whether to treat their captain or the barely alive girl first. Why waste medical supplies on a stranger? So when he had watched Hip look her over he had barely paid attention to her words. Asking him what had happened and why he had brought her back. Though when Kid was finally excused, his body two steps away from slamming against the ground, he gave the fake girl one last look. Hips back to him as her hands traced over the figment of his imagination to check if she was even alive. She had been breathing softly the whole time Kid was forced to get fixed up but she was still dead asleep.

A part of him hoped she wouldn't wake up just so he wouldn’t have to deal with it in the morning.

But of course, morning had come to Kids begrudging dismay. Tossing around in sheets that now reeked of the sea because he hadn’t bothered to take a shower. He smelled, looked, and felt horrible.

I’d rather get beat by a bat than deal with this.

So little to say he started his day in a slump. The late morning did little to motivate him as he washed himself clean and then went to the kitchen to down a jug's worth of water. Dribbles of it spilled down his chin and onto the black tank top he wore. The loose swaying of shorts at his hips and the soft meandering steps of some flip flops gracing the halls.

Thankfully everyone else on the crew had started the day off by going into town to get the shopping done and over with. Kid could nearly see the stacked-up crates lining the dock outside in his near future. Yet he knew if he tried to help he’d get shooed away like some sort of child.

If they want me to be lazy I’ll be fucking lazy. I’m tired of trying.

With black coffee steaming gently out of the cup in his hand he sat down at one of the many tables in the mess hall. Trying to avoid the still very apparent problem that was probably still dead asleep just a floor below him.

He didn’t know what to make of last night. To him, it almost seemed like he was an entirely different person. One that wanted to wallow instead of rise to the challenge. One that wanted to give up instead of fight. One that wanted to save some girl because he could.

What the fuck is wrong with me? He rubbed over his face and brushed back his still slightly damp hair. No goggles to hold it up so it hung a tad bit looser around his face.

I saved one stranger and for what? For her to wake up and give me her thanks? I don’t give a shit about her. I don’t even know that bitches name.

There was no weaseling his way out of knowing why he had saved you. His choice to do it was entirely emotions-based instead of logic. There was no gain, no plan, no need for him to do anything when you fell into the sea.

I just...I just...Kid could barely think the words into existence let alone say it out loud. It’s one of the many reasons Killer had gone silent last night. Because no matter how many times he asked Kid why he did it, Kid couldn’t find an answer.

Kid’s thoughts were interrupted by the soft thudding of shoes walking down the hall. His body naturally froze as he heard the all too familiar footstep pattern of his first mate.

Why isn’t he out there with the rest of the crew? Shouldn’t he have left?

A sky blue and cream-colored mask came into sight as Killer rounded through the doorway. Taking a second to look Kid over but otherwise disregarding him as he turned sharply towards the open doorway of the kitchen. Not a single word leaving his lips.

Great. Now he's going to give me the cold shoulder then huh?

“So what? You’re just not going to talk to me?” Kid questioned demeaningly, a lick of vulnerability swirling underneath the thin surface of his tone.

Killer slowed to a stop, turning his head to gander once more at the redhead's large body filling up a small portion of the mess hall. “No. I just wanted coffee.” His voice was smooth and simple but Kid could still hear the underlying sarcasm he was barely holding back.

Kid clicked his tongue softly. Hardballing Killer as if he had said the most idiotic thing in the world. “So you decided to stay on the boat for some coffee? Shouldn’t you be out there? You’re the one in charge of the restock anyways.”

Killer’s voice punched out a little more than before. As if he was just now fully waking up. “I am but I thought you’d need me here. Can’t leave you alone with our little...problem.”

Is he tired? This thought floated in and out of Kids' brain immediately. Killer was always an early bird compared to him. But he knew if he could see past that mask of his, he might see the unusual purple hue sagging below Killer's eyes.

“I can handle it just fine. I’m going to give it a bit. Drink my goddamn coffee and then go down there and throw our problem out. Simple.” Kid’s voice didn’t sound as resolute as he hoped it would. He didn’t have a plan on how to handle this. He barely wanted to speak to the woman let alone throw her overboard, especially with all the injuries she held.

Injuries and death that me and my crew saved her from. Kid swiped his fingers over his eyes. Rubbing them to let the darkness behind his eyelids swirl.

Killer let out a low grumble and scratched the back of his head. Tufts of blonde hair getting frizzy as his voice became even more fatigued. “Is that right? Well, I think you’ll need me. If only to make sure you two don’t argue and she hopefully just leaves.”

Kid just stared blankly at Killer. Using the small amount of brain power he had left to look him over. He is tired. He only stayed up for an hour to watch me when I was getting patched up. Why the hell does he sound like that?

“Whatever. You don't think I can handle one girl so don’t fucking give me that.” Kid picked up his coffee mug. Taking a slow sip as he tentatively eyed his first mate.

Killer paused before he spoke. Chewing his lips a bit and turning back towards the kitchen doorway. Walking over to it and still talking to Kid despite the distance. “You can handle one girl but I don’t think you can handle one girl that you saved. She’s going to ask questions about what happened and why you did it. I’m going to be there to give answers when you inevitably fuck up and don’t say anything.”

Kids' eyes widened at that. A rush of embarrassment and a bit of anger rose to his cheeks. Taking another quick gulp of his coffee before cocking his head to the side. “You don’t know what I’m going to do. She doesn’t deserve any fucking answers so what does it matter anyways? You don’t have to be her shrink and tell her it's going to be alright.”

Killer's body slipped past the doorway and out of Kid's sight. Letting him only faintly listen to the sounds of him grabbing a mug and picking up the coffee jug. “Well if she was persistent about speaking to us last night then I doubt she won’t be this morning. You’re giving a psychotic fangirl a chance at being on our ship. Better yet the guy she wanted to talk to saved her. She’s going to ask questions. Questions I know you don’t want to answer.”

Killer spoke just loud enough for Kid to hear him. Kids face contorting more and more into pure and utter annoyance at the obvious facts that Killer was spilling. “She’s not a fangirl. We don’t have fans Killer were fucking pirates for Christ's sake.” Kid protested, his voice barely audible to Killer's ears.

“Yes, she is. She followed us last night. I know she messed with you or whatever. But love can often get mistaken for hatred. She probably just lied to herself for an excuse to be around us.”

Kid's eyes nearly popped out of his skull hearing that. The grip against his mug becoming firmer and firmer as he watched Killer stride back into sight. Now holding a steaming cup of coffee and heading over towards him.

“Don’t fucking say that to me.” That was all Kid could manage. If he said anything more than that a blood vessel might pop and he’d be left with the bloodshot eyes of an insane man.

Love can get mistaken for hatred? What the fuck is Killer on right now?

Killer eased down into the chair across from Kid. His mug thudding softly against the wooden table and a low grunt of discomfort rolling off his tongue.“What? Don’t you think that girl was flirting with you? I thought about it last night and it seemed weird. Like she had some sort of other agenda about why she was talking to you besides the whole ‘her being worried about you pillaging the town’ or whatever.”

As Killer settled in with his hand holding up his head by the soft fur of his chin, Kid was tensing up. His jaw stretched and snapped tight like he had to pry it open with a crowbar before speaking. His cheeks turning that uncharacteristically shy shade of red. “I don’t know why the fuck you’re telling me this. She can have whatever agenda she wants. I just don’t ever want to deal with her or see her ever again.”

Killer couldn’t help but find Kid's reaction a bit amusing even if it was surprising. Kid wasn’t one for affection and Killer knew that. That’s why seeing Kid turn red at the thought of this girl's supposed crush was extra funny. So much so that he couldn’t help but make it a little worse. “Then why are you getting red in the face? You’ve had girls swoon over you before. Is it just the fact that this one might want to get into your pants that bothers you?”

“Killer I’m going to reach over this table and rip your head off if you keep this up.”

Killer's tired demeanor became much more mischievous. A wry smile tugged at his lips and he leaned forward to speak in a sarcastic yet smooth and romantic way. “I bet it was amazing for her last night though. A big strong man comes to save her just at the right time-”

“Kil I swear to god-”

“Both of you were drenched and grasping onto one another. Looking into each other's eyes and whispering sweet nothings in the moonlight-”

“Killer shut the fuck up-”

“That girl was probably so turned on she was rubbing her thighs together. Wishing you’d just take her-”

“KILLER!” Killer got fully cut off when Kid lunged at him. Standing up and taking his first mate by the collar to tug him forward. Nearly knocking over his coffee in the process as Kid snarled at him.

Killer could barely hold back a laugh. Smiling wildly underneath his mask he softly patted Kid's arms to ease him off him. “Ah okay okay sorry. Couldn’t help myself. It’s payback for last night anyways.”

Kid's hand slowly loosened up. His cheeks burned a bright fiery red as he sat back down in his seat. Steam nearly puffed out of his nose as he took a deep breath. “Yeah? Well, it's a stupid fucking way to get your payback. It wasn’t like that. Quit making me out to be some kind of hero asshole.”

Killer eyed his captain in a attentive yet loving way. He loved whenever he got a chance to get under his skin like this.

And maybe this does make up for last night. We don’t have to focus on our fight. Just the girl.

“Well, I’m not letting it go. You saved some girl and brought her home. That’s hero behavior for sure,” Kid looked at Killer dead on, his face going slack with annoyance again. It made Killer pause for a moment feeling just a tad bit guilty, “But maybe it wasn’t romantic at all for her. Forget all that shit I said about love or whatever. I was just spitballing ideas anyway.”

“Well, I could tell. Saying that shit like you had any idea what you were talking about.” Kid rolled his eyes and finished off the last of his coffee. Letting the smooth and bitter liquid roll down into his stomach to gain an ounce of motivation for the day ahead.

Killer took a smooth sip of his coffee through the little bendy straw he brought along. Just nodding his head like he agreed though he was still pretty sure something more was going on with you.

Or maybe all that blushing means something more is going on with Kid.

A sudden loud noise erupted down the hall. It sounded close but at the same time echoed through the small enclosure and into the ears of the two men sitting idly together. Kid's body perked up, looking over at the doorway out into the hall expectantly.

“Is there anyone else on the ship right now?” Kid mumbled, looking over at Killer who had put his mug down almost instantly. Staring at the doorway more hesitantly than Kid.

