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tonycries · 1 month

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Bad Boys Bring Roses - G.S.

Synopsis. You’ve never dealt with the yakuza - not once. So why is the future head of the Gojo clan suddenly coming up to you, demanding that you marry him for 30 days?

Pairing. Yakuza boss! Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, yakuza! au, fake marriage, annoyances to lovers, elders suck, mentioned k*lling (not reader or Satoru), Satoru is INSANE and SO down bad, one bed trope, praise, biting, oral (fem receiving), fíngering, unprotected, créampie, spitting, overstim, flower language, kníves, bit dark, HAPPY ENDING, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 9.1k (whoopsies)

A/N. I just HAD to get this out of my mind like I wanna write an entire book series on this. Spent too long researching rose language as well so see if y’all catch that hehe.

You thought the wedding invitation was a joke when it had arrived - a delicate, lacey little card that you’ve probably read over a million times by now. It had been stuffed haphazardly into your mailbox, along with a ridiculously large bouquet of purple roses. Seemingly inconspicuous when you first tore into the thick envelope, wondering which one of your friends was getting married now.

And it was - that is, until you saw your name at the very top - right where the blushing bride’s was supposed to be.

We hereby formally invite you to the marriage of…

What?

No return address. No date. No groom’s name either. Only yours, written in beautiful, golden writing - inviting you to your own wedding, exactly a week from now.

You remember perfectly the way you’d flipped it over and over in your hands, the gears turning in your head as you tried to crack down on the motive behind this invitation. A threat? A joke? Texting all of your friends about what a cute prank that was - only to get a shared confused reaction, and a few “April Fool’s has already passed, y’know.”

Hell, you’d even cornered the mailman, desperate to get to the bottom of this. But that wasn’t particularly helpful when he was only able to shake his head in protest, pale as a sheet, and trembling ever-so-slightly as he sped away from you. Weird.

Without a clue as to who sent the letter, or even a follow-up in the days after, you stuffed the invitation somewhere deep in the back of your closet and handed the bouquet to your mother. Not bothering to tell your parents where it was from - because who’d worry over a stupid prank like this? It was probably one of the kids from down the street that’d gotten their grubby lil’ hands on a printer.

You, however, had more important things to focus on - like trying to help your father revive his failing diner. It was a family business, a quaint, hearty little shop. One that was quickly, and dangerously, losing both customers and employees with the brand new fast food place that’d popped up right across the street.

Which is why you found yourself here - working overtime on a Saturday night, looking over the empty chairs and stacks of boxes from behind the counter. Whatever, it was only a few weeks until relocation anyway.

You heave out a sigh, eyes flitting to the clock beside you - 11:21pm.

Nine minutes more, you drum your fingers in boredom, maybe you should just close up early. Because sure as hell no one else was-

“Oh? Still open?”

“Ah- Uh, yes, welcome!” Jolting out of your reverie, you stand up ramrod straight, taking in the customer standing at the door. He wasn’t one of the regulars - no, you think you’d remember if he was. Cloudy white hair, piercing blue eyes that twinkle from above his shades, even in the dim light of the diner. He was so very tall, taking up almost all of the doorframe, only getting more and more imposing as he walks up to you in quick, long strides. Magnetizing.

And if you dared let your eyes wonder, you caught a few tattoos peeking out from his unfairly snug button-up, clashing with its flashy blue color. Dragons? Trees? Or were they flowers - roses?

“Roses.” the man in front of you answers your unspoken question, voice so very deep, and melodic - tinged with something playful in it that you wouldn’t have expected at first glance. At your raised brow he continues with a wink, “Could tell ya were checkin’ me out, sweetheart.”

“F-forgive my rudeness, sir.” you sputter, face burning. You look away from the way his muscled ripple as he crosses his arms, immediately turning to fumble with the menus, “Please take a seat and I’ll be there with you shortly.”

You’d expected him to take up a booth, or maybe head towards one of the good tables around the corner. What you did not expect was for him to plop down on the stool right in front of you, flashing you a playful grin before humming, “S’alright, m’just waitin’ for someone.”

Oh. Well, it made sense that someone like him would be taken. Swallowing, you hand over the menu, before giving him a close-lipped smile, “A lover?”

Resting his head on his palms, not bothering to even glance at the list of dishes before him. “My fiancée.”

“Congratulations, Mr…”

“Gojo Satoru.” he tilts his head, looking way too happy with himself. “Please, call me Satoru.”

You nod softly, picking up your pen and notepad to get this conversation over with - and maybe to also avoid his heavy stare that made something hot and uncomfortable coil in your stomach. “Right, Mr-” at his disappointed whine, “Satoru. Congratulations, must be one heck of a thing to plan.”

“Oh I’m having fun with the wedding planning.” He waves off your words with a chuckle, missing - or pointedly ignoring - the way you were waiting for his order. “How’s it going for you?”

What?

You narrow your eyes at the way Satoru was batting those long lashes up at you, deceivingly innocent and waiting for your answer. “I’m sorry- Me? Did you mean with the diner relocation plans or-”

“No no no.” he laughs, loud and boisterous. And usually you’d have a thing or two to say at someone interrupting you if you weren’t so mesmerized by that little dimple at the corner of his grin. One that moves as he plows on, “M’asking how wedding planning is going for you, wifey~”

There’s a beat of silence. One. Two. With you gaping at the pure audacity as Satoru quiets down to little titters, seemingly studying your reaction in amusement. Which slowly, but surely, drains from his face as you grit out a sharp, “I’m gonna have to ask you to leave, sir. We’re very busy and don’t have time to entertain your pick-up lines.”

Those widened blue eyes sweep the painfully empty diner, letting out a low whisper. “I can see that.” you let out a strangled noise of embarrassment at that. “But you’re really gonna ask your husband to leave?”

Huffing in frustration, “I don’t have a husband.”

“...you do.”

“I don’t.”

“You do.”

“I don’t. And who the fuck are you to tell me I do?”

“What?!” Satoru jumps out of his seat in shock, fast enough that the stool clatters to the floor with a deafening clang! Hands slamming on the counter as he leans over it - so close that you could feel his minty breath fanning your face with each hurried, shrill word that tumbles out of his lips. “What do you mean you don’t have a- I’m gonna kill those fuckin’- After I bought Canva premium just to make that invitation? Did the flowers come at least?”

And while Satoru is panicking, words spilling out of his mouth a mile a minute - only one of those rings in your mind - invitation.

“You.” you hiss, barely audible over meltdown in front of you. Pointing a finger accusingly, “You’re the one behind that prank with the dumbass roses.”

That seems to snap Satoru out of his dramatic monologue - and you’re glad it did. Because he looks up to meet your glare, “Hey! You didn’t like the roses?”

And for the first time, you see Satoru more serious than he’d been ever since stepping into this diner. Eyes somewhere behind you, ablaze and almost…frightening. “Didn’t you ask him?”

You whirl around to see your father, who’d apparently rushed downstairs at the commotion. Baseball bat to fight off the intruder hanging in midair as he stands frozen, taking in the scene before him - but more importantly, that man in front of him. “You.”

---

And, well, it’s not everyday that you’re having late night tea with your parents and one of your father’s…business associates. Even rarer when said business associate is…you gulp, praying to whoever’s above that this is all some sick dream you’ll wake up any second from.

“So, let me get this straight…” you sigh, pinching your nose in frustration. It’s been an hour or two of trying to understand whatever this was. Giving a stern look at the two men squirming across from you in the booth. “My father was conned by one of your-” you gesture your head at Satoru, which only makes his smirk grow, “-men to take a loan from your um-”

“Family, yakuza. Anything goes.” he supplies helpfully.

You wave him off, trying as quickly as possible to brush off the ‘yakuza’ bit that makes your stomach lurch. “And now he owes you a favor of…what exactly?”

Satoru leans across the table, t-shirt opening tantalizingly. Voice dropping to an almost-pleading murmur, “Look, I just need you to pretend to be my doting, loving, charming, gorgeous-” backtracking at your withering glare, “...Anyway. I just need a fake wife for a few months, convince my family to get off my back about arranged marriage n’ carrying the Gojo legacy. Then bam! you stomp all over my heart, we divorce and I’m too heartbroken to ever get married again. Easy.”

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

You bet Satoru’s disappointed groan echoed across all 23 words of Tokyo, because it was definitely ringing in your ears amongst whirlwind thoughts of marriage? To a yakuza? Completely, and utterly ridiculous. And from his talks of “carrying the family name” it seemed like he was some sort of future head as well. Though, he definitely wasn’t acting like it right now.

“Alright. Plan B, then.”

Oh? You couldn’t help but think that maybe he wasn’t that much of a manchild as sits up from where he’d been splayed all over the table in tragedy. Lacing his fingers together before turning to your father, continuing in a more diplomatic tone, “But I want the cash you took. In full. Now. Gonna hafta disguise my best friend as my wife, n’ dresses for a six foot man aren’t cheap.”

Your mother looked like she could faint right then and there. Choking out a noise of surprise, “B-but we’ve deposited it all for the relocation- Please, can’t we pay any other-”

At the firm shake of his head, you stammer, “Now? Aren’t you some yakuza nepo baby, can’t you just ask your parents for money?”

“No.” Satoru chuckles, in a tone which told you that he probably could but might just lose his head for it. Only further supported as he muses, “Not unless I want a finger cut off for dealin’ money on the side. Seriously, sweetheart, why did you think I sent you the invitation last week?”

“Take me instead.” you father cries, trying to negotiate above Satoru’s half-joking mutters of “Ugh, I’m not into ol’ men dumb enough to sign yakuza contracts.”

It was all too much. You couldn’t take out the relocation deposit - it was a new start, possibly the only thing to save your family. Nor do you have enough in savings to pay back the loan. And if Satoru’s warning was anything to listen to, then you knew that dealing with the yakuza could be dangerous. Why you? Why you? Why you?

“Fine.”

The moment that word leaves your lips, it’s like the whole world freezes. Everyone in the room - including yourself - unsure of whether they heard you right. “I’ll do it.” you clarify, voice hesitant but firm. Eyeing the way Satoru’s eyes begin to sparkle, the beginnings of a smile curling his lips. Raising a finger to shush your father’s protests, “But for a month, until we leave this place. After that m’going with my family and you’re never to contact us ever again. Deal?”

And oh Satoru seemed over the moon, reaching out to grasp your hand in a handshake - so warm, and softer than you’d imagined. “Swear on m’life, wifey. You can kill me if not.”

He was so intimidating - and intimidatingly exhilarating.

Only an hour more of arguing and a quick phone call later, men - yakuza, you assume - were flooding your family’s little diner. All tattooed and burly, looking somewhat comical as they carried your few packed-up suitcases outside. Well, at least they stayed for a late dinner.

And ended up being witnesses to a very rushed, very rushed signing of marriage agreements. Evidence to really show up your alleged marriage. It barely even lasted a few minutes before, well, that was that - you were married, to the son of a yakuza head.

You say a quick goodbye to your teary parents, soothing them with promises of “I’ll be back before you know it. One month. That’s all.”

“And don’t worry about a thing,” Satoru sing-songs, coming up behind you. “If there’s anyone she’s safe with, it’s me.”

“You better keep your mitts off of my baby.” your father warns, raising the baseball bat still clutched in his hand menacingly.

“I won’t lay a hand on her, father-in-law. And anyone that even thinks about it…” he cackles, breath hot against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. “I’ll kill.”

Prancing off to hold the door of that shiny black Mercedes parked outside open for you. “Ladies first.”

With another quick hug to your parents, you hastily make your way inside. Feeling extremely out of place amongst the overly luxurious interior in your slightly-stained work uniform. God, the covers on these cushions themselves probably cost more than your house.

“Like the car? I can buy you one. Or four, as a wedding gift.” Satoru grins.

Oh, right. You weren’t in here alone - you were here with your new…husband. The word felt so strange to even wrap your head around, instead you turn to meet his easy smile. Clenching your jaw as you grit out, “So how do we act m-married?”

You swear he brightens up impossibly, scooting closer to you on the seat. Heart lurching as he raises his eyes to meet yours, dizzy with the heat of his proximity, he promptly pulls out his Notes app.

“Well, you see. I forgot to send this with the invitation so you better memorize this before we get home.” flashing you a long, long list of likes and dislikes, “Here’s my favorite color and my favorite Digimon and-”

That car ride could not have been longer. Because in addition to arguing with Satoru about who the best Digimon was, you had to fill out your own version of his overly extensive list. “So we can be foolproof.” he’d whined. And you’d been so engrossed in the process that you barely noticed the looming estate out the window.

“We’re here, young master and madam Gojo.”

It took a second to register that the driver was talking to you as well as Satoru, immediately pushing your face against the window to take in the scenic site before you. Heavy wooden doors - probably taller than an average house - opening to reveal sprawling gardens. Koi ponds and rose bushes lining a pathway that led to a traditional Japanese house - all power and glory. You half wondered whether you were still in Tokyo.

“Home sweet home.” Satoru grunts. “Such a beautiful hell, huh?”

Your home, for the next month. At least.

And if you had any doubt that Satoru was in fact the future yakuza head, that all went out the window at the welcome you got. Men lining the wooden hallway, bowing at the waist while your all-new husband wraps a hand around your shoulders, pointing out the various rooms and ornaments as he led you in.

“-and this is going to be our room.” he brings you in front of a large tatami room, one the size of your entire diner.

“Ours.” you repeat. Walking unhurriedly to the king-sized bed in the middle - the only bed. Heart pounding as you take it all in.

“Ours.” Satoru echoes, happily. And if he was any bit as affected as you are, then he doesn’t show it, instead pulling out a blue yukata from the closet, a golden Gojo emblem stamped on the back. Made with such a pretty, delicate fabric that it made you shiver to think how much it cost. “Now, I had these made jus’ for you last week. You can give me a lil’ fashion show tomorrow, so make sure you get some rest, wifey.”

It’s only when he says the word “rest” that you realize exactly how tired you are. Your long shift and the entirety of this having your eyes feeling heavier than usual.

“Um…” you start, risking a glance at the bed.

Satoru jolts, “Ah- don’t worry, sweetheart. You take the bed.” beginning to saunter outside to meet his team. “Got some work, so I’ll be sleeping in my office. Dream of me~”

And, really, you almost felt bad splaying yourself out on the crisp navy sheets. Sinking into the heady smell of fabric softener, and something so so Satoru. Addictive. Like an expensive cologne that made your head spin, one that wafted through your mind as you dreamt of summer weddings, and blue, blue skies.

“Ichiji.”

“Yes, young master.”

“See to it that the madam is safe. Anyone try anything funny and you bring them back alive. I wanna be the one to play with them, okay~?”

“Of course, young master.”

---

Admittedly, you probably have the best sleep of your life at the Gojo estate- or, it would’ve been if your husband didn’t burst in every morning at 7am. Handing you a ridiculously big bouquet of white roses, straight from the garden, before dragging you outside.

Milling about the estate, Satoru was never too far behind, chattering away. Letting you hold onto his strong arm crossing the bridges, occasionally having you show up to yakuza meetings as his plus one. Relishing in the rumors spreading all through the yakuza syndicates in Tokyo. Gojo Satoru, and the commoner wife he’d do anything for.

Weirdly enough, some strange little part of you thinks he puts in a lot more work than necessary for some pretend relationship…

“I think that stupid plan is really working, y’know.” you muse to him after a few days of this. Dipping your fingers into one of your favorite koi ponds with a nod at the figures watching you from a distance - Gojo clan elders, you assume. “Those old coots hate being within a five mile radius of me.”

Satoru huffs out a laugh, “That so? S’probably the method acting then, huh? Taking good care of me, wifey?” he wiggles his eyebrows, nudging you from where he was holding an umbrella beside you.

Furrowing your brows mockingly, “S’funny for you to say, they don’t even look at me. But they follow me around everywhere.”

“Do they annoy you, must I do my duty as a husband and gouge their eyes out?”

He…didn’t sound like he was joking.

Rolling your eyes, you pointedly ignoring the way your heart lurches at the word “husband.” Still so jumpy at the idea. “Speaking of, your parents give up the marriage proposals, yet?”

At this, Satoru clenches his jaw. “Still nagging, but they’re finally considering you as my actual bride rather than some hijink.” he spits out, seemingly recalling whatever conversation they’d had before. “And they want to have some family ‘dinner’, but it’s going to be awful and you don’t-”

“Let’s go.” you interrupt, nodding determinedly. “The realer this marriage seems, the faster we can divorce, no?”

He blinks at you slowly, “That’s…true. For the divorce, then?”

“For the divorce.”

And, well, that was settled - you were to meet your new in-laws. The ever-elusive heads of the Gojo clan. Also one of the most powerful yakuza in all of Japan, but, semantics really.

You spend the evening cooped up with Satoru in the library, poring over the bloody history of the yakuza - with the Gojo’s heading them all. The only time he actually leaves your side is a few hours before the dinner.

“For you.” he’d murmured, lips ghosting your ear, slipping something cold onto your finger. You look down to see one of the most beautiful rings you’ve ever seen - gold, with delicate blue and white diamonds encrusting it, cut in the shape of roses. “Can’t be married without a wedding ring, huh? Think of it as a good luck charm for tonight.”

And with that he’s swept away in a flurry of bodyguards and ruffled men, and you’re left standing there all alone. Cheeks burning, wondering how the hell he knew your perfect fit.

You worry longer about the dinner than you spend actually preparing for it. Though, that’s probably because of the group of stylists that come into your room to help you dress. Wordlessly fussing around you despite your weak attempts at conversation, eyes averted. Almost like they were…scared of you.

But there wasn’t much time to think of that - not when you’re being marched off in the direction of what you remember Satoru had called the family dining room. “More like a fuckin’ meeting room for those hardasses.” he’d snarked.

The moment you step in, all eyes turn to you - the only ones you recognize being Satoru’s, who immediately stands with a smile. “Ah, wifey! Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.” pulling you into a tight hug. His voice drops into a low, raspy murmur in your ear, “Ya look fuckin’ gorgeous in my colors, y’know.”

Traitorously, jolts of electricity run down your spine. Especially at how fucking gorgeous he looked in traditional wear. Whispering back, “Playing up the doting husband bit, huh?”

“Only for you.”

Pulling away, you drink in his dangerously handsome state. Hair so effortlessly styled, tattoos winking at you from just above his yukata - blue, to match yours. So pretty.

Stammering out, “Corny.”

“Only for-”

“Now that the girl is finally here, may we begin with dinner?” A stained voice sounds from behind Satoru, old and tinged with a tone that years of customer service told you did not bode well. Craning your head, you look over his broad shoulders, meeting the eyes of several disapproving elders.

Shit. Some of the most dangerous people in this country right now.

Gathered here - for you.

Automatically, you knew which ones were his parents - painfully upright, and hauntingly beautiful in a cold, calculated way. Sat right at the head of the long table. With a jolt, you realize that you two are seated right opposite them.

“So.” his mother starts, as you take your seat with a bow. Satoru doesn’t waste any time on niceties, plopping down right next to you, scooting closer than necessary. “Congratulations on the…wedding, my son.”

My son. You ignore the way both parents pointedly avoided looking at you. Your husband, however, does not. “What~ Not gonna wish my dear wife as well?”

It’s a silent staredown - one that has the entire room on edge. You don’t realize that you’re clenching your fists in tension until Satoru untangles them, slipping his larger hands into yours. Gaze still alarmingly intense and locked on the other side of the table.

He wins.

“Congratulations. Let us begin now.”

You breathe out a sigh of relief, the tension only slightly broken as butlers stream into the room, carrying decadent trays of food. Well, at least the food might make up for how appalling this dinner is going to be.

It’s only 15 minutes in that you realize how very, horribly wrong you are - because the elders of the Gojo estate really don’t hold back, do they? Thank God you memorized every part of that stupid likes and dislikes list.

Besides picking apart every aspect of your relationship that they could manage to squeeze out of you between the appetizer and the main course, the main scrutiny tonight seems to be you. But in that icy, subtle way that has Satoru��s jaw clenching tighter each second.

Lips curling, Gojo senior eyes you over his wine glass. “So, dear,” voice dripping with underlying venom despite the pet name. “Is it true our Satoru missed an esteemed marriage meeting with the Zenin group to ambush you at some rundown old diner?”

You fight to keep the smile plastered onto your face, painful and cracking under the pressure. A hand squeezing under the table to stop Satoru from opening his mouth to retort, you answer instead, “Well, ambushed wouldn’t be the word. You could say we fell in love over the counter - at my family’s diner.”

“A waitress, she said?”

“Now we know why it was this rushed. Probably pregnant.”

“The scandal. How far the Gojo name has fallen.”

The few stifled gasps from the other end of the table are so dramatic that you could almost laugh. But you don’t. Breath hitching as Mrs. Gojo chuckles, “Marrying the daughter of a lowly diner owner? How... quaint.”

“Mother, be quiet or-”

“What?” she throws her hands in exasperation. “Can’t I say anything around here. Honestly, Satoru, I’m just trying to make conversation with your new wife.”

Before either you or Satoru can react, his father speaks up, apparently not done with the interrogation. “You understand that we’re just worried, right, dear? Especially with marrying into prestigious families, of course.” The emphasis on “prestigious” is not lost on you.” And it drives you insane.

Steeling yourself, you train your eyes on the untouched food below you. “I understand.”

Plowing on as if trying to infuriate you, “And you understand that this position is dangerous? You’ll be targeted.”

“I understand.”

“Do you? Don’t be swept up in our Satoru’s charm and wealth, dear, my son just wants a way out of duty.” tone dripping with disdain, Satoru’s grip becoming tighter and tighter on yours. “The Gojo syndicate owns half of this city, we could bulldoze over that little diner of yours with only one phone call”

“My wife and I are leav-”

“I said I fuckin’ understand.” Your words hang in the air like a foul stench, and you raise your head to glare. If looks could kill, all the elders in this room would be six feet under and you’d be dancing on their graves already. “Neither me, nor my husband would ever let that happen because he knows a thing or two about respect, unlike you.” Lacing your fingers tighter with Satoru’s. “So shove your mighty family up your wrinkly asses. I don’t give a flying shit.”

Eyes wide, jaws dropped, the old couple opposite you finally seems stunned into silence. And if it was any other situation you could’ve almost laughed at how similar they looked to Satoru when he found out you thought his proposal was a prank.

His father adjusts his glasses. “Perhaps that is so.”

Ah, if only the rest of the table would be quietened just as easily.

“Not only is she a slut she’s a-”

Thud!

It all happens so fast you’re not even sure if your eyes are playing tricks on you. Because in a split-second, the knife that was at your side is suddenly embedded, deep into the wooden table - barely even an inch away from the elder that had spoken up.

“You’re lucky I’m matching with my wife n’ didn’t want to dirty this new yukata.” a voice sounds from your side. Melodic and so so eerie that you don’t realize for a second that it’s Satoru - your Satoru.

He loops an arm under your legs as he stands up. Easily maneuvering you into a princess carry, forcing you to cling onto his robes for dear life as your feet dangle from the floor. You look up - maybe to snap at Satoru to put you down - only for the words to die in your throat at how absolutely fucking feral your husband looked. Eyes wide, aura menacing. A grin gracing his features, not the familiar one which had your heart racing, no - something so dangerous and cold.

“Now,” he hums. Turning his back to the room, gaze still locked with the shocked heads inside, “My lovely wife and I will be retiring. Won’t you all say goodnight to your future madam?”

You don’t know what shocks you more - the way everyone in that room mumbles out a disdainful little “Goodnight, ma’am.”, or the way Satoru cackles as he carries you to your shared bedroom. Laying you gently on the mattress with a quiet, “Be right back, sweetheart.”

What the fuck happened?

He could’ve killed that man. And looked like he wanted to.

Your brain yells at you - run away run away run away- But you weren’t…scared? In fact, you don’t think you’ve ever been less fearful in your entire life. Especially not when Satoru stumbles back into the room, clearly rushing. Something warm spreading in your chest at the trays of food in his hands.

“Dinner’s better without a bunch of fossils on my kill list.” he grins. Settling right next to you on the bed, setting out the dinner he’d brought for you. And, well, you didn’t doubt that they really were on his kill list.

“Hey, wifey.” Satoru speaks up after a few moments of silence, satisfied with the food laid in front of you. “M’sorry for putting you through that. No more family dinners from now.”

You inch closer to lay your head on his sculpted shoulder, a hand bringing up the food to his pretty lips. He smelled so good, faintly like pine, and clouds. It made you so dizzy. “Eat, Satoru.”

That’s all which is said, because maybe that’s all that was needed. And for a second there, you almost forget that this is all pretend.

---

“Hey, uh- mister. You alright?” you call out, voice barely audible over the rain.

The sullen figure didn’t react at first, soaked through and eyes trained on the ground. Unmoving, even when you hesitantly drew closer, umbrella quivering in your hands.

You should turn around - walk away like everyone else on the sidewalk was doing. But no, something about the way he sat alone, stoic to the storm around him made you inch closer. “Here.” you hold out your umbrella. “S’our diner’s, but you look like you could use this more than I do.”

He jolts, as if hearing you for the first time. A flash of blue, so quick you almost think you miss it. Still not raising his head fully, the man’s snowy hair tousles as he jerkily closes around the handle. Pretty. And so so sad.

“It’ll be alright.” you nod.

And with that, you turn, running back in the rain to the haven of the diner, where your father was waiting impatiently - he’d just bought the boxes to start packing up for relocation. Fingers still burning ever-so-slightly where his hand had brushed against yours. How strange, you wondered his name.

