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pupyuj · 15 days

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→ “long overdue.” || kim jiwon (liz) x reader.

— jiwon reunites with you, her old fling, at her brother’s bachelor party and with the sparks still in the air, you don’t waste any time to get familiar with her once more…

word count: 5.2k.

dynamic: dom!bottom!liz x sub!top!reader.

warnings: age gap (it's not much!), unnie kink, fwb to lovers, nipple play, oral fixation, cunnilingus, fingering, thigh riding, orgasm denial, edging.

a/n: FINALLY! a jiwon fic from moi 😭😭 this was supposed to be posted earlier on valentine's day but alas 💀 i really do wish i could've dropped something for feb 14th but back then i was bitter, lonely, sad, and angry so trying to write something cute and lovey-dovey was just not ideal LMAO but anyways, i hope you guys enjoy this fic 💚 only one more member and i will have officially written a fic for each of the ive unnies! WE CAN DO IT!! 😤✨ also i'm pretty sure i'm missing some warnings/tags but i'm too sleepy to remember them so...

jiwon doesn’t know why she agreed to chaperone her grown brother to his stupid bachelor party. as far as she knew, it was a boy thing. according to her brother, however, she was an exception and so, jiwon finds herself seated at the farthest corner of the bar in what might be the most expensive nightclub she has ever set foot in. she hasn’t even downed her first drink yet—she merely made a tiny tornado with the small umbrella while keeping an eye on her little brother and his ridiculous group of friends.

some of them were familiar to her, some weren’t. and some have repeatedly asked for her number in the past two and a half hours they’ve been in the place. it was after the eleventh time it happened that jiwon decided to go on her lonesome and sat on that one corner of the bar, silently waiting for the little party to end so she could get her nice, long and certainly well-deserved, sleep. jiwon really wished that she came up with some boring excuse to avoid this event. unfortunately, she couldn’t say no to her brother who was so kind to include her!

perhaps he knew that jiwon needed to look at something that wasn’t the view from the big windows of that fancy condominium where she lives. on top of all that, jiwon has been working harder than usual. but that’s only because she quite literally has nothing else to do in her life. all of her friends were busy, she was busy, and it’s not like she can just hit up her coworkers for a quick drink after work when she barely knew them. in hindsight, jiwon sort of needed this!

jiwon raises her glass to her lips, but stops midway when something curious catches her attention. a girl, a bit younger than jiwon herself, confidently marches up towards her brother and does a very familiar handshake with him before hugging him tightly. jiwon watches as the girl and her brother chat a bit. they exchanged a few jokes here and there, the girl hands him a small bag (a gift to his soon-to-be wife, possibly), then her brother whispers in the girl’s ear as he exchanges glances with jiwon, and suddenly both of them were looking at her from across the nightclub.

jiwon nearly drops her glass when she sees the girl’s face clearly. it was you—(y/n) (l/n), her brother’s former roommate and best friend all throughout college! jiwon has met you before! back when her life was a goddamn mess and her entire family thought that you were her brother’s girlfriend. but then it turns out you were more like… his sister from a different family and so that was when you and jiwon started getting to know each other.

perhaps you got to know each other a bit too well… because jiwon remembers all those times when the two of you would hang out in her room for hours and f—

“jiwon-unnie!”

the blonde haired girl springs up from her seat and waved as you squeezed through multiple crowds of people until you got to her. wow, you were beautiful. taller, older, and obviously so much prettier than the last time jiwon saw you.

which was in between her le—

“i missed you so much!” you engulfed jiwon in a crushing bear-hug which she awkwardly returned. “oh wow, unnie, you’re gorgeous! blonde fits you so well.” you were saying as you pulled away, taking in all of jiwon’s features and even threading her soft hair from behind. jiwon got goosebumps under your touch—how the fuck was she supposed to act normal in this situation?

“i am so glad you’re here because as much as i love him, i’m not as much of a boys girl anymore.” you pulled jiwon back to her seat, taking the empty one right beside hers and immediately telling the bartender about your favorite drink. jiwon finds herself completely speechless. literally. you were vibrant, you were chatty, you were so charming—everything jiwon remembers that you were all those years ago.

“mmm. never gets old.” you said after taking the first sip of your drink. you then turned to jiwon who flinched upon making eye contact with you. “what have you been doing these days, unnie? i know you’re like, some kind of big deal at this rich-people company you work for but you know… what else?” you eyed jiwon up and down before smiling at her. not even the darkness and the nearly seizure-inducing lights of the nightclub could hide that familiar glint in your eyes, but jiwon chose to ignore them.

she couldn’t help but glance at how your skirt is hiked up after you’ve put one leg over the other though.

“um, i haven’t been doing much, really. just… work and making sure he doesn’t do anything stupid.” jiwon said, nodding her head to her brother who was pretty buzzed at this time.

you laughed, “you guys never really changed, huh? glad to see it.” you took another sip of your drink.

“only this time i’m helping him with his road to being a husband instead of a project due in thirty minutes.” jiwon shakes her head at the memory, and she likes the way it makes you smile brightly.

“right… and are you still with wonyoung-ssi?” you asked with caution. yet you stared at jiwon as you did so, making sure she sees your ulterior motive through your eyes. jiwon feels herself crumbling under the weight of your stare, as much as she tries to put up a fight of her own.

“no… no, that’s been over for a while now.” it was a good breakup. one that ended with laughter rather than tears and anger. jiwon still talks with wonyoung to this day. why, only a week ago, wonyoung had called jiwon about her brother’s wedding! she expressed her regret about not being able to attend it due to scheduling conflicts—the life of an acclaimed supermodel was busy after all!

you looked significantly happier with the news, now gulping down your drink with a smile on your face. “h-how about you? he never told me what you did after you guys graduated…” jiwon attempts to have some control of the situation—sitting up straight, staring back at you with the same intensity, and all. was she successful? no. jiwon’s blushes as you held your stare with hers, an amused smirk now on your lips before you flipped your hair over your shoulder.

shiiit, jiwon remembers how perfect your neck looks while covered with marks left by her… oh gods, what is wrong with her?!

“well, after college, i did try getting my career started… but that didn’t work out. i ended up going back to my hometown to get back in touch with my heart and all that sentimental bullshit, and it actually worked,” you giggled, your hand brushing across your hair. “i know what i want to do in my life, but for now, i’m just…” you trailed off, raising your drink as well as quirking your eyebrow. “having fun before i can’t.” now your glass is finally empty.

“that’s good. and i’m glad the two of you are still friends. i was worried you’d grow apart.” it always made jiwon smile when she came home after a rough day at her old job and seeing you and her brother in the house, chatting and fooling around as if you weren’t burdened by all your commitments and responsibilities. it had always been refreshing seeing you, and it still is.

you propped your elbow on the table and put your chin on your palm, flashing jiwon a teasing smile, “did you miss me, unnie?”

and just like that, every ounce of confidence jiwon built up evaporates into nothing. she laughs awkwardly, hiding behind her drink, “o-of course! it was weird not seeing you guys together all the time, you know!” another awkward laugh. jiwon felt ridiculous and childish.

“no, unnie,” you moved closer, putting your hand on jiwon’s arm. she turned her head to look at you again and there you were, staring at her with clouded eyes. you then leaned closer and put your other arm behind her, your lips ghosting above her ear. shitshitshit, that’s too close. “did you miss me?”

what happened moments later isn’t exactly what jiwon would say was… a mistake. hell, it was far from it.

being trapped between the door of your hotel room and yourself while getting her neck marked up and her clothes slowly stripped down is the most eventful jiwon’s night has been.

jiwon could feel her brother’s worry all the way from here… well, it’s mainly because she knew that all the buzzing that her phone was doing in her pocket was because of him mass texting her about her whereabouts. she couldn’t be bothered to text him back right now though, not when you were already trailing your hand up her thigh and sliding it underneath her skirt. this felt familiar, and it felt good. feeling you gently rub her wet cunt through her panties felt good, feeling you softly biting on her collarbone felt good, seeing those cute eyes of yours asking for permission while you tugged on her panties felt good.

how long has it been since jiwon felt this kind of rush in her life? too long, she’d say. so why not make the most out of it?

jiwon cups your cheeks and crashes her lips into yours for the first time that night. your lips tasted like blueberries (from whatever you were drinking earlier), and jiwon loved the way you kissed her rather clumsily as if you didn’t expect her to do it first. jiwon couldn’t get enough. she pushes you further inside the room, discarding you of your jacket while doing so. she sits you down on the edge of the bed before separating from your lips and suddenly walking off, leaving you confused and slightly light-headed.

turns out, jiwon only went away to turn the lampshade on, illuminating the room with a warm orange glow before going back to you. she stared you down with hooded eyes, lust replacing the kind look in her irises that you knew and loved, and then she gently grabs your jaw, tilting your head up. you squeezed your thighs together, trying to soothe that ache in your core. god, you missed her.

“make this worth it, (y/n).” jiwon says coldly. even jiwon herself was surprised at her tone, but something in her brain liked how you crumbled under her stare. compared to the timid, nervous jiwon from earlier, bossy and demanding and… kind of harsh jiwon just did something right to you.

“you’ve always been worth it.” you pulled jiwon towards you by her hips, making her sit down on your lap. you feel her brushing your hair with her fingers, allowing you to release the tension on your shoulders and just melt into her. you’ve missed her warmth, and she’s missed yours. jiwon didn’t understand why you left when you did… but that was a question you were going to answer for her later.

much, much later.

jiwon moans softly as you start kissing her neck. your hands get busy with the remaining buttons on her shirt, revealing more of her skin for you to mark up throughout the night. you’ve already left some earlier, and they were starting to show across her chest but that wasn’t enough. you slowly pull off her shirt and let it drop to the ground, then your hands travel lower on jiwon’s body, stopping at the waistband of her skirt.

you were eager to touch her—unzipping her skirt and whining to get her to stand up and let it fall at her feet before you pulled her back into you. jiwon couldn’t help but laugh while you kissed her hungrily, and then she giggled even more when you rolled around and made her lay on her back on the bed.

you pouted cutely as you observed her and her baby pink lingerie, “hmm… were you expecting to sleep with someone in that club, unnie? you looked prepared.”

jiwon thought it was the perfect time to tease such a normally confident girl like you. so she nodded with a shit-eating grin, “the lady bartender was cute actually.” she laughs when you suddenly hop off of her abdomen, choosing to sit on the side of the bed instead. you were taking off your shoes, setting them aside before starting to discard yourself of your jewelry and putting them on the bedside table. jiwon watches you intently, her desire for you only growing by the second.

“come on, get in here already.” jiwon tugged on your sleeve, more than ready to feel your lips on her skin once again. she decided to sit up and help you with your dress though, reaching for the zipper and slowly pulling it down. she didn’t waste the opportunity to leave kisses on the back of your neck, all the way down to the middle of your back, making sure that her lipstick sticks on your skin and smiling satisfied once she sees that it did.

finally, jiwon could see all of you after all these years, and you were just as beautiful as the last time she saw you. jiwon couldn’t resist immediately grabbing your face and kissing you as you climbed into the bed—she longed to feel your skin against hers again and now that you were here, she doesn’t think she ever wants to let you go like she did back then. so, jiwon holds onto you tightly, letting you settle yourself on top of her once again while your hands impatiently explore her perfect body. your hands reach behind jiwon, unclasping her bra and throwing it aside, your hands quickly finding themselves busy fondling her soft breasts.

it was cute to see that you still adored her tits as much as you did back then. you did that thing you always did when you were intimate with jiwon, kissing all over her chest, making sure to cover every inch of skin while still massaging her tits. jiwon caresses your hair as you did your job, laughing softly in an adoring way, her smile only widening when you look up at her with your own grin.

“you’re so pretty, jiwon-unnie.” you gave the older girl one last quick kiss on the lips before leaning down and taking her nipple in your mouth. jiwon gasps at the feeling of your warm tongue slowly swirling around her nipple. it was familiar, like all of the other things you’ve done to her so far, but it also felt new at the same time. because this time, the two of you were much older, and you were doing this purely out of your true feelings for each other rather than a decision made on a whim. jiwon moans loudly when you softly and carefully bite on the hard bud, but she was quick to regain composure when she notices something quite… well, interesting.

jiwon sees how you humped the mattress slightly, trying your best to soothe that buzzing in your core on your own. jiwon decides to swiftly slide her thigh in between your legs and press it against your wet cunt, feeling all satisfied when you whine and start slowly grinding on her thigh for further stimulation. your hand that was pinching her other nipple was now gripping the sheets as you started riding jiwon’s thigh faster, whining even more as you feverishly sucked and nipped on her tit. jiwon grins, loving how she hasn’t lost her special little talent of reducing you to her obedient pet. she starts meeting your little thrusts by raising her thigh—somehow, the sight of you like this had her soaked, but you haven’t noticed at all. you were too busy trying to get yourself off!

you had to let go of jiwon’s nipple eventually, now hugging her close and whining at her chest because you were feeling so good. you’ve started shaking and your moans were shorter and higher—it only meant one thing! jiwon takes a fistful of your hair and pulls your face up to make you look at her, ignoring how you winced at the pain.

“don’t cum.” she says strictly, her grip on your hair tightening by the second the more you thrust into her thigh.

“b-but..! hnng.. i’m s-so close…! so close…” the pout, the tears, that desperate tone in your voice… jiwon almost wanted to fold, but she wasn’t in the mood for that.

“you don’t get to cum before me ever, remember? be good.”

as much as it upset you, you slowly decreased your pace until you were merely sitting on her thigh. jiwon smiles—she was happy to know that she still had some sort of hold over you. she knew she always did! why, you were always clingy towards jiwon whenever her brother invited you over, and that was even before the two of you started sleeping with each other. she always used it to her advantage, mostly in bed, of course. something else jiwon always liked: that pitiful look on your cute face when she denies you of your release. you’d always look so timid after, afraid that if you spoke incorrectly, jiwon might stop the whole thing entirely.

but jiwon was never that cruel. she’d tease you, sure, but she would always make sure to give you what you want. just as long as she gets hers first.

“look,” you watched as jiwon’s hand traveled down from her stomach to her panties. she was drenched; your fault. “do something.” she demands. shit. the dark tone in her voice and the stern look on her face was enough to get you to move lower. you pulled off jiwon’s panties, your heart beating so fast for no goddamn reason. it has been a very long time since you have seen jiwon, let alone like this. acting like this, looking at you like this. it’s got you weak.

you stared at jiwon’s pussy. soaked, tight, perfect, and most importantly, all for you.

“how cute. you’re practically drooling.” jiwon impatiently puts her hand atop your head and brings your face closer to her needy cunt. you hoisted her legs over your shoulder, then you started leaving kisses along her inner thighs—deep and sensual kisses, slow and careful right up until your lips barely ghosted above her pussy. jiwon stares at you with anticipation, you stare back at her; your eyes now dark and hungry. you keep eye contact as you licked up her cunt once, smirking while you felt jiwon’s entire body shiver at the feeling. she pushes your head a little closer, so fucking desperate that you almost wanted to be petty and tease her, but she would probably hit you for that.

and so, you give her what she wants. within seconds of your lips touching her cunt once more, you were practically making out with it. goosebumps appeared along your skin as your tongue slowly got familiar with jiwon’s taste again. it felt right, like the stars have finally realigned themselves after years of floating about the expansive universe, lost. you put your hands to use, spreading her lips apart and pleasuring her clit.

“g-good…! there… mmhn.. (y/n)-ah…!” jiwon grabs a fistful of your hair again, pushing you impossibly closer to her cunt, practically grinding it against your face. you wrap your lips around the sensitive bud, sucking softly and moaning at jiwon’s sheer taste. fuck, it was all too good. you use one hand to grip one of her thighs, sinking your nails down to her skin, and spreading it further so you could have room.

“fuck..! i want to cum, (y/n)… m-more, more..! please…” jiwon’s back arches right as you flick the sensitive bud. you slipped your tongue inside her cunt, making jiwon moan just a tad bit louder than the hotel room walls would recommend her to. the next rooms most likely heard that—good. everyone needs to know how amazing you make her feel. how you’re the only one who can make her feel this way. and everyone’s going to know it again; you used your free hand to rub jiwon’s clit since your tongue was too busy inside her.

normally, this would’ve made jiwon cum. but she was strong this time around. “fucking—god, (y/n)…! more.. more…” jiwon pleads while on the verge of tears. you free her thigh of your grip and hold her hand instead, at least it helped her ground herself at least. the more you used your tongue inside her, the more you felt her clench. her grip gets tighter, both on your hand and on your hair. you briefly glanced upwards and saw her closing her eyes shut—she was close. but you found yourself being torn between letting her reach her climax now, stall a bit longer, or… make her orgasm just a lot stronger.

you pulled out your tongue from her cunt. jiwon hisses and nearly hits you on the head for slowing down and going back to sucking on her clit as you previously did. she glared at you, but was immediately back to being at your mercy when you unexpectedly inserted two of your fingers inside her. god, she was still tight. you stared in awe as you fucked jiwon in an excrutiatingly slow pace, merely watching as her pussy clenches around your digits. you pushed further, now knuckle-deep inside jiwon. you could cum from the sensation of her spongy walls brushing against your fingertips alone but you had to keep her rule in mind.

“m-mouth… use your mouth, (y/n).. ah!” and happily you did! your mouth and fingers worked in unison on jiwon’s pussy—every time you pulled out, you’d suck and lick her clit, the routine now going back to you. you’re remembering all the things she liked done to her, even down to the tiniest details. like eye contact. your eyes fluttered open, peering at jiwon through your fringe. she was already staring at you, her face contorted to show much pleasure you were bringing to her. jiwon has never once tried to conceal her noises and she wasn’t going to ask you to slow down or anything either. you both needed this, and unfortunately for this entire damn hotel, they were going to know just how much.

jiwon loosens her grip on your head once she realizes just how tight she was holding it, now threading your hair and only gently nudging you closer whenever she thinks your mouth isn’t doing enough. you curled your fingers inside her, making her tense up once more and bring her to that familiar edge. “please, please, please…!” jiwon whispers desperately like a prayer with a single tear running down her cheek. you increased your pace and buried your face in her cunt, not caring about making a mess of your face. all you cared about was satisfying your jiwon-unnie, and that you were successful when you brought her to a mind-blanking orgasm with a single flick of your tongue.

a long moan escapes jiwon’s lips as you continue to eat her out through her climax. god, she was delectable. you were determined to not waste a single drop of her cum, lapping her up like a dog and once more relishing at the taste of her juices on your tongue. you pull out your fingers as well, making sure jiwon sees you sucking on it to show her just how much you enjoy how she tastes. jiwon was beyond flustered and she was feeling all sorts of things—overwhelmed, weak, and perhaps most importantly of all, so fucking desperate to make you feel just as good.

you don’t hear her at first. jiwon was speaking in a small voice since she was still weak from everything you did, but you do hear her later on. “come here, baby,” the nickname practically sends you scurrying over on top of her again. jiwon wipes your chin clean with her hand, smiling brightly at you as she pulls you in for a sweet kiss. she can taste herself on your lips and your tongue, and a part of her understands why you’re so addicted. “unnie’s turn, hm?” she whispers against your lips… but her kisses have sent your brain elsewhere, hence your surprised gasp when you felt her gently rub your clit through your panties.

“hah… you’re still super sensitive here?” jiwon asked.

“t-that’s my clit, unnie.. of course, i’m—ahh—sensitive there…” cheeky. even when you’re the one at her mercy now. you pulled your panties off, throwing over to the pile of clothes on the carpeted floor. jiwon was teasing you: tracing your lips with her fingers, barely letting her fingertips touch your entrance, and not even giving your clit the attention it needs now. you whine as you grind down on jiwon’s hand, desperate for more contact but she refuses to touch you.

“aww, what’s with that face?” jiwon coos, laughing slightly. you had a mix of desperation and irritation on your face. it was annoying how she was being annoying, especially at such a crucial time but you knew the exact thing you had to do to get her going.

“unnie. please. i need you…” you pleaded. jiwon leans back on the pillow behind her, finding it so amusing to watch you slowly lose every ounce of self-respect just so you can cum. fuck, if jiwon wanted to be cruel, she could! she could make you beg all night, see those pretty eyes of yours shine with tears as you cry… the sick part of jiwon really wanted it all to come true, but she’s missed you too much to prolong this any further. and so, she pushes your face closer to her by the back of your neck, kissing you passionately just to get you to calm down.

one word jiwon would use to describe how she felt for the events that followed? relieving.

it was relieving to feel your warmth around the three fingers she inserted in your pussy at once, to feel your tongue inside her mouth, to bleed slightly from the way you held onto her arms so tightly, and it was most relieving to hear you say her name so sweetly. you can have such a dirty mouth with so many vulgar words to say, especially from years before when you were younger, but whenever you were with jiwon, you were a different person. jiwon was one of the only people who you allowed to see you like this: soft, weak, and so endearing. it seems like you haven’t changed that aspect about you, and that fact within itself was relieving to jiwon.

“unnie…!” you buried your head on the crook of jiwon’s neck as you felt every inch of her fingers brush against all of your sweet spots. as expected, things were always different when it came to jiwon. being so vulnerable to other people terrified you to the point where it was almost impossible to let your heart open to them, but jiwon made it so simple. but now that you were right here, looking at jiwon and feeling her everywhere, maybe it wasn’t just simply her that made it possible for you to let yourself fall.

wait… fall?

yes. fall. all this time—you’ve fallen for jiwon but too many things made it complicated for you to fully embrace it. but now you are ready.