“No. Just us. Everyone already left. I made sure of it.” They both looked over at each other. Their shared brain cells functioned at a slower rate before they both came to the same conclusion.

“It’s the girl.” Kid whispered, Killer's head nodding in agreement as they both started to stand up and head out into the hall. Kids empty mug and Killers half full one long forgotten as they walked towards the source of the sound.

“Goddamn, I was hoping she’d just stay asleep.” Kid mumbled to himself more than anything. Picking up the pace a bit as two sets of heels rampantly thudded against the wood below.

“I think it came from on deck.” Killer's voice was quiet. Mimicking the hesitation Kid's voice held. If they thought about it enough, they should be making their presence known. Yelling so she didn’t think she could run off with one of their possessions if that's what she wanted. But if they didn’t make their presence known, then maybe they wouldn’t have to deal with her. She could slink away on he own accord without talking to them.

It was a juxtaposition between hesitation and necessity as they reached a door. Pushing it open and stepping out together to scan the deck. A chill ran down Kid's spine as he felt the brisk wind hit his bare legs. Within an instant, he saw you but of course, you had a habit of surprising him at this point.

“Shit.” You mumbled under your breath. Panting softly as you clenched tightly onto the banister of the stairs leading down to the lowest part of the deck. Your face was a shade paler than usual. The blood ran cold inside of you as you desperately tried to pretend you hadn’t slipped on the stairs not a minute ago.

“H-Hey guys. What’s up?” Kid could instantly tell by your voice that you were hanging on by a thread.

Well, I think anyone with eyes could tell she’s a fucking mess.

“What are you doing?” Left Kid's lips before he could even really contemplate what was happening. Walking closer to the upper edge of the stairs to look down at you. Killer in tow with his hands crossed over his wide chest.

You looked between the two large men like you had done the first time you met them. The blondie is still quiet and reserved. The redhead, or Kid you supposed, is demeaning and talkative.

They’re already tall enough. They didn’t have to take the high ground for Christ's sake.

“Nothing.” Kids' eyebrows of course rose at that. Leaving you stuttering to come up with something that didn’t sound stupid. “I mean not nothing but definitely something. I don’t know.” Your body swayed a bit as you gripped the banister even tighter. You’re fingertips turned a shade whiter as you swallowed down what felt like oncoming nausea.

Did they kidnap me? Is that the only reason why they decided to patch me up was to sell me off? I can’t just tell them I’m leaving if that's the case.

“Well, you falling on the stairs doesn’t seem like nothing.” When the blondie spoke it almost partly startled you, it was the first time you could hear his voice. It was similar to Kids as if they were from the same area. But it was slightly higher and more raspy in tone. It almost made you forget what the man had even said. A blush rose to your cheeks as you shook your head defensively.

“Well, I’d like to see you try to walk down some stairs with wounds and nausea asshole.” That slipped past your tongue before you could even reel it back in. Still holding on for dear life as the panic seemingly never wanted to settle in your veins. “I feel like I got gutted. What the hell happened to me?”

Killer didn’t mind being called an asshole, he's been called much worse. But watching you spit that out with such a raw look of utter exhaustion and frustration on your face was a bit much. You seemed to be falling apart right in front of him for some reason.

Was she hurt that bad?

“What the fuck is with you? Are you about to keel over right now?” Kid took Killer's thoughts right out of his mind. The girl had barely walked that far from the med bay but she seemed to be sweating and breathing heavily like she had run a mile.

You frowned at the two men, taking a deep and shaky breath before you spoke. “I don’t like it on this ship. I want off and I want to know what happened.”

Whilst Kid's eyebrows furrowed, Killers raised. Confusion struck both of them at the mere fact that you didn’t seem to remember the events of last night. “So you don’t remember?” Killer asked calmly, taking a hesitant step down the stairs towards you. You’re shaky pupils locking onto him in fear.

“No, I don't remember. I don’t remember anything past…the walking home I think. What the fuck did you people do? Beat me and dunk me in water?”

The instant you said that Kids' anger rose from about an average 5 to an 8 out of 10. His one good hand clenched into a white line of knuckles as he stepped down the stairs in a stomping motion towards you. “We didn’t fucking beat you dumbass! We helped you. If I wanted to beat you I’d do a much better job than the fucking ocean did.”

The second Kid started stomping down the stairs towards you, you turned around. Finishing off the last couple of steps with trembling knees and scurrying out into the middle of the deck a good distance away from him. “Stay the fuck away from me!” You yelled putting your hands up defensively even though you felt like a pile of Play-Doh.

Kid paused when he reached the bottom of the stairs. Clicking his tongue and watching you with predator-like precision. “That’s not a nice way to say thank you.”

If your frown couldn’t get any deeper then somehow it found a way. Your throat tightening up like his huge fist was somehow already around you. “What do you mean the ocean? I..drowned didn’t I?” You ignored his other comments. This man didn’t deserve a thank you until you knew what had happened.

“Yes, you fucking did brat. Your fatass fell into the ocean. You ended up here with a fresh set of bandages.”

You barely even registered the insults he was throwing your way. Just swallowing hard as he called you a fatass before wearily speaking once more.“But…how…how did I end up falling into the ocean?” Your voice became a hint softer, frustration bleeding into sadness and maybe even regret.

“Because you’re an idiot that's why. You thought the jetty was a walkway and got swallowed up. It's all your fault so don’t blame me.”

Kids' harsh words hit you hard. Eyes daring to prick with tears as you took a minute to just settle into what you had learned. A weak and bandaged hand raked through your hair as you stared at the ground below you. “Shit.”

The two men just watched you work through it. Both of them having a hard time trying to understand why the hell you seemed so sad about it.

What the hell is wrong with this girl?

“Quit being a brat and dwelling in it. You survived and because you survived you get the honor of personally walking off my ship all by yourself like a big girl.” No matter how hard Kid tried he couldn’t strain himself to be any more reassuring than that. It's not like he wanted to be reassuring but you seemed to be an absolute mess in need of a push. A push off his ship that is.

And though Kid was taking a more aggressive approach Killer couldn’t help but notice the turmoil you were in. Walking past Kid and slowly approaching you with as much benign energy as he could. “Are you okay?”

You looked horrible. Face still a shade paler and your eyes glossed over somewhat. The clothes they had given you stuck to your skin with sweat. Your body swayed even more as if you were caught in a much stronger current than the one currently rocking at the boat.

His voice barely reached your ears. Those same memories, visions, and blood-curdling screams drowning you out. The warm fire on your skin. The ice-cold water in your blood. You tried not to pay attention to it. Eyelashes fluttered closed as you rubbed over your eyes. The darkness did little to help you as you stumbled backward.

Something took hold of Kid's heels as he walked closer to you. Stepping past Killer to land just a few feet in front of you. His chin tilted down to leer at you though his eyes couldn’t help but wander. Trying to pierce through the strange weak form of a woman you had become.

“What’s wrong? You’re fine. It can’t hurt that bad if you’re walking.” He spoke, his voice a bit quieter yet still just as harsh.

What the hell is she doing? Faking this shit for sympathy? Nothing bad is happening.

Hearing Kids' deep voice so close startled you out of your stupor. Your shoulders twitching as you finally slip your hands off your face to look up at him.

Kids eyes widened seeing wet crystal-like tears on the ridges of your eyes. Mouth going slightly agape and eyebrows raising in what you assumed was disgust.

“I’m fine. I can handle the pain. Just get me off this ship.”

Kid was confused to say the least.

Is she crying because she got hurt or because…she doesn’t want to be near me? Because she wishes it wasn’t me that saved her? For some reason that thought made his mind blare red. You’re once helpless figure now cast in something weak and greedy in his mind. A leech on the stray strands of his kindness that he felt like plucking and squishing to death between his fingers.

“Are a few screws loose up there or something? Why the hell are you crying? I let you on my ship that you were drooling over. I used my supplies to bandage you up. I gave you my precious and invaluable attention for more than a few minutes. I even risked my life to save your ass. You should be fucking thankful not crying.”

Killer's mask glided between the two of you. Your face scrunched up in confusion as your lips parted to speak. But before you could utter a single word he piped up. “Kid, what are you doing? I told you I could handle this.” Both you and Kid looked over at him like you had forgotten he was even there. A deep scowl turning more rich with wrath as Kid eyed Killer.

“I’m doing what I fucking want to. I told you I didn’t need your help.” Kid stormed closer, forehead laced with lines as he kept breaching the gap between you and him.

You couldn’t help but look at Kid with even more confusion. Phasing past his words speaking of your ungrateful self to focus on one part that didn’t quite make sense. “Wait did you just say you...saved me? Were you the one that found me?” Wiping your tears with the back of your hand in a quick motion you took a tiny step closer to the man. Not at all afraid of that look of wrath he seemed to be fostering in his eyes.

It was Kid's turn to feel a spike of panic as his cheeks daringly went a shade red. “N-No I didn’t save you! You’re a fucking idiot to assume I’d save someone as worthless as you. I would let you drown without a thought so don’t get me wrong and quit avoiding the question. What the hell is wrong with you?”

Despite the obvious turmoil you were feeling, another round of anger splashed into the cesspool of your mind. “Nothing is wrong with me! I’m fine. I just don’t like being on ships. I need to get the fuck off this thing like right now.” You looked away from Kid, shuffling towards the nearest banister parallel to the dock.

With one brutal step Kid bounded towards you once again. Spit flying past his red-painted lips as he spoke. “What do you mean you don’t like being on ships? Are you seasick or something? My boat is barely swaying ya baby.”

“It’s not sea sickness. I just don’t like it okay? Can you quit asking me why and just help me?” You kept just trying to walk away from Kid. Eyes scanning the deck trying to figure out where they kept that plank to walk down on.

Kid paused as he watched you. Your short fluffy head whisked in the wind as you helplessly looked around for a way off.

Is this girl always a helpless little puppy?

“Well, I’m not helping you until you thank me. So get off this boat yourself or fucking fall off I don’t care.”

“Kid don’t you want her gone?” Killer whispered huskily. Of course, it caught your ears though. Turning your head briskly to look between the two men as they exchanged sideways glances.

“What I want is a thank you from her but she’s too much of a brat to cough it up.” Kid laid it on real thick as he spoke. Taking the time to pronounce brat harshly as if his tongue was dripping with venom.