---

Satoru stayed true to his word over the weeks that followed. His parents seemed well and fully intent on avoiding you. And, well, other than a few disdainful remarks, the elders mostly scurried away in fear at your very sight.

The only thing that made your skin prickle was that the housekeepers had a penchant for peeping in on the two of you. Increasingly following you - they always did, but now…honestly, it was a bit disconcerting.

But other than that, it was almost…peaceful. You wake up every morning to a large bouquet of burgundy roses at your bedside table - and a husband. Because Satoru had taken to sleeping on the little couch at the corner of your room every night - saying something about not wanting to rouse suspicion because if he actually had a wife he’d be “taking her to bed every night”. Somehow, you didn’t doubt it.

“Funny how it’s getting close to a month of being married, but you haven’t even kissed me yet.” you deadpan. Looking down at where he was resting his head in your lap, sprawled across the soft grass in the garden.

Something else also happened - something different.

Because Satoru was a bit touchier, a bit closer. Like right now, preening into your fingers carding through his soft hair. “Oh~? Why, wanna take me to bed, wifey?”

“You wish.”

“Maybe I do.”

Your hands still, pulse racing as your eyes bore into Satoru’s, trying to figure out what sort of bad joke this was. Subconsciously, you find yourself leaning down closer - too closer. Close enough that you could count every shade of blue in his hungry gaze. But by the grace of whoever was above-

“Young master, please excuse the intrusion but you have-”

Sitting up abruptly, addressing the newcomer in a stone-cold tone. “How many fuckin’ times have I not told you to never bother me when I’m with my wife?”

The servant bows apologetically, sputtering out apologies as you move to get up. Flashing a smirk at Satoru’s dramatic pout, “I have to catch up on some reading anyway. See ya, Satoru.”

“Noo~ my sweetheart don’t leave me~”

You stifle a laugh at his little tantrum, so different from when he was serious. He was so….dizzying. “You’ll be okay, Satoru.” Glancing up nervously to meet the servant’s intense stare, studying the scene before him, how different his master was. “I’ll be at the library now.”

And Satoru notices - of course, he does. He sees that tiny flash of concern in your eyes. One that you might not have noticed yourself. He lowers his voice as you walk away, so you don’t hear him speaking behind you. Words dripping with a similar venom he always heard from his parents, “Now, tell me who you’re spying for. Names, first and last.”

Satoru doesn’t join you in the library that day, the first time in weeks. And you find yourself missing him more than you should. It’s dark out by the time you’re raising your head from the books, joints aching from poring over them for hours. The house seems a lot quieter. Somewhat bigger.

Something was wrong. Something was wrong. Something was wrong.

Scratching the back of your head, you wander through the wooden hallways to your bedroom - wondering what was amiss. Your feet take you there as if on autopilot, thankful for Satoru’s meticulous tours.

“Hey,” you smile softly at a servant making your bed, “Where are-”

Your question dies in your throat at the way she yelps at your words, hurrying down the corridor with a jerky bow. Weird. Leaving you all alone, and confused, muttering to yourself, it’s only then that you notice the flash of red by your bedside table.

Not a bouquet. Only a single, red rose - a note tied around the stem, something you’d never gotten before.

“The marriage proposals have been revoked, your contract is fulfilled, my ex-wife.”

Oh, reading that hurt more than it should’ve. You should be happy at being free, a few days earlier than expected at that - but it was over - just like that. You didn’t want to leave him. You didn’t want to leave him.You didn’t want to leave him.

Were you going insane?

Clutching the flower like a lifeline, heaving out a sigh, “Maybe Satoru knows…”

“Thinking of me?”

Startled, you whirl behind to face your husband. In the dim-lighting, making out the stoney expression on his face, eyes wide and a little duller than they had been earlier today.

“Satoru?”

His eyes light up at the mere sound of your voice - then you’re engulfed in him. Wrapping you in his arms, bowing his body into yours, so tight that it almost hurts. But you let him, fisting the fresh yukata in your hands - and that’s when you realize, he’s changed his robes since this morning. “Are you okay?” you whisper into his shoulder. Drinking in the smell of his cologne, and something faintly metallic.

Every cell in your body is screaming at you to take the opportunity - to run away from this yakuza and his slaughter and whatever this was. But how could you? Staying rooted to the spot, not even a speck of fear.

Satoru heaves out a heavy breath, tickling the hairs at your nape as he pulls you impossibly closer. “Those nosy elders won’t be bothering you anymore, sweetheart. You’re free to go.”

A shudder runs down your spine at his words, and you didn’t want to think too hard about what they meant. Instead, you guide him to your bed - and, surprisingly, he allows you to. Letting the two of you sink into the plush mattress. With Satoru still in your arms. He repeats, “You’re free to go.”

Run away. Run away. Run away-

There it was again - that strained little manta. You stare right into his eyes, voice thick at the sinking feeling in your stomach. “My 30 days aren’t over yet.”

“Leave. Please.” he grunts into the crook of your neck, like your hands drawing patterns down his back had broken some dam. “M’not a good man.”

You press your lips to his forehead, searing and a desperate attempt to soothe the man. “I think I’ll be the judge of that.”

“I’m yakuza, sweetheart. Doomed to follow my parents here.” he mutters, strained and voice more unsure than you’ve ever heard. And once he started, it was like Satoru just couldn’t stop, rambling into your skin, “I hate it here, and you should, too. All these fuckin-”

“So go with me instead.”

“What if-”

“Toru.‘ you cut off his words, slurring and spilling out of his mouth. Gently, you pry him away from his little haven, reeling back to take a good look at the face he’s been hiding for so long. Hair mussed, curtaining his whirling eyes - all disheveled and vulnerable where he was once so suave.

Your eyes bore into his, unwavering. “It’ll be alright, Toru.”

And then he’s kissing you - and you’re kissing him. Only when his lips meet yours, soft, and so so sweet, do you realize that this is everything you ever want right now - possibly these past few weeks. “Y’can kill me if you don’ want his.” he mutters into your open mouth.

It’s so desperate - a messy clash of teeth and saliva, Satoru was drinking you in like you were the last drop of water on Earth. He tasted so sweet, like candy almost, and the gentle caress of a lover. You were addicted like you could do this forever and ever and-

And then he’s pulling away. A disappointed little whine leaves you involuntarily as he parts, delicate strings of saliva snapping in the space between you two. Satoru’s mouth drops into a soft oh! at the noise, surging forward minutely like he was about to kiss you senseless again. Only to halt with a pained grunt, just a hair’s breadth from your lips.

“M’sorry.” Claiming your lips once again, like a man possessed. Drinking in your breathless gasps. Like he never wanted to let go. “F-fuck, sweetheart. Y’don’t know how crazy you drive me.” he pants.

“Why did you pick me?” you blurt out, a question that had been nagging at the back of your mind every time Satoru slipped his hand in yours, introducing you as his loving wife. “Was it just the debt?”

He’s kissing your pulse now, canines hovering over the erratic little cadence. Breathing you in like you were intoxicating. “No.” he’s licking a long, languid stripe up your neck. Pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses down every inch of skin he could reach.

“Then why?” your words come out in almost an embarrassing plea. But by the way his breath hitches, you know that Satoru loves it.

“Because.” he breathes, “You treated me like a human.”

He’s capturing your lips with his again, nipping at your bottom lips. You squeal as he pulls, suddenly wanting him to tease you like this everywhere. To have him absolutely ruin you like you know he could - treat you like the wife he claimed you were.

But Satoru wasn’t done yet - far from it. He chuckles, kissing down your neck, fumbling with the ties of your yukata, “Remember that night? You probably don’t, was rainin’ so hard I thought I’d drown out there.” Worshiping the valley between your breasts as he hastily unbuckles your bra. “That night was when the marriage proposals had come in. They said I’d either carry the legacy or be forced to leave the family. Kicked out of my own home.”

And you’re reeling from both his words and the way Satoru was rocking his hips into yours now, something hot, and so achingly hard pressing in the damp area between your legs. “Thought I was gonna take ‘em all out that night.”

“Take them all out?” your breath hitches.

“Every. Single. One.” Fingers dancing across the hem of your panties. “Wouldn’t have felt bad about it either.”

Satoru’s licking down your navel now, humming in confirmation into your skin. “But then…” he groans, taking in the first fucking sinful sight of your drenched panties. So flimsy and already dripping for him - and after just a few kisses, really? You were heaven on Earth. “But then along came you. So pretty and all worried f’me. The daughter of that diner owner I’d loaned money too.”

You watch, heart racing as Satoru swallows in awe. Darkened gaze locked on the way your slick beads out of your pussy, bare thighs trying to close - give yourself some semblance of dignity. But no- how could you? When Satoru’s holding them apart.

“And then I knew…” he’s sliding his index underneath your panties up and down, grazing your swollen folds. Pooling your sweet sweet juices on his fingertip before popping it into his mouth. Eyes fluttering shut at the taste, and you’ve never seen him look so blissful. “I just had to have you.”

Rip!

The cold air brushes against you before you even know it - only when you feel Satoru’s hot breath against your dripping cunt does it hit - this bastard just ripped your panties off. And he was dangling it like a badge of honor, breathing in your juices so animalistically.

Your lips wobble as he just admires your pussy, the way it glistens and clenches around nothing. “Hah- please.”

“Please what?” he grins, and you can feel him licking little circles around your inner thigh. So close. “The wife of a yakuza boss has gotta know how to use her words.”

“You’re awful.”

“And yet you married me.”

With such a cute lil’ whine that makes Satoru’s cock twitch so painfully, you buck your hips closer to his hot mouth. “Wan’ your mouth on me, to eat me out. Please, Toru.”

He lets out a shuddering breath, “There’s my girl.”

You gasp when he surges forward, burying his pretty face nose-deep in your pussy. Holding your breath as he lazily licks up your folds - long, sloppy movements of his tongue all the way from your base to your swollen clit. Swirling deftly around the sensitive nub.

Drunk off your pussy with the way he’s so messy - seemingly unable to decide between sucking harshly on your poor, ravaged clit to dipping into your sloppy hole. And it’s driving you mad, keening and pulling at his soft locks. You haven’t been touched this good in ages, and Satoru was well and fully intent on ruining you.

“Shhh, don’t worry, wifey.” words muffled into your cunt, “Your husband’s gonna take care of you.” He’s throwing your legs over his broad shoulders.

“Real good care of you.” Then he’s plunging knuckle-deep in your plushy pussy, the tips of his long fingers massaging your plushy walls. Messy enough that your slick is trailing down his wrist. Roaming for that one spot he knows will have you moaning deliciously. Pressing down, hard. “Found it. Gonna have you screamin’ my name til’ the entire estate hears.”

You tug on his hair, urging Satoru’s mouth towards your cunt - partially because you wanted him there, partially because you really needed him to shut up right now.

And shit how could he ever say no to his pretty wife?

Satoru is grinning, you can feel it on your throbbing clit as he wraps his pretty pink lips around it. Pumping his fingers in and out, hitting that little spot each and every time. Looking like he was absolutely in heaven as he rolls and swirls his tongue against your clit over and over and-

“Sh-shit. Toru-”

“Mmm, yes- fuck, love it when you call me that.” he groans. And oh he’s looking at you like he wants to devour you - eyes half-lidded, such a pretty blush disting his cheeks - and making out with your pussy just as much. Tilting his head back, back, back so that your juices slide down his throat. “Feels good? Ya like when m’ruining your pretty pussy?”

“Yes!” you squirm. Shaking, bucking your hips into his touch so desperately. “Wanted it s’bad.”

He’s becoming frenzied now, drinking in your cute little whimpers like he was addicted. But it wasn’t enough - it never was and fuck Satoru wanted more more more-

“Move your hips, yeah- jus’ like that.” Satoru’s grunting and smacking his lips against your own. Letting you pull and angle him just as you please.

“Gonna be the best fuckin’ husband you’ll ever have. N’ anyone that says otherwise, m’gonna fuckin’ kill.” The vibrations have your body jerking violently. “Make you cum harder than y’ever have. C’mon, say yes.”

And with that, he’s alternating between lapping at your clit and bullying his tongue through your swollen folds. Stretching you, thrusting in and out of your sloppy hole. Jaw grinding deeper into you as he eats you out like his last meal. “Ngh- fuck, yes yes yes-”

“Beg for it, beg for your husband.”

“Wanna cum- Ah! Please, wanna cum, Toru.”

One hand so messy toying with your dripping entrance - not having the patience or the sanity to even draw circles anymore. Just quick, hurried patterns to get you off. The other digging into your hips, so hard you were sure it’d leave marks for tomorrow. Making you drag your sloppy pussy senselessly all over his mouth. Using him.

“Hngh- Toru! Ah- fuck fuck Toru Toru T-” You’re shaking - crying out as you cum. A guttural, strangled moan of your husband’s name. So violent, and hard that you don’t even realize at first. Just that you’re rocking your hips into Satoru, white-hot pleasure behind your eyes, blood roaring in your ears.

And he doesn’t stop - not even once. If you were in any better state of mind you’d wonder whether it hurt - whether his fingers were cramping up, and his tongue was tired. If they were, he didn’t show, only letting you chase your high as roughly as you want.

Greedily lapping up all your juices. Even when you’re blinking your vision back, chest heaving as you try to regain our breath. “S-Satoru.” you mewl, stars behind your eyes with each flick of his tongue.

“Jus’ a bit more. Wanna taste all of you.”

You weren’t going to make it out alive.

Big, fat tears pricking at your eyes from the overstimulation as Satoru finally rises from what you almost worried would be his favorite seat. “All done. Now, keep that pretty lil’ cunt on display f’me, my girl.”

And your cunt is clenching in- fear? Anticipation? As your husband finally unties his yukata, letting it slide off those milky, toned shoulders. And shit he was such a fucking masterpiece. The dim-lighting bouncing off every curve and dip of those carved abs. Delicate swirls of his tattoo inching from his collarbone, down, down, down, hugging Satoru in a way that made you so half-lucidly jealous. All the way till the last inky thorn meets the neat tufts of white hair peeking up from the hem of his underwear.

“Touch me.” he groans into your ear. The words barely leave those pretty lips before your hands are everywhere. Dancing down his tattoo, groping at this pecs - too much to worship, not enough time.

“Toru…” you trail off, hand reaching out to brush his waistband. Tugging just enough that his throbbing cock springs out, hitting his sculpted abdomen. Red, and so so angry, fat tip weeping down his length, already so soaked in precum. He was so intimidatingly long - longer than anyone else you’d had before. Thick enough that you wondered whether you’d hurt yourself.

And he sees right through you.

“Now now, none of that.” he tuts, pushing your bare thighs as far apart as they’d go. He spreads your cunt so shamefully with his thumb. Spitting once, twice. Some of it splatter against your thigh as Satoru mixes his saliva with your slick. “Don’t worry, wifey, m’gonna make it feel good for ya.”

You flinch as he uses you like some object. Dangerously liking it more and more as he drags his fat head down your folds. Wetting himself, all the preparation he was going to give you because fuck Satoru needed to be inside your pretty lil’ pussy right now.

Then you feel like you’re being split apart - as if Satoru’s cock was pushing all the way to your lungs as he presses through the first ring of muscle.

“Ah! Ngh- Toru, s’too big!” you yelp, eyes locked on the way your lips were stretched so lewdly around his tip. Clamping and quivering as he keeps pushing in, inch by fucking inch. No mercy. Absolutely none at all.

And while he sounded like he was on cloud nine, you were having your head spin, torn between wanting to run away from his massive cock and just push yourself down for more more more. His lips claim yours - absolutely animalistic because God he needed to shut up your pretty whines or else Satoru was going to cum right here right now.

“Breathe, sweetheart, breath. Ngh- You can take it.” Satoru pants into your mouth, fucking into you in mindless, shallow little thrusts just to fit inside your snug cunt. Sounding like he was losing his sanity each time your heavenly walls milked him. “So fuckin’ tight. Jus’ relax f’me. Oh yeah, jus’ like that. You can take it you can-”

You gasp for air when he finally bottoms out inside you, tears streaming down your face and clawing at his back.

Satoru only coos, letting you mark him up all you want. Pace increasing relentlessly, “Aww, my good lil’ wife. Taking me so well, huh?” Starting to rock his hips just a bit faster into yours, “Always knew y’would.”

“Can y’feel me, right-.” Balls smacking against your ass, his finger tracing an invisible line halfway down your tummy. “-here?” Thumb stroking where he could feel himself bulging inside you, pressing down. Hard.

You almost sob at the pressure, jolting - you should’ve expected that the yakuza boss would fuck so mean.

And shit you can just do nothing but take it, hips jerking wildly as Satoru pounds into you with reckless abandon. Clutching at his shoulders, the sheets, his hair - just anything.

“C’mon~ Don’t run away from me,” he grunts, strained like he’s struggling to maintain restraint. Lacing his fingers on top of your head to slide you impossibly deeper onto his cock. “Jus’ fuckin’ got you, so don’t you dare run away.”

You can only nod. Eyes glazed, cockdrunk and letting him thrust so sloppily. “Won’t run away Toru…” you babble, “Wan’ you to make me yours.”

“Mine? Gonna be all mine?”

“All yours, Toru.”

And maybe you were an idiot, maybe you were a mastermind - because with a choked out little moan of what sounded like your name, Satoru’s pulling you both to sit up. The gravity makes you bury his cock deeper and faster into your tight pussy.

With the new angle, your husband’s hitting all the right spots easily, almost as if he knew your body better than you did. Veins rubbing so deliciously against your walls, shifting around your hips to fuck up into that poor, abused spot.

“Ya like this, huh?” he groans, fingers now toying with your ravaged clit. Rolling it around harshly between two fingers. “Always knew this cute pussy could take me s’well. Just didn’t know it would feel this fucking heavenly.”

Faster, sloppier. Bouncing you on his rock-hard cock like he was claiming you from the inside. So, so desperate and debauched.

And exactly where you wanted to be.

You leave delicate pink bites down this pale neck, alongside those roses - marking him in your own way as you edge closer and closer. It was too much. Everything was too much.

“Toru-” you sob. And he already knew what that meant. With how your voice breaks so adorably and the way you’re clenching around him hard enough that it’s almost difficult to ruin that cute pussy.

“Close?”

“Mhm…”

“Well then.” thrusts getting sloppy, with no reason or rhythm now. Grip on your body tightening like a vice. “Cum f’me like a good lil’ wife, then.”

And that makes you throw your head back in ecstasy - it makes you cum. Thighs quivering, jolts of electricity running down all the way from your overstimulated cunt to your hazy mind. It has you chanting Satoru’s name like a lifeline while his teeth dig into your flesh. Hard enough that you distinctly wondered whether he was out for blood.

Letting out low, muffled moans into your neck while he cums as well. Hot ropes of seed filling up your poor, bloated pussy, painting your walls such a sinful white. Cumming and cumming so hard you wondered whether you’d make it out alive.

And because of the obscene position, you could feel the way it dribbled down your legs. Thick globs landing in a pool on the overpriced sheets below, smearing so lewdly between you two. Hips still fucking up into you - not even thinking about it as he pushes his seed deeper and deeper.

You managed to raise your eyes, still dazed to meet his - exhausted, and dark with lust and something else that you really weren’t in the right mind to decipher right now.

And then Satoru’s lips find yours again, biting and tugging lazily. Tasting so unfairly of candy and sweet, sweet trouble. Body melting into you like all the worries have been lifted from his shoulders. He’s looping his arms tighter around your waist, crushing you into an almost-painful hug against him.

Something soft. Something new. Something that makes a little part of your heart twinge to break the kiss and pull away mere millimeters. “We better not divorce after this.”

“Of course not.” He chuckles into your lips, resting his forehead against yours like he was trying to map the constellations in your eyes. “I haven’t even given you my wedding gift yet.”

Smirking, you lock your legs tighter around Satoru’s toned waist as he lets the two of you fall back into the mattress. Sinking into it - and each other - with both exhaustion and something of a quiet, unspoken little fondness. Batting your lashes up at him, “Mhm, I remember someone talking about giving me four mercedes as a wedding gift and I’m leaving if not.”

“Well then, better get to it. Four for my in-laws to get on their good side, too,” he nuzzles the bite mark on your neck. “Because I plan to stay like this for a long, long time.”

A/N. Plagiarism not authorized.

#gojo x reader #gojo smut #gojo x you #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk #jjk fic #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #tonywrites

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eurydicey-dreams · 1 year

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I'm Schrodinger's bottom... a Venus fly trap of bottom... I lure girl in like teehee I'm just a wittle sub who wants to be topped teehee... and then I fucking rail them instead.

#nsft #wlw #bottom in the streets top in the sheets???#tf is that about #I am both a bottom and a top at the same time #I have no control over it

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caxde · 3 months

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bright eyes | eddie munson x reader

summary you're a new neighbour in the trailer park, on a sunny day Eddie's daughter bumps into you. (4.1k)

warnings fem!reader, girl!dad Eddie!!!!, fluff, mutual pining, yearning etc, slowburn strangers to lovers, idiots in love!!!, , english is not my first language so I apologise if there’s some mistakes, not proof read!

a/n: i think i might make this a little series if you guys would like that <3 part 2 part 3

It was warm outside.

Early spring had its advantages, flowers started to bloom, the sun shone brighter and longer, and the rain fell only at night when you had trouble sleeping.

You had just moved here, and you still weren’t sure or knew that much, so you tended to keep to yourself. You’d go to work, to the little shop on main street, back to your little trailer.

You were sitting down on your little kitchen floor, looking at the way your washing machine turned around, waiting for your hair to dry after the shower, so you could sleep with fresh sheets tonight. You enjoyed this sort of calmness, a new found happiness that you weren’t aware you could achieve.

You placed the white sheets on the little laundry basket that you had lying around, cloth pins scattered on its bottom. You held it, against your waist, your left hand grabbing it while you struggled to open the door.

You whispered along the words of a song that was playing from a beat up radio from across the street, taking your time, as you placed every sheet perfectly, enjoying the sun shining on your face. It was all going as well as it could.

“Hi.”

It startled you, not as much as it could, the little voice coming from down below you, it forced you to look down, a little girl looked up at you, half hiding behind your sheets, she was wearing a black faded black sabbath shirt that didn’t belong to her, the seam of it well past her knees, white socks on her feet, her hair was black and curly, half hiding her eyes.

“Oh. Hi.” You smiled at her, the sweetest tone you could fathom came out of your lips. She became shy for a second, as she grabbed one of your clothes pins and handed it to you. “Thank you, buddy.” You smiled as you grabbed it, placing it on top of one of your cushion covers, even if it didn’t need an extra one. “You’ll get your socks dirty.” You point out.

She smiled in a shy manner, covering her face with her hands as she nodded.

“Bug?” She turned around as soon as she heard his voice. Her arms went up, demanding to be held by him. “There you are!” He had a soft and playful tone, as he grabbed her.

You felt stuck there for a second. He was tall, with curly dark hair, strong decorated by tattoos arms that flex when he held her, close to his chest. The same smile she seemed to have was imprinted on his face. It’s not that he is attractive -which he undeniably is- but he seems to shine, in a beautiful light, warmer than the sun.

“I’m sorry if she annoyed you, we were playing hide and seek.” His words come out way too quicker than he had wanted them to, with an apologetic look on his face as he swayed his body, her giggles invading the space between you.

“She didn’t, not at all.” You smiled at him, before looking back at her, she was giggling at you now, and a soft spot was found deep inside your heart. “She was helping me do laundry, actually.” You point out to the extra wood clothespin that she had given you.

“Oh, so you can help the pretty lady and not me?” He jokes as he tickles her belly, the infectious laughter growing louder and stronger as he holds his face closer to hers.

But you don’t really listen, the only thing in your mind right now is his voice calling you pretty.

pretty, pretty, pretty.

Your cheeks become warmer, pinker.

As soon as he notices, he realises what he had said.

He had called you pretty before even introducing himself. He feels like a fool, he meets a pretty girl and is only focused on the one in his arms.

He tries to fix it, a soft grin dedicated to you as a nervous scoff leaves his lips.

You don’t really mind the silence, or the opportunity to look at him, and his dark chocolate eyes, but you have the impulse to tell him your name, and you do, with an upside down smile that passes down to him.

“I’m Eddie.” He says in return, grabbing your hand not thinking much of it, though he didn’t think he’d feel a sort of sparks as soon as your hand met his. To be fair, neither did you. “This little bug is Lua.” He adds, as he lets go of your hand, slowly, so his fingers can tickle her again, making her giggle once more, her tiny hands grabbing his hair in a playful manner.

“Hi Lua.” It’s not that your voice comes out shy, but the high pitched baby voice makes your tone come out with a bit of a treble, as if nervousness that she wouldn’t like you took over. “Thanks for helping me with laundry.” You add, as she hides, pushing her face against Eddie’s chest, the pureness of that gesture makes your smile wider.

If you weren’t so focused on Lua’s reactions, you would have caught Eddie lost into you, as he had never experienced such kindness or softness from someone that wasn’t already close.

He was used to the stares, and the silent judgment from everyone, way before Lua came into his life, and mostly it came from people around his age, or way older. His constant thought behind a string of ‘shut up grandpa’ and ‘go back to your retirement home’ that he never said out loud. The world could be mean, but he would never let her little girl know that. At least not yet.

He wasn’t used to this though.

A kind stranger, around his age, that doesn’t really judge, and interacts in a playful manner with her. It was more than he could fathom.

“‘r welcome.” Lua mumbled as she looked up from her hiding spot for a second, before burying herself back into his arms.