“i’m so happy, (y/n),” jiwon’s voice felt like a dream. you almost couldn’t hear her properly due to how much her fingers overwhelmed you. the older girl used her free hand to lift your chin, making you look at her, before kissing your lips—it has always been her favorite thing to do. “i’m so happy you came back to me. i don’t know how to express how much i missed you… surely not with words, not even with this…” jiwon plunges her fingers deep, shushing you while you moan loudly. god, she knew you too well. knew which spot to hit to get you to lose your mind, knew the exact words to whisper in your ear when she notices you were slipping away from reality, and knew exactly how to make your heart beat like it never has before.

jiwon pulls her index finger out, now fucking you faster than she ever has with the only fingers she has inside you. “good girl. god, baby… you’re getting me wet again.” jiwon locks one of her legs around yours, keeping you in place. her palm slams against your sensitive clit, bringing tears to your eyes even though you grinded on her hand desperately to feel it over and over again. part of the reason why jiwon always needed to be the one to be fucked first is because you get so tired after your turn that you just pass out, and you never got out of that habit it seems. jiwon sees how the light was escaping your eyes, it was only a matter of time before you were too exhausted to keep yourself awake.

“hm, we have to be careful, huh? can you handle it, love?”

you nodded frantically, afraid that she’d slow down had you answered otherwise, “y-yes..! ahh, yes, i can. i can, unnie.. i can—mmhn..! i can take it…” you started moving your hips, riding jiwon’s fingers just to get closer and closer for that climax you’ve been chasing after the entire night. jiwon was thoroughly amused at how determined you were. normally, you’d give up or tap out if you found it all too much, but jiwon knows you want to be good for her. especially after all this time.

“you’re so cute… but don’t worry, baby,” jiwon places a sweet, deep kiss on your damp forehead. “we have all the time in the world now.”

a curl of her fingers later and you were cumming on jiwon’s hand. the older girl stopped her movements, afraid of overstimulating you. she whispers sweet words into your ears as you let yourself go, at least that's what you think she’s doing. you could barely keep your eyes open, let alone hear. but despite your consciousness slowly slipping away from you, you still felt jiwon gently lay you down on the spot next to her. she holds you close enough that she is within kissing distance.

she was so perfect—how could you have left her?

“unnie…” you tucked a piece of her behind her ear. her laugh makes your ears tingle. you faintly hear her ask if you’re feeling okay, to which you nodded weakly at. you can see her lips move, she was saying a few things, but you can’t hear her over the sound of your heartbeat. you cup her cheek, lean close, and kiss her. maybe it was your favorite thing to do, just like her. and then, words that have always been expected to be unsaid leave your lips. some feelings that have been kept hidden, secrets that you were afraid of letting slip.

“i love you, jiwon-unnie.”

long overdue, sure. even jiwon felt it before you ever said it to her. but she thinks that your bashful smile, the way you shyly looked away from her, and your precious reaction to her saying it back made it all worth the wait.

#ive smut #ive x reader #ive imagines #ive x fem reader #ive scenarios #kim jiwon smut #kim jiwon imagines #kim jiwon x reader #kim jiwon x fem reader #liz x fem reader #liz x reader #liz smut #liz imagines #liz scenarios #girl group smut #girl group x reader #girl group imagines #girl group scenarios #kpop smut

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emjayewrites · 26 days

Text

The Princess & The Race Car Driver | LH44

SYNOPSIS: Lewis meets Princess Tiana and he falls under her spell.

PAIRINGS: Lewis Hamilton x black!femOC Ariel Park (faceclaim is Coco Jones)

WARNINGS: flirting, discussion of sex/sex jokes, corny!Lewis, eventual romance?

TAGLIST: @queenshikongo3 @cocobutterqwueen @mauvecherie-writes @a-moment-captured @yeea-nah @melodichaeuxx-lacritquexx @lewisroscoelove @hxneyclouds @questionable-behaviour @lovebittenbyevans @tian-monique @alika-4466 @saintslewis @cherry2stems @planetmimi @woderfulkawaii @d3kstar @liamundi @trinitoldyouso @scorpiobleue @omgsuperstarg @certifiedlesbianbaddie @serpenttines-library @peyiswriting @motheroffae @hrlzy @sinflowersugar @vile-harlot @xoscar03 @blveeeeee @everywherea11thetime @blckgrl-sunflower @whoreforjjk @blowmymbackout

A/N: Please comment & reblog! I don't know if this will be a mini-series or not....we shall see.

disney and 3 others

liked by arielpark, lewishamilton, pharrell and 1.3m others

disney: Check out these brand-new behind-the-scenes stills from #ThePrincessandTheFrog, only in theaters this August! 👸🏾 🐸

If some of you are attending next week’s F1 race in Melbourne, be sure to say hello to #PrincessTiana herself, arielpark! tagged arielpark, princessandthefrogmovie

view 1,234 comments

arielpark: ah!! so happy! looks so good! 💚

⤷ disney: arielpark you look good #ForeverOurPrincess

mercedesamgf1: so excited to have arielpark at the race! she’s going to enjoy the hot lap!

⤷ arielpark: mercedesamgf1 what’s a hot lap? 🫤

⤷ lewishamilton: arielpark 🏎️💨

⤷ user: lewishamilton what is this, lew? not you trying to make her guess with emojis 🙄

user: so excited!! my two worlds are colliding!! arielpark you’re gonna love it!

Toto Wolff called for everyone's attention as the morning team meeting at the Mercedes AMG Petronas Formula One Team garage began. Once the chatter ceased, he launched right in.

"Today we have a very special guest joining us for the race weekend - Ariel Park, the actress set to play Princess Tiana in the upcoming live-action remake of The Princess and the Frog."

A buzz of excitement rippled through the room. This was a lucrative sponsorship deal with Disney that Toto wanted to ensure went perfectly.

"I want Ariel to have an amazing experience," he stated firmly. "This is an important partnership, so I expect everyone to be on their best behavior." His gaze landed on Mick Schumacher. "Mick, you'll be taking her out for a hot lap later."

Lewis Hamilton's hand shot up. "Actually, I can do the hot lap instead if you'd like."

Toto's brow furrowed slightly but he nodded. "Very well. Lewis will be Ariel's driver."

It was no secret that with Lewis' planned move to Ferrari in 2025, Mercedes had been sidelining him from some promotional duties lately. But Lewis had his own motivations for volunteering - he was quite interested in getting to know their lovely guest better.

At twenty-seven years old, Ariel Park was making waves as an up-and-coming actress with an impressive resume. After graduating from Penn State, she had carved out a nice career on Broadway before landing her huge break with the Disney role. And from the images Lewis had seen, she was absolutely gorgeous - ebony skin, wide hips, and a beautifully curved backside that was hard to ignore.

A few hours later, Ariel arrived at the Mercedes garage just before Free Practice. Even amidst the controlled chaos, Lewis couldn't take his eyes off her as she approached. She was utterly stunning - ebony skin glowing like polished onyx, wide eyes fringed with lush lashes, luscious lips curved in a warm smile. Ariel was introduced to the drivers - Lewis, George Russell, and reserve Mick Schumacher - exchanging friendly hugs with each of them.

When Lewis' turn came, her lithe body pressed flush against his own, soft curves molding to the hard planes of his chest. An intoxicating blend of exotic floral and rich vanilla washed over him. He breathed it in deeply, committing the hypnotic scent to memory.

As they parted, Lewis let his gaze leisurely trail over her, taking in the striking features he'd admired in photographs - gorgeous face, radiant skin, and an hourglass figure to leave anyone's mouth watering. Her wide hips flared temptingly above sculpted thighs, backside a work of art that even her slim-fitting jeans struggled to contain.

"You smell incredible," he murmured appreciatively, flashing her his most charming smile, as he went in for another whiff of her scent. "What perfume is that?"

Ariel seemed momentarily flustered by the compliment, cheeks warming as she smiled at him adorably.

"Oh, it's actually a blend of an Arabian perfume oil layered with vanilla body butter and wash."

Lewis hummed in approval, allowing his gaze to linger overtly on her luscious mouth. "I like that." In his head, he added, A lot more than I probably should.

This woman was a goddess, pure and simple. Her siren call was already working under his skin in a way he didn't expect. As if he needed another incentive to look forward to driving her around the track later.

As the drivers made their way to the pre-practice briefing, Lewis found himself stealing glances at Ariel from across the room. She looked equally alluring when standing still - those curves on full display as she chatted animatedly with one of the PR reps, gesturing expressively with her hands.

He watched the way her rose-tinted lips moved, briefly mesmerized by that bright smile. A few stray tendrils of her dark, glossy curls had escaped her updo, framing her heart-shaped face and accentuating those high-sculpted cheekbones.

Good lord, she was a vision. Lewis had to tear his eyes away with an internal shake before his thoughts wandered any further down that dangerous path.

The meeting mercifully provided a short reprieve from Ariel's tantalizing presence. But all too soon, it was time to give her the full VIP experience with a hot lap around the track. Lewis tried his best to tune out the heated rush of anticipation flooding his veins as they headed toward the sleek Mercedes AMG GT he'd be driving her in.

Up close again, the warm, spicy vanilla notes of her perfume caressed his senses like a lover's breath against his skin. He caught himself leaning infinitesimally closer, unconsciously drawn into her intoxicating orbit.

"Ready for the ride of your life, Ariel?" he murmured.

She nibbled her full lower lip - whether consciously or not, he didn't know. But the simple, seemingly innocent gesture nearly undid him right then and there. Heat punched low in his belly as those plump lips instantly became the sole focus of his world.

"More than ready," she replied, her tone taking on a husky quality that had his heart kick-starting into a heated gallop.

As she ducked under his arm to climb into the low-slung sports car, the swell of her ample breasts brushed ever so slightly against his chest. Every nerve ending across his body stood at rapt attention. Lewis sucked in a sharp breath through his nostrils, forcing himself to regulate his breathing.

Get a fuckin' grip, he scolded himself sternly. No doubt, this woman was a bombshell, but he needed to conduct himself like a professional, no matter how enticing the temptation.

With a herculean force of will, Lewis slid into the driver's seat, allowing the familiar environment of the powerful car's interior to re-center him, yet even as the twin-turbocharged V8 engine roared to life, he couldn't resist one last look over at his stunning female companion. And what he saw in her heated gaze threatened to shatter what little restraint he had left.

Lewis could feel the adrenaline pumping through his veins as he tore around the track in the powerful Mercedes AMG GT. He risked a glance at Ariel in the passenger seat, taking in her wide-eyed expression with amusement.

As he drifted hard into a corner, her startled scream pierced the air.

"Oh my god!" She clutched at the door frantically, thankful for the sturdy seatbelt keeping her firmly in place. Even so, the brutal g-forces threatened to tug her luscious body sideways.

Lewis chuckled darkly. "You might want to keep those gorgeous eyes open, love. You'll miss everything."

He doubled-clutched and downshifted aggressively, the fat rear tires breaking traction with a squeal of protestation. Ariel yelped again, hands flying up to cover her face as Lewis powered them sideways in a perfect drift around the next bend.

"Want me to do a donut?" he called over the roar of the engine.

Through her fingers, he caught the frantic shaking of Ariel's head. Lewis wasn't having it. "Oh come on, that's the best part! Please?"

He knew he was pushing her limits, but he couldn't resist laying on the puppy dog eyes, unleashing the full force of his most devastating pout. Eventually, Ariel relented with an exasperated sigh.

"Hell yeah!" Lewis crowed triumphantly. He stamped the accelerator, pitching them into a frenzy of spinning rubber and screaming cylinders as he whipped the car through a series of tight donuts.

When he finally let off, Ariel slumped back against the seat, chest heaving. "Thank you, Jesus," she gasped, making the sign of the cross over her heart.

Lewis drank in her disheveled appearance hungrily. Those exotic features were even more alluring flushed with adrenaline and fear, pouty lips parted enticingly. He reached over to place a calming hand on her trembling thigh.

"Deep breaths, love," he murmured. "In…and out. Like this."

He exaggerated his own inhales and exhales until Ariel regained her composure. "Thanks," she managed shakily.

Lewis gave her leg a reassuring squeeze. "Of course. I didn't mean to terrorize a Disney princess. Don't want the Mouse coming after me."

The quip had the intended effect - a bright peal of laughter escaping those luscious lips. Lewis grinned, mesmerized.

"I like that," he admitted frankly.

Ariel arched one sculpted brow. "Like what?"

"Your laugh."

Her eyes danced with mischief. "Well you seem to like a lot of things about me, Lewis."

He shrugged innocently, his whiskey-brown eyes trailing over the tempting swell of her cleavage. "What can I say? You're a beautiful woman. Kind of hard not to find attractive."

Ariel's full lips curved into a coy smile as she cocked her head accusingly. "Is that what that is? Are you flirting with me, Mr. Hamilton?"

Suddenly serious, Lewis met her gaze directly. "Because I am." He paused, heartrate spiking at his own boldness. "Let me take you to dinner to make up for terrifying you."

Ariel's fingertip toyed idly with the fraying of her jeans, the action drawing Lewis' eye inexorably to her shapely thighs. "Alright then," she agreed easily. "I do like to eat."

Lewis bit his lower lip as he lingered over those lush curves. "I can see that…"

@arielpark • posted a story 15 minutes ago

story comments:

user: ahhh!!! this has to be lewis!!! he looks good from every angle!!

mercedesamgf1: reposted the story someone’s having fun 👀

lewishamilton: reposted the story The Princess is in the building! 👸🏾 🐸

On the way inside the restaurant, Ariel ducked into the bathroom to call her best friend and assistant, Tiffany. She felt uncharacteristically nervous energy thrumming through her veins.

"Tiff, I need your advice," she whispered urgently. "This date with Lewis…I don't know what to expect."

"Girl, that man is fiiine!" Tiffany gushed. "And from what I've seen, he seems like a solid guy too. Just enjoy yourself."

Ariel chewed her lower lip, recalling Lewis' intense yet playful demeanor. He was undeniably gorgeous with his chiseled features, soulful brown eyes, and physique sculpted by years of intense training. How his tight shirts hugged those broad shoulders and outlined the ropes of muscle across his chest made her mouth water.

And the borderline predatory looks he'd leveled her way, sweeping over her body like he wanted to devour her whole? Her thighs clenched instinctively at the memory of that heated appraisal.

"I don't know, Tiff," she fretted. "It's been so long since I've been…intimate with someone. What if I'm rusty?"

Tiffany cackled on the other end. "Then let Mr. Hamilton be the one to knock some cobwebs off that pussy! You need to get laid, sis."

"Tiffany!" Ariel hissed, cheeks flaming even as laughter bubbled up despite herself.

"I'm serious," her friend insisted, voice taking on a softer tone. "You work your ass off, Ari. You deserve to cut loose and have some fun for once, even if it's just amazing rebound sex."

Ariel rolled her eyes but couldn't contain her grin as she emerged from the bathroom. Lewis was waiting, looking like a delicious snack in those designer jeans and a fitted yellow shirt. He flashed her a panty-melting smile that she felt straight down to her core.

"Ready, love?"

She swallowed hard and nodded, falling into step beside him. Over a vegan dinner that surprised Ariel with its deliciousness, their conversation flowed easily.

"So you're an environmental activist as well as a racecar driver?" Ariel asked with an intrigued tilt of her head.

"Among other things." Lewis nodded, spearing a forkful of vegetables. "It's a cause I'm incredibly passionate about. I want to use my platform to raise awareness and drive real change."

"That's really admirable." Ariel found herself leaning in, captivated. "What kind of initiatives are you working on?"

As Lewis launched into an impassioned explanation, complete with expressive hand gestures, Ariel marveled at the depth of his convictions. Her eyes were inevitably drawn to those long-fingered hands - strong and capable, yet with an undercurrent of gentleness.

"…so that's the plan for the upcoming sustainability project," he concluded. Those soulful eyes crinkled at the corners with his warm smile. "But enough about me for now, love. Tell me more about this Disney role that's making you the next big star."

Ariel ducked her head, cheeks warming at the genuine interest and admiration in his gaze. "I don't know about that. It's just such an incredible honor to bring Princess Tiana's story to life."

The night passed in a blur of tantalizing conversation, with Lewis' delicious sense of humor and cheeky banter constantly catching Ariel off guard. She couldn't remember the last time she'd felt so enthralled by a man's mind as well as his obvious physical attributes.

Between Lewis' attractive principles, quick wit, and the electrifying chemistry simmering between them, she found herself all too eager to extend their time together. Each time their gazes met and held, the heat and tension built exponentially until she could barely focus on her food.

"Would you like to get a drink somewhere?" Lewis asked once their plates had been cleared, dark eyes dancing with suggestion.

Desire curled low in her belly as Ariel bit her lip, giving him a slow once-over from across the table. "I'd love to."

Ariel shifted restlessly in her seat at the paddock club, unable to keep her mind from replaying the previous night over and over. She and Lewis hadn't gone all the way - he was an absolute gentleman, never pushing her further than she wanted to go, but oh, the heavy petting and heated make-out session they'd engaged in…

She squeezed her thighs together as desire pooled low in her belly, recalling the electrifying feel of Lewis' strong hands roaming her body. The way his chest hair had tickled her palms as she'd mapped every ridge and plane…

"Get it together, Ariel," she muttered under her breath, fanning herself lightly.

In her mind's eye, she could still see Lewis hovering over her on the hotel room's plush sofa, all coiled power and masculine intensity. His full lips had been swollen from kissing, eyes dark with want as they'd raked over her trembling form.

"You're so gorgeous," he'd rasped, dipping his head to trail open-mouthed kisses along the column of her throat. "Smell incredible too…"

Ariel had arched into him with a shameless mewl, fingers buried in his braids. Every nerve ending had been alight, skin blazing under Lewis' skilled touch.

"Lewis…" she'd sighed his name as his hand found her breast, kneading it reverently.

The sudden blaring of the race announcer's voice jolted Ariel from her lascivious reverie. She startled, blinking rapidly as she refocused on her current surroundings at the track.

All around her, the other VIPs were cheering excitedly as the cars took their formation lap. Heat bloomed in Ariel's cheeks - had she really been daydreaming about Lewis so salaciously in public?

"Come on, 44!" she called out, caught up in the infectious energy. Her eyes locked on Lewis' sleek Mercedes as it purred past the stands, heart jackhammering with a combination of adrenaline and lingering arousal.

The race passed in a high-octane blur of sound and fury. Ariel was on the edge of her seat every heart-stopping moment, fists clenched in a white-knuckle grip whenever Lewis made an aggressive overtaking move.

Suddenly, a commotion erupted over the radio communications and her breath hitched. No…it couldn't be. As the commentary confirmed her worst fears, she collapsed back in her chair with a dismayed groan.

"Lewis, no!" she cried in dismay, watching in shock as his crippled car rolled slowly into the pits to retire from the race.

Disappointment and worry for his safety warred within her as the pit crew swarmed around him. Ariel's fingers twitched with the overwhelming urge to go to him, to wrap her arms around his strong frame and check for herself that he was unharmed.

Instead, she stayed frozen in place, lips parted on a silent prayer as she willed images of their passionate tryst from invading her mind again. She was in far too deep already with this man. God help her if anything happens to him.

Ariel's anxious vigil was interrupted as the race commentators confirmed Lewis had been forced to retire due to a terminal power failure, not a crash. She exhaled a relieved sigh, slumping back in her seat.

Thank goodness he's okay.

Still, her heart ached for him as she watched Lewis climb dejectedly from his stricken car, ripping off his helmet and tossing it aside in frustration. He ran one large hand through his sweat-dampened hair. Even from a distance, she could make out the taut lines of tension in his broad shoulders and clenched jaw.

He has to be devastated.

Unbidden, memories of the previous night resurfaced - the unguarded vulnerability in Lewis' warm brown eyes as he'd gazed down at her, the tender path his fingers had carved along her skin. Ariel shivered despite the sweltering pit-lane temperatures, recalling how content and cherished she'd felt in his arms.

She had to go to him. Whatever this undeniable connection between them was becoming, she needed Lewis to know she understood his pain in that moment.

"I'll be right back," Ariel murmured distractedly to her publicist, already rising and slipping away through the crowd.

Making her way down to the team's cordoned-off area was like swimming against the tide of a raucous sea of fans. Ariel kept her head down, focusing on her goal of reaching Lewis' side.

When she finally broke through the mass of bodies, she spotted him bent over the workbench, forearms braced as he studied the telemetry readings with a stormy expression. A few of his crew members hovered nearby, clearly giving the gutted driver a wide berth.

"Lewis?" she called out hesitantly as she walked toward him.

His head whipped up at the sound of her voice and Ariel's breath caught at the naked disappointment burning in those soulful eyes.

"I'm so sorry," she murmured, wishing she could erase that haggard edge of defeat weighing on his features.

Lewis let out a harsh exhale. "Yeah, not a good day..."

His admission struck her like a physical blow - laid bare, haunted by the echoes of countless past heartbreaks and near-misses.

"Do you want me to leave—"

"No," he interrupted, albeit too harshly at first. Clearing his throat, he gave her a small smile. "Stay."

"Okay," was her response as she sat next to him on the bench. "At least Verstappen is out too. I heard from my publicist that there's beef between your teams?"

He let out a hearty chuckle at her words as he nudged her softly. "You don't know a thing bout F1, do you gorgeous?"

"Not a goddamn thing," she quipped with a giggle. "All I know is that the cars go very fast around the track and, of course, the drama."

"Fair enough," he concurred, eyes traveling down her frame. "It seems like I have to teach you a few things..."

"It seems like you do."

arielpark and 4 others - Melbourne, Australia

liked by lewishamilton, f1, f1paddockclub, mercedesamgf1 and 978k others

arielpark: This past weekend was so much fun! Thanks for having me! tagged lewishamilton, georgerussell63, mercedesamgf1, f1

view 2,459 comments

lewishamilton: arielpark pleasure meeting u...should definitely get together again 💕

⤷ user: so we're not going to address the fact that you and arielpark were spotted having dinner together?

⤷ lewisfanclub: he irks me, i swear! we all have eyes and it's all over the internet, lew lew. 😒

⤷ user: he irks me too 😫

comment liked by lewishamilton

⤷ user: not him liking this message! lewishamilton throw us a bone!! 🦴 😭

georgerussell63: arielpark nice meeting you, your highness 👸🏾

mercedesamgf1: arielpark the pleasure was all ours!

landonorris: arielpark thank you for saying hi to us! next time, we gotta get you in mclaren orange 🧡

⤷ lewishamilton: nah...never that, mate

⤷ user: and i….oop 🤭 you’re not gonna beat those allegations now sir

⤷ lewisfanclub: if they get together, i will never live it down & i’ll be running to change my username

With Ariel in London working on the album that will accompany the movie, she and Lewis had kept in regular contact after the Australian Grand Prix, occasionally exchanging friendly texts and calls. There was some gossip buzz about them potentially dating, but Ariel's team worked diligently to shut down any relationship rumors.