You swiveled your head back towards Kids. Sharp teeth coming into sight as you snarled at him. “Can you stop patronizing me? Quit acting like you're the better person here or that I owe you anything.”

“You do owe me something! A goddamn thank you and maybe an apology while you’re at it. Do you think you deserve to be on my ship? Do you think I wanted to deal with you? I’ve been putting up with you the moment I came ashore instead of fucking relaxing like I was supposed to!”

“How is that my fault?! You never had to talk to me at the bar. You never had to save me or whatever you and your crew did. I was just there doing what I wanted to and you made it your problem. So boo-hoo bitch you fucked up your vacation!” You flung your arms in the air and brashly pointed at him. Quickly turning around and stomping towards the banister in a rush. You gripped its wooden edge, leaning down to look at the fear-inducing height between you and the dock.

Kid couldn't believe what he had heard. Well, he could believe the name-calling and the crass tone in your voice. And though those things made him want to boil over it also made him want to disappear. You were right. He did inherently inject himself into all of your problems. He put himself into the line of fire that was you. And though he knew this deep down it wasn’t going to stop him from telling himself that it was a lie. That you were the villain plotting nefarious plans to make his life a living hell. That the moment you were finally gone maybe things would start going his way. Even so, he didn’t exactly understand why he wasn’t just escorting you off his ship if that was the case.

My life would be easier with her gone. So why do I need this? Why am I keeping her here? She means nothing to me.

That thought crossed his mind just to turn his cheeks red. His knuckles were white as he wiped off the small layer of sweat across his brow. He could feel his stump twitching with a pulse. The new bandages doing little to hide the fiery sensation pinching at his nerves.

That’s it. I’m ripping her fucking head off. He watched you with keen eyes. Not willing to speak in case he let something slip that was beyond him. Beyond what he was willing to admit.

Killer cautiously stepped closer to Kid with pleading yet gentle steps. “Hey, I can handle this. Go inside. She’s being a bitch I realize but you're in no shape to-”

“To do what? Kill this bitch? Let me handle it Kil. She’s my problem.” Kid roared, your head jerking backward to watch the two men. With yet another string of panicked actions, you tried to sling your foot over the banister. A ripping pain snapping through you as it pinched the injury on your side.

If there is a God can they just give me a break and let me get off this damn thing!

With quick succession, you tried to jump onto the banister once more. Hooking one foot over quickly and bouncing up to sit on the carved railing. Your ass slammed against the ridged wood making you grunt and lean over in pain. Hanging one leg off the side of the boat as you looked down to sea the line between dock and saltwater below you.

“What the fuck are you doing? Do you want to fall off?” Kid couldn't believe how stupid you were. Your round body hanging off the edge into what could be yet another nose dive into the ocean. “Are you trying to drown again because believe me sweetheart I can make that happen.” He growled walking towards you.

That look on his face spoke a million words and all of them screamed murder. But in the other direction was of course a one-story drop that made piss nearly trickle down your legs.

SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT.

“Okay okay! I’m sorry! I said I’m fucking sorry so stop!”

This wasn’t your proudest moment but it was one you hoped to walk away from with all your limbs intact. Despite your pleas, Kid didn’t come to a stop. Still barreling towards you as if he hadn’t heard a thing. You tried to shuffle off the banister but he was already right up on you. Watching with shadowed eyes as he leaned uncomfortably close. His face was a mere foot away as his one arm grabbed onto the railing to close you in.

“I don’t know. That didn’t sound very genuine to me. How about you try again?” The intensity of his voice was suffocating you. His mountain of a body caging you in and his face far too close for comfort.

You could nearly feel his breath fan across you as your cheeks slowly blossomed a deep red. Trembling lips followed by a quiet voice to match your submission. “I’m sorry for bothering you and being a nuisance.” You swallowed hard, dryness tearing at your already sore throat. If your blood was cold before it had gone even colder.

Kid's eyes flickered between yours. Soaking in that look of fear and desperation running across your face. It was palpable to the point where he could taste it on his tongue. Sweet and sour like the softness of your voice but the bitterness in your eyes.

Finally, the kind of reaction I deserve. He thought without a word. The silence between the two of you was so raw with tension. Egging on your fear even more. “And what else do we say? Don’t make me push you off so be a good girl and just say it.”

Confusion flashed through you. Blinking back and forth between his amber orbs. “What?” Your voice was so soft Kid could barely hear it. Cheeks going aflame as you leaned off to one side trying to get away from him. But as soon as you did that the boat tipped. A wave rocking along with you and your pants providing little friction to keep you upright. You tried to squeeze with your thighs but they slipped along with your hands. “K-Kid help!” You yelped, your body slipping right off the banister towards the waters below.

Kids eyes widened watching this all unfold right in front of him. He didn’t make a move to help you right away but as soon as your body dipped too far off and your legs unhooked from the banister he reached out. Taking hold of your forearm with a vice-like grip. “F-Fucking hell.” He let out a deep grunt. Abs leaning over and onto the railing to reach you. Your once-falling body now slack against the side of the hull. A wretched yell of pain escaped you as your injuries spasmed.

“Ahh fuckin shit K-Kid help me up!” Your other hand grasped onto Kid's forearm. Feet trying to kick upwards to propel you more.

“You’re not fucking light ya know!” He inhaled deeply through his teeth. His jaw clenched tight as he struggled to keep ahold of you. You’re soft arm slipping in his sweaty hand.

“Captain?”

Kids' eyes break away from your lingering stare up at him. Finally noticing the contents of the dock below. A line of his crewmates were standing idly watching the two of you. A few baskets and crates in hand as if they had paused mid-step to spot the two of you.

Kid didn’t know what to say. Almost forsaking you as his arm naturally went limp. “Kid!!” His body flinched back into life when he heard your voice again. Muscles contracting once more to reapply pressure before you slipped out of his grasp.

You didn’t dare look down at the crowd below you. Eyes focused on Kid and the fast approaching footsteps of what you assumed was Killer not too far behind. But Kid's eyes weren’t on you. Dare say they had paused in one particular spot further down the dock towards the island. Once wide and glossy with embarrassment now honed and focused on something else.

“Who is that?” Kids voice was low and quiet. Pulling you up towards him with a breathy grunt. Killer finally took up the space beside Kid. Grabbing onto your other arm and effectively sliding you over the banister like a towel.

Sliding onto the deck your head almost slammed right into Kid's chest. Killer quickly let go of your arm. Grabbing you by the shoulder to steady you until you stayed upright.

“Y/N?” a voice called. With wobbly knees and blushing cheeks, you held tightly onto Kid's arm for support. Your breath hitching in the realization of who Kid was asking about. Slowly and unsurely you turned your head towards the source of the voice, only to find the worst-case scenario just standing there.

“H-Hi Dad.”

A/N: Okay okay okay I realize that I’m making Y/N like EXTREMELY clumsy for no reason. It’s apart of her character yes but I promise she isn’t always the classic clumsy girl in need of saving trope!! Things will change. She will get better. She’s just GOING THROUGH IT right now. I mean like drowning, then on boat you don’t know, to fear for lore reasons, to angry man threatening you, to almost dying again!! Like it’s BAD BAD for her rn. ALSO I hope ya’ll are concocting some sweet ideas y/ns past lol. I feel like I’m making it too apparent but I’m also not sure??? There’s a lot to unpack there.

#one piece #one piece eustass #eustass kid #eustasscaptainkid #killer one piece #kid pirates #one piece x reader #x reader #eustass kid x reader #massacre soldier killer #eustass kid x y/n #eustass kid x you

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imagines-to-quench-thirst · 1 year

Text

Speak in Flowers

Flowers speak their own words and show their actions. And your man loves to speak it out loud.

Includes: Victor Creed (Sabertooth), Loki, Thor, Steve Rogers (Captian America), Bucky Barnes (Winter Solider), Bruce Wayne (Batman), Clark Kent (Superman), Arthur Curry (Aquaman), Orm Marius, Joker, Duncan Vizla (Polar)

All my knowledge about the flowers I found on this link

Enjoy this little fluff piece!

Victor Creed (SABERTOOTH)

PINK CAMELLIA: Longing for you

Victor lives his long life with little to no memories, as most are filled with shocking trauma and events. As years passed and you met him, he was emotionally stunned, fearing what to say and show. The relationship was blooming and bubbling into a fresh memory Victor did not want to miss, but his life did not build him that way. Books helped a lot to him, for him to communicate in ways he needed to express to you his love, his devotion, and his happiness.

You keep every single post-it note, notes in your books, phone, and bathroom mirror he has left. Victor wished to show more of himself in small ways. And therefore, he went for a long walk around the city trying to find a token he could present to you with pride. And then he stopped in front of a flower shop, not looking at all the roses it had on display but at the daintiest petals—pink Camellia. An older lady approaches him, saying.

"Their meanings are Longing For You."

Victor's mind clicks, "I'll buy it."

Returning home, he presents the flowers to you with a slightly spoken tone "I thought of you when I saw them."

Loki

HONEYSUCKLE: Bonds of Love

Ever since Loki decided to take the position as Thor's right hand in governing New Asgard, he inescapably made date nights a fantasy to have. Seeing him several times a month and a few weekly calls doesn't leave much to it. It was as heavy for Loki as for you. Two lovers from different realms trying to make it work. With that, the distance made Loki a nuisance to your delivery man. Every day at 11 am, at your door with a package in hand. At this point in time, you are on a first-name basis.

"Morning, Y/n. Back again."

"Morning, Stephen. Thanks again. Have a cookie."

Loki sent small things that could be delivered easier and faster so you could feel his presence somehow. Most of the packages held a few popular treats, accompanied by letters from him depicting how his day was and always, at the end, writing how much he misses you and cannot wait to have you in his arms. In a new package from today, this one was the most fascinating. Opening the brown box, Hologram butterflies exited the box flying around the room, glowing slightly green as they dispersed into thin air. Looking down, you see delicate branches colored with pink and orange petals, each branching out in their own direction, forming a halo-like shape. Opening your phone, you snap a picture and google search for its name

"Honeysuckles? Hmm...Thanks, Wikipedia. Now let us see the meaning."

Bonds of love.

"Oh, how I miss you, Loki."