Eddie’s heart felt full for a moment. Lua wasn’t used to strangers, and she didn't really like to talk out loud to people she wasn’t used to. Though these days she was only used to uncle Way and Stevie, or aunt Rob. So seeing her, not only talking back after you told her something, but having seen her approach you out of her own will, it made his mind stop worrying for just a second. Lua’s social ability was just as good as his in that moment.

The thought made him smile to himself.

“We should check if our’s is done.” He mumbled to Lua’s ear as he started swinging his chest again, hugging her tightly as he felt how she was starting to get heavier. “That way you can stop wearing dada’s shirt.” He looked attentive at your face, waiting for your reaction.

He felt better when he didn’t see nothing but a compassionate smile.

Eddie was also used to people thinking he wasn’t the dad, maybe an uncle, maybe an older brother. Eddie was also used to people opening their eyes wide as soon as they hear dad when referred to him.

But you didn’t.

Truth be told, it did shock you a bit. But the little girl was a carbon copy of him. The same wide smile and wild hair. And the world was mean and complicated enough, you didn’t need to make it harder for someone you had just met.

“We’ll see you around?” He asks, with a hopefulness on his voice that you’re not too sure what it means, or what you actually want it to mean.

“Yeah, I moved in a while ago so…” He nodded as he pointed at the little trailer right in front of yours.

“That’s us.”

“Way!” Lua blurted out as she looked back at where she called home, and Eddie couldn’t help but chuckle and give her a kiss on her temple.

“Yes! And uncle Wayne too.” You noticed that his tone is sweeter, calmer and a bit higher when he talks to the little girl on his arms than when he talks to you. “If you ever need anything…”

He doesn’t finish his sentence, the end of it implied, and you’re left nodding, telling him that if they ever need anything you’re here too, waving bye to Lua as she looks over Eddie’s shoulder, her little hand waving back.

You finish hanging your laundry dry, as you think about what just happened.

You had finally made friends that weren’t work related, and one of them was a baby. You sort of chuckle to yourself. It felt stupid, but it also felt good, knowing someone here, and that someone being nice, and kind.

It felt as if you were finally on the right path.

“Bug, please?” Eddie whined for the fourth time, while Lua was still on the higher part of the couch, looking out the window.

She shook her head again, Wednesdays were always the longest days in the Mudson household. Eddie took another big breath, while he looked at his wrist watch once again, afraid he’ll be late if he doesn’t leave soon.

“Okay… You can either stay here with uncle Way, or you can come with dada to the garage. Please?” He bargained, for the last time, begging to some higher power she’ll climb down the sofa.

He could scream out of excitement once she finally did.

“friend?” She asked, in a mumble as she pointed out of the door.

She had been doing that for a while now, ever since Eddie had found Lua in your yard, she kept asking to go see you, for some reason that escaped Eddie’s mind, her little girl seemed to have an infatuation with you.

Eddie sat down on the floor now, and Lua started walking closer to him, he laughed in defeat as she giggled, her little steps approaching him.

“Once I get back from work, deal?”

Eddie held his hand out, waiting for her to shake it as she usually did when she knew she had won whatever she wanted -which happened frequently- but accepted with glee once she tried to hug him, with her usual clumsiness. Her arms not quite reaching the back of his neck until he helped her up.

He enjoyed this little moment.

Holding her close while nothing else was going on. A long day ahead of him that he wasn’t totally ready for, but then again he wasn’t really ready for a lot of things that he ended up being capable of.

Wayne’s steps broke the small intimate moment.

“You made a friend, Lua?” He asked as she giggled at the sight of him, even if he still was half asleep, Wayne always seemed to have more than enough energy for her.

“She did.”

“Who?”

“New girl.” Eddie nodded at the trailer that could be seen through their window.

“Huh.” Wayne had never been a man of many words, but the way his facial expression changed usually left nothing to the imagination. In this case, it was a warning. An overprotective warning.

“She seems nice. Lua approached her.” She smiled, as she always did when she heard her own name. Eddie knew that she liked to be included, no matter what. Maybe that’s why he tried so hard.

“You did?” Wayne’s eyes opened wider, as he squatted down to meet her eye level, she wobbled her way into him, as she giggled once again. She had a secret power, or at least that’s what Eddie thought, to make everyone happy.

“Friend!” She said again, pointing at where she had last seen you.

“Okay bug, see you in a bit?”

“Lo you.” She muttered as she waved bye, Eddie’s heart warmer as he opened the door and blew her a kiss.

“Love you too, bug.” Eddie opened the door, stopping on the frame as he always did, checking his pockets, making sure he had everything he needed with him.

“Kid, if you plan on going over, make sure she’s okay with it. Not a lot of people are.” It was another warning, his left eyebrow raised, his tone sharper. Eddie just nodded.

And before he knew it, he was already on your door, knocking and hoping you’re actually home.

You were, and the nocks on your door wake you up. You had always been a light sleeper. You found your way out of your bed, and you didn’t care if your hair was a bit knotted than usual, messier or that your eyes were still adjusting to the light creeping through your windows. You opened the door and there he was. Tall, handsome Eddie, in his washed up jeans and his white shirt that had some small car grease marks on it. His opened blue short sleeve shirt with the little name tag made you smile internally.

“Sorry.” He muttered, as soon as you made eye contact with him.

He took a second, you stood there, sleep still present on your face and overall demeanor, but what caught his attention -even if he tried not to- were your naked legs, barely covered by an oversized shirt that you evidently used as a sleep shirt. Still, you looked pretty, he thought. He also felt bad that he had woken you up.

“S’kay. Morning.” You half joked as you smiled up at him, your head resting against the door frame, your arms crossed over your chest, the air making you feel a bit colder than you were deep in your sheets.

“Yeah, morning.” He was left speechless. He wasn’t sure why, but all of a sudden he wished he hadn’t knocked. So you could be resting, being face to face with you, he could see the little bags under your eyes, and he imagined how much you were enjoying getting to sleep in.

“You knocked to tell me good morning?” If you hadn’t had a smile on your lips, or your voice wasn’t as sweet and soft as it was, Eddie would have felt even worse. When in reality it made you inexplicably happy that he was the reason you had woken up.

“No, yeah, sorry.” He chuckled in a nervous manner once again. “Uh, Lua has been asking for you, and uh… I’m done at work early today, and if it’s not too weird and if it’s okay we could come for a bit after, don’t worry if you don’t feel like it i-”

“I’d love that.” You cut his nervous and anxious rambling off. “I’m free today, so I can go pick up some things for her?”

Eddie relaxed, his shoulders dropping and his smile finally appearing.

While you had to try hard to hide your excitement.

“You don’t have to…”

“Shut up. She deserves it.”

Even if you weren’t aware of it, that was the best thing you could have said to him. But truth be told, you were actually excited, you had been thinking about him, and the promise of a new friendship since you had met him, so this? It felt like the perfect excuse.

“What time were you thinking?”

“Uh, I dunno, my shift ends at around six, so maybe…”

“I’ll have snacks ready by six then, don’t worry.”

He was way more thankful than he could express, but he tried his best anyway.

“Thank you princess, it means a lot. Truly.” That nickname rang in your ears for a while, the same way it did when he had called you pretty. It was made obvious that you had liked it by the way you were starting to blush.

“Don’t worry Edds.” You stayed just like you were for a second longer. Looking at him, and the way his dimples were showing when he smiled as wide as he did, and a spark in his eyes he seemed to reserve for you. “Hope you have a good day at work.”

He was the one blushing now, and the one he was left with the way you had called him Edds, the sound of your voice present on his ears for a while after he had started driving. It wasn’t until he arrived at the garage, when he realised he was smiling at nothing, like an idiot.

You might have gone a bit overboard.

You had gone into town, and before you knew it your fridge was now filled with various juices and milk. The good ones that you usually didn’t buy for yourself. You had thought about baking a cake, but you ended up deciding that that felt too much as a birthday type of treat, so you went for your comfort recipe.

The cookie dough was already done, and you were chopping up the chocolate bar into smaller bits. You hated dark chocolate, so milky sweet one was the only acceptable one.

Morrisey’s voice kept you company as you mutter along the lyrics.

You looked over your little home, you had cleaned, deeply. Afraid that Eddie would judge you, or that Lua would somehow hurt herself or something could happen to her. You tend to do that, over worrying about things you can’t really control.

Then again, Eddie was doing the same thing.

A quick shower, fresh clothes, and hair almost dry. Lua looked up at him with excitement, as he tried to find something else for her to wear. She had a tendency to steal his shirts when he wasn’t there, in an attempt to be close to him, or at least that’s what he thought. So the negotiation began.

“Bug, which one?” On his left hand he had a light blue dress that Joyce gave him a few years ago, on his right he had a newer pair of overalls. She stood there, shaking her head as she hugged the shirt she was already wearing. “You need to get dressed if you want to go see your new friend, bug.” He couldn’t help but chuckle, as soon as she realised they were going to see you, she pointed at the overalls and had no issue getting ready.

Thank god for you, he thought. It had never been that easy, normally Lua hated changing clothes, especially when she was already comfortable. But this time, she didn’t only do it, she helped, and was excited to.

Lua wasted no time, her hands hitting your door as hard as she could, which resulted in soft knocks you still heard.

“Hi.” She beamed up at you, holding her arms open for you, her voice higher than you remembered. It might be her childish excitement, or at least that’s what you think.

“Hi Lua.” You met her level of excitement as you squatted down so you could meet her, her arms trying to hug you, waiting for you to help her get up so she could do it. Used to this type of hug with her dad.

Speaking of, Eddie was speechless. Mainly because Lua doesn’t really hug people that are not him, or Wayne. Steve maybe had gotten two or three hugs, she usually blew kisses. Also he wasn’t sure if you actually wanted them there, or were just being nice, but that doubt went away as soon as he heard your voice, and saw the way you smiled at her.

He also was pretty sure that he could smell cookie dough.

Lua found her way in, passing you by as you greeted Eddie. She didn’t have time to waste, her curiosity always winning. In her defense, your house was full of colour, and she wasn’t used to it. Every pillow was a different colour, and they were everywhere. Your couch was green, which she didn’t even know that was a possibility. Your walls had photos, and posters, and drawings. She had so much to look at she was grinning from ear to ear, laughing as she moved around.

Eddie did the same, in a more discrete manner. He found his way in the middle of your living room, he looked at the stacked shelves, they were full to the brim, various fantasy books that he recognised -mainly because he had already read them- cassette tapes and vinyls also shared a big portion of space. He smiled to himself everytime he knew a group that you seemed to like. Your vhs collection also caught his eye. You, on the other hand, were left there, holding your hands in an anxious manner, not too sure what to do now. Seeing how father and daughter act the same in different ways.

“You’re listening to the Smiths?” He asked, once he caught on to what was playing.

“Oh, yeah, I’ll uh… turn it off.” You became embarrassed, knowing that probably he didn’t like that type of music, or maybe it was too loud. Eddie smiled, shaking his head no.

“No, it’s fine. Lua likes them, that’s all.” You looked down at her, and relaxed once you saw her dancing along. She was moving up and down, kind of in tune with the music.

The little timer started, letting you know that the cookies were now done.

“Lua, you like cookies?” She didn’t even need to say anything, her eyes opened as she heard the word, she walked next to you, Eddie following closely.

He grabbed her up, letting her sit down on the counter. He was grateful all the trailers were the same, that way he knew -kinda- where everything was.

“Carefull, bug. It’s hot.”

“Hot.” She repeated, pointing at the baking sheet that you took out, fresh golden chocolate chips came out. “For me?”

“Well, not all of them.” Eddie answered, with an amused tone in her voice that made you chuckle in response.

“We have to wait for them to cool down a bit.” You told her as you placed them on a plate, the tips of your fingers slightly burning.

“Why?” Her eyes opened in wonder, not really following you.

“‘Cause when they’re too warm, they can give you a belly ache.” You explained to her, earnest in your tone, as you touched your own stomach.

“Only five minutes, bug.” Lua turned around, looking at Eddie with a confused look. “You can wait five minutes right?” She looked at him, slowly. You couldn’t help but chuckle, seeing the way they share the same look between them.

You were on the couch.

Eddie didn’t count it as cuddling, not really.

You were just sitting down next to him, his arm brushing yours, as you both looked between the T.V that was playing ‘Arthur and the Stone ’- you had a tendency to collect VHS, and the style and drawings had pulled you to buy it. You didn’t have an excuse until now to watch it, so you were just enjoying it as much as Lua did- and the little one, who was enamored by the story, while she colored in one paper lazily.

Eddie had become a bit too comfortable. His body feeling heavier, warmer, he was on the verge of falling asleep. That same feeling shot sirens on his head. This felt too nice, too normal, too usual. He could get used to this, and that wasn’t good.

He didn’t really know you.

Eddie knew where you lived, how your living room looked, that you worked almost everyday -though he still didn’t know where-, and that you were incredibly nice. And sweet.

Eddie also knew that Lua trusted you, and for now, that was enough.

It was enough that you had taken time out of your day so you could bake them cookies, or buying the expensive juice that you had taken them in as if they had always belonged there.

Lua giggled and Eddie’s eyes opened, seeing how she was pointing at the T.V when the boy turned into a squirrel, and the way she looked up at you, wanting to see your reaction. He was happy, more than he had been in a while.

You were sinking deeper into the cushions. Deeper into him and this familiarity. You could get used to this, but you weren’t unsure if you should. You enjoyed spending time with them, and this was fun, but then again, it was scary. It scared you, the thought of it going wrong, or you doing something you weren’t supposed to, it was a bit too much.

While you were sitting down there, with him that close, his smell lingering in the air, his warmness by your side, the risk of this crush evolving into something else was too much.

You didn’t care. Not at all.

Neither did Eddie. Not even a little bit.

part 2 is up!

if you enjoyed it please leave a comment or reblog. i promise it makes a huge difference <3

requests! are open

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phyrestartr · 2 months

Text

Icarus, I Am Devoted | Sukuna x M!Reader

Main Fic W/C: 5.9k Bonus Drabbles W/C: 1.6k

[#Modern AU, ABO dynamics, bottom!reader, top!sukuna, Mob Boss!Sukuna, Alpha!Sukuna, Street Doctor!Reader, Omega!Reader, toxic relationships, age gap, sukuna is mid 30s, yuuji gang and reader are mid 20s, sukuna and yuuji are brothers, sukuna has FEELINGS, but he is BAD AT FEELINGS, nsfw, fluff, hurt/comfort, I KINDA EDITED BUT I JUST WANT THIS TO BE YEETED INTO THE OPEN OK BYE SORRY IF PARTS ARE CLUNKY]

@better-imagination-9 I summon thee

Sukuna didn't like Yuuji getting caught up in his business.

He was too brash, thought himself too badass for the world to take down, thought gang life wasn't as bad as it was made out to be, just because his older brother was involved. Sukuna didn't know where the fuck he got that idea–the tattooed menace had killed people, stolen money, sold shit that ruined lives. It was fun for him, sure, but not so much for bystanders.

“You're an idiot,” Sukuna growled as he dragged his brother into his office and threw him at the chaise lounge while they waited for their doctor on demand.

“H-hey, come on, man! It's, uh, it's not even that bad–” Yuuji grimaced, though, holding at the wound gushing blood from his arm. “You've had worse!”

Sukuna laughed bitterly as his henchmen flooded the room and made necessary preparations for their aid's arrival. “You and I are fucking built different, Yuuji--you’re too damn soft for–”

“I'm not,” Yuuji snapped, honeyed eyes blazing. “I'm not.”

Sukuna laughed again, then ripped his plush, leather chair across the room, sending it hurtling into the expensive ebony walls he encased his place of business in. He roared in overwhelming fury as it clattered to the floor.

“How hard is it for you to listen? How come you can never just fucking–”

“Yelling won't solve things,” your cool voice interrupted as you hurried into the room, medical bag in hand. “I thought you learned that by now.”

Sukuna whirled on his heel. His hands were still fisted in his hair and his blood boiled, but now, there existed an explosive tension with you in the room.

You, his pretty little omega. The one he chased away. The one he still craved. The one that drove him insane.

“Uraume,” Sukuna growled, crimson eyes locking onto his most devoted.

“My apologies,” they said with a pensive look and deep bow, “he was the only one willing to come.”

“So mind your manners, or I'll let your brother bleed out,” you said airily, so haughty and bitchy and annoying. But Sukuna knew you wouldn't let Yuuji die. You wouldn't let him suffer with a wound like that–you were too fond of the little brat.

Sukuna snarled in frustration and fixed his jacket with sharp tugs. “Just fix him.”

He stalked away, ignoring the way Yuuji yelled at him before preening at you as you tended to him. Sukuna knew his brother had a bit of a thing for you, his bitch, which caused more than a handful of problems with the two arguing and fighting for your affections. Naturally, you chose Sukuna. Of course you would.

The alpha's frustrations boiled, reducing the rage in his gut into simmering desire. He leaned his head back against the elevator mirror with a sigh as it shot up toward the penthouse--the one you, too, used to occupy. The one where you'd spread your legs for him, drowning in expensive, black silk sheets while he bred you like the good little thing you were. The one where you'd cook for him if (when) you woke up before him the morning after. The one where you first whispered I love you against his skin when you thought he was asleep.

The elevator doors dinged open, and he stormed out, eager to rid himself of the tightness pulling at his slacks. A cigar and a drink sounded good, too.

–

Ding.

He knew it was you. It had to be you. You were a good person, willing to let Uraume rest while you gave your ex the update he needed about his brother. After all, you didn't fear him, nor did you yearn to please him. You were more than capable of delivering shit news and getting off scotch free.

“So?” Sukuna took a deep puff from his cigar and leaned further into the balcony railing as you approached.

You hummed as you sidled up next to him, tucking some of your hair behind your ear as the breeze tugged at it. “He'll be fine. Yuuji's tough. He's a bit shaken up now that the adrenaline’s worn off, though.”

“Maybe that'll teach that idiot not to get shot.”

“Probably not.”

“Probably not,” Sukuna sighed, tapping off a dash of ash from the butt of his cigar just before it was plucked from his hands. “Oi.”

“These things'll kill you,” you scolded airily. “So will that.” You tried reaching for the crystalline glass of amber, too, when Sukuna scoffed and took a sip to spite you.

“Don't,” he snarled. Any normal omega would have backed away. Any normal omega would have keened. Any normal omega would have tried to please him up with a sweet scent of submission. But you were a different breed entirely.

“Don't growl at me–” you gaped as Sukuna downed the expensive liquor before whipping the glass at the skyline. “Sukuna.”

He stalked back into his penthouse with heavy steps as he ran his hands through his hair. He had to busy his fingers, his palms, just so he wasn't tempted to touch you, to grab you like he was used to. It'd been years since you were properly together–properly engaged in fact–but he still couldn't shake those infuriating fucking habits. You were a cancer in his mind, plaguing his body and thoughts.

But he didn't want you to leave. Maybe he liked the chase. Maybe he just liked how his entire, explosive world narrowed down to just one infuriating thing that he wanted so badly. He didn't know. Maybe he didn't need to know.

Sukuna poured himself another drink and collapsed onto his soft leather couch with a deep sigh. His arms draped along the back, one hand still holding the glass by the rim. He let his head fall back, and stared at the ceiling.

Thankfully, you wandered in. And you wandered toward him, not to the door like you usually did when his temper flared and he acted out. Something small and pathetic in him uncoiled and settled down, purring in content when you took a seat beside him.

“What's going on?” you asked quietly. Your fingertips singed sparks of pleasure against his skin where you touched: his cheekbones, his hairline, his furrowed brow.

He lolled his head to the side to look at you, his stupid pretty boy. “Nothing.” Not even Sukuna believed that.

You brushed his hair back, and the stupid alpha in him rose to the surface and moaned. “Yuuji’s not behaving?” Your warm palm cupped his cheek, and he leaned into it.

“That little shit never behaves,” he mumbled through the vibrato of purrs rumbling from his chest. “Gonna make me die young.”

“Hm. Is that why you haven't slept?”

“I'm sleeping.”

“How much?”

“Enough.”

“Sukuna.”

“I said–”

“You and I have different definitions of ‘enough,’” you chided lightly, like you were scolding one of your cats. “You look tired.”

“Maybe it's because my mate scampered off in the middle of the night.”

“Don't blame this on me.”

“Why not?” Wine-red eyes glowered at you, deciding whether he should dominate or decimate you. “It's your fault.”

You recoiled the slightest bit, your top lip twitching in that oh-so familiar way it did whenever you were close to snarling and snapping at him. You had such a temper for such a calm thing. Sukuna would be lying if he said he didn't try to rile you up on purpose.

“Ho? What,” he started, grinning wickedly when you made a move to get up, but his arms snaked around you and held like wrought iron. “Feelin’ guilty?”

“No,” you hissed, half-pissed by his drink spilling on you, half-pissed by his accusation. “Let go. I'm leaving.”

“Leaving?” He crooned. “You always get so pissy when I don't wanna talk, ‘n now that I'm in the mood, you're tryna leave? Come on, sweetheart, that's not fair.”

“I don't feel like fucking fighting tonight,” you snapped, and Sukuna stayed quiet for a change. “Yuuji got shot. You look like shit. And we--I haven't–” you took a deep breath. “Can't we just be civil for a night? Can't we just talk about–”

“About what?”

“About whatever.”

“Fine.”

“Alright. Okay.”

Somewhere behind the haze of alcohol, Sukuna's consciousness celebrated–this could be his shot at starting to fix things. This was his moment to rebuild that lost relationship and maybe clean up a space in his life for you to sit safely in. Your expectant expression agreed with him. You looked quite cute, what with your big eyes and the way you leaned into him. But instead–

“Was it a boy or a girl?” Sukuna asked before taking a sip of whatever remained in his glass.

You blinked and shook your head, eyes narrowing the slightest as you looked over his face. “What?” You asked.

Sukuna snorted and turned to face you, one arm gesturing with his scotch glass while the other arm stayed slung across the back of the couch. “I said,” he started, gesturing to your stomach and chuckling through his low, bassy words, “boy or girl? If it was a girl, then maybe the world did you a favour. You know how it is for women in this day and age.”

You stared blankly like you were shellshocked, and Sukuna bubbled with near-manic, reedy laughter until you got up and walked to the door.

“Oi, where the hell are you going, huh?” He got up and followed you, hastening his steps when he saw you b-line for the door. “Omega.” He grabbed your wrist and pulled you back, purring into your ear as he pressed his chest to your back. “Come on, we can make another one. You'd like that, huh?”

“Get off,” you barked, ripping his arms away from you. But he grabbed you again and spun you back to face him. You shoved him back, your mind whirling in a chaotic waltz drenched with grey thoughts and crimson rain that almost drowned out the words he barked at you until–

Whack.

He hit you. Backhanded, fingers adorned with thick, bulky rings and knuckles that'd seen too many fights. A natural disaster contained in the vessel of a mortal man–sometimes, he didn't know his own capabilities.

“Shit,” Sukuna mumbled, scrambling to set down his glass to, what, tend to you? Rewind time? Sure. “Babe–”

But you, too, were a natural disaster. The tsunami that came after an earthquake, raising tides high and staring down at split earth with a taunt: you think you're bad? Watch this.

Thwack.

You snatched up that bottle of fancy scotch and hit a home run, watching Sukuna collapse to the floor.

–

Sukuna woke up with a concussion, his wallet missing, and one of his favourite cars torched.

It got him riled up. He was too ready to hunt you down and make you rectify your mistakes–that is, until he remembered why you did what you did.

Boy or girl?

Maybe the world did you a favour.

Fuck. He flew way too close to the sun this time.

He watched you stack up expenses on his card instead of hunting you. Your little rage-filled crime spree was kind of funny anyway, and he couldn’t help but hope it made you feel at least a little better.

Though he knew it could never. Nothing could make it better.

–

“You should quit messing around with him,” Ieiri said as she tended to the half-dead gangster laying on her operating table. “He's bad news. A kid like you shouldn’t be getting involved.”

The one little, wiggly lucid part of Sukuna wanted to strangle Ieiri; you were young, sure, but not stupid. Sukuna wouldn't go so far as to say you were mature for your age, no, but you'd been beaten down by life and forced into the role of an adult for long enough that it'd changed your way of thinking, of perceiving the world. You could make your own choices–just as long as it involved him.

“You're not the first person to tell me that,” you said softly, words rising with a small, warm chuckle. “Good guys try way too hard to put on a show, to hide how garbage they can be.” You squeezed Sukuna's hand and ran your thumb over his split knuckles. “Guys like him show you who they really are right away. Then, you get to figure out what his good side is like.”

–

You were there again. In the elevator, looking a little pensive beyond your cool exterior.

Sukuna took a drag from his cigarette as he stepped in beside you. The button for his penthouse leered at him and whispered, “you have time.”

All he had to do was think of what to say. The right course of action was obvious, but–well, was it really his fault? He couldn't accept that 100%. You clocked him upside the head with a fucking glass bottle and stole his–

“Those things'll kill you.” Your fingers snatched the smoke from his lips before he realized it. He caught you butting it out on the fancy gold railings.

“I like things that can kill me,” he hummed, lighting another cigarette and chuckling when you snatched that one too. “What, scared of a little competition?”

“Yes.”

Oh. Sukuna liked that.

“I, uh,” you started, fumbling with your pockets before handing something over. “Found this.”

Sukuna glanced your way finally. He couldn't help but laugh as he plucked the wallet from your hands.

“Found it, huh?”

“Mhm.”

“Such a benevolent, pious thing. I would've kept it.”