While Ariel was on a break from recording sessions, she received a text from Lewis hinting for her to come visit him in Tokyo. Part of her was tempted by the opportunity to see him again after they had hit it off so well, yet another part of her couldn't help but hesitate.

Scoffing at the message in disbelief, she then yelled for Tiffany to come over. Tiffany entered the lounge and gave Ariel a worried look. "You good, sis?"

Ariel showed her the message, causing Tiffany to squeal in delight. "Girl, this is your chance! Shit, if you don't get your ass on a plane to Tokyo and ride this man like a rodeo, I swear on our Lord and Savior, I'll beat your ass."

"Tiffany!" Ariel exclaimed. "You're crazy. I barely know this man, I can't just go off to Tokyo."

"And why not?" Tiffany said, crossing her arms.

Ariel gestured around them with a sardonic laugh. "I mean…do I need to explain?"

Tiffany gave her a dismissive eye-roll. "Please, this album is ninety percent finished. Go get some dick and stop being afraid of it. Have you been doing those pelvic floor exercises I told you about?"

"Yeah," she nodded.

"Good," grinned Tiffany, "because judging from the pictures I've seen of him, old boy has a third leg."

"Oh, fuck me!" groaned Ariel with a facepalm.

"Exactly!" Tiffany said, already pulling out her phone. "I'm looking up flights right now. When can you be packed?"

Suddenly considering her friend's point, Ariel felt herself starting to warm up to the idea of a travel adventure…

#the princess and the race car driver #sir lewis hamilton #emjayewrites #lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton fanfic #sir lewis hamilton x black!reader #lewis hamilton x black!reader #lewis hamilton x oc #lewis hamilton x black oc #f1 x black!reader #f1 x reader

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thedevilspearl · 10 months

Text

author’s note ʚɞ i’m testing the waters with this one so please be kind about it. please also excuse the pet name sugar tits, i think it’s hot don’t judge me >_<

tags ʚɞ 5.6k words, dark content, mammon x female reader, bully!mammon, dubcon (forced consent), non–consensual photo taking, semi–public sex, (public) groping, blowjob, degradation, name calling, praise, pet names, humiliation kink, breeding kink, dacryphillia. minors do not interact!

ʏᴏᴜ’ᴠᴇ ʜᴀᴅ ɪᴛ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴍᴀᴍᴍᴏɴ and his antics. it’s beyond ridiculous at this point. never did you imagine becoming his target but when you think about it long enough, you realise your whole existence in the devildom was set up to be a laughing stock from the beginning.

back when you had just arrived, he acted as your tour guide but then forced you to cover his dinner duties at home. he helped you with your homework since you were new to the subjects but demanded you pay him back with all of your saved grimm. he even lent you some of his friends to help curb your homesickness only to have them report back every little detail so he could blackmail you later on.

and those kind of things happen when he’s being nice; unfortunately for you, mammon is very rarely nice. not a day goes by where he doesn’t find a way to make your life hell.

mammon, the avatar of greed, the second eldest of the powerful demon brothers, and as he likes to call himself, your first man, rarely shows kindness towards you unless he can gain something from it.

even if he gets nothing in return, he will go out of his way. from tripping you up in hallways to stealing your possessions, and forcing you to complete his homework to treating you like his lackey. anything and everything he does is in some way or another intended to bring you misery.

you’ve grown accustomed to being pushed around and laughed at for the sake of some demon’s entertainment, but there’s something else you’ve also grown used to.

the fact is, mammon gives you more attention than he gives anyone, even himself. and it’s a delusional way to think but it helps you cope with your sorrowful life in the devildom.

you’ve considered confiding in someone; surely the bullying would cease if diavolo found out mammon was harming the student exchange programme like this. but at the end of the day, mammon held more power over you than diavolo himself.

each and every decision you make, reluctantly or otherwise, gives him more power as the days go by. because you have no other choice but to go along with it; and if you don’t want to, he’ll simply blackmail you.

a while ago, you became incredibly close to knocking on lucifer’s door and confessing everything after mammon snapped pictures of you showering and threatened to post them if you didn’t do what he said. lamentably, you gave up on the effort.

if lucifer found out, he would have punished mammon. and after that, you have no doubt mammon would come after you with those big threats again. and you’ve never been in a position strong enough to fight back against him.

the pathetic little human, the bane of his life. yet, he can’t seem to stay away from you. demons are inherently evil creatures, that is a known fact. but after coming to the devildom, you learned demons are, in fact, not all monster.

they have bodies that look human and thoughts and feelings which may be questionable at time but still similar enough to the people in your own world to make you think wait a minute, they’re not all bad.

but that was before mammon revealed his irrational hatred for you. it has nothing to do with him hating humans or those weaker than him and everything to do with his dark, twisted infatuation with you. he’s the definition of cruel and demonic and you feel his animosity deep in your bones, now more than ever.

you don’t know how he did it, but staring at an empty locker where your rad uniform should be sitting boils your blood.

filled with fury, you storm out of the changing rooms in search of the demon.

mammon had already shrunk your sports kit by turning up the temperature when they were getting washed so your usually loose–fitting shorts cling to your thighs and butt. and after getting caught in the rain five minutes ago, you rushed inside to change your sodden white shirt.

but you were foolish to think things would go your way and now you’re storming through rad’s hallways with shorts riding up your ass and your bra fully visible under the wet shirt clinging to you. you’re overflowing with so much rage that you don’t care about the demons eyeing you in the tight clothes or licking their lips as you rush past them.

you spot your nemesis at the end of the hallway and for a moment, your heart stops beating. inhaling deeply, you build the courage to storm up to the white–haired demon.

he’s surrounded by his cronies, laughing at some sleazy joke that came out of his mouth and he refuses to look at you despite you standing in front of him. you know he knows you’re there. but in mammon fashion, he publicly humiliates you once again by completely ignoring you.

meanwhile, a small crowd of hungry demons gathers around you and your heart patters, shying under their interested eyes. but now is not a time to show weakness. now is the time to finally put mammon in his place, which is rather ironic since his place is among the strongest beings in all three realms and you are but a measly human.

“hey!” you shout and he rolls his eyes before finally turning to look at you.

just the sight of him infuriates you, but you’re not sure if the heat growing in your core is rooted from fury or from the way his eyes rake up and down your body. he blue orbs fall to your feet and slowly rise, taking in every detail of your frame.

little do you know, the shape of your body has him salivating. his eyes linger at your thighs, so thick and plush; your hips, so curvaceous and delicious; your tits, so tempting with your perky nipples poking through and your lacey bra visible under the wet shirt.

the tip of his tongue runs under his fangs before wetting his lips as they inch up one side of his face. as attractive as his smirk is, you want to slap it right off his face.

“what’s up, sugar tits?” he quirks his brows, nodding his head to notion the attention he has for the state of your chest, hence the nickname.

you follow his gaze downwards, fully grasping how much of your breasts were on display. you gasp, covering them but it does nothing to hide your entire ass also being showcased.

damn, mammon thinks. you might as well not be wearing any underwear with how tightly your shorts are pressed against your pussy. he can see everything.

“i knew ya were a desperate little thing,” mammon taunts. “but i didn’t think you’d be so dumb to come beg for me in front of everyone.”

“i didn’t come to beg!” you yell, cowering as the crowd fills with laughs and jeers.

“then what did ya come for?” mammon rolls his eyes.

“i came here to…”

“….to what?” mammon steps closer. his scent is intoxicating as it surrounds you. “ya came here to yell at me, the great mammon?”

“n-no….” you mutter, suddenly afraid of his close proximity. with ever step forward he makes, you take one back which ends with your back against the wall and his big frame caging you against it.

he creates a little cave between your bodies that holds barely enough air for you to breathe. just like always, he controls you in any situation. if he doesn’t want you to breathe, he will simply steal all the air you could possibly breathe. and that means locking you tightly between his body and the wall will suffocate you as much as he wants it to, regardless of your pleas for forgiveness.

“i’m sorry....i–i shouldn’t have yelled at you....i didn’t mean to.”

whatever flattery you have in your tone fails to do the job as he closes in, the space between you negligent while you try to figure out a way to escape.

but as your body heats up from mammon forcing proximity, his hands begin to roam your body and you lose the ability to think straight.

“aww, the little human’s blushing. ya like me being this close?” you whimper against him, but he leans in to your ear and whispers, “want me to touch you?”

a quiet but still audible gasp drifts to his ears and he reigns in the delicacy of the sound. such a sweet, pretty sound. he simply needs to hear it again.

“you do, don’t you?” he chuckles lowly. “just say the words and i’ll do it.”

despite every cell in your brain rooting against you, you quietly whisper back to him, “please.... please touch me.”

a rumble sounds in his chest, growling from the pleasure of you inviting him to touch you. the heat radiates from your body, your desperation oozing from your pores. and there’s something else coming from your body, something you’re so ashamed to admit.

mammon’s teasing alone is enough to create wetness between your legs and succumbing to his dominance has your pussy producing more arousal with each throb of your lips.

“ah!” you gasp as a large hand cups your breast. you push his arm away but it only tightens his grip on it. “mammon....”

“these are some sweet tits, mc. shame ya hid ’m from me for so long.”

you have no chance to protest as he moves onto the next, grabbing both your breasts and squeazing hard. you cry out, hoping it would signal for help but it comes out as a moan instead, arousing the audience further.

every demon wants a piece of you, but mammon lays his claim on your body by roaming every inch of it, grabbing every bit of flesh as if it’s the only thing keeping him sane, which might well be true.

with the way he kneads your ass between his rough fingers, you’re just about ready to submit to him completely, to sacrifice your entire body to him so he can have his way and be satisfied.

“fuck,” mammon grumbles as his hands slide lower; you moan and whimper, embarrassed by your helpless position. there’s no way you can come back from this, not when mammon’s hand cups your pussy, rubbing up and down to bring you the relief you so desperately needed. and to his surprise, he finds more than what he expected. “look at that! she soaked through her panties and her shorts.”

“it’s your fault they’re so tight on me....”

“but it’s your fault that you’re this fucking wet,” he reminds you, and you back down with a heavy blush. “you’re the one getting turned on by this, sicko.”

he continues groping you, fondling your tits and squeezing your ass before his hand moves to your front and cups your tight pussy over and over again. you find what energy you have in you to hide your moans but it’s a failed attempt. as quiet as they are, he still hears them.

“fuck,” he groans into your ear, and whispers so no one else can hear his filthy voice. “wanna fuck this pussy so bad.”

“d-don’t….” you whimper, but your resistance earns a harsh grip on your ass. his fingers dig deep into your flesh, sure to leave behind bruises. “stop....”

“hah? you’re telling me, the great mammon, no? darlin’, ya already know how that’s gonna turn out.”

your gaze is blurred by tears — from embarrassment, from shame, from arousal. you can barely understand the plethora of sensations in your body but you do know that mammon touching you is so wrong even if it feels so right.

it confuses you so much that you can’t stop your hand from rising and colliding with his face. at least your gut instincts are still working. you push him away in the moment he is stunned and your palm stings from the slap.

the entire right side of his face burns red as he holds it.

“the fuck?!” he growls, bearing his fangs at you. “you fucking hit me?”

the crowd gasps and mutters as he dives towards you with his fists raised. you brace for impact, ready to be slammed into the wall. he’s never hurt you so badly before, but today just happens to be the day where all lines are crossed.

you gasp, holding up your hands to protect your face but as if time has frozen, you don’t feel the impact coming. when you finally breathe and look up, mammon looks down at you with raging eyes and a contorted face — as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was about to do.

before you can even think to question why he stopped himself, the two demons you least expect to see appear, parting the crowd as they arrive: lucifer, with diavolo trailing behind him.

“what is the meaning of this?” diavolo bellows, his eyes draping down your form.

lucifer’s cheeks burn, not from blushing but rather, anger, embarrassment, humiliation. “what on earth are you wearing?”

regret floods you as you remember your position in their household. and you’ve brought shame onto the brothers for flaunting yourself around rad dressed in what might as well be underwear.

diavolo’s voice is a bit more kind towards you, but he’s definitely pissed. “i’m going to assume you aren’t aware of the dress code within these walls, mc. might i remind you that dressing inappropriately will result in punishment. as will attacking another student. you will both receive detention effective immediately.”

“it was mammon—”

“stop your sputtering,” lucifer snaps. “go change this instant.”

“but….my uniform was stolen.”

“by who?”

you glance slyly to the white–haired demon beside you and your heart hammers. you could tell lucifer now, tell him everything that mammon has ever done to you. but mammon’s death glare scares you. not because of what he might do to you if you snitch, but how you’ll feel if he is ordered to never interact with you again.

you’re sure diavolo would put a stop to the bullying straight away, maybe even move you out of the house of lamentation. but that means you’ll see less of mammon and despite how much you hate him, you’ll feel lonely without his constant unwarranted attention.

“never mind,” you mutter. “i’ll find it.”

you arrived to detention on time, not wanting to anger lucifer any further. thankfully, the eldest had figured out it was mammon who stole your uniform and had him return it. the classroom is empty save for your sorrowful soul.

you hope mammon doesn’t come. he skips detentions just like he skips classes so you’re happy to have some time alone to calm down before heading home.

but as your luck would have it, the demon struts in, spotting you in your seat before striding over to sit beside you.

“you can sit anywhere in the room but you choose to sit next to me?” you scoff. “i thought you were supposed to hate me.”

“i do.”

“then why are you sitting next to me?”

mammon won’t allow that, though. he’s in control. whatever fantasies you have of him being soft and affectionate with you are over the seconds he decides them to be and right now, he puts an end to them by slipping his hand under your blazer and cupping your breast.

“so i can do this.” mammon raises his hand, slowly but it’s still concerning. his fingers brush your hair away from your face and your mind spins from the action. his thumb creeps closer, brushing the soft, sensitive skin of your lips.

you’re afraid to look at him, to see the gentleness hidden beneath his mean facade knowing that you’d fall for it in an instant.

you were beginning to feel the phantom of his touches from earlier, which is nothing if not the biggest red flag. but having his hand places on them again, fondling them eagerly is infinitely better than the memories of his corroding touch.

every second which passes with his hands on you, another part of you is corrupted by him and those few sacred, untouched parts rebel against all odds and finally give you some self–restraint and control.

“don’t touch me!” you whack his arm away and scoot over to the next chair, embarrassed that you almost fell for him again. every single time he teases you with niceties and gentle gestures that border flirtation, you find yourself hoping that it might be real.

but he’s just playing with you like he always has. he wants nothing more than to make you feel like a fool under his charms. your humiliation is food to him.

“come on, you said it was fine earlier. let me do it again.”

“no,” you say firmly. “i don’t want you to touch me anymore.”

mammon huffs. “suit yourself.”

hopefully with a seat between you, he’ll put an end to his interest in you and ignore you just like you’re ignoring him.

but choosing to ignore him would be your biggest mistake because when you glance over, in the corner of your eye you see on his ddd a photo of you naked in the shower. your body jolts at the sight of it.

“what the hell, mammon?!” you scream. “what are you doing?”

“gonna post it on devilgram, duh.”

“wait, mammon! don’t!” you try grabbing for his phone but he yanks your arm away from it and pushes you away.

“come on,” he whistles. “show me your tits.”

“what....”

he threatens you by holding his thumb over the post button. “didn’t want me to touch you, well now you gotta do what i say or i’ll post ’em”

“please, mammon. don’t do this.”

“nuh-uh. you should be on your knees begging me if you want me to stop.”

an inhumane noise releases from your throat. you’re not quite sure what it was — a growl of frustration, a beg for help? you’ll bever know because you’re too busy sinking to your knees pleading for mercy.

“not yet,” mammon stops you before your knees graze the ground. “get your tits out first.”

“what?”

“fuck, how many times do i need to say it?” he stares at you, demanding your obedience and you slowly rise, shamefully removing your blazer. “that’s better.”

his demonic blue–gold eyes cut through your skin and you unbutton your shirt one button at a time, shrugging it off so it falls down your shoulders but still hooked on your elbows. mammon salivates at the sight of your pretty chest.

he’s been waiting to see them since he saw you earlier, but fuck. this is the real deal. your breasts sit nicely in their lacey cups and just like a few hours ago, your slutty nipples poke through.

his hand immediately goes to his crotch and palms himself. you feel sick, disgusted but the way his hand moves against himself and his reddening cheeks turns you on. you try to look away from him, but you simply cannot do so.

“c’mere,” mammon mutters and with the phone in his hand ready to post your nude pictures, you do as he says. “get on your knees.”

when they touch the ground, your body shudders and you settle in front of him. there are no words to describe the way he looks down at you. you almost feel like it’s a blessing to be looked at by him at all.

“take my dick outta my pants.”

“what?”

“are ya dumb or something? take my fucking dick out of my pants.”

you can tell his patience is running thin and you don’t dare to test him further when he waves his ddd in front of your face. you reach up with shaky hands to unzip his pants but he stops you again.

“do it with your mouth.”

what kind of fantasies must he be having to order you to do such a thing? well, they’re the fantasies you play a part in and you’ll play them out exactly as he desires for your own wellbeing, lest the entire devildom see pictures of you naked.

taking the metal zip between your teeth, you pull it down. the button is more difficult to undo but you get there in the end despite mammon cackling at your struggle. next, you bite the fabric before dragging it down his thighs.

the sheer size of his cock amazes you and the ghost of it fills you up just by looking at it. your body is begging for him to be inside you, and you pray he’ll never find out. he ushers you to keep going and in the same way, you pull down his boxers, looking him dead in the eyes as you drag them down with your teeth.

he hisses as his cock is freed, letting it bounce as it twitches to life. cum oozes from his tip and you mindlessly lick your lips.

“suck it.” he says and reluctantly, you inch forward, taking his tip between your lips. your tongue swipes over it, tasting his cum that you can only describe as the only substance you’ll need to survive on from now on.

“fuck,” he groans. “your slutty mouth feels so fucking good.”

your pussy throbs each and every time he calls you a slut no matter how much you hate it and he inspires you to take him deeper in your mouth in hopes of him calling you it again. his fat cock fills your cheeks and you move back and forth, tongue running along his shaft.

he’s thick and hard, too big to fit in your mouth and you can only imagine the size of it tearing your pussy walls apart when he finally finds his home in there.

“ya looked so fucking hot in those shorts,” he grunts. “bet ya loved every minute of it, strutting around like a slut.”

“i’m not,” you mumble around his cock. “i’m not a slut.”

mammon scoffs, somehow able to understand your muffled words while his cock sits heavy in your mouth. he tuts as you pull back, drenching his cock in your saliva. “don’t lie to me, sweetheart. i know what a dirty little slut ya.”

“no…”

“every demon in that hallway was looking at ya and all i could smell was your sweet pussy leaking for me. bet they could all smell it too. bet they wanted ya as bad as i do.”

mammon….wants you?

now, that’s not something you ever thought of being a possibility. but as the words slip from his lips, your lower body heats up even more. there is so much desperation growing between your legs and you can’t hold back.

your nimble fingers find their way between your legs and mammon uses his foot to lift up your skirt and peek at the dirty things you do to yourself underneath it. god, your eyes are just so needy for him as he watches your fingers push in and out of your pussy.

the only thing blocking his view are the panties you pulled to the side and he orders you to take them off. it pains you to obey him again but the ache in your belly hurts so much more. if you listen to him well enough, maybe he’ll fill you up and finally put your body at ease.

after all that’s happened, the only thing you want right now is his fat cock stuffing you to the hilt instead of your amateur fingers which do not dare to match the level of pleasure mammon’s cock can give you.

swallowing bitterly, you gently place your soaked panties in the hand he holds out, feeling your arousal drip down your thighs already.

“you’re such a naughty girl, getting wet like this,” he teases, rubbing his thumb over the soggy patch on your panties. “so fucking bad.”

“i’m not!” you move away from him completely and plead on your knees. “i’m good, i’ve been nothing but good to you and you treat me so horribly!”

mammon supposes he should feel bad seeing you cry, but your cute little sniffles and the way your teary eyes look up at him through sodden lashes, well, it does make him feel bad….for what he’s about to do to you.

“aww, baby,” his hand snakes his hand under your chin. your skin burns from the way his fingers feel so right around your neck. his touch is gentle, guiding you up onto your feet and your knees are so weak that you begrudgingly lean on him for support. “i didn’t mean to make ya cry.”

his voice is soft as he feigns a pout while spouting such a lie. making you cry is a reward for mammon. you wouldn’t be surprised if he was getting off on this.

“what did i do to deserve this?” you whimper.

“oh darlin’” he kisses your cheek, nuzzling into your neck. the softness in his voice is foreign, and the gentle graze of his lips teasing your skin is addicting. “do you want me to stop?”

“huh?”