Thor

MARJORAM: Joy and happiness

Thor was in a tight position. He was now leading New Asgard on Earth and managed to convince you to try and live in this new area so you could be with him. Not ready to fully move there, you decided to live there for the next 3 months, taking a well-deserved break from work. Living there was a new experience, and you were there to witness the city's first town meeting, first competitions, first restaurant openings, and, as of this moment, the first festival with Thor in hand. Even Loki was there looking somewhat happy but primarily absent.

"You good, Loki?"

"A bit. Seeing the Asgardian people happy makes me joyous, but I miss my lover."

"When are you seeing them?"

"In a few days. They do not know. It will be a surprise."

You looked at him, offering a comforting hug as the people walked around enjoying themself. The sky rumbled, announcing Thor's imminent arrival. Thor's step continued to rumble, and Loki stepped away from you, joining the crowd. Thor was now in front of you, smile beaming and hands full of... green leaves?

"MY DARLING!!" Thor shouted

"Thor...no need to shout. I am in front of you."

"Excuse me! Here you go!"

Thor offers the bouquet of green leaves to you. You accept, sniffing the faint smell of herbs.

"Are these used for... cooking?"

"Yes, I mean, no. Well, the nice lady in the flower shop told me they complement any meat, fish, or vegetable."

"Thanks, I guess..."

"That is not the point of those flowers. Their meanings are Joy and Happiness. Which I feel those feelings when I am with you."

Thor explained nervously, glancing at you with hearty eyes, hoping you would like them as much as he loves you.

"I love you... and the flowers." you replied

Bucky Barnes (Winter Solider)

BLUE AND RED SALVIA: I think of you/ Forever mine

Bucky loves love. Because of you. He cherished the moments he got to experience in this new modern life when he thought it would be a throw-away line. He adored each of those love-filled moments and loved making them even more. Bucky had a small notebook at all times with him where he wrote each moment he did with you, keeping an excellent timeline as well as future notes on what he should do next time. While looking at his notebook, he noticed the lack of gift-giving, especially flowers. Flowers for Bucky where a personalized and live-like message for your lover. And therefore, he decided to find flowers that were the definition of BUCKY. Walking to market place, Bucky walked among the fresh fruits and produce, looking and thinking until his gaze was filled with so many flowers. Stopping at the sight, Bucky hears a thoughtful voice inquiring

"Looking for a unique flower?"

"Yes, for my partner. Something that would depict me as a flower, if there is a flower like that." Bucky speaks self-doubt lacing his voice

"Of course there is; flowers speak many languages."

Bucky nodded, looking at the flowers stopping at two different versions of the same densely packed tubular flowers with velvety leaves. Red and blue.

"Those are Salvia. The red ones mean 'Forever Mine', and the blue ones mean 'I Think Of You'. Hummingbirds and butterflies love them."

"I do call Y/n hummingbird from time to time." Bucky whispered while taking out his wallet to pay, "I'll take them both."

Arriving in a better mood back home, Bucky found his love lounging on the couch. Walking to you with light ninja steps, he placed the flowers in front of you.

"Suprise!"

Steve Rogers (Captian America)

HOLLY: Defense, Domestic Happiness

Steve was on many missions, which were given with his work/lifestyle. So he relished in it when he was home with you. His housewife kink was really showing (if you know what I mean *wink wink*). He adored it when he was doing the laundry with you, doing the dishes, decorating the room the way you like, and planting new herbs and vegetables in your garden. Steve was sold on the whole fantasy he has with you. And he wanted you to show you that. Everyday. Every second.

With that, Steve went on a hunt to find flowers he knew would communicate that. Steve hopped onto a public train in his best 'don't look at me, I know I am famous' disguise, glimpsing at the passing city inching closer to the town center and hopping off his stop going towards a flower shop as he goes cautiously to the lady

"Good day, ma'am. The name is Frank Castle, and I am looking for a flower that would communicate that I love my home and my partner." Steve said, trying not to be suspicious of his 'real name.'

"That name rings a bell, but you don't seem familiar from the photos I have seen of 'Frank.'" The lady says with a hint of suspicion in her voice, looking at the tall blonde up and down. But he wasn't the only one who appeared in front of her with a fake name, and she was a pro at sniffing out a fake. Nonetheless, she wasn't going to put the man in a tight spot.

"Is there a flower you like? Any flower that speaks to you?" She asked. Steve, I mean Frank, looks at the flowers, seeing all kinds of colors and textures in an ecstasy of nature's artistic expression. Finding a dainty four-petal flower so tiny and minuscule an untrained eye would not catch its beauty.

"That is a Holly. They mean 'Defense' and 'Domestic Happiness'." Steve smiled at the flowers that were the size of a pin, smiling gleefully, "I'll take them."

Walking back home with a bouquet in hand, steve opens the door seeing Y/n making dinner. "Y/n? Turn around." Turning around, steve smiles at your surprised smile, appearing in a second when seeing the flowers.

"A little something so you know what I feel when I am with you."

Bruce Wayne (Batman)

IRIS: Faith, Trust, Wisdom, Hope, Valor

Bruce knew he had it good with you. Really good. You were so, so SO understanding of him, his actions, and his double life. Not even once doubting him but being there with him. Bruce wanted you to know how much he loves you for that, and there were so many ways he could show you that. Trips, gifts, new adventures in new parts of the world, you name it, he will give it to you in seconds. But Bruce remembered that the smallest things mean the most, something he learned from his father when he saw him give his mother flowers every single day when returning from work. As Bruce was in his 'day' office, he called up a number of the oldest flower shop in Gotham, knowing the owner quite well.

"Mr. Wayne. Good to hear from you." The lady said happily

"Mrs. Flowerbottom. Always good to hear from you as well. I would need your expertise. I have been with my lover for a few months now, and I would like some flowers that describe them."

"Of course. And how would you describe your lover, Mr. Wayne?" "They are smart, brave, trust me, and I trust them, and quite simply, they are my hope for a better future." The lady chuckles at the honey-covered words from the billionaire former playboy looking at flowers that describe y/n to the bone.

"I am looking at them right now. Would you like to add a note?" "Yes, it would be: "Thank you for being yourself. I love you with all my strength and heart. Yours always, Bruce.""

Hanging up and finishing up the day, Bruce entered his car smiling, knowing that in a few hours, his lover will a unique surprise back in their shared home. Arriving back at Wayne manor. Bruce looks at the enormous bouquet of Hydrangeas standing proudly in the middle of the living room, a small note with a definition of irises at the bottom of the bouquet

IRIS: Faith, Trust, Wisdom, Hope, Valor

The keys jingle again as you enter, seeing Bruce standing next to the bouquet, saying softly

"These are for you."

Clark Kent (Superman)

YARROW: Everlasting love

Clark was a Boy Scout. Everyone called him that; the man was a boy at heart personified. His smile never dropped, he was always ready to help others, and he was a lovesick puppy at heart. So lovesick. Clark breathed you. His demeanor changed completely when he was with you. He was and still is diving head-first into the relationship. Telling you about his plans with you having a house, having kids, and an all-around perfect life. He wanted it with you.

Clark made it his everlasting task to bring you home flowers every day after work. To show you that he loves you to the ends of the universe and back. One day when he was going to his usual flower shop he saw new flowers, flowers that weren't there yesterday. And those flowers beckoned him to come closer, sniff them, and be entranced in their intoxicating smell. "They are called Yarrow." the lady said, smiling at the glasses-wearing dork. "They mean Everlasting Love."

Clark smiles at the yellow droplet-like flowers taking them in hand and smelling the sweet and tangy fragrance. Waving the lady goodbye, promising to arrive again tomorrow as he heads home to his love. Hearing the door open, you walk towards Clark, ready to give him his welcome home kiss, but before you can do that, Clark shows you yellow flowers with the tangiest smell.

"For my everlasting love."

Arthur Curry (Aquaman)

ASTER: Symbol of Love and Daintiness

Arthur loved to scare and surprise you. He loved to go behind the couch to scare you and then present you with a small gift to make you not angry at him. Trinkets such as seashells, funny coffee mugs, or even t-shirts were out of context and confusing. It was funny, really. And sometimes Arthur can go overboard with the scares to the point where you get mad at him and make him sleep on the couch. Like today, Arthur woke up with a stiff neck and aching back while you were well-slept and making yourself your morning tea. Arthur messed up big time, and he was on a mission to make it better by the end of the day. Running like a headless chicken to town, Arthur zoomed past people startling them along the way. Halting to a stop, he sees his salvation, a flower shop. Walking inside, he is greeted by a lady seeing him disheveled and out of breath.

"Please, help me. I messed up with my dove, and I need your best flowers." He pleaded

"Look around the store and see what flower catches your attention." Looking around the room, Arthur spins a few times around, his mind starting to blur, dizziness taking over his decision process. Slowing down, his body turns to a corner of the room with purple-colored daisy flowers.

"The daisies!" Arthur exclaimed, pointing at them like a 3-year-old kid. The lady chuckles as she walks over to them, taking them out of the vase. "They are called Asters. They mean Symbol of Love and Daintiness."

"Well, my dove is dainty and my symbol of love. I'll take them." You watch from the window as Arthur walks back home with flowers in hand, a big smile on his face. The door unlocks, and you make yourself busy by staring blankly at your book as Arthur inches closer, extending his hand which held the flowers. Looking at him, uninterested, he says

"They are called Asters. They are symbols of Love and Daintiness. And to me, you are both. And I am sorry to scare you so much, and I love you."

"....fine. I accept your apologies.Dumbass."

Orm Marius

CALLA LILY : Beauty

Orm had a first relationship with a human. A surface dweller. Someone he held no positive emotions, and yet...he was smitten. So much so that he decided to live with them a few days a week as a start. Orm felt himself stumble into a new world, a world where some souls expressed themself with care, actions, words, or even presents, the most popular being flowers. As Orm walked around town with his chosen love, he saw a flower shop looking at the offers they had. Letting go of Y/n's hand, he walks over using the given time while Y/n's distracted by the fountain waterworks. Stepping closer, he stops at tubular shape flowers.

"They are Calla Lilly. They are extraordinary flowers." the lady working speaks to Orm. "Why are they special?" Orm asks, looking confused at the white flowers.

"They mean beauty. In their own language," she explained.

"The flowers have their own language?"

"Yes, in a way. The flowers you give to your loved ones can be interpreted in a special way beyond the aesthetic." Orm thought for a second before taking out 5 dollars." I have one paper on this currency. Is that enough to cover the whole store?"