“Yeah, well. You're a dick. ‘Course you would.”

“Where'd you find it?”

“My pocket.”

“No shit.”

“Yeah. Weird.”

The elevator doors dinged open, revealing the empty hall leading to the penthouse. He glanced down at the door before looking back down at you.

“Have a drink with me.”

Your expression soured.

Sukuna threw his arm against the doors to keep them open. “Coffee?”

Your brows lifted, the creases smoothing from your face. “Coffee.”

Sukuna's alpha bloomed with pleased content. He sidled up next to you and rested his broad hand on the small of your back, leading you down the hall.

“With a bit of Baileys.”

“No Baileys.”

–

He let you try to sooth his stress while you waited for your favourite, poor-person coffee to brew.

You straddled his thick thighs as you kissed at his neck. Your hands roamed and threaded through his gelled hair, your blunt nails dragged along his scalp, coaxing rumbling purrs out of your alpha.

“Shit,” he moaned, leaning back into your hands, digging his head into your digits and grumbling like an old dog. You hummed in sympathy, and gave him harsher scritches, making his knee bounce in double time like a dog getting the spot scratched.

You weren’t done, though. You licked at his neck’s scent gland and coaxed more of his natural musk to the surface to mix with yours–a classic way to get one’s partner to calm down. You were methodical as fuck about it, too, knowing how Sukuna’s stress abruptly blocked any good scents in favour of excreting foul, angry odors into the air when he was pissed. Or, sometimes, he’d shut down completely, the only scent coming from what clung to his skin and clothes.

And so, he needed a little more TLC to get things flowing again, to make his body disarm and let the good vibes flow.

You nipped the swollen spot lightly, eliciting a strangled growl from the man. “Too rough?” Your tongue pressed at the spot again, and pulled more of that deep purring out of him. “Maybe not.”

“By all means, rough me up.” That was as close to a warning as you would get from a greedy bastard like Sukuna. He wanted you to bite harder, to break skin and set the wild tornado of a mating rut into motion. You were careful to avoid him when your unholy heats crashed down on you, but being in the presence of your estranged man when he was set off–well, it’d jumpstart your sex-crazed frenzy, too.

“Raincheck,” you murmured.

He huffed and rubbed circles in your hips before grabbing your ass and squeezing. “When's the last time–”

The coffee maker sang a tune and you got off, saved from your warm, fuzzy marking daze. “Does it matter?”

Sukuna got up and stalked after you, rubbing the ache out of his shoulder. “Like it or not, we're stuck with our binding vow.” His chest pressed to your back, his arms slipping around your waist as he leaned down to nuzzle into your skin. “Mated for life.” He couldn't help the smile that branded into your neck.

You cleared your throat and snatched up two mugs. “There're surgeries–”

“No.”

“How do you take your coffee again?” Hah. You didn't even try to argue it.

Sukuna's ego boomed. His scent grew more dominating and demanding in tow. “You know how I like it. You know the way I like everything.”

You scoffed and slapped his hand away, the sweet, teasing omega that happily marked him up and scented him to high heaven gone, now replaced with your annoying, bratty self. Ugh. He loved it as much as he hated it.

“You used to be cuter,” Sukuna commented, quiet and breathy, so out of character. His hands retreated back to hold your waist instead of keeping you trapped against him. “What happened to–”

“You know what happened.” You sounded tired, too. Angry. But not at the Sukuna standing with you right then and there.

Sukuna's old friend, unyielding frustration, bore down on him. He sucked his teeth and beat down the urge to snap, to yell and scream, claim it wasn't his fucking fault and that you never filled him in, so how could–

His forehead pressed against your shoulder. “I don't,” he sighed. “I don't fucking know, (Name). We lost our kid, I know that much, so what the fuck else is there?”

For a moment, he thought he'd lost you again. He expected you to whirl around, throw a cup at his head and curse him to hell to start off another fight; instead, you slipped out of his hands gently, and replaced your warmth with a cup of coffee.

“Come sit.”

Sukuna complied.

You tucked your legs up under you when you sat down. Your own mug was held snugly with both hands, yet your fingers fidgeted, twirling around whatever rings you had on while you thought of what to say.

“So,” you started. “How much do you know?”

Sukuna leaned back and thought. “Uraume called. Said something was wrong.” He could remember their voice ringing in his ear, that usual, frigid demeanor exploding into something panicked and tortured as they tried to comfort you, order idiots around, and explain the situation. “They didn’t know what, but said you were bein’ taken to Ieiri. I met ‘em there, Gojo wouldn’t let me come in.” He sighed, the memories pricking his nerves. “Told me you miscarried, and–well, that’s more or less it.”

You nodded a little, digesting the scraps of knowledge that’d been given to Sukuna. “I was alone,” you breathed. “I was–I’d been cramping. A lot. I thought–I didn't know–I just–I thought it was normal.” You cleared your throat, fidgeting more and only stilling when Sukuna's palm rested on your leg. You covered his hand with one of yours. “There was a lot of blood. I thought I was dying. Uraume and Yuuji took me to Ieiri.”

Sukuna remembered that, too. He remembered catching sight of you just before his brother carried you away from him. It was hard to forget the sound of your wailing amidst all that red–that damned noise came from hell itself, from the burning, fetid pits of agony and despair and up through your beautiful voice. For something so foul to touch you was nothing but blasphemous.

Sukuna tried to follow you in, but that moron Gojo wouldn’t let him in, spouting some bullshit about how he’d make things worse. Needless to say, Sukuna snapped, and Ieiri suddenly had more than a mourning omega to deal with.

“I pinned it on you to cope. I didn’t know what else to do.” You spared a shy glance at him before staring down again. “...Uraume filled me in, though. You were dealing with so much shit. All that crap with the Zenins. And you didn’t even–you didn’t even know I was knocked up until I wasn’t.” You sighed and sipped your drink before setting it aside. “Guess it was easier to blame you for everything than it was to just accept I got unlucky.”

“‘Unlucky’?” Sukuna repeated lowly, void of mirth for once.

You nodded. “Chromosome bullshit, garbage genetics, a shitty cervix. Coulda been anything.” Sukuna watched your expression shift from desolate to bitter. “And if you fuck up once and lose your pup, odds are it’ll happen again.”

“Says who?”

“Science. Doctors.”

“You really gonna take their word like that?” Your eyes met his, doey and expectant. “I'll gut ‘em myself if they say that shit next time you're knocked up.”

You looked a bit bashful then, looking away from him with pursed lips and glossy eyes. For a second, Sukuna thought you were about to snap and argue with him about how you vowed to never get pregnant again (which he'd indulge in), or maybe even bolt for the door (which he wouldn't allow), but instead, you grabbed the remote.

“Tch. Don't say such stupid shit. It's annoying.”

Sukuna could only grin to himself as you settled in beside him, tucking up against his side. Neither of you could swallow your pride enough to properly apologize for anything ever, but that wasn't necessarily needed–understanding was what was needed. Things had just become a little bit clearer.

–

For once, the alpha found himself at ease. Sure, you had your petty and some less-than-petty spats, but there was a coil of contentment that stayed at the forefront of Sukuna's mind through it all. Now, he no longer fumed nor bristled, no longer wondered if you really belonged to him, no longer thought about how to trap you if he wanted to keep you around.

Because you made more of an effort to see him, to call when you couldn't, to set his vicious wolf's heart at ease so he could rest soundly. He rested the most when you were so gracious as to curl up in those black, silken sheets with him, too.

Don't get too excited. It's just because we're mated; we'd go insane otherwise, Is how you rationalized it. And, honestly, it was cute to see you act so flippant and uncaring when Sukuna knew you were so the opposite.

Little liar. Loves playing pretend. He gently tucked stray hairs behind your ear as you snoozed soundly beside him. It was unlike you to sleep in so late (“late” meaning past 6am), and it was unlike Sukuna to wake up before you, so it must have been kismet.

Because this moment was the first in a long time where he got to touch you. Beyond the playful ass slaps and grabs at your hips, you never really let him feel you. Or did he just never try to touch you like this? Gently, just for the sake of feeling your skin and your warmth?

Sukuna was a brutal man. He didn't often have a chance to be careful. If he'd had that kid, then he might've learned how; he could've learned not to throw glasses at skylines, not to lash out at his omega, not to expect you to still love you when he broke you.

He brushed his thumb along your cheek and down to your jaw, admiring the soft skin and strong angle that led him to the curve of your chin, and your perfect lips. God, he wanted to kiss you. It'd been an eternity since he had a taste of you. Maybe if he was gentle–

I can do gentle. Sukuna shifted the slightest bit towards you until his nose lightly brushed against yours, until he felt your light breaths fan against his skin. Ah, why was his heart beating so fast now?

He did his best to ignore the way his pulse thundered in his ears when he brushed his lips against yours once more, before he kissed you softly. Gently. Perfectly. And he took his time parting. He had to savour the taste of your lips against his because who knew when he'd get to kiss you again?

I love you, he heard echo in his memories when your lips parted. But he never heard himself reply.

“Love you too, brat,” he murmured. “Don't you dare think otherwise.”

Your eyes opened a moment later. “You mean that?” came your reply, just as light and whispered. Sukuna felt waves of heat come off your skin–were you blushing?

Crimson eyes flickered from your bashful look to the slight parting of your lips and back again. “Always.” Even though he never said it. But he let you get away with everything to show that love–credit card theft, cracking him upside the head with a bottle, abandoning him for months on end.

A soft ‘hm’ hummed through you. Your sleepy gaze melted from Sukuna’s, and down to his lips, too, while your own pursed, pensive. Thoughtful. Christ, you were really something else–just a single look from you had his mind reeling, his chest easing into a warmth so reminiscent of a campfire, the sort you both used to sit around when you’d bullied Sukuna into buying one for his too-big balcony.

Back then, you were just “friends,” though the flirting and meaningful touches said otherwise. You were still a street doctor, introduced to him by Yuuji of all people, but you had more pep in your step, especially when you worked to try and swoon the hardened, deranged alpha you’d decided belonged to you. You’re mine, you said simply after shooting whatever whore the big, bad boss had hired for the night. The look in your eyes, cold and determined, got Sukuna achingly hard in an instant. He never wanted you to look at anyone else like that–your rage, your obsession, it could only ever be for him.

“‘M I still yours?” You still want me? You still love me? Am I still just for you?

You looked a little sentimental. A little sad, too, maybe. But maybe it was just the culmination of your fears and worries, your wants and desires finally breaking through your solemn being.

“I'm a minimalist at heart. I've only got room for so much.”

“Don't tell me you're back on that Kondo Marie kick–”

“But you're something I can't do without.” Yeah, I love you. I want you. I don't want much, but I want you. You're mine. “You bring me joy, or whatever the saying is. But I wanna beat the shit outta you sometimes for being a dumbass.”

Sukuna laughed and nudged your nose with his–a small, primal gesture of fondness. “Yeah, yeah, I'm aware. Tch. You're gonna have to be careful--you're gonna send my old ass to an early grave if you keep up with all this fiery youth shit.”

“Then I can inherit your fortune,” you offered airily before kissing him teasingly. Sukuna growled when your small fangs dug into his bottom lip playfully. “That'd be nice.”

“Hah. Everything's going to family–Yuuji, the old fart.” Sukuna pulled you in closer and purred as you complied. “You'd have to–”

“I'll marry you if that's what it takes,” you cooed, and Sukuna froze. You paused for a moment, too, before lifting yourself up to look down at his dumb face. “Oi.” You pat his cheek lightly but he scowled at you, half-cranky, half-defeated. “Eeeh? You mad?”

“Tch.”

“Awe, big alpha's mad.”

“Don't.” A command. A warning. One that had your subgender reeling and whimpering behind you, but your human side smiling, ready to mock.

You slid on top of him, straddling his waist and splaying your hands out on his broad, solid chest. Sukuna still kept his gaze elsewhere. Honestly, you couldn't blame him--you were in a mood.

“Oi,” you prodded, poking at his ridiculous pecs and tracing over the dark lines of his irezumi. “Hey. Don't pout.” But he grabbed your hands when your stupid fingers threatened to assault his nipples, and he continued to pout. “Come on, I said I'd marry you.”

“Tch.” You've said that before.

“I mean it.”

“Tch.” You’ve said that before, too.

You leaned down, and nuzzled the hollow of his cheek while he grumbled and grumped. “You don't like the idea of breeding me anymore? You don't want me to yourself, all caught up in your bedsheets with you between my legs? Hm? You don't wanna fuck me through my heat, knock me up a few more times, make me bare your children for the world to see how I belong to Ryoumen Sukuna? You don't want me to be drenched in your scent–”

You squeaked when your man flipped you around, pinning you before ripping off the sleep shorts keeping your skin from him. His rough fingers dove deep into your slicked up hole (apparently your long list of hypotheticals had worked you up into a soft, wet, pliant thing) and hurried to stretch you wide.

“Such an annoying little shit,” Sukuna grumbled. And you laughed, lightly and so achingly genuinely through your fluttery mewls and moans. “If you try ‘n back out this time, I'll break your fucking legs and tie you down to the bed, you got that? I'm not gonna be so fucking nice this time.”

“Eh? You were being nice last–” you whined when his wet fingers jammed into your mouth. But you obediently sucked and bit at them, holding onto his muscled arm for leverage while he kicked off his bottoms and pressed his sweltering tip to your soft entrance.

“You got no idea, princess.” Sukuna pushed in, groaning with ancient, cursed need as your insides welcomed him and obeyed, letting his uncomfortable size push you open. Seemed your body still remembered him. Wanted him as much as your stupid pretty mouth claimed.

You were gasping, your molars chewing into his fingers as your missing piece slid back into place, filling you up until it hurt to breathe. Strong thighs clamped down against Sukuna’s sides as he dragged you down, forcing the last bits of his cock into your very depths, squeezing a reedy whine out of you, before he pulled out and slammed right back in again and again and again.

Your cry nearly sent him over the edge. It was a loud, bassy thing, something like a cello toppling or having its string plucked too hard by a callous touch–a sound Sukuna reveled in. You were the only partner he'd had that was like this, so demanding and bitchy, absolutely horrible and as poisonous as alphas were, and he loved it. He lived and died by your gospel, by the very life that thrummed underneath his touch.

And you promised to be all his. Sukuna could have everything, anything and anyone, and that apparently included trapping and claiming a god. One that only he prayed to. One that'd only smile upon him. One that only delivered to him divine blessings.

What a divine gift.

He folded you in half with ease and blanketed your trembling body with his own. The fingers fucking into your mouth slipped out and down to your throat where they squeezed lightly; then, they traveled to the back of your neck, found your cute little nape, and squeezed.

Your eyes rolled back as your body arched up into him. Words left you in some ancient tongue neither you nor Sukuna could decipher. But it was a language of love and pleasure, the sort that brought delicious submission coiling through your blood in offering to the lowly creature devouring your holiness.

“Sukuna,” you choked out. Your fingers dug into his shoulder and fisted in his hair, pulling him closer to the old, scarred mark left there by him a decade ago. “‘Kuna, I need–”

The boss laughed low, but with fluttery, manic high tones warped throughout. “Need me to bite you? Mark you mine again?” He taunted. His nails dug into your soft side as he fucked into you harder, lifting your waist up to meet his brutal angle as his base started to swell. “I wanna hear you say it–say you need it, you want it. Say you need me to fill your guts every fucking night. Say I'm the only one who can get you there. I'm the only one–” his other hand grabbed your nape harder, forcing your submission further, forcing your neck to the side to present it to him.

Then, with a snarl, he added, “say ‘I do.’”

Your arms wrapped around his shoulders as you murmured those very words into his ear.

I do.

Sukuna's heart howled with the beast living inside him. Blood flooded his mouth when he tore into your shoulder, digging deeper than needed to brand you his again just before his pulsing knot squeezed into you and locked into place, stilling his wild rampage and holding you hostage beneath his hulking body.

You shifted and writhed against him, so obviously overwhelmed by such an archaic, crazed union–your omega must have been going wild, willing you to fight against the monster pouring his seed into you, locking you in place, taking away your autonomy. But a short, rough warning growl settled your inner self the slightest bit and straightened out your thoughts enough for your human pettiness to urge you, too, to sink teeth into flesh and mark up your alpha to complete the re-bonding.

Good boy. Sukuna's hips rutted against you in light pulses, attempting to jam his knot further into you to ensure you'd take everything he so graciously offered you. But every little move your bodies made together tore more hot strings of cum out of him and into your core. Apparently an eternity of not having you was culminating into this one moment.

You were the one to let go first. You collapsed onto your back with a loud sigh, and the crushing constriction of your thighs laxed just slightly.

“Fuck,” you gasped, wholly content and pleased. Your hand wiggled between your bodies and rested on the still-inflating curve that your partner had oh-so loving built out of cum and obsessive dedication. “That's gonna make a mess.”

Good. Sukuna's chainsaw purr reverberated against your bloodied skin. He chewed into you further and relished in the taste and smell of you, the way it mingled with his own scent of existence and made him feel so irrevocably whole.

Your fingers laced through his hair as you laughed. “Oi, let go already. Your knot's not gonna go down for like thirty minutes. I'm not going anywhere.”

Your mate obliged, dislodging his chunky fangs from you and lapping at the wound dutifully until the bleeding staunched. Next, he got to work leaving an array of dark hickies and light bites all over your neck and shoulder, just in case the gnarly bite mark wasn't enough to ward off idiots who thought they had a chance with you. He grumbled at the mere idea of it.

“So?” You cooed, running your hands up and down his muscled shoulders. “What do we do for half an hour?”

Sukuna scoffed. He tried to pull out just a bit, just to see if he was seriously locked in there, and you spat a vile hiss his way, your nails digging into him at the same time. And, fuck, you were tight–

“Fuck.” He didn't think this through.

-- DRABBLES --

“You're dumb as fuck, you know that?”

“Ah, such romantic words to hear from my wife.”

“Husband, jackass.”

Sukuna managed to open his eyes through the pounding of his head. God, he felt like shit. But that probably came with the territory of getting shot point-blank before bailing out of a moving car on the highway. Honestly, he was lucky only one car hit him when he hit the pavement.

Still, it was bad enough to warrant him a ticket to the hospital. Uraume worked behind the scenes, ensuring their boss got a private room and that the police would stay the fuck away if they knew what was good for them, and it all somehow worked out. Uraume was definitely a sorcerer of sorts.

“Can you save it for home? Fucking hell,” Sukuna groaned, letting his eyes fall shut again. “Too tired to argue.”

“That's a first,” You huffed, and marched up to his side, sitting down in the cozy seat waiting for you. Your careful touch prodded at his hand gently, as if assessing the damage, guestimating if you could hold his hand without hurting him, but he made the choice for you. He caught your hand weakly, and you held him safe with both of yours.

“Missed you,” he grumbled, squeezing back lamely. “Have fun on the trip at least?”

“Yeah, until I heard what happened.” You sighed, watery and warbled. “I shouldn't have left. You're too stupid to survive alone.”

Sukuna laughed, then coughed. He felt you tense. “F-Fuck you, little shit. I'm fine.”

“You got shot.”

“Been shot before.”

“Jumped out of a car.”

“I've jumped outta faster.”

“Then got hit by another car.”

“That was a first.”

You sighed to fight back either a sob or ill-placed laughter, or maybe both. “This is so fucking ridiculous. Never make me take a vacation again. I can't be off fucking around in Hawaii when my baby daddy's getting hit like it's GTA.”

“Christ, I already–” he paused, though, and cracked an eye open to look at you. “What did you…”

He lost his words when he saw you. Your skin glowed in a way he hadn't had the luxury to see before. Your face looked rounder, too, like you'd put on a little bit of weight since you'd been gone. But your scent–your usual sweet, full-bodied scent of flowery coffee was cranked up to a trillion. If Sukuna's nose wasn't busted, he would've noticed the way it filled up the room, and he might've noticed how his own scent rose to meet it in greeting. Something strange was happening.

“Oh. Right. Uh…” you cleared your throat and hastily tucked some hair behind your ear. You looked a little bit lost for words too, in all honesty. “I’m pregn–”

Sukuna sat up. You barked at him to lay down, your voice rising a few octaves when something that was probably important dislodged from his wrist as he reached forward when you stood. And you froze when his palm pressed against your stomach–a natural, maternal thing to do. Sukuna remembered when he caught your cat for you when she was trying to dart out the door whilst pregnant, and how she froze dead in her tracks when his hand caught her by her kitten-filled stomach, and let him carry her back inside.

But this was different. This wasn’t his partner’s cat’s kittens he was feeling, it was yours. His. A shared little nugget doing its best to grow big for its expectant mama–and now expectant papa.

“How long?” Sukuna rasped. When did his throat get so dry?

“Two months. Ish.” You rested your hands over his again despite the awkward angle he caught you at. “I didn’t know until last week. I tried to call, but–” You got obliterated and couldn’t answer your phone.

“I get it. Don’t gotta explain.” Sukuna gazed at your stomach a moment longer with droopy, half-lidded eyes before looking up at you as nurses burst into the room. “You’re moving in.”

And for once, you didn’t argue.

–

“Dude, you guys can't fuck when he's pregnant! You'll crush the baby like a tin can!”

You snorted and tried to cover your mouth as your tea shot out your nose. You coughed and wheezed, turning away and waving at the brothers in a desperate plea for them to not look and continue their petty argument.

Sukuna, caught between the urge to mock you and kick the shit out of his annoying little fucknut brother, sighed and rubbed his face before handing you his fancy handkerchief he kept tucked in the breast of his jacket for nothing but looks. These days, though, the damn thing had been paying its dues.

“You think I'm gonna listen to a fuckin’ virgin about this kinda shit?” Sukuna quipped back as he watched you clean up before trying to take a sip of your drink again.

“Hey, man, I'm just saying. Your dick is like a third leg.”

You slammed your hand down on the table after spitting a mouthful of tea back into your cup. “Yuuji. Please. Why do you even know that?”

Yuuji pouted and scooted closer to you under the kotatsu. “Wh--we're brothers! It's not even that weird!”

“It's weird as shit,” Sukuna offered as he reached out to rub your back.

“So not weird.” His honeyed eyes locked onto the small affection the older showed you. “Man, so not fair you guys are ganging up on me now that you're, like, a thing,” Yuuji whined and let his arms and chest flop across the table like a petulant child.

Sukuna smirked. “Jealous?”

You grumbled. “Sukuna. Don't start.”

Yuuji's ears turned bright red. “Jea–what?! No! I like girls like Jennifer Lawrence, not--I don't–”

“N'awe, little pup's tryna cope with losing.” Sukuna grinned wildly when Yuuji's head snapped up, pinning a deadly stare onto the older alpha. “Oh? Finally grow a pair?”

“Sukuna,” you warned again.

“You better shut it, dude,” Yuuji threatened next, and you knew it was a lost cause; two alpha brothers, both incredibly competitive, both pining for the same omega, spelled disaster.

Your partner laughed that familiar, ugly laugh–the sort that was too genuine and sounded borderline insane. “Or what? You gonna make me cry–”

Yuuji launched over the table in an instant, tackling his brother to the ground with a bratty snarl. You watched on, unimpressed, waiting for any signs of their wrestling turning into a serious fight, but it never came. So, you enjoyed it a bit. It wasn't everyday the two idiots played nice.

You rested your hands on your curved stomach while the two growled and snarled half-heartedly in their dumb attempt to subdue the other. Sukuna could've won in an instant, you both knew that, but he'd let Yuuji think he had a fighting chance for a little bit. It was part of the fun for him, letting his little brother gnaw on him like it'd do anything, letting him try to use his horrible jiu-jitsu skills on his older, bigger brother. It reminded you of–

“Oh,” you peeped when a rowdy kick jostled your hand. It didn't come from the boys, no, it came from the tiny tot inside you.

The boys froze and stared at you.

“Huh? What's ‘oh'?” Yuuji asked through his panting and straining. Sukuna had him in a headlock, one of his hands giving a brutal noogie to the younger's head.

“No, just–I think she kicked. Maybe not, I don't–” but your expression brightened with delight when another little throw hit your hand.

“No shit?” Sukuna grinned, waves of excited alpha scent rolling off of him. He face-shoved Yuuji away before sidling up next to you and pressing his palm against your stomach. You guided his touch to rest over the kicky hotspot, and sure enough–

Thump. Thump.

“Two kicks for your old man, hey?” Sukuna hummed, looking so damn triumphant.

“Hey, hey, I wanna feel!” Yuuji scrambled over like a nightmare and wiggled up on your other side, pointedly ignoring the snarl Sukuna sent his way. “Come on, it's my niece, chill out.”

Sukuna growled again, but you pulled his hand off to let Yuuji feel the little life making herself known. His eyes, too, lit up when those tiny thwacks battered his palm.

You looked up at Sukuna dreamily, making the other's ticked expression smooth down into just mildly-annoyed; if your omega wasn't threatened, then he wasn't going to threaten. Sukuna didn't think Yuuji would hurt you, absolutely not, but anyone who came near you, or so much as accidentally bumped into you, pissed Sukuna off, sending his over-protective instincts into overdrive. He always had to rely on you to know when not to react.

“That's so cool!” Yuuji squeaked. “She's seriously in there!”

“Where the fuck else would she be,” Sukuna grumped.

“Don't ruin his fun, Sukuna.”

“Yeah, don’t ruin my fun!”

“Yuuji’s banned from the house.”

“WH–HEY!!”

“Sukuna.”

“Heh.”

“What about gramps, then?”

Sukuna paused. His heart stopped for a long, long moment.