“want me to stop being mean to ya?”

freeing himself from the intoxicating scent of your pulse, he holds his face close to you with a hand on either side of yours, thumbs stroking your hot cheeks and wiping away tears. a sick feeling builds in your stomach, but a desperate, needy ache grows faster and stronger.

and as loud as they both are, you can only listen to one bodily instinct at a time.

nodding slowly, you don’t tear your eyes away from his hoping he will see how pathetic and miserable and desperate you are. you’d do anything if it means he’ll stop harassing you.

mammon’s wide smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes and he leans in, surprising you when his lips touch yours. your eyes grow to an abstractly large size and you don’t dare to move as he glides his lips against yours.

one arm wraps around your waist, pulling you flush against him and his cock presses into your tummy while the other snakes around your shoulders, grabbing your scalp and holding your head in place. despite your best efforts to push him away, you remain with your lips locked onto his.

they’re both hot and cold at the same time, both gentle and destructive. all of your walls break down as he pries your sorry lips apart, swiping his tongue along them before devouring your mouth whole.

you moan and gasp against him, beating his chest with your fists but he refuses to let you go and to your dismay — or delight, you can’t quite tell — his hips begin moving. he grinds into your body, rubbing his bare cock along your tummy and leaving cum stains on your clothes.

every alarm in your body rings loudly and you lose the ability to breathe. your mind fogs up from the lack of air but you’re sure he’s doing this on purpose, not allowing you a single ounce of it and if one manages to slip past your lips, he steals it right away.

you know how he works. what mammon wants, mammon gets and while he deprives you of oxygen, he’s waiting for you to give in.

he forces his tongue deep in your mouth but the feel of it is new and draws out a deeper beast within you, greed and excitement growing in your core. while his cock ruts against you, your hands find it and you slowly stroke him, spreading his pre–cum along his length.

“that’s it. keep doing that,” he groans, lips only inches apart. “good girl.”

a whimper escapes you as the words roll of his tongue and your pussy erupts in sparks.

“what’s that, huh? you like it when i call you good girl?” biting your lip, you nod eagerly, earning another proud smile from him. “hm, maybe i should keep calling ya it. but then again, you’re nothing but a worthless slut.”

mammon grabs a fistful of your hair and pushes you to the cold, hard ground. before you can wiggle away, he has you locked in place with your arms pinned down at the sides and your legs stretched on either side of his hips.

“mammon!” you yelp. “please, no….”

“dontcha ya want me to stop being mean to ya?” he questions, eyes filled with madness as he yanks down your bra and gropes your breasts. holding you in place as you writhe against him, mammon leans down and takes your nipple between his lips. “i’ll stop if you let me fuck your sweet little pussy. it’s a good deal, ain’t it?”

it’s the most horrific deal you’ve ever heard but you’re beyond reasoning at this point. the two things you desire most — for him to fuck you dumb on his cock and for him to stop bullying you — he can give to you right now. there’s no harm in killing two birds with one stone, right? if he’s going to be mean about it, you’ve no choice but to take it given it’s the only chance you’ll ever have to free yourself from him.

“fuck, your tits are so sweet.” he can’t stop playing with them, squeezing them, slapping them and marvelling at the way they jiggle, then pinching your nipples and pulling them taught before releasing them and taking them in his mouth again.

“ah!” you moan. “mammon, don’t…” but the warmth of his lips is welcomed by your body and you arch into him.

burying his face into your breasts, he sucks and bites for what feels like hours, covering your mounds with bruises and when he rises with a gasp, his lips are covered in his saliva. his mini–makeout session with your breasts makes every hair on your body stand tall, all the while, your pussy leaks onto the ground beneath you.

mammon grabs both of your breasts, blessing each of his hands with their softness and rubs his cock head over your puffy lips.

“fucking sugar tits, alright,” he jokes. “ya like it when i call ya that?”

you shake your head violently but the truth is, you haven’t stopped thinking about it since he called you it earlier. it’s such a ridiculous name, so degrading and obscene. yet, your hole clenches over nothing when he calls you it.

“that’s right, sugar tits. i can feel your pussy throbbing against me.” mammon warns. “you’re gonna cum while i call ya sugar tits, ain’t ya?”

shaking your head again, you cry no’s and stop’s but each of them fly past his ears. but a guttural feeling deep down knows you’re glad he won’t listen. your pussy aches for his cock to fill you up, for your name to roll off his lips while he fucks his cum far into your pussy.

“you want this, don’t ya?”

“no,” you sob.

“don’t lie to me, bitch. you know you want it.”

“i don’t!”

oh, but you do.

you want this more than anything but you’d rather him not know because it would only give him more fuel to ruin you with.

“yes, you fucking do,” he forces the answer for you. his grabs his cock and prods it against your hole. it’s so wet and slippery that he almost falls deep inside but he’s using the last remainders of his control to hear you say the words he’s wanted to hear for so long. “you fucking want this. tell me you want this.”

you whine. struggling against him but he pushes you down with his ungodly strength.

“say it or i’ll post the fucking pictures.”

“i want it!” you yelp, the words blurting out against your will. “please, mammon. i want it!”

“that’s what i fucking thought.”

and with that, mammon pushes himself past your hole, his leaking tip digging its way into your pussy. your legs fly in the air as you feel him stretch your walls unbelievably wide.

“fuck! mammon!”

“your pussy’s sucking me in, baby,” he grunts with each thrust. “i knew ya wanted my cock this bad.”

with each rock of his hips, your body drags against the ground and he pins you down in place again, arms at your side and body spread wide for him. his eyes latch onto your tits bouncing with every thrust.

they mesmerise him, the way they knock up and down with each hard thrust acting as hypnosis for the demon and he grows desperate for release.

“fuck, sugar tits,” you clench at the pet name. it’s so humiliating but it feels so fucking good, as good as his cock battering your insides. “such a fucking slut enjoying my cock like this.”

he spits insult after insult, mocking you for your weakness against him. “nothin’ but a dirty little human desperate for some demon cock, huh? bet that’s why ya let me fuck around with ya for so long, because ya wanted this to happen, wanted me to fill your tiny little hole with my cum. isn’t that right?”

“no,” you shake your head, but you’re quickly met with his hands gripping your face harshly. “i mean, yes! yes i wanted this!”

“keep going….” he ruts harder, knocking your insides in the right way.

“i wanted this for so long, mammon!” you cry. “wanted your cock so bad i let you treat me like dirt all this time!”

“that’s right,” mammon groans. “i’m always fucking right about ya. nothin’ but a slutty little hole for me. gonna fucking breed ya with all of my cum, and no one’s ever gonna touch ya but me.”

“oh!” you moan, relishing in the words spilling from his lips. you know he doesn’t mean anything special by it, but you’re so blissed out from his cock that for a moment, it feels real. you’re his and his only in the empty classroom and you feel….special. “mammon, it’s so good!”

“yeah? my cock’s making ya feel good?”

“yes!”

“fucking hell, sugar tits loves my cock,” he yells for the whole school to hear, laughing at your the way your pussy tightens when he says it. “go on, you say it too.”

“huh?” you whine.

“fucking say it, scream it. need the whole fucking devildom to here ya being a slut for me.”

“but—”

“say it, angel. or ya don’t get to cum,” he grins seeing the desperation in your eyes, so obedient to him just for an orgasm. how much more pathetic can you get? “go on, be a good girl and say it.”

“i….i love mammon’s cock….”

“louder.”

“i love mammon’s cock,” you repeat but he still isn’t satisfied. he thrusts into you particularly harshly, a yelp escaping your lips and you hear his message loud and clear, screaming, “i love the great mammon’s cock!”

“that’s right, sugar tits,” he leans down. “ya gonna cum now?”

you nod fervently, desperate for release. his cock drags along your clenching walls, awakening the hidden sweet spots as your nectar leaks around him. “wanna cum! please!”

“go ahead, baby,” he ruts with a deep groan, coming close to the edge himself. “i’m gonna finish inside your filthy little pussy.”

“hhm,” you moan. “you shouldn’t!”

“but i’m gonna anyway.”

all it takes as one more thrust to feel ropes of mammon’s hot cum spurting out into your pussy. his thumb finds your clit and pinches it, pulls it, then circles it roughly while pushing his cum deeper inside you with his cock. seconds later, ecstasy washes over you and your body loses control, spasming against his cock as you arch deeper into it. your walls are painted white with his cum and his cocks remains sheathed in your pussy as you writhe through your prolonged orgasm.

“fuck!” you squeal. “it feels so fucking good!”

“holy shit,” mammon groans, hissing when he finally pulls out from your hot mess of a pussy. “that was fucking amazing, huh?”

he falls back, watching your body twitch and tremble and his cum pours out from between your legs, giving him the perfect idea. he reaches for his ddd and opens the camera, facing it towards your blissed the fuck out body.

“hey, sugar tits,” you look at him, haunted by the sick grin on his face. “smile for the camera.”

“wait, mammon—”

“shaddup,” he mumbles and seconds later, several snaps of his camera sound. you yelp, covering your chest and closing your legs in a weak attempt. but mammon’s strength is far to superior to yours and he yanks your legs back open. “i gotcha now, angel.”

“what…?”

he snaps several more pictures and even a short film of his cum gushing out of your pussy. “fuck, i could sell these for some real grimm.”

the way his eyes light up terrifies you and you want nothing more than to curl up into a ball and cease to exist. if he did, your life in the devildom would truly be over. you’d have no dignity remaining from what little of it was left anyway.

“you said you’s stop!” you cry. “you promised you wouldn’t mess with me anymore if i let you fuck me!”

“ya didn’t actually believe that, did ya?”

the world comes crashing down on your heavy, aching body and you’re overcome with violent sobbing. all hope is lost; there’s nothing good left for you now. mammon has made sure of that.

“why? why are you doing this to me?”

“because you’re nothing but a worthless slut. but you’re fun to play with, i’ll give ya that.”

every nerve on your body aches with humiliation. and what’s worse is knowing mammon gets off to it every single time.

how could you ever think you would mean something to him? you know your place full and well yet you still strived to be something more to him, when in reality, all you are is a toy for him to play with, a pathetic human designed for him to ruin in every way.

“p-please….” you sob. “please don’t tell anyone.

“that’s right, angel. you better do everything i say from now on, or else the entire fucking devildom is gonna know how much of a greedy slut ya are. fuck, ya were so fucking desperate for me to breed ya.”

your heart collapses into your stomach; you were a fool to ever believe him. his words and his touches twisted their way into your core and you gave into your sickly attraction to him. but what’s done is done and the best you can do now is some damage control.

“y–you won’t show the pictures to anyone….right?”

mammon scoffs with his devilish grin refusing to leave his face. your skin tingles as he glares at you. despite his terrible attention span and low grades, mammon is smart when he wants to be and smart he is by hacking away at all of your strength, leaving you with nothing but weakness and in the position he’s been wanting you in since the beginning.

“i won’t….for a price,” he grins. “what are ya willing to do to stop me from showing ‘em?”

with one question spilling from his lips, your mind shatters upon the realisation that your existence is now in his hands. you swallow, giving up on all of your pride and courage and hoping desperation will help you. and you really hope it will because that’s all you have left.

“anything. i’ll do anything.”

“good,” his eyes are dark like deep water as he leans over you again, engulfing your pitiful body in his scent. your heart races, tears soaking your eyes as you officially sign away your life to him. “because from now on, you’re the great mammon’s personal slut.”

#♡ pearl’s writing #obey me x reader #obey me #obey me smut #mammon x reader #obey me mammon #obey me shall we date #obey me mammon smut #obey me x reader smut #obey me x female reader #tw: dark content

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romiyaro · 1 year

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ᴘʀᴀɴᴋ #3 "ꜱᴇɴᴅɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇᴍ ɴᴜᴅᴇꜱ" !!!

CW: nudes¡ suggestive language¡ mentions of sex¡

Pairing: (all post timeskip) suna, atsumu, osamu, ginjima x gn!reader

Network: @tokyometronetwork

ꜱᴜɴᴀ ʀɪɴᴛᴀʀᴏ

Guaranteed returns. All favors are returned x1000.

Send him a partial nude and you will get a dick pic within 3 milliseconds. Send him a thirst trap and an audio capture of him moaning your name is sent back.

Suna prides himself on his ability to collect quality material, so it's no surprise he's so very enthusiastic about this nudes exchange business.

Has pretty lights set up around his room just for the sake of clicking aesthetic dick pics.

There's even a special folder on his desktop dedicated to you. All these frisky pics and videos are stored there. He even names it his 'personal pornhub'

Comes home with hundreds of nasty fantasies filled in his head. Trust me he's created a very nice simulation of all the things he'd love to do to you.

ᴍɪʏᴀ ᴀᴛꜱᴜᴍᴜ

You just know this motherfucker is choking on his spit every time you send a pic that's even closely revealing.

This one time you send him a suggestive (only to dirty minded people) picture of your newly done nails holding your glass just for fun and next day videos of Miya Atsumu, star athlete clumsily fumbling with his phone are trending on the internet.

I'm really really sorry for this one but he totally responds in Adam Levine style😭😭😭 he's embarrassing you know it but you love him and that shitty replying style is something you and him have to work on.

He comes home all needy and whiny after that. Needs all the love and affection— much much more than usual.

He might not admit it but every time his phone pings and it's a message from you he pulls in a deep breath to stabilize his heart and be ready.

Atsumu is too much of an innocent boy for that cocky front he puts up.

ᴍɪʏᴀ ᴏꜱᴀᴍᴜ

Now this guy is a totally different story. Unlike his brother, although equally cocky, he has the guts to back it up.

You once sent him a nude while on a double dinner date just to see his reaction and this mf looked at the picture and smirked, licking his lip. Never tell him how flustering you found it you'd just be digging your own grave.

He's an observant guy, he knows all your preferences– from the food to the positions, so it's not a huge surprise to you when he sends you detailed, nasty, toe-curling replies.

Lowkey think he could run his own pornblog and we would still follow him like dick hungry bitches.

Sometimes, he would send you unprompted random messages while you are at work. Like sirrrr, you get it. He knows you very well but it's none of his business to ensure you're melting in your chair at work thinking about him.

But that's not all. The real nastiness starts when you return home, or his hotel. This man is filthy. And he's gonna pull you down with him whether you like it or not.

ʜɪᴛᴏꜱʜɪ ɢɪɴᴊɪᴍᴀ

You were sorely mistaken if you thought he was an innocent baby boy who had to be introduced to the art of sending nudes gently💀💀💀

He is the devil. This man laughs at you and calls you weak when you send him a partial nude.

The insult digs deeper when he sends you a beautiful, Pinterest worthy image of his pants pulled down just enough to show his perfect v-line. The sunlight kissing his pretty skin doesn't help either.

This ensues a nudes war. Who can click the better nude.

You both give each other occasional runs for your money. But it's usually him powning you most of the time. This guy has some serious aesthetics.

But the funny thing is, although you both forget the original intention of sending nudes, you both develop a cute and adorable sort of bonding activity out of it.

Lost the taglist so i won't tag anybody and this isn't gonna be a regular writing phase anyways so🙏🙏🙏 also drop some holy water in the comments and reblogs plej i need it I've been thinking very nasty thoughts abt a certain white haired sensei from naruto

#miya atsumu x gn!reader #miya osamu x gn!reader #suna rintaro x gn!reader #hitoshi ginjima x gn!reader #atsumu x reader #atsumu x gn!reader #osamu x reader #osamu x gn!reader #suna x reader #suna x gn!reader #ginjima x reader #ginjima x gn!reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smut #haikyuu suggestive scenarios #haikyuu x gn!reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu fluff

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ao3commentoftheday · 6 months

Note

Hi! I'm asking for advice, please. I'm in a small ship fandom, it's so small that most of us know each other here. Having a small, unpopular ship is not an issue in itself and most of us are okay with that, but the ship gets a lot of hate from the bigger ship fandom. I won't say much about the fandom situation, but I'd love to get more people to write for our ship. It's hard because our authors get a lot of hate reviews and our AO3 tag is a mess because the big ship shippers put their hate stories there all the time. I know there are tools to filter this unwanted content, like OTP:true, but people who don't know AO3 very well have a hard time finding the stories written by the few active authors that we still have. Our stories are not lacking in quality, but they're so scarce that readers get discouraged after a while. A similar thing happens to writers because of this situation with the hate comments and lack of interaction. I know that I can't do much about the hate the ship gets, but I would like some advice to motivate people in our fandom to write and support our writers more. I read, comment, and create as much as I can, but it'd be nice to get fresh ideas about improving this situation, maybe planning fan events and similar stuff. I will gladly welcome any helpful tips if you have them, please! I am aware that creating more content would expose our writers to more hate. I know that, but I also think that it's unfair that people have to refrain from enjoying the things they love just because other people hate it. That's why I'm trying to change things for the better, but I need help.

I'm so sorry your fandom is so awful to your group, anon ❤️ No ship is worth being mean to others over, and especially not worth making an entire group feel unwelcome in a communal space.

I strongly recommend that the authors of your ship restrict comments to logged-in registered users only (you can find this setting in Post a New Work form) and block any commenters who post hate. If anyone circumvents the block, report them to PAC for block evasion. To do so, visit the comment itself (by clicking on the thread button or following the link from the email) and choose Policy Questions & Abuse Reports from the AO3 footer. Don't delete the comment until after PAC have had a chance to read it and investigate.

Now, as for how to encourage more people to create!

It's always worthwhile to celebrate the folks who are already doing the thing. Create recommendation lists and share them around. Write a ship manifesto to encourage people to take a look at the ship if they haven't already. Reach out to fanartists who take requests or commissions and see if they'll make ship art. Get a group of writers together for an exchange.

Bring in new writers by messaging an author who is open to other ships and seeing if they'd be willing to write a oneshot. Post a list of ship-centric prompts and encourage folks to reblog it and fill the prompts. You could even create a prompt meme on AO3.

That's all I can think of off the top of my head, but I'm sure the blog will be able to suggest even more. We're here to support you, anon!

#asks and answers

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braidlottie · 7 months

Text

and i used to believe, no one could love you like i do.

pairing: lottie matthews x gn!reader

summary: having dinner with your estranged mother and girlfriend beside you already sounded like a bad idea to begin with. but like always, your mother still managed to reel you in.

word count: 1.4K

tags: h/c (hurt/comfort), reader has mommy issues, soft!lottie!!!!’!! :((( like very soft and gentle :(, crying, arguing, somewhat happy ending, reader likes spongebob?! possibly self indulgent but everyone can enjoy 🩷

title inspired by voyager by boygenius

also, happy halloween!! 🎃

“you ready, honey?” your girlfriend’s voice bringing you out of your thoughts, her hand ready to ring the doorbell.

“uhh, yeah. i’m just a little nervous.” you wiped the sweat off the back of your neck. you couldn’t figure out why you were sweating in such snowy new york weather. you despised how anxious your mother made you, your heart about to jump out your chest at the sound of her name.

when your mother had called you out of the blue and asked you to have dinner, you were hesitant at first, thinking about the fight that the two of you had last easter that had your family talking for months. but lottie, being the angel she is, came along with you because she knew you needed the support. this isn’t lottie’s first time meeting the woman either. you introduced them to each other a couple months ago when the two of you first got together. your mother thought she was nice, but, she thinks she’s “way too old” for you.

“i got you, baby. i’ll be next to you this whole time, okay?”

*****

“what’s that?”

“um- a cake. i made it for you.” you smiled nervously at your mother, trying to hand it to her. “well, don’t just stand there, put it on the table. dinner’s ready, anyways.”

lottie watched the awkward and somewhat harsh interaction, a smile playing on her lips when she stuck her hand out to your mother.

“lottie, right?” it was your turn to watch this unpleasant exchange between the most important women in your life. “charlotte, actually.” lottie corrected, pursing her lips. it was silent for a while, just the sound of silverware clanging together while you were setting the table.

“hasn’t been giving you any trouble lately, i hope?” you saw your mother look back at you in the corner of your eye and lottie smiled back, trying to keep the mood light. “no, we’re just fine, thank you.”

“mom, i thought dinner was ready-”

“yeah. it is. i was just waiting for you to set the damn table.” she laughed to herself walking into the kitchen for the dish. you sat down with a huff, staring at the painting on the wall across from you. you just wanted it to be over. lottie sat in the chair next to you, taking your hand in hers and kissing it softly.

“okay, let’s eat.”

*****

“the food was fabulous.” lottie finally broke the silence. she wiped her mouth with her napkin, folding it up nicely next to her plate. “did you enjoy it, honey?” lottie put a loving hand on your shoulder. she knew you didn’t. it was spaghetti. you HATED spaghetti. ever since you were a little kid, you always shook your head at it.

you took the last sip of your beer and shrugged. “yeah, it was pretty good.” you spoke in a monotone voice, twirling your fork around in the half eaten noodles. you forced yourself to eat some, not wanting to start another unwanted fight with your mother.

“well, it looks like it wasn’t. you barely ate any of it.” she sipped her wine, shooting you a look. “yeah, because i don’t like spaghetti, mom.”

“what the hell? you loved spaghetti. it was your favorite.”

“no, i only ate it so you wouldn’t say i’m ungrateful, like you always do.”

“yeah! because you are.” your mother dropped her fork in anger, you felt the same when the unexpected sound made lottie jump.

“oh jesus christ-”

“i gave you a roof over your head, food, clothes on your back and shoes on your feet, and you act like this. so yes, that is why i say you’re ungrateful.” the women counted examples on her hand.

“that’s basic things a mother is supposed to do for their child, mom! i just wanted you to-”you clenched your jaw, trying not to let your emotions get the best of you.

“i just wanted you to reason with me. i just want to have a regular relationship with you, but you make it so difficult.”

“you’re the one making it difficult, y/n! you’re dating someone half your age, and no offense to you lottie, but y/n does not need to be in a relationship with you-”

“you can talk about me all you want, but leave my girlfriend out of it. i’m an adult, mom. okay? this is MY relationship, i don’t need any fucking body telling me that it’s wrong! because it’s not! we love each other, and you’re just upset that i’m happy.” you shot up out of your seat. lottie had never seen you so angry, she could’ve swore she saw steam coming out of your ears.

“get the hell out of my house.” your mother stood up now. “NOW. and don’t even think about coming back here without an apology.”

“not this time. i’m so sick of forgiving you and forgiving you and you end up doing the same thing i forgave you for each time.” you walked to the front door, grabbing your coat and beanie. “hope you like the cake.” you slammed the door with all your might, knocking a frame off the wall in the process and hearing it shatter from inside the house. lottie watched you walk back to her car in the blistering cold through the window, not sharing a word with your mother. she just grabbed her belongings and gave her one last look of disapproval. this time, the door was shut with a creek.