The lady laughed at his bluntness as she took the bill and handed him 3 Lillies. "No, but it gives you 3 calla lilies."Orm grunts at his failure but nonetheless smiles as he walks back to Y/n, handing the Lillies.

"These are for you, my beauty."

Joker

YELLOW JASMINE: Grace and Elegance

J tried to keep his job away from you. he tried to divide his "job" away from your eyes, ears, and hands. But it was not something he had complete control over it. Most of the time, he arrived bruised and bloodied while you played nurse. And he wanted to show you in his own way what you mean to him. So he took you in his purple Lamborghini towards the end of the city, a place that would not be considered part of Gotham, a shrouded place, abandoned houses, people looking at you like with a predator-like gaze. Joker held your hand as you walked towards a tiny restaurant you would surely miss if you did not see the small sign at the bottom of the floor spelling out 'Eat in, not out'.

Entering the place, you and J sit next to each other, and you start to ask questions. This wasn't the place where you two would usually go. No glitz and glamour, expensive tiny dishes that would cost an arm and leg, views that would depict the whole Gotham feeling as if you were running the town. It was all swapped with a one-room-sized restaurant without photos, calendars showing the year 2012, and an elderly woman standing in front of you

"Good to see you, J." She spoke her voice gravely, but her perfume was flowery intoxicating

"And you as well, Mrs. Flowerbottom. For tonight I brought my special person here, and I would like your best dish combo."

Mrs. Flowerbottom smiled lovely at you moving back into the kitchen, and you felt just more question bubble in you.

"You come here often?" You asked, looking at him with more question marks in your eyes.

"I was living here at one point. When I had no money when I was younger, I slept on the floor where we are. This place means a lot to me."

While J spoke, Mrs. Flowerbottom brought out chicken soup on a tray, the bowls big enough for 3 people. And next to the food on J's side, she puts flowers with the same sweet perfume Mrs. Flowerbottom was shrouded in. The small clusters of starry, pure-white petals with rich green leaves. J takes them giving them to you.

"I know that I am not good with words, but I have learned that yellow jasmines mean grace and elegance. And I will give you that. By opening myself up and my history with you."

Kissing his lips, you reply, "I would love that."

Duncan Vizla (Polar)

LOTUS FLOWER: Purity, Enlightenment, Self-regeneration, and Rebirth

Duncan felt his way of life changed because of you. You two lived in his cabin next to the lake, shrouded in snow, away from people, enjoying nature's ambiance, feeling thankful for the experience you are sharing with your Donut. Duncan felt himself being happy. He enjoys chopping wood outside in the freezing cold, knowing that he is chopping them for a fire where he will sit behind you, telling his stories about when he was 'working' back in the day. But Duncan wasn't too much of a gift-giver. He was still finding himself in this relationship. And while Duncan was chopping wood, he saw you peaking outside the window, a blanket on your shoulder looking so cozy and inviting him in. Seeing you wave and then moving back in the room, Duncan stopped his actions and walked behind the house and behind a few trees into the woods, seeing the small Polly dom he made no bigger than a 1-meter squared cube. Removing the shrouded small man-made pond was holding his hard work. He managed to grow louts flowers in this weather and in this land. But thanks to the guidance of a sweet lady, he did a good job.

"Thank you, Mrs. Flowerbottom." He said into the cold wind. Taking his flowers and putting them in a basket, he walks into his home. The warm ambiance melted off his cold shake. And you see Duncan with a small grin, and you know he did something he shouldn't

"If you killed someone and buried them in the back, I do not want to know, Duncan." Duncan laughs as he hands you the cloth-covered basket.

"I didn't kill anyone, but I did something for you." With a puzzled look, you remove the cloth seeing pink lotus flowers, the fragrance filling your nose."

"When did you buy them?" You asked, giving him a kiss on the cheek. "I didn't. I planted them a few months ago."

"Why louts? They are so hard to grow here."

Duncan sits down, looking at you with a warm smile as he holds your hands, rubbing small circles of comfort.

"Because I learned they mean Purity, Enlightenment, Self-regeneration, and Rebirth... which reminds me of you. And a bit of me as well. More so, the rebirth. I feel like a new man with you, with a new life."

Feeling eyes prickle in your eyes, you say with a soft chuckle, "You really know how to make me ugly cry, Donut."

Hope you liked it! Tell me what you think.-V

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joannasteez · 4 months

Text

with me, the world is yours

pairing: roman reigns x black reader authors note: i wrote all of this late summer/early fall and after breaking away from it for so long, i've kind of lost the drive to finish the story in the original way i'd intended to write it, BUT, i am willing to add to it in small ways with little drabbles and such. so whoever reads this, please consider it as background/exposition and or a prologue to whatever gets added to it. if anyone wants to see something added to this specific story please drop me scenarios in my inbox!! word count: 8k

he liked to walk the floor

carpet smooth beneath the expensive drop of his heel and toe. hubris a limitless force, the broad width of his chest swelling. pride, unsullied, raw and ever simple in its existence. it was a deep elegant staining streak along his being that refused to leave him, unless of course he willed it so. and the casino floor of The Summer Isle Hotel, his hotel, filled with this great thundering of rage and joy and desperation. tiny drops of poker chips like small striking claps. the flipping of cards giving that easy slipping swoop against padded black jack tables. the hum of the room was loud, because the room itself seemed, to his eye, to never end. a tenacious buzzing that simmered his blood quick, excited.

the night was young. restless. ruby red suede heels moving, clever and seductive. the color of champagne at every corner his eyes took him, bubbling rich in flutes and set in the sweet form of silk dresses. pearls sitting tempting over cleavages and diamonds dressing the sturdiness of fingers that roamed the figures of excitable women. emeralds, jades and sapphires, taking every shape against the skin that would have it.

earrings, anklets, rings, bracelets......

whiskey and brandy swishing in glasses......

dry champagne hitting the tongue just right......

bodies hugging, lips kissing, eyes glazed over and just so damn greedy......

this...this ceaseless atmosphere. the un-quelled need to have. to take hold. to win.

roman loved to walk the casino floor of his hotel.

but he hated, absolutely hated cheaters. fucking thieves, cunning-less and eager. their tact lacking just as much as their ambition. roman figured, if their schemes were anymore complex, then he'd feel somehow better about their stealing. he'd at least respect their finesse before using their heads to shove them out the entryway doors of the establishment. and what a fine establishment it was, built off the sweat of his brow, his, others, blood and many tears. owning a hotel on the vegas strip was no easy feat and he'd be damned if someone disrespected it. disrespected his work. his vision.

...so then why?...

your eyes flit over to a table just some feet away.

...why did he let you play your games?...

a man in muted clothes gives you a signal. many silent signals, ones roman was once oblivious to, but now overly familiar with, as if he created them himself.

...four seconds of a stare. one mississippi, two mississippi, three mississippi, four. four meaning spade, given they were following the alphabetical order of the suits.

the man, face more punchable by the minute, touches his nose. meaning, the spade is a face card.

and the fucking dealer is young, flips up his card too easily, exposing just before he deals.

roman wants to do many things. to the man, the dealer, and the other pairs around the other blackjack tables following the same system. his fingers curl, ball inward till his palm pains him but his eyes remain as they always did. fiercely void, teetering delicate on some fine line of violence, until you move. speak.

"blackjack", you call. with just enough disinterest that prides the flow of his blood. makes him smirk.

"they've all been at it for days", paul bristles.

"end it", roman calls, walking away.

---

you despised most men, despised their presence, looking at them, unnecessarily speaking to them, breathing the same air as them. they'd bred more trouble than they were ever worth and always, without fail, served up to you, on some disgusting dish, half baked and ill formed, the least discreet of charms, to win even slivers of your attention. it was the usual lousy song and dance, artless and heavy handed. you despised most of them, because they led you to places like these with promises too alluring to ignore. all you wanted, want still, is the money. its all you need.

and they'd all but manhandled you from the casino floor to a room. two men, one barely distinguishable from the other, but then again...they donned shades that matched their disapproving looks. lips turned in scrutiny. but what the fuck did they know anyway?... fuck them and this...this room. a holding of some sort. walls white, chairs black, a purposeful minimalistic touch crafted to intimidate. and it was working...even if just slightly.

your chair creaks, wooden and anxious. you hated this, always would. this forceful feel of surrendering.

and you don't speak first, but because of that neither does he.

grey's scattered about his beard, scarce but still there. slight face lines...stress maybe?...and tawny specks living as freckles. he's groomed to perfection but still there's something about him, a flare in his eye that lends itself to a buried ruggedness. a meticulous sort of brutality.

and he's just sitting there...

...close to you but not too close. enough to open you with his eyes, but not enough to leave you breathless...

he's practiced in this. patient.

...he can't do this all day... you think, till his body sits more comfortable than before. he will if he has to, and he will. to prove a point. to win.

the room is cold. sterile. you shiver some, the first to say anything.

"i didn't do anything wrong".

"then why so defensive?"

you felt some ways away from lethal and the reasons for such a feeling mounting more every second. forming knots in your belly, heat and pressure. guilt and a sickly intrigue. his voice was rich and deep. smooth and commanding. if in another place, at some other time, you could see yourself falling for that voice, lulled and taken by it. you hate it, the hot twinge it drives into your skin. you grow sharp, words throwing like daggers.

"if you were me, sitting where i am, you'd be defensive too".

"i could have you brought up on charges", he presses. toying really. flip and flopping between seriousness and sarcasm. the heels of his shoes click the floors, and you fall slow into the creak of the chair, pulling away from the size of him as he approaches. he bends, levels with you, but even this feels like a looking down upon. "cheating and swindling. maybe even restitution".

"what?" you start. you cant help your self. "not nice enough for a little jail time".

you see his jaw shift. "smart mouth".

you move in with a sudden spell of boldness. "fuck you". your lips twist to spit against the floor. "and fuck your casino".

it's quick. harsh. his fingers long and curling at your jaw. he's warm, grip steady despite the push of your hands. he feels the fight in you, regardless of how soft you are to the touch. skin tender, like untouched feathers.

but still... that damn mouth of yours.

"you tried remember", mirthless but not.