“What about him?” He answered, nonchalantly as possible. “Old fuck cut me off years ago.”

“He still cares,” Yuuji offered with a shrug. “And I told him about the pup ‘n everything.”

Sukuna frowned. “Yuuji–”

“You seriously think he doesn't give a shit? Dude, be real, the guy raised us.”

“That's generous.”

“Didn't you say you were leaving everything to Yuuji and ‘the old fart’ originally?” You cooed, unhelpful as ever.

Carmine eyes found yours. “...If he actually wants to meet her–”

“Awesome, I’ll let him know!”

“Oi, runt–”

But Yuuji jumped up and pulled his phone out, leaving Sukuna to wonder what he’d just gotten himself into while you laughed at his misery.

#sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna x male reader #sukuna x m!reader #sukuna x you #jjk x you #male reader insert #male reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen reader insert #jujutsu kaisen x male reader #jujutsu kaisen x you

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hoooebot · 9 months

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Cruz Manuelos, your majestic sculpturesque jawline will always be famous

#special ops: lioness #cruz manuelos #laysla de oliveira #honorary degree straight out of the dykecademy #top in the streets bottom in the sheets

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p1utofairy · 9 months

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PAC: “cause every little thing that we do, should be between me & you.” 🕯️💭✨

• what are your person’s dirty thoughts about you?

disclaimer ✩: 18+ mature themes. thank y'all for 1K omg <3 y’all really fw with lil ol’ me?! ily ily ily. 🥹 here’s a lil sumn sumn to celebrate. 🥂 p.s. take what resonates, leave what doesn’t. enjoy!

pile 1 ⭐️ —

“you don't need me, please believe me. this ain't easy, you know i've been feindin'. let me unleash my demons on you.”

“innocent” is what i’m hearing pile 1. your person will underestimate just how much of a hold you have on them lol initially they’ll think that you’re more of the submissive type, but oh are they in for a treat! you hold your cards close to your chest, so it’ll surprise them when this other side of you comes to the surface. i’m hearing “classy in the streets but a freak in the sheets” LOLLL. oh i’m also picking up that some of you may be inexperienced (or may not have as much sexual experience as them) but it won’t come off that way to them...they’ll just think that you’re playing coy and teasing them. your person will be eye-fucking you a lot, i can see them sitting across from you just looking you up and down…locking in on your legs — they’ll really love your legs. “you’re just too good to be true, can’t take my eyes off of you. you’d be like heaven to touch.” just started playing in my mind. awww your person is very sensual 😩 and as much as they want to have you…they’ll be patient. they want to make sure you feel comfortable. all i need by lloyd just came to mind, “get up on it. i’m so horny and i want it. so get up on this, get up on the dick.” LMFAOOOO ik i said they'll be patient but i’m ngl they'll be internally tussling with themselves because they’re used to just getting what they want and people falling for them at the drop of a dime, but you make them work hard for it. i can see you two having a heavy make-out session before they drop you off home and then you pull away and you're like BYE 😘👋☺️ and they'll just be sitting there with their mind racing a mile per minute like FUCK?????? lmfaooooooooooo my gosh you will rile them up so bad pile 1. i feel like there will be a height difference between you two or an age gap. they could be older than you! you give them butterflies <3 they think they’re making you soo nervous/giddy inside (and they are) but you hide it a little better than they do. after every interaction with them you’ll feel all mushy inside hehe and you’ll be able to tell that you make them nervous. they’re just blown away by how beautiful, hot and how well-put together you are. i can see you talking and they’re just watching your mouth move like 👁️👁️ LMFAOOO bye pile 1. they’re feenin’ for you.

pile 2 🪡 —

“i just wanna live in a fantasy. i think we deserve it, right? top all the memories. i’ve ever made in my life.”

oouu this is my pile that doesn't take shit from nobody, okayyyy! hi pile 2 welcome to your reading <3 i can already tell that your person loves how you carry yourself. you do not allow many people to have access to you, and when you do, people can’t help but feel special inside because you have such a ✨big✨ presence. you may not take your person very serious at first. they have youthful/playful energy while you have a very disciplined and mature demeanor. that’s what will make them so attracted to you; how you're always on your shit…there's no cutting corners with you, you do not have time for the games and they will respect that. there's something about your lips that they love. you might have a defined cupid’s bow like rihanna or maybe they just like how cute and soft they are; especially after they just got done kissing you. i see them teasing you and slightly biting your bottom lip after they pull away from the kiss 🥵 ugh don’t count them out pile 2. they might have youthful energy but they're a pro when it comes to seduction lol you both are similar in a sense — you both want something serious and passionate with a hint of playfulness. they'll loveeeee watching you get ready! like i can see you standing in front of a mirror, in a rush to make yourself look presentable and they're just laying back on the bed…giving you the look. just ready to POUNCE. whew pile 2! this person’s love language might also be physical touch, cause they’ll be fighting the urge to squeeze your ass or constantly have their hand on your lower back. you’ll secretly love all their physical affection though hehe.

pile 3 🔪 —

“out of breath, take it slow. i wanna feel it in my soul. yeah, i know you love it when i’m on top. gotta keep it going, baby. don’t stop.”

heyyyy pile 3 🤗 i’m immediately hearing that you have a way with words. you know exactly what buttons to push to get your person aroused mhm! your person knows your worth just as much as you do, they’ll put you on a pedestal and treat you with so much care and devotion. they may have a worship kink? i see a bedroom setting — lightly-dimmed, candles lit, red rose petals on the floor and they’re slowly taking your shoes off for you…their hands trailing up your bare legs slowly 🥵 OKAYYYY pile 3! the sexual attraction is strong in this one wow. that scene from the wolf of wall street where naomi (margot robbie) and jordan (leo dicaprio) are on a date and naomi is giving him the fuck me eyes while saying “aren’t you married?” is coming to mind. now i don’t feel like there’s any third parties/cheating involved…you two just might be into role-playing. like i can see them booking a spontaneous getaway trip for the two of you & y’all just slut each other out and explore each other’s wildest fantasies the whole time 🤭 you both know how and what will make the other person tick; i can see them teasing you a lot in public. a lot of dirty talk in your ear, hand on the back of your neck gently squeezing and kisses. they were never really like this in their previous relationship(s) but you bring out a whole different side of them. agora hills by doja cat just started playing, “kissing and hope they caught us, whether they like or not. i wanna show you off. i wanna show you off.” THEY REALLY DO, PILE 3. they can't believe they bagged you…every-time they look at you they’re in awe.

#pac #pick a pile #pick a card #love pac #love reading #intuitive reading #pick a card reading #tarot #tarot pac #tarot reading #pac reading #energy reading #p1utofairy

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saiidahyunie · 3 months

Text

don’t go insane

hirai momo x fembodyguard!reader || fluff ; smut

synopsis: you get assigned to protect your world famous girlfriend again—but an incident occurs one night that will change how you approach the bed from now on.

warnings: smut ; cursing ; more smut ; mentions of food ; alcohol ; spanking ; praise ; edging ; smut again ; overstimulation ; degrading ; slight belt play? ; bondage ; dacryphilia ; mmmmmm smut and smut hehe! ; bottom momo ; whipped reader for a quick second ; [redacted] appears (again) ; might/might not be proofread ; i think i cleared the checklist ??

a/n: for @gayforminatozaki, the direct sequel of standing next to you .

the cool morning air of paris meets you, standing on a balcony with a french pressed coffee to your lips.

how fitting.

you scout the few amounts of people down on the street below your apartment that were going about in their daily lives. you see a woman enter a bakery with another person cruising down on their moped wearing a cute baby blue helmet zipping past your vision.

another sip of your coffee passes through your lips, finishing the last bits of it before you were just now holding a simple empty cup that said “for the missus” with a lipstick mark under the text. you scoffed at the cup of choice, knowing that it had came as a set that was a welcoming gift for the person that you were assigned under.

sighing out in relaxation, you gaze over the skyline where the eiffel tower was making its presence known, with the arc de triomphe also standing tall behind in the distance on this bright morning under the warm sun.

you turn your head back inside, the sheets unmade from the amount of movement that was made in the bed last night—your side clearly left imprinted on the mattress and pillows, along with the pool of clothes that were scattered across the floor from last night’s event.

suit trousers laid flat, the dress shirt on the chair, your necktie on the headboard of the bed. it was the complete opposite to your current attire of grey sweatpants with a white crop top shirt. god it was definitely an evening for the books. another pair of clothes were off on the tile floor next to the bathroom, a path seen leading further into the room, it’s occupant still fast asleep on their side of the bed.

the person sleeping their heart’s content away in question? none other than your famous girlfriend, momo.

unlike your side of covers, hers exposed her bare back to you, hints of red marks and hickeys all over like a canvas painting that was curated by yours truly.

but how did we get to this exact moment currently? let’s rewind a bit back to explain how you and her ended up the morning after in a paris penthouse suite.

not long after you and momo hooked up following the chrome hearts incident back in new york city, momo finished up the remaining tour stops in the US with ease. the only new catch however was that you and her kept your relationship secret behind the scenes.

most of the nights would be filled with endless sex with soft pillow talks in the morning, show preparations filled with stolen kisses when no one else was looking, staying right by her side when escorting her through different areas—hand on her back or a finger linked with hers.

the two of you really enjoyed the time spent together on the free days, momo being the free spirt that she was going crazy with shopping and you carrying most of her new clothes that she couldn’t wait to try on for herself and you—only for it to be torn off her body minutes later when you couldn’t stop eyefucking each other.

in all of the moments shared, time was the greatest enemy in the end. her tour had finished and you would be sent back to another posting while momo would have her much needed time off.

it hurt to finally be separated after realizing the feelings you had for her, but you knew that she had the strings to pull you back to her for another event sometime later in the year, so the agreement of being in a long-distance relationship was the solution for now.

at the airport, you ensured to keep your bodyguard image once yoona had managed to get everyone situated in momo’s team. while she was doing that, momo pulled you away from the logistical atmosphere to a nearby photobooth. you laughed at her silly idea, but she insisted on making one last memory before leaving back home.

“this is so teenage corny, but i wouldn't mind having one last memento from you.” you say to momo, sitting down on the far end of the small booth, arm wrapped around her waist while she tapped away on the screen to get the photo machine working.

“something for us to keep, and a little reminder of you.” momo says sweetly, you press your lips to her jaw that makes her mewl cutely at the affectionate side that she managed to bring out of you.

you and momo do a wide variety of poses in the six frames that were set up for you two. the first three being funny and cute poses of pressing each other’s faces and hugging, and the last three being more intimate with kisses on cheeks with the last one being a proper lip lock to seal it.

yoona stands outside a luggage store with karina, looking for the two of you while she spots you two walking, sharing a quick laugh while momo was holding two cups of coffee—clearly one of them for yoona as you stood behind her, scanning the people walking past you while momo handed the cup.

“our flight’s leaving in about an hour, but we have first class so we can board a little bit early than expected.” yoona announces to the three of you. momo pouts her lips with those thick nerdy glasses that were just for show and not for prescription, your cheeks forming a dimple realizing that the time was now growing short.

“if anything yoona, we’re pretty much set over here. another team will escort you guys to the gate, but this is it for us.” karina says, your eyes turning towards her while she said that to momo’s manager.

“do you mind if you can bring us to the person that’s helping your team before you have to leave?” yoona asks, shouldering her expensive handbag in her arm that was slipping off.

“sure, y/n you want to come?”

“it’s fine, i have to get in touch with nayeon for a debrief.” you reply, holding a hand up with karina acknowledging your refusal. “you can go, i’ll meet you back at the terminal.”

karina nods, motioning yoona to follow her.

momo bent down to tie her shoelace real quick, but that was a fake cover since she stood up after you tapped her shoulder, wrapping you into a hug that makes you want to go with her back home. you could use the break anyway from your bodyguard post for a bit and you did say to nayeon that you’d be taking a temporary vacation once you and the rest of your team got back.

“momo…” you mutter, her hair over your mouth and nose as her grip tightened around you, not wanting to let go at all. “you have to go baby.”

“i know, it’s just- i’m gonna miss you…” she mumbles into your shoulder, fighting back tears before loosening her hug just a bit to meet your face.

“we’ll be together again, but you deserve the break.” you comfort her, patting her head as she hugs your waist once more, pressing her lips to yours for a quick kiss—one feeling that you’ll never get enough of the next time you’re assigned with her again.

“i guess i have to go now…” she says defeatedly, you grab her hand for a quick second before she stars walking away, fishing for your slip of pictures from the photobooth and a sharpie that you always had on the ready, scribbling on the back of it with something.

“give me your photo slip and take this.” you instruct momo as she hands you her copy of the pictures, trading for the one that you just wrote on.

“what’s this?”

“my personal phone number,” you answer, “i keep two phones; one for work and the other for outside of my job.”

momo chuckles a bit, happy with the gesture you just did to ensure that you and her would keep in touch.

“now get going silly, you’ll miss your flight.” you say to momo, tapping her shoulder as she gives you a couple more quick kisses, each contact much sweeter than the last before she pulls away.

“i hope you know that i love you right?”

“you don’t have to tell me twice.”

she smiles at you, lunging for one last kiss before starts running backwards to the gate, waving at you like a lost child at the mall. the black beanie the back of her head finally disappearing in the crowd after a few seconds.

everything felt way too good to be true, only for you to be brought back down to the earth. the miles and miles of land and oceans tearing you and momo apart for what seemed to be like forever—but in reality it was just for the summer.

momo’s tour had concluded in may, and she had the whole summer to herself back doing various things with her close friends and family; traveling around the world and seeing the new sights of countries that she dreamed of going back to when she was a kid.

as for you, nayeon let you off the hook with that long overdue vacation that you proposed back at the chrome hearts store. sure, she didn’t want you to be on temporary leave since you were basically the best in the business at doing your job correctly. speaking of correctly, that dumbass heechul was finally kicked off to the curb and shipped to a different celebrity service that was more well known for dealing with delinquents—perfect for his line of work really.

during the summer, you decided to use your well paid time off doing a bunch of works that you put on hold when you first got the bodyguard job. this was not limited to drifting in custom-made cars, a getaway trip with your close friend sakura to jeju island, and even doing a simple modeling gig; courtesy of momo for helping you get set up.

you and momo kept in touch through texts and facetime calls whenever it was possible despite the difference in place and time, but if was worth fucking up your sleep schedule for her, then you could never complain about the increase of caffeine in your system.

“so when are you supposed to go back to work?”

you hum while reaching in the cupboard for a mug to use for your homemade root beer float, “i don’t know, nayeon told me that i could come back whenever i feel like since i’ve done a lot more than i initially expected.” you say, turning back to see momo on your screen laying on the bed, the heels of her feet up in the air.

“they really worked you down, didn’t they?” momo sighs out that makes you chuckle at the thought of it. she knew that you were stressed to a certain degree during her US tour, and luckily she was the one to relieve all of that almost entirely.

“yeah,” you say, “but on the brightside, i finally got back to some of my hobbies outside of work.”

“hmm, like what?”

“oh you know, sleeping in a whole lot more compared to waking up at 5 in the morning. or better yet, being able to go out for some drinks and not having to worry about a hangover the morning after.” you list, pointing a finger up in the air like some idea with a dumb smile struck over your face.

“you’re so cute.” momo laughs out, “i can’t believe you have this side of you i didn’t expect to see.”

“oh shut up, you’re one of the few people i can’t get mad at now.”

“good.”

the both of you share a laugh together over the phone, sipping the last couple chunks of ice cream mixed with your root beer, stirring it with a spoon while momo shifts herself into the bed more, almost getting ready to fall asleep.

“i miss you.” you say to momo, tilting your head to match hers that was on her side now, tapping her cheek on the phone screen. “it sucks that we have to keep this dating thing a whole secret for the sake of our companies.”

“at least it's not a dating ban, but i miss you too.” momo replies, eyes drooping with the wave of sleepiness slowly taking over.

“i’ll let you go sleep now.” you softly say while momo moans slightly through her covers. “dream of me when you can, yeah?”

“always.” momo murmurs out, waving small with her three fingers over the cover as you wave at your phone screen, kissing to the air while momo ends the call after more than four hours. (with all this free time that you and momo were granted, it was justified)

“she’s so cute.” you say to yourself, standing up from the table before cleaning up a bit around your kitchen before packing it up for the night.

once the summer had passed, things got back into full swing. momo was in and around the studio working on her next project while you ease yourself back into the bodyguard position by training the newbies that had come up through the ranks.

you had a smug smile on your face with the new people being introduced to your unit; chaeyoung worked under a previous agency but switched over since the pay was better. wonwoo was also a returner that was supposed to be with your team on momo’s previous assignment, but you got heechul instead which was a bummer because of logistical reasons. and there was tzuyu, who didn’t seem like the more intimidating type—once you saw her skills with firearms and martial arts, that ended the questions faster than they could be formed.

during one team briefing, nayeon pulled you out of it for a quick word. granted, you hated those meetings anyway so nayeon was doing you a favor by bailing you out so that you didn't have to talk about all of the financials that this bodyguard job demanded for better equipment and all of that special jazz.

“this better be good.” you say to nayeon, leaning your hand against the wall with the other on your hip as nayeon parts a wisp of hair from her face before seeing a grin with a hint of her fixed bunny teeth.

“we got a posting for you. pick five others to tag along in your team and we’ll get all of the details sorted out.”

“you know i’m taking karina, mingyu, and wonwoo this time. but let's add tzuyu and keji too.”

“that’s why i like working with you y/n.” nayeon says, tapping your shoulder, letting out a scoff at the compliment you received just now.

“is there a catch?”

“sadly, this is a double-op assignment. we’ll be working with jihyo’s agency.”

“that’s not bad, she does her job pretty well like you actually.”

you and nayeon glance over to see joshua blitz past by, running papers in enclosed cardboard pipes on a cart before returning back to the conversation.

“so jihyo’s team is in on this also?” you ask, rubbing your hand alongside your face. “explains the lag in details being exchanged.”

“it’s fine,” nayeon replies, waving her hand up to not make you worry. “jihyo and i are good friends, so i expect nothing less from you or her team.”

“where’s the assignment?”

“france, for paris fashion week.”

“oui, oui.” you hint at nayeon with a wink. “that means i can dress a little more fancier now.”

“should’ve done modeling instead then.”

“don’t tempt me now…”

an exchanged laugh was shared before nayeon brought you back to that stupid meeting that was already ending, but you were excited to travel again—this time, to one of the most stylish cities in the world.

while that was happening, momo was back in her luxurious apartment sharing a brunch meal with sana, her close friend of 10 years, catching up with whatever life nonsense had happened while momo was out of the country.

“so that’s how it happened?” sana asks, tossing a grape into her mouth while momo was texting yoona about some logistical details regarding the expected fashion week appearance.

“pretty much, but i had a crush on her since the first time i went on tour, but there was something about her the next time i saw her that made me want to jump at the opportunity.”

“and you guys have been dating for?”

“roughly about fiveish–six months since may? so it hasn’t been that long.” momo answers, putting her phone down on the coffee table that showed her homescreen of you and her on a day off in los angeles, the blurry image of you and her hugging that was probably taken by yoona.

she also shows a professional picture of you working to sana—an image of you at the front while momo was behind wearing sunglasses along with a hoodie to keep her appearance hidden to the public.

“she’s pretty hot, i’ll give you that.” sana chides, zooming in at your broad stature, the blazer on your body well rested in every noticeable aspect in the shoulders and waist, the earpiece clearly seen in your left ear and your prada glasses.

“the best is what they say about in terms of her job, now i’m trying to have y/n assigned with me every chance i can.”

“you are so gay, and horny.”

“you’re into that too sha, don’t even talk.”

“the new miu miu ambassador everyone will be talking about in a week or so. can’t wait to see the pictures from that.” sana says, downing a glass of orange juice while momo hits her with a pillow from the couch.

planning phases are always a pain, but luckily you’re not part of the management end of things with your agency since nayeon’s team did most of the heavy duty business like clockwork and once everything was all set in stone—the green light for paris fashion week was under way.

momo was walking around her spacious walk in closet, trying to get some of luggage filled up with different clothes and combinations to wear before and after the necessary promotions with miu miu, grabbing a couple of miu miu clothes that she already owned prior as well as tossing a pair of flared leggings over her head. the sound of a trap beat is being heard from the tv in the living room serving as background noise only for her phone to ring off a notification that makes her stop what she’s doing.

at the same time, you were in the middle of your workout at your apartment’s gym, finishing up a set of pullups before you heard the vibration of your phone on the bench over the heavy rap song blasting over you. dropping from the bar, you walk to the bench where your gym bag and phone were at, fishing for the towel to wipe the sweat off of you, staring at the mirror of your body build. you kept yourself in shape, the tattoo on your left arm in all of its glory as well as the toned muscles from the shoulders, arms, and abs.

you look down at your phone to see the text from nayeon in the groupchat with the other members in your team for this assignment, the link attached from her message that consisted of the fashion week schedule, travel itinerary, and a few other things that you would look at later once you got back to your place.

so you grab your secondary phone for personal uses, showing a picture on the lockscreen of momo in her element during her concert that you snuck backstage with the home wallpaper being the slip of paper from the photobooth at the airport before texting sakura who was asking for your opinion on the beanies that she’s crocheting.

back at momo’s apartment, she plops back down on her moonpit couch, wiggling her feet along with the song in the background with two weeks worth of luggage ready at the kitchen island before getting another text notification, but this time it was from yoona.

you’re getting a post workout shake ready in the kitchen, drying your hair with a towel in your all black outfit of a simple oversized shirt and sweats, feet tapping along the hardwood floor while you subconsciously made a lap around the kitchen island waiting for the blender to stop mixing when your work phone gets another text that has you looking again.

momo reads yoona’s message, confirming the flight ticket to paris while your text gets the final confirmation of your next posting. the both of you smile at your phone screens that can only mean one thing while the both of you switched over to the message app in less than a millisecond.

you and momo are finally seeing each other again in another corner of the world.

the welcoming party at the paris airport wasn’t out of the ordinary.

if anything, it was actually a chill approach once you heard that momo’s team had landed from their thirteen hour flight. you, mingyu and keji were waiting for karina and tzuyu to loop back along with momo’s group.

“this should be a fun week.” mingyu says, rubbing his hands together that was clothed in woolen gloves.

“i feel like you’re not as enthusiastic unlike last time.” you reply, fixing your ear piece and turtleneck that had a sleek silver chain hanging around your neck.

“well, it’s been a while since we had you at the helm so—”

“y/n, why do you have jewelry on your attire?” keji asks while pointing at the chain that made mingyu stifle a laugh at the surprise question.

“keji, she’s the leader. she has some leniency with what she wants to do with herself.” mingyu answers the question for you, smiling from keji’s dumbfounded reaction.

“alright you two, that’s enough. we got eyes on twelve.” you say when you saw the small band of people approach you at the terminal door. the flashing lights and people clamoring left you unfazed as the secondary team of guards parted them away from the main centerpiece.

the paparazzi crowd presented momo to you that was straight out of a movie scene; she was layered in a thick leather hoodie with both hands in her pocket. even with sunglasses on to protect her from the bombardment of flashes coming from the cameras, you felt her eyes locked on to yours, that smug smile she always beared almost kicking you in the gut. just even in close proximity, there was a power that she held that made your world stop for just a second.

you catch yourself smiling, and this girl is gonna fucking drive you crazy.

flashing a look to mingyu and keji, the both got into a standard formation to slot themselves into the pack, keeping most of the fans and camera people at bay once momo got to the door on the way out. you look at your watch to ensure that everything was right on schedule and right at nine thirty on the dot, the momo frenzy has finally touched down in paris.

“everything’s holding up from back here.” karina says through your ear piece, waving her hand in the back row where you could barely see her.

“alright, prep the team for phase two.” you reply back, showing a hand signal that prompted karina to relay the message to the other workers that helped out guarding momo to disperse the crowd surrounding them, clearing a pathway the the entryway of the bulky black suv and opening the door for yoona and momo.

the two girls flash a look at you, even with a straight face you couldn't help but wink at the two of them—the notion of you being assigned to them again was a much needed reassurance before getting into the car. you’re already thinking of how to sneak away with the talk of the town in the city of love, but that will come for later.

it’s all the usual at this point, closing the car door before your assigned driver asks you about the hotel location in french, in which you reply back flawlessly with the matching language. momo takes of her hood and sunglasses while you were in the conversation, listening to how the french words rolled off your tongue like butter—biting her lip a bit at how damn good you were at your job.

“nice to see you two again.” you say looking back at momo and yoona sitting in the backseat smiling to see your face. “been a minute hasn’t it?”

“i was worried that you weren’t gonna be back in time for this, but thank you for being here.” yoona says to you, placing her bag in the middle seat between her and momo.

“please, this is what i do for a living.”

“and it’s also my job to keep your little secret relationship here under wraps.”

“yoona, you’re already doing so much as it is and we’re thankful for that.” you say to the manager, tilting your head off to the side while the car was rolling along the streets of paris.

“so what’s the plan y/n?” momo asks you, taking your ear piece out to reduce the back and forth chatter between karina and wonwoo on the radio channel. you hum while looking through the main windshield as the suv weaved at every turn and straight on the way to your next destination.

“the plan is to have you guys and my people checked in. after that, we’ll give you guys some downtime before going out to have dinner. since the fashion show isn’t for another day, you basically have a free day before the actual event, so whatever it is that you want to do is up to you or yoona for that matter.”

momo hugs her legs on the backseat, getting more comfy leaning next to the door. “there’s this restaurant somewhere around here, and they have some mean oysters that they serve. you think we can go there yoona?”