*****

lottie turned the heat on full blast, warming up the freezing car at a red light. she knew you were freezing, so was she. “you wanna go get something, sweetheart? a hot chocolate, maybe?” you shook your head and leaned closer to the window, resting your forehead on it. lottie was trying her best to cheer you up, but you just wanted to get home already so you could spend the rest of your night sulking in bed. the older woman sighed and pressed the gas, the green light glowing into the dark car. the snow had started back up, but it was light, making it okay for lottie to drive in.

the silence in the car was so loud, the two of you reliving the moments with your mother, but also trying to forget it at the same time. lottie had finally turned down her street, passing all the cars covered from roof to tire in snow. the car hummed gently as lottie parked it, chiming because she was too close to the curb.

the keys jingled in her hand when she turned off the ignition. “give me a hug, baby.” her voice scratchy, unbuckled your seatbelt, allowing you to crawl over the gear stick and into her lap. she slipped your beanie off, feeling your cold nose on her neck and how you trembled in her touch.

she kissed your temple, all that she was doing made the dam finally break behind your eyes. lottie watched you take a deep inhale, your face crumpling up and a sob fall from your mouth. “oh, my angel…” she trailed, just letting you cry it out.

lottie never wanted to say it in front of you, but she hated your mother. she hated the way she treated you. she didn’t even think you were her child because of how kind and caring you were. the two of you were the exact opposite. snow covered the windshield, your sobs muffled in lottie’s coat. you took your head out for some air, turning away from lottie. you looked into the gray night sky, resting your throbbing head on lottie’s shoulder. “i’m sorry.” you sniffled.

“don’t you dare ever apologize for something like that, you hear me? look at me,” she held you up by your arms, looking straight into your sad little eyes. “none of that was your fault, honey.” lottie wiped your cheeks, almost wanting to cry as well. you mirrored her nodded and she pulled you in for another hug. “let’s get inside and warm up, and i’ll put on a movie, okay? what do you wanna watch, darling?” the two of you got out of the car, your wet cheeks already freezing from the cold. “..spongebob.” mist came from your mouth, and did the same to lottie, when she chuckled lovingly at your answer.

“spongebob it is. let’s go sweetheart.” she held your hand, walking up the front yard to the door, kissing you reassuringly before you went in.

#yellowjackets #yellowjackets x reader #lottie matthews x reader #lottie matthews #lottie matthews fluff #lottie yellowjackets #adult lottie #lottie x reader

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sarahowritesostucky · 2 months

Text

📖"Temporary Custody"

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Steve x ofc x Bucky; Steve x Bucky

Word Count: 5461

Tags: Dom/sub, bdsm au, dom Bucky, sub reader, hurt/comfort, enemies to lovers, gay sex'n'stuff, straight sex'n'stuff, Steve being a literal Golden Retriever, mental health issues, dub-con, forced submission, referenced childhood abuse and resultant mental health issues, bakery au, m/f/m, gentle domination, total power exchange

Summary: The stigma and shame of being a submissive has kept Mary unfulfilled and in the closet her whole life, until an inciting incident leads to Bucky and Steve taking her in and giving her everything she was always too afraid to ask for.

Trigger warnings: This story contains themes of eating disordered behavior, body image issues, childhood abuse, self-harm, and alcohol abuse.

Wait! I haven't read an earlier chapter of this fic! Story Masterpost

9. Honey-mascarpone crêpes

A.N. : Disappeared by my staff troll without notice or reason other than that she abuses her privileges at the company. Complaint email sent, and it's back up now.

Bucky

Once Steve talks him off the cliff of domspace (not the good kind), Bucky's able to calm down and see things more rationally.

First off, he stops being mad at Mary. He has to remember that she's going through right now what he went through as a kid. She's dealing with the loss of her freedom, shifting self-perception, horribly unbalanced (probably) neurotransmitters, and the complete—if temporary—restructuring of her life. Sure, she's bratting, but subs brat as a coping mechanism, and Bucky knows he needs to be a good dom for her, not an overreacting hothead. He can do that. He can totally do that.

(Having Steve around certainly helps, though.)

Mary is clearly surprised when he gets home from work and doesn't immediately set in to scolding her. But Steve was right: they have to wait to get a discipline plan in place. Mary might have a good sense of what'll piss Bucky off, but they've never explicitly sat down and defined the rules, their roles, or the consequences for misbehavior.

So Bucky just acts neutrally that evening and they eat dinner together and relax in front of the tv until bedtime. Mary seems to expect him to do something, punish her somehow. The thing is, he should. It's what's good and healthy for her. Bucky knows submissives very well, is very attuned to them, so he's sure that Mary's actually aching for a little correction by the time he and Steve calmly bid her goodnight and head off to their own bedroom. Bucky wishes he could give her what she needs, but he consoles himself with the fact that soon he'll be able to.

The next morning, Steve and Mary are both quiet. Bucky doesn't think too much about it. When he gets out to the kitchen, Steve informs him that they have an appointment at the Center that evening, and Mary pushes a plate of crêpes at him without meeting his eyes and then turns away.

"What's this?" Bucky asks, picking up his fork and prodding at the—frankly, delicious-looking—pile of folded cakes. He takes a bite and his eyes slip closed momentarily as he forces himself not to moan. When he opens his eyes again, Mary's watching him from over by the sink, biting her lip.

"Stop biting your lip," he says.

She stops.

Bucky gets that nice, warmth-after-whiskey rush in his chest at the obedience. He gets to work in cutting off another bite of the crêpes. "Are these an apology?" he asks, eyebrow arched at her. "For your behavior yesterday?" He puts the bite of crêpe in his mouth and chews, smug about the fact that she's flushing in embarrassment.

"They're crêpes," she mumbles. "With mascarpone and honey."

"Hmm." Bucky nods along and chews, enjoying the flavors while he maintains solid eye contact with her. After he pauses to swallow, he says, "Apology crêpes, then. Good girl. Apology accepted."

She doesn't say anything back to that, just gets pink in the face at the 'good girl' and whirls around to face the sink and do dishes.

Bucky smirks in satisfaction, then meets Steve's eyes. His husband looks deep in thought, but when Bucky prompts him with a questioning look, Steve just shakes his head and smiles avoidantly. "I already ate mine," he says, then pushes off from the counter. "I'm gonna go grab a shower."

Shrugging, Bucky goes back to eating his apology crêpes. "These are really good, Mare," he says. Over by the sink, he sees her head bob in a little nod. "You okay, Honey?"

She nods again, using the sprayer to rinse a dish. "Do we really have to go?" she complains, almost shyly and in a way that makes Bucky think that maybe his apology crêpes are actually 'please don't take me to go get a blood test' crêpes. "I hate needles."

"Don't be a baby," Bucky chides. "It's one poke and you're done. It's for your own good."

"Ugh."

Steve

On the day after the blood test, Steve glances sideways at his husband to gauge his reaction to the news they’ve just been given. Bucky’s frowning lightly, almost looks like his feelings are hurt. “Babe ...” Steve says softly.

“I don’t understand,” Bucky says, addressing Linda, who’s sitting in the chair across from them, who’s got them alone in her office while Mary is off at some sort of class. This is Bucky and Steve’s time now, to discuss the care of their charge, and Linda’s just told them the results of Mary’s bloodwork. Bucky continues to frown as if insulted. “I’ve been bringing her down every night. Every night. How can that not have made a difference?”

Linda shakes her head. “It has made a difference, but her levels aren’t near what they should be at this point.”

“Levels?” Steve asks.

“Dopamine,”

“Serotonin,”

Linda’s mouth quirks at her and Bucky having spoken over each other. “Both,” she says. “Along with oxytocin. They’re called the ‘happy hormones.’ When people like Bucky or Mary go without treatment, they have an imbalance of them. The further on the spectrum they are, the worse the imbalance tends to be.” She looks back down to her clipboard, which holds Mary’s test results. “She’s not in what I’d call the danger zone anymore, but we should definitely discuss options for how to help improve these levels.” Linda looks up, blinking expectantly at them through her glasses. “So? What all have you been doing during your scenes?”

Bucky tells her, laying out the general gist of what they do during the evenings in their apartment. But when he stops talking, Linda still looks expectant. “So ... there hasn’t been any sex play?”

Steve feels his cheeks heat at the term. He glances over at Bucky, who’s shaking his head.

“She hasn’t initiated, and I haven't wanted to scare her off or make her feel like she has to. They’re always going on about subs’ sexual autonomy these days, you know?”

Linda sighs and uses a finger to push her glasses up the bridge of her nose. “Bucky, that’s admirable, really. But you of all people should know it’s unrealistic.”

“Is it?” Steve asks. Bucky puts a hand on his knee in what feels like a patronizing, 'The adults are speaking, Honey,' and Linda says,

“Sexual domination or submission isn’t necessary for anyone on the spectrum, but it is the most efficient way to get the job done.” She looks at Bucky with a little bit of reproach in her gaze, if Steve is reading her right. “She’d probably have to be dropped three or more times a day, if sex play wasn’t involved.” She looks back and forth between the two of them. “Are you and Steve no longer comfortable with sex outside of your marriage? Because if that’s the case then I really do have to recommend that you allow Mary to attend our socials, so that she can find a partner. Either that or we can schedule her for visits with one of our ProDoms.”

“No,” Bucky says, wasp-quick. “I don’t want her with strangers.”

Steve nods, though he feels like a cad for agreeing.

Linda purses her lips. “Well obviously it’s not the best option, but if the two of you aren’t willing to—”

“We are!” Steve blurts, maybe a little too loudly. He winces and reigns himself in. “Sorry, I just mean …”

Bucky’s metal hand covers his on the couch cushion. “We’re willing to make it sexual,” he says. “But we just don’t know how to … approach it with her, I guess.” Then he adds, “I’ve kissed her. Once. And that went over well. She seems receptive to Steve too.”

Linda nods, writing something down on her clipboard. “That’s good, good. Okay. Well with that in mind, when Mary has her session with me this evening I’ll administer some tests to help her map out what might be most useful for her to go down during sex play.”

Steve fights back a wince. He really wishes Dr. Linda wouldn’t call it that. “Make sure she knows we’re not pressuring her, okay?” he says.

“Of course not,” Linda says. “We’re just presenting all the options.”

Mary

The Center for Designated People is housed in a building in Queens, and it’s made up of a lot of glazed brown brick from the 80’s.

This is the first time Mary’s been anywhere other than Linda’s office or the waiting area immediately outside of it. Come to find, there’s a bit more to the CDP than just therapists’ offices. There are classrooms and conference rooms, and a big social area with game tables and couches and a carpeted amphitheater that reminds her of the student union building back in college.

She’s not entirely sure what she’s supposed to be doing with herself. Everybody else seems to be mingling, comfortable in a way that she herself isn’t. Today’s the second day in a row that she’s had to show up at the CDP, and yesterday kind of left a bad taste in her mouth about it.

Yesterday, they drew her blood to test for neurochemicals. To make sure that she’s getting better, whatever that means. Mary hates needles and she’d resented the hell out of Bucky and Steve when they basically bossed her all the way down to the lab for the draw.

“It’s for your own good.”

God, she's tired of hearing that phrase. Everybody, especially Bucky, seems to think that they know what is for her “own good.” Personally, she thinks that Bucky just gets a thrill out saying the words. She thinks he gets off on it.

(… Never mind that something deep in her belly clenches whenever she hears him say it.)

The results of her tests are back, and they’re “not great” according to Linda—Linda, who’s holed herself up in the office with Bucky and Steve, whilst banishing Mary to a rec room full of other submissives.

They’re having some sort of low key party. Linda had called it a “social.” Bucky didn’t want her to go at first, until he heard that there would only be submissives at the party, no dominants. He’s so possessive, jeez.

There are maybe thirty other people in the room, talking in small groups, looking like they all know each other and are friends. There’s a tv and a foosball table and a bunch of little couches in squared off areas. A couple of people are sitting in the amphitheater playing boardgames, and there’s a table set up with snack foods and a punch bowl. It could almost be any normal social gathering, the only giveaway being that more than a few of the people present are wearing collars.

Like: openly and obviously, as if the collars are just another accessory to their outfits. Mary’s got a feeling that the collars are worn to make a statement, though she can’t for the life of her understand why someone would want to advertise that they’re like this.

She avoids the other people and goes over to the food, picking out a few things to nibble on. She tries to make herself seem busy by focusing on some pamphlets she’d picked up in the lobby outside Linda’s office. There’s one that has a serene picture of three river rocks stacked in a reflective pool of water, and the title reads, “Embracing Submission.” Mary rolls her eyes and tosses it aside.

She pulls out the pocket copy of the DSM V that Linda had reluctantly handed over (“It’s very clinical language. Don’t read too much into it.”), and searches out the section on Submissive Personality Disorder.

Personality disorders (PD) are a class of mental disorders characterized by enduring maladaptive patterns of behavior, cognition, and inner experience, exhibited across many contexts and deviating from those accepted by the individual's culture. These patterns develop early, are inflexible, and are associated with significant distress or disability. Cluster C (anxious or fearful disorders): Avoidant Personality Disorder, Obsessive-compulsive Personality Disorder, Dominant Personality Disorder, Submissive Personality Disorder. Submissive Personality Disorder (SPD) is a personality disorder that is characterized by a pervasive psychological dependence on and deference towards other people; especially to those who are oriented towards a dominant personality, or “Dominant Personality Disorder” (DPD). SPD is a long-term condition[1] in which people depend on others to meet their emotional and physical needs, with only a minority achieving normal levels of independence. SPD is a Cluster C personality disorder[2], characterized by excessive fear and anxiety. Typically beginning in early adolescence, it is present in a variety of contexts and is associated with inadequate functioning. Symptoms can include anything from extreme passivity, devastation, or helplessness when relationships end, to avoidance of responsibilities and severe submission. Manifestations may include: Cognitive: a perception of oneself as powerless and ineffectual, coupled with the belief that other people are comparatively powerful and potent. Motivational: a desire to obtain and maintain relationships with protectors and caregivers. Behavioral: a pattern of relationship-facilitating behavior designed to strengthen interpersonal ties and minimize the possibility of abandonment and rejection. Emotional: fear of abandonment, fear of rejection, and anxiety regarding evaluation by figures of authority.[8] Diagnostic Criteria: A diagnosis of Submissive Personality Disorder is indicated when five or more of the following criteria are met:

🟣Has difficulty making everyday decisions without an excessive amount of advice and reassurance from a Dom. 🟣Needs a Dom to assume responsibility for most major areas of their life. 🟣Has difficulty expressing disagreement with others because of fear of loss of support or approval. 🟣Has difficulty initiating projects or doing things on their own (because of a lack of self confidence in judgment or abilities rather than a lack of motivation or energy). 🟣Goes to excessive lengths to obtain nurturance and support from Doms, to the point of volunteering to do things that are unpleasant. 🟣Feels uncomfortable or helpless when alone because of exaggerated fears of being unable to care for themselves. 🟣Urgently seeks another relationship as a source of care and support when a close relationship ends. 🟣Is unrealistically preoccupied with fears of being left to take care of themselves.[11] *As of December, 1998, the additional criteria of neurochemical imbalance has been added by the American Psychiatric Association.

Christ.

Mary’s not stupid, she can see where she fits into some (maybe most) of those categories. And nearly every line makes her want to throw the book across the room. She doesn’t like the picture it paints of someone like her, not at all. For lack of a better word, it's pathetic. So she pulls out her phone and looks up the Wikipedia page instead.

The World Health Organization (WHO) has isolated nine defining emotional and social attributes of those suffering from Submissive Personality Disorder (SPD):

🟣Tends to become attached quickly and/or intensely, developing feelings and expectations that are not warranted by the history or context of the relationship. 🟣Due to a tendency to be ingratiating and submissive, is likely to enter into relationships in which they are emotionally or physically abused, or “dominated.” 🟣Tends to feel ashamed, inadequate, and depressed. Is highly suggestible. 🟣Reacts to force or dominance from others with periods of mild derealization, or “submissive fugue.” 🟣Engages in passive-aggressive reactions to social interaction. 🟣Has difficulty acknowledging and expressing anger, struggles to get their own needs and goals met. 🟣Has an inability to soothe or comfort themself when distressed, they require involvement of a Dom to help regulate their emotions.[10] 🟣Displays a marked positive reaction to physical touch and affection, especially to the neck and head.

Well. That’s not exactly an easy pill to swallow. Mary fits almost every one of those qualities, if she’s really being honest with herself. But reading about it all clinical like that leaves a sour feeling in her stomach. Dr. Linda was right: she shouldn’t have read up on it. She shoves her phone back in her bag and returns to the refreshments table. She’s just finished ladling out a cup of punch for herself when a wry voice says,

“Careful. Last few socials, that’s gotten spiked.”

Mary turns. The voice belongs to a young woman. Maybe Mary’s own age, or a bit younger. She’s got that Seattle hipster look, with long dark hair crammed under a beanie, wide rimmed glasses, and an overlarge sweater with holes in the sleeves. She’s giving Mary a friendly look, though. “You’re new.” She states it, doesn’t ask, then holds out her hand. “I’m Darcy.”

Mary shakes her hand, pulling back as soon as can be considered polite. “Hi. Mary.”

Darcy smiles. She looks over her shoulder at the room full of people, then turns back with an apologetic expression. “Don't worry. It can be weird when you’re new. But it’s pretty easy to make friends around here.”

Mary tries not to make a face at the way Darcy talks about it—like this is some sort of club that she’s expected to join. “This is, um … I’m just waiting here while my friends see a therapist.”

Darcy boldly takes the punch glass right out of Mary's hand and sips from it. She looks thoughtful for a second, then nods and hands the cup back. “Yep, it’s fine,” she says. “Usually Scott’s the culprit, I think. And he’s not here today, so.”

Mary blinks down at the cup, wondering who Scott is. “Um …”

“So what brought you in?” Darcy asks. “TDO, or just curious?”

“TD-what?”

“Oh, you know: cops, the psych ward, all that good stuff.” She waves her hand, like this is a common thing and not something to balk at, like half the room’s occupants have gone through cops and psych wards.

Mary’s eyes flick back around at a few of the people nearby. Maybe they have, she thinks. Hell, it’s not like Mary herself wasn’t handcuffed to a hospital bed less than a month ago. The only reason a visit to the psych ward didn’t happen to her was because Bucky and Steve stepped in to help. She frowns as she thinks about how differently it could’ve gone.

“Sorry,” Darcy says, looking sheepish. “That’s kinda heavy, I guess. I tend to just say things.”

“No, you’re okay.”

“I saw you over here making friends with the vegetables and thought I’d butt in,” she says. She leans over and grabs a celery stick, dips it liberally in what looks like ranch dressing, before stuffing it in her mouth.

Mary wonders if it’s her own way of shutting herself up. “Really, it’s fine. I didn’t have anybody to talk to. I don’t mind.” She tries to offer a smile that doesn’t come across as forced or strained, but isn’t sure she manages. Wasn’t there a time when she had friends? It feels like a lifetime ago. In a weak attempt to seem receptive, she lifts her punch glass and takes a big sip, smiling over the rim.

Darcy tips her head. “Come on. Let’s grab some of the good chairs before they’re all gone.” They settle into a pair of very worn but very comfortable chairs, and Mary resists the urge to tuck her legs up underneath herself. Darcy, however, leans back and props her feet on the coffee table like she’s right at home . “So I take it you’re a TDO, then,” she says.

“I don’t know what that stands for.”

“Temporary detainment order. When they haul you off and force treatment.”

“Oh.” Mary squirms, hating to remember that night and how embarrassing she’d been. In front of Bucky, Steve, even the cop. Ugh, it’s so cringe. “Erm, yeah,” she mutters. “Basically.”

Darcy nods along, unfazed. “Yeah I went through all that, too. Couple’a years ago. It was fucked. Trust me, I did not want to be here at first. The courts made me come. Sent me with a social worker to make sure I didn't skip out, the whole nine yards.” She makes a face that looks just like how Mary feels when thinking about her own night in the ER. “God, it was so cringe.”

Mary stiffens at hearing her own thoughts reflected almost word for word. “But now?” she asks, eyes flicking down to the collar Darcy’s got on. “You still come here?”

“Oh yeah! This place is the shit. I love it.” Darcy grins and thumbs over her shoulder at the area where the foosball table is. “Tall lanky guy, taking it way too seriously? That’s Ian. He’s my sister wife.”

Mary nearly chokes on her punch. “Your what?”

“He and I share the same Dom.”

Mary blinks, working that one out in her head. “So … you’re a throuple?” Is that a usual thing with these people? she wonders. (… Could she be in a throuple with Bucky and Steve?)

“No, Ian’s my boyfriend. But he’s a sub too, so we come here to get services from Thor.”

Mary’s eyebrows rise. “Thor?”

“Yeah I know. Weird name, right? He looks it, too. You should see him. He’s this huge blond guy, accent. I think he’s actually from Norway. Or something. Wherever the Vikings were from.”

“So you …” Mary tries to parse out what she wants to ask. “You pay to have sex with him?”

Darcy pauses and looks at her strangely. “No,” she says slowly. “Insurance covers it. He just Doms us. You know, like helps us with our weekly drops? There’s no sex.” She laughs. “Dude. Only, like, extreme cases need that.”

Mary knows she’s blushing now. “Oh. Sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude.” She bites her lip and tentatively asks, “But you said you see him weekly?”

“Yeah. Once a week. Usually Fridays.”

“... But like, at home? You don’t have other stuff?”

Darcy frowns. “What other stuff?”

“Like … like dropping,” Mary whispers, like it’s a bad word. “You’re saying you only do that once a week?”

“Yeah, usually. I mean unless we’ve got some really stressful shit going on. Like, when it was my finals week? I booked Thor three times that week.” She huffs like that’s a preposterous amount of times. “But other than that, yeah, once usually tides us over. That’s pretty standard.”