"don't fucking touch me", you rant. hitting at him harder. attempting without end to pry away his fingers, until finally he lets go.

and it's rather shortsighted but brave nonetheless, the way your feet carry you to go at him. to do what exactly? you're not to entirely sure. but it doesn't matter much anyways, not when he's this mountain of a man. herculean and spiting. resolute in fucking with you a little for whatever enjoyment he can get out of the situation, and you know this to be true when your momentum to him is soured, a scream bleeding coarse through the walls.

the dense walls block most of the action, but the scream of pain is undeniable. the faint crush of bone breaking through to where you are, fixing you to the floor where you stand in some sickly mixture of fear and surprise.

"the money or their fingers i asked them". his stare is heavy. daunting. "some of them chose money, but of course they get to keep neither". he walks to the single entry-exit door. body taking up most of the frame. "paul, escort the young lady back to her room".

you scoff on instinct. hating the condescension his tone takes. you shift by them both in a way that knocks your shoulders into their arms. paul's chalky, round face as amused as his boss.

"i can escort myself".

---

amongst the other's lining the vegas strip, The Summer Isle Hotel is the second largest. and where the floors lack that bold blood red carpeting, there is laid instead a fine marbling, in the endless halls and walkways, polished enough to see even the faintest of facial details. the ceilings venture high, littered with crystal chandeliers and in the walls and on ceilings are engraved these renaissance inspired paintings. there is this rhythm to the place, something archaic and forever far away, that is meant to always be desired. as people sip champagne, drunk and more verbose by the second, bleeding their pockets dry to their hearts content, the artistry of the hotel leaves them wondered and greedy. that even as they eat the finest food and drink the oldest wines, there is more to indulge in. more to have, to reach that unreachable place of pure luxury.

it was extravagant and all consuming, and pieces of you wondered what it all felt like. to never want or lack for it, because it was just simply there, at the edge of your fingertips.

the hotel was big enough to get lost in, big enough to lose others in, so when paul sits himself at your table for two, security detailing not too far, just at the edges of the bar, you grow weary and annoyed. he'd been looking for you.

you swirl your drink with a cocktail straw. feeling the pressure of his stare. "im being babysat now?"

his hands fold with an instinctive diplomacy.

"just call it reassurance".

reassurance...that was bullshit. you didn't need to be told things more than once, especially when the talk was as loud and showy as it was earlier. "he made it pretty clear what can happen. i'm a cheater, not stupid".

"there isn't always much of a difference between the two".

you hum, sipping what's left of your drink. "if you're gonna chat me up, buy me another drink then". his brow raises, as if in waiting. you sigh, annoyed at having to perform niceties. "please".

its expert and concise, a look and just under a handful of gestures to the bartender, but his awareness never wavers from the already empty cocktail glasses where vodka-cran once filled. three to be exact. this fourth, he hopes, would be your last, as it was now that the glazing over of your eyes was coming underway. and he'd originally been an advocate for roman's earlier display of brutish prowess, and still is in all honesty, but seeing you, it did unsettle him in very few but poignant ways. he knew enough to know that you were attempting a drowning of frenzied nerve. sitting here, he hopes you understand, like everything else on the strip... its just business.

paul shifts. bringing his chair slightly closer. "the system you use on the blackjack tables, how long did it take to come up with it?"

"not long, maybe a few minutes", you start. sipping and thinking on whether to indulge him or not. but it seems to you now that the whole trip has gone to complete shit so why not. "it's all about assigning basic signals to cards but it's the memory part that fucks people up. memory and performance anxiety". paul chuckles at the absurdity and you grin, slightly pleased at his interest. "practicing in a warehouse versus being on a casino floor, at a table. it's different. anything can happen".

you push away the drink. satisfied. paul's eyes turn soft, with what you think is relief. why relief?

"and then theres the whole finding a weak dealer situation", you continue. "no offense, you guys have a better looking hotel but the venetian runs tight security".

"noted".

its your turn to shift in your chair. asking the question you've been wanting the answer to since the moment happened. "why didn't he break my fingers?"

"who knows. maybe he's waiting for you to get stupid", paul jokes.

"you either are or you aren't. no in between".

"that means you'll stay put then?"

you scoff. "what, i'm on lockdown?"

"the boss says you're free to do as you please. just no stealing".

you smile coy, standing to leave. "you wouldn't mind covering the tab then? can't seem to find my wallet".

---

thief. cheater. schemer. you've heard many names and resented none of them, because at their root, the truth remained what it was. it was artistry. and if you're clever enough, sharp enough, quick enough, finessing could be masterful. the constant putting together of a challenge, a game. and it was practical to love games, because good players win.

but this? this was not practical. he was not practical.

he seemed to be playing a different game entirely. you figure solely to spite you. a figurative spitting in the face if you will.

every waiter of every bar in every corner of the hotel knew your cocktail order. vodka-cran with lime, extra ice. a splash of club soda.

the security detail seemingly doubled overnight and each of them never failed to greet you. a smile and a head tipping nod.

casino floor personnel, always with a subtle but sudden direction, pointed out to you the slots that paid out the biggest and the most often.

the restaurants you dined in refused to give you the check and when you asked why, flustered and confused, they gave the same answer every time.

"because the boss said so".

complementary goods in your hotel room. aged wines and sweets.

tickets to shows you neither wanted to attend or cared for.

if you were a different woman, who lived a different life, you figure she'd find this every bit as enticing as it was. enchanting even. grand gestures made out of some sickly sweet distant admiration. but you were not her and most men you knew or had known only did things; provided, loved, cared, with condition. so only one questioned remained. why? and after days of guessing games, a stomach turning foreboding shifted swiftly to irritation. he'd upped the ante finally, moving from these fairly small gestures, which to you were not small at all, to something a little bit too much for you to take.

and you wonder now if he knows that he's reached your end, knocking hard at the ceiling of your limits. body simmering hot with this slow to finish unraveling feeling. as if at any moment unknown to you, you'll break in some uncontrolled fit of rage. he was becoming more persistent, silent still but more persistent and the affects of such persistence were all around you. soft wool carpeting where marble floors ended, a detailed fretwork spanning every corner of the ceilings, and french sliding doors connecting you to a wide stretched pool looking over the vegas strip.

"the boss sends his regards", housekeeping said after it was all said and done.

from the 6th floor straight up to the 39th, he'd gotten them to move everything you'd bought with you. your clothes, shoes, purses, from a studio room you could just barely pay for, to the penthouse suite.

all of this, and a tiny note atop the dresser.

enjoy your stay - roman

"roman", you try aloud.

it isn't till the next day that you realize he's quite fond of leaving these little letters. words thin and cursive. messages brief enough to never reveal even a semblance of his thoughts.

friday morning his words scribble a small card stuck to the center of a bouquet of white roses.

white desdemona's. enjoy the roses - roman

you struggle for sometime in the bright silence of the morning. the busyness of the vegas strip bleeding a hum in through the sliding french doors. it wouldn't be hard, indulging him. cling fast and easy to soft petaled gestures, quelling finally that wayward need for a romantic sort of fascination. buried so long ago but clawing upwards tirelessly still, begging for relief. but it would be more sensible to deny yourself, which in the same breath meant denying him. tearing that pristine white card in two and setting the roses out to sit just in front your suite door. to send a message, simple but strong, enough for him to understand.

a sudden knock urges you to settle into a resolution quickly. quicker than you were prepared for. the white card now in your hand tearing into two pieces with a twist of your wrist as you go to open the door.

its house keeping.

you place the torn paper in their hand before stepping out of the suite, furthering more down the hallway to the elevator by the second. the roses themselves were too lovely to get rid of anyways.

"tell your boss i send my regards".

---

would you believe them?

a less than modest woman from the north east, standing above the illustrious wonder of the vegas strip. and from your glass flute a slow, smooth sip, along with some restless awakening of a dream, even if it last only for a moment. an imagining from this high place, that with a deep sure breath like some figure from beyond with a vast primordial power, you gave life to this idle desert, and with sun and sand, birthed from pure will what they call fabulous las vegas. but this must be what he feels, day after day, night after night, standing above the rest, the staunch rush of pride, like something simmered well into the run of his blood. for you it was this endless day dream, the money, the power, the access, but for him, it seemed real. it was real.

and still the question remains... would you believe them? a cunning woman, wrapped strapless in leather fine enough to please even the most marred skin, and heels that extend the vicious form of your legs.

just tuesday you were cursing the good name and fortune of this place with your dna splat just mere inches from his shoes, and now here you are friday, waiting for him.

if they, whoever they are, told you sometime ago that you'd be here, you wouldn't have believed them.

he'd done well to send another card, and with it, another gift.

the rendezvous. 7pm - roman

he'd gotten house keeping to do more of his dirty work, the poor bastards, but even their precision was daunting. the placement of the card, and the gift, and the complementary wine, and a single blooming stargazer. the petals dainty and blushing. it'd left you standing deep in a well of emotion, finding everything he'd left, and your bed taken by a box. the lid pulled off quickly by that gnawing urge to indulge him. and despite his initial brutish behavior and persistence, it was safe to say that the man was not void of taste.

but it would be more sensible to deny yourself, like a chant, it'd echoed, and your fingers ran over the plains of something silky. a dress, cool raven color, strong and subduing, but the fabric was so fine to the touch it'd felt criminal to hold. and with it had lived perfumes, bottle after bottle, as if he feared you'd somehow go without. and... fuck... sitting, waiting really, in a satin pouch... two pairs of goddamned diamond earrings. one pair smaller than the other, but both far more delicate than most things you'd ever owned. and soon the short warm swell of excitement had grown cold and hesitating. why was he doing this? what did he want from you?

they were questions you intended to get answers to and it seemed if they weren't answered now then who knows when, unsure if you'd ever see him again.

"you didn't like the roses"

your heart takes to some quick instinctual beating. a ragged fraying of nerves just off the simple sooth and strength of his voice. before, in that silent white room, you were sharp, aware of him but the power of his aura did nothing to sway your wanting to see him pained by your indifference to him. now though... it was so damn different now it seemed, as you were a small ways away from a purely formed nervousness.

you turn just enough to give him your profile, sipping slow at the flute, steeling one buzz under your skin away with another. "i'd like them more if they were red". you face him finally, staying leant up against the balcony railing of the restaurant. "but it seems i don't have much option or choice here".

"no need to choose when everything is the best".

"that doesn't sound self important at all".