“sure, let's just get you situated in the hotel first before i put in a reservation.”

when your small convoy of cars arrives at the breezeway outside leading into the hotel lobby, you can immediately tell that the inside was subjected to a certain theme. none of the hotel guests seemed to bat an eye that a world famous celebrity was staying here given the increase of bodies in security when yoona was getting momo checked in at the main desk.

a 1950’s victorian theme was spread about in various areas of the lobby. the paintings on the wall, the couches and chairs for the guests to sit on have a more regal theme to them rather than saying old fashioned. you had a knack for a sense of nostalgia for an era of time that you weren’t even a part of let alone born in, but it was things like these that really kept you captivated—much so like getting lost in an art museum and momo knows this about you very well.

momo was already called over by yoona at the front desk to verify the hotel stay, then was shooed off jokingly while karina was with the manager to get your team situated too. planning and logistics, you thanked nayeon in your head for hiring karina in the first place who could handle all of the paperwork stuff. mingyu and wonwoo worked well together, so you kept it that way and sent them outside to keep on the lookout for jihyo’s team that she sent over while tzuyu and keji were with some of momo’s management and indulging in a lovey conversation.

and there you were, next to momo again, not showing any hint of your relationship with her whatsoever since you and her agreed to keep it a secret until after ‘work hours’ but that wasn’t limited to exchanging quick glances and looks so filled with love. the both of you were in your own element constantly to the point that even the simple acts of doing in and out of your job was more than enough for momo to be crazy about you too.

she sees you off in the distance, hanging near the elevators with another extra guard member that was with your team talking about details of guidelines and all that before the guard member stepped away from you to tend to something else. momo then points her phone towards your direction, zooming it in precisely that it gets you and the fancy vase full of white lilacs taking a picture that captured your back that was exceptionally shown from the blazer.

momo then edits this in her photos for what seemed to be a few seconds before she felt an alluring presence over her. “that pic isn’t me i’m assuming?”

“it is, you’re too fucking fine in that suit for me.”

"all for you baby, remember that." you reply, with momo looking up at you matching the same smirk on your face.

you knelt down to meet her gaze, the wolf cut in all of its glory along with her small hint beauty marks on both of her cheeks. those plump, kissable lips are making it dangerously hard for you to not steal a peck with everyone possibly watching.

"you look wayyyyy too good in casual clothes..." you say to momo, leaning into her face from your lowered position. "maybe we should just get away from everyone here, just the two of—"

“y/n, come up?”

pulling back with a defeated sigh as momo nicks a lock of hair behind her earlobe, you press on your earpiece to answer the comm.

“go ahead karina.”

“momo is officially checked in, but jihyo’s team just arrived outside the hotel right now.”

you look over to the front desk, yoona holds up a set of keycards before looking back to momo nodding that everything was all set up for her. the two of you meet with karina and yoona before the elevators, handing her the projected itinerary that was drafted up by nayeon.

“go on up to the rooms. jihyo’s team is taking over for your guys' dinner tonight.”

“what about you?”

“i’ll have to meet with whoever jihyo sent for this double assignment, but you guys have my number to keep in touch if something comes up.”

yoona nods her head, reminded by how much star power momo held with just her pure existence. giving momo a look before cocking her head to the elevators.

“we’ll see you guys soon, but enjoy your dinner.” you say while you and karina give the pair a small wave before walking away to the front doors of the hotel lobby to meet with jihyo’s bodyguard team.

knock knock

in your dark room that was only lit by the faint light of the lamp on your hotel desk, you couldn’t help but wonder who was at the door or why they would be knocking at this hour.

walking up to the frame and looking through the peephole, you see that no one was actually there—now you would just dismiss this and just plop black on the bed, but there was a premonition that someone was there that you just didn’t know.

so you open the door, unlinking the chain lock before opening it wider to see the welcoming body; only to be lunged at by the supposed intruder, arms linking around your neck while yours fall to a slim waist, their lips meeting with yours.

suddenly your back meets the wall of your hotel room, the taste and scent of peaches filling your senses on your nose and lips. the perpetrator pulls away from you for a quick breath before letting out a muffled moan into your mouth again, making your brain hazy from the feeling of their lips and your hands roaming all over their back.

“wha–” another groan passes through the small space between your faces. “what are you doing here?” you ask the person pinning you against the wall, smiling against their lips. a slip of your tongue was enough to incite a small moan, in addition to gripping their ass through the baggy jeans they were wearing.

they pull away, leaving your eyes half-lidded—their hands slowly receding away from your face while you add a bit of a tighter grip around their waist, rubbing the small divot in their lower back.

“i wanted to see you.” momo says sweetly, lowering her hood to reveal her bare face much closer to you, a soft smile across her lips that makes you dip your head down trying to resist the absolute cuteness that was displayed in front of you.

you’re grinning, hard, and you’re trying not to show momo how badly you’re folding as momo pulls you in for a hug–the kind of hug that’s suffocating you from the pressure, the one where you embrace your lover when you meet at the airport after being away for so long. you shouldn’t be this whipped for her, but you are, and that’s the reality.

“do you realize that you’ll get in trouble if they see us together?” you ask momo, the door finally closing from the hallway to shroud the both of you in darkness again before flipping the light switch to the hallway in your hotel room. “besides, it’s past your curfew and we have a busy day tomorrow already.”

“it’s okay,” momo assures. “i think you can be a little bit lenient with me can’t you?” wrapping herself around you again, catching another whiff of the calming scent of honey in her hair.

you sigh, melting at her touch. even if she was a little bit shorter than you, she knew how to make you vulnerable with so much sincerity and care—the best kind of protection in momo’s case really, “you’re really stretching your luck here momo, but i won’t be the one at fault if you don’t wake up in time later.”

“stretching huh? you can help me with that.”

“god, you’re something else.” you chuckle out. (you’re seeing what she’s implying here, but you’re not letting her get to you that easily.)

“so let’s go then. i wanna show you around for a bit.”

“and where exactly do you even plan on going at this hour? it’s almost midnight.”

“maybe if you get dressed, we can get going before the others realize that we’re not actually here.” momo assures, prompting you to change your attire into something more comfortable and inconspicuous. she sees your nike sports bra that’s covered by a shirt layered with an oversized hoodie, your legs that was occupied with sweatpants now in different color to help match the look along with your casual shoes that you used for morning runs.

finally you’re ready, and momo giggles at the sight of you fixing your shoes before you flash a very unamused look, closing the gap between your faces again before opening the door out to the hotel hallway.

“i’im giving us forty-five minutes, so this date better be worth it.”

it’s wasn’t really a bad scenario to be getting lost in the streets of paris at midnight.

the city is so much prettier at night. you’ve seen the pictures from various twitter accounts and pinterest posts, but to experience it live and in person was a completely different experience. you got lost in the various structures of architecture, the cobblestone pathways that were used as the main roadways, and even the vintage aspect of the closed stores and cafe shops.

a pretty night indeed, in addition to walking along with your extremely pretty girlfriend as well.

your hotel was a block away from the eiffel tower, and people were still out and about getting pictures and videos of the old landmark flash scattered lights that illuminate about every fifteen or so minutes. you and momo walk hand in hand along the parkside, talking about the many things that you two did over the summer while being apart, filling in on what the other has been up to besides texting and calling on a regular basis.

she’s taking pictures of you with the tower to share with your parents back home, you’re taking pictures of her—it’s all so candid and a much needed last minute date that was spontaneous. you didn’t want to consider it to be stress relief, but momo was a breath of fresh air in your life that was clouded with the constant loop of work, work, work, and work.

there’s a nearby night market in a plaza on the way back that caught the attention of momo. specifically, the vintage clothes that were hanging alongside the canopy on display and momo trying to negotiate which pieces to buy for her own closet while your held her handbag still in a guarding position, but with a much more relaxed stature. she’s laughing with the vendor, and you’re nothing but heart eyes for her.

forty-five minutes went by in a flash, and you’re back in the hotel hallway of momo’s room. your hand is laced with hers while the other was holding a paper bag filled with clothes that she bought from that market.

you’re at the door of her room, keycard pressed against the lock and she walks in, handing her the bag along with a few other items that you held onto for her which were just additional essentials. checking the time on your watch, it was almost one in the morning and the calltime to get everyone set up and ready was between 7 to 8, so it wasn’t too bad but you’re in no place to complain.

“thank you,” you breathe out, standing in the middle of the doorway like a girl scout selling cookies, staring at momo’s bare face again, her eyes open wide like boba balls with that same soft smile again. “i needed this, so much.”

momo doesn’t say anything, she just steps into your bubble again, arms enveloping you. every worry that you carried through your bones suddenly vanished at the presence of momo’s heartbeat next to your chest. her hands find themselves on both sides of your face, lips coming in contact with yours again, savoring any last bit you could before letting her off for the night.

“you are…” the words are muttering out of your mouth, momo’s lips brushing against yours as she hums, the feeling of her giddiness spreading to you. she pecks you again to shut you up.

“sometimes you talk too much y/n.” momo says, pushing you away and out of her door before getting ready to close the door. “get some rest babe, you’re gonna need it.”

before she could close the door on you, you lean for another kiss, “see you in the morning.” you say to momo, giving a quick one again before you’re waving her down the hallway. you didn’t have to say anything or need to, the actions you had spoke more louder than your words ever could and momo understood this, doing a little heel tap before entering the elevator down to your hotel room’s level.

the main event of paris fashion week, and this was just the opening.

“shin ryujin.” you say, clasping the younger woman’s hand with an iron grip, “last i heard, you were a liaison for jihyo and now look at you; primary team leader for her agency.”

“dreamt big, and got the promotion.” she beams, flashing glances to wonwoo and karina who were behind you in front of the hotel lobby waiting for the suv’s to arrive for today’s activities.

“i believe you know the plan for today y/n?”

“pretty much straightforward, you’ll be with us and we’ll meet with your people at the venue already.”

ryujin nods at the memorization, “are you sure that’s all?”

you nick your head off to the side with a laugh, “how could i forget about the after party activities?”

right on cue, yoona calls you from the spinning door, the rest of momo’s entourage walking out with momo already prepared in her look for tonight. it was a simple blue denim croptop and jeans that hugged all of the curves on her body in all of the right places. her back was exposed for everyone to see and her makeup didn’t look to be too extensive–much like a simple touch up and her wolf cut looked dashing when it was all properly styled, her bangs were a signature part of her look and my god she looked good.

okay, stay on task here, you shouldn’t be leering on the job anyway.

so you turn around to give the three people behind you a quick word, “you know the teams, you know the assignments, keep the radio channels open in case anything pops up. are we clear?”

“crystal.” ryujin and karina both say in unison, while wonwoo simply nods at you.

“good, let’s have a good day, people.” you say before dispersing into your respective cars heading off towards the venue for the fashion show.

when the group arrives at the venue, you immediately hear the murmurs from the crowds standing in the barricades increase to more screams once you open the door for momo to walk out. the entire place went bonkers as momo made her way past the red carpet, stopping for a photo op that showed her outfit again and the waves of flashes were just everything thrown at her all at once.

you stand off to the side, watching momo indulge in the limelight before she walks over to your direction after being prompted by mingyu to proceed walking indoors. momo flashes a smile at you while you raised your arm to the side to guide her past the door when ryujin comes up in your earpiece.

“y/n?”

“go ahead ryujin.”

“i got a text from karina, she said that their suv broke down on the way here.”

that can’t be good.

“how bad in terms of time are we talking?” you ask ryujin through your wrist, trying to mask the sound so that there’s no interference, walking indoors to better the quality of your talking.

“shouldn’t be that long, but we’re hoping that they can be here by the time the event is halfway over.”

“you’re saying that we’ll be short-handed by the time the after party rolls around?”

“sorry, you know this is out of our control.”

“i know,” you say with a hand raised up, trying to calm yourself down. “stick to the plan, i’ll get in touch with karina and them when i can.”

ryujin acknowledges before the earpiece goes silent again with exchanges from other guards from both of your teams. you weren’t the kind of person to be stressed with things like these, but you had an uneasy feeling that if things didn’t go to plan, it struck a bad nerve in your head.

strike one: have key members in your team deserted leaving you short-handed.

the fashion show however was well organized and thought out. the seating arrangements looked to be in a more open setting with no chairs, but stone seats with the runway already set up. you meet up with keji and tzuyu who were on the other side covering one of the exits, in clear line of sight where momo was sitting. she had her leg crossed over the other that was lady-like, and you observed her as she watched the models showcase the new fall/winter looks that were set to be released in due time.

“say, didn’t you do modeling y/n?” you hear keji ask you on your right side, earning a chuckle from you that helped ease your mind just a bit. “i could’ve sworn you should be walking on that runway too right now if you wanted to.”

“are you saying that i can serve like those girls in those oversized suits and dresses?” you ask keji as tzuyu giggles on the opposite end, causing you to roll your eyes at the two rookies that you brought onto this assignment. “maybe i can, but to answer your question, i did do a photoshoot while on vacation.”

“no way really?”

“i’ll save showing the pictures when all of this is over.”

once the showcase was all done and over with, momo was advised to attend the miu miu provided after party that included a dinner and various interactions with other celebrities. again, it wasn’t too crazy but the fact that tonight wasn’t swinging your way in terms of logistical planning, you had to be flexible.

the dining hall looked way more sophisticated that could be on par with the setup of the fashion showcase. it was more of a lively food spot with a bar attached rather than a usual restaurant, with a lot of seating arrangements spread out across. you find momo sitting in the middle of some fancy table alongside what you assumed was another brand ambassador that miu miu had invited out with wongyoung. their conversation seemed to be lively as the pair shared a smile together over the loud crowd of people around you.

you find yourself keeping a close eye on her from time to time throughout the dinner. momo looked fully immersed back at the showcase and the dinner, her eyes wide like saucers. she sneaks a few quick glances at you and you’re doing the same, through the camera flashes and your head moving like a swivel to ensure everything is in shape.

after everyone continued to enjoy themselves with the complimentary dinner provided by the fashion company and organizers, you get pulled off to the side by keji who played messenger via ryujin outside where the management and various workers were outside in a small pavilion.

“fill me in with what you got.” you say to ryujin, turning away from the two people that she was talking with—automatically assuming that they were her people that she brought over on this double-op assignment.

“you want the good news or bad news?”

“is there any difference between the two?”

ryujin giggles at the banter you’re effortlessly producing. “so bad news is, karina, mingyu, and wonwoo won’t be able to make it tonight.”

well, shit.

“the good news is! i have these two with me to help fill you in with the workload.”

you wished she hadn’t said that. because those two people that ryujin was talking with appeared right behind her—and you’re just forced to deal with it.

chanyeol, on her left may look like a saint, but you could tell that he was bad news. as for the person on her right side, was someone that you had a vendetta against. you definitely wished that karina and mingyu were in their place in addition to tzuyu and keji.

“heechul,” you say, “i didn’t expect you–”

“it’s good to see you too y/n,” the sickening man in front of you replies, “i admit that i screwed up, and i’m here to give a sense of consolation with this new role. i promise, my act is clean now, and it’s a new start for me. let me prove that to you and ryujin, please.”

your blood is straight boiling at the fact that you’re in the presence of this guy, but you have to focus on the task at hand and see the whole week assignment through, but you’re definitely gonna give nayeon a hearing once you get back from paris.

“now that you guys are acquainted, we’re getting wheels up in about fifteen minutes. y/n and heechul, i’m gonna have you guys grab momo and her team while chanyeol and i get the cars outside.” ryujin instructs you, pointing to the exit with her finger.

flashing a look at heechul, you cringe at the sight of his smile before rolling your eyes. “you can count on us ryujin.” heechul says before nodding himself off to get in the vibrant crowd. ryujin notices your expression and body language, sensing that something was off with you.

“is something the matter?”

“yeah, why the hell is he here with you on this assignment?”

“y/n, hechul was desprate for a second chance, and jihyo gave it to him.”

“but–”

“i’m aware of his past actions, but give him a chance.”

you sigh out, arguing wasn’t gonna make this assignment any better. “fine,” you say, “just this once.”

ryujin taps your shoulder before her and chanyeol both walk away from you. this day couldn’t get any worse as it is.

strike two: find out that one of your past workers is on the same assignment with you and gets you in a more pissy mood.

from the more expensive, regal fashion showcase and food spot, the location changes to a nightclub setting that was completely cleared out for momo’s entourage. the place named ‘crazy horse paris’ was also a nightly hotspot for club goers on a weekend basis—but this came as a surprise since one of momo’s songs just went platinum in the charts, so it was only right for another small celebration to be held.

in the midst of all the strobe lights flashing in the club with the firework candles in a cut out record of momo’s song, it was nice to let loose a little bit. the exchange of the provided dinner that was filling was no substituted with small snacks and alcohol. not bad for a successful fashion week outing right?

everyone makes the rounds of the plethora of drinks; beer, wince, hennessey, whiskey, there were a lot of people relaxing on this lovely thursday night. the loud music bumping your eardrums as you’re observing momo’s management taking shots, and even tzuyu and keji who were having a little bit of fun so you’re also keeping an eye on them.

your arm gets bumped at the bar while watching everyone lose themselves in the music from the dj, and you turn to see that ryujin is offering you a drink.

“you a heavy?” she asks, taking her offer of the glass of whiskey before raising her glass up for a quick cheers.

“i’ve had a couple already,” you reply, downing the burning alcoholic drink in one swig, placing the cup down on the bar before sliding it across for the bartender who nods at you for keeping him occupied. “that’s my last one though, can’t be having too much now.”

“that’s fine,” ryujin says, matching your stature with her body facing towards the dance floor, before she looks down on her watch to see that she received a phone call. “shit, i gotta take this, it’s jihyo.”

you nod her off, implying that you got everything covered for now but you realize that you haven’t seen momo since the cake celebration. “say, where’s momo?”

“she’s in one of the private rooms.” ryujin answers, pointing to the small pathway that leads down to the rooms that she just mentioned. you give her one more look as ryujin picks up the phone before heading out of the club outside to take the call.

not long after, you’re in the hallway of the private rooms, each one with their own door to give a sense of privacy for those groups who did buy it ahead of time. the first three doors were just various groups of people who were already in the club before you and momo’s team arrived, so you didn’t have to worry about them.

but then you were at door number four. and you could hear momo’s laugh through the cracked opening.

like the peeping tom that you were (it’s your job to be curious), you peer through the opening a little wider to see momo’s back facing you. she appeared to be dancing to the music that was playing from the tv speakers. her movements looked to be more alluring, seductive. the nerves in your brain are racking with so many questions to why and who is she dancing for. so you sneak in quietly to see two men on the couch, clearly enjoying the show that momo is giving them.

“you guys like what you see?” momo asks, her words are slurred together from the barely coherent sentence. the movement of her hands up her waist, showing off the curves from her different outfit that was a tank top with black biker shorts.

“i love what i’m seeing here ms. momo, a lot.”

that voice…there’s no fucking way right?

“why don’t you give us a little more skin honey?”

oh, this isn’t good at all.

momo hums out delightfully, taking off her tank top to reveal a skimpy white push-up bra, fiddling with the latch behind her with one hand before ripping off the undergarment from her body. you immediately shoot straight up, glaring at the two men sitting on the couch, their dress shirts slightly unbuttoned and momo turns around, her bare tits in full display. this was your nuclear bomb, and the explosion was imminent.

“christ, what the actual fuck you two?!” you spit out, the sight of heechul and chanyeol’s expressions shrinking away now that they’ve been caught. heechul’s caught in your wave of anger again, and this time was much worse than the previous incident.

“y/n, we—”

“oh, don’t play that card with me!” you begin, stepping closer to the two disgusting men that were now sitting up, preparing to hear an earful from you, shoving chanyeol into the cushions first before flying a fist to heechul’s face, giving him a proper black eye. “i’ve had enough of your bullshit today!” you yell out before tossing momo her discarded clothes. “put these back on, we’re leaving.”

“what? already?!” momo whines, half-sober, half-drunk. she’s definitely smashed, but there’s more pressing problems that need to be dealt with.

you grip her by the arm, pulling her closer to you before your hand snakes down to her waist. the harsh action making momo flustered at your touch when your face is extremely close to hers. the hoodie that she tossed is now being put on by you, giggling uncontrollably at herself because her arms are up in the air before setting the hood on her head to cover her up. “i think we should call it a little early, yeah? what do you think momo?”

“you’re a party pooper.” momo says, her eyes half closed, still smiling.

“unbelievable.” you say harshly, tensing your jaw again once you laid eyes on chanyeol and heechul, checking his fingers for blood on his face. you could do a whole lot more damage, but your words are the most powerful tool in your arsenal, and it won’t be ignored by the higher ups.

“let’s go.” the anger in your voice not reaching momo since she’s still chuckling even when you’re escorting her out of the private room and into the front of the bar of the club when ryujin comes back from her phone call with jihyo.

“woah, where are you taking momo?” she asks, puzzled at momo’s drunken state while she’s staring at your side profile.

“i’m taking her back to the hotel personally. she was in a private room with heechul and chanyeol giving them a show.”

“you’ve gotta be kidding me.”

“tell yoona that i’ve got this, we can deal with those two knuckleheads later.”

strike three: find out your girlfriend was almost taken advantage of by two absolute fucking clowns calling themselves bodyguards.

you’re dragging momo through the hotel hallway, listening to her hums as you place the keycard on the lock, pulling her in and slamming the door immediately after so hard that you might’ve just broke the deadbolt.

momo stands against the closed door leading to the bathroom, her head is somewhat ringing but still conscious to some extent about her actions realizing that she had done fucked up—

“do you have any idea of the amount of shit that you just put yourself in? letting those two fuckwads have their way with you and you’re just allowing it?” you exclaimed, giving no care for the other hotel guests with the amount of yelling that you’re doing already.

standing super close in front of momo, the roles are reversed from when she came to see you the day before and your overwhelming heat was slowly growing within—her cunt pulsing at the tone that you’re using as all that she could do was let out a small whimper, shrinking away into the door behind her.

“y/n," momo slurs out, "i—”

“one: you’re smashed. two: i might come under fire for what i did to bring you back here, and—”

you meet momo’s gaze to notice that her eyes were lidded, she’s doing that devilish smirk that’s tugging at the corner of her lips. looking off to the side before you force her to stand straight up, gripping her arm and shoulder, pressing her to the drywall even more.

momo presses her legs together, she’s never seen you this angry before, especially at her, and she’s liking it.

so with just a little push, you look at her again at the low groan she lets out, seeing that her bottom lip is retracted into her mouth with her teeth just peeking out.

don’t. break.

there’s an intensity through your eyes, bewildered at what you’re doing before the synapses in your brain fully registers what’s present in the moment, and what you’re going to do next, clenching your teeth before parting your lips after with a subtle smile.

you grab momo’s face that lets a small gasp out, letting this newfound opportunity tempt you with all of it’s weight, looking at the flushed cheeks and glowing complexion from the alcohol, scoffing at the state your girlfriend was in currently.

“maybe this bitch needs to have the attitude fucked out of her no?” you mutter, causing momo to moan out with the proposition before pulling her closer to your face, “you’re insane for making me like this, and now you’re gonna pay for it.”

yeah, you’re definitely insane.

strike four: teach your girlfriend how she should be handled after being stupid.

it only took a few steps for you to toss momo on the edge of the bed, her lower half hanging over on the floor as she tried to get up in an attempt to reposition herself, but you pin her down with your flat palm on her back, letting your hand feel out her tapered and exposed waist. momo swallows a gulp, still anticipating what you were going to do next, “feel free to stop me at any time, but you probably won’t do that because you’re liking this so much are you? prissy little slut.”

momo is still wrecked over the alcohol that’s pummeling in her head for now at least, but she hums softly while nodding to comply with the lasting boundary you’ve set up before stripping off your blazer and rolling up your sleeves.

she feels your hands on her waist again. the rigidness of your fingers makes her body shiver at how gentle it is initially, but the roughness behind it when you clutch the sides of her waist. your hands find the waistband of her shorts, pulling it off of her to reveal momo’s exposed ass and the skimpy black thong she was wearing under as well.

“first you give a strip show and you’re wearing a fucking string as your underwear? you reallyyyy want me to set you right don’t you?” you scoff as you knead momo’s ass with your one hand before giving a firm hit that sets the tone with how high-pitched momo’s yelp spills out of her lips.

there’s a firm red mark from the first strike, and you’re tilting your head at how your hand slightly stings from the slap, so of course you’re gonna go back for more. if she’s gonna act like a slut the way you found out what she was doing, how could you not give her the proper punishment that she deserves?

her ass is now beet red, and you’re biting your lip at the sight of momo’s legs wiggling on the edge of the bed and the whimper she’s sounding off like she’s asking to be used as a way to let your frustrations out especially the day you just had leading up to this.

you then rip off your dress shirt and toss it carelessly to the nearby seat next to the coffee table, and momo sees the white cloth hit the chair before you slide your hands up her waist underneath the hoodie you put on, feeling her breasts without the bra since she took it off back at the nightclub.

the shiver that seethes out of momo’s teeth when your fingers find her nipples, pinching the buds to tracing around her mounds with your fingertips before lightly scratching her chest that earns a string of breathy whimpers of being toyed around. "y-y/n, please--" she mumbles out barely.

you then lean over to momo’s side, hand sliding across her ass that catches the leaking arousal from her pussy, massaging her ass before giving it another harshful slap. “need me that badly huh?” you’re smiling against the cuff of her ear at what momo has become and you haven’t even slipped your fingers and tongue inside her yet. “gotta ruin you first, but i promise to take care of you after, be patient for me baby.”

momo’s face scrunches as you loosely press your lips to her face before sliding off the hoodie leaving momo completely naked on the bed still bent over, waiting to be fucked dumb by you.