Mary squirms uncomfortably as she thinks about the nightly ritual she has with Bucky and Steve. “Oh.” She says quietly, because what else is she supposed to say? She wishes she could leave to go process this, maybe ask Linda about it. Because what Darcy’s just said does not match up with her own experiences, and it’s kind of jarring—no, scratch that, it’s definitely jarring. Sure, theoretically Mary already knew that she’d been labeled as a “high needs” submissive, but she hadn’t realized how different it was. Other subs only need to get dropped once a week? And according to Darcy, there’s not ever sex involved? Dr. Linda keeps insisting that Mary needs a sexual dynamic.

‘Only extreme cases need that’—Darcy’s words ring in her ears, making her super self-conscious. She’s extreme. She must be. How embarrassing.

“Hey, you okay?” Darcy tilts her head in concern. “What’d I say?”

“N-nothing,” Mary hurries to compose herself. “I was just thinking, that’s all. I’m still so new to all of this.” She tries to think of something to say to change the topic. “Ahm, so … Thor. He’s like a therapist, then? Here at the center?”

“He’s a ProDom,” Darcy corrects. “Which is kinda like a therapist I guess, but not like the actual shrinks they have here. The Pros get paid to help us with our drops. And highs,” she adds belatedly. “The ProSubs do that, I mean.”

Mary blinks at the idea that there are also professional submissive services for dominants. Has Bucky ever …?

“And they teach classes here too. Ohmygosh!” Darcy’s face lights up and Mary instinctively shrinks back at the enthusiasm. “You should totally sign up for some.”

“Classes?” Mary says, sure that her tone is showing how much she doesn’t want to do that.

“Yeah! Oh my gosh it is the best way to meet people, and the classes are actually pretty fun. It’s how I met Ian. And they definitely saved my ass back when I was new. Hey, I’ll help you pick some out!”

Mary flounders, not wanting to be insulting but also really, really not into the idea of coming back to the CDP any more than Bucky forces her to. “Um I’m kinda busy with …”

“Mare.”

She inhales sharply at the sound of Bucky’s voice. She turns around in her seat and she sees him and Steve coming over. Her shoulders sag with relief. Saved by the bell. “Hey guys,” she chirps, sitting up straighter. Is it time to go?” She starts to get up from her seat and shoot an apology Darcy’s way. “Hey, it’s been nice meeting you but I guess I have to—”

“Are these your Doms?” Darcy asks, looking wide eyed at Steve and Bucky. “Wow.” The look on her face might as well read: hubba hubba. “Um. Well done, girl.”

Mary huffs. “I didn’t pick them.”

Before Darcy can respond to that, Bucky’s coming closer (and Steve by extension because—living in each other’s skin, and whatnot). Bucky looks pleased. “Making friends?” he asks Mary.

What is she supposed to say? ‘Not if I can help it’? She shrugs in answer. Darcy, unfortunately, presses the issue of the classes to Bucky.

“I told her she should sign up for some.”

“Really, I don’t think—”

“Sounds like a good idea to me,” Bucky says, cutting Mary off. He glances to Steve, who shrugs like a big dummy. “I don’t know what they offer these days,” Bucky says. “It’s been a hot minute since I took a class here. What do they have for subs?” He’s asking Darcy, who unfortunately is very helpful and replies,

“I’m coteaching one this winter! It’s a four week course on recognizing Drop. Knowing the signs of deprivation to look for, self care, that kind of thing.”

“Really,” Mary tries again. “I don’t need to—”

“Mary,” Bucky says, and his voice has changed to that calm, firm register that he uses when he’s being really serious about controlling her. His “Dom” voice. That’s what Steve calls it. Mary swallows at the way he's looking at her now. He puts his hand on her shoulder, and it’s not the metal one but the simple presence of it there still feels like a hundred pounds. “I want you to go to the class with Darcy. You’ll learn a lot.”

“I don’t want to,” she snaps quietly. “I have work.”

“Your boss knows about your condition,” he says, infuriatingly calm.

“Yeah, because you told him!” Talk about mortifying.

Bucky’s fingers squeeze her shoulder lightly. “Hush. If the classes interfere with work, you can get your shift changed for that day.”

“They’re evening classes. On Wednesdays,” Darcy supplies.

“Perfect! She never works evenings.” Bucky releases Mary’s shoulder and nods like this makes it final. “My email’s in the database,” he tells Darcy. “Barnes. B-A-R-N-E-S. Can you email me the info?”

“Sure!” Darcy looks thrilled. She shoots Mary a saucy wink. “Thor’s the co-teacher, so you’ll get to meet him. We use him as our practice Dom.”

“Huh?” Mary says, just as Bucky says,

“Thor?” and tenses up by her side. “The Pro?”

Darcy grins, oblivious to Bucky’s stiffening posture. “Yeah! He’s who we practice with. Kind of like in a self-defense class how there’s the big guy you practice kicking in the nuts and whatnot? Thor’s our guy. Except we don't, you know, kick him in the nuts or anything. He drops us. For practice.”

Bucky’s entire attitude has changed since the mention of Thor being involved. Mary watches his expression darken and she delights a little bit in the opportunity to rile him up. “… Yeah,” she says slowly, as if the idea is now coming around on her. “Yeah I think I will go to the classes.” She peeks up at Bucky and sees him pressing his lips into a tight line. Mary grins. “Thanks Darcy. Email Bucky the info and I’ll be there. Should be fun! Can’t wait to meet Thor.”

Darcy nods and smiles brilliantly and bids them all goodbye, and then Mary walks out of the room with Steve and Bucky by her side. She feels smug, and is just waiting for Bucky to start complaining.

“Babe …” Steve says quietly, speaking to Bucky. He takes Bucky’s hand in his as they walk, and Mary watches the two of them have one of their freaky weird silent conversations. It ends when Bucky gives an unhappy grunt, but whatever matter they’d discussed (herself, Mary assumes), seems settled.

“You can take the class,” Bucky says, sounding none too happy about it.

Mary smirks haughtily. “I thought you wanted me to in the first place?”

Bucky says nothing. Mary remains smug.

She stops being smug when it’s her turn in Linda’s office, and she’s just been told the results of her bloodwork.

“So … I have to?” she says, voice tiny. “With them?”

“Bucky and Steve? No, not necessarily,” Linda says, sitting up straighter. “Who you have sex with is your choice, Mary. You have options.”

Mary glances back at the door, as if Bucky’s on the other side with his ear pressed up against the crack. She wouldn’t put it past him. “Can’t we just keep doing it the way we have been?” she asks. She thinks about how Darcy had made a weird face and said that 'only the extreme cases' needed sexual domination.

Linda looks almost pained as she admits, “I’d have to recommend you be admitted to an inpatient program then, if sex play was absolutely off the table. Multiple drops per day would be required to—”

“What?!” Mary groans, grabbing her hair and yanking it a little as she runs her fingers back through it. Multiple drops per day? What a joke. She’d be a drooling, submissive zombie! “No way! I can't do that!” She wouldn't be able to keep her job if she had to do that. She wouldn’t be able to bake, or work out. She’d have no life!

“We hardly ever institutionalize people like that anymore,” Linda assures her. “And I promise I won’t recommend it if you can find a drop partner with whom you’re comfortable.”

“To fuck,” Mary grumps, being crass on purpose.

“Mary ...” Linda looks sorrowfully at her. “Really, this isn’t the norm. People like you usually test into the system early and grow up with much better care plans in place. Like Bucky did. This is really an unfortunate convergence of circumstances. We only want what’s best for—”

“I want drugs,” Mary says, blurting it out because she’s feeling icy panic at the way Linda had thrown out the word 'institutionalization'. Jesus Christ. “That’ll make me better, right?”

Linda downright cringes. “The medications we have available for this still come with a lot of side effects. I’m not going to prescribe those for you yet.”

"Well what are the side effects?”

Linda sighs as if Mary is the biggest pest. “Let’s at least have you take the assessment I told you about, okay?”

“Ugh. Fine.” A test can’t hurt, at least, Mary thinks. Linda looks pleased.

“Good. The SSITA is the first step. We’ll get you evaluated and go from there, okay?” She pushes the clipboard of papers on the coffee table over to her.

When Mary looks down, she reads the title page: Submissive Sexual Interests and Tendencies Assessment. “That’s … that’s personal,” she whispers, feeling her whole body heat. She shakes her head, already hating the idea.

“The results will be completely confidential. I won’t ever see your answers and neither will Bucky or Steve,” Linda promises, knowing by now that such a thing would humiliate Mary. “So there’s no reason not to answer honestly. A panel of staff who don’t know you and will never meet you evaluate the answers and send recommendations. That’s all.”

Mary picks the clipboard up with shaking hands. It holds a packet of papers with a pen tucked in at the clip. She bites her lip and nods. “Okay.” She takes the pen out and gets started.

It takes her about forty minutes to complete the assessment. It’s formatted into a bunch of statements with “strongly agree” all the way to “strongly disagree.” Checking the circles honestly has her blushing a bit some of the time, but Mary reassures herself with what Linda had said about the test’s anonymity. There are short answer questions at the end that have her gritting her teeth, but she’s honest, God help her. “Okay,” she says when she’s finished, handing the packet back over.

Linda briskly slips it into a manilla envelope and seals it. That’s reassuring, too. Mary takes a deep breath. “So, I don’t know who I’ll … ya know,” she makes a face, “do it with. Darcy said there are Professionals here? ProDoms?”

“Oh you met Darcy? She’s a wonderful girl. Very involved here. Yes we have our staff of ProDoms of course. But um,” Linda tilts her head. “What about Bucky?”

Mary looks down at her lap, thinking about the kiss they’d had. It’d been … Mary’s not sure she’s ever felt so unmoored by just a kiss. “He’s married,” she says quietly. “To Steve.” She thinks about her midnight conversation with Steve.

Linda is silent for a moment, and then she says carefully, “Mary ... Bucky and Steve have talked to me about this. During their sessions with me.”

“They have?”

“They’ve both expressed positive feelings about the possibility of a sexual relationship with you.”

Mary just about swallows her own tongue at that one. “Positive feelings?” What the hell does that mean? Has Bucky told Dr. Linda about the kiss? Has he told Steve?

Should she tell Steve? She’d hate to be the reason to break up a good marriage. ... But then again, Dr. Linda just said 'positive feelings'. Maybe that means that Steve and Bucky do want more.

Linda smiles encouragingly and puts the sealed assessment on her desk. “Yep. I suggest you talk with them about it.”

Mary sighs. Easier said than done.

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kastlequill · 8 months

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ii/v. ‘til my pulse loses time: pulsus bigeminus

pairing: kyle gaz garrick x f!reader word count: 1.4k synopsis: the second time you save gaz tags: whumptober, broken bones, blood and injury, wound tending, hurt/comfort, medic!reader, 4+1, no y/n warnings: war ao3: read here ← prev | next →

II.

The first time you left the base’s vicinity to operate out in the field was under less than ideal circumstances.

You’d been stitching up a deep laceration across the chest of an infantryman when your radio crackled to life. On the other end of the comms, Captain Price had informed you of his squad’s status after a particularly nasty ambush near a series of steep cliffs not too far off from the medbay. While Sergeant McTavish and that lieutenant had managed to avoid the worst of the damage, one Sergeant Garrick was currently still stuck under several large bits of debris. Before the captain tried pulling him free, he wanted medical personnel to be on standby.

So here you were, staring at a pile of rubble, wondering just how far below laid the man out of whom you’d dug a bullet some weeks ago.

“Have you been able to contact him, Captain?” you asked so as to fill the silence with something, anything other than your unrelenting thoughts of paranoia and worst-case scenarios.

Price nodded, his hands grabbing onto the collar of his tactical vest. “Affirmative. We checked in just before you arrived.”

“Put him on the line.”

The captain unclipped a hand-held radio from his waistband and tossed it your way before turning around to convene with his remaining men. You raised the device to the level of your chin, pressed the button on its side, and spoke.

“Sergeant Garrick,” you greeted, tone clinical and matter-of-fact. “Can you hear me?”

A cough sounded through the static. “Nice to hear a familiar voice, Doc.”

You almost snorted at that; familiarity wasn’t exactly the first word you’d use to describe your professional relationship with the guy. The two of you hadn’t exchanged more than a few acknowledging gestures since that day his comrades dragged him into the clinic. In fact, until this very moment, you’d thought he had forgotten all about the interaction, reducing you to a mere vagueness in his pain-hazed memory.

It appeared, however, that the sergeant remembered plenty enough. While he had managed to stay out of trouble—and thus out of your orbit—during this past string of weeks, the pit in your stomach had never quite left.

Your initial premonition had proven correct. Injured again. Through no fault of his own, yes, but establishing fault was hardly important when it came to life and death.

“How are you faring down there? Try and rank your pain on a scale of one to ten.” While you waited for him to respond, you began to set up your equipment, digging for your stethoscope, for bandages and gauze. Once everything was to your satisfaction, a quick wave of your hand brought Captain Price back to the site, ready to excavate the final member of his team.

“Feels like a bloody mountain of rocks just fell on top o’ me, how ‘bout that?”

Damn soldiers. Always difficult, always stubborn. “A number, Gaz.”

“Between a three and a four,” he relented after a few beats of silence. His voice sounded strained despite his efforts to conceal the truth of his current state. “But no rush, yeah? The quiet’s not so bad.”

You handed the radio back to the captain, with whom you shared a look. Freeing Gaz was your highest priority; there’d be no more delays.

Price signaled for McTavish and the one called Ghost to approach the rubble, and, together, the three of them got to digging. Their gloved hands lifted debris, methodically removing boulders and slabs of earth in a way that would minimize the risk of it all toppling down. It was arduous work, but involving heavier machinery might do more harm than good.

Ten minutes into the unburial, they located him. Pinned beneath stone, in an air pocket—alive. McTavish and Ghost relieved the crushing weight, enabling Price to grab Gaz by the arms and drag him towards an open spot of land. There, he tried to sit upright, eager to become of use, but a single stern if I catch you moving before the medic gives the all clear, I’ll make your arse clean latrines for the next month, hear? from his captain had him stilling.

As you knelt closer to the wounded man, those brown eyes swiveled to meet yours, trapping you with their alert intensity. Dirt was speckled across the bridge of his nose, appearing more like a patch of constellations than grime, and a cut crusted with dried blood ran through his left brow. Dust clung to his lashes, exhaustion deep set in his face, and yet he looked. . .

Good. Too good, considering where he’d been for the last hour. Not the most professional observation, sure, but you were only human.

The longer you maintained eye-contact, the more recognizable the reverence in his stare became to you; it wasn’t uncommon for soldiers who’d been separated from their environment, from their very atmosphere, to view the mortal world as heaven itself once they returned. That same sentiment was now infused into his gaze, shining with wonder, like he had just found the answers to his life-long questions, had just stumbled upon eternal paradise.

The kiss of the wind, the hug of the sunlight, the confession of the birdsong. A utopia; Eden.

“Happy to see the sun, Sergeant?”

A flicker of confusion replaced the awe in his expression, but it was gone so quickly you questioned if it’d even been there in the first place. “Right, the sun, yes, that. Bloody ecstatic.”

Gripping his shoulders, you assisted him in moving from a supine to an upright position, your efforts careful and gradual. The amount of buckles and straps and zippers that constituted his tactical vest were unnecessarily complicated, in your opinion, which made freeing it from his body too damn difficult. After a minute of watching you struggle, Gaz took mercy on you; he brushed aside your unsteady hands, swiftly unclasping the vest and pulling it over his head with a wince.

The motion drew your attention to his face. You assessed his clenched jaw, the pronounced frown line between his brows, the strained muscles and bulging veins in his neck—all physical signs that did not particularly bode well.

“I’m going to check if anything’s broken. Is it alright if I feel my way around?” At his nod, you brought your fingers to his sternum. “This may hurt.”

And so began the routine of poking and prodding and pressing. He inhaled sharply when you touched along his midsection, over his ribs, but he waved off your whispered apology, motioning for you to continue your examination. Even through his clothes, you could discern what felt like misaligned bones, which was to be expected.

You leaned slightly away to retrieve your stethoscope then guided its ends into your ears, wanting to listen to his lungs. Carefully untucking his shirt from the waistband of his cargo pants, you slipped your hand beneath the fabric and rested the auscultatory device against the skin of his back.

“Take a deep breath in for me. Hold it. Then slowly, slowly breathe out.”

Ever the soldier, he heeded your directive, his chest filling with oxygen. No crackling noises, and his respirations sounded regular, so you concluded that he had avoided puncturing a lung. Thankfully.

However, that still left the matter of the tenderness you’d felt in his torso as well as the fractures his ribcage had sustained.

“His ribs,” you diagnosed, withdrawing your hand from his heat, hanging the stethoscope around your neck, then rising to your feet to better address the captain. It unnerved you, the height difference between you and every single one of these men, and you thus had no desire to further add onto that preexisting disparity by staying on the ground. “They’re almost certainly broken, but we’ll do an x-ray to confirm. The good news is that the recovery should be quick and easy. He’ll be field-ready in no time at all.”

Price nodded, and the majority of his concern ebbed away, frown lessening. “But?”

“But.” There’d always be a but in this field. No good could come without being joined by the bad; they were a package deal. “The bad news is he’ll have to visit the medbay at least once a week so I can monitor how it’s healing.”

If you had fully turned around to face him then, you would’ve seen the sly grin that now illuminated his features, the glint that entered his eyes. Alas, you did not, and so his following words caught you off-guard, bringing heat to your cheeks.

“Seems we’ve got awfully different definitions of bad news, love.”

tbc.

#kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick #kyle garrick x reader #kyle garrick #cod gaz #gaz x reader #cod #cod x reader #call of duty #whumptober #my fic #fic: ‘til my pulse loses time

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soobadnoonecanstopher · 8 months

Text

Can I Stay? (A Baekhyun Story) Part 14.

Pairing: You x Baekhyun

Rating: M

Word Count: 7.6K

Warnings: Park Chanyeol word vomit. Crazy in love. Crazy, Crazy in love. Absolutely lost in the love sauce. FLUFF.

A romance between two adults with an unspecified age difference between them, an English story that uses the word Noona for lack of another word in English that carries the same feeling, if you don’t like this, then don’t read this story.

Tag list: @andimoon @his-mochi-cheeks

Links: Part 1, …. Part 13, Part 14, Part 15

He was tall and handsome, friendly and inviting. He shook your hand with animated enthusiasm and a wide toothy smile. Behind him, your boyfriend, Baekhyun stood with his arms folded over his chest, tapping his foot on the shiny marble tile floor. He cleared his throat noisily as his best friend Chanyeol shook your hand for what was going on now for too long. The smile on his face was almost manic. This guy’s energy matched his volume.

“Chanyeol can’t stay long. He’s got other things to do.”

“I don’t have anything to do. Do I smell Halmi’s food?”

Baekhyun’s face was passive and blank. You recognized the hesitation with the way he opened his lips and inhaled to speak and then closed his lips up again as he looked down at the floor below his bare feet. When he finally did answer, it had taken him a while.

“Yeah, Chanyeol. We went to see Mimi.”

Chanyeol’s forward steps hesitated and he paused mid-way between the long hallway that Baekhyun still occupied and the open kitchen space you stood in feeling underdressed and unprepared to suddenly be meeting Baekhyun’s best friend. You didn’t have a speck of makeup on but thank God you’d opted to wear a bra under this soft sleeping set because without it there would likely be no mysteries as to what you both had been up to before he showed up.

Chanyeol seemed to react curiously to the news that you’d both visited Baekhyun’s Mimi today. You did notice that Baekhyun didn’t ask if Chanyeol had had dinner nor did he make any offers to share food with the man.

He looked into Baekhyun’s face, his own eyes wide with a look of surprise that you didn’t quite understand. This must not have been about the food.

“You took her to Halmi?” Chanyeol asked with a step snuck closer to where Baekhyun stood with hands in his pockets.

Baekhyun nodded his head and Chanyeol turned back to look into your face.

You smiled in response, not quite grasping the significance of this detail that Chanyeol seemed to fixate on.

“Oh,” Chanyeol said quietly, not directing this at you but back toward the shorter man standing behind him.

“Yeah,” Baekhyun said, agreeing to something unspoken between the two of them.

“Mimi was very sweet,” you had to speak. This whole exchange was so cryptic and mysterious you could hardly stand it.

“She gave us some strawberries.” You said looking down at the container stuffed with bright red berries feeling just a little bit silly with the scant details you added to the story. You didn’t have nearly enough preparation for any of this and you honestly felt left out of their conversation about what you meeting Mimi seemed to imply to both of them.

Chanyeol responded with a bright face; matching your small polite smile with his own full grin, “Did she? She liked you then.”

“I liked her too,” you said softly to yourself. He was watching your face for a while with a pensive look before his smile returned to his face and he leaned a long torso beside you, propping himself on an elbow on the countertop.

“Well it’s very nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard so much about you, Noon—, uhh” his eyebrows furrowed and turned his focus to Baekhyun, “What do I call her? Is it too soon for Sister-in-law? I get to be your best man right? How long have you been dating? A half-year? If you took her to see Halmi then I’m going to say Sister-in-law. You have definitely been talking about her for at least a year.”

That didn't sound right, Baekhyun had only been working as your assistant for a few months. Sure you’d worked with him on a previous project but you’d had next to no interaction with the man, even if he seemed to remember you well enough. The more Chanyeol talked — and remarkably, he hadn’t quit yet — the more he sounded like an unreliable source. There were just so many words to this man and not nearly enough useful ones.

Baekhyun had joined you both in the kitchen and some sort of whispered exchange was happening that you decided you’d just let them have. Of course it was happening right beside you and you could hear everything they said.

“A month? No way, less than that? Well, what were you all up to here before I came? Is this your first date—-Ahhh,” Chanyeol let out a loud yelp of pain. Baekhyun had pinched him somewhere.

“Okay. I’m going…I’m going, settle down,” Chanyeol finally said with a deep frown. He was rubbing a palm over his ribs.

But he had turned to talk to you again. He’d said one thing while he actively did something else. He was fascinating to watch. Like a spinning top that once it got started just could not stop.

“I guess you already know that he’s crazy about you,” he said with his eyes wide and he giggled as he took a big step away from where Baekhyun reached out another hand with slim pinching fingers extended and grasping.