"doesn't make it any less true".

champagne has never tasted so good, you think, sipping and fighting the impulse to look away from him. his eyes softer than before but still lying in them are traces of searching for some unspoken truth. it was a much more subdued attempt compared to before, every pass his eyes made about your own, short flickers to your lips, the way you clutched the glass, your hair, your jewelry, the dress you were wearing, like a gentle pealing back of a layer. less scrutiny out of a short bout of anger and more of a learning. he'd come to the conclusion after watching you leave the white room all those days ago that he wanted to learn you.

here now, watching you sip champagne, he wondered if you'd let him.

"listen", you start. taking a closer step to him, with some new found form of resolution, and its hard to keep this will strong and steeled away when he's this close. scent heady and soothing to your senses. "i don't know what you're thinking, but i do know that you got me a lot of fucked up for just hauling my shit-"

"the suite is yours for as long as you want it"

"i'm not paying for it"

his grin is warm. inviting. long fingers slipping the flute from your hold after its been emptied to set it down at a nearby table. "it's yours anyways".

your confusion is palpable, lives in the way you retreat closer to the banister again, for fresher air void of him. in hopes to think more clearly. "just the other day you practically had me hemmed up and now you're-"

"that was different. it was business".

you scoff. "business my ass, fuck you-"

"and fuck my casino, i know".

it's your go to insult it seems, this time having less of an affect on him, but still there is something there. a small stinging pain bruising the very large stain of ego.

you look to him with searching eyes of your own. "so the wine... and-and the roses and just... everything, i mean thats?..."

"gifts. just gifts. not to be payed back ever".

your face fixes in a fashion similar to the first time you spoke to him. eyes defensive and unsure, brows pulling in for a full measure of scrutiny. "why?"

"have dinner with me".

you press again. "why?"

"because", he starts, with a streak of vulnerability. "all of my attention is taken up by a casino resort on the strip of one of the busiest places in the world but for some reason, for the last 72 hours or so i've only been able to think clearly about you".

your eyes roll off instinct despite the flutter feeling in your gut. "am i supposed to be flattered?"

"its the truth".

roman hadn't been a man who lent himself to believing in chance or possibility for sometime. if he wanted something, or hell even someone, it simply happened, because thats the way it had been, since the first burst of the resorts success till before this very moment. when he spoke, the world of the resort opened and bent, twisted and curved till it formed to his liking, so much until the effects of his wants rippled through the whole of the strip till they echoed miles away, through the rolling of nevada desert dust. but you...

the click of your heels, the soft sway of your hips, the way words twisted from your lips comfortable because you knew yourself well enough to know that regardless of his capabilities you'd do something drastic and a bit ways away from reckless before ever letting him get the best of you.

that bravery, an unflinching flame, new and unpredictable and different and more exciting than anything he'd seen in sometime.

whether you were leaving or staying, he follows you and savors even the cut of your eyes. it's quick and fierce, unsure of its power but stripping the resolve of him all the same. and of course a curt look is all you give him, as he opens the door to the rendezvous and follows you in, not a word to him as waiters and well off patrons pass the both of you by. a leisure walk around pristine white cloth dressed tables and velvet chairs, each of your steps like some small conquering of a widely secured territory. his territory. you move more sure of yourself by the second and it rushes his warm and wanting.

with no real hurry, roman pulls out the chair you've picked to sit in just before you can make to do it yourself, finding himself closer than he needs to be, just some inches from your face. each breath in, sweet and tempting. the perfume he bought you...

you sit without a word, not even a thank you, and he finds himself more drawn in by the second.

it isn't until he sits himself that roman realizes you've chosen a seat at the center of the restaurant. and whether it's purposeful or not, it's damn sure fitting.

a trivial orbit of faces and voices.

"you don't take no for an answer do you?"

"when you're where i am, after a while, you stop asking and getting asked. you never even have to hear no".

its arrogant, eye roll worthy even, but you don't miss the truth in it. the pull of his brows together, lending themselves to a pure honesty. and it's hard, quelling that pull up of envy. to be so well off, so rich, never having to answer to any one. i wish, you thought. i wish

your finger trails along the fine table cloth. "i must have you so out of sorts then, how rude of me".

"it's fun", he grins. a single finger signaling someone. " 'm learning my manners again".

and there was this fidelity to his words ......everything is the best because i am the best...... a quality that spilled over into everything that he touched, spoked to, looked at, and did. it was this undeniable thing, a force, that caused such a natural hesitation in you, but also this impulse to fight. you wanted to struggle against him, war with the easy diligence of him till he folded. cracking under the weight of his hubris till large fragmented pieces ground to dust. but you would not win that battle today, no, not as waiters execute their level of precision, plate after plate set atop the table in such a meticulous manner that it seemed to be planned. a well thought scheme with the intent to impress. dish after dish, revealed, one after the other smelling more divine than the one before it.

the waiter, an adorably eager young man, falls into a spiel about the wine you can't be bothered to care about. his work of a perfect pour all for nothing. it nearly pains you. "i'll take a water please".

the waiter flattens. a curt nod as he hurries away.

"it's vintage", roman says. seemingly unaffected by your disinterest in old aged wine.

" 'm sure it is". eyeing him. the sip his lips take. "seems you've had things all planned out. what if i'd said no?"

"someone else's lucky night then. a free meal on the house".

"do you have a ready made answer to everything?".

"i am who i am. it's impossible not to". the cut of your knives into plated steaks reveals this smooth buttery finish. the meat tender against the blade and more so to the taste. and it takes everything in you not to moan or go cross eyed, not when he's watching your every move. seemingly studying and committing your eyes and lips and words to memory. no, you simply chew. sip at your water and live as quiet in your delight as possible. till of course it hits you, not as hard or sudden as one would expect, but it's more of a washing over. a stilled piecing together that quickens your pulse and frowns out the apathy on your lips.

you stare down at your plate. a short ways away from dumbfounded. "you know how i like my steak". even the way he chews is perfect. measured and steady. a luxurious sort of etiquette steeped into the make of him. but you find that his manners are selective, as he doesn't even bother to meet your eyes. low sitting and accusing. he chews as you did, but with more leisure. the slice of his knife and the clink of his fork fighting against the waiting you do in the silence. even when he works to indulge you, he abides in his own time, lets you wrestle with the trivial chatter of the room the way you did not so long ago with the abundance of his gifts.

he wipes his mouth with a cloth. a feigned unawareness about him.

"the chefs know how you like your steak".

you scoff. maybe your tenth eye roll of the night. " and the bartenders so conveniently know how i like my cocktails too".

he sips his wine easy like he would water. "they have an eye for detail, thats why they work here".

"or maybe", you start. fork an obnoxious clinking at the plate as it drops dramatic from your fingers. "just maybe it's someone else's eyes they're looking through. someone else's words they're following".

"maybe".

...so fucking goddamn frustrating... you think. eyeing the full table of food. and it's less anger and more confusion, that slow to finish fraying of nerves. these things that he does, says, that leave you emotionally inconvenienced.

"you don't know how insane it feels, night after night, trying to pick up a check for dinner and the waiter refuses your money. it feels like stealing".

he chuckles. "something you should be used to then".

"fuck you. i only steal out of necessity".

and this was it, the thing from which his curiosities where born, feverish in his fingers. an ache to flex broad and wide, to do and make till need was just a distant word laying dead at the recesses of your mind. necessities were strange, and if it became flesh and bone with legs and the will to speak it too would be a stranger to him. roman had not wanted for anything in some time, and if he felt in himself that he needed something, the readiness by which it came to him revealed only that he did not need it, but that he wanted it, in that covetous way that a man wants another mans woman. and so it became natural, that others around him would not need for anything either.

the way he's settled into the velvet of the chair becomes less leisure, leaning in slightly with a more focused determination. "what do you need?"

your smile is wry. unconvinced. "like you care".

"if you could have anything, what would it be?"

the list was endless it seemed, a question you'd asked and answered thousands of times and then thousands of times again. cars, houses, shoes, clothes, jewelry, yachts, boats. trivial and obnoxiously expensive things even, if it meant that you could feel the freedom of just being. it was an easy thing to answer, but so hard still when all the answers were far away from you, never even brushing faint at your fingertips.

and he thinks in this moment, your eyes softening, this is the most serious he's ever seen you.

"i wanna be comfortable. enough not to worry about anything".

"and why aren't you there yet?"

"i tried", a finger of yours slipping against the grip of the cutting knife. "but you stopped me".

but how could he question you? was your drive, your diligence to get what you wanted not legitimate because it was not legal? and with this, the question forms clear again, why the fuck were you here?

"a man at the top asking me why i'm all the way down here", your head shaking in this sly build of indignation. he had some nerve. "you don't see how shitty that is?"

roman feels something in him lessen. a deep pulling away that reflects in the flare that takes to your eyes. an edge that leaves the room a bit cooler than before. how could he have been so stupid and blind? judging you for the very thing that had left him in this whirl of curiosity and admiration.

" 'm not tryin to offend you".

"but here i am. offended".

he shifts, reaches the wide stretch of his palm to lay open against the table. an olive branch close enough for you to reach out and take. "let me make it up to you".

you consider him. the outstretch of his palm. fingers strong and waiting. the way his eyes settle into this mild sort of kindness that still lends itself to something not so pleasing. the warm lights amongst the crystals of hanging chandeliers casting along his face in such a way that it shadows his eyes some but still shines against his features. speaking so clearly to the deepened well of his hubris, always revealing and hiding itself in his own time. he is a sure man, wanting only what he wants, but seeks it in such a diligent way that it suffocates the things, the people that he desires. but maybe, just maybe, if you leave him wanting, challenged and needy, he would give you everything.

your finger tips move to tease at his. this faint dancing along his palm. "if you're gonna send me gifts, make sure it's things i like". touch a sly caress at his wrist. "i'm not a wine girl, and i hate seeing flowers die".

he lets your touch play along his skin. revels silent in the rush it sends, a jetting stream into his blood.

"what do you prefer?"

you slip off a ring that shines against his pinky. fitting it onto your middle one. your stare is this rapturous thing. hypnotic and breath taking, and he understands why you've probably gotten away with so much till now.

"i have a sweet tooth".

"i can work with that".

you hum into a sigh, considering still. your hand balling his own to close that reaching opened palm before you settle back into your chair. more eased now than you've been the whole night.