“hands behind your back, stack your wrists on top of each other.” you say sternly, and all that momo can do is just comply with your commands, exhaling out in desperation but also eager the way she’s moving her head left and right with the lasting touches you’re giving her to her ass and folds with your single finger, smirking at how she’s shuddering.

you then unlink the belt from your pants, folding it in half before creating a small opening loop that creates a loud 'slap' of the fine italian leather. momo feels the grooves of the accessory and the coldness of the buckle before you give her a light hit at the same red mark that makes momo's legs squirm in the sharp, pleasureable pain.

"f-fuck-"

another two or three slaps follow after that.

"we learned our lesson yet?" you ask, gripping the nape with your head over to the side of her ear. momo throws her head back whining, fighting the pain coming from below and the throbbing in her pusling cunt that's all too present now. "yes y/n- it feels-"

"i'm not convinced with your answer." you say, noncomittal with your actions saying otherwise. you continue with a few more light slaps to give more leniency before wrapping the belt around momo’s stacked wrists behind her back before fastening it tightly, leaving a little bit of room for momo to move her hands around.

once both hands were bound together, momo feels a sudden stillness in the air, lifting the upper half of her body slightly to shift herself on the bed only to be pushed down by your hand on the small of her back just over her tied hands, looking over her shoulder to give your eyes the wonderful view of your girlfriend being submitted to the brand new y/n she managed to crack. the towering presence taking you to new heights. “wow, you do look good from behind.”

your hands start to shift over to the sides of momo’s waist, feeling the slimness of her figure before trailing down to the slopes of her ass, letting your fingers join together to cup them as momo squirms at the sensation of your cooling touch. she’s humming out a sound from her closed lips, almost like appreciative tone the way her side profile is hinting towards a smirk– “please, y/n, i need you—”

she needs this, and you’re considering the cards in your hand right now; give in and let momo have her way with you outstandingly topping her, or make her beg to get the drunk horniness fucked out of her.

so, you go with the second option.

“how badly do you want me inside?” you mutter, kissing the top of her rear shoulder blade before your lips start to canvas the small divot of her spine. “were the cameras at the show and the two guys leering at you not enough?”

“mmmph…” momo croons, hiding her face before you smack her ass again from the side this time, shooting her face out in response to the pain. “god, w-why are you—”

“answer the question babes, do you want me inside of you? yes or no?”

momo hides her face again, before letting out a whiny coherent sentence that you could barely hear, but you need to drag it out of her. “final warning, if you want me to give you what you want, beg for it. i need you to say it out loud for me.”

“y-you, you– you–”

“speak up love, i wanna hear your lovely voice.”

for two short seconds, you wait for an answer, and then—

“please baby, i want you now. i want you to fuck me with my hands tied till i won’t be able to walk. fuck, you’re such a tease, just make me yours.” she slurs out, but the neediness overpowered the alcohol in her system that makes it easy for you to understand.

while she was saying that, your left hand was already primed hovering over her cunt, the last bit of teasing—the best possible punishment that you could give momo as you’re fighting the urge to let your fingers dive into the heat.

“you already are.” you say, and dip the pads of your middle and ring finger into her cunt, letting momo find that searching ache- or, at least the sounds that were music to your ears as she cursed out a noise before shoving her face into the sheets, her fists clenching through the tied leather.

there’s no warning or preface, just the coaxed maneuver of your fingers all up inside her, twisting and turning against the slick leaving no remorse as you upped the pace. you know how momo likes it when you turn up the tempo of your thrusting hand, she’s swallowing hard and clenching her teeth because of it and she’s babbling to the point where you can sense the tension from her expression and increase of pitch in moans.

her eyes are closed throughout the entirety of the short time, considering how much you riled her up with your whole act of pinning her in the wall and the mattress to get her to almost cum, catching her hands slack from fists to near cupping hands. momo’s at her high, but you curl your fingers and slide out completely, tearing it away from her.

“n-no no, fuck what are you doing, i—”

you’re snickering as momo’s brows knit together before fluttering her eyes open darting to meet, pleading you everso to let her cum.

“don’t,” you warned, “i was easy on you before, but now i’ll treat you like the bitch that you deserve to be treated.” sliding your hand up slowly on the side of her waist while your other hand was grazing over the marked ass you created.

without warning, you smack her ass again that makes her yell out loud enough for the next door guests to hear, before subduing that with the soothing upward swipe of your flattened tongue that earns a hitched breath and a moan filled with satisfaction the way you’re lapping up momo’s soaked cunt for the time being–an act of generosity that is all a facade that’s part of the play for now.

“mmnh–” you groan against the searing core, all that you want to, “so fucking good baby.”

momo gives you a subtle “mhm hm” with her eyes still closed, biting her lip at the feeling of your mouth on her swollen pussy before the intensity increases with your two fingers now inserted into play.

you almost get caught off track with the amount of time you indulge yourself with momo’s pussy bent over against the bed, palm and fingers splayed on her lower back as the other hand is working along with your tongue working to get her close, then again stopping once the hitched breaths are near its peak.

pulling away with a kiss and a bite to the inner thigh, momo squirms again when she realizes that the feeling of your fingers and tongue are no longer there, only to be substituted with your moving hands on her hips, pulling her up to the bed and deepening her arched back. her knees are already bent like they’re kneeling that opens up her pretty, puffy pussy lips. the sight alone makes you want to frame it in a sex museum, but this is momo’s pussy, your pussy to tear up, and no one else’s.

leaving teasing touches with just your fingers dancing along the slopes and curves of her body, you go at it again with another quick round, pumping inside of her that makes her come close to her climax again, snatching it away in quick successions, you’re also planting marks on her back while you listened to the heavenly moans that cancels out the frustrations you had earlier today while on the job.

momo is going to be so thoroughly fucked, left breathless when you finally set her free from the tied belt, her wrists marked red from how much she rubbed the leather against her skin.

“flip,” you order, “and don’t even think about moving. i’ll put you how i want you to be.”

in the hopes of you letting her cum (for the first time tonight at least), momo follows your demands, doing exactly as she’s told by flipping herself over, barely able to prop herself up on her elbows, as you give teasing kisses to her chest, working your way up to her mouth that eases her mind for just a bit.

“arms up.” and momo listens as a smirk forms at the corner of your lips against hers, your hand fishing for the necktie while your face was occupied. you then straddle momo over her chest, wrists crossed at the top of the headboard with a small knob that was perfect for you to wrap around with the tie, securing it firmly but also just leaving with enough room for momo’s hands to move around (you were liking it when you see her squirm with her hands.)

once that was set, you then meet your gaze with hers, giving another sensual kiss for a few seconds before trailing down to the hollow of her throat, leaving light marks before crossing off the mental checklist in your head of how to push momo’s buttons.

hands on breasts, massaging them with the addition of the mouth on her nipple, causing her to moan at the contact, stimulating as your rough palms glide over and below her upper chest. momo’s cunt is throbbing uncontrollably from the few times you’ve edged her and how you’re doubling down your efforts in overestimation is clouding her mind from the relentless pleasure she received from tonight so far.

“we liking this, are we?” you murmur against her skin.

“please, god i– nmh”

“all of this riling and you still want me to do something about it? pitiful.” you laugh before leaving another dark mark on her torso.

“i won’t like it, i swear— wanna be ruined….just fucking destroy me…” momo sighs out, her eyes blinking repeatedly as your gaze shifts lower and lower until you finally reached to her swollen, soaked cunt. “y/n—” she’s begging so much more than before, and you almost feel bad. "please, wanna cum so bad..."

“shhh, maybe.” you mutter over her face for another chaste kiss to her cheek and jaw. “we think we deserve it now?”

momo can only whimper at the question as you give her a meaningful kiss that was gentle, her body easing from the tension of your touch as a flick of your tongue across her lips, relaxing for just a moment before you pull away.

the sight of her bent over for you was enough to get off on, but when you look at momo’s gaze—the way she’s leaking neediness: her lips are swollen, chest heaving with heavy breaths, cheeks tinted with a highlighted pink redness all over, her eyes are nearly crossed from your kisses like she’s dizzy for more.

momo’s eyes flutter shut once again as you kiss her cheek, the small area behind her ear that she adores you for letting her know that you’re still pushing all the right spots together the more you move further and further down to her hips—where her cunt awaits as she feels your lips moving closer from her inner thighs.

sensitivity was something that you were hyper aware of, honing in your ears to the sounds and breaths that really makes momo cry out, praying that you’d give her what she wants. the pecks were then exchanged for the sudden surge once your lips finally latch onto her pussy, and momo bucks her hips forward while your hand hooks onto them, keeping her in place.

you’re letting her find it, tongue and mouth swirling and humming in all the ways you know that makes momo crazy. her thighs are pressed against the sides of your head, prolonging the sensation with your nose buried into her clit. you feel the tension building up within her—right where the sounds are at the apex—and you shift your head off to the left suddenly, yanking the orgasm away once again.

“that’s my girl.” pulling back to mutter against her leg, looking upwards to see momo’s head rolled back, and her wrists are fighting against the tied fabric from their crossed ‘X’ position.

“y/n, please.” she begs again, “you’re so– so bad, baby i can’t—”

you’re trailing your mouth up her body again, hands grazing the fine line hinted at her abs. “so amusing…” you mutter out, running a finger along her jawline from the end of her jaw to the tip of her chin. “dripping from being worked up so much by me…”

a hand is combing momo’s tangled wolfcut, and your head is at an angle with the most devilish smirk as your kneecap touches the heat between her legs, running your hand to feel the seeping slick that’s coming out of her, and another whiny remark is let out at the reeling notion of your touch.

“fuck, just ngh– i’m– can’t be nmh—”

she’s speaking complete nonsense at this point, and you can’t ignore the remarks at this stage now. your lips retreat from nibbling her ear lobe as your hand works simultaneously, inserting into her folds again that leaves momo shaking. more marks are now seen across her body from her neck to her chest, fuck they might as well be bruises at this point the way you’re just chewing away at the enticing body that’s lying under you.

another harsh bite sends momo screaming, keeping your mouth occupied with the three digits already pumping in her, a subtle nudge of her clit with your thumb that has momo somewhat say your name loudly, eyes rolled all the way back with her mouth wide open, she might just go numb at this point.

“such a good fucking girl mo, take it like the pretty slut you are…”

the breathy pants get a lot bigger in the hotel room as you thrust mercilessly into her, it’s all instinct at this point as one more push was good enough to get her across and she finally cums all over your fingers after all that degrading and teasing you’ve put her through, hips shivering as her ass is off the mattress.

“hnngh! oh fuck!, god i’m cumming, c-cumming–”

it's so hot when you're like this for me.

momo’s high was only short lived when your lips are on her nipple again, nibbling on the bud with a little more ferocity as her elbows try to tense forward, but the necktie holding her on the headboard keeps her from buckling in. it sends a short circuit through her entire nervous system.

no chance to recover for momo, shaking her head with her teeth clattering against itself, you continue to mark up her chest again, leaving a noticeable bite mark on the rim of her shoulder. momo starts to see sparkles in her head, and her vision starts to zone out. this was a first for her being used like this, used by you; for your own benefit to completely have control over.

“god, shit– wai—no–pleas–” she tries to cry out, voice nearly breaking, and her face is scrunched up to the maximum.

“you can tell me to stop mo, do you want that?”

you can only see momo’s heaving chest rising and falling at an alarming rate, but she shakes her head with her fists clenched through the necktie. “i’m giving you what you want, so fucking deal with it.”

momo has gone multiple rounds with you before; but after being edged to the point where she could just cum in quick successions? you’ve managed to learn that about her body faster than she realized, which is impressive to say the least, one of the many tricks you’ve managed to master. so you bite her nipple again, inciting a moan and her legs close around your hand, wiggling your fingers sliding in and around her walls to get her going again in no time.

a litany chorus of your name being sung through her vocal chords with a mixture of a cry breaking through in between shaken breaths, and momo is trying everything in her power to just see it through—even if tears are starting to stream down her eyes. her walls clamp down on your fingers again, pumping through it, but now you leave a trail of nibbles down her body again before shifting to the lower part of the bed and back to her cunt, joining your fingers with the swipe of your tongue.

“no—no no no, wait, bab- y/n– fuck, go easy p-please, i’m sensitiv–”

“i could care less of a shit if you can’t handle it anymore, you owe me a good meal.”

you’ve got four fingers in her at this point, and while you’re surprised by the stretch and the liquid sounds coming out of her fucked pussy, momo has blown past the point of no return, and you’re feeding into that as you slide your fingers out, letting your mouth finally have it’s chance to finish the job.

momo closes her legs around you again reflexively, but this time the pressing in between her heat was powerful enough for her to take your head off since she managed to crack your neck slightly.

you growl out at the act, pulling her legs apart before sliding your hands up to the bottom of her calves, raising both of them upwards for you to have free reign in shoving your face deeper into her cunt, tongue licking up the sweet arousal with no restriction. there’s a slight resistance, and you bite lightly to the side of her swollen lips.

“n-no more, please–p-pleas—”

“baby,” you tell your girlfriend who is completely fucked by your mouth, growling with a kiss to her asscheek, “keep your fucking legs up.”

momo can’t do much, nor that she had a say or fighting chance to do so. you’re holding her down as you eat her out, the pent up aggression and anger that you had for all of the things gone wrong clearly taken out on her. she lets out a piercing scream, (much more like a screech the way she’s shaking under your touch) and feels her body go limp, mind clearly passed from consciousness barely as she finally cums in your mouth, cleaning up her cream with your tongue, humming with the craving fully fulfilled while you help set momo’s legs down.

you give her pussy one last chaste kiss, before wiping off the last remnants of her cum from the bottom of your lips with her tongue and finger, sucking on it earnestly to prolong the taste. you’re panting out from exhaustion, and the entire lower half of your face is soaked, but the sight was all well worth the reward.

momo’s tied hands fall slack from the headboard, her head is off to the side, her eyes are closed, cheeks flushed pink with parted lips in inconsistent, labored breaths. her entire body is marked all over; the hickeys and bite marks are basked in glory of the light from the lamp, her thighs are pressed together, rubbing, hiding the additional marks on her legs and her clearly swollen pussy that’s also red.

you run your hand up her thigh again, and she whimpers at the slightest touch. every part of her body is either bucking or twitching as all that’s heard from momo’s lips was shaky breaths, the sensation hasn’t settled in her body or mind with the amount of back to back to back to back to back orgasms she had in one go. this might be a brand new record between the two of you and she looks way more ethereal the way she is just left in an absolute mess.

“fuck.” your mind was having trouble conjuring up the proper thoughts, your heart drawing these stuttering breaths that might seem unhealthy, the wave of hunger and lust finally peeling away from you. “fucking amazing.”

leaning over her, you untie her hands, holding them together as you shift momo over more into the bed, wrapping your arm around her as she’s still trembling from what just happened. “i’m proud of you momo, my pretty girl…crazy that you could handle all of me…” you sigh out, rubbing your thumb over her cheek, her eyes are still closed but she lifts a small smile of praise while you showered her with light kisses.

an intrusive thought washes over and you shift yourself away from momo’s lying body, setting yourself slightly on top of her but still on the bed, trailing your kisses from her exposed collarbone up to her neck—your lips catch the taste of salt from the tears that were streaming down from her face earlier, and she sniffles a bit when you wipe them away with a soft smile of appreciation.

“so fucking pretty.” you mumble out, and momo’s lidded eyes meet yours; the gaze softened when you start to rub your hand on her hip to help soothe the soreness as she used her remaining energy to lean up and lock lips with yours again. her hand resting on your shoulder as you plant more pecks along the line of her chin, the way her small fingers are slotted against your neck so modestly. “god, you’re so good to me…”

whenever momo wakes up from sleeping or a nap, her nose is always the first sense that picks up the tasty scent of food, it isn’t any different this time today.

she’s laying on her side, on the farthest end of the bed, eyes fluttering along with a slight headache from however many drinks she doesn't remember having from the night before. the familiar weight of your body absent behind her as she tries to sleep off the tingling that still lingers through her body, but she eventually moves around under the covers to notice that she’s wearing a hoodie now–the same hoodie from last night.

momo hears a faint conversation down the small walkway to the outside of the hotel room, but your voice was all familiar with that smooth and swift tongue speaking in french before the locks of the door are heard again.

you walk over with a tray, setting it down on the coffee table next to the bed before shifting your look towards the bed seeing momo’s face.

“you’re up.” you greet her with a gentle tone, one that is very very light-hearted whenever it’s just you two together. momo turns to her side again, prompting you to walk over to the far end of the bed, kneeling over give a few quick kisses on her cheek before fixing her disheveled hair.

“got you some breakfast, c’mon get up.” you say, “we have a free day to do whatever with the rest of the team later.”

a small giggle is heard from momo’s nose, before she doesn’t move to get up, rather scrunch up under the bedsheets protecting her like a little kid that’s scared of a monster. “um, can you carry me? i kinda can’t feel my legs…”

you look back with parted lips, forming a smile after with a laugh, “of course baby, anything for you.”

the hotel room service breakfast is pretty much normal just like any hotel. just your usual eggs, sausage, bacon, french toast, some waffles or pancakes, and a mix of fruits. you already finished half of your plate and now feeding momo a slice of the syrup drenched breadstick. “good, right?”

momo hums as she finishes up the last bits of her plate, the last thing was the glass of apple juice that was now put on the table. you wipe your face with a napkin before staring at momo again who just shys away since you’re staring at her for a little longer than usual.

“is there something on my face?”

“there is.” you answer, leaning over to kiss her on the cheek that had a little bit of whipped cream from the belgian waffles you two ate. momo blushes when you pull away and you’re wiping the corner of your mouth with your thumb. “there, all better.” you say with a smile, getting up after.

“wait,” momo says, and your attention is on her again. she has her arms up with her legs on the seat of the chair.

“momo wants uppies?” you say cutely, and momo just nods. so you pick her up from the seat and set her on the bed, fixing up the covers to get more situated. it was a little early and most of the activities would be in the afternoon, so it wouldn’t hurt to just chill for a bit.

“sorry about last night…” momo says, twiddling her fingers together. “i got carried away with the drinks.”

“it’s okay.” you respond, kissing her hand to comfort her. “was i too much last night?”

“no, i actually liked it…”

“that so?” you ask, teasing momo as you move closer in the bed. “i don’t want to be the one to have all the fun, you know.”

“well, you can.” momo admits, and you’re folding yet again crawling on top of her, pecking her lips as momo melts into putty again, mumbling against her lips,

“expect more of that from me then.”

“what did you say to me again last night? that i made you insane?” momo responds, stealing another kiss from your stoic face. “i think you may be right.”

“what if we told yoona that we want to make this relationship public? i don’t wanna hide this anymore.”

momo ponders for a quick second, before locking onto your eyes again. “if we did, then everybody is gonna go–”

“insane.”

#saiiidahyunee #kpop x reader #twice x reader #twice imagines #twice smut #kpop smut #hirai momo #twice momo #momo smut #momo x reader

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wlwthewisp · 2 years

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topification via sexual trauma

#i realize top/bottom jokes were already done to death 5 years ago #but those were all just treating it like a personality test instead so w/e 9w8 in the streets 8w9 in the sheets etc etc #words

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prettiestgrlinthemorguexo · 4 months

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Swipe (Lucifer Morningstar x reader smut)

We finally made it to the last and final part of Swipe! And it’s the smut chapter. I’m so happy so many of you guys love my work and I’m so excited to see write for Lucifer, Alastor and vox in more five and ofc ill people’s request!! They are always open!!

IF YOUR NOT +18 PLEASE LEAVE AND DONT READ!

Reader is implied female but I will continue to use they/them

I legit foam at the mouth for submissive bottom Lucifer and you all have to suffer :)

Warnings:Smut, lots of smut, p in v sex, oral (giving ),titty sucking, sub! Lucifer, soft Dom! Reader, Lucifer being a constant king, reader is the same height as our short king, dick ridding, edging, marking, bitting, creamie pie (USE PROTECTION)

⛧☾༺♰༻☽⛧ ⛧☾༺♰༻☽⛧ ⛧☾༺♰༻☽⛧

No ones POV

Y/N felt the smoke engulf them both, they shut their eyes tight. In only a few seconds they were no longer in the street, they were now in a room he room was in a circler shape with a bed in the upper center of the room. As they were taking in their new surroundings, they felt Lucifer’s arms tighten around their waist and felt their feet lift off the ground. Y/N gasp lightly feeling him pick them up and carry the over to large bed.

Y/N felt the bed and its satin sheets consuming them, when Y/N’s body hit the bed Lucifer made his way on top of them looking down at them. Lucifer’s eyes were glistening, begging for their permission, permission to feel them inside and out…

Y/N smiled deviously, grabbing the collar of his shirt, whipping him onto his back. He could barely react before Y/N was on his straddling him. Lucifer’s face turned a dark red at his, he could already feel his pants tighten up. Y/N looked down at him, their now hooded eyes looking down as his widen one, begging for more. “Stay still..” Y/N said to him before standing up. Lucifer nodded as he’s eyes never left there, until they reached for the hem of their shirt, pulling off their shirt. Lucifer’s eyes widen, “fuck..” he whispered softly. He could feel his blood rushing to his cock.

Y/N’s eyes never left his, they could see him already getting riled up. They smiled as they pulled down their pants, Y/N now stood in from of him in only their bra and panties. “Take off your shirt.” Said to him, it wasn’t a request, it was closer to a demand. Lucifer was quick to unbutton his shirt, this motions were eager. As he finished unbuttoning his shirt, throwing it in an unknown direction, Y/N made their way back to the edge of the back standing over him. They couldn’t help but notice to bulge in this pants. Y/N smiled as they got between his knees. Rubbing his bulge. Lucifer left out a breathy moan, it’s been so long since he’d last felt his with someone.

“May I?” Y/N asked as their fingers danced around the button of his pants. “Yes please..” Lucifer said in w almost beg, nodding his head. Y/N bite their lips and they were quick to undo his pants, they begin to pull his pants down, along with his boxers. As they did Lucifer’s cock sprung to life, sticking up. Y/N’s eyes lit up at the sight. He was about 8 inches and with a little bit of girth. Y/N could help but feel wet at the sight of Lucifer laying on the edge of the bed, cock hard begging to be pleased.

One of Y/N hand around the base of his cock the other was rubbing his thigh. Lucifer shivered at their touch, It was intoxicating. Before he knew it he felt their hot lips kiss this tip, already leaking with Pre-cum. Lucifer couldn’t help but moan out at it, before he could process it, Y/N took the head of his cock in their hot wet mouth.

Y/N couldn’t help but move their head down onto his cock, taking him inch by inch, tasting his sweet pre-cum. “Y/N…” Lucifer moaned out, his hand making his way down to their head, feeling their soft hair. Slowly Y/N moved their head up and down, taking every inch. Nearly every time they moved their head he left out a symphony of moans, ranging from little begs, small curses and their Y/N’s name. “Fuck Y/N!” He was moaning their name like a prayer. Y/N couldn’t help but start to feel wet, they moved their eyes up as they sped up the past, their hand stroking the base of their cock. They watched Lucifer’s face, a flushed red face, an expression of pure pleasure.

Lucifer’s once gentle hold on their H/C hair now was a desperate grip, a fist full of their hair. Lucifer couldn’t help but thrust softly into their throat, chasing that sweet release. Y/N could tell he was close to painting their throat white, before he could, Y/N removed him from their mouth with a small little ‘pop!’. Lucifer let out a moan closer to a whine, feeling the pleasure stop. The wetness in Y/N’s panties started to become unbearable. They stood up as they unclipped their bra letting it fall to the ground. As they got onto the bed removing their panties, their naked body now completely exposed to them. Lucifer’s face was flushed, cock aching for them.

Y/N slowly go onto him hovering over them. Lucifer’s hands quickly made their ways over to their waist. His claws pressed against their skin, leading to Y/N letting out a breathless moan. Y/N’s eyes met his again before slowly easing their wet pussy down this cock, they let out a moan at the foreign feeling. Y/N’s could feel themselves get stretched out, slowly but surely, every inch of Lucifer was in her wet cunt.

Lucifer looked at Y/N’s beautiful form, their flushed face and perfect body…it was all them and he loved every inch, his eyes full of want and desire. As he watched as them got comfortable to his size, his eyes found his way to their boobs, they were like a drug drawing him in. Before he could even process what he was doing he leaned up making their left nipple in his mouth, moaning and circling his tongue around it. Y/N moaned at the new feeling, it felt so good, the feeling giving her the energy to start to move.

Y/N started to move up and down Lucifer’s cock. Lucifer could help but moan softly bitting down on their breast. Y/N continued to moan and move up and down, feeling his tip hit their cervix. It felt so perfect. After keeping that pass for a while, Y/N began to speed up moving faster. Lucifer dug his nails into theirs hips. His mouth finally pulled away from their breast, seeing teeth and bite marks. His eyes were dark now, filled with Lust.

As Y/N sped up, Lucifer began to thrust into her, they both moaned at the feeling, a feeling of pure pleasure. Lucifer’s nails began to dig his nails deeper and his small thrust speeding up, Y/N knew he was close. As she moved with him, they grinder their body as-well. After a few more seconds, Lucifer came hard, filling them up. As he came he bit down into her shoulder, letting out a loud moan. Y/N moaned more feeling him bite, even after he came he didn’t stop thrusting.