“Like crazy, crazy. Not cute, silly, rom-com crazy either — you know, for a while I was sure you were a symptom. I was convinced of it.” He took another big step away from your boyfriend who had switched to swatting. You heard the occasional smack that echoed out when a swinging hand made contact with a person’s back.

His stream-of-consciousness rambling was entertaining at least and you didn’t try that hard to hide your laughter, which only fueled more talking. You even nodded your head. Yes, you knew how much Baekhyun loved you. Yes, you also shared the same feelings. You’d already seen the closet full of things he bought — the troubling lack of self control he had was evident. But for you too, you’d already known first hand just how impossible it had been to keep yourself away from him.

Perhaps you were both just insane when it came to each other. Maybe you didn't want to be sane when it came to Baekhyun.

Folie à deux. A madness shared by two.

“Hey. I have things to warn her about,” Chanyeol was complaining at the unfair attempts to silence him, “like if Halmi calls you saying she’s on her deathbed and you have to get married right away before she dies, don't believe her, that’s just a trick. She did that to me once. That woman is built like an ox. I talked to her doctor myself.”

“If you don’t leave right now I’m canceling the card I gave you and I’m going to call your mom and tell her where she can find you.”

You didn't think it was possible but Chanyeol finally closed up his lips and pulled a black rectangle of plastic out of the pocket of his hoodie. The silence was temporary — just long enough for him to look down at the credit card he’d gotten from his best friend in exchange for going away.

“The only reason I’m using this is so she doesn’t know how to find me. I will not go on any more blind dates. She picks the weirdest girls. I wonder if my new Sister-in-law has a sister or a cousin as pretty as she is. You know, Baekhyun, I always thought you didn’t have any game. It turns out you’re just picky as hell.”

He was actually being pushed toward the front door but the words just kept tumbling out of the man.

“5-stars is fine right?”

“4 stars.”

“5 stars, come on.”

“3 stars. Holiday Inn Express.”

“Holiday Inn — How do you even know what that is? I’m staying at Banyan.”

“Chanyeol, I don't care where you go. Just go.”

“That counts as Banyan permission.”

A door clicked closed and there was an instant oppressive silence that filled the home. You could hear the quiet footsteps as Baekhyun made his way back into the kitchen and you watched for the moment when his pretty face appeared back in front of your eyes.

He had a tiny smile on his lips when he came back into the Kitchen and his footsteps were sluggish.

“Well that was fun,” you said softly as you bit down on your lips to control the grin on your face. He made a small sound like a single chuckle pushed through his nose.

“So that was my friend Chanyeol.” He said with his eyebrows lifted up high on his face and his eyes glancing down over the big bowl of strawberries you had been busying yourself with. You felt weirdly grateful that you had something to do with your hands during that entire exchange and after a little bit of snooping around this massive kitchen you even managed to find a hidden trash can in one of the side cabinets at the end of this kitchen island. You’d dropped all of the green tops there and the berries were washed and ready for a trip around this big house.

“He seems like he’s very fun at parties.” Chanyeol had been a lot. Chatty and pushy and loud, but incredibly sweet and inviting. You knew instantly that you would always be able to strike up a conversation with him easily, despite how intense he had been. Baekhyun inhaled a deep breath and his lips pulled wide as he squinted his eyes.

“Do you still like me?” His big brown eyes prodded against your own and you bit down on your bottom lip as you nodded your head up and down twice. You held the bowl of berries in one arm and you reached out your other hand to grab ahold of Baekhyun’s, slipping your fingers in between his and you squeezed.

“Do you ever just hang out in the naked lady’s room?” You wanted to see the house, but you kind of wanted to sit down somewhere with him and enjoy the fruit first. The bowl was rather heavy and you didn’t really feel like lugging it around through the entire place. Perhaps you could both start with a little picnic there.

Baekhyun had been watching your face with a sort of dreamy expression but when your question registered, you caught the shift of his eyes as he looked away from you for a second, glanced around the empty kitchen space without any actual focus and he looked back at you again with his eyes narrowing some.

It was a sudden shift.

“Why? Did Chanyeol say something?” His question was quiet with a very light panic just below the surface and it pulled a surprised laugh from your chest with simply how guilty his expression had turned in an instant, “because I haven’t done that since I was going through puberty.” You laughed harder, having to let go of his hand so you could cover your mouth to quiet the surprised laughter that erupted from you.

He had a smile growing on his face as he spoke of this and he was looking up into the ceiling with an inhale of air into his lungs, “but yeah, back then I used to spend a lot of time in that room with her,” he was laughing now with his mouth open and his face had turned pink with the belly laughs.

You couldn't help your laughter. It was your own fault for asking this question. You weren’t sure what kind of response you had expected but it hadn’t been his silly confession about his middle school sexual awakening and self discovery.

“Do you still like me?” He asked this again through the deep giggles that had taken him over. You nodded your head as a response and lifted your hand to run your fingers over the back of his head slipping them through his hair. You relished in the way his laughter quieted down when you did it. His scalp was warm below your fingertips and his eyes rolled closed with your sudden touch.

You still wanted to see it up close so you grabbed him by the hand and pulled him, headed toward the room with the statue so you could look at the beautiful artwork. You’d never had the chance to see something so precious before.

It was just as magnificent as you thought it would be. The room was round with a domed ceiling and the overhead lighting shone brightly on only the marble statue. The rest of the room had a softer dim glow that felt purposeful in its design, making the focus here only about her. You set the fruit down off to one side and Baekhyun took a seat on the floor beside the bowl and leaned against the wall with his hands folded quietly in his lap as you stood as close as you dared to this incredible work of art.

“She’s so beautiful,” you said in a quiet whisper as you looked up at the impeccable smoothness of her skin, trying your best to imagine the kind of care and precision that would go into carving something like this out of stone. It felt impossible. And yet here she stood in front of you with all of her intricate details from the waves of her hair made up of individual strands; her delicate arm lifted over her head; her nipples that stood erect over the soft mounds of her breasts; her belly button and the round bump in her belly where if she were alive, her life creating organs would hide; the swell of her hips and even the small dimples in her soft flesh that made her look so soft and so real. Even the expression on her face was sensual. Her thoughts only of her lover. That love eternally preserved on the tip of her tongue that sat just inside the hollow behind her parted lips.

You wondered about the emotions that such a piece of work would carry with it over the years and your heart swelled with the idea that maybe this woman actually existed once. Maybe she was adored by just one person, by her one person; adored enough to inspire the overwhelmingly all consuming, obsessive labor of love that it would take to create a masterpiece such as this.

“Can I touch her?” You pulled your eyes away long enough to ask your question. You’d been so transfixed by seeing this up close that you half expected for your words to pull him out of his own examination of the statue but you found Baekhyun’s eyes the second you turned to him. He wasn’t looking at the statue at all, but seemed to only have been watching you.

After a few seconds he nodded his head, “You can do anything you want,” he said.

You knew it was a rock. Your rational mind knew it, at least. But the way this looked, so real and life-like, as if it were made of warm flesh and bones, had what you knew in your mind and what you’d expected to feel under your fingertips at odds with each other. The cold temperature of the stone made you gasp when your fingertips touched the solid polished surface. You pressed against the stone, astonished that it had no give as flesh should have had.

You turned to him with amazement and delight evident on your face. But Baekhyun had a brilliantly wide smile on his own face that floored you. His eyes had pulled up into little moons making him look so damn beautiful you had to hold your breath and take a step back and away from all of the beauty you found yourself surrounded by in this place.

You had to sit down. Without having had a single sip of any alcohol, you felt overwhelmed and drunk.

You moved through the space to where he sat on the floor with his legs crossed and you took your place right beside him; your hip flush with his; your thigh touching his thigh; your arm warm against this arm and you leaned your head on his shoulder with the smallest contented sigh escaping from your lungs as you did it.

If you could bottle this feeling inside of you, surely it would change the world. If only you could hold it forever in the palm of your hand, surely you’d never ever let it go.

You felt the warmth of his head just above yours when he leaned onto you and when your hand squeezed around his bicep, the softness of his arm gave under your fingertips.

He was warm and real and alive here beside you. You could touch him just as easily as you touched the beautiful marble. You didn't even have to ask for permission first because he was your person. He was your love. And he responded to you. His hand landed over yours and he gave you a little squeeze. His warm palm rubbed over your bare knee and his fingertips flexed and dipped and pushed into the soft flesh of your inner thigh and your living flesh gave where his fingers touched.

“Can I keep you forever?” Your own voice surprised you. You hadn’t intended to say this outloud to him, but that drunk feeling had taken your common sense away from you. Once the words came out of your mouth, you pulled your lips closed and pressed the tips of your fingers tightly over your lips. You probably meant to only think this. You definitely didn’t intend to say it, but hearing the echo of those words you had just asked him and their heavy implication had your skin burning. Your heartbeat echoed noisily inside your eardrums. Not only were you surprised by your own words, but what shocked you more was just how much you really meant what you had just said.

Baekhyun’s movements, his thumb brushing lightly over your hand, and the other hand he lightly touching over your knee, even his steady in and out breathing, all of it had gone still.

You pulled your head off of his shoulder and he moved his head from where he had been resting on you. You felt downright silly for this intense reaction you were having, but you had just said something to him that made you feel so very vulnerable and exposed. But, god help you, you did actually mean it. You meant that you wanted him to be yours. Always. You meant that you never ever wanted him to say goodbye to you and you never wanted to say goodbye to him. You never wanted to be apart from him. You never wanted to sleep in a cold bed without him by your side and you felt absolutely insane knowing that you meant it.

Saying this out loud felt downright terrifying.

When you pulled your head away he looked at you and you looked at him; knowing for certain that the heat you felt all over your head would have made your cheeks flushed.

“Did you say that by accident?” He was tempering his response to your strong reaction. He was being your extremely observant and insightful Baekhyun.

“Yes,” you said softly, “but also no. I don’t know.” you added hopelessly as you closed your eyes, unable to stand how very much this man could tell from looking into your eyes.

“I meant it,” you began in about as soft a whisper as you could manage, “but then it felt like maybe I shouldn’t have told you that.”

“Why not tell me that?” His hand had moved and you felt his warm fingers laid out over the side of your face. He was pulling your face back up so you could look into his eyes again.

You blinked your eyes quickly, touching lightly and delicately into his eyes for only a few short moments at a time. “Just feels a little embarrassing that I said that. Seems like maybe I told you a secret,” you said.

“Is that your secret? Hmm?” His gentle words felt as soft as the pads of his fingertips that touched lightly along your jawline.

“Do you want to keep me forever?”

Your small head nod came with the smallest pull of your lips into a hopeless smile. You closed your eyes with the acknowledgment you gave him. You felt the softness of his lips land over your temple as he placed a delicate kiss on your flushed warm face.

“I think we might have a problem,” he said with his voice raising in volume just a touch. Just enough for your eyes to open and for you to look into the brown of his eyes for the meaning to his words.

Had you made a mistake with your confession? You felt a grain of doubt rest just at your surface, threatening to sink in.

“Because I also want to keep you forever, and I’m no good with keeping secrets.” Your slow exhale came from deep within your chest and when you opened your eyes you found him watching you from up close.

“We should both stop talking — before —” you cut yourself off suddenly, taking in a deep breath that you exhaled noisily instead of finishing your thought out loud. The threat of saying anything else that you knew should not be spoken was simply too powerful and so you reached across his waist for a strawberry; gripping the biggest one you felt under your fingertips and you brought it up to your lips for a bite into the juicy fruit.

It was sweet and it was delicious and just as you lifted the rest to your lips you saw him move as his mouth opened up over the half bitten strawberry you held in your fingers and he pulled it into his mouth. The tip of his tongue and his teeth lightly grazed your finger as he did it and you bit down on your bottom lip as you watched him chew and swallow all the while he kept his knowing eyes on you, simply lifting a single eyebrow as licked his lips. He made no efforts to convince you to continue saying what you and he both knew you had been saying.

“These are so sweet,” you grasped ahold of your excuse as you reached for another berry and he was silent as he watched you do it.

Baekhyun’s lips parted as if he was waiting for something from you.

The other half of one of your strawberries, or perhaps a kiss. You leaned into him and captured his pouty bottom lip in between your own, lightly sucking the softness of it into your mouth; tasting strawberries and tasting him.

When you pulled away from him his eyes were closed and he opened them slowly to watch your face again.

“Want another one?” You asked with a smile, purposefully not defining what you were offering while keeping your tone light and innocent.

He nodded his head. You lifted the strawberry to your lips, took a bite into it as you leaned into his waiting mouth. He took the other half between his teeth from your lips as you had intended and his wet lips pursed into your mouth with a kiss before you pulled your face away, chewing what was left of the sweet fruit..

You’d only had enough time to swallow when he leaned into you again, lifting both hands to your face to pull you into him for another kiss. This one was deeper and you felt held in place by his hands that pulled you into his open mouth. He tasted so good. It wasn’t just the strawberries, the man had a smell and a taste that sunk deep into the very center of you, making it impossible to pull away from him; making you want to taste him again and again.

His lips were pinker now, probably from the fruit. “You taste like strawberries,” you said with a smile and another small kiss.

“You’re doing an awful lot of talking for someone who just shut me up five minutes ago.” His voice was playful and with his fingertips, he rolled the fabric of your shirt back and forth absentmindedly.

“I didn’t just shut you up. I shut both of us up,” you defended and a scoff followed by a small chuckle erupted from him.

“Oh right. What was it again?” His eyes narrowed as he pretended to recall the exchange you’d just, quite expertly changed the subject away from.

“We should both stop talking, before…before,” he did his impression of you again and you felt the blood rush just under the skin of your scalp, the feeling exploding like fireworks under the surface of your skin and with it came a wave of goosebumps that traveled down your neck; down the center of your spine. The danger of this talk had returned again.

He had already warned you that he was bad at secrets and you knew how shoddy his self control was when it came to you.

“Before what?” He casually and unceremoniously plopped a strawberry into his mouth and chewed on it a few times.

“Before I go crazy and ask you to marry me and you go crazy and say yes?”

His words landed with a big splash against your chest; sending rippling waves outward that rocked you again and again, making you feel dizzy and seasick.

“Baek,” you said quietly, feeling every single bit of the seriousness of this conversation. You felt flush and warm all over and when you looked down at your bare legs you could see where your skin prickled and poked with goosebumps from how overwhelmed this kind of talking had made you feel.

“I want to keep you forever and you want to keep me forever,” he said, “isn’t that what that means?”

He wasn’t wrong.

He was brave enough to speak it outloud.

You inhaled the smallest gasp for air through your parted lips. It was all you could manage with his deep brown eyes looking into you like this. With him seeing you so clearly and knowing you so completely like this.

“Baekhyun, this is—” You couldn't find the words. Your mind felt too jumbled and he was watching you with a look of seriousness inside of his rapidly blinking wet eyes. Your focus was pulled down where inside his hands he fidgeted with a strawberry and it trembled inside his fingertips. His hands were shaking.

“Crazy?” He whispered and swallowed before speaking again, “I know,” his lips hung open and he puffed out a breath, “it is.” His words labored through his whispered breaths. “I don't mean right now. It doesn't have to be tonight, or tomorrow, or next month. I’m just —”

“Don't say any more. If you ask me, I’ll say yes.” You’d closed your eyes and your hand had reached for his trembling hand to steady him. He didn’t need to be nervous about this with you. Even if you felt like you might float away with as much anxiety as you felt bubbling up inside of your stomach.

“You would say yes? Right now, you would say yes?” His fingertips wrapped tightly around your hand and you leaned forward to press your lips up against his. It was partly because of the love, but it was mostly to silence him, to keep him from talking about this any more. You didn’t have any desire to ever leave his side, but once either of you actually said it, it would become true. It would take on meaning. It would become fact.

You knew—you knew this was too fast. You knew this was crazy. You knew that taking this step would be fraught with obstacles that threatened to destroy the both of you. You knew how many challenges you both would face if you even dared to dream that this could be true for you with him. You knew it deep down inside your bones, and yet — and yet your heart was racing, running away by itself with its own little fantasies that maybe, maybe he wouldn't listen to you.

Maybe he would ask.

Maybe you wanted him to. You wanted him to want to ask you and you wanted to say yes.

“I love you,” he said softly into the small space that existed between your lips and his, “do you love me?”

You nodded your head and looked up into his brown eyes. Your ears had a hum that sounded out, it seemed to be coming from somewhere within your chest. Baekhyun was moving, he pushed his crossed legs apart and wrapped his legs around you where you sat beside him on this floor. He wrapped his arms around your shoulders and you felt encased fully within the secure warmth of his body.

“I love you,” he said again. Your saliva pooled inside your mouth and you swallowed it away, “do you love me?” A breath caught in your throat and you felt dizzy without the oxygen.

“Baby, do you love me? Do you love me?”

You were nodding your head again, opening your lips, desperately searching for your voice and begging that you could find it to answer him.

“Yes,” you said through a borrowed breath.

He was watching your face when you answered.

You felt drunk on the deep brown color you found in his eyes. You felt possessed by the adoration that flowed through your veins for him.

“Baby-”

He was looking into your face when he did it —when he said it.

“Will you marry me?”

“Let’s get married. Hmm?”

“I only want you.”

“I only need you.”

“I only love you.”

Your lungs had quit. Your heartbeat was drowned out by the loud humming sound that filled your head. Every cell inside of your body vibrated and you knew — you knew that if he hadn’t been wrapped around you so entirely you might not have been able to stay down on this floor. You might have just floated up and evaporated into lighter than air filled bubbles, carried by the wind until each and every one popped and you ceased to exist entirely.

You were spinning and spinning inside of your own head.

“Yes.” Your lips and your tongue moved on their own, pushed forward by your heart that was filled to the brim and overflowing with only him, “okay. Yes. If you want to marry me, I want to marry you.”

He watched your face so closely; his warm eyes pushing deep inside your own and the gasp for air from his parted lips didn't pull his heavy eyelids closed. The small tick of his eyebrow up on his forehead didn’t pull those eyes from yours and he watched you with a silent intensity; you burned inside of it.

There was a simultaneous movement between the two of you that happened. Your hands flew to your mouth as you gasped out in genuine surprise and he dipped his head, closed his eyes up tight and let out a deep laugh from the center of his chest.

You let one of your hands free to quickly swat against his chest. He was giggling. He was laughing with unbridled joy written all over his face and your own laughter you covered with the palm of your hand.

“We are crazy!” You said in wild eyed disbelief, “Baek, we are insane! This isn’t normal right?”

“I’ve never pretended to be normal about you,” he said through the wide smile that had taken over his face.

“But—but, I don’t even know your favorite color. Or your favorite school subject. I don’t even know your favorite food. Baek, what are we even thinking?”

It was a little late for you to suddenly be having these sorts of doubts. You’d already agreed to marry him and you were pretty sure if he took it back you’d cry and cry and cry for a whole year and probably shrivel up in a ditch somewhere.

He still had his arms wrapped around your waist and he pulled you closer into his chest as his eyes angled upward, he pouted his lips and his face took on a pensive expression.

“My favorite color is this color,” he lifted a finger and touched lightly over your bottom lip. You pulled your lips inward, biting down with your teeth to hide the wide smile that threatened to consume you.

“My favorite food is—” he reached with that same hand and grabbed another strawberry from the bowl, lifting it up to your lips and giving it a tiny push until you opened your mouth for him to push it inside. You’d expected him to let you just have it, but he was holding on long enough for his mouth to open up over the other end. You were too giggly for the kiss. You felt a bit of the strawberry’s juice dribble down your lip, you had to catch it with your fingertips. He was talking again with his mouth full, “—is half of your strawberries.” He was chewing and nodding his head appreciatively.

“My favorite subject is math,” he said abruptly while pulling his face back and squinting his eyes in your direction. You’d been spoiled by his answers already and you definitely expected him to say something else related to you. The surprise caught you off guard and he knew it.

“Math?”

“Mhmm,” he said as he grabbed another strawberry and popped it into his mouth.

You sat there with him quietly munching on fruit until the bowl was empty. There was no talk of rushing to define things. There were no discussions about the what’s or the when’s or the Dear God How’s that were involved in this monumental change that you had both decided was worth making for each other. You both simply ate these strawberries, smiled and sometimes giggled with each other, and enjoyed the stunning beauty of all that surrounded you in this magical place.

When the berries were gone and the tingling in your legs had settled with a few stretches and pointing moves of your toes, you knew it was time to get up off of this floor and take a walk with him.

“Am I ever going to get my tour?”

He was moving with you; carrying the bowl back to the kitchen, he simply set it on the counter and walked away as you curiously looked back at the white bowl with red stains splashed on the inside.

Your conscience nagged, “should we wash it?”

He was already pulling at your hand and leading you away from the kitchen into newer, unexplored parts of the house.

“Staff will get it.” You heard him say and you pulled lightly against his hand. The sudden resistance halted his forward progress and he turned a curious face to you. Your mind was whirling. You already knew about the butler (if that’s what that man was called) but he didn’t say that he would get it.

Baekhyun had definitely used an unmistakably plural term just now.

“Staff?” Your voice had a slight alarmed tone. You’d just made peace with the fact that at any time that you were here alone with him, a strange man might suddenly clear his throat from the shadows and catch you making out with your boyfriend/fiancé (!!!!) — but, staff?

“How many people are actually here right now?”

You pulled your hand out of his and wrapped your arms around your stomach, feeling just a little self conscious about the short shorts you wore and the very obvious, very intimate kissing and sweet giggling, and extremely personal conversation you and him had been taking part of inside that room with the statue. What if everything had been overheard, or worse, overseen?

Baekhyun tilted his head and glanced upward here and there, his focus flirting around in a few directions above his head. You had a sinking feeling the longer he pondered.

“Like…five at night. More during the day.”

“So we aren’t alone here, at any point in time?” You did your best to keep your voice neutral.

“We are absolutely alone inside my room. I promise. I don’t have a whole lot of say about the estate. It’s funded by the trust and run by an estate manager.” He was speaking to things you had no experience with, and while the words he spoke sounded fancy you really didn’t understand any of this. You at least found some solace in the fact that everything that took place in that comforting and familiar feeling bedroom of his was completely private.

Baekhyun was leading you around his home. The place was as enormous as you suspected. There were entire spaces dedicated to a single use. Like the home theater or the actual ballroom with its ceiling lined with crystal chandeliers. The excess was shocking. Baekhyun told you that when he was younger, his mother often threw elaborate parties here but he confessed that he had only been to some of these rooms once or twice and you struggled with the idea of living in such a place and never actually using any of it. He mentioned that his mother was in another country, and had been for some time. He shrugged when you frowned at this and he said he always had his Mimi.

As impressive and as breathtakingly beautiful as everything was, you could see how he might have felt quite lonely here.

You longed for the comfort of his bedroom again. You stood in a long white winding hallway and your eyes had focused on a piece of artwork that hung on the wall here. It was something that was obviously extremely expensive and maybe even extremely old. This was something that one might expect to find in a museum gallery in Paris or London. The longer you stared at, the more emotions you felt filling your chest.

It was a pair of lovers locked in an eternal kiss. Their faces were hidden but everything about their bodies and the desperate way they clung to each other felt like the mad kind of love you felt for the man who patiently waited behind you as you took your time with this particular painting.

His fingers in particular were doing you in. He cradled her face with one hand; fingertips dug into the soft pillows of her plump cheeks and with his other hand splayed at the small of her back, he pulled her into his body.

It was a desperate passion. It was insatiable and hanging here in this hallway it would remain as such forever.

“This is incredible.” You whispered and you heard a soft hum behind you moments before a body’s warmth descended over your back and his arms wrapped around you. “I think this is me and you,” you giggled at how silly you sounded and you felt his pointed chin rest over your shoulder. You could make out his face, despite how close he was to you. He was looking at the painting now, paying closer attention with a small smile.

He spun you around inside his arms and he leaned his head into you, his hand lifting to your face and you felt the warm softness of his lips as he kissed you here. His hand gripped tightly around your lower back and his fingertips dug into the soft flesh of your ass and his lips and mouth and teeth and tongue and he took and took from your mouth with a demanding need that surprised you.

Your ears picked up on a sound somewhere in the house. Not close enough to make you panic but you were once again reminded that this was not the place for such things.

You pulled away from his kiss. He bent at the waist and he followed you but with two hands planted firmly over his shoulders you put enough distance between the two of you that afforded the opportunity for some words.

“Baby, I heard a sound. This shouldn’t happen here. Someone might see.”

He closed his eyes and licked his lips, straightening his spine and lifted a hand to rub over his face. Baekhyun nodded quietly and the smile that broke on his face was small and sheepish for a moment. Just for a moment because he shifted quite suddenly, his eyes widened, and his mouth hung open as if he had just had some sort of epiphany.

It took a few moments of him standing with this shocked expression on his face before he inhaled to speak.

“It’s not the sex, the sex wasn’t the problem we have at work.”

You shook your head, needing him to elaborate for you to understand what in the world he was so excited about.

“We can have sex.” He said with a smile and another nod of his head, your own lips pulled into a smile despite having no clue where he was going. “In fact we should. We should have lots and lots of sex. As much as we want, right? Just… get it out of our systems.”

“I mean—” you began cautiously. His eyes were wide. He was excited. Hell, you were getting rather excited with his idea of a sex marathon. It sounded much better than, say, a Star Wars marathon.

“What if we bring in another person?” His frantic eyes looked into yours and you closed up your lips immediately as you pulled your face back and away from him.

No?

No.

Hell no.

Hard pass.

What was this?

Absolutely not.

“Baekhyun.” you spoke his name clearly and plainly, without any hint of amusement in your voice. The sudden change in your demeanor pulled his lips closed and his eyes shot into yours with rapid speed.

“Baekhyun… like… a,” you leaned and lifted a finger up toward his face, his eyes nearly crossed to look down at your pointed finger as you harnessed your most disparaging whisper, “like a threesome? Baek, no.”

His eyes went wide again and suddenly he was erupting in laughter. You couldn’t quite catch up. Your finger was still raised and he was cackling and grabbing ahold of your finger with his hand shaking it lightly as he held an arm over his belly and groaned, panted, laughed some more and tried to reign it in.

“Hey. Lady. Get your mind — out of the gutter,” he said through the fit; still trying to breathe through the noisy laughs that had taken his breath away.

“In the office! Another person at work in the office with us, Jesus Christ, you’re so fucking funny I can’t,” he was holding a hand over his closed eyes, wiping moisture from his closed eyelids.

“Sunny’s project wrapped already. She can come in tomorrow and shadow me, learn the job before I leave,” he lifted up one finger, “so, good idea number one,” his second finger joined, “and good idea number two, we definitely will behave if someone else is there with us, right?”

“Why would you say it like that? We can have lots and lots of sex what about bringing in another person?” You’d dropped your voice and scrunched up your nose, doing your absolute best to sound like this silly giggling man who stood in front of you giving you a damn heart attack with his terrible sentence structure choices. “You scared the shit out of me. I mean, oh my god? My boyfriend, hours after becoming my fiancé, wants to what?!”

You felt that you were very worked up. But you had genuinely and seriously misunderstood him just now. Your hands were still shaking from the shock of it.

He grabbed you by the shoulders and gave you a good shake. “Get it together woman! I would never. Never! I am a one woman man. And you are that one woman.”

“And that was a terrible, awful impression of me. Do you think I sound like that? God. I love you.”

You crossed your arms over your chest and rolled your eyes. Your impression was awesome. You had his speech pattern down to a science.

“Oh my god, shut up. I sounded exactly like you. I love you, too.”

“Oh my god.” He lifted his voice playfully, reaching out with his fingers to poke along your ribs, “You shut up. I love you more.”

You evaded the pokes from him and made your way out of this maze of hallways and theaters and fitness rooms and ballrooms and countless dining rooms and you headed in what you hoped was the direction of his bedroom. You got turned around but with a few light pushes steering you in the right direction you eventually found the familiar kitchen with its spotlessly clean countertop and you could definitely find your way back to the comfort of his bed and the comfort of his arms from here.

[To be Continued]

Links: Part 1, …. Part 13, Part 14, Part 15

#exo #exo fanfiction #exo smut #baekhyun #exo fic #exo scenario #baekhyun smut #byun baekhyun #fanfiction

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totallynotlx · 8 months

Text

Playing House in the Ruins of Us

You never really had control over your life from the very beginning. You are but a pawn to your clan—a means to expand your family's power. Your marriage to some noble was inevitable, set before you could walk. Meanwhile, in comes Gojo Satoru. A snobby little future head of the Gojo clan, the strongest jujutsu sorcerer in the world. A womanizer. Unserious. And yet, he cannot let you go, a girl who never really had any control of her destiny. You envied each other as you represented something that each couldn't have, yet he is the only escape from your cruel world… but in exchange for your sanity.

Aka, Gojo learns to mellow down… but he is not going down with a fight. And neither are you. Why would you fall in love with such a self-centered (but gorgeous) man?

Notes: Canon-divergent. Gojo adopts Tsumiki and Megumi when they're a bit older. Some events also happen a bit later on in the timeline.

A/N: Bruh, this is such a fever dream. It's been a while since I've written anything, so pardon me if I'm rusty. I blame this lanky ass white-haired little meow meow for bringing me back from the dead. We came up with the whole story in two sittings… So yeah, we know how this goes, and we planned to make it hurt. We are just your typical hurt/comfort enjoyers uwu

Tags: Arranged Marriage (Reader to someone else), Eventual Smut, Smut, Drinking Games, One Night Stands, Masturbation, Porn Video (oop), Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff

Words: 13.3k

Ao3 link if you prefer

✦﹒chapter 1: encounters over drinks﹒✶﹒﹒

A glass clinks. A nearby clock ticks endlessly. The music is booming, but he can barely hear it with how he's feeling. He takes a swig from the amber drink from his glass, sunglasses hanging low on his nose bridge, not hiding the prettiest snow-white lashes. One of the few reasons he earned a couple of stares from people around the nightclub. Except for the neon lights flashing every couple of seconds, there is no reason why a person would need sunglasses in a dark place like this… Well, an average person anyway… and he is anything but. Pristine albino white hair dangled freely on his forehead, hiding the most luminous cerulean blue eyes one will ever see. He is incredibly tall. His feet reached the floor despite the tall bar stool he was sitting on. Eye candy is an understatement to describe him. Girls would ogle from across the room, daring each other to try and talk to this man who seemed out of place. He looked almost too elegant for a nightclub. One particular girl started to make her way toward him. Her strides are confident, hair swishing with each step she took in her high heels. Unbeknownst to her, he was painfully aware of her approach, a smirk already forming on his lips. The girl sat down to his right and was about to order her drink when he called the bartender instead.

"Make her whatever she wants. My treat." The voice was almost melodic. The girl internally noted a tinge of playfulness and boyish charm dripping from his voice. "Ah, where are my manners? I’m Gojo, Gojo Satoru.” He extends his hand. "Nice to meet you."

Sleep slowly escaped from his grasp. Blue eyes slowly take in the early morning rays of the sun. The room was unfamiliar but neat, and Gojo slowly took in his surroundings. He could feel the slow breathing of the person beside him and remembered the heavy breaths and sweaty bodies giving in to pleasure and passion.

Right. That happened.

He sat up, scanning the room for his clothes. They were all over the place. Guess he had a fun night. A smirk creeps up on his lips as he slowly gets off the bed, careful not to wake up the person beside him. He slowly picks up his clothes on the floor and puts on his pants, brushing his hair away from his eyes. He picks up his sunglasses and puts them in his pockets before leaving the room. He heads to the kitchen and grabs and sips a glass of water before getting another drink and returning to the bedroom. He sets the glass on the bedside table before putting his shirt on, not bothering to leave a note before teleporting away.

In the blink of an eye, his surroundings changed as naturally as one would breathe—perks of someone with complete mastery of their technique. The penthouse apartment he owned was mainly empty except for the minimalistic pieces of furniture. Gojo Satoru wasn't the type to decorate as he didn't spend much time in this house, traveling all over Japan, sometimes even overseas, but he kept his place tidy. He drops his sunglasses on his kitchen counter and heads to the shower.

He turns the showerhead on, letting his hair get soaked as he stares at his feet. Another night, another woman. It's always the same old song and dance. Who wouldn't? In his experience, no other person has been able to resist him. A smile, a suggestive head tilt, a flirtatious conversation, and they'd be head over heels. It was too damn easy.

He continued to prepare for his day. Despite being a bit hungover, he still has responsibilities to the jujutsu world that he cannot escape from, and his day has barely started.

A loud ringing stirs your peaceful sleep, and you open your eyes just as the sun's rays pierce through the gaps in your curtains. Even the little light filtering into your room makes your eyes hurt as an aftermath of your all-nighter. Studying and practicing the law wasn't something you wanted to do, but you're already in too deep to back the fuck out. It's the weekend after your exams, and you wonder why the hell your alarm was ringing… or was that even an alarm? You drowsily fish your phone from your bedside table and realize it's not an alarm but a call.

Shit.

In the next hour or so, you try to make yourself as presentable as possible. Scouring your wardrobe for one of your formal kimonos, you tie your hair in a neat bun before heading down from your apartment. As told by your mother over the phone, your family has sent one of the family cars to fetch you. When he spotted you, the driver headed out to open the door for you. You silently got in the car, and it wasn't long before the engine started.

You were heading back to your clan's ancestral home for a discussion. A discussion you would rather not have: your marriage arrangements. Your marriage to another powerful clan's son was already set in stone when you were born. Everyone in the family was abuzz with excitement the moment you turned eighteen. Not just because it was your turning of age but because you can finally be a pawn to your clan's motives to become a more powerful, prominent clan in Japan. You scoff at the idea. If not for their offering you freedom in exchange for your obedience, you would have left long ago. Despite taking your choices for a longtime partner, they let you choose your profession. They allowed you out of the house and gave you your apartment. A small price to pay if you are being honest…

You reached the compound gates, greeted by the same old trees and rows of houses you knew growing up. As you approach the main house, you steel your nerves, looking into your phone one final time to ensure you are "perfect" before the car stops and the driver opens the door for you. You put on the bravest face as you step out of the car and into the house, taking a deep breath as you do so.

You've met your fiancé before but have yet to like him. And whenever you two were to spend time together, you both found new ways to disagree. To say that you never got along was an understatement… and to think you are resigning yourself to this fate. You two were to join families, produce children to carry on your families' bloodline, and stay together for better or worse. God, you both hated each other for no reason other than that the other represented each other's misery.

The discussion took forever, and the sun was already setting when you exited the house— as much as you were relieved it was over, the clan head's decision rang in your head loud and clear: Next spring, they said. When flowers are in bloom, they said. It'll be a beautiful wedding, they said. Neither you nor your future husband utters a word or opinion. Never looked at each other, just plastering fake smiles and nodding in agreement with whatever they recommended. You sigh as you enter your apartment, putting your slippers neatly on the genkan. You headed straight to your bedroom, eager to get out of your kimono as if it was contaminated. It was the weekend, and you're sure as hell not letting some shitty ass marriage discussion ruin your mood. You worked your ass off during the week on your studies, and it was finally time to unwind. Yes, tonight you needed release. A little bit of freedom. A little bit of control over your decisions.

In a couple of hours, you walked up to the bar of your favorite exclusive nightclub. You had no intention or plans to be there, but what transpired earlier that day warranted a night out instead of a night wallowing in your misery and sleeping it off. You ordered your favorite drink, a lemon sour, and after downing a glass or two, you danced with anyone and everyone in your vicinity.

Gojo Satoru had also seemingly found himself here. He'd made himself a little non-sorcerer friend after saving him from the malice of a curse. This guy had no way of thanking Gojo other than getting him into this club. As to how this man had exclusive rights to invite guests to said club, Gojo had yet to learn. Very peculiar, honestly. So he went. He went to drink his night away. He went to find his next delectable prey. And fate moved you to each other just as the moon pushed water to land.

After dancing for maybe an hour or so, you wanted another drink, and that was when you noticed him. This white-haired man, seemingly, gets beer as any other average person. In comparison, you get another lemon sour. You stood beside each other respectfully, waiting for your drink, when he looked at you. He hadn't entirely decided who he would devour next, but a salacious smile spread on his face when he saw you. If he only knew that he, too, was nothing but prey that night.

When you approached the bar, you noticed him immediately. And you knew you weren't the only one. It had taken every nerve in your body not to stare at this white-haired man, who stood out slightly more than the other men in the club. I mean, with that hair and those tinted glasses, who wouldn't notice him? But you'd instead break your wrist before being caught ogling him.

He slowly leaned towards you, "Such a sour drink for such a sweet-looking girl," he bent down to your ear. You shivered. His sensuous and breathy voice had you licking your lips. God, his voice is delectable. You steal a glance at this man. And you catch a hint of blue behind the glasses that sat low on his nose. Pretty, you thought, and it took everything in you to steel your nerves and discreetly clear your throat.

"You're one to talk. Your words don't match your eyes." You tell him, earning yourself a chuckle, and you're convinced that this man is blessed by the gods.

"Why? Pray tell what you think they are telling you, hm?"

"Your words are flirtatious, sweet even, but your eyes... It looks like you're already undressing me with them." You raise an eyebrow. A challenge.

Snarky, gotta love that, Gojo thought. He likes a good challenge… especially if it's worth it. And you look like you are… and if there's one thing that doesn't lie, it's his Six Eyes.

"What if I am?" He smirks, and you feel the wind knocked out of your lungs, and you can't help the heat that travels to your face. How did one sentence affect you so much? You thought you were both hunters looking for prey, but with one look, he has you feeling like you are nothing but an easy target. You swallow the lump in your throat.

"What's wrong, sweetheart? Cat got your tongue?" He smirks at you before you blink the confusion out of your eyes. You immediately grab your drink and down it, hoping to give you some of your boldness back. He laughs as you down your glass and orders another. "Whoa, slow down there, hotshot."

You raise an eyebrow at him, the gears in your brain turning your mind-to-mouth filter off. "Those won't be the words coming out of your mouth tonight." You smirk.

At the moment, you wish you could have captured it. The way his eyes widened and darkened with arousal. Satoru didn't expect the spark he noticed in you was not just an ember but a full-on flame.

"Oh? Is that a promise?" He leans in closer, his face inches from yours, and you can smell his cologne.

"Hm. Maybe." You answer as your next drink arrives.

"Y'know, I never got your name." He whispers to your ear as you stare at your glass, trying to distract yourself more than anything. You slowly turn to him, meeting his eyes. Even in the dark, you can notice how luminous they are.

"Dance with me, and maybe I'll let you know."

You didn't have to say anything before he downs his beer and takes your hand towards the dance floor. The music comes and goes, and so did the both of you. You and this mysterious, handsome man alternate between dancing and drinking the night away. As time goes on, you get more and more drunk. The next thing you know, you were stumbling to the nearest hotel with him. The next couple of hours were a blur. All you know is the heat that trailed after his touches. The passionate kisses that were borderline bites all over your body. This man was unlike any other you've ever shared a night of passion with. He not only had the stamina, but he made sure that you felt every ounce of pleasure he was feeling. He was nothing short of amazing.

The morning creeps up too soon for your liking. The bed felt strange, and an unfamiliar warmth emanated from beside you. You rub your eyes with your hand when you hear a light snoring beside you. You struggle to open your eyes and can only guess you only have a few hours of sleep. When you finally open them, you see the man beside you. His face was peaceful, his breathing steady. Due to the dim lights, you couldn't notice it the night before, but he has the prettiest and longest lashes you've ever seen. So, it does match his hair… You thought like you haven't seen his—

He stirs. He reaches out to you and pulls you close, which catches you off guard. That's also when you realize that you two were skin-to-skin. It wasn't new, but sleeping beside such a gorgeous being made you conscious of yourself more than usual. You stay still for a few seconds until you feel him relax again. Exhaling a breath you didn't know you were holding, you unwrap his arm around you. You get out from under the covers and try to leave the bed quietly, picking up your clothes scattered around the room. There was a visible limp in your step. God, that man had you writhing under the palm of his hand all night, and it shows. Slowly, you tried to put your clothes back on, making yourself as presentable as possible. You turn to the en suite bathroom to wash your face and fix your hair. Walking was still uncomfortable but tolerable, and you gave the sleeping man in the bed an almost offensive side-eye.

"Fucking bastard with endless stamina." You curse under your breath with a shake of your head. You would be lying to yourself if you were to deny that last night was similar to an out-of-body experience. I'll outdo him next time, you thought, as a defeated laugh escaped you. The thought was wishful thinking as the chances of meeting this man are slim, and you probably won't meet him again. You walk and reach towards the door, opening it as quietly as you can before closing it behind you.

One ring.

Two rings.

Then another.

Gojo grumbles as the sound rouses him from his deep sleep. He stretched an arm to the other side of the bed, seeking warmth, but it was cold. Forcing his eyes open, he looked around the room but found no sign of his alluring companion.

Another ring brings him out of his reverie, and he sighs. He kicks the covers and hops out of bed, looking for his pants where his phone buzzed. He rummages through his pockets for the damned thing and sees Principal Yaga's name on the caller ID. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, he presses the answer button.

"Gojo speaking~." He says in a tone that will most likely annoy the older man.

"Satoru, where the hell are you?! You're late to the meeting. AGAIN. " His former sensei admonishes.

"Yes, yes, I know." Gojo scratches the back of his head sheepishly. "Gimme thirty minutes, and I'll be there." Yaga begins to argue about his attitude, but Gojo quickly ends that call. He drops his phone on the bed and sighs again.

Well, that's new. Gojo thinks to himself. That was the first time that he overslept on a one-night stand. Usually, he's the one who leaves the other person first. This was a first, even for him. He didn't want to admit it, but he slept comfortably beside that woman. He wonders internally if he'll ever find her again, but he doesn't dwell on it. The strongest doesn't dwell on the minuscule things... lest it leads to... other things. His musing is cut short as his phone buzzes. Another message from Principal Yaga.

I didn’t even get her name. He thinks, disappointedly, before he finally starts preparing for the meeting he was already late for.

The week after that felt familiar, other than the uncomfortable fact that you could still feel the consequences of your weekend escapades. Working on your studies that Monday felt like it took ages. Sure, the long hours kept you preoccupied, but you would be lying if your mind didn't wander to that gorgeous stranger you had a fun night with. It's a shame you couldn't get his name, but oh well. With your marriage arrangements finally official, meeting someone wouldn’t change a thing.

Another few weeks pass, another week of savoring the last year of your freedom before you get sold off to your fiance. By the following year, your whole life would be shifting. And that idea irks you. Your independence is closer to a sham, but at least it allows you to do whatever you want. You're guessing that after the wedding, both clans would demand that you two do your responsibilities of continuing the bloodline. You don't even love the man you're going to get married to! And they expect children from that?

I need a drink. You thought, massaging your temples as you looked over the school papers you were working on.

8:00 PM, the digital clock reads on your screen. It was still pretty early, but you felt the fatigue deep in your bones. God, you felt so tired. You stretch your back and briefly lean back on your chair before closing your eyes.

You don't remember how it happened, but you somehow ended up in your bed. In your exhaustion, you may have just crawled to your mattress. You were comfortable enough, but you could audibly hear someone else in the room with you. Blinking the sleep from your eyes, you realize two things. One, your wrists are bound above your head, secured by one large hand. And two, soft lips and warm hands trailing your upper body.

"What the—"

"Shhh..." He murmurs before kissing your neck. It took your eyes a couple of seconds to adjust to the dark before you could recognize the familiar white hair.

"How—? A-Ah, how did you find me?" You manage to ask as you feel his hand travel from your side to cup one of your breasts, and you tremble at the touch, just like that night. "I didn't even give you my name—"

"Mmm..." He hums, lips sucking at your skin. You were sure it'd leave a mark. "Call it luck, but