"i hope so for your sake".

and roman does not hesitate often, certainly never out of fear. he doesn't mind the manner of his words much, or their phrasing and the life it breathes into his expression. he doesn't suffer much to care for the thoughts of others and their own words, unless of course it somehow seeks to exist against his money, the resort or the greatness of his name. roman wasn't fearful, no, but being here with you, caution takes him all the same. like those tentative seconds where the lucky struck gambler is suspended in possibility, waiting for the dealers reveal.

his words take to a mindfulness, as if each word is brought out selectively. "has anyone ever offered, to take care of you. buy you things. take you places".

you laugh in that small uncontrollable way, when something, after so much confusion, becomes clear. because of course this is what he wants. of-fucking-course.

"some have. i always told them no".

"why?"

to think of it, even if just slightly, annoyed you. "conditions. restrictions. rules. you can't go there, you can't do this. that's not care".

"control is an acquired taste".

a grin slips into the seam of your lips. curious. "is it yours?"

his tongue peaks, a short run against his teeth, and something deep within, this buried and slow to rise feeling tightens at your core. maybe it wouldn't hurt to have a taste of wine.

his grin matches yours. "not if it ain't yours".

"out of all the woman everywhere, why me?"

"you try to steal from me, you spit on my casino floor, and you ain't missed a chance yet to tell me how you feel".

"we're into degradation i see", you joke. and it gets a laugh you think not many have experienced. it's something sincere, crinkling for some seconds the corners of his eyes. and despite the short bout of fondness that forms at hearing him laugh, he's got to be joking right? pulling your leg hard for an even bigger laugh. "i'm a thief roman".

"a very transparent thief. i don't meet people like that a lot".

it's a losing fight but still, it's hard not to push back.

"you barely know me".

"i could know you, if you let me".

"what's in it for you?"

sex, you think. when he's given you enough of his money and access, he'll ask for sex.

"your company".

---

riverside, california was not the vegas strip, and by all intents and purposes did not claim to be the notorious sin city. the breeze here was something warm and patient. a soft flowing about, satisfied only by its own directionlessness. but in a small whispered taunting way, it was unadulterated. the vegas strip was loud, this harsh numbing sort of droning that buried the more subtle, truthful noises and those skittish undercurrents in the skin that lent to fervent thoughts and ideas. the silence of riverside and the quaint rooftop air of antonella's was this exposing thing. and you'd come west to unashamedly connive your way into some money, but now you were here, unsure of the minutes, hours and even days to come, with him. sipping at coffee, and picking gentle but anxious at his diamond ring, feeling as aimless as the riverside wind.

and then, seemingly from no where, his shoes click against the cobblestone, steps slow and uniformed, a pace all his own. and as he sets down a fine spread atop the table; meats, cheeses, fruits, and small cakes, he can sense rather acutely this refusal to acknowledge him. from you, an amusing fight; one leg crossed over the other, a fidgeting in your fingers and this far away look else where, feigning indifference.

antonella's at noon - roman

he'd written as he liked to do, and yet it was a little passed two in the afternoon. the drive over to riverside lengthy and unknowing.

"you're late"

" 'm sorry?"

roman is amused but taken a back all the same. in the years of his success, lateness was not something to treat with avoidance or fear but just another trivial idea. something purely subjective. or maybe it was because things just ran on his time, started and stopped when his desires had not been met or when they'd exceeded his expectations. it was new to think that something like that was so bothersome for you.

he sits in the empty space of a double seated chair beside you. the wood fine and stripped, carved with intricate designs. his arm falling against the top. your bodies closer now than they've ever been.

"if i'm-", you shift to face him. eyes taken by the tan of his cheeks, sprinkled with freckles. lips full, and beard thick. his eyes softer than normal but still traces of an intensity to them. he's beautiful, even in his arrogance and persistence. "if i'm gonna do this. whatever this is, you have to be on time. i'm not a woman who likes to wait".

his eyes drop to the plump of your lips. existing there this thin tempting line of gloss. "yes ma'am".

and his stare lingers, a gentle taking in of the slight pout forming into the line of your lips and the soft round out of your cheeks. your eyes under the cast of the sun, more ethereal than not, but guarded some still in this impatient game of waiting for something that will quell that burden of unknowing. the small tells of your anxiety live in the way you play aimlessly at that ring you took from him, or rather the ring he let you take. even with your demands that fight against his own desires and your quick wits and your curt looks and your own bouts of teasing, you still hesitate for fear of the feelings that come with great disappointment. he wonders now if his words for you are not enough, and that though it had been enough for mostly everyone, you are not them. you are new and different and he'd have to treat you as such.

roman cuts a piece of cake easy, and on a fork it waits for you to indulge in it.

"taste this", he gives, handing you the fork.

"what is it?"

"panettone". his voice deep and delicate about the shape of the vowels, taking on a slight accent in reverence of the treat. italian?, you wonder.

the cake is buttery and sweet, a taste of fruit with each pass it takes over your tongue and theres something there as you sit with the taste of it that tells you that it's homemade. its a perfect mixture of everything, as if the baker had made it a thousand times, and then a thousand times more.

he reaches to pick off a piece of fruit with a slim pick, sleeves loose and revealing the beginnings of what you think is a full arm of connected tattoos. you wonder how far they travel, and where they possibly might end.

the strength of espresso wafts against the flow of a simple breeze as he takes to refilling the teeny size of your cup and then a splash of his own to taste.

he sighs, satisfied at the warmth of it. "you like it?".

"mhmm", you give. a sincerity lining your lips as you give him a small smile. it's something new, relaxed. an earnestness lacking that natural wary look you wear when you look at him. "you're taking my words to heart. i like a man who listens".

"i aim to please".

you slip the ring back onto your finger, less fidgety with it now. an easy settling of the tensity in your shoulders that allows your body to rest closer to him. facing inward so that the cross of your leg touches his. and it's this innocent, dainty step towards intimacy. where the gentle quiet of the day fills the air with a more tender possibility. guards are fallen away, more than before if anything, and your eyes shimmer warm and a little more accepting. i'll try, you think to your self, to believe him even if only for a moment. i'll indulge him.

"you like that ring?", he asks. staring at the way it shines against your finger.

at the mention of it, you twist the band about your finger.

"my mother thought the best thing a woman could do for herself was have jewelry. it's the only thing that doesn't disappoint". nostalgia a fine thread in your words. remembering the woman that taught you everything. and he sees the soft way your cheeks turn up. feels a need to keep them that way, but even more so when you look at him. "it's a little big, but it goes with my earrings".

my...my earrings. claiming fully the things that he'd gifted you.

his longer, stronger fingers reach for yours, for the ring, seemingly possessed by memory. and his touch is a light caress. featherweight and reverential. a shiver strums your skin there. teeming with the want for a heated relief found only in another pass of his finger, till it folds, along with the others, his over yours, to lock in an embrace.

"i had it made ten years ago", he tells you. "about a month after the resort opened. a gift to myself".

his thumb dances with a sweet brushing along your skin, with nothing particularly amorous, but there is comfort here, in your touch, a stranger. the way skin passes slow and steady to feel the other, lax and patient.

"it's still beautiful", your hand dropping to your lap, locked with his still, and the pull brings him just that much closer. a comfortable leaning in that gives way to him taking in more readily the heady sweetness of your perfume. his eyes and his mouth something like a foot away, but feeling so very close, so much so that it steals breaths. kickstarts that harsh beating in your blood, a drumming pulse in your fingers. you wonder if he feels it.

"it doesn't disappoint".

you smile. interested in him. "how old were you then?"

"28. you?"

you can see him at 28. untainted by the burning pace of vegas. his eyes ever intense but in them more of a smolder. his hair longer, with no flecks of grey. more unsure and less persistent. grasping at things that come to him so easily now.

"24".

and he'd love to meet 24 you. maybe not as quick witted but clever still. fast in your schemes with a maybe not so predictable temper. but still, a covetous touch to the things you wanted. needed.

"causing trouble where?", he chuckles.

"new york".

he looks at the ring. loose on your finger.

"ill have the ring resized to fit".

you shake your head. unsure. "it's something special. i don't wanna take that from you".

"you don't ask and you don't say thank you. if i give it, it's yours. simple".

he is as serious now as the day you first met him, and beyond all of your own doubting, there's this burden to believe him. the quiet fervor of his words and his touch, the warm glow of him amongst the day light and the unwavering hold his eyes take to yours. and his thumb runs a simple caress over where your pulse quickens harsh at the inside of your wrist, from surprise and need. a soft lulling that only seems to stoke the flame of a slow but sure to rise desire. it's yours, words promising and unfazed by the endless unknowns of tomorrow. so much so that he proves it, slips an envelope from his pocket till it finds its way into your hand.

and the envelope is mere trash compared to whats inside. a sleek black card, engraved with his own name.

your fingers slip at it. failing somewhat to hide the growing excitement. but there is disbelief here also, coming alive quick but dying quicker the more you feel the fixed weight of his decision, heavy in his eyes and warm at his touch. his intensity is a power all on its own, working well to lull you in. to subdue. a twinge at your core tells you that you are not immune. "is there a limit?"

"why would there be?"

you chuckle. "you're serious?"

"dead serious".

there's that twinge again, lingering hot and teasing. scares you away from his eyes and the tender hold of his touch, but he doesn't falter, even when your fingers leave the tangle of his. and then, caution breaks against the luxurious sort of excitement teeming quick, tightens into your fingers so that the card feels heavy. too fine to hold in your hands. but still, he remains, sitting with an endless patience, sure that he will win you over fully. if not today then soon.

the moment still seems too good to be true for you.

you sigh. "this all isn't just some round about way of trying to fuck me is it?"

but he doesn't hesitate. amused even.

"that only happens if you want it to sweetheart".

and it takes courage not to imagine it. the details of a daydream where his lips slip against your skin, hands strong and leading as they push and prod to his will, till you're just how he wants you, playing in these fast to leave flashes in your minds eyes. you think though, under his heavy gaze, that it's something to wonder about when he's not this close and determined to commit your every expression to memory. so you steel your face, fingers grabbing his cup to sip at his espresso, the curiosity of your daydreams attempting with a desperate sort of vigor to run away from you. they barely succeed.

with roman, you were in for something interesting.

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