Y/N moaned feeling the continuous thrust. Soon Lucifer pulled away from their shoulder. His teeth stained with blood from the deep bite on your shoulder. He wrapped his arms around their waist, Y/N’s body pressed against his own, soon Y/N’s Moans became more desperate, their body shacking…they were close. Lucifer didn’t stop. After a few more thrust between the two, Y/N came around Lucifer’s cock. Letting out a loud moan, their chest rising up and down. After Y/N orgasm, Lucifers upper half fell back onto the bed, pulling Y/N with him.

After laying their in the blissful after glow of their love making, sweat coating the two. Y/N was the first to speak up. “I think I can get used to this..” they said quietly with a soft laugh. Lucifer couldn’t help but smile at their words before kissing their head. “I think we both could..”

TAG LIST

@reverse-soe @kazurami14 @netheris @musicb33nsstuff @rainycloud858 @yaimlight @erissco @pooplyface1423 @bonthefuckjourx

#x reader #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin hotel x reader #lucifer morningstar x you #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer morningstar #fanfic #smut

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jeanbie · 3 months

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SWEET UNWIND ★ masterlist.

pairing: levi x reader

warnings: sexual content, unprotected sex, rough sex, creampies, foodplay, grumpy & sunshine, fem!reader, piv sex, silent sex (little dialogue) | wc: 6.1k

note: proudly inspired by the insatiable thoughts i had while watching charles bake his cake and kill people in "the brothers sun". also i got cheated on and felt horny, so turned to my favourite cartoon man for relief

⏤ When Levi's not working, he likes to take things slow, and as of late, he's found that baking desserts is an excellent way to unwind. Yesterday, he made a beautifully sweet strawberry drizzled cake with cream. On today's menu, his personal favourite: cream pie.

Gangnam, Seoul; five to midnight, the city turning in for the night as bold and bright lights flicker to life, the streets lined with neon glows that on the waterfront look like blurry fireworks. While constant lines of traffic come and go, honking and revving at the lights as they hurry to wherever they need to be next, Levi switches off the egg-timer that blares to life loudly and sets it down on the kitchen island.

Behind him, baking in the oven with a warm and golden glow, is the sponge for his lemon drizzle cake. He glances up at the TV screen across the room and watches as one of the contestants drizzles extra veins of lemon curd across a wide canvas of white meringue cream, then looks back at his own display of ingredients.

First, he heads to the oven and using the oven glove, he pulls down the door and extracts his top sponge layer. Immediately, Levi sets it aside to cool — too hot and the dollop of cream that will spread into his smooth centre will melt and dribble off like water.

When Levi’s not working, he likes to take things slow, and as of late, he’s found that making desserts is an excellent way to unwind. It’s a simple step-by-step process where the final product produces something he can feel proud of, and something he can enjoy with a cup of tea or even something stronger.

He’s found over the last three years or so of baking that a hard liquor blends well with cheesecake, one with crumbled biscuits as a garnishing layer. Bailey’s accents any type of chocolate dessert almost too perfectly, and even does well inside of one. Last Christmas, for example, Levi enjoyed a whole chocolate truffle infused with the alcohol all to himself.

Baking takes a level of concentration that actually requires very little of him, and being able to see something he’s made all on his own at the end of it all can often be more rewarding than the stakes in the real world, outside of his entirely too fancy penthouse apartment. His job is often too demanding, too vicious, but coming home with a bag of ingredients that will eventually transform into something beautifully delicious feels like he’s turning a switch and stepping out of one life into another.

Outside, out there in the harsh city, Levi Ackerman is a force to be reckoned with, a danger to those outside of his inner circle. But here, inside his home, his fortress, he doesn’t have to be anybody but himself — Levi Ackerman, the man, the neighbour, the dessert enthusiast.

Now that the sponge has cooled and the decorations have been sliced and prepared, Levi takes to assembling his own version of the British Bake Off lemon drizzle cake. Instead of it being baked as a tray bake, Levi’s followed the same style as Mary Berry herself; circular, smooth and comfortably petite.

He takes the cream he prepared before and slaps it with a wet plop on the bottom layer of sponge, smoothing it out with the flat-knife until he’s satisfied with the coverage. Then, he uses a spiral technique to create a lemony blend to bite into.

He spares a single glance at the swirling iron staircase leading up to the upper floor of his apartment when he hears movement, a simple and quiet rustle of sheets and an equally low-volume groan — a stretch of some kind. Then, he looks back at his cake and sets the top sponge over the finalised inner workings of his cake and gets to work on the pipework and decorations.

It is so easy for him to get lost in the craft. One minute rolls into five and rolls into ten as he perfects the lemon slice arrangement on top of the cake. He even prepared some lemon gratings beforehand and uses them as a powdery layer on top of the smoothed out blanket of cream. Once everything is in place, Levi looks back up at the TV and watches the contestants present their final results to the judges.

Back and forth — his eyes move from their cakes to his. He thinks his cake would have earned him Star Baker that week, that’s for certain.

Even though Levi chooses to bake after work to dispel the tension building up in his bones, he still doesn’t feel completely satisfied with his work today. The cake is as good as he can get, especially when it’s his first real attempt at a lemon drizzle. But an ache lingers in his shoulders, a buzzing feeling of discomfort in every joint and muscle.

Today has just been extra hard. One dessert won’t suffice.

After a long haul of tracking down one of the leaders of a local crime organisation known as the Hannam Tigers, and successfully putting a few of his henchmen in early graves, Levi knows that one small cake won’t be enough to satiate his irritation for the night. In his line of work, things went wrong sometimes, even when they were annoyances he could do without.

The Hannam Tigers operate in a network of highly trained men with highly decorated backgrounds, and even with Levi’s colourful skillset, it can be a challenge to rid them from the world.

Levi rinses his hands under the tap and uses a cloth to dry them, catching the final portion of the competition on TV before tossing the cloth to the side and dumping his utensils into the sink. For now, he focuses his attention on the assortment of ingredients he’s set to the side to make his all time favourite dessert.

But first, he’ll need to head upstairs.

With what he needs in his hands, Levi escapes the kitchen before it swallows him into creating more and more desserts and then climbs the staircase curling up into the upper floor. Up here, there is a study that he barely uses — not because of his incompetence to utilise it, but instead for a general lack of need, considering he prefers a much more physical and hands-on approach to what he sensitively calls his ‘career’ — a small bathroom and his bedroom, which he heads for and catches a glimpse of the glistening city from the window inside, the door ajar.

Inside, he takes a few steps forward and sets his things down, looking up to make out your shape in the swamp of black bedsheets. He can barely see you in the dark, but you groan and make your presence known, sitting up on your elbows to peer at his silhouette cast by the light from the hallway.

“You finished your cake?” you ask, your voice tired but nonetheless sweet, caring, genuinely curious.

Levi makes out your face in the dim light and waits until his vision settles. Once he sees you more clearly and sees the smile on your face, he nods simply and looks back down at his messy pile of ingredients.

You arch up a little higher to see what he’s looking at.

“Bring any for me?”

Levi doesn’t look up. “No.”

“Rude,” you reply, amused and unable to make out what he’s arranging neatly on the ottoman at the bottom of the bed. “I happen to like lemon drizzle.”

He knows. That’s why he picked that episode to watch, those ingredients at the store.

“I don’t,” he replies. Levi’s not a fan of lemon anything, really.

The door behind him creaks ever so slightly, the light widening across the room. You sit up straighter, watching him as he falls into a carefully analysed breakdown of his mystery items.

“Can I have some later?” you ask, filling the silence with conversation. If you strain, you might make out the next episode of Bake Off beginning to play, but you search for Levi’s signature noises instead; his silent yet attentive laughs from his nose, the grunts under his breath, unbothered hums of his attention and or interest.

Levi looks up then, and rolls up the sleeves of his white dress shirt. His blazer is downstairs hanging off one of the bar stools under the kitchen island, his shoes by the door. Now, he’s just dressed in whatever he came home wearing — there hadn’t been time to change, what with you slumbering like a princess in his bedroom.

It’s a good thing he likes you, otherwise the lights would have been on and his work clothes off. Instead, he left you to it, heading for the kitchen when he came home and switching on his complimentary British Bake Off episode to accompany him in his regular routine of baking.

“I only made it for you,” he tells you.

You arch an eyebrow — not that he can see, anyway. “Oh, really?”

He gives you a hum, thoughtless. You rearrange yourself under the sheets.

“I thought the whole point was to eat the dessert yourself after making it,” you say, filling the quiet moment with something as he skims his gaze over the ottoman again.

He doesn’t look up when he says, “Well, I haven’t finished baking yet.”

“Oh?” you reply. “Something else cooking?”

“Yes,” he says. Then, he rounds the bed slightly from the right and whilst looking at you, he climbs up onto the bed with his knees.

“What’re you making?” you question, a grin widening over your face as he looms near. You feel his hand just miss your leg under the sheets as he lays his hands flat on the bed, lifting his weight closer to you all whilst maintaining an unnaturally cool composure.

If you didn’t know him any better, you’d think he was bored by the entire exchange. His face is covered in shadows, and yet you can still see the slipping shift of something in his eyes as they catch in the light from the windows.

Levi’s face reanimates in the city lights, now not far from your own. He curls his fingers around the bedsheet and tugs it down, exposing your legs to the cool shift of temperature in the bedroom. You shudder, leaning your head back until it softly hits the wooden headboard.

“Pie,” Levi says.

“Mmm. I love pie,” you comment.

He grunts, another one of your favourite Levi-sounds.

His hand shifts from the bed to your leg. In the dark, everything feels more pronounced; his ever-so-slightly rough palm smooths across your thigh and down your leg, past the knee and down towards your ankle. Once caught in his grasp, he manages to pull you from your sloped position against the headboard and back down into the pillows. He knows you're wearing nothing else from the waist down — all the more reason to tug you down and snatch a glimpse of what he knows is his.

“What kinda pie?”

Levi finds your eyes again in the dark, and you’re not sure if he planned it, but now you can see his face in a spectrum of light. His expression is flat, toneless, yet intrigue dances across his eyes as they wander across your face, down past your neck, and down to the exposed skin of your chest from underneath one of Levi’s shirts you stole from his drawers.

He says nothing for a moment. Using both hands and releasing your ankle, Levi presses his hands against your abdomen, running them up underneath the shirt until he reaches your sternum, the sloping sphere of your breasts against his fingertips. His eyes flick up to yours as he pushes the shirt all the way up over your breasts, and uses his body to part your legs until your knees are on either side of his hips.

The weight of his gaze makes you squirm slightly.

He blinks. Licks his bottom lip so quickly you almost miss it and says very simply, “Cream.”

Your grin widens.

Levi lowers his face to your stomach, his lips pressing against the skin above your belly button. Immediately, as if practised, your hands jump up to his head of hair, your fingers threading through it as he works his mouth down from your stomach to the damp space between your legs.

A home within a home; a place he loves to push his face into when he’s had a particularly long day.

Levi doesn’t even have to put in any effort anymore. You quite contently lift your calves up over his shoulders, widening them enough to feel his lips circle around your clit, two fingers widening your folds so he can stuff his face with your cunt.

Coating your clit with a layer of wetness, he replaces his lips with his right thumb and moves his fingers, using his tongue to part you down the middle, and making you writhe against the bed with a satisfied moan.

He’ll admit it to nobody but himself — he’s missed you. You’ve missed him, too, and the way it feels when he rubs his thumb against your nub in careful circles and plunges two fingers up your cunt. Levi could fool himself all he liked with the fantasy that baking a cake was enough to relieve his pent up stress from work, but nothing quite works to ease the burden like a face full of his favourite girls’ pussy.

Levi’s left hand drifts from your stomach to your thigh, smoothing over the top before curving down and round to the inner of your legs, his forearm wrapped around you comfortably and effectively locking you in place. He likes to watch the wetness pool between your legs as he gorges himself on your taste, but today he closes his eyes and closes his lips around you, tasting every inch of you like you’re his own slice of dessert, his favourite kind. Topped and served with a string of elated moans, just the way he likes it best.

“Mmf—!” There’s not a lot for you to say, nothing you can conjure up from the air gasping in your throat as Levi’s tongue licks laps around your clit, his thumb just shy to the side as he leaves a wet present for him to massage into your skin, his mouth very quickly preoccupied by the space neglected beneath.

As his fingers curl up inside of you, then widen apart, your calves drop as if you’re trying to pull Levi closer to your body, and in turn he pushes his left arm down on your thigh and drags you with a smooth motion down the bedsheets and closer to his mouth. Your head arches back with the angled slope of your back, reaching up off the mattress in a coordinated performance of pleasure, and Levi finds the time to open his eyes and look up over your stomach and breasts to find your face; mouth agape and lids closed, gasping silently into the dark.

Yeah. Out of all the desserts he could possibly create in his kitchen, he’d probably have to confess that his favourite one was one that could be made in the bedroom.

Your hands take fistfuls of his hair and feeling the hot flatness of his tongue in the space between your clenching hole and your clit, you find your hips grinding up into his mouth, the slight nudge of his teeth making you squirm even harder beneath him. Levi’s no longer phased by the aching tightness of your fingers woven in a knot on his head. Whenever your fingers twitch and the clutch on his hair tightens, Levi knows he’s doing something right.

Every lick and nip against your cunt is matched by a groan, and as you ride the dampness between your legs against his lips, your voice thins out into a raspy nothingness. Your mouth is dry with the air of the bedroom, your eyes forcing themselves to close when they try and open to peer down at the man snug between your thighs.

Levi feels a mixture of wet substances around his mouth and on his chin, but before he can grant you the pleasure of cumming down his throat, he pulls back.

The emptiness of the space between your legs is jarring, and almost immediately you sit up. Your hands drop from his hair and fall onto the bed, which you use to lift up your shaking body to watch as Levi leans back on his knees and retreats to the forgotten ottoman. It is only when he rises to his feet to observe the array of secret items displayed for his eyes only that you realise Levi is still wearing every article of clothing he was before.

“What’re you doing?” you ask him, finally finding your voice as he arches over and fiddles with something that sounds plastic.

You catch the shine of your own arousal on his chin as he scans the catalogue of items.

“Preparing dessert,” he replies.

Your brows quirk, but when Levi stands upright and begins to shake something with his left hand, you feel your heart and its fast beating plunge straight to your stomach. A knot wells and tightens, and you bite a moan back and feel your thighs coming together like a magnet in anticipation.

Levi is shaking a bottle of whipped cream.

It shouldn’t surprise you nor excite you the way that it does. Levi has always had reservations about whipped cream — it should be from a bottle or made in a bowl; exclusively used as a side for a tart or cake slice, as a topping on a pancake, as the twist of sweetness on top of a hot chocolate. Levi doesn’t use whipped cream on his desserts in the same way he does as an accessory to the bake, but today — tonight, it seems as though he has found another valuable use for his generally unused bottle of whipped cream.

“This is new,” you say, feeling your ass lift off the bed as you struggle to contain your writhing excitement. Levi tests the nozzle; a burst of white cream spits out onto his finger, and without looking away he puts his finger in his mouth with all the nonchalance of a chef tasting his dish as he makes it. “I thought you didn’t like bottled cream on your desserts.”

“I like it on some things,” he replies. “First rule of baking is that you never feel afraid of trying something new.”

You hum thoughtfully as he retakes his position on the bed. It should make you laugh with the way he looks down at you while slowly twisting the bottle from left to right, but it doesn’t; it only makes you breathe heavier, your pulse quickening and legs opening as if on automatic and letting him take the space he’s claimed between them.

“They do say that it goes well with pies,” you say finally, watching as he angles the nozzle down on your stomach. The placement, if nothing else, has surprised you, and you suppress a moan of eagerness when he presses down and watches with a newfound intensity as the spiral of white cream pools out onto your skin. He’s cautious with the amount; just a small bud of cream, enough to swallow in just a mouthful.

Levi leans himself forward and pauses just before he can lick the dollop up off your tummy.

“Clue’s in the name,” Levi replies, and with his eyes boring into your own, he presses his lips around the blob of cream and mouths it up off your body. It is entirely too fast, your jaw slacken as he pulls away, as if gauging your reaction. The yearning expression on your face has the nerve to almost look endearing to him.

He swallows. “Sweet.”

He receives from you something sounding like a whimper. Then, his finger is back on the nozzle and using the cream, he creates a trail from where he last was all the way down to your clit.

You feel yourself clench when the cool texture of the cream sits in a melting bundle on your bud, and your teeth bury themselves into the flesh of your lower lip, biting down with extra force when Levi’s mouth shifts down to your clit and in one teasingly slow strip, he licks the trail of sweet cream up from your cunt to the wet spot on your stomach.

With his tongue, your back arches up off the bed, your knees by his shoulders. Levi is uncomfortably aware of the pooling arousal between your legs, his own forming tightness in his trousers. Watching you writhe with a glistening shine getting more and more pronounced so close to his face has proven to be exactly what he needed to unwind today, but he’s still not quite satisfied.

He’s not ignorant to the way your hips meet with the empty space he leaves when he moves away again, as if fucking an imaginary cock or grinding against an invisible set of hips. He uses his right hand to press you back flat against the bed and savours every second of your aroused moaning when he slathers your cunt with the cream, leaving no wet patch untouched.

He watches with only minimal irritation when the cream slips down your folds into a white pool on the sheets — his sheets — but he takes its sliding as a sign to move back in.

Levi licks the cream up as if it isn’t even there; it’s as if he’s taking gulps of you like it’s nothing, licking every inch of the cream and enjoying the wonders of your pleasure as you cry out above him. His nose brushes against the hidden bump of your clit, the feeling of his hot tongue making your toes curl behind his back, your fingers clenching around the sheets.

Ordinarily, you may have laughed at the sight of his lips coated in a white sheen, the cream on the tip of his nose, but today you can find nothing to laugh about. Every unit of energy is devoted to the tightening clench of your cunt, the tingling warmth growing inside of you as Levi wipes his nose and rises off the bed and onto his feet, right where the ottoman stands as a barrier between you.

He lets you play out your imaginary fantasy, rolling your hips into the empty vacuum of space where he was just situated and uses his hands to undo the belt around his waist. His trousers fall with an effortlessness when he undoes the front button, and he compels himself to watch you stare at him with a lustful gaze as he pulls his trousers down to his ankles. He decides he’ll keep his shirt on — it’s only fair, since you’re still wearing his, albeit the fabric is bunched up under your neck in the way he likes it.

He mounts the bed once again and meets you when you moan expectantly, and relishes in the sharp intake of your breath when he takes your right leg and folds it to the side. You look at Levi over your shoulder, your neck to the side as he presses you down with his left hand and uses the right to hold his cock.

You are once again reminded of how truly lucky you are to have a man like Levi; a man who needs nothing but your cunt in his face to get his cock standing rigid against his lower stomach.

You swallow a moan when Levi pokes the tip of his cock against your fluttering entrance, and when his eyes catch yours, the sharpened edge of his grey eyes staring straight into your own, you can’t catch the cry of pleasure that escapes when he pushes himself into you, feeling you wrap around the tip of him like your cunt is a mouth on its own.

Levi watches you gasp as if pained and he rolls his eyes.

“Shut up. You’re wet enough,” he says in a low tone.

“Hmf—!” And then the length of his cock is buried inside of you, only proving his point.

There’s nothing to explain the way it feels when he’s stuffing your hole: it’s as if he was made for you, a perfect fit to make you whole. Even with virtually nothing to ease the slip into your pussy, there’s no agonising stretch, no painful play — just a wholeness that feels as natural as anything else in the world.

Levi’s fucked you so many times that he might as well claim he lives up here, and each time he makes himself at home, he’s welcomed with open arms and a swallowing gulp. He pushes his hips all the way against you, until the underneath of your thigh is squished against his stomach and you feel the slight slap of his balls against your ass.

He’s never quite fucked you from this angle before, but it’s not unwelcome in the slightest. He wraps his wrist around your thigh and holds the front of it with his hand, his left coming to hold the sinking curve of your waist, which he uses to push you further into the mattress.

Every time his dick sinks further inside of you, you let out a moan — he moves in and out so fast it’s as if he’s trying to keep your noise at a constant speed, never wanting to be left in a silence.

Levi looks down at you as he fucks, no longer interested in the way his dick disappears into the dripping darkness of your cunt and instead entirely devoted to mapping out the pleasure on your face. Nothing he hasn’t seen before, but everything he loves to see.

His hips rock against you, his shoulders tensing as you clench furiously around his length. Surely you don’t mean to be coaxing him into an early finish — surely you wouldn’t be rushing him along when he’s trying to enjoy his dessert.

The tip of Levi’s dick kisses your insides, but from this angle and the burning heat pooling in your abdomen, you don’t know if he’s hitting your cervix or deeper into your literal stomach. Levi’s fucked you from all different angles in every corner of his house, but he feels extra large today. The darkened edge of his eyes might be deceiving you, the sticky residue of cream still on your skin.

You’re almost vibrating with pleasure as he fucks you, and all you can do is stay pinned to the bed like a doll and gasp out your praises.

Like most fucks with Levi, he says nothing besides, “Fuck,” in a dragged out, strangled type of way. He likes to make you suffer by dragging it out for as long as humanly possible, just to see you writhe and cry underneath him, your pussy pink and pulsing, begging for him to stop.

Today, however, luck looks to be on your side.

Unlike normal, Levi has little desire to unravel you into a sobbing mess. All he wants today is to fuck the brains out of his girlfriend and watch as her cunt fills with his cum.

Levi’s fingers clench into your skin, and for a second he closes his eyes in an effort to ride it out just a little bit longer before filling you up. When he feels your hand wrap around his wrist like a vice, his eyes fly open to look at you; you’re curled up, sunken in the bed, contorted into his favourite shape.

Levi spares a glance at his cock swallowed up in your hole and watches with pride as he thrusts in and out of the wetness, and after a stuttering sequence of your hips jerking and mouth falling open with the release of some of his all time favourite sounds, Levi devours the sight of white squeezing from around his dick.

He feels his throat catch. He’ll let you have that one.

Around the quivering clenches of his cock, Levi shudders and lets you squeal until you’ve run dry. He runs his fingers across the width of your connection and smooths the cum between his fingers. Then, without giving you the satisfaction of catching your breath, Levi continues his thrusting which gives him the continued pleasure of hearing you squeal and cry, your free hand reaching to the slip of sloping skin above your pussy as if you were trying to suppress the feeling rippling through you.

Long forgotten are the fingertips pressing bruises into your skin, but each thrust of his dick hitting the same spot inside you is met with an exhausted groan. Finally, when you’ve gathered the energy and courage to look up and around your body at his face, Levi lets slip what you think might be a satisfied smile, and he falters.

Ropes of warmth fill your cunt, and you hear Levi moan, loudly, and he unwraps his wrist from your leg and holds the base of his dick with his right hand. Carefully, he pulls himself out, save for the tip which remains snug in your hole, leaving no space untouched by his seed. He watches with wonder at the way your hole gapes around his cock like a mouth, swallowing his cum up until it billows out. Finally, he slips out of you, staring down at the oozing, swollen hole that is pulsing with cum.

For a while, he stares at it, breathing loudly as he waits for all of his cum to squirt out of you; it’s like squeezing a cream doughnut and watching the sickeningly sweet contents slide out.

Levi glances back up at you, amazed that you’ve been bold enough to watch him until the end, and he pats your waist appreciatively before rolling you back so that you’re flat on the sheets, legs apart, cunt wide.

Time to taste.

You watch as his head disappears between your legs, but he leaves no element of mystery. Your body almost jumps up off the mattress when his tongue pushes into your gaping entrance, lapping at the mixture of your cum and his and whatever else he can catch a taste of while he’s savagely licking down there.

Barely having the energy to pretend to stage a protest, you elect for moaning your approval and tiredly rake your hand through his hair again, pushing it from his forehead as you stare half-lidded at the crown of his head.

You lose count of how long Levi remains nestled down there. The only way you notice he’s no longer there is by the way he sweeps his hands down your legs and lays them flat, making note of every twitch and quiver your body makes.

Staring up at Levi and reluctantly forcing your body back up on your elbows, you grin up at him as he licks his top lip and appears thoughtful.

“Yeah,” sighs Levi, sniffing once in the way he does when he’s trying to fall back into his characteristic charade of coolness. “Homemade cream tastes better.”

Unable to argue, you heave out a laugh and meet his gaze.

“You’re fucking greedy,” you say, but that he actually does smile at.

“So what,” he replies, reaching for another one of the items on the ottoman; a cloth from downstairs that he uses to wipe the mess between your thighs, “we both know I like cream pies. I even shared.”

You flinch when he dabs the cloth against your still-sensitive pussy. You take it from him to finish the honour, meanwhile Levi gathers the bottle of cream and whatever else he brought and never used before opting to watch you shift the cloth between your legs, throwing it back at him in a forced huff. He catches it effortlessly.

“Whatever,” you say, very slowly moving across the bed to the floor. The wooden slabs are cold beneath your feet. “I’m sure your lemon drizzle is miles better.”

Levi shakes his head affectionately and moves to meet you face-to-face when you stand on your feet. He hums when he gets there and strokes his finger down your arm, charming his way into your arms and once he’s close enough to your face, he allows a smile to warm over his features.

He dips his head to greet your lips with a kiss, the first of the day since he left you in the morning.

“Trust me when I say,” Levi says when he pulls away, his expression amused as he croons his finger under your chin and quickly leaves another kiss on your mouth, “I very much doubt that.”

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