#i love his plot twists and this one has got to be my favorites | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ryndicate · 1 year

Text

Seal It With a Kiss ⨳ Kishibe

"You want me to do this for you? Then tell me exactly what it is that you want."

notes: I came up with this idea for @akiniku back in like september when i was just beginning to sniff around the csm fandom for a favorite. Dom told me all about him and i fell in love and came up with this plot and *then* I read csm lol. 6+ months later, here we are T-T thanks to @cyancherub for reading through his characterization for me and for my past and future beta readers<3 (i know some of you havent gotten the chance i was just too excited) Idon’t know if i will ever be able to put as much love into a Kishibe fic ever again so lets try to appreciate this

warnings: female reader, longer than a drabble, alcohol, virginity loss + inexperienced reader, creampie, emotional manipulation, coercion but there's consent, age gap (like 30 years between them, fight me), trainee/mentor relationship, twisted savior complex, canonverse, piss (more about control than it is the kink)

Rules/BYF/DNI

Kishibe sighs. “That’s it for today.”

“Already?” You puff, sweat dripping down your temples, your blade lowering until the tip is pointing to the ground. “I could keep going.”

He sighs again, resisting the urge to rub the approaching headache from his temple. Kishibe will never understand the PSDH’s insistence of sending him all of their potentials. Their screening is usually decent enough to keep this type of student from beneath his weathered wings, but every now and then one will slip through. One like you. Earnest, hopeful, and far too willing to do the job. This ain’t the place for you, never will be. They set you loose on the streets and you’ll be some Devil’s next meal.

But it’s not his place to care. Not supposed to be at least. Makima won’t even tell him which Devils you have contracts with—but again, he doesn't care.

Kishibe ignores your mumbled complaints about cutting your training short, sighing under his breath. “Gonna need’a drink after this.”

He’s unprepared for you to pop up at his side, tilting your head as you ask if you can come with him.

“Why?”

The question seems to put you off. “Isn’t it good manners to take your juniors out after a hard day?”

Kishibe huffs at your coy tone, certain you’re just after a free meal. “That’s for juniors who’ve proven they earned it.”

That seems to put you off even more. “You don’t think I’ve earned it?”

“No.” His answer is short, clipped. Dark eyes watch intently as you deflate a little, that perpetually cheerful expression drooping into something he ultimately decides is an unsettling expression on a face like yours. He doesn’t care for it, unable to decide why.

“How’s this?” He grunts, pulling a cigarette from his pack and lighting up. “I’ll give ya a week.”

“A week for what? You're not supposed to smoke inside, you know.” A sulky tone meets Kishibe’s ears, your eyes tracking his lips and the flare of the cherry as he inhales.

He ignores the snipe. “You get close enough to me to take one of these away—” a twitch of his fingers has flaky ash fluttering to the linoleum, “—and I’ll take you out for drinks. That’s how you earn it.”

The sparkle is back in your eyes in an instant. Your sword tips back into its sheath, coming up on his left to give him a smile. "You got it, sir! You'll never smoke again. Just watch."

Kishibe rolls a shoulder, suppressing a groan at your chipper attitude. I'm getting too old for this shit. "We'll see about that, sweetheart."

He's ignorant to the way the words make you pause, moving for the door, ready to get in his car and drive to his regular dive bar. He needs the silence of the drive before he drowns himself for the night. Well, not so much silence as the rattling heating unit, the rush of passing cars, and music so quiet one might question why it’s even on. It’s simply the beginning step of the ritual he’s come to find most comforting, or numbing, on this job.

"See you tomorrow, sir?"

“Yeah.” He doesn’t even bother glancing back as the door closes behind him.

The autumn air clears his head a little as he finally escapes the hallways of the office. A cold breeze whips at his hair, bringing old scars and memories to mind as it bites at his skin. Kishibe takes a final drag of his cigarette and lets it fall to the pavement. He doesn’t stub it out, pulling out the collar of his jacket to fight the chill as he disappears into the evening crowd.

“That is not how this works.”

“There’s no way this doesn’t count!”

“Give them back.”

“I said you’d never smoke again, didn’t I? I didn’t think you of all people would want me to go back on my word.”

Kishibe takes a careful inhale through his nose, closing his eyes for a beat and convincing himself he won’t kill any of his trainees. He’s sent you to infirmiry more times than he cares to count with these training sessions, to bring home the apparently wavering point on your young dumb invicibility complex, but he knows where the line is. So when he opens them, Kishibe fixes you with the same intent stare that usually gets his subordinates to straighten up, or clingy women out of his apartment. Dark, unimpressed, unwavering.

You are painfully undeterred.

“I had to get close enough to take them from you. That’s what you said.” You stand in front of him, at a regrettably smart distance, looking mighty proud of yourself as you clutch the worn white box carefully in your fist. After five straight days of utter and total defeat, you’d made your move on the car ride over this morning instead.

“I said one, not the pack,” Kishibe drawls. “And you know damn well that ain’t the point here. Nickin' them from the car is not the same.”

You shrug, a familiar petulance beginning to saturate your tone. “Not my fault you weren’t paying attention. You said that kills people.”

Unprepared for the—still a smartass answer but—wisdom of your words, some of the intensity dissolves from his eyes. As if he really needed that reminder. He still has his doubts.

“No arguing that,” Kishibe sighs, scratching his neck. “Guess you get what you wanted. Drinks on me tonight.”

A triumphant smile brightens your face, but it doesn’t last. The barest moment later you find yourself flat on your back on the training facility’s floor, groaning at the impact.

Kishibe flicks his lighter, sparking his cigarette and taking a grateful inhale of sweet nicotine as he stands over you, impassive.

“But I’m still gonna make you earn it, sweetheart. Getting overconfident and lettin’ down your guard also kills people. Get up and block me next time.”

“Yes, sir."

He might have been harsher on you today than entirely warranted as he watches you wince and shift, trying to get comfortable in the weathered booth of his usual bar. But really, to go any easier on you would do you a disservice if you really are this hellbent on working in public safety. Part of Kishibe is hoping one training session—and soon—he’ll find your limit and you’ll realize you aren’t making the cut. At the very least he’d like you to settle for the civilian sector. Hell, Kishibe despises paperwork but he'd write your damn recommendation.

You’re peering around the dimly lit space. It's hazy with smoke, with a scent to match. He probably could have taken you somewhere nicer, but he really didn’t want to stray too far from his own comfort zone, so what the hell. This was your own idea anyways.

“Are you even old enough to be in here?” Kishibe asks suddenly, catching the eye of the bartender and tipping his head.

“I came of age a couple months ago.”

Kishibe cringes inwardly at your prideful tone. Fucking great. He eyes you as the bartender begins to edge out from behind the counter, watching as you glance around a little frantically for a menu. Shoddy place like this doesn’t really have one.

Kishibe gestures between the two of you before the man has to cross the bar completely. “My usual. Double for me.”

"What's your usual?" You ask curiously.

"Whiskey. Nothing fancy, just cheap and strong."

"Oh."

The glasses are placed in front of you and you give what Kishibe sees as an awkward smile at the bartender as your fingers wrap around the glass. He takes a grateful gulp, unable to help but notice you haven't made a move with your own.

"Not to your taste?"

"I don't know," you answer plainly, tilting the short glass and letting the amber liquid catch the light. "Never had it."

"Never had whiskey?" Kishibe hums, bored, taking another drink. The double is going fast. The familiar warmth has already settled in his chest, an old comfort.

"Never had alcohol."

Sucker punched with that information, Kishibe pauses and swallows the last of his glass before setting it down and signaling for a refill. He's far too practised to waste a drop of a drink he's paying for.

"Why are we here?" It's a shrewd question, a shrewd tone. "If you've never had alcohol, why were you so insistent on going out for drinks? Isn't that something you do with your friends?"

Your fingers tighten on the glass, a small pout forming on your lips. "Didn’t wanna do this with friends. Wanted my first drink to be with you, s-sir." Embarrassment coats your features as your words stumble off at the end, and you return to examining your still untouched drink.

Kishibe's refill arrives, another heaven sent double. He's getting the faint inkling that something else is happening here and he's far too tired to pick the answers out of you.

"Lemme get this straight," he drawls, leaning forward and jabbing a finger at you over the rim of his glass before bringing it to his lips. "You wanted your first drink out with a tired old man instead of your friends?"

"You're not tired!"

Your tone is scandalized, pitch rising high enough that it catches the attention of some other men seated nearby. The last thing he needs.

Kishibe scoffs, scar twitching as he fights a sardonic smirk. "Beg to differ sweetheart."

"You're not, you…you're—" your volume is back to normal, seemingly struggling with your words, and it's amusing if not slightly endearing.

"Lemme know when you think of something, I'll be here," Kishibe mumbles, drinking again, content to watch you squirm. "You gonna take that first drink? You got me here, like you wanted. Might as well."

That small smirk finally fights its way onto his lips as you give him the barest of glares. He usually doesn't see that look on you until you've gone an entire session without landing a single hit. It's cute.

"You're you. Don't gotta 'splain myself to you," you grumble, timidly lifting the glass to your lips.

"No, you don't," Kishibe rumbles in agreement, watching as you take your first swallow.

To your merit you don't splutter or cough, but a grimace splinters across your expression as you swallow and stare down at the glass in mild disbelief.

"This sucks," you announce firmly.

Kishibe barks out a short laugh and finishes his second drink. "I'll order ya something else."

He's reaching for your glass when you snatch it away from him.

"No, I'll finish it. This is what you usually get?"

"Yeah. But take it easy, that's a—" Kishibe stares, a little defeated as you down the glass. "Tha'sa sippin' whiskey."

"What's that mean?" You croak out, your face scrunching up despite your efforts.

"It means you're getting a glass of water before I get you anythin' else."

"Why?"

You'll thank me in the morning, Kishibe thinks grimly, not deigning to answer. Along with the next few rounds and the rounds after that, he also orders your water and some food, feeling abnormally generous. Maybe he just doesn’t want to deal with your grumbling tomorrow at training.

He can’t stop thinking how strange this is. It’s strange. You’re here in his usual booth, humming an odd tune while drinking his usual whiskey, when he’s here each night, usually alone. Kishibe feels the deep disturbance all the way to his roots, gnarled and twisted as they are.

Watching your face twist up at the taste again, Kishibe decides to slow down with some soju instead. Your eyes are getting blurry and your hands have settled into some kind of nervous habit, picking at the edge of the table as you try not to look at him. He doesn't understand your insistence here. Here at the bar, or anything else.

"Why are you doin' this?" He asks again, quiet.

You glance at him, blinking slowly as your gaze struggles to focus. Then you force a smile, sweet and pure as a Devil's heart. It's damn near chilling to see.

"'Cause I want to, sir."

"Bullshit." He's looked into you. Your family is alive, financially stable. You're not like most rookies joining up for the pay or the revenge. And from being around you he figures you aren't the type to do this for status. So it doesn't make sense.

Your smile fades. "What do you mean?"

"Exactly what I said. You're not cut out for this shit, kiddo. An' I think ya know it, too."

"It's my first night out drinking, how can you tell?"

"Don't play coy with me."

You stand sharply, unsteady, a look crossing your face that Kishibe can't read. Before he can speak again, you're sliding into the booth on his side.

"Then ask me directly, sir." You whisper, trying valiantly to meet his harsh stare, before eventually losing your nerve and fixing your gaze on the table.

Like Kishibe has any problem being direct. Fine then. He sets his glass down and turns his body to face you. "Why're ya training so damn hard to become a Devil Hunter when it's just gonna get you killed?"

Cheeks warming, you don't look at him again. "Every Hunter has their reason, or else they wouldn't be here. We don't gotta share them unless we want to."

Your words are halting, and slurred. Kishibe pushes your drink out of reach. A fifth of whiskey and bottle of soju between you both for your first night out was an oversight on his part, even if he had more than you.

"And you're not goin' to tell me?"

Head dropping into your palm, eyelashes fluttering, you peek up at him. "Not unless you can tell me why you care."

Kishibe pauses. He's got plenty of reasons, but he's not uncouth enough to say them to you. 'Cause he doesn't want to be wasting his time prepping meat for the chopping block. 'Cause booze is expensive and sleep is precious. He doesn't get enough as it is and he's sick at the idea of losing more. 'Cause every time one of his trainees dies, it feels like a new scar cracks its way across the already trampled fragments of his soul.

There's plenty of reasons he drinks himself nearly dead every night.

Your fuzzy eyes peer into his darkened ones and seemingly run into the wall that you know he's put up. "Then it's better you don't ask, sir. It’s important to me, that’s all you need’ta know."

So much for direct.

There's a silence at the table after Kishibe gruffly orders another drink, his mood for the night officially ruined. This is why he doesn't socialize with coworkers. Save people by day, check out at night. He lives for one fleeting peace; he'd rather be drowning in booze and laid up in the arms of whatever woman will put up with him.

And all he has right now is booze. He flags the barkeep. "Bottle for the road."

You shift to look at him. "Are we leaving already?"

"Yeah. You've had plenty."

There's no complaint, but there's no mistaking the look of disappointment on your face as he takes your arm and helps haul you to your wobbly feet.

"What's that look for?"

"I was having fun, sir."

"Stop calling me sir."

"Why?"

"Cause we're at a fucking bar. Sir is for work."

"Then what am I supposed to call you?"

"Just Kishibe."

He finally looks at you again and you're smiling and this time there's nothing to be unsettled about. "No honorific? You'll let me call you by name?"

"It's sir at work," Kishibe reminds, deadpan.

“And master in front of other hunters, I know,” you parrot cheekily, and Kishibe merely curls his lips in a temporary smirk.

“Damn right.”

"But not at work?" You prod, leaning into his frame heavily as the cold night air washes away the warmth of the bar.

"Then yeah, drop the honorific."

"Kishibe." His name leaves your lips as a wonder-filled giggle. The corner of his lip tugs further upward unwittingly in dry amusement. At least someone can salvage the mood for the night.

You poke at the bottle held loosely in his grip. "Can I have some of that?"

He passes it to you. "You don't even like the stuff."

An impressive amount of the amber liquid disappears down your throat before you groan in disgust and pass it back to him. "Sometimes we do stuff we don't like 'cause we get something out of it."

Kishibe hums at that. "And what do you get out of it?"

"'S a secret."

"A secret, huh? You seem to have a lot of those." He drawls, keeping you upright when you almost fall again. Yeah, he needs to find you a taxi or something. Neither of you are driving tonight. It's a little annoying, he meant to stop at the convenience store to get another pack of cigs before going home tonight. The crumpled empty pack is still in his pocket—he hasn't had one since this morning and Kishibe can feel the irritation in his nerves.

"What's your address kid?" He nudges you as the taxi pulls up, but your weight against his hip suddenly feels dead. "Are you—of course you are."

Kishibe's whole chest fills with his next sigh, and he quietly works to get you into the cab. The driver asks him where they're going and he actually has to think about it for a moment. He'd much rather prefer going back to his cozy little hideout, but it's a mess and much too small. Not to mention he absolutely does not want you knowing where it is.

Closing his eyes, Kishibe reluctantly mumbles out an address, and sinks even deeper into his bottle before the cab drops them off at the requested location.

He eyes you over as the elevator quietly ascends, one arm around your waist with yours around his shoulder to bear your weight. It's really no wonder you passed out, the scent of whiskey is just about crawling out of your pores. Between the two of you, Kishibe bets the elevator smells like a distillery.

The doors open into his “apartment”.

He doesn't like sleeping here. The place is too big, ceilings too high, furniture too fancy. All those high windows and modern grays and whites. It's perfectly clean and perfectly lifeless, set up for him by the PSDH. He's sure some bright-eyed big shot hunter in it for the money and high living would get a kick out of the place, but for a man like him the space is just obnoxious. But since his studio isn't an option, and Kishibe can't be bothered with taking you to a hotel, he figures you'd rather prefer one of his guest rooms instead.

Kishibe flinches and grumbles under his breath as the now empty bottle slips from his hand and clatters to the hardwood. You make a rather undignified snort as you startle to awareness. If one could call it that.

“Wha—” Your fingers cling to the sleeve of his jacket as you blink through the blur of your eyesight, struggling to find your footing. “Where’re we now?”

“My place.”

“You live here?”

“Technically.”

He hauls you towards the kitchen, somewhat a struggle with your uninhibited desire to swivel your head and scan the place as thoroughly as you were presently capable of doing.

“Not what I pictured.” You wobble and right yourself, slumping against the marble countertop. Kishibe pauses, making sure you’re gonna make a dive for his floor before he turns to pull open the fridge.

“Yeah well, me neither.”

“It’s so clean.” That earns you a grunt. “And modern.”

“You tryin’ to say something, sweetheart?” He sends you a look that sends a hot wave of embarrassment across your face.

“No! ‘M just sayin’...”

“Yeah, whatever. Here.”

You take the water bottle he pushes into your hands and open it, halfheartedly taking a few sips to ease the simmer in your cheeks.

Kishibe snorts when you put it down. “Nuh uh, finish that.”

You take another sip, trying to placate him. “‘M not thirsty though.”

Your eyes widen as he grumbles and steps closer, dark eyes narrowed. It’s impossible to muffle the noise of complaint on your lips as he tips the water bottle back, keeping your chin up with an uncompromising strength. "Tough. I said all of it."

The rough pads of his thumbs feel like fire on your jaw and he seems to have no idea how his proximity is setting you ablaze. You quickly swallow before you choke, or worse spill down your chin like a child. He doesn’t let go until you’ve finished the bottle—it’s impossible not to gasp for air as if you’ve breached the surface of a pool for the first time in minutes.

“Pretty good lungs.”

“I almost died—!” You wheeze, unappreciative of the joke, wiping your face with your arm.

“You were gonna be dead in the morning if you didn’t. Might as well get it over with.” Kishibe sets the empty bottle on the counter, unflappable.

“Hmph.”

You watch curiously as he grabs himself some water, noticing with a scowl that he doesn’t drink nearly as much as he forced on you. He reaches for a small bottle, rattling as he shakes a couple into his palm. “You’re not supposed to take those with alcohol.”

Kishibe gives you a dry look and pops the painkillers into his mouth. He can feel his head pounding already, his routine thoroughly interrupted. He can’t mentally check out with you still here, especially in this state. You look a little more solid now compared to your unconscious slump, but you’re still visibly swaying, blurred eyes drifting in and out of focus. Last thing he needs is for you to do something to yourself when he’s around. The paperwork for that would be the death of him.

He shrugs and nods for you to follow. “C’mon, sweetheart.”

You suddenly look nervous. “C’mon where?”

“Night’s over. Time for bed.”

You produce a shaky laugh. “What?”

Sweet fuck.

“You want a bed or the couch?” Kishibe takes applaudable effort to keep the exhaustion out of his tone. Honestly, you'd probably be better off with the couch, grateful for your mumbled little ‘doesn’t matter to me’. He's not sure of the state of any of the rooms, considering he's trashed them before. Whoever set the place up for him might have a cleaning service but he's never bothered to ask about it since he’s never here. “There’s blankets around here somewhere.”

Stepping into the living room he sees he’s right, a couple of soft looking throws draped over the back of a plush black sectional. You’re trailing close behind him, like you’ll get lost if you lose sight of him.

“Sit.” Kishibe says tiredly as you circle around the edge of the sectional, looking around curiously.

You listen and he grabs the other blanket off the far arm of the couch, tossing it and one of the pillows towards where you’re sitting. The pillow lands at your side, the blanket haphazardly in your lap, are you’re just staring at him as he settles on the other side, shrugging out of his suit jacket and letting that fall to the floor.

“Get comfortable, go to sleep,” Kishibe grunts, closing his eyes.

“You’re staying in here?”

He doesn’t read into the tone of your voice, keeping his eyes shut. “Someone’s gotta make sure you don’t choke on your own puke in your sleep.”

“‘M not gonna puke,” you grumble under your breath.

Kishibe wills in a sigh, listening to the rustle of blankets and what he assumes is you settling down. Only to tense as the cushion near him dips under weight. He opens his eyes to see you sitting you next to him and his eyes sharpen.

You cut him off, seeming to sense whatever biting remark is coming. “I’m not tired. Not good at sleeping in new spaces.”

“Well you need’ta try.”

“Can we just talk for a bit?”

He sighs, but he doesn’t refute you, opening his eyes to give you a quiet stare. “Fine. What do you want to talk about?”

Relying heavily on the lingering alcohol in your veins to gather the nerve, you scooch closer to his position on the couch, dragging the blanket with you. “You’ve really never had anyone over here? But Himeno says you never spend your nights alone.”

Kishibe eyes you warily as you enter what he considers his field of personal space, your knees barely brushing against his thighs. “I don’t normally spend my nights here. And you can tell Himeno she’s got better things t’do than gossip about my personal life.”

“So you spend the night at their place then?”

“Sometimes.”

“Are you really the womanizer everyone says you are?”

Kishibe glances up to see you even closer and shifts a little to give you a measured look, eyelids drooping in suspicion. “You really want the truth of that?”

“Yeah, ‘m hoping to hear something,” you murmur, heart racing as you place a hand on his abdomen. It stiffens under your touch, but he makes no move to stop you, so you toy with the button of his shirt.

“And what’s that exactly?” Shock receding, his mind catches up and he grabs your hand, keeping it from tracing its upward path.

“There’s something I’m hoping you can help me with, sir.”

“Kishibe.”

“Kishibe,” you correct, cheeks warming as you finally raise your eyes from his chest to look into his own. He’s watching you so closely that you almost look away again, almost chickening out.

His eyes are locked onto the way you’re chewing at your lip, waiting for you to say something more, hoping for anything that makes sense. When you don’t his patience thins enough to ask, “Well?”

“I-um,” you hesitate before your fingers curl into his shirt, mentally fortifying yourself, “I’ve never… I’m looking for someone experienced to- to help me. I want it to be you.”

There's a small pause as his whiskey-addled mind filters out the meaning of your words. Then, a small disbelieving smirk is half-formed on his lips when he scoffs out a laugh. “Ha, no, sweetheart. No, I don’t think so.”

He’s shifting to stand up off the couch when you panic. You’ve gotten this far! He has to hear you out, or you’ll never be able to look him in the eye again, let alone train under him. So before he can, you throw your thigh over his lap, straddling him. His hands flash to your arms in an iron grip, keeping your hands from wandering any further. He’s staring at you in muted disbelief, tense, as if he can’t quite believe you’re defying him.

“Please wait,” your voice raises in pitch, but you’re almost whispering. “I can explain, please just listen.”

“What? Cute little student girl got the hots for teacher? Or are you desperately in love with me now, and can’t bear the thought of anyone else sullying your innocence?” he drawls out, the insanity of this situation finally allowing him to release the floodgates on all the ill manner he’s been attempting to keep back all night.

Your face might as well be a space heater as you splutter in mortification at being seen through so easily, trying to find the words to refute him. “N-no! No, I wasn’t. That’s… That’s not…”

“You better clear this up real quick then, sweets, cause you don’t have long before I take it into my own hands,” Kishibe warns lowly, soft and dangerous, seconds from calling a cab to get you miles away from his apartment, and more importantly him.

The hard-eyed stare he’s giving you now is nothing like the way he looks at you in training. Your heart sinks into your stomach at the thought that entertaining your feelings is enough to make him react this way, turning him into this colder version of himself that you barely recognize. This is not going the way you intended, but you can’t imagine that you’ll ever be in a situation like this ever again, so you take a deep breath and clear your expression of all deceit. “It’s not like that, but I really can’t think of anyone else to help me with this. It’s not for lack of trying.”

Kishibe eyes you, his grip on your arms not slacking. You glance down at him warily, and he’s like a bristling cat that’s making an attempt at trust.

“So…? Will you help me?”

He mumbles eventually, still tense, “Why not Hayakawa? Or one of the other rookies, they’re probably better suited.”

You make a face. “The rookies are stupid, and Hayakawa-san is just too… stern.”

“I’m not stern?”

“That’s not the point!” You retort hotly. “Hayakawa just seems more like someone who isn’t interested in casual flings—”

“And that’s what you’re looking for here?” Kishibe cuts in drily, noting the way your mouth snaps shut. You shift awkwardly in his lap and he stoutly blames his nightly routine for the way his body is sluggishly perking to life. He might have the heart of a saint, but his mind is more like a devil’s… and he has eyes.

Oblivious to his internalizations, you grimace. You don't want casual anything so it's technically a point in Hayakawa's favor. But there's one big point in the younger man's (begrudgingly small) list of cons that can't be overlooked: he's not Kishibe.

“I’m looking for someone who knows what they’re doing,” you inform him, your voice softening. There’s a sort of vulnerability to you now that has the older man caving despite himself and listening more intently, watching you whiplash between assertive and shy for the nth time. “Someone I trust, who won’t take advantage of me. And… I don’t believe the whole sacred virginity schtick, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want my first time to be… I don’t know, special?”

Kishibe’s mouth runs dry, and this time he blames the alcohol. “This isn’t a good idea.”

“Don’t say that,” you plead softly, leaning closer without thinking in your excitement. That wasn’t a refusal. “It doesn’t have to be a big deal, I don’t have anyone else to ask.”

He can feel your breath on his cheeks, his eyes bouncing between your lips and eyes for a moment before humming low. “No one else? A girl like you, having to settle for an old man like me?”

"No one has to know. Please, sir?" You plead quietly, with crystal notes of sincerity. It's a painfully sweet sound.

Kishibe reluctantly lets your arms slip from his hands and drops his own to loosely grip your waist, absently drawing a pattern on your hip with one finger. The heat of your body is filtering so thick through your clothes that he doesn't know how he didn't notice it until now. You shiver at his touch, and he tries to keep his expression neutral when you instinctively grab at his shoulders.

He shouldn't be considering this for even a second, but he is and he hates himself for it. You're a young pretty thing, and he's made a point to stop looking at young pretty things the way your touch is sparking him to, for going on years now.

Carefully, one hand moves to rest on your stomach, caressing its way up over your covered chest, eliciting a soft gasp from you before it moves on and settles under your chin, firmly tugging it down to make sure you're looking at him. He's never cared for the way you can't look him in the eye, and he normally lets it go but he won't tolerate it tonight. If he goes through with this, that is.

Your eyes are wide, and glazed in a way that has nothing to do with alcohol for the first time tonight. Kishibe makes a low sound in his throat at the sight of it before speaking, a heavy, rumbling tone meant to ensure you're taking in every word.

"You want me to do this for you?"

"Yes." Your breath catches as you damn near breathe the word out, your heart in your throat and a flutter in your stomach that makes you feel like you might fly away.

"Then tell me exactly what it is that you want." Fuck, he’s really doing this.

"I…" The hesitation must be clear on your face because his expression gets heated, a tiny smirk forming at the corner of his lips. You wouldn't have seen it at all if you weren't staring at them so hard. A quiet moan spills from your lips as he presses them to your jaw, not quite kissing, but dragging them up, warm breath tickling your ear. The center of your world quakes as he continues with that low, soul-quaking tone.

"Do you want me to treat you like a princess? Worship your body and make it all about you, take you to another world as I take you apart?" Kishibe marvels at the broken whimper you make as he grazes his teeth across your earlobe. "Or do you want me to be a little selfish? Show you pleasure as I know it, and change everything you think you know about carnal desire?"

"Sir—"

"No," he warns severely, gripping your thigh in warning, pulling back to look you in the eye.

"Kishibe," you correct yourself with a breathy whine that you hope doesn’t sound ridiculous. "Kishibe, I want you to choose."

"You want me to choose?"

"Th-that's why I chose you. You always- always know what's best."

That's so far from true, but in this realm of possibility, with you blinking those sweet little doe eyes down at him, Kishibe won't be the one to correct you. "...Alright."

"Then please take care of me." Please.

This time it's him who shudders. "Alright," he murmurs again, "Alright, sweetheart. I've got you."

He’s a little gentler this time as he tugs your chin down to him, meeting your lips in a delicate kiss that has all his nerves standing to attention in a way he hasn’t felt in a long time. With other women, he has no reason to be slow or gentle. With other women, both parties know what they’re there for, but this isn’t like that. You aren’t like that. You’re young, and if you’re to be believed, untouched. Pure. And you’ve put yourself in his care, begging for him to remove that purity. He’s not sure he ever would have agreed to this if he were sober, so you lucked out. Or maybe this is what you wanted all along.

Kishibe groans softly as you timidly move to respond to his kiss, alcohol sweet on your breath. You at least seem to know what to do here, parting your lips and staying pliant as he learns how you taste, moving your tongue against his as he explores your mouth. He breaks for a moment, giving you a warning and enough time to stop him, tugging at the hem of your shirt. “I’m taking this off now.”

He waits, and when you do nothing but moan, he begins to pop the buttons of your shirt open, one by one from the bottom up, exposing your navel, and then the black cotton bra beneath. You kiss him deeper as he slides a hand up your spine, rocking your hips into his lap as he pulls at the clasp, undoing it in a practised move. The fabric falls loose, and he presses a hand to your sternum, forcing you to retreat.

Your lips are slick, a little swollen, but it’s the hazy look in your eyes that has all his attention. “You good, sweets? You even gonna remember this in the morning?”

“I will. I will, 'm promise. Please keep going,” you slur, not really giving him the best vote of confidence.

“Take that off for me.” Kishibe tugs loosely at your bra, the cups hanging just low enough for him to get a peek at your areolas. His cock is straining in his slacks now, but he’s too invested for it to be uncomfortable yet. He meant it when he said he was going to take you apart, and he’s going to do it slowly.

You blink at him, and timidly slide the straps off your shoulders. Your movements are slow, but there’s less hesitance than he’s seen so far. It’s clear you’re more worried about his disapproval than any insecurities you might have. Good.

“Good girl. Look at you,” Kishibe is quick to dole out the praise as soon as your tits are exposed, half for your confidence and half because they really are pretty tits. He’s reaching for them before even he can process what he’s doing. Your nipples are already hard, pulled taut and looking painfully neglected, either from your own arousal or the air. It could be cold in here for all Kishibe knows, but the air around him feels thick, heated and charged. He’d be suffocating if he weren’t so focused.

You take a shuddering breath as he holds them. His touch is so light, the pads of his fingers calloused and warm, stroking over the sensitive flesh. You want more, arching into his touch as much as you dare, still unable to shake the thought that he might change his mind and end this, but for now he doesn’t disappoint. Dazed, you realized the sharp gasp that bites the air is yours as he strokes the pads of his fingers over your nipples before tugging lightly, pleasure rippling hot under your skin.

Your head tosses back in a moan as he does it again, this time his lips brushing the curve of your breast as he pulls you forward, pressing your chest closer to his face. He sucks at the fat of your breasts, still gently tweaking your at your hardened nubs, working his way over, seemingly content to explore.

Pleasure moves hot and slow under your skin, but your mind keeps rocketing from one sensation to another, making it impossible to think beyond the man beneath you. His slick tongue moving against your skin, the heat and wet of it stroking over the edge of your areola, the rough pad of his thumb, the scrape of his blunt nail over the sensitive tip of your nipples, the same callouses gripping at your back, fingertips tickling the edge of your shoulder blade.

“Quit it,” Kishibe grunts after a minute, and you realize you’ve twisted your hands into his hair, tugging him closer and trying to drag him to where it feels like he’s purposefully avoiding.

“Please, Kishibe, please,” you moan, blissfully unaware of the minor tantrum you’re throwing at you grind down on his clothed erection. “Your mouth.”

“What about it?” He blinks at you lazily, taking the moment where you sit back to tug at the top few buttons of his own shirt, exposing the top of his chest and a peek of the dark hair that’s hidden beneath.

“Let… Let me feel it,” you breathe out after you’ve snapped your eyes away from that new detail.

The slow grin that spreads across his features feels like the first key in the series of locks that surrounds the man in front of you, a piece of him that he doesn’t share willingly. Something that has to be brought out, dragged out, a prisoner in a cage of its own making.

“Be more specific, sweets.”

But he’s still the same man, he just exists in varying shades. You squirm for a moment, subject to self-consciousness, but the ache in your nipples, growing tighter in the continued neglect, wins out. You cup your own tits, pushing them out as you lean back down to him. “Want it here. Need to feel you suck on them.”

An appreciative gleam brightens dark eyes. “There’s a good girl.”

This time Kishibe leans in with intent, and you learn something else—your mentor is a goddamn tease.

His tongue drags over your nipples before sucking, and your hands are tangled in his hair again before you can process it, a cry in a pitch you don’t even recognize torn from your mouth. The slick muscle flicks over the tip as his free hand comes up to roll the other between his fingers lightly. You’re shamelessly rutting into his lap now, senselessly chasing the pleasure boiling low in your stomach, and you can feel him moan against your skin at the friction.

You feel the scrape of his teeth, light and intentional, before he pops off and switches to the other. The treatment begins anew and you swear you might be able to come from this, the wet suction of his mouth, the tacky warmth as he tugs and twists at the nipple still covered in his spit. But Kishibe doesn’t let you, noting the frantic ruts of your body and beginning to slow his efforts, easing you back down.

“Wait—” Your complaint rears itself as your fingers twist into the shorter hair of his nape, trying to tug him closer the moment he pulls away.

“Easy, I’m not done with you,” he rasps, taking your wrists and gently detanging your fingers from his hair.

You yelp as he grips your thighs and flips your back to the cushions, a strength you already knew he had from all the times he’s stomped you in training, but it surprises you regardless. There’s no time to pick through your thoughts at the display, because Kishibe is bullying between your thighs and capturing your lips in a kiss that puts the last one to shame. It’s possessive, it’s plundering; erasing any other thought from your mind except the way he feels against you. How immovable he feels, his hips keeping your thighs spread, his obvious arousal against your core, his weight against your torso—whatever isn’t supported by his forearm against the cushions, just what he chooses to give you—the scratch of his stubble against your face, the ones he lets overgrow because they shadow his jawline again in less than a day.

You moan into his mouth as a hand slips between your bodies, pulling the button of your slacks and pushing a hand into your panties, the sound turning into a high keen as he drags his fingers through your slit. You know you’re wet, soaked even, but it’s still a shock to feel your own wetness as he pulls back out, slick against your mound before he’s free of your clothing, to see it shining on his fingers when he pulls back to give you a breath. You knew you wanted him, but to see how much would be mortifying if he knew the truth.

The glisten on his fingers goes unnoticed for a second as he catches sight of your wrecked expression, sitting back on his haunches.

“Oh sweets, look at you,” Kishibe chuckles, voice tight. “You’re a pretty sight right now, and you don’t even know. A sweet little mess. My sweet little mess, for tonight.”

Making a decision, he swipes his hands on the thighs of his pants and undoes his shirt, tossing it over the back of the couch, aware of the way you stare from beneath him. He's getting there in years, but the aches of this job refuse to let his body go soft. There's a thin layer of soft skin stretched across the muscles beneath, making the definition less pronounced, less assuming, but there's no denying the power behind them as he flexes subtly, smirking when your eyes track the movement.

"Hips up," he orders firmly, his fingers already tugging at the waistband of your slacks.

Not needing to be told twice, you shift and raise your hips as he pulls them from your legs, panties and all. You're completely bare under him, and he's still wearing his pants, the button popped, looking like a god above you. His eyes are piercing, his expression set like marble. As he puts hot palms on your thighs, spreading them even further apart, you think about how attractive he looks when he smokes, almost wishing he had a cig hanging from his lips so you could see it.

Kishibe is staring intently at your pussy, the hunger in him growing deeper as he watches the muscles twitch. "So no one's ever touched this, huh?"

You shake your head, whimpering as he pulls your sticky lips apart.

"You lying, sweetheart? Not even you?"

Kishibe pulls back the hood of your poor swollen clit, stroking it lightly with the tip of his finger, dark eyes watching your face intently.

The touch rips a gasp from your throat like ice had been poured down your back, tossing your pretty little head back into the pillows as your fingers twist at what little slack the cushions beneath you have. Kishibe feels the flames of hell crawl a little closer to his own flesh as his arousal flares dangerously at the sight.

When you remain silent he prompts a little cruelly for an answer, slowly circling the throbbing bud. "Hmm?"

"I've-yeah I've touched it. Sometimes."

"Tell me."

"Tell you?" You suck in a harsh breath as one of his digits teases your entrance, but pulls away.

"Yeah, tell me how you touch your pussy at night. I wanna know how you play with yourself." His voice drones with detached amusement but his dark eyes are sharp, the sight making your skin prickle with elation to be the center of his attention.

“Usually slow,” you breathe out, moaning when he moves to your clit again. Two fingers press on the bundle of nerves and begin to rub back and forth in a steady tempo.

“Like this?” Kishibe murmurs, watching you closely.

“Slower,” your voice breaks an octave higher as he increases the pressure just a little, readjusting to what you now realize are instructions for him. “Y-yes, mm, like that…”

“Good. How about your fingers, hmm? You do that slow too?”

You can feel yourself dripping down to the couch as his voice drips across you like honey. “Yeah, at first.”

“One to start?”

“Fuck!” A keen tears from your throat as he slides the first digit in, abandoning your clit, the thick, calloused digit pressing in to the hilt with zero resistance.

“Or do you start with two?” Kishibe watches raptly as his middle joins his pointer in the rippling warmth of your cunt, the broken sob leaving your lips sending a irresistible wave of want tearing through his body. The way your hips grind into his touch, chasing more of him is enough to let him know that you can take more, but he lets you stay here for a moment, using his free hand to stroke over his confined cock as you writhe beneath him.

It’s not hard to find the right angle to stroke your slick walls, curling his fingers up into the spot that has you tossing your head back with what almost sounds like a mournful wail, as if you’re just realizing that you’ve never really given yourself real pleasure before. Kishibe isn’t sure if you have to be honest, you haven’t said, but he isn’t concerning himself with that. He’s too focused on the way you shy away from his touch when he presses his thumb to your clit again, as if you can’t take the combination.

“Oh?” It’s almost a coo, delight pulsing in his veins. “Not like that huh? That not how you do it?”

“I can’t, I can’t—it doesn’t, n-never like this!” It almost sounds like you’re pleading with him, your eyes wide as you stare at him, a thick haze of shock and bliss covering your irises that Kishibe is losing himself in, pumping his wrist, tempted to add a third finger just to see what sounds you’ll make.

“Told you I’d change everything you think you know about pleasure, sweetheart.” He pulls his digits from your pussy, relishing in the whine of protest. And if he’s being honest with himself, there’s a bit of a power complex rushing through him, to be able to control your pleasure whether you think you can handle it or not is too alluring. It’s the thought of making you scream, nothing barred, as he forces ecstasty on you that you don’t even know exists on that has him pushing off the couch which a groan to finally free his cock, shucking his pants off, the liquor leaving him a little unsteady.

“Sit up for me.”

You do as he says, confusion scrunching you expression as he settles between your legs, his knees protesting only a little as he shifts so that the plush carpet isn’t dragging uncomfortably against his skin. A little yelp stays in your throat as he tugs you to the edge, spreading your thighs wider and positioning your hips up to expose your pretty pussy. He’s only a breath away, the scent of you thick, kissing distance really, when you slur out some nonsense that sounds questioning, but he can’t say he actually catches any sense of syllables from you.

“I’m thicker than most so you need this,” Kishibe grumbles, nipping at your inner thigh as you squirm and glaring you into submission, “But even a man with a pencil dick better be doin’ this for ya, so don’t accept less.”

Before you can come to terms with him on your knees before you, your mind fizzles out as his tongue swipes through your folds, and his groan vibrates deep into your core. If not for his hands keeping your thighs spread, you would have wrapped them around his head. His nose nudges at your clit as his tongue presses into your clenching pussy, and you can’t stop the garbled sound of pleasure as he laps at your walls, your head tossing back against the couch cushions as he eats you like a meal. It’s surreal, it doesn’t make a lick of sense but oh god you don’t care. The sounds of him slurping at your cunt makes your cheeks burn and you force yourself past your self consciousness to look down at him, the skin of your knuckles stretched tight as you curl them into shaking fists, trying to wrap your mind around the sensations.

Kishibe flattens his tongue over your clit, and meets your gaze with a wicked gleam in his eyes as he slips a finger into you, savoring the way you clamp down right away, giving a reedy mewl. He can’t help himself any longer, one hand closing around his dick and beginning to slowly stroke himself, trying to go slow, to ease some of the pressure and calm himself down. He adds another digit, and sits back as he begins to work you towards your finish.

“Should’ve done this in a bed,” he mutters under his breath, the scent of your pleasure thick, feeling mildly guilty as you tremble through your long awaited awaited high. Even his first encounter had been in a bed, traditional.

Kishibe hisses into your thigh as your fingers twist so tight into his hair that he’d snap at you if he were anywhere but here. Here with his fingers sweeping over your clit, watching the way your muscles ripple and tense, an obscene amount of slick and cum dripping onto his couch, and damn it why are you so easy to spoil? Why is he letting you practically rip the hair from his head as your hips jolt and jump, pleasure taking every ounce of your control away from you. There’s a wet sound as he finally pulls his fingers from your cunt, and you slump against the cushions, a looking so beautifully fucked out that it’s a damn shame you haven’t actually been fucked yet.

But that’s what you came here for, and Kishibe will not be the one to disappoint. He pushes to his feet for a moment and drags your hips until you’re both on the couch comfortably, and lets himself sink between your legs, his dick hot and throbbing against your inner thigh. It’s weeping precome and there’s a shivering sense of relief to know that his patience is finally about to be rewarded.

“You still with me, sweets?” Kishibe murmurs softly, leaning over you, letting his lips drag up your throat in a possessive trail of teeth marks and bruises. “You ready for me?”

The prickle of his overgrown stubble brings you back down a little, and you moan as his tongue swipes over the indentations left in your flesh. “That was—” you gasp at a sharp dig of his teeth under your jaw, hips arching towards him as you feel the weight of his dick between your slick folds, thoughts flying from your mind as the thick tip of him slides over your oversensitive clit. “Oh fuck, Kishibe please. I need y- I need it, oh god.” Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. Maybe he really is going to ruin you. You can’t imagine anyone else ever making you feel this good, so overwhelmed but so hungry for it.

“Good fucking girl,” he whispers, and your body lights up as he shifts back a little, the head of his cock pressing against you and easing inside your desperate walls. He grins as your arms wrap around his shoulders, lips searching for his as your hips try to squirm deeper onto his cock. He meets you in a deep kiss, but he grips your hips firmly, sliding deeper into your clenching pussy at his own content pace, groaning into your mouth at how hot and wet you are. So tight, so so tight, that he can’t stop the juvenile thought about being sure you were a virgin from flitting through his mind, but he lets it go, not about to sully this experience for you with his own pussy drunk stupidity, closing his eyes and falling deeper into the kiss, forcing you to slow it and calm down for him, echoing your whimpers with tiny groans of encouragement.

His thrusts are as steady and measured as they can be with the way your walls suck him in, pussy lips stretched wide around the thicker middle of his shaft. Every time he pulls out he can feel the way your body is trying not to let him go, and every sink home is accompanied by a shaky little exhale from you that sets a fire so deep in his gut that Kishibe is sure the whiskey is the only reason he hasn’t fallen to pieces yet. You’re so pretty and needy sprawled about beneath him, so sunk to pleasure that you’ve resigned to just taking what he gives you and it’s addictive. His cock throbs as he listens to your mumbled little slurs about how good it feels, and he has to pause, breathing deep and hard as he wills down a sudden and fierce urge fill you with cum.

Kishibe chuckles as he sits up and you let out a whine of disapproval, but a slow roll of his hips changes your tune immediately. You’re sucking him in greedily, your clit swollen and damn near begging for attention. He brushes it gently with the back of his knuckles, hissing as you squeeze him in response, getting impossibly wetter around his length. “Doing so good for me, how are you feeling?”

“More, want more.” It’s barely intelligible with how breathless you are, tears leaking from the corners of your eyes down your temples. Your face is so sweet, so open, trusting and needy and suddenly Kishibe can’t find it in himself to draw it out on you any longer, is done handing out pleasure piece by piece, as if he were passing out candy to savor. He wants to pour pleasure over you, wants you to drown in it, to fall so deeply into it that there’s nowhere to surface to, lost in an endless sea.

One strong arm slides under your hips and pulls you up into a better position, fingers digging into your hip as Kishibe begins to fuck you in quick, steady strokes. His forehead is pressed to your chest, cheek in plush of your breast as he controls his groans, a dark satisfaction choking out the last tendrils of guilt as your fingers desperately weave their way back into his hair once more, cradling his head tightly to your chest. There’s no more irritation; the sharp sting feels like a fucking prize, knowing that the price is an overwhelming pleasure that he can feel through you. You feel so good around him, responding so well to his movements, angling your own hips and moving back into his thrusts, that he can’t stop a continuous stream of curses and praises from melting into your skin.

“You’re doing so fucking good for me sweetheart, so good. Squeezing me so tight, wrapped around me so perfect. You feel good? Everything you fucking wanted, hm?” He bites at the flesh of your chest as you tighten around his dick, goosebumps rising visibly across your skin.

You feel like a live current, so electric and buzzing with energy and it feels like there’s nowhere for it to go, zipping up and down your body only to return, shivering and sparking deep in your belly. You try to articulate that this is way more than you ever thought you could ask for, but all that comes out are bitten hiccups of his name and yes and please please please.

Kishibe is more than happy to oblige, grunting and groaning in his throat, way past the point of feeling guilty that you’re losing your virginity on a goddamn couch, too caught up in your drunken slurs, more from pleasure than whiskey.

He grins as your fingers clench around his bicep, scrabbling as you gasp out, "Ohh, nngh—Sir wait, wait! Please I'm gonna—"

"Go ahead, sweetheart." Kishihe groans, feeling the rippling constrictions of your sweet pussy drag him closer to the edge.

"No, I'm—I'm gonna pee! Please."

Kishibe’s s head picks up off your chest immediately, and his thrusts stuffer. "Yeah?" You watch panting as his eyes sharpen, hips coming to a full blessed stop. You feel a bare moment of relief before its ripped away and he's moving again, fucking you a little faster than before. "Then go ahead."

You give a wordless cry, shame and pleasure clamoring in the shrill note, your head shaking back and forth in denial. You can't hold it, not if he does that.

"No?" Kishibe feels like the Devil himself as he shifts his angle into a grind, still fast and controlled, watching your features twist as you keep fighting to hold it back. "Am I not making you feel good?"

"Sir!" Your whine draws the title out, panicked, but your knees dig tightly into his hips, your body at least betraying you. Kishibe works a hand under one of your thighs and presses it towards your chest. One of his palms drags down over your tits, stroking down your stomach to put a gentle pressure over your pelvis. Your eyes fly wide and a moan is forced from your lips as the awful urgency thickens, bliss flooding close to the surface.

"If I press here you won't be able to stop it."

Kishibe's stare catches your glazed eyes, dark and hungry. His orgasm is approaching steadily now, pleasure whispering selfish instruction in his ear, and he's unable to help but listen. "You'll come so hard it won't matter anymore. What's a little mess for some pleasure, hm sweetheart? If you want it just tell me."

Your breath catches. His dick keeps hitting that spot in you that makes it impossible to think rationally. He's making you feel so good, goading you in that voice of his that you've worshipped fervently night after night in your apartment, a pillow as your altar.

The voice in your head is screaming no. It's pee. He'll think you're disgusting and you look up to him so much. You don't want him to associate you with something like this, to so thoroughly debase yourself. But he's making you feel amazing, his cock bullying all your softest parts with undefinable experience. You've heard the gossip about how your mentor likes to spend his nights, but how are you supposed to complain when he's making you feel like this? And he's the one saying you can p—

"Get outta yer fucking head and come for me, girl." Kishibe growls through his teeth, palm pressing down firmly, calloused thumb spreading over your neglected clit.

You shatter and cry out, clutching at him tightly, no room for apologies as you tear red lines down his back. Warmth gushes against his pelvis, but the hot shame holds no candle to the blistering pleasure crackling across all your nerves. Listening to Kishibe groan and curse, the feel of him breaking down into something more genuine as his hips snap roughly into yours in chase of the bliss you’re already neck deep in, you’ve never felt more satisfied. He finishes inside you with a deep grunt and your insides flutter again at the milky warmth, your leg curling tight around his ass because you want all of it, you don’t want it to end yet.

But finally, his cock twitches one last time inside you and begins to soften, and Kishibe collapses on top of you with a little puff. You’re damn near ready to purr in happiness at the full weight of him across your body. His cheek rests between your breasts, but you’re unbothered by the scratch of his stubble as his breathing gets deeper, steadier.

Both of you are covered in sweat, cum, and other unspeakables but you’ve never been so comfortable. His softened cock slips out of you, and one of his arms slips under your waist and you feel your heart thud unevenly as he moves to his side and pulls you closer. His head is still buried in your chest, your one leg tangled between his thighs and your other draped over his hip. His eyes are closed, breathing deep and you find it in yourself to cautiously run your fingers through his hair. Kishibe gives a soft, sleepy rumble of contentment and you glow.

The feel of his hair between your fingers is the last thing you remember before the most luxurious drag of sleep tempts you into its clutch of darkness.

You wake somewhere you don’t recognize, your head thick and pounding awfully. You blink slowly in the low lighting and try to sit up, but your head spins and the pain increases so you let yourself fall back with a low whimper.

You turn on your side, fingers curling into the soft covers over you. Last night had been amazing, but you’re certain you had passed out on on the couch, and as you peer around the curtain-darkened room, it’s easy to tell it’s not the same. You don’t remember being moved; you’d like to say you would have woken up if someone had, but even you can smell the alcohol seeping from your pores.

Heart pounding unevenly, you try to calm yourself. You’d been dressed in a soft pair of boxer briefs and a tshirt far too large for you, and while you still feel a little bit sticky, you honestly had expected far worse—someone had tried to clean you up. Your heart starts to race now, fluttering and far too fast at the idea of Kishibe taking care of you. Those are a lot of extra steps to take for someone who preached respectable distance.

“There’s painkillers on the nightstand.”

You finally manage to sit up at the promise of pain relief, seeing the foil tablets and a glass of water, and glance at Kishibe in the doorway, looking about as disheveled as you expect you do. He’s in a loose tshirt and a soft, worn looking pair of sleep pants, blinking sleep and liquor from his eyes as he peers in at you.

“I’m gonna shower, you should too. There’s towels in the bathroom there.” He nods his head deeper into your room and you see another doorway, probably leading to the bathroom. “And you’re out of luck on breakfast. All the place has is coffee and water.”

Your stomach gives a displeased turn at that, desperate for something to offset last night’s alcohol. Before you can say anything, not even so much as a thank you, Kishibe turns and shuffles down the hall.

Slowly, you ease out of the bed and gratefully swallow down half the water before even glancing at the pills, but your screaming head does make sure you toss them back as well, before you peek down the hallway your mentor had disappeared down. You hear the sound of running water and follow it, wandering through the doorway to the room he obviously slept in last night, the bed an unkempt mess of blankets. The door to the bathroom is closed, and there’s already steam filtering through the gaps.

Letting an uncharacteristic determination carry you forward, you open the door and begin stripping off your clothes.

“Get out, sweetheart.” Kishibe’s voice sounds tired and distant, filling you with nerves that you refuse to let show on your face as you ignore him slip into the shower.

He’s working soap through his hair, leveling you with a deeply unimpressed look that would have sent you skittering before last night, before he called you his sweet little mess, before he called you good fucking girl. You take a deep breath and speak your mind.

"I want that again."

His response is flat, immediate. "Not gonna happen."

"Why not? Was it not good?" You look embarrassed and distraught at the thought and Kishibe heaves a sigh.

"How good it was has nothin’ to do with why we can't do this again."

“So you regret it?”

Kishibe isn’t sure where he stands on that yet. “Didn’t say that.”

"But then..."

"But what? I told you this was a bad idea didn't I? You should've chosen someone else. Anyone other than me."

You get a little salty at that. "I might be younger than you," Kishibe gives a sardonic huff "—but I'm still old enough to make decisions for myself."

"Old enough to make your own decisions, huh."

You shift under the water as he gives you a tired stare, his gaze sharpening into something more contemplative, glinting dangerously.

"So you're saying you want that again?" Kishibe questions calmly.

"Yes," you whisper, uncaring if it makes you sound desperate.

"If we do I've got some stipulations," he warns, voice low.

"Like what," your breath hitches as he leans closer, the water getting hotter against your back as he reaches past you to adjust the temperature.

"Well for starters," he grumbles, "I don't have any interest in going to your place. It's here or nothing."

"Fine." Your response is immediate, relief coloring your tone that you're not being immediately shut out.

"And this arrangement will be temporary, no matter how long it goes on," Kishibe continues slowly, his fingers coming up to pinch your lips together, cutting off whatever you were opening your mouth to say. "I'm not the kind of man that would treat ya like you're nothin'. I'm gonna tell you you're sexy when I've got you under me and I'm gonna clean up whatever mess I make of you, so I need to know you're not going to confuse common decency and respect with love, got it?"

You nod slowly, struggling to wrap your mind around the weight of his words. What he doesn't know won't hurt him, you just want more of whatever you can get. It's just a crush, maybe you'll figure out how to squash your feelings somewhere down the line. So you get a little hurt along the way, so what? You're not entirely sure how any of that is a problem and why he looks so serious.

"Anything else?" He hasn't spoken for a minute, but you can still see deep thought etched into his expression.

Kishibe glances at you, soap dripping from his hair down his neck. "Yeah, one more thing."

It's the most damning thing. Makima herself would be proud of him for this. This kind of thing is more her style, but he's already made it this far.

"Ya have to join the civilian sector."

He senses more than feels you stiffen behind him, closing his eyes and beginning to rinse his hair out as he waits for you to speak first. He's not blind, not anymore—after last night he'd really have to be to not understand the way you've been looking at him, probably since the beginning. Kishibe doesn't know how he didn't see it sooner, probably willful ignorance. But his eyes have been opened and he can't unsee it; you're a brat; you wear your heart on your sleeve, and for whatever reason…its flag is flying his colors. So he's going to use that, and you can thank him when you survive the year.

"Join the civilian sector?" Your voice trembles.

Kishibe glances down to see you chewing your lower lip. "Or quit. Find a cozy desk job somewhere. Either works."

"Why?" Your demand is fierce but it's weak; you look like a scruffy little kitten that needs shelter but too scared to come out of the rain. Kishibe can see you crumbling already, making his final stab. Why you'd want him this bad is beyond him, but dirty tactics have never been beneath him.

"If we're doin’ this, you're going to be available to me when I want you. Otherwise I can find others, like I've been doing. Finish up in here, and I'll make some coffee. Might as well go to the office together."

Despair crosses your features, and Kishibe lets the silence do the last of the work, stepping out of the stream and reaching for a towel. He makes quick work of drying off and getting dressed, bones aching for coffee. Curiosity pangs deep in his nerves as he wonders why killing yourself in Public Safety is even worth that expression, and why he’s equally as important as whatever it is. He tries to put it out of his mind and fails, fingers tapping on the expensive countertop.

As the coffee percolates, Kishibe hears the water shut off and the mental image of you stepping out of his shower flickers through his mind, ghosting along the memories of the way you felt beneath him last night. He tries and fails to admit to himself he’s not coming out entirely on top in this situation.

When you finally slip into his kitchen, dressed in your crumpled uniform from last night, you’re no longer wearing that brokenhearted little face, and Kishibe braces himself for whatever little pep talk you managed to give yourself while he was gone. He pushes a mug towards you and the sugar he somehow found while he was waiting.

“I have my own stipulations,” you grumble finally, accepting the mug without looking at him, spooning sugar into it. He wants to wince at the shriek of metal on glass as you stir, but he doesn’t.

“If I have to quit the hunter society to be ‘available to you’, then you have to be available to me.” Your eyes are a little heated as they finally meet his, and Kishibe gives a noncommittal hum. “Meaning you don’t get to sleep around. Just with me.”

Ah. Makima would be proud of you too, Kishibe muses to himself. He decides to let you feel that victory and puts on a show, feigning annoyance. He drums his fingers on the counter and gives you a dry, measured look. “What, sweetheart, want me to get tested or something?”

You rise to his bait, snapping a little. “Maybe that’s a good idea.”

“Fine.” He shrugs and sips his coffee. “Maybe you should too, since you’re so worried about my health.”

Embarrassment burns your cheeks at the thought of making that appointment, but you push through it. “Fine, I will. I’ll be needing to get on birth control anyways.” The barest hint of shock flickers through his expression before he slams it back to its usual tired smirk.

“Anything else?” He asks, sarcasm barely kissing the edge of his tone.

Your thoughts scramble to all the things you’d listed to yourself in the shower but with him looking at you like that, bemused, confident, smug, you forget most of them. You latch onto one thing and give him a glare. “I get a key. And I can sleep here whenever I want. I’m not waiting outside in the cold to be your booty call.”

Kishibe gives you a look and starts to pull a pen out of his jacket but changes his mind. He watches all the bravado and irritation drain from your expression as he steps into your space, melting into something else, something expectant, electric. He pretends he doesn’t see it, pretends that his blood doesn’t pick up at the sight of it, and whispers the passcode to the apartment, so close to your ear that he could bite it. Could.

He pulls back and listens to your shuddering exhale, tilting your chin towards him. “That’s for you only. I don’t give people access to my personal space, got it?”

You nod dumbly, eyes wide and body hot as his dark eyes flicker to your lips.

“Then I guess we gott’a deal, sweetheart.”

#kishibe x reader #kishibe smut #csm x reader #csm smut #chainsaw man x reader #chainsaw man smut

1K notes · View notes

chelseasdagger · 1 year

Text

Alone And Forsaken

Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: After a close call with infected, you and Joel return to your safehouse and try to stay warm during a cold night

Warnings: smut (18+!), sex (unprotected), cockwarming, cursing, gun mention (briefly), smut with very little plot, Joel hasn’t cockwarmed in over twenty years

Author’s Note: This is my first Joel fic so I'm a little nervous but I love the idea of him cockwarming/having sex again after so long and he's desperate oops. Much thanks to @chellestrash for supporting me through this fic! Feedback is greatly appreciated! :)

Word Count: 5.2k

Joel mutters in his sleep. Most nights, it was whispers of his late daughter’s name; the sorrowful memory of that night replays in his mind even after twenty years. Other times it was restless grunts and warnings of clickers as he tossed and turned on the small mattress. It doesn’t matter whether you were in a somewhat protected military zone or in the uncertain darkness that lies outside of those sanctioned areas. When the sun sets and the anxiety dies down just enough to finally slip into unconsciousness, you’d hear the distressed mumbling beside you that made your chest grow tight all over again.

The two of you have just returned home—or, whatever you could call the four walls that were miraculously still standing. It was more of an improvised safehouse while you traveled beyond the patrolled Fedra walls to make your drop offs. The house was small but dependable, especially once Joel had gone and fortified the decaying wood that was barricading the doors and windows shut. Perhaps you could consider it safe in comparison to the rubble and debris surrounding it, not to mention the absolute luck that there were no cordyceps in the immediate area.

Smuggling isn’t exactly your favorite job when it comes to ways of earning supplies, but you suppose it’s better than the depressing things that Joel does for a few ration cards. He’s the one who got you into helping him after showing you just how good the payoff was and, if you’re honest with yourself, you enjoy the time alone with him. He isn't easy to read and his rough voice comes across harsh to others but the longer you’re around him, you begin to pick up on his true intentions behind his sometimes cold front.

Your name rings through your ears, pulling you to the present and away from your abandoned train of thought. It sounds nice to hear Joel speak it, despite his deep, rough shout. You quickly stand and make your way over to the wooden bookcase that’s lying diagonally over the back door to the house. Planting your feet on the ground, you push it so that it’s standing upright again and twist the small lock on the doorknob.

You open the door and the sounds of the thunderstorm grow louder, a flash of lightning illuminating Joel’s silhouette. His back is facing you as he checks the surrounding area once more, gun in his hands as he slowly turns before entering the house.

“It’s clear,” he holsters his gun, “no signs of clickers or infected,” he sighs heavily, closing the door gently behind him. He steps past you and into the house, immediately moving furniture in search of cracks in the floorboards. He often forgot exactly where he left his supplies due to the different safe houses you two frequent on the smuggling route. You watch as he knocks the toe of his boot into an area of the wood underneath the dusty rug. The sound is hollow and he immediately kneels to the ground to start removing the slotted wood.

“You’re sure?” you ask uncertainly, your voice a whisper in the otherwise quiet room. It was rare that you questioned him, but your fear got the better of you. The way he freezes with the floorboard piece still in his hand has you worried you overstepped, and you hurry to explain.

“I-I don’t mean to—it’s just that, well, I wanted to be absolutely certain,” your words come out faster once he looks over his shoulder. He stares up at you, glancing over your features while resting his hand on his knee. You pull your lip between your teeth, nervously thinking of his potential reaction to your words.

Your expression gives your anxiety away and he sighs gently, his eyes scanning over your face. His own features soften and you watch his shoulders begin to slouch before he’s standing up and silently walking towards you.

“Tonight was too close and I’m…” he trails off, his eyes focusing on something behind you, his mind going elsewhere. After a moment he looks to your scared face again and continues, “I’m sorry I made the wrong call.”

Joel hangs his head in defeat and you wish you could take away the guilt he feels. The rain patters gently on the roof but you still hear his frustrated exhale over the noise. He brings a hand to the back of his neck, scratching at the grey hair brushing his skin there. After clearing his throat, he continues, his southern accent wound around his words.

“I thought it was clear I… If I hadn’t gotten there—”

“But you did,” you cut him off before his mind has time to spiral. Joel always takes responsibility for every mission no matter the importance. There’s been times in the past where he thinks back on what went wrong and makes a mental note of how to improve next time, but not without holding some resentment for his flawed actions. You know tonight was more serious, what with the clicker’s gnashing teeth nearly grazing your neck, and you wanted to try and spare Joel some of the self loathing.

A shiver suddenly works its way down the back of your neck. The icy touch runs along your spine and spreads throughout your body, causing you to shake slightly. He watches your involuntary movement and looks down at your hands that are balled around the cuff of the wet jacket you’re wearing.

“C’mon, let’s get you out of those clothes,” he speaks up again before turning away. His wet footsteps echo out on the wooden floor as he steps towards his backpack. You wind your arms around yourself as he slings his bag over his shoulder, walking back to you and leading you to one of the unused rooms down the hall.

The both of you typically would stay in the main space of the house, with access to windows and a kitchen within close distance. But in moments where some privacy was needed, you’d have the extra rooms of the house to change or get some time alone. He entered the small bedroom first, quickly scanning it with his flashlight. Once deciding it was clear, he gives you a small nod before dropping his bag, leaving the room, and pulling the door shut behind him.

Crouching down to his bag, you open it and find two thick flannels folded at the bottom beneath the few cans of food and extra boxes of ammo. Discarding your wet jacket and soaked shirt underneath, you pick up a dry one from his bag and hold it in front of you. You think of the last time Joel wore this one and how the blue plaid pattern brought out the tan in his skin.

Slipping your arms through the sleeves, you pull the material closer to your body. It’s a lot softer than most of the shirts around nowadays, most likely the material being worn down by all the years Joel has been wearing it. There’s a small tear under the arm on your right side but other than that it’s in great condition.

You untwist the collar of the shirt as you make the fabric sit smoothly against your neck. Your fingers move down the lapels of the flannel and you pause for a second before raising it to your face. The collar smells so deeply of him and you shut your eyes as you inhale his scent.

His heavy footsteps sound out through the house and you hear them from the other side of the paper thin walls, pulling you from your thoughts. You quickly straighten the edges of the shirt before slipping the black buttons through their holes and making your way back to the living room.

Joel is back in his position on the worn couch. His back is straight as a board, a physical display of his alertness. He’s squinting his eyes as he peers between the slotted wood boarding up the windows, watching the outside area nearby. You’d often find him like this, making mental notes of the surrounding environments or how many exits a building had. It makes you feel safe, but you wish there was a world where he didn’t feel the need to do that instinctively.

You notice he’s wearing only his denim button up now, having ditched the soaked jacket. The heavy bookshelf is back in place as well, blocking the only entrance to the house that isn’t boarded up. Your eyes fall to the ground and notice there’s no makeshift alarm. Checking the other door in the living room, you notice it’s clear of any liter as well.

“No glass?” you ask quietly, stepping deeper into the room. Joel turns at the sound of your voice, watching from his spot on the torn couch cushion.

“Just clickers and infected for the next few miles. If we don't make a fire, we can’t draw people in. So yeah,” he’s cut off by his groan as he places his hands on his knees to stand up, “no glass.”

“Right…” you trail off, trying to ignore the excitement in your chest as he steps towards you. “So no fire tonight? That’s going to be a little rough,” you let out a bitter chuckle.

The weather had been unkind as of late and it was taking a toll on you. Joel saw the shakes your body gave under the unforgiving wind, despite him lending you extra jackets to wear under a thick winter coat you happened across. The past few nights in particular he had been burning low fires as you two were in the woods; he assured you the tree line helped disguise the smoke. But you know the risk of shedding light near open streets, even if you desperately wanted the heat anyway.

“Well, ‘m sorry,” Joel begins, his hands working their way to their usual spot on his hips. “We can’t—“

“We can’t run the risk, I know,” you sigh heavily, finishing his sentence for him. “I just wish there wasn’t a risk—“

The sudden crash of thunder catches you by surprise, making you jump away from him. Distant sounds of clicker screeching fills the air next and you don’t have enough time to fix your confident facade that slips. Joel notices it, and he sees the fear in your eyes despite the smile you flash at him and the dismissive laugh that follows.

“Jesus, you’d think I’d get used to that by now,” you chuckle, folding your arms across your chest. He sees through the act you’re putting on and sighs quietly. Wordlessly, he takes another step towards you, closing the distance and pulling you into him.

His body is warm and his strong arms feel gentle as he embraces you. This was a first between the two of you, even the smallest moments of intimacy being somewhat of a struggle for him. He’s never said it aloud but you’ve picked up on the signs after months and months of knowing him. The one thing you never do, however, is force him to open up to you. Not even after hearing his broken whispers as he recalled the events he’s had to witness.

You don’t realize how much you need his touch until he’s giving it to you, and now you don’t want to go without it. His arms around you feel like they’re holding you together enough that you can allow yourself to relax completely. It’s the first time in, well forever, that you feel like something else is barring the weight for you. And you can’t help yourself from unwinding in his hold.

You let yourself sink into his chest, your head resting below his collarbone as you inhale shakily. His heartbeat sounds out rhythmically into your ear and its predictable, repetitive pattern soothes you instantly. Slowly but surely, you’re able to bring in deeper breaths of air as your hands grab at his large back tightly. Everything else in the room fades as you squeeze your eyes shut—everything except for him.

A few moments pass and Joel begins to loosen his hold on you. His hands leave your back and begin to pull away, but you don’t let go. It must’ve dawn on him that you needed him more than he realized, because he goes back to holding you after clearing his throat gently.

You don’t want to push his boundaries or make him uncomfortable, so you bring in two big breaths of air before untangling yourself from him. He stares down at you, his eyes scanning both of yours quickly, and you feel as though you could melt under his gaze. Your feelings for him had always been there, but after that display of affection? You know you’re wrapped around his finger now.

Joel looks as though he’s about to say something; his lips part as his eyebrows pull together, but you speak before he can.

“So…” you trail off as you swing your arms awkwardly. You don’t have anything else to add; your fear of what he might say overpowered any ideas you had before you opened your mouth. His eyes fall to your hands, which are still moving, and you become painfully aware of how odd you’re acting.

“So!” you wind your arms around your chest, “What’re we thinking? Living room or one of the beds?” you ask with a joking laugh. The confusion on Joel’s face is plainly there in his rough features, but thankfully he drops it. He clears his throat once again before nodding his head towards the hallway you left just a moment ago.

“Figured we’d use the beds, since they’re there. Those sleeping bags have been killing my back,” he rasps out as he places his palm over his lower spine. He shakes his head gently, almost as if he’s reliving the pain of the sore muscles the next morning. When he glances back up at you he lets out a small chuckle, muttering, “‘M gettin’ too old for that.”

The fact that he chooses to laugh off the awkward moment has your heart tightening in your chest and a genuine smile finds its way back to your face again.

It takes only a few minutes for you and Joel to move your bags and other supplies into the new room. He doesn’t bring up the extra seconds of comfort you relished in, or the slightly embarrassing aftermath of the moment—which you’re immensely thankful for.

The mattress is, unsurprisingly, stiff and you swear you can feel the springs each time you move to get comfortable. It’s silent other than the shuffling of your clothing and Joel’s quiet breathing. Your back is facing him but you can faintly feel the warmth radiating from his body. You want more than anything to pull him closer, to spare you both from the drafty walls of this old house, but you aren’t sure you can muster up the courage.

The minutes slip by as the rain patters gently on the glass of the windows. The storm is finally settling down now and you catch the shadows of the rain through the glass; the image is projected on the wall as the droplets roll down. It’s times like these where the world seems so peaceful, you almost forget about the threats of this new world.

“Are you asleep?” your whisper cuts through the silence like a knife. There’s a pause, and for half a second you think he might’ve drifted off.

“‘M too cold to sleep,” his raspy voice sounds out, and you can’t help the chuckle that falls from your mouth.

“Yeah… yeah me too,” you admit to him. The silence that falls after you speak feels thick, and you’re once again regretting your choice of words.

You do though find comfort in his presence. Having him close makes you feel safe, but it does nothing to help the chittering of your teeth. You let out a long sigh as you rub your hands over your arms, attempting to use the friction to warm up.

“Do, uh… Do you want me to help?” he speaks up out of the darkness.

“How?” you ask with sincerity. There’s only one thing you could think of that could fix this situation at all, and you doubt he’d do it.

“I don’t…,” he trails off, trying to rack his brain for an answer. “‘M not sure. We can’t have the fire—,” he begins to explain, but you cut him off.

“No, I know, Joel, it’s okay,” you sigh. There’s a long pause after you speak and you just wish he would get the hint already. As the seconds pass the shiver in your bones grows tiring, and you finally cave in.

“C-could you… hold me?” And again you’re met with silence. Joel doesn’t say anything and you clammer to explain. “Just, y’know, it’d be warmer if you… We’d share heat that way.”

He lets out a deep grunt and you can’t help but worry that he’s hating the idea. You feel paralyzed, too scared to check over your shoulder to see his reaction. The pulsing grows in your chest and you fear you’ve overstepped again.

Joel’s arm lightly curls around your waist, and you nearly flinch from the contact. Your entire side lights up and you inhale shakily, his touch feels burning hot as it spreads through your body. The next thing you feel is his chest pressing into your back, his scent filling in the air around you.

You bite down on your lip, determined to not spoil the moment with your clumsy words. You’ve never been this close with him before, despite your crush that’s developed over the months. He’s so much warmer than you could’ve ever pictured all of those nights under the fire, longing to be in this exact situation.

Joel moves his hand down to hold your lower stomach instead but you feel his arm tense up. He begins to speak but cuts himself off, opting to move his hand back to its original place. It’s slightly reassuring to see him acting stiffly as well. It reminds you that you’re not alone in the newness of it all.

“Is that… Does this feel alright?” he mumbles, uncertainty clear in his voice.

“It’s good. It’s uh, it’s warm,” you chuckle lightly, moving your palm to cover the back of his hand, “thank you.” Your fingers wrap around the bruises on his busted knuckles. He doesn’t say anything else, but he nestles his fingers between your ribs and the mattress.

You try your best to focus on his body and not on the cold, but your brain has other ideas. Each rise and fall of his chest has him pushing against you and he’s so close you can feel his breath on your shoulder. Every second that passes makes your awareness of him worse and worse.

A shiver runs its course through your body again, a sign of the chill still deep in your bones. He doesn’t mention it but wraps his arms tighter anyway. The close grip does nothing but make you crave more of him. An idea pops into your head suddenly, and you don’t give yourself a chance to second guess it and back out. You push your ass back into his crotch and his hand immediately leaves your ribs, trying to stop you from doing it again.

“Don’t,” he grunts behind clenched teeth. His fingers dig into your hip tightly and your breath catches in your throat. He’s never sounded this rough with you but the rasp in chest makes you grow hotter between your thighs.

“C’mon, Joel,” you nearly whine, “it’s so cold.” You roll your hips back again, pushing yourself against his bulge once more. His grip on you tightens and you immediately stop.

“That’s a bad idea,” he whispers gravely. The air around the words ghost over your neck and goosebumps start decorating your skin. The gruff tone of his voice does nothing but add fuel to the fire in your lower stomach and you press your thighs together to try and get some relief.

“We don’t have to—not, not all the way, I mean.” You sigh defeatedly, knowing you’ve probably ruined your chance at sparking more than a friendship between the two of you. Each bout of silence feels worse than the last, but this time you feel like if you speak at all you’ll destroy everything.

A weary sigh comes from behind your shoulder, the breath blowing your hair lightly. You swallow thickly as you feel his hand move and hear his belt buckle sound out a second later.

“Shit,” he mumbles, and the sound of denim shifting grows louder. His jeans are kicked off and tossed onto the floor as he presses his lower half against you again. You can’t believe it’s actually happening, that he’s truly considering this.

“Are you sure about this? We don’t have to do this, any of it, if you don’t want it,” the words leaving his mouth are barely audible. You finally turn your head over your shoulder to look him in the eyes, nodding gently before whispering, “Please.”

He swallows heavily and glances down between the two of you. You follow his gaze and see his cock, still mostly soft, and you reach down to hold him. The groan doesn’t quite leave his chest as you wrap your fingers around him, gently pumping him in your hand twice before lining him up with your entrance.

Joel slowly guides his hips to follow your movements, pushing inside of you. Even when he’s soft you can feel the decent size he is, and as the seconds pass, you feel him grow bigger inside of you. He doesn’t speak during it, but you hear the way he’s breathing through gritted teeth.

“Sorry, I can’t help—,” he cuts himself off as his fingernails dig deeper into your side. You’re not sure how much bigger he’ll get, but you’re beginning to feel the stretch of his thickness. Feeling him slowly fill you from the inside is a sensation you’re not used to, but you let out a pleased hum from how much warmer you are.

His cock continues to get harder and his fingers let go of you just to grab you tight again. It’s almost as if he feels guilty for his body’s natural reaction, but he can’t fight it either. You feel him give a faint twitch and you clench around him instinctively. His forehead presses against your shoulder as he sighs loudly, his now swollen tip pressing into your lower stomach.

“I don’t think either of us will fall asleep like this,” you speak up in the silence. He’s hard and heavy inside of you and you can feel each vein along his cock. He groans again before pushing himself up, changing positions so he’s on top of you. He doesn’t pull out, however, and now that he’s moved he’s somehow slipped even deeper inside of you.

He’s staring down at where you two are connected as he pants lightly, still trying to get used to the new feeling. You reach out for his cheek, cupping his face in your palm as your thumb drags along his bottom lip. His desperate eyes search for yours in the dark and you notice the shaky breath he lets out. His fingers curl around your wrist gently as he squeezes his eyes shut. He looks as if he’s in pain, but the twitching you feel inside of you tells you otherwise.

“It’s okay, Joel. You can move,” you instruct him, pulling his lip down. Those words snap something inside of him and he plunges forward, kissing you deeply. Your heart races in your chest as he begins to move forward, pressing himself deeper inside of you. His tongue glides along yours and you moan into his mouth before he breaks the kiss.

He glances back down to where he’s buried inside of you and you watch how he takes it all in. You can hear the sounds of your slick each time he pushes in, the noise so loud in the otherwise quiet room. His hips rock forward torturously slow but pull back before he can bottom out; you can’t help the frown on your face as he does it repeatedly.

“Joel, what’s wrong? Why aren’t you…” you’re not sure how to finish the sentence, but thankfully he understands. His groans fall from the back of his throat as he sits back on his calves, stilling inside of you.

“I haven’t—it’s been so long,” they’re the only words he can think of to explain. It clicks for you then that the reason he’s being so hesitant must be because of how it feels for him. You can’t help the fond smile you flash at him before reaching for his neck to pull him back to you. His lips are soft as he kisses you back and you let your hand fall from his neck to cup his jaw again. You brush your thumb along his cheek, feeling the scratchy beard tickling your palm.

He rocks his hips inside of you faster now but still, he doesn’t go as deep as he can. You try telling him it’s okay, coaxing him with little praises, but he still holds himself back. You can feel yourself craving more and an idea pops into your head.

You wrap your legs around his sides, crossing your ankles and dig the heel of your foot into his lower back. You pull him down onto you as close as you can and he lets out a shuddering moan. Rubbing your hands over his broad shoulders, you give him time to adjust to the feeling of his entire length inside of you.

Joel sniffles after a moment and you feel his hips buck into you. The head of his cock nudges that part deep in your stomach where the pleasure nearly hurts because of how full of him you are. You clench around him and he lets out a strangled cry, letting his face fall into your neck.

His lips suck on the sensitive skin below your jaw, grazing his teeth along you before biting gently. He continues to rut inside of you, never pulling back, not wanting to leave your warmth. He licks over your skin as he soothes the mark he just left on you before unbuttoning your shirt, his hand cupping your breast. The wet stripe on your neck grows cold as the air hits it and you let out a moan of his name.

“Oh, Christ,” he curses quietly, squeezing your chest under his palm. The reflection of the rain on glass illuminates his face now as he stares at you. You watch as the droplets roll down his cheeks; they glide over the lines and scars decorating his face that tell a thousand tales. He bites down on his bottom lip and you catch the way his throat tightens, the veins tensing, like he’s trying to stay quiet.

“It’s okay, Joel. I wanna hear you,” you whisper as if it’s meant for just him to hear. He looks into your eyes as his own are filled with uncertainty. Nodding your head, you watch as his composure slowly breaks down and you finally hear the guttural groan that comes from his chest.

His moans fall freely now, as if your words were permission for him to express himself. Every sound that escapes his lips turns you on even more now that you hear just how good he’s feeling. His hand drops from your chest as his fingers glide down your stomach, lighting a fire on your skin as they move. He reaches for the underside of your thigh and he pushes your knee up to your chest. With the new angle his cock pushes impossibly deeper and you gasp, your fingers tugging on the silver strands at the back of his head.

“You feel…” he groans, dragging his hips back until just his head is inside of you. “You feel so fucking good,” he chokes out before thrusting again. His fingers move to your clit, rubbing your slick over where you’re most sensitive and his touch has you clenching around him.

“Oh, fuck, Joel!” you cry out as you buck your hips, squirming under his touch. Hearing his name falling out of a broken moan, his hips stutter forward and the tempo he sets begins to falter. You feel the heat quickly growing deep in your stomach and you know neither of you will last much longer.

“C-C’mon, honey, I need you,” he grunts out louder, his southern accent coming out thicker as he rubs his thumb over your clit faster. His opposite hand squeezes your hip tightly and you feel as though he might bruise the skin from how tight he’s holding you. Your voice shakes through your whimpers as he moves faster, your body bouncing underneath his hard thrusts.

Joel thrusts inside one last time before stilling, his cock twitching as he comes. The warmth filling you while he lets out a growl of your name is the last thing you need to push you over the edge. You clench around him repeatedly, drawing out his own orgasm as you two fall apart in each other’s embrace.

He doesn’t move after that, only hides his face into your neck again as he nuzzles his nose along your collarbone. His lips cover the markings he left just minutes ago, tending to them with gentle kisses. Neither of you say anything as you let your bodies relax into one another and it’s the most relief you’ve felt in months.

Your hands find their way to his broad back, rubbing over his shoulders absentmindedly while you listen to the rain lightly patter on the roof. His weight presses into you still as he lies on top of you, the feeling grounding you as you notice the kisses have stopped for a few minutes.

Looking down at your shoulder, you see his face is completely peaceful. The regular furrow of his eyebrows is smoothed out and the nearly permanent frown has left his face. All those worried lines have disappeared now and there’s not a single mutter disturbing his sleep.

You’ve never seen him this calm and you feel an overwhelming sense of pride that you were able to give him this—the first night where he doesn’t force himself to stay awake despite his heavy eyes, or wake up in a sweat from awful nightmares.

You decide right then and there that you want to give him this one perfect night. Slowly slipping out from underneath Joel, careful not to wake him, you pick your clothes up off of the floor and dress yourself. You grab your bag and weapons before kneeling beside the mattress on the floor. Running your fingers through his hair, you press a kiss to his temple before making your way out of the room.

With one last look over your shoulder at his sleeping face, you pull the door shut silently. You take watch that night, sitting in the living room until the sun rises between the gaps in the boarded up windows, giving him one night of peace.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fic #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #every time i write a fic it gets longer than the last help #chelsea writes

1K notes · View notes

starryylies · 3 months

Note

LOVE YOUR STORIES💓💐

Simon is my favorite character; and I always think of him funding his girlfriend’s book addiction. She doesn’t spend too much money on books due to paying rent and other things.

But she loves to go to bookstores and look at books and read the first couple of pages. And as a attentive boyfriend Simon is 🥺 he takes notes of the books she touches and buys them for her.

Then he surprised her with a book bouquet💐🥺

Gonna go sob now since I don’t have a Simon in my life.😭

Simon giving you a book bouquet

Hii love! I’m sorry for not responding I had this in my drafts :(

And yes simon would definitely do that! I think he’s personally the type who won’t mention it at all at first but he always has a mental note

Ps since it was in my drafts I made it according to valentines so yes again I’m so sorry

✎ᝰ Simon who always took a note of how you loved books

✎ᝰ Simon who knows the name of all your favourite authors by the tip of his fingers

✎ᝰ Simon who also knows your favourite books and their plot

✎ᝰ Simon who always saw how enthralled you were in a good book, your reactions evident whenever there was any plot twist

✎ᝰ Simon who thought it was weirdly cute when you said you love the scent of books

Simon who now agrees

✎ᝰ Simon who loved taking you to bookshop’s discreetly in malls by never suggesting it first but always going towards the area of the bookshop so you drag him in and look at the books in awe

✎ᝰ Simon who one day saw a sad look on your face as you walked out of the bookshop with nothing

✎ᝰ Simon who was quick to realise because it’s of the ever inflating rent of your apartment

✎ᝰ Simon who then made it his goal to get you some books from wherever he’s travelling

✎ᝰ Simon who once bought a book in Portuguese just because the cover looked like a painting you like

✎ᝰ Simon who started reading books with you

✎ᝰ Simon who wanted to do something special for you on valentines

✎ᝰ Simon who decided on getting you a bouquet of books would be better because flowers die anyways right?

✎ᝰ Simon who got this idea through soaps Instagram feed

✎ᝰ Simon who searched around the whole town for books of your favourite authors, limited editions and even a signed one

✎ᝰ Simon who arranged all of the books himself

✎ᝰ Simon who felt very proud of his gift and knew you’d love it

✎ᝰღ Simon who never looked like he would be infront of his girlfriend on his knees asking her to be his valentines :)

✎ᝰ And you who ofcourse said yes :)))))

276 notes · View notes

juyeonszn · 10 months

Text

NECTAR

PAIRING kim sunwoo x f!reader

WORD COUNT 7.14k

GENRES smut ﹒ fluff

WARNINGS 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, mature language, umm age gap!! reader is like 10 or so years older than sunwoo (it’s never really specified what her exact age is), reader is also eric’s older sister, there’s a bit of spanish thrown in here lol they’re in mexico for vacation what did u expect, sun eric and hak are professional baseball players, there’s a scene where a waitress is kinda icky to reader bc she’s older, i think mentions of alcohol, sunwoo is down BAD down bad to the point of no return it’s crazy, he’s also a horny impatient little shit, soft dom!sunwoo ig idk, oral (m! & f! receiving), face fucking, handjob ish, a little bit of hair pulling, vaginal fingering, So Much Praise, UNPROTECTED SEX pls be safe!!, edging, delayed orgasm kinda, missionary position, creampie, aftercare :P, the last scene is so cute and disgusting i hate couples

SUMMARY despite being nearly a decade older than him, sunwoo’s always had his eyes on you. so when your younger brother invites you to join them on vacation, you fall right into his trap. you can’t really blame him for finally taking the bait after all these years.

MORE woah hey again 😋 this one isn’t as wild as the hyunjae fic, but it has its moments LOLL if u ever read my warnings about this when it was on my wip list, then u know that this was actually an old fic back from when i wrote for anime 😭 i changed a lot tbh but a good chunk of the original plot is still there 👍 i got inspo for the last scene from a tumblr quote my irl posted on instagram isn’t that crazy anyway….. enjoy!!

PLAYLIST nectar — wayv, tangerine love (favorite) — nct dream, delicious — the boyz, passion fruit — the boyz, horizon — jaehyun, moonlight sunrise — twice

When you agreed to go with your younger brother on a vacation in Mexico for a week with his friends, you weren’t sure what you were expecting.

You knew your brother’s friends well. They'd gone to high school together and after partly going their separate ways following graduation, decided to go on yearly trips to make up for any lost time. This year, the destinations were the gorgeous beaches of Mexico. Cozumel, Cancun, you name it. You were hitting all the spots.

Those were the luxuries of being the older sister of a professional baseball player.

From the start of your getaway, every single one of your movements felt like they were being watched. Your skin burned with the heat of mocha brown eyes staring at you. Half of you wanted to point it out to Eric, but figured you’d save yourself from the drama. Besides, you were a big girl and two could play at that game.

The first instance took place before you even left for the trip.

You lived about an hour away from Eric and since you were all taking the same flight, you thought it would be more convenient to just ride to the airport together. And because he was closer to the airport, he offered for you to stay at his and Sunwoo’s apartment. Haknyeon would be meeting you there due to prior engagements with his own team.

When you arrived at your brother’s place, you immediately regretted it. You hadn’t called before going over and Eric happened to be out, leaving you alone with Sunwoo. There was nothing wrong with him, you just hadn’t seen him in a couple years and you were afraid of it being awkward.

The younger male helped you bring your things inside, huffing when he dropped your suitcases in the guest bedroom. He wipes away imaginary sweat from his forehead, blowing out a raspberry as he turns to face you.

“Did you pack bricks in there? Why the fuck was that so heavy?”

You laugh. Sunwoo had always been quite the clown as long as you’d known him. “I’m a girl, what did you expect? We never pack lightly.”

“You can say that again,” he snorts, twisting his torso to pop his back. “Uh, are you hungry? We have some leftover takeout in the fridge ‘cause you know damn well neither of us know how to cook.”

Before you can respond, you’re distracted by the sight of him raising his arms to stretch, his t-shirt riding up to show a sliver of his abdomen. From the way his slender fingers lock above his head to the taut skin peeking behind the fabric, you’re entranced. Your brain finally comprehends the fact that Kim Sunwoo was no longer a teenage boy, but rather a grown man.

He clears his throat, breaking your trance and forcing you to stop staring. Your cheeks flush slightly as you attempt to hide the embarrassment flooding your features. His lips are pulled into a smug grin, making you aware that he caught you. He doesn’t say anything though, keeping the cocky smirk as he leaves the room. (Presumably to go to the kitchen.)

With hefty feet, you drag yourself to follow. He’s already warming up the leftovers for you as you take a seat at the island barstool, resting your chin on your palm and your elbows on the counter. Your moment from a few minutes ago is long forgotten as you become transfixed by him on the other side of the island.

It’s weird for you to think about how much Eric has matured, coming from an older sister’s point of view. But having that same realization for Sunwoo is a completely different can of worms. You watch as he extracts the container out of the microwave and opens a drawer beside him to grab a pair of chopsticks simultaneously, all without skipping a beat.

He spins on his heels to place the food in front of you, pausing when he notices that you’re staring at him again. The glint in your eyes was more wholesome than before and it made his heart stutter in his chest. He slides the container across the surface of the island, leaning closer to you.

It was almost like your gaze trapped him in a spell, taking over his actions and drawing him towards you like a magnet. He’s never wanted you as much as he did right now, seeing you in his home, sitting on the stool in his kitchen. Your eyes widen when you’ve snapped back to reality.

Before he can do anything, the sound of the front door unlocking stops him and he’s stepping away to tidy up his mess as if nothing happened. Eric comes in to greet you happily and life continues on just as it had prior to Sunwoo leaning into your personal space. He acts like it never occurred, laughing along at a stupid joke your brother made.

And for some reason, you thought he would keep pretending nothing happened. What a rude awakening you were in for.

It’s a couple days into your trip and you were sitting on a lounge chair poolside, while Eric and Haknyeon had gone to get drinks. Sunwoo placed himself in the seat next to you, his sculpted chest and torso gleaming in all their tanned glory.

He knew it was wrong of him to pine after his best friend’s sister, but how could he not? There was something about your maturity that drove him crazy. But even if you ignored that, anyone who could see would find you stunningly gorgeous. The sight of you scantily clad in a bikini was enough to make the strongest men weak.

Perhaps it was also the thrill that you were nearly a decade older than him.

At this point, you weren’t sure if the warmth engulfing your body was from the sun or the brunette’s intense gaze, but you want to push your luck, the incident at the apartment still fresh on your mind.

“Sunwoo? Do you mind putting some sunscreen on my back for me?” You ask innocently, grasping the base of the tube firmly. His tongue darts out and swipes across his lips.

She knows what she’s doing, he thinks to himself.

“Yeah, s’no problem,” he responds cooly, standing from his chair to sit behind you on yours.

You’re borderline on his lap, so close that you can feel his breath on your neck. Just to fuck with him some more, you reach behind yourself to untie your swim suit top.

You’ve been on this playing field long enough to know when a man wants you, but you’ve never been an easy target. It was like a game of cat and mouse for you. Right when they think they’ve got you, you always seem to be three steps ahead.

This little chase that you were leading Sunwoo on wasn’t any different.

His fingers dance dangerously low on your back, working the lotion into your skin wonderfully. As you’ve gotten older, your body has undoubtedly changed. The fat of your thighs was far more than it was when you were in your early twenties/late teens. Your stomach was lined with stretch marks, no two the same. But even so, you remained ever confident. You wouldn’t put up with anyone who wouldn’t agree that your so-called ‘imperfections’ were beautiful.

After a few minutes, once the trap had been set, you tied your bathing suit back. The ghost of his skilled fingers lingered as you stood from the lounge chair, spotting your brother and Haknyeon walking back.

The brunette had never been denied before. He got what he wanted without fail, and he’d be damned if this was the one outlier. He’d just have to prove to you that even though he was younger, he was more of a man than any you’d ever been with. And that was a promise.

Later that evening, the four of you had gone to your respective rooms to shower and get ready for dinner. Luckily, Eric had used his brain for something good and reserved separate hotel rooms for each of you. ‘Just in case,’ he’d said.

You did the finishing touches of your makeup and checked your phone, finding a text from your brother.

[8:07] eric: we’re all in the lobby

[8:07] eric: just waiting on u

[8:07] eric: but take ur time dear sister pls don’t rush on our account

[8:08] eric: it’s not like we have an uber waiting for us or anything

[8:08] eric: note the sarcasm btw

You roll your eyes as you grab your purse, tossing the device inside. Who was he to talk about how long it took you to get ready? You were in your thirties and you were not about to be bossed around by your little brother. Back when he was still in high school, you were the one telling him to speed up his morning process.

Your dad had gotten a job halfway across the country right before his second year and it crushed him. You remember how upset he was when they broke the news, the thought of packing up his entire life and leaving all of his friends stung. So instead, you got a well paying job and bought a two bedroom apartment for the both of you, that way he could stay and finish out the rest of high school. You made some sacrifices, sure, but you were practically done experimenting in your life. You were in your late twenties by this point, what more was there to do? You’d already graduated from university so helping out your brother was doing everyone a favor.

After living together for nearly three years, you and Eric had grown a lot closer. With such an age difference, it’d been difficult to relate to one another and bond over certain things. When he’d discovered a new phase to go through, you had moved past it years prior. You were always just out of reach from each other until then. It was like the universe itself was trying to bring you together.

Even now, both of you much older, he still calls and asks to come over to your place so he can hang out. You meant just as much to him as he did to you.

The elevator dings, opening so you can stroll towards the group of young men waiting for you. Right when they caught sight of you, you started making your way to the Uber parked under the carport outside of the hotel.

The drive to the restaurant was silent, but you could feel an intense gaze on your form. Purposefully, you’d worn your most revealing outfit. A nice tight dress to hug your matured body and some skinny heels to elongate your legs. You were thankful that your brother wasn’t the type to be overly protective, well aware that his older sister could carry her own by now. However, you think even Haknyeon had started to pick up on your actions and the unspoken tension between you and Sunwoo.

You arrived at your location for the evening, stepping out of the car gracefully. You received multiple stares from other patrons and even a few employees. You weren’t sure if it was because you were just that drop dead gorgeous, or if it was another reason entirely. Maybe they were wondering what three men who looked as young as they did, were doing with an older woman such as yourself.

You don’t have to dwell on it for too long, a host showing the four of you to a booth almost immediately. Shout out to Eric and Sunwoo for having connections.

The seating arrangement ends up with you and Sunwoo on one side, Haknyeon and Eric on the other. You had a feeling this was not a good idea. They’d dropped you right where he wanted.

When the waitress comes to take your drink order, you feel the toasty warmth of a hand on your thigh, nearly tripping you up as you point out a margarita on the rocks from the menu. After she jots everything down, she taps her pen against the tablet. She then gestures between your party.

“Are any of you dating?” she asks curiously, eyeing you with a quirk to her brow. To anyone else, it’s a normal question. Eric, Haknyeon, and Sunwoo were indeed good looking guys. (One of them was your brother, of course he was attractive— where do you think he got it from?) But you could see right through her fake act. She had to have recognized the three baseball players.

“Haha, no actually. She’s my sister.” Eric chuckles, pointing at you with his thumb. She narrows her eyes momentarily before covering it up with a sickeningly sweet smile.

“Ah, tú hermana.” She tries to laugh off, but when the boys furrow their eyebrows, she realizes it fell upon deaf ears. You fight the urge to burst into laughter at how stupid they were.

“She said ‘your sister’ in Spanish. Idiots, I swear.” You explain to the still confused table. They let out a chorus of ‘ohhhh’s in response. Learning Spanish was something you’re glad you did, seeing as you sometimes needed to translate during your trip. You would definitely hold it over them when you got back.

The waitress seems to notice how close you and Sunwoo are sitting, but doesn’t call you out on it. While the other two are oblivious to her fixation, the brunette catches on quickly, squeezing the inside of your thigh as she continues her silly little version of twenty questions.

“Cuantos años tienes?” She asks you personally, realizing that you can understand her. What ever happened to girls supporting girls?

“How old are you?”

“En mis treinta.” You answer without hesitation, not exactly telling her for the sake of your own satisfaction. The press of Sunwoo’s fingers trails upward, causing you to shift uncomfortably.

“In my thirties.”

You can sense that she wants to say something snarky to you, her opposition to your age clear as glass, but she chooses not to. Whether that’s because she wants to seem like a good person in front of the boys or otherwise, you couldn’t care less. As long as you hadn’t been disrespected. And you knew if you were, Eric and the guys would jump to defend you with all their beings.

After what feels like a millennium, she finally leaves you alone, even going to the extent of switching tables with another waitress. Was that even allowed? You’re not entirely sure, but at least you didn’t have to deal with someone rude.

The majority of the dinner goes smoothly, the drinks and the food tasting unlike anything you’d ever had. Haknyeon couldn’t stop raving about the different flavors he was experiencing. At some point you think he told the waitress to send his thanks to the chef, in true Haknyeon fashion. That was the majority. The rest of the dinner was spent in absolute agony.

A certain baseball player couldn’t keep his hands to himself, eating with one and teasing you with the other. How no one paid any attention to what was happening right in front of them was beyond you. You’d even accidentally whimpered, covering it up by pretending the food was just that good.

The check couldn’t come fast enough, your body betraying you and anticipating getting back to the hotel. Your brother had different plans, claiming that the night was still young and he wanted to have drinks somewhere else. Your disappointment must’ve been obvious, because Sunwoo comes to your rescue.

“Eric, I think your sister’s ready to hit the hay.” He pats the brunette’s shoulder, one hand on his hip.

“Oh we can head back then—“ You interrupt him.

“No no, it’s fine, Eric, I'll be okay on my own. You guys have fun, don’t let me stop you.” You dismiss him. You could get rid of your problem yourself this way. No one to bother—

“I’ll go with you. Someone’s gotta make sure you get to your room safely, N/N. Besides, I'm beat. The sun’s starting to catch up to me.” Sunwoo grins, ruffling your hair. You glare at him, your irritation coming to light for the first time since you’d landed in the country. You’d done so well at acting like he wasn’t affecting you.

“Alright sick! Thanks, Sunwoo! Hak and I will see you tomorrow I guess,” Eric says. He turns to you, hugging your side. “I'll check to see if you’re still awake later.”

And that was that. You and your brother went your separate ways, ordering two Ubers for the pairs you were in.

It took all of about seconds following the ding of the elevator reaching your floor, for Sunwoo’s lips to meet yours. You jump, wrapping your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist, his large palms supporting you from your ass. It was so attractive that he could hold you like this— showing off the muscles he’s built from all his years of playing baseball, a far cry from that scrawny kid you knew when he was younger

He fumbles with his keycard, waving it frantically in front of the sensor. There’s a flash of green and he pushes the door open wide enough to fit the two of you through its threshold. Never once do your mouths disconnect, kissing each other so feverishly it raises the temperature of the room. He kicks the door closed behind him with his foot, pressing you up against the floor to ceiling mirror-wall beside the bathroom. The heat radiating off of your body fogs up the outline of your figure.

Sunwoo can’t seem to get enough of you, groping and grabbing any part of you that he can. You have to admit, you’ve never felt so needed— so wanted— in your life. In the messiness of teeth clashing and tongues tangling, your desperation begins to run rampant. You whine as he tugs at your bottom lip.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this, N/N,” his voice is husky and breathy, his soft pants filling your ears. He pecks your bare shoulder affectionately, cupping your right breast in his hand. “How long I’ve been waiting for you to take me seriously… to let me treat you like a real man should.”

His knee nudges itself between your legs, creating some much appreciated friction momentarily, his erection prominent against your thigh.

“I know that you know what you're doing when you dress like this. All slutty and revealing, showing yourself off to everyone,” his mouth hovers over the skin of your neck, goosebumps littering the surface. “But really, you do it for me, huh? You do it on purpose ‘cause you know how crazy it makes me. You know exactly what I’ve been wanting since we got here. That’s my smart girl.”

You can’t help the small moan that erupts from the back of your throat, his words and the wet feeling of his tongue circling the area he had just been sucking on going straight to the excitement pooling in your belly. He smiles mischievously, thumb running over your clothed nipple.

You’d been so lost in pleasure that you hadn’t even realized he’d moved you to the bed, your back on the fluffy white comforter and your thighs spread apart for him. He takes a hold of the back of his collar and removes his shirt in one swift motion, pushing your dress upward afterwards to assist you in discarding it.

His eyes rake your now half-naked body, the fullness of your tits nearly spilling out from the lacy nude strapless bra you were wearing. He drags a finger along your lace covered slit, his lips curling when he watches you shudder underneath his touch.

“Sunwoo, please…”

You don’t even know what you’re begging for, just that you need it. And you need it badly.

“Please, what?” He tsks, now massaging your inner thighs, working you up just like he wants. You pout, hoping to convey the message without pleading. Embarrassment floods your body when you realize he’s not gonna make it easy for you. “Use your words, sweetheart.”

You shut your eyes, hoping to will away the sheer mortification flushing your entire being. “P-please touch me.”

This fuels his ego even further. As if it could get any bigger.

“Open your pretty eyes, baby,” he coos, leaning forward to kiss you. When you obey his request, he hooks his long fingers into the waistband of your panties. “There we go. See, good girls get what they ask for.”

He slides them off, parting your legs immediately. The cool air makes you flinch. The one article of clothing that kept you unexposed was gone now, along with the confident woman from earlier in the day.

He repeats his actions from minutes ago, his pointer finger collecting your slick as it slides through your folds with ease. The squelching sound it makes is horrifying, your shame settling back into place. He kisses the plane of your stomach gently, murmuring into the skin.

“Do you hear that, sweetheart? Do you hear how excited you are for me? There’s no point in trying to hide it anymore.”

Your eyes widen at his words, opening your mouth to say something in retaliation but he takes this opportunity to bury two fingers inside of you. A gasp leaves your throat consequently, your back arching on instinct. It had been a while since a man had set aside time for foreplay. He truly was making good on his word, treating you like a real man should.

He lowers himself, positioning his face in front of your pussy and darts his tongue across his lips before flattening it against your clit. The sensation makes you shiver, though that reaction is nothing compared to what happens next. He curls his fingers inside of you, brushing that certain spongy spot that drives you insane, then begins alternating between kitten licking and sucking on the engorged skin of your clit.

You cry out, hands flying down to tug at his hair and dig your nails into his scalp. He doesn’t appear to mind at all, more like he enjoys it, reveling in the way you’re losing yourself to him slowly but surely. It's a dream come true for him. He's finally getting the opportunity to completely ruin you after waiting for-what-felt-like-ever. Horny, teenage Sunwoo would be jumping for joy over this.

He remembers the first time he met you. Eric had invited him, Haknyeon, and other members of the team over to your shared apartment for a team bonding during their second year. The only thought in his mind upon seeing you was ‘damn, I love older women.’ You were just so sure of yourself, he couldn’t help the tightness in his pants and the thumping in his chest.

And those feelings never seemed to fade.

In fact, it appeared that they grew with time. He’d dated other girls since then, especially because he was so popular in high school and in university. Yet for some reason he could never quite pinpoint, things never worked out. They just didn’t feel like the one for him, so he’d end the relationship before anyone got hurt more than they had to. Then the yearly trip would happen and Eric would update him on your life and his crush on you would come rushing back to him.

Even when you’d gotten engaged a few years ago, nothing could stop the way his heart beat only for you and you alone. He didn’t really like the dude all that much, but expressed support for you anyway because he wanted you to be happy. After Eric told him that he broke off the engagement to pursue someone else, Sunwoo just about lost it. He wanted to hunt the guy down himself. He couldn’t fathom how one could just throw away the once in a lifetime opportunity of calling you his. You deserved the world and so much more.

Everything resurfaces and it’s evident in the way his fingers dive even deeper inside of you, his appendage lapping mercilessly at your aching clit. You don’t question him even if you wanted to, your entire body feeling like it’s on cloud 9. He takes a break from licking and sucks at the sweet spot harshly, ripping out a prolonged moan from your lips.

Your release is in your field of vision now, so close that you can nearly taste it. You attempt to buck your hips up into his mouth to chase what you’re yearning for. He senses exactly what’s happening, so he slows his assault, much to your aggravation. You can’t even help the pleas that tumble from the back of your throat.

“No no no no, please,” you sit up, your hands still intertwined with his messy brown locks. “Sun, please… why’d you stop?”

His smile is almost conniving, you swear you can see his canines peeking through. He hovers above you, caging you between his torso and the bed. “You've been having all the fun, so now I think it’s time I have some, too.”

You’re about to ask what he means, when he steps back to undo his belt and zipper, pushing down his pants in record speed. Even through the black material of his (expensive looking) briefs, you can tell he’s well endowed. You rub your legs together, still sensitive from being deprived of your orgasm, and your hunger for all of him increases immensely.

“Eager, are we?” He chuckles, switching places with you. He sits at the edge of the bed, his legs open enough for you to fit between them. You bite your bottom lip, gripping each of his muscular thighs. It wouldn’t be such a bad thing to get crushed by them. It sure would be a hell of a way to die.

He leans back onto his palms, bunching up the sheets in his fists. You move forward to press your mouths in a searing kiss, cupping his clothed erection in your hand. He groans as his teeth nearly gnash with yours. You seize the chance to discard his underwear and massage his cock. The warmth and length of it makes your mouth water, almost whimpering at how flushed it is. You can tell that he’s painfully hard in the way he’s extremely responsive to all of your touches. You swipe your thumb over his slit, collecting the pre cum that’s formed there.

After deciding that enough is enough, he parts from you in favor of ordering you to get on your knees. You maintain eye contact as you wrap your lips around him, the nerves you’d been feeling all night finally washing off. Your tongue swirls around the tip a few times before it licks a broad line from the base back up along the underside. You take him down your throat this time, massaging his balls as you do so. Your cheeks hollow out as you bob your head, your hands jerking what you can’t fit.

An erratic knock at the door startles both of you and you’re about to remove yourself from him, but he keeps you there with a large hand, urging you to continue. You listen reluctantly, assuming the person would just go away if you ignored them.

However, the knock comes again moments later. Sunwoo looks down at you. His eyes tell you all you need to know, so you don’t stop.

“Sunwoo! Hey, have you seen my sister? She’s not in her room.”

You practically choke on him at the sound of your brother’s voice, but he still doesn’t let you pause. His attention doesn’t leave you as he replies.

“Uh yeah, she’s borrowing my shower. Hers wasn’t working.” He lies. His eyes bore into yours intensely, the knowledge that he had Eric’s hot older sister right here in front of him on her knees shrouding his mind.

The brunette outside seems to find that answer sufficient enough and doesn’t interrogate further. “Okay, cool. Just tell her to text me when she gets back to her room.”

“You got it.”

His footsteps can be heard padding against the carpet of the hallway as he walks away.

Your nose brushes against the hair at the base of his cock before he cups your cheeks and lifts your mouth off of him. You take in a deep breath, keeping your hands on his dick firmly. As you regain your breathing, you leave kisses all over, starting at the tip and ending down the shaft. You feel him shudder beneath you, a satisfaction coming from knowing that you’re the one who has him so weak.

You had Kim Sunwoo wrapped around your pretty little finger.

Unbeknownst to you, that’d always been the case. Since day one. But it didn’t matter at the moment. All that either of you cared about right now was wrecking each other.

He slides his cock down your throat again, loving the sight of you getting face fucked by him. You moan around him, the vibrations causing him to grasp at your hair tightly, though you don’t mind the sting either.

“You look so gorgeous like this, sweetheart. Your lips look so pretty wrapped around me. Can’t wait until I’m inside you,” he hisses when your tongue runs over his slit. “You want me to fuck you into the mattress? Until you can’t even remember your own name?”

You release him from your lips once more, nodding frantically. It’s almost pathetic how needy you are for him, your brother’s best friend, someone nearly ten years younger than yourself. “Yes, please, Sunwoo. I want you so bad. I want you to fuck me so hard, I can’t walk properly.”

His smirk from your pleads is ungodly. He swipes his thumb across your bottom lip, pinching it between his fingers before he pulls you up to kiss you roughly. Even though he has this big dominant act up on display, you know he wants you just as much. And he conveys it in the desperate way he moves his mouth against yours with such fervor.

After a few minutes, both of you get sick of wasting time and he flips you around so you’re on your back. He nips at your neck, whispering dirtily as he pumps himself in his hands.

“The only thing I want on your mind is me, you got that?” He lines his dick up with your hole, nibbling on your earlobe while he does so. “The name Kim Sunwoo is gonna be engraved in your fucking brain after tonight.”

Without any semblance of a warning, he pushes himself in, giving you no time for adjustment. His cock fills you up nicely, better than you’ve ever been before, and the feeling alone rips a particularly loud moan out of you. “Oh my god, Sun. Y-you're so big and your cock f-feels so g-good. So s-so good.”

“You’re so tight, your pussy is squeezing me. You gonna cream on my dick?”

He gives you another one of those sly grins, where it’s almost like he’s baring his canines to you, and you swear you’ve never wanted to be ruined as much as you do now.

His pace is unrelenting, nothing but sheer power going into every thrust of his hips. His cock hits places deep inside that you didn’t know existed. It amazes you how much stamina he has and it doesn’t appear like he’s letting up any time soon.

“Sunwoo, just like that— f-fuck yes— right there,”

“Look at you, Y/N, so fucking messy and all because of me.”

He hooks one of your knees on his shoulder, plunging even further into your pussy. The mewl you release is voluminous, enough to wake up anyone in the rooms surrounding his. One of his hands holds your leg in place while the other travels south, gripping your side and using his thumb to vigorously circle your clit.

The added stimulation is just what you need to nudge you closer to your tipping point, what you were deprived of earlier. He, of course, notices that and stops his attack with his finger. You whine in protest, not wanting to deal with his teasing again right now.

You open your mouth to express your distaste at the same moment he rolls his hips experimentally. So instead of complaining about his edging, you let out a choked groan.

“Sunwoo, please, let me cum. Please, I'm begging. I need to.” You hate that you’re in this position, but you can’t hold out much longer. Fatigue is catching up to you and if you don’t cum soon, you might pass out.

“You wanna cum, baby? You want me to let you cum?” He all but growls in your ear. You moan wantonly in response, quickly becoming a babbling mess. “I think you can wait a bit longer. Take it like a big girl, yeah?”

Your other leg wraps around his waist, allowing his already buried cock to kiss at your cervix. The new angle is unhinged, short circuiting your brain. Discarding any thought behind your actions, moving on autopilot, you pull him down to press your mouths together.

The combination of passion and pure lust drives both of you wild, fueling your desires. His lips part from yours and he moans breathily as you clench down on him, the exhale fanning over the lower part of your face. The sound is unlike anything you’ve heard before and you’d do just about anything to hear it again. The brunette was completely unaware of the effects he had on you, something as simple as a noise kicking you into high gear.

But it seems even he’s reaching his limits, not able to hold himself back anymore. In an attempt to finish you both off quickly, he brutalizes each piston of his pelvis. Your nails sink into his shoulders.

“F-fuck— S-Sunwoo I’m gonna— I’m gonna cum— so fucking—“

His thumb finds its way back to your clit and resumes its previous attack, the other circling around a peaked nipple, cutting you off. You arch into him, trying to bring the two of you impossibly closer. His cock rams in and out of you almost inhumanely at the rate he was going. With one particularly harsh thrust, he commands,

“Cum for me, sweetheart.”

The words send you overboard and you release around him, simultaneously gripping him like a vice and moaning so pornographically, you kind of feel bad for everyone else staying on this floor. Your whole body spasms with your orgasm, hushed moans falling from your swollen lips. Seconds later the twitch of his dick alerts you as he follows, filling you up with the warmth of his own cum. Had he not still been inside you, you were certain it’d flow right out, something akin to Niagara Falls. But you’re both too busy trying to catch your breaths to really pay attention to any of that extra stuff.

The ache was settling in your bones instantaneously, and you half-regretted encouraging him to ‘fuck you so hard you couldn’t walk properly’.

After what feels like an eternity, he slowly pulls out his softening cock, your pussy clenching at nothing and feeling empty as he presses a soft peck on the tip of your nose, his dominant personality dissipating along with it.

The moment feels strangely domestic, his coos of praise and the worry that he was too rough with you not flying over your head. Things like ‘you did so well, sweetheart’, ‘I’m so proud of you, baby’, and ‘your pussy was made for my cock’ floated around the air. He caressed your belly with one hand and your hair with the other before pulling himself away from you fully.

“Let me go get you a towel,” he smiles warmly, disappearing into the bathroom he told your brother you were borrowing. When he comes back, he has a fresh pair of briefs on and a damp washcloth on his forearm. “You know, I‘ve had the biggest crush on you since high school. The moment Eric introduced us, I practically fell in love.”

He carefully cleans up your cum covered thighs, weary of how sensitive you are. It dawns on him that you’re fighting back your sleep, but he also realizes that you can’t stay in his room, running the risk of being compromised and Eric finding out. He helps you into a sitting position and leads you to the bath.

He washes your hair and body for you, increasing the overwhelming amount of domesticity that you already started to feel. Even with his admission, you didn’t want to assume that this was something he really wanted. You’d made that mistake before, with your asshole of an ex fiancé, and you couldn’t stomach the thought of that happening with him. He was a young, hot professional baseball player. Why would he want to be tied down to you?

With a towel wrapped tightly around your body and your clothes draped over a shoulder, he aids you in your sneaky trip to your own hotel room. You fumble a bit with the key card, nervous under his gaze for some reason. When you finally get it open, you hurriedly enter, desperate to get away from him to avoid small talk. You were a grown ass woman and here you were, acting like a petulant child.

He reaches for your wrist and stops you prior to getting too far past the door frame. “Hey, hey, what’s the matter? Why won't you look at me? Did— did I do something wrong?”

“N-no! You didn’t. I just— I don't wanna misinterpret the situation...” You betray yourself and look him in the eyes, nearly melting at the soft chocolate color staring right back. He leans forward to kiss you on the lips. It isn’t rushed or forceful like any of the others from earlier in the night. It’s more like the loving one he placed on your nose. It conveys exactly what he wants to say, but can’t put into words, and rids of your doubts all at once. You instinctively shut your eyes, a smile working its way across your face.

“I’ll see you in the morning, sweetheart. Goodnight,” is what he leaves you with, scampering off to his room.

You bring your fingers up to your lips, the stupid grin not disappearing. He wasn’t kidding when he said the name Kim Sunwoo would be engraved in your brain tonight.

The next day, the four of you visit one of the beaches. You chuckle to yourself as you observe Eric and Haknyeon attempting to skimboard, but failing miserably. Your brother flies forward when his board skids to a stop and he stumbles a bit before regaining his bearings. The older laughs at him, hunching over and clutching his stomach as he does so.

Your eyes stay on them for a bit, but your head turns at the sound of footsteps approaching you and the beach towel you were sitting on. You finally glance over when a grunt fills your ears over the crashing waves. Sunwoo leans back onto his palms, sunglasses perched on top of his head. The goods you wanted were set between you, a bag nearly full to the brim with mandarin oranges.

On your way to the beach, you passed a vendor on the street selling different fruits. Among said fruits were the mandarins that caught your attention. You pouted when you realized you left your purse at the hotel, only having your I.D. on you. Being absolutely smitten with you and having no self control, Sunwoo made a promise to himself to come back when you were least expecting to buy you as many as he physically could. (Gift giving was one of his love languages.)

He smiles as your eyes light up like a Christmas tree in August, instinctively reaching for one of the oranges. You bring it up to your nose to smell the faint citrusy scent of the rind, humming contentedly afterwards. With the summer breeze blowing through your hair, the humidity painting your cheeks rosy and the sun behind you giving you a halo-like glow, you look like a scene ripped straight from a movie. Sunwoo feels like the most fortunate guy in the world knowing that he’s the only person who gets to see you like this, committing the visual to memory so he can look back on it whenever he pleases.

He decides that he could die right here right now, and he’d be satisfied with his life. He can already see it, his headstone; Rest in Peace Kim Sunwoo, 2000-2023.

You slowly start to peel the mandarin, each corner of your lips curled upwards. You pop a piece into your mouth, closing your eyes and savoring the taste of its nectar. Without pausing to think about it, you scoot closer to Sunwoo, feeding him some of the orange. A small giggle escapes the back of your throat when he smiles again, this time at how much more comfortable you are with him. (And also how yummy the mandarin is.)

“It almost tastes as sweet as you.”

He meant for it to be an innocent insinuation, but completely forgot about the fact that it could be misconceived as an innuendo. You slap his shoulder with a gasp because that’s exactly how you took it, and he raises his hands in surrender.

“Woah, I was trying to be cute. You’re the one with the dirty mind.”

You roll your eyes, shoving a few more pieces of mandarin into his mouth to shut him up. “Kim Sunwoo, you’re lucky I like you.”

His cheeks are puffed up with the fruit and he tries to smile at you, his pouty lips making him look a little silly. You press a quick kiss to them, forgetting that you were very much in public. He turns to you with eyes like a deer caught in headlights.

“What if Eric sees?” He swallows thickly.

You shake your head. “Let him. I’m happy. That’s all he really cares about.”

It befuddles you that just a week ago, you never would’ve thought this could happen. A week ago, Sunwoo was still that high school boy who stuttered whenever he spoke to you and came over to yours and Eric’s apartment every day after school. A week ago, you were still apprehensive about putting yourself out there, out of fear that you’d just get hurt again. But somehow, Sunwoo managed to change your entire perspective. And sitting here on this beach towel, feeding him mandarins and giggling at his jokes solidifies that for you.

#the boyz #the boyz x reader #the boyz smut #the boyz sunwoo #tbz #tbz x reader #tbz smut #tbz sunwoo #kim sunwoo #kim sunwoo x reader #kim sunwoo smut #sunwoo #sunwoo x reader #sunwoo smut #juyeonszn

440 notes · View notes

coralinnii · 1 year

Note

Hi! I just wanna say I love your villain/ness au 😍 especially leonas part thank you for giving me this story as I was finding stories like this💕💕so I was wondering can I request about the tweel? Their my most favorite in twisted wonderland 🙏 it will be my outmost joy to see you write them!

and sorry if im wrong in writing this request because this is actually my first time writing a request 😅 so thank you for the understanding 😁

Being Reincarnated into a New World as the Bad Guy feat: Jade genre: drama note: set in the same universe as previous works (Azul’s ver specifically), no pronouns were used, villain/ess!reader is not a merfolk, roughly 2k word count

series masterlist

I know there's someone missing but Jade's portion got longer than I expected so I cutting it into separate posts. Floyd's part will be released soon so in the meantime, enjoy as we welcome the fourth vice-housewarden to this surprisingly popular AU.

Sorry 3aemidnight, that this is slightly subverted from the request but Floyd's part has that aspect more played into

You’re screwed. Absolutely screwed. Why did you end up in this situation?? You didn’t even read the webtoon! Your classmate was gushing over a popular webtoon and like a good friend, you lent an ear to her excited ramblings. Her favorite characters seem to be a pair of devilish merfolk brothers. It was that rambling that helped you realize where you were because you didn’t bother remembering the main cast but you couldn’t forget the name “Jade Leech” nor his partner, you.

Or at least the character you possessed that your classmate kept wishing she could be. The lucky duck that became Jade’s betrothed but you couldn’t really agree with that sentiment when she mentioned how that same partner was left behind by the Leech heir and prosecuted as an accomplice to the Leech family’s underground activities.

“What’s so great about the hopeless love trope?!”

Unfortunately, the proceedings for your engagement to the suave marquis heir was set. Putting a wrench into the plans now would cause too many issues to both families. Still, you were determined to leave this crazy story unscathed no matter what.

“Let’s make a contract” were your first words to your soon-to-be partner to which he responded with a curious quirk of his eyebrow. “a prenuptial to be precise”

“But my dear,” a shiver ran down your spine when Jade used that supposedly endearing name, a superficial one of course. “What ever could have scared you to have such worries?”

“Because I know what you and your family are trying to do”

Oh, you have piqued Jade’s interest now.

Your listening skills have paid off as you remembered the plot of the Leech family. The brothers were working to extend their family’s power above the waters and to have an “organized system of connections” with the help of the newly appointed count Ashengrotto. With their intelligence and charm, they wanted to monopolize the marine market from local fishing rights to overseas trading. Unfortunately, the main leads stood in their way and forced the native merfolk to flee to their home, leaving those associated with them to answer for their crimes.

You have no interest in being caught in the crossfire but becoming an enemy to the Leech family is not a favourable situation either. So your best option was…

“I’ll help you”

If you’re going to be accused as an accomplice, better be the best accomplice so neither of you get caught.

The greatest challenge for merfolk on land was the discrimination that was still prevalent, even after the human-merfolk alliance. No matter how charming Jade was, it was hard for the merman to converse with the more narrow-minded noblemen. It was why the Leech heir agreed to the engagement as your family was beloved and highly respected in the kingdom. Your character was just an oblivious, lovestruck pawn to his plans.

“I’ll play the perfect partner, give you the backing you need, the intel you want” you stated your terms, with no room for negotiation. “But, we’re publicly in an arranged engagement only, nothing else. We only meet when necessary and once your family secure the Triton ocean trade route, we’re breaking our engagement and never to speak to each other again”

If the Leech family weren’t caught, they would have returned to their native home anyway and controlled the trading from the safety of the ocean. Either way, Jade would have been out of your life regardless, so you should at least escape prosecution.

You weren’t falling for his gentleman facade, and you definitely refuse to be the one on the short end of the stick in his crazy family’s schemes.

You and Jade were locked in a silent stare down, waiting for either one of you to break the silence. You kept your mouth shut, not letting your nerves talk yourself down. It was this or nothing.

Your gamble paid off. Jade chuckled with a slight peek of his sharp teeth and extended his hand out, piercing your figure with a pair devilish eyes.

“If that is what my dear wishes, how can I decline?”

So sealed your deal with the devil your future ex-fiancé

Some time passed since your agreement, you joined a soirée your family was invited to. As a newly engaged couple, it was expected for you to bring Jade to which he was happy to escort his precious person (you hid your scoff). True to your word, you agree to chat with some of the daughters and wives of certain families for certain intel that Jade needed. While the ladies were more tolerant of the merfolk, they held certain prejudices over them which would affect the conversation greatly should Jade attempt to speak with them.

So off you go.

It was surprisingly easy with the chatty ladies to gather what you needed to know. They were happy to brag about the wealth and connections their families had and the businesses they controlled. The number of employers, the unknowing dissatisfaction of their workers that went over their heads, the obvious limited knowledge over the sea routes…everything came loose from their lips and will inevitably be used against them later on. Once you mentally checked off what Jade requested you to find out, you were patiently waiting to take your leave when someone decided to steer the conversation to something else.

“But enough about our families. How is your life as a newly betrothed, darling?” One of the wives brought the attention to you, which took you slightly by surprise.

“Well, our families were growing close so we decided a union would be beneficial” you smiled as convincing as you could. “While we were arranged, I’m sure it will be an amiable alliance”

“Oh, how lucky you are” one of the younger daughters congratulated as convincingly as her eyelashes were. “To be engaged to someone as distinguished and exotic as Jade Leech, your family connections must have been more impressive than I realize. I knew how enamored you were with the young heir, but to think a frumpy wallflower such as yourself managed to capture him. Good for you”

Any semblance of tolerance you had for these women had just been thrown out the window. Even if you were detached from your host character in every sense, you felt anger building in your body from their haughty words. You quickly glanced to where Jade was and he was standing but with his signature smile and charming eyes engaging in conversation with other attendees, so you assumed he couldn’t hear from where he stood.

It’s not good to hold in your anger… so you don’t.

“Interesting…if I’m a frumpy wallflower as you say, what would you be?” You pondered aloud with innocent tone of voice “bottom feeders?”

Gasps and stuttering replies were let out from the flushing women, flabbergasted by your undignified words, but they haven’t heard anything yet.

“Before my engagement, I often chatted with the current Marquis Leech and he was telling me how he was flooded by persistent engagement proposals for his heir that there wasn’t a day that a messenger wouldn’t visit the Leech residence.”

That was a bold-faced lie about your meetings with the Marquis head but you recalled your classmate’s words of the mountains of proposals the Leech brothers would get, proving their in-universe popularity despite being discriminated against. Well, it’s not as though anyone would question your source, you were engaged to a Leech afterall.

The wives may have been confused but the younger ladies were visibly shaking as they watched you with nervous eyes, either praying you didn’t know the families that proposed or if you did, you’d keep silent over it.

But you offer no such salvation from their humiliation

“Out of the countless proposals, I seem to have been chosen over the ones who reached out first. In fact, some of the interested ladies are here in attendance today, such as Lady-“

You paused abruptly as you quickly back away as one of the single daughters reached for a drink and prepared to throw it into your face in desperation to avoid being exposed. Seems like you pushed a line too far. You closed your eyes, braced for a rude splash…

but nothing came.

Surprised muttering and gasps compelled you to reopen your eyes but you were met with a lean chest and tall looming figure blocking you from the women. You leaned to the side and was shocked to see a large wet spot on Jade's pristine suit jacket, his back and shoulder drenched in champagne. You peeked at Jade's face as he wore his signature smile, appearing calm but you could have swore his jaw seemed more tight and strained as though he’s fighting something internally.

Maybe you’re just reading too much into it.

Any semblance of annoyance you thought you saw disappeared the moment the eel merman turned to face the ladies before. He placed his gloved hand over his heart and smiled as usual.

“I believe this conversation may have gone on too long. Everyone is getting a little too tired and reckless. Perhaps we should cut the night short tonight, do you agree?” Jade proceeded to rest his hand on your shoulder, looking at you with faux concern. “Shall we take our leave, my dear?”

Stomping down the involuntary shiver, you nodded and turned to walk away without saying goodbye to the ladies or even waited for Jade to walk with you. At least Jade had some strength to offer a bow and a smile before joining you. However, you didn't notice the way the ladies silently flinched in fear when they saw the dangerous glint in the young merman's mismatched eyes.

“I never realized you had such a fiery tongue,” Jade commented as the two of you make your way to your carriage, to which you clicked your tongue in annoyance.

“So you were able to hear everything” you chose to change the topic. “You better not say anything to your father about what I said today. I needed to use an excuse”

“You needn’t worry, my dear. I’m simply impressed you knew about the proposal letters.” Jade ended his words there, but you knew he was curious to know your sources, especially since it pertains to the ongoings in the Leech residence.

“I heard some things, that’s all I’ll say” you held your tongue beyond that, your eyes relaying to Jade not to prod further, which he conceded.

“Of course. I would never want to upset you, my dear.” Jade smiled at the slight shiver in your shoulders.

“Alright, my turn to ask questions” you stopped in your tracks, forcing Jade to do the same, enticing his curiosity as you always seem to. Your eyes stared at the stained jacket that hung over Jade's arm, having taken it off to avoid the rest of his attire getting dirty. A sense of guilt pinched your heart as you questioned him, “Why did you save me? Sure, I’ll be slightly humiliated but I can just play the victim and ruin them further”

Jade silently stood in his spot, as though he was seriously contemplating his previous actions. But you doubt that because Jade Leech does not do things impulsively. He’s calculating, his movements always premeditated and intentional.

Right?

Then, the ocean-haired man slowly walked closer to you. Carefully, he reached out his gloved hand towards your cheek and wiped a small drop of champagne from your hairline. A minuscule drop must have made its way to your face without your awareness. But Jade noticed. The cold leather glided from your forehead to your ear, to which he crept closer as he leaned down and whispered to you.

“We made a deal, my dear” his smooth voice vibrated clearly into your head and your instinctive shiver came once more from his name for you. “I plan to make good use of you and I will not permit anyone from ruining you before I’m done”

You sealed your fate with Jade, so you must commit to the end.

#disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #twst #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland imagines #twst scenarios #twst imagines #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twisted wonderland scenarios #jade leech #jade x reader #villainess au

1K notes · View notes

rogueddie · 1 year

Text

Scoops Ahoy Steddie Fics

Important: READ THE TAGS! Also, leave a comment and kudos! These fics are amazing and I love them and I hope y'all do too 🍌

STRIKE TEN.

oaseas

Steve’s striking out. It’s the summer after his graduation, he’s working 9-5 at Scoops Ahoy, and hey, did you hear? He’s striking out. Enter Robin, her ‘you rule/you suck’ board, and a promise to romance the next girl through the door. Except, that’s no girl. That’s Eddie Munson.

Words : 16,075 Chapters : 1/1 Rating : Teen And Up Audiences

AO3 : x

two bros chilling in the mall (ten yards apart 'cause we're not gay)

Gues, peytra

Steve Harrington is just your average guy working a shitty part-time job in a stupid mall. Really! He's very normal, he promises.

Just across the way, Eddie Munson works at Legacy Vinyl. He hates his job, his life, and most of all he hates having to see King Steve every single day.

What could possibly go wrong?

Words : 91,993 Chapters : 34/34 Rating : Teen And Up Audiences

AO3 : x

Maybe You're the Boy From My Dreams

ZiraC

Steve and Robin often bitch at each other. It's just a part of their dynamic. What happens when Steve accidentally bitches at a customer instead of Robin.

Words : 5,264 Chapters : 1/1 Rating : Not Rated

AO3 : x

Raspberry Riddle

madaboutmunson (BCRichSweetheart)

Eddie meeting Scoops Ahoy Steve, sort of from Robin's POV

Words : 4,874 Chapters : 1/1 Rating : Teen And Up Audiences

AO3 : x

You know you're just my type

liionne

In the summer of '85, Robin and Eddie make a bet: ten dollars says Steve Harrington is straight, and Eddie has the whole summer to prove her wrong

Words : 7,287 Chapters : 1/1 Rating : Teen And Up Audiences

AO3 : x

Maybe He's Born With It

Zigster

The one where Robin, Eddie, and Steve all work at Scoops. Robin has convinced Steve that wearing a little mascara and lip gloss goes a long way in luring in customers and Steve believes her. Friendship and domestic holiday-time enjoyment ensue with plot twists abound!

Words : 40,100 Chapters : 23/23 Rating : Mature

AO3 : x

sorry to ruin what's probably supposed to be a plot twist, but this has non-human Eddie- fyi for those who don't like that sort of au

double dare

firefencer

Nancy & Eddie working at Scoops AU

Words : 23,422 Chapters : 13/13 Rating : Not Rated

AO3 : x

Tell Me, Baby, What's On Your Mind

KiaraMGrey

All Eddie wanted to do was stop by Starcourt Mall to pick up his friend from the movies. But now he has a seemingly drugged up Steve Harrington leaning in WAY too close. And… did he seriously just call him pretty?

Words : 2,126 Chapters : 1/1 Rating : Teen And Up Audiences

AO3 : x

purify our misfit ways

laundrybiscuits

“Edward Munson,” Robin says, eyes wide in a way that means trouble. “I sincerely hope your last will and testament is in order, because your mortal soul will leave your body when you hear who just got hired at Scoops Ahoy.”

Eddie and Robin survive the summer of 1985.

Words : 23,904 Chapters : 5/5 Rating : Mature

AO3 : x

You Are My Favorite Place

god_hates_tyler

Steve goes to his first day at Scoops Ahoy and meets one Robin Buckley. She notices how god awful he is with the ladies and bets him he can't get a date by the end of the week. Steve, not one to back down from a challenge, agrees. The only issue? Steve has been in a secret relationship with Eddie Munson for over a year now.

Words : 7,356 Chapters : 1/1 Rating : Teen And Up Audiences

AO3 : x

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #fic rec #ficrec #scoops steddie my beloved #I could genuinely read the same scoops fic in different fonts and never get tired of it

528 notes · View notes

ajbullet · 5 months

Text

My thoughts on episode 4 of PJO: spoilers (chaotic edition because I JUST watched it and the thoughts are so fresh)

-First off: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

-Ok, good. Had to get that out. Second: best 30 minutes of my life

-I don’t think you guys will ever be able to fully comprehend how much I love Annabeth Chase and seeing Leah as her has only heightened that love. So imagine how elated I was to watch an episode full of my girl. She slayed, owned, and ate this episode. Whatever you want to call it. She did it

-“Are you awake?” The long-ass pause before Annabeth answered. As soon as Percy spoke, I was so hoping he was talking to her and not Grover (sorry I love him but). And then she answered

-She finally opened up to him!! We got some of her backstory!! She’s finally feeling comfortable!!!

-Percy’s face when she said she was seven. He was so surprised. I think he realized instantly how long this girl has been going through so much. They are only twelves years old. But she was a child when this began for her. Like you could tell he couldn’t believe it

-Grover mocking Annabeth was probably my favorite line from him yet. He’s so unserious I love him. Also, the food part was too relatable

-Small detail but the sky was so freaking pretty in the background. Such a unique thing to add and I loved it

-“Can I ask a dumb question?” As soon as he said it I knew Annabeth was gonna be the one to respond and she did not disappoint.

-“little girl” Annabeth’s reaction. I got chills. Leah deserves an Oscar/Emmy (whatever the actor award is) for that scene alone

-Loved Enchilada (don’t know how to spell her name and don’t feel like going back to check) but she talked too damn much. I was like get back to my kids please. Oh and back the hell up

-My BOY GOT STABBED NOOOOO. Oh he’s fine (plot twist: no he’s not)

-Annabeth took that mf DOWN for a second

-The monument!!! It was so cool!! Interesting that it’s a monument to Athena. I think I remember that from the book but either way that’s cool

-The. Entire. Conversation. Between. Percy. And. Annabeth. Oh. My. Gods.

-The fake accent??? Where did that come from?? I had to rewind twice just to make sure I heard right. Like what in Percy’s mind told him to do that? What wires crossed or came undone? How far had that poison reached? Because that was so unserious and I fell even more in love with his character

-He likeeeeeeeeeeees her

-Annabeth’s smile!! I’ve been waiting to see her smile like that and it was so cool to see! My girl is finally happy! for a second

-“You’ve done more for me in the past two days…” “If I had to pick someone, I’d…”

That required my BRAIN

-Plot twist: (again) Percy is not fine

-The splashing water was so funny. Like I get why but come on that was something else.

-Percy seeing what Annabeth has already sacrificed for him and his quest: her relationship with her mother. He sees what he has already cost her and what helping him means to her and omg it was heartbreaking

-One thing I absolutely adore about the books is that Annabeth’s intelligence is never in doubt by the reader. It’s not Percy or other characters saying she’s smart again and again with no proof. It’s not the narrative shoving the fact that she is smart in your face over and over. She proves she is smart. She proves she is inventive and strategic and intelligent by her actions and thought process and it’s almost never mentioned verbally. That whole idea of show vs tell? It’s perfectly shown through Annabeth acting intelligent instead of people talking about how intelligent she is.

Like how she splashed Percy with water or pulled the fire alarm. The viewers are shown she is smart, not just told.

-Annabeth’s willingness to sacrifice herself for her friends. Her only caring about Percy being poisoned, bot the monsters, and helping him. She knew she would die going up against the Chimera, even calls it the “demigod killer”, yet she does it anyway so her friends can succeed. She opened up to these boys and now she was giving her life for them

-Percy doing the same. Exact. Thing. The trick with the sword. The whispered words against the door, even as they shouted at him to open it. He knew for sure he would die and wanted it to be for a good cause. He didn’t even know if he could fight the chimera, but it was better him than Annabeth

-That boy looked so sick someone please help him

-oh, someone did.

-Dude I told my dad about the whole “Rick not knowing the River wasn’t right under the arc” thing and I was so excited to see how they did that and honestly it worked. Poseidon’s first way of helping Percy was by pulling him into the water, showing him to “just breathe”. My dad laughed when we watched it.

-oh I forgot! I love the first scene with Sally. Had some ptsd from swimming lessons but got to see young Percy so it was worth it

-Also the fall was shot so cool. I felt like I was falling with him

-He can breathe underwater! We knew this! But it’s still awesome!

I can’t even wrap my head around next episode. We are going to be fed so well after this short-ass episode and I am so ready. This episode already gave more Percabeth than I was expecting all season and I wanted to cry it was so adorable. This show is the only thing getting me through each week.

(Also, if you couldn’t tell, I finally figured out how to do italics instead of just capitalizing everything. Go me!)

#annabeth chase #percabetn #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson #percy and annabeth #percabeth #pjo fandom #pjo series #pjo tv show #percy pjo #pjotv #pjo #pjo disney+#pjo spoilers #pjoverse #annabeth percy jackson #percy jackson and the olympians #percy series

213 notes · View notes

bhpop · 6 months

Text

For @rose-tea-and-strawberries

{Concept art for a spider-girl Yuu someone brought up, but since I don't wanna fully put my own image of spider Yuu in case others imagined them differently, this is heavily based more on astv instead of just a general spider-man/woman Yuu}

TW: Mention of death {Yuu's Canon Event}

{In case you can't tell I added a bit of spider-Gwen [ghost-spider] to this Yuu [with the slight colored hair, losing their best friend and soon father, also this Yuu has a more Micky inspired suit since their old one got torn from their canon event and Micky felt bad so he made one for them that goes with the waiter outfits.}

I can honestly see the staff at House of Mouse along with the guest {mainly the great seven} being pretty concerned and curious of this Yuu's world/dimension since I'd be pretty understandable this Yuu has trust issues not because their villains/magical people but because they don't want to possibly lose them like how they lost their Peter/Gwen/father.

And to go deeper on the topic of spider-Yuu {mainly with canon events and more connected to the atsv plot} I like to image that before arriving at Twisted Wonderland and working at House of Mouse they just went through their canon event of losing their dimensions Peter/Gwen or father.

Along with that, since this Yuu is from another dimension and arrived in a different world {twst} they'd technically be an anomaly, since it's theorized/hinted that the spider society can only go to dimensions/worlds WITH a spider-man/woman in them. So they may tend to glitch a lot {which is canonically very painful} due to their body's genes not being from that place unless the more powerful/magical guest or staff at NRC and House Of Mouse placed a spell that prevents them from glitching.

Bonus: I believe maybe the NRC boys {especially the dorm leaders and our boy Jamil} would be a little jealous of Yuu's Peter/Gwen since they were the first ones to get close to/love Yuu, but feel bad for being jealous since you know, Yuu's first friend/lover is dead {rip Peter/Gwen but I prefer to make Peter's death this Yuu's canon event since Gwen already went through it in most other worlds}. Idia would most definitely be jealous of Yuu's Ganke though lol.

{Anyway here's Yuu's Canon event, similar to spider-Gwen's canon event since I'd just get sadder thinking of more brutal ideas for Yuu's Peter}

{So to explain this in short, Yuu's Peter was similar to Gwen's Peter and turned himself into a giant lizard, so they fight without Yuu knowing it's him and then the giant rubble crushes him and turns him back into his human form, Yuu hears his slow breaths {since he's literally dieing from being crushed} and realizes it's him but got trapped in rubble as well so they had to cut their hair off with the sharpest rock/shard of glass they could find so that's why their hair looks so messy and choppy at the bottom due to the panic and want to find and save her friend Peter, but he dies in their arms obviously. So in memory of him they keep their hair the same and never let it grow longer since they feel like they'd lose him again in a different way {+they dyed their hair his favorite color at the end, or just your favorite color in general}. Tragic.}

I'm feeling angsty 🥀💔😏.

{Honestly bonus points if Yuu was destined to die like Gwen in other dimension versions of them, everyone is going to freak out.}

#house of mouse au #twst imagines #twst yuu #twst au #twst #twst mc #the great seven #house of mouse #twisted wonderland x reader #across the spiderverse #atsv

155 notes · View notes

starkwlkr · 1 year

Note

Hi, I hope you're doing well! I love your social media aus for f1 and motogp!! I was wondering if you could do a motogp au for marc where his gf keeps being shipped with fabio and marc, even though he's a bit amused by it all, gets a little tired of seeing his gf shipped with someone else and posts about her leading to some playful banter in the comments between the two riders and friends? Thank you!

plot twist | marc marquez

faceclaim ester expósito

y/n.l/n has added to their story

Liked by pecco63, alexmarquez73 and 564,480 others

y/n.l/n fabio actually knows how to take pictures

fabioquartararo20 I’m the best 😎😎

y/n.l/n keep telling yourself that

eldiablofans are you two still in spain?

y/n.l/n yes, we’re here with some friends 🥰

motogpupdates when did they confirm their relationship? they’re cute together

y/nscorner the update account is asking when 🧍🏻‍♀️

motogpupdates I DO MOTOGP UPDATES NOT RELATIONSHIP UPDATES OK??

Liked by danielricciardo, t0m06600 and 264,409 others

y/n.l/n ❤️❤️

marcmarquez93 quien es mas guapo?👀 (who’s more cute?)

y/n.l/n el mas alto 😍 (the taller one)

marcmarquez93 🙃

fabioquartararo20 ella lo dijo 😂 (she said it)

wagstyles my favorite relationship

marcmarquez93 your favorite?🤨

View all 109,378 comments

Liked by fabioquartararo20, carlossainz55 and 583,839 others

Marcmarquez93 I take even better photos. Te amo y/n.l/n ❤️

fabioquartararo20 you stole my girlfriend!

marcmarquez93 you stole her first 👀

y/n.l/n i will break up with you both

slayfabio what in the plot twist

marquezupdates marc got tired of seeing the fabio and y/n edits 😭

marcmarquez93 yes i did 😌

View all 353,298 comments

Liked by marcmarquez93, pierregasly and 436,390 others

y/n.l/n so i lied 🙄 my favorite wasn’t the tall one

Comments on this post have been disabled

#motogp #marc marquez #marc marquez imagine #marc marquez x reader #motogp x reader #motogp instagram au #marc marquez instagram au #mm93 #motogp imagine

436 notes · View notes

harunovella · 2 years

Text

but baby i've already got your heart ; s.g.

synopsis: professor gojo was loved by all, a well rounded man with a bright smile and a personality students and staff swooned over... however, he holds a dark secret that comes out in the late hours of the night—or sometimes, in the shadows during the day—the feared ghost face. his next victim? his most beloved student: you.

cw: fem!reader, professor!gojo/ghost face!gojo, student!reader/victim!reader, yandere!gojo, obsession/manipulation, mentions of blood/murder (nothing too detailed, stalker!gojo, oblivious!reader (but... is she, really?), fingering (public indecency), unprotected sex, creampie/squirting, cock warming, possessiveness, dub con!, stealing/breaking and entering, non con photos (?), panty snatching/sniffing, threats, mentions of somnophilia but nothing happens, gojo is a straight up perv and has major red flags but the ladies love him anyway!, plot twist, MDNI 18+ PLEASE! (sorry if I miss any)

wc: 7k+

an: this was sm fun to write, I love ghost face and i love gojo... it's october so why not put them together?! anyway, here's to my first ever gojo fic! i love this man sm, I hope you all enjoy! title inspo...

Satoru Gojo was obsessed. At least, obsessed felt like an understatement. What he felt for you, deep within his damned soul, was a sensation unlike any other. Sure, he's had his fair share of pretty things to fawn over in an unhealthy manner... but you, you were something else. Something ethereal. A being unlike any other. He didn't know why, nor did he know how or when it struck him... maybe it was the moment he met eyes with you for the very first time, but the urge to keep you was overwhelming.

His cute, little assistant. His beloved (and favorite) student. He knew every little detail about you. The amount of classes you took, your extracurricular activities. Where you graduated from high school. Your grades, your GPA, the people you were friends with. Your favorite color, the shampoo and conditioner you used. Every bit of information, even where you lived. After all, an obsession with a new target wasn't uncommon for a man who hid behind a Ghost Face mask while committing mass murder.

Professor Satoru Gojo, the highly demanded teacher who used his good looks to his advantage, lived a double life. He was well known amongst the university folks. Professors and staff alike either envied or loved him. Students fawned over him, doing everything and anything in their power to get his attention. No matter what it took: playing dumb, dressing skimpy, batting their eyelashes... Of course Satoru knew what power he held, it was one of his many great tools to help him become the best at what he did. No one suspected him—the handsome man with snow white hair and crystal blue eyes—to be a psycho serial killer. Of course not, he was just so sweet and social. Much too loved for anyone to point fingers at him.

And like everyone before you—his victims—you fell into his trap. You fell for his kind words and suave actions. His gentle praises and soft touches. From the moment you first stepped foot into his classroom, with your baby blue tank top tucked into your white, tennis skirt... the matching cardigan and bright white sneakers, you truly were a rabbit in a wolf's den. It was impossible for him not to set his target on you, making you his next casualty. From the second you sat down at your desk to the moment he found out you were going to be his T.A., he knew he had to have you.

Satoru didn't spare a second in scheming. Plotting how to sugar you up, get you to drop your guard and to fall so easily into his knife—literally and metaphorically. It wasn't like he wanted to kill you, not yet, he just wanted to have fun. And you really looked like a good time with that lip gloss you wore and that sweet perfume you always sprayed on your neck and wrists—a scent that heightened his obsession.

His first week around you was getting to know you in the most subtle ways, casually asking you about your major and your schedule—for T.A. purposes, of course. That's how he learned your favorite study spot was under a specific tree in the open courtyard near the campus forest. How you hung out at the local cafe in the mornings with your best friends. He managed to learn your schedule so easily. You were such an open book to him, it must have been his pretty eyes that had you in a trance.

And that's how he spent his free time, lurking in the shadows in his beloved Ghost Face attire. His white mask, black hoodie and jeans, tied up boots and gloves. His lanky figure so easily hid behind the mass amount of towering trees on the campus.

Like how he was now, lurking behind the bushes and shrubbery, watching as you stood with your best friend—Nobara Kugisaki. As you were studying psychology, she was studying fashion but the two of you met in your shared photography class freshman year. (Yes, he knew every little detail even about how you made friends.)

The two of you were laughing, standing before one another as you held onto your notebook while Nobara was showing you something on her phone. The sound was music to his ears, a grin grew on his lips from behind his howling mask. Sure, he should have been grading mid-term exams, but how could he when his little assistant wasn't there to help? He knew you had a set schedule in which you followed, but that didn't mean you couldn't offer him some help on your free time. Instead of giggling over dumb videos, you should've been sat with him in his office, close enough for him to smell your intoxicating scent. Close enough for him to see the way your breasts pressed together when you were bent forward to review some of the papers you were helping grade. Close enough for him to feel your breath fanning his cheek.

Close enough for him to yank you down to your knees, unbuckle his belt and undo his pants so he could reach in and pull out his—

Loud laughter caused him to slip past the trees and away from the spot where he stalked. It was foolish of him to get dressed up and hide just to watch you in the middle of the day while the sun was out... but he couldn't help himself! Every second away from you was agonizing. He needed you there beside or even before him. There, so he knew no one else was getting in his way.

After all, he may have something to do with the disappearances of a few frat boys and other psychology majors... But no one needed to know that Ghost Face was behind that. Sure, the entity loved the attention—that's what everyone claimed whenever a corpse was found with a polaroid photo of Ghost Face and said victim was on the scene—but not when it could possibly lead back to him. He was very careful. Clean and cautious. Even with his brutal attacks and stabs, he never allowed himself to get carried away.

"So how's it been working alongside professor Gojo?" Nobara asked you as the two of you walked along one another. "You've made a lot of enemies out of that, y'know," she teased with a small snicker. "So many people want to be in your shoes. Everyone has a crush on him. Makes me wonder if you think he's hot?"

Bitting your inner cheek as you smiled, you then shook your head, "he's my supervisor and professor. But... I mean, I'm not blind. He's a very good looking man."

"Very good looking?" Nobara tilted her head.

"Okay, hot!" You laughed. "I mean, I work so close to him, I see and smell it all. Like, he dresses and smells so expensive... for a professor, even."

"Well, he is from the Gojo clan. One of the wealthiest families in all of Japan. Couldn't expect any less from a man like him. He, himself, looks pricey. As if he wasn't birthed but carefully crafted by all of the world's greatest fashion designers," Nobara waved a hand, earning another laugh from you.

For a bit longer you continued to talk, giggling about Gojo and then moving onto gossip Nobara had learned about within the few hours you've been on campus. After a while, you called it a day as you had to meet up with Gojo, telling Nobara you'd see her later, gaining the response of if you fuck him, Yuji owes me $100. This earned a gasp from you, but before you could even get a word out, Nobara rushed off.

"My favorite student!" Gojo exclaimed as you had walked into his office, greeting him with a kind smile and a small brown bag in your grip that you dangled. "Always feeding my sweet tooth," he beamed, taking the bag from you as you took your usual seat across from him, settling your bag down on the chair beside you. "Mochi from my beloved mochi," he happily sighed as he nearly swallowed the treats whole.

"Do I have to lecture you again about chewing your food?" You shook your head as you took the paper work from him that he had yet to touch. You knew the man very well, always keeping assignments stacked, whining about how he'd eventually get them done, only for you to complete them. "I swear, it's like your a child, Mr. Gojo."

"My little mochi cares about me," he batted his lashes from behind his silver rimmed glasses. You were used to the man wearing sunglasses indoors just as you were used to him calling you by treat names rather than your actual one. At one point you assumed he had forgotten your real name, but he easily proved you wrong... then proceeded to call you his little dango. "I won't die on you. Not by choking, that's for sure. How embarrassing," he scoffed before lifting his insanely long legs on his desk, crossing them at the ankle as he watched you work.

Moments like these where you were so focused and immersed in your grading, he took the opportunity to stare at you. You, being the oh so oblivious beauty you were, never called it out. Maybe you were used to it, maybe it was his sunglasses, but he was so obvious with the way he undressed you with his eyes. He wasn't even trying to hide it. The way he spotted your cleavage from your blouse, how your collarbones were just as exposed. The expanse of your neck... He found himself licking his lips then biting his tongue. Oh, how he'd love to sink his teeth into your body... just as much as he'd love to plunge a knife in you.

Well, maybe not that... maybe not yet... You were so youthful, so full of life. So dedicated to your schooling and friends. So loyal to him. Though, he tsked at your taste in men and may have paid a few a nice visit in the middle of the night... after all you belonged to him and only him.

"So I graded your midterm," he sang as you hummed back in response, eyes still glued on the assignments before you. "I am very proud of you, my little jelly bean."

"Is that so?" You smiled, still keeping your attention low, earning an annoyed eye roll from Gojo that you were unaware of.

"Yes," he breathed before lowering his feet and sitting properly at his desk. "I want to treat you," Gojo smirked. That got your attention.

"Oh, no. You shouldn't," you shook your head as you now eyed the frosted haired man before you.

"Oh... I should," he grinned. His pearly whites on display as his glasses slid down the bridge of his nose, exposing his sky blue eyes. "C'mon. I'm inviting you to dinner tonight to celebrate! You can't turn down you favorite, good looking, professor: Satoru Gojo!"

Smiling, you let out a small chuckle, "okay, fine! Let's go to dinner."

And that you did. Gojo had made you hurry up grading, giving you a time frame as he walked around his office and rearranged his shelves impatiently. You couldn't help but playfully roll your eyes at him, beyond used to his antics at this point after weeks of working so close to him. Once you were finished, Gojo so easily dragged you out of his space, away from the building it was situated in, and over to where his car was parked. He hadn't told you exactly where he had in mind, but when you arrived, you felt so underdressed. Of course, he reassured you with the good ol' no one denies a Gojo.

Dinner went smoothly, you had gone out a few times with him but strictly for lunch. You tried not seeing it any differently... even if the blue skies were replaced by endless stars.

"See? Wasn't so bad," Gojo smiled as the two of you stood in front of your apartment door. "I paid for the greatest dinner—and wine—you've ever had in your lifetime and I gave you a free ride home!" He gestured to your door as you shook your head.

"Mind you, you invited me and then insisted to take me home," you reminded as Gojo shrugged. "Thank you for dinner and the ride, get home safe, Mr. Gojo. I know you can take care of yourself, but, I wouldn't want to lose someone like you with what's going on."

Those words really did him wonders. The pang in his chest? How his heart fluttered? The way his face dropped for a split second just to pick back up that sneaky grin... You truly were worth keeping around for a bit. With those sweet words and that gorgeous face of yours... he couldn't dispose of you. Not yet. He needed you badly. And, luckily, you just lead the big bad wolf to your front door. "Good night, my sweet cinnamon bun."

"Good night, professor," you chuckled before unlocking your door, walking in, and shutting it behind you.

Standing there with his hands deep in his pockets, he eyed his surroundings before squatting. Lifting your welcome mat, searching the twin pots that sat parallel to your front door, he then found your spare key hidden within the soil. "Oh, sweetheart... you're too easy..."

After a nice shower, changing into your cozy pajamas and drinking a nice cup of sleepy-time tea, you found yourself deep into your slumber. You were quite exhausted from the school day, Gojo also knew how to drain the energy from you with his excitement and never ending flow of words that spilled out of his mouth. But, you didn't mind, he was a kind man and he kept you entertained.

Grateful for his light footsteps for such a lanky body, Gojo pulled your door shut behind him as he eyed his surroundings. Like the genius murder he was, he made a copy of your spare care before placing the original back. Then, snatched his hidden items, pulled on his all black ensemble and mask, and made his way back to your home. He had hoped you would've invited him in earlier, but maybe you had enough of him for the day... or you were being cautious since he was your supervisor and it wouldn't be wise to have him in your personal living space.

Whatever, he thought. He used the moonlight to help guide him around your home. Eyeing the set up, remembering all the windows and the balcony. Keeping track of where he could and couldn't slip through by checking weak locks. He then eyed your belongings. The photos and art you kept around. Wasn't a whole lot, but they were there.

Quietly checking doors, finding a closet and bathroom, he then spotted your bedroom. The door was closed, much to his dismay. He had hoped you were asleep, not wanting to make his presence known just yet. Sighing, he slowly, and quietly twisted the knob and pushed the door open. Perfect, he grinned from behind his mask. You were dead asleep, resting on your side as you were curled up into a ball. Cute. Taking out his phone, he snapped a few shots of you sleeping. Up close and from afar, getting sight of your bedroom, too.

Taking a step back, he eyed his surroundings before gently pulling drawers open and pushing them closed. A section for pajamas, folded t-shirts, gym wear... your panties... His grin grew bigger as he rustled through it, spotting your lace numbers and thongs. It made him wonder what you had worn that night. Quietly closing the drawer and turning on his heel, he went over to your hamper and pushed pieces of clothing to a side, only to find a little black number.

Sniffing it before stuffing it into his pocket, he decided to call it a night.

That one would be the first of many.

Days of breaking in turned into weeks. Gojo was strategic about it, coming in at the late hours he knew you were asleep. And if you were out? He was hurt. However, it didn't stop him from stealing more of your items and rearranging others. He wanted to test you, see if you would pick up on the changes. You may be a bit oblivious, but you were a smart girl. He was too good at what he did, maybe that's why you never noticed... or maybe you had? He wouldn't know. It wasn't like you'd confide in your beloved professor about little things like that, would you?

Maybe it was time he made his presence known. After all, he had enough of playing with his food.

The sound of something toppling over made you jolt in your sleep. Usually, you were a heavy sleeper, but after noticing little things around your home being moved—like your jewelry or your framed photos—you had been a bit on edge lately. You had told Nobara about it, but she said it probably was a ghost that's haunting your place. You weren't really a believer, but you also weren't a non-believer.

However, you hated how Nobara wasn't wrong. It wasn't an actual, supernatural being. Not a legit ghost that was of an entity lurking... no, more like, a living being hiding behind a ghost mask.

You had gone to check on what had fallen, searching your little apartment to see nothing was out of place. A sense of relief had washed over you, more than ready to go back to bed... but the ghost thought otherwise.

An arm wrapped around your waist as a hand covered your mouth and more. It was large, just enough to block your nose, too, if they wanted. You instantly panicked, thrashed around and tried to free yourself, but the person before you was much too strong and instead pushed you onto your bed before aiming a hunting knife at your throat. "Now, now, I wouldn't cause a ruckus if I were you, sweetheart."

Gulping at the towering figure before you dressed in all black, a howling mask covering their face, you clutched onto your bedsheets as you tried to stay still. Your heart was racing and tears filled your eyes. You could kick him, maybe try and use something you learned in self defense classes... but the knife at your neck and the mask before you had you too stunned.

"You're so pretty, I couldn't kill ya..." he sighed through the voice modulator. "But a little prick..." piercing your skin lightly as a dribble of blood pooled up, the intruder watched you wince with a chuckle. "Hmm... that should do it for me for now..."

"I— I don't have much but you— you can take my money or— or my jewelry—"

"Nah, I don't want any of that shit," he waved a hand nonchalantly before he swiftly leaned into you, causing you to gasp at the sudden action. "I'm not superficial. I have my eyes on something else instead..."

Watching as he leaned his face into your neck as he took in a rather loud inhale, sniffing your scent, you shivered once again as you squeezed your eyes shut for a moment. "Take whatever, please, just leave... leave me alone..."

Snickering as he pulled his head away, Ghost Face sighed as he was pressing one knee in between your legs. "Can't do that... don't wanna disturb the peace too much, y'know?"

Opening your eyes, you furrowed your brows. "Wh— What?"

"Well, I can't take what I want because, well... you live here and I don't wanna kidnap you or anything. That's no fun," he shook his head as you blinked, gulping at his words. He wanted... you? But why?!

"Me? No— Why? Why do you want me?" You shook your head, crawling back, only for him to catch your ankle and drag you back, mask nearly pressing into your face as you flinched.

"You're just so... perfect," he grinned—you knew he did from within the mask. "I'll see you around, cutie." Patting your cheek a bit too roughly with his leather glove covered hand, the intruder slipped away, deep into the shadows and disappeared from your sight.

It was a nightmare. It wasn't real. It was a dream. It was something your mind conjured. That's what you told yourself the days that followed that night. You were shaken up but told no one. You weren't sure if it had been true or not. It could've been some sort of sleep paralysis. A vivid dream? In reality, you couldn't even remember much... it was far too blurry, it was late into the night, maybe you hallucinated.

You carried on with life, not letting whatever that was stop you. You'd have to do some research. You were a psych major, there had to be something out there. Being a good student and an assistant was your top priority, whatever the hell that was, you would put it in the back seat. You didn't need to ponder too much on it... even if... you felt like you were constantly being watched.

"Hey, KitKat, you've been out of it lately. You're not all there during my lectures or, well... now," Gojo frowned as he leaned over you from behind.

You were seated at his desk, aimlessly staring as you weren't even bothering with the assignments before you. You felt his presence behind you as he had bent at the hip, head coming into view beside you. "Sorry... it's just..." sighing, you rubbed your face. "I don't know, I feel like I'm being watched. Maybe I'm paranoid... Maybe I watch too many scary movies before bed," you awkwardly chuckled as you turned your head to look at him.

"Let me take you out to dinner to get your mind off of things," he said, standing up straight with his hands buried in his slacks. "Food is always a good pick me up. I can also take us out to get ice cream!" He beamed as you softly smiled.

"I appreciate it—"

"No buts!" He lifted a finger. "Dinner, dessert... and a movie! Yes, I know there's a new movie I've been dying to see," Gojo said with a nod, already planning the evening. "I won't be taking a no for an answer, biscuit."

Sighing, you settled your work down. "Okay..."

"It'll be so worth it, trust me," he winked before pushing his sunglasses back. "You'll have the best night ever."

Gojo wasn't lying when he uttered those words to you with such promise and excitement. Yet again, he took you to a restaurant where the food made your taste buds explode from the feast. Everything was delicious and more, almost enough to keep your mind busy. Almost. You were still a bit on edge, your little sporadic smiles fading away every time your mind wandered off and looked blankly out the window.

However, being at the movie theater was different. There really wasn't anywhere to look out at and think so deeply, nor was there time to ponder over was it real or not when you were alone with your supervisor. When you were alone with the Satoru Gojo.

He knew what he was doing. He started off with gentle caresses to your exposed knee. Comforting touches to keep your mind at ease—or, probably not. Not with what he had in mind. He knew he was the cause of your paranoia, but boy if it wasn't fun toying with your emotions. Being the one to break you down and build you up. It made his blood rush straight to his now semi-hard cock.

You didn't stop the feather-like touches from their movements up your thigh. A part of you knew it was wrong, but a bigger part of you was begging for anything to keep your mind busy. The movie wasn't enough, though it was quite the comedy, you still needed more to keep your mind... well, empty. If that was what was going to help you.

Placing your hand on his as you inched it closer to your heat, you felt his eyes on you within the darkness of the theater before you turned your focus. Meeting his, you leaned over and closed the gap separating you two. You weren't so sure what possessed you, what made you so bold, but you were desperate. Needy for anything. Anything to help you forget.

Your subtle kiss of gentle pecks turned into tongues meeting and breaths fanning. You guided his fingers higher before you removed your hand to let him do the rest. Reaching over to clutch the back of his neck as you felt his long fingers slip under you panties, you scooted closer and parted your knees further.

He couldn't stop smiling. God, this was what he was aching for for so long. To finally taste your lips, to feel your drenched pussy against his fingertips. All because you needed to forget about his alter ego. He wondered, would you have done this with another man if he wasn't around? He didn't like the thought. All you needed was him and only him. No other man could satisfy you like he could. After all, he was the one who lead you to this point and he was going to go all the way. Fuck with your mind just like he knew he was going to fuck your tight pussy.

Your breathing quickened as you felt his long fingers tease you, his middle pushing into your hole as you hooked your leg over his to feel more. Gojo used his free hand to hold your jaw as his tongue licked into your mouth. Every chance he got to pull away, your saliva would keep you two connected before snapping and staining your chin. And every time he pulled away, he was always so quick to push his tongue back in—just like his fingers. Two of them now fucking in and out of you.

There was no point in watching the movie anymore, your entertainment was Gojo's tongue and skilled fingers. Maybe it was working, after all, your brain was slowly turning into mush as you felt yourself climaxing.

It didn't take long for you to move it to your bedroom. You left the movie before it ended, rushing to his car as he brought you home. You tugged him in by the collar of his shirt as you brought his lips to yours once again. A trail of clothes lead to your bed as Gojo found himself fully naked before your own nude body. He so eagerly ate your pussy like it was his last meal, lapping up your juices and fucking your hole with his tongue, explicit moans leaving both of you. Your thighs were covered up in bites and bruises, and your hips would soon be covered in his fingertips aftermath.

"I told you you'd have the best night ever," Gojo breathed as he thrusted deeply into you, his tip kissing your cervix with every languid movement of his hips. He smiled down at you, white locks hanging over his eyes as his cheshire cat grin was all you could see. A hint of his hungry, lustful eyes peeking through his bangs as he held onto the back of your knees. "Aren't I the best professor? I truly care for my favorite student, hmm? I give her the best one-on-one session..." he breathed.

Clutching onto your bed sheets as sweat clung to your body while moans left your parted lips, you couldn't form coherent sentences. "Mmh... Best... Best— Oh, Mr. Gojo—"

"Please," he shook his head before leaning in, lips hovering yours as he continued to fuck into you deeply, "call me Satoru."

"Satoru," you cried as your eyes squeezed shut the moment you felt his finger rubbing your sensitive clit. "Please— I'm gonna— Oh— There!" You whined as he continued his ministrations, grinning at the sight of you coming undone for a third time before him. You were practically drooling, hair in disarray, skirt flipped over your stomach, panties shoved in the back pocket of his slacks, blouse and bra long gone to leave your bouncing breasts on display—one of his many canvases covered in his bites.

He should've been gentle with you, sure, but he did promise you the best night... and what was love making going to do for you when raw fucking was going to make you go completely brainless?

You had never come like that in your life. You stained your sheets and your essence was all over Satoru's skin. He had never been prouder to fuck you so good you soaked him, too. He just wished it was all over his face instead... He'll get there eventually. Maybe a certain homicidal maniac should pay you a visit soon for some fun?

"'m gonna fill you up so good, 'kay? Make you my very own sweet treat with my seed spilling out of you, mhm? God, the most exquisite little thing ever," he breathed as he felt his abdomen tighten, his grip on you tightening to the point you whimpered as he came. It was almost endless, he fucked you slowly, ropes and ropes filling you up before Gojo let go of your legs and nearly collapsed on top of you. He stayed inside of you, even when he went soft. He couldn't seem to pull out, the feeling of being buried within you was much too wonderful to remove himself from. "You feeling better?" He breathed against your ear before biting on the soft skin below it.

"Mhm..." you hummed with a weak nod and hooded eyes, unable to keep them open. "So... so much... better..." you breathed, eyes falling closed as Gojo sat up enough to eye you, giving your lips a small kiss before sucking on your bottom lip, then pulling away.

"My pretty, little, peach," he smiled, kissing your chin and neck, slowly pulling out as a small whimper left you. Leaning back to watch his fill leak out of you, Gojo swiped up and pushed in as much as he could before pressing the rest on your tongue—in which you lazily lapped up with closed eyes.

You were exhausted, completely spent and full of him. He was filled with a sense of pride. His favorite muse all covered in him. His kisses, his bites, his saliva and anything in between. You were all his. Finally.

Eyeing your now resting figure as you so easily passed out, Gojo quietly stood up and cleaned himself up before he so kindly wiped you up—not after snapping a few photos of your leaking hole, bruised skin, and swollen lips (featuring your tear stained cheeks!) with his phone. Proud of his work, he fixed himself, zipped up his pants and readjusted his shirt. Staring at you for a bit, a sigh of defeat left him as he pulled off your skirt and tossed it to a side before slipping under your bedsheets with you.

He could go for a round two and fuck your sleeping body—he was sure you wouldn't mind—but he had exhausted you as it was. He was feeling generous. So, he stayed rested with you for a bit as you curled into him. He watched you sleep for what felt like hours before he left a few kisses on your lips and slipped away.

Leaving a note on your nightstand, caressing your face and stealing one last kiss, Gojo left your apartment satisfied and satiated.

For now.

The two of you acted like nothing happened. At least, out in the open. When you were attending his lectures or greeting one another in public, you kept things civil—like how they were before. To say you were nervous or embarrassed at first was an understatement. You were worried. Afraid you crossed the line... however... the very next day when you were back on campus said otherwise. And every day after that when you found yourself with your legs spread, pussy bare and getting absolutely devoured by Gojo at his desk in his office. Of course, it was a two way street. You made sure his aching length got equal attention from your small mouth and tight throat, letting him fuck your face and come all over it.

There were plenty of instances where his seed dripped down your cheeks or leaked out of your mouth. Just like there were many times where Gojo's lips glistened with your juices.

It had been so long. At least it felt like it. Maybe Gojo and your classes really kept your mind busy you had nearly forgotten about him. Your unfriendly, neighborhood, stalker. Murderer. Homicidal maniac. You name it.

You didn't dream it. You didn't hallucinate it. He was very much real and he was very much standing before you in your tiny living room. "Little kitten has claws," Ghost Face said as you stood your ground, clutching a kitchen knife. "Oh, baby... I missed you."

"I didn't miss you," you nearly whispered, trembling in your spot.

"But... didn't you? I'm sure you thought about me every single day. The big bad man who breaks into your home, lurks in the shadows... steals your panties," those words instantly made you flustered as your eyes widened. He took a mental note of that. "Oh, yeah, your missing panties? All belong to me know. You know, you've got a lovely scent. I can only imagine how that pussy tastes—"

"Stay back!" You exclaimed, lifting the knife, but the masked murderer laughed.

"Oh, Bambi, I know you have a very creative mind. Haven't you been curious about me? Haven't you imagined what it's like to get fucked by a murderer? Plenty of women fantasize about it. It's a common role play," he said with a nod as you bit your tongue. "Here, we can act it out! I promise, if you go along, you won't die tonight," he said as he lifted a gloved hand, lifting his index finger as he inched closer to you.

"You're— You're insane," you shook your head.

"I'm very well aware of that," he shrugged. "But, is it insane to want to stay alive? C'mon, that tight, little pussy wants to get wrecked by my fat cock. Just say the words," he sung as you shook your head. "Don't be such a fucking brat." Lunging forward as you gasped, he knocked the knife out of your grip before tugging your head back by your hair. Lifting his mask just enough, his lips crashed onto yours. A hint of mint lingering as his tongue dove into your mouth, feeling your walls and tasting you. You squirmed, tried to put up a fight and push him away, but he was much too strong.

Suddenly, a hiss left you as the tip of his knife made contact with your cheek. A small slice followed by his wet tongue licking away your droplets of blood made you shiver.

"Mmm," he hummed as he lowered his mask and let go of your hair before slumping forward. "Your mouth and blood, wow!" He nodded before lifting his index and thumb to form an okay with them. "So, what's your answer? Gonna let me fuck you raw? Gonna live for another day? I think it's an easy yes, hmm? Nothin' like a good ol' dickin' down to get you through the night. So easy."

"I am not... going to die... by your filthy hands," you breathed with the cutest mean face you could muster.

God, you were a keeper. "Then... I guess fucking it is!" He cheered as you winced.

That's how you found yourself underneath a masked man with his dick drilling into your poor pussy. You reminded yourself why you were there, why you would... agree? to this. He fucked into you like a jack hammer, fully clothed and enjoying the feeling of your tight cunt squeezing him so.

You kept your eyes focused elsewhere, trying to imagine it as anyone else, as someone you actually wanted. Like Gojo. But... you'd be lying if you said... it didn't feel good. The way his hips gyrated and rocked. How his cock pounded into you in an unholy manner. How the mystery of the man behind the mask somehow enticed you.

It was wrong, so wrong. You hated this. You did. You didn't want this. You didn't want this. But why... why did it feel so good?

Before you could reach your climax, the mystery man slotted his face in between your legs, lifting his mask enough to lick and fuck your pussy. His teeth making you shiver, his tongue thrusting and tasting your wetness. How he nearly bit your clit as you shrieked. He shifted between his fingers and tongue, overstimulating you and your sensitive nub as you clung onto your pillow. He chased your orgasm with a menacing snicker against your slick folds, enticing your release, fucking your hole so hard that you'd squirt all over him—just as he wanted.

The pants that left your body, the heavy breaths and the discomfort—yet relief—you felt were all consuming as the man stayed between your thighs. He was in the midst of licking his lips and lapping up whatever else he could from your orgasm, too focused on being drunk off of your pussy to even realize you were reaching towards him.

Reaching for his mask and just about to snatch it off, Ghost Face was quick to catch on. Moving away from you and reaching for the knife he had sheathed while fixing his mask, he gripped the hilt and aimed it at your heart as his voice boomed, "don't you fucking try that again or I'll fucking gut you like a fish, got that, whore?!"

Nodding profusely as tears so easily streamed down your face, the man stood from your bed and fixed his pants before sheathing his knife once again, watching you tremble and cry as you cowered away.

He was livid, beyond furious. He let his guard down and you almost revealed him? You were asking to get your throat slit.

He had to be careful around you.

He didn't want to kill you, not you, you were too fun. He was growing attached. So he slipped out of your home like a ghost once again and left you there to sob. The kill count for that evening would be the highest, the news would spread in the morning and you'd feel the guilt of the innocent lives taken on your shoulders.

"Can you stay the night...?" You shyly asked Gojo as he had come over on one of the sporadic nights you two would meet in secret. "I know you shouldn't but with a serial killer on the loose and going on a rampage as of late—"

"No need to explain," he said as he wrapped an arm around you and pulled you closer, kissing the top of your head as he did so. "I know it hasn't been easy for everyone. I wouldn't let anything happen to you, doughnut."

Giving him a weak smile, you nuzzled his chest. Your empty takeout containers sat at your coffee table as an old movie from a few decades back played on your TV. "Thank you, Satoru."

"Anything for you," he sweetly spoke as you looked up at him. Those mesmerizing eyes and those dazzling teeth... He was so handsome it truly hurt.

Leaning up to kiss him, you moved a leg over his lap to straddle him. The blanket you two shared fell over as you wrapped your arms around his neck and deepened the kiss. Your tongue meeting his as his large hands gripped your ass and massaged the weight in his palms.

Running your fingers through his hair before sliding them down his neck, you unbuttoned his dress shirt further than it already was, slipping your hands beneath the cotton fabric. Feeling his toned chest and warm skin, you brought your lips down his throat, leaving a trail of red blotches along the way to his pecks, hearing his breathing increase.

Your hands found their way to the bulge protruding from his black slacks, massaging his trapped length with your palm as Gojo slid his own hand between your thighs. He could feel the wetness the pooled on your panties, teasing your aching cunt through the thin material as you began to rock your hips against him.

Quiet pleads left either of you as you undid his belt and zipper, pulling out his length as you began to pump his leaking cock with your tiny fist. Gojo pulled your panties down before letting them snap into place as you yelped. Dipping his hand into the thong you wore, he slid his fingers along your wetness, moaning at both your touch and the slick between his fingers.

Pulling his hand out as he sucked on his index and middle, you watched him with hungry eyes, whining and begging him to fuck you with them. Without hesitation, he slid his hand back in, fucking your pussy with little resistance as you jerked him off.

Pumping each other as you both moaned and hissed at the sensation at an incoming orgasm, the two of you pressed your foreheads together as you chased your mutual releases, coming into each others palms with heavy breaths. You watched as he licked his fingers clean once again, groaning at your taste before you leaned down to give his head kitten licks, teasing him before standing to your feet and tugging him with you to your bed.

"I've got an idea..." you said in a rather sultry voice, giving Gojo a wink before you pushed him onto your bed. Tugging off his pants and removing his shirt, you got him down to nothing but bare skin as you then reached into your nightstand and pulled out a pair of handcuffs.

"Oh?" Gojo arched an eyebrow as you bit your bottom lip. "What do you have in mind?"

"I just... wanna try something with you..." you batted your lashes, playing innocent. "I wanna cuff you to my bed and fuck you... please?"

Eyeing you as his heart raced and cock twitched, he grinned, "I can't deny my sweet girl..."

Smiling happily, you straddled him and cuffed his wrists, then leaned in to whisper in his ear, "maybe I'll let you eat my pussy, too."

"Fuck, I'd love nothing more for you to ride my face," he breathed, watching you giggle as you pulled away from him.

"Okay, I've got another surprise," you nodded. "Close your eyes for me, 'toru."

Closing his eyes with an eager grin, excited for what else you had in store, Gojo felt his insides twist from anticipation. "You've got me feeling like I'm about to get the greatest treat."

"Oh, you will... You'll get your just desserts."

Furrowing his eyebrows, he opened his eyebrows, "huh?"

"Look familiar?" You tilted your head, holding up a mask in one and and a knife in the other. Not just any mask and knife—a Ghost Face mask and a hunting knife. His mask. His knife. "Oh, it does, doesn't it?"

"What— What the fuck—"

Seeing the look of pure shock on Gojo's face, you shook your head. "Don't play dumb," leaning in, you aimed his knife at his throat. "Didn't think I'd know? You always think you're ten steps ahead. Smarter than everyone. But, even you, the worlds smartest serial killer, have your own slip ups."

"Baby, angel, sweetheart— I— I have no idea what you're talking about!" He panicked, shaking his head and tugging at the cuffs that kept him tied down. "Please! What— What're you—"

Pricking the skin on his neck—just like he did to you—you then brought the knife to his cheek and pressed against the skin before sliding down. "How does it feel to be on the other side?"

"I— I don't know what the hell you're talking about?! You're freaking me—"

"Great," you sighed. "I guess I'll have to paint the picture for you."

It was 6 months ago. You remembered it so easily. You were working on your final assignment for your Intro to Photography class—one you shared with your best friend, Nobara, as to get some electives out of the way. You loved nighttime photos, always finding them to be your best. At the park, the beach, abandoned malls and late nights at supermarkets. Then you tried your campus, knowing the university grounds had some nice landscapes and views.

You didn't expect to see much action. Students had late classes but not that late. You had showed up ten till midnight, wanting some good photos of the moon and pretty reflections off of surfaces. Truly, you were just going to snap some photos and call it a night. Security was around, you weren't too scared of being alone.

However, you weren't really alone.

It must've been the wrong place at the wrong time. You had seen it, the lanky man in the distance. He didn't notice you as you were crouched behind bushes, getting photos of the courtyard. Your camera had zoomed in on him. The tall figure dressed in all black, almost in a rush. He carried something in his grip, you weren't sure.

So you followed.

You quietly kept your distance when you realized who it was. Professor Gojo. Why had he been there so late? What was he doing? Stopping behind a tree as you watched him enter the building, you spotted the light of an office space turn on as you zoomed in again. You watched as he shut his door behind him, the crack in his blinds giving you enough to see. He unlocked a drawer and slid it open before lifting a mask and a... bloody knife?

Your heart skipped a beat.

He settled both in the drawer before removing the gloves he had on. Black and leather. Your mind was racing, thoughts being assumed. You quickly hid yourself again before slipping away and rushing as fast as possible before he or anyone could spot you.

"It all made sense," you said as you recited that night. "It was no coincidence. You grew obsessed with me not too long after. I wondered if you knew, but I guess not. Maybe you're the oblivious one here and I just acted the part..." you shrugged, eyeing his knife as you lifted it from his neck. "You know... you may have a voice modulator to cover you... but, you think I wouldn't notice other things? The way you fucked me? The way you ate my pussy? Crazy, I know, it's the little things. But I noticed..." looking down at his hip bone and pointing at a scar, you nodded, "yeah... I noticed the scar and I spotted it when a sliver of your skin appeared from your Ghost Face attire...

"Then, of course, the way you kissed me. When you lifted your mask just enough, I noticed the little wisps of white. You really aren't that smart, now, huh?" You chuckled as the horrified man before you bit down roughly and furrowed his eyebrows.

"What the fuck do you want from me?" He seethed as you smiled.

"Oh, a psych major like me is really lucky, I guess. Getting into the world of criminology and having the feared Ghost Face killer right before me? Maybe I'm lucky. Maybe I'm a bit insane. I mean, I got to pull this off for half a year..." you trailed as Gojo squinted his eyes. "What I want to know is..." you leaned in before tapping his forehead with the hilt of his knife, "what goes on in this twisted, psychotic mind of yours, Satoru Gojo," you smiled. "Or, really, should I say... Ghost Face?"

an: I didn't really mention it but I guess I should say it in case y'all are wondering... reader managed to snatch his mask and knife bc she knew where he kept them hidden and being his TA, she more than likely studied him like he studied her and figured where the key to the drawer was! anyway, this was sm fun to write, I wanted to write some "horror" au's for this month so here's my first! no part two, sorry, but... I personally like to think these two psychos team up and go absolutely feral on the world? I mean... we got the murderer and the brains, what a power couple— anyway, what do you all think? How do you think things would go? would one of them die? would he get caught? idk it's really a free for all kinda ending

2K notes · View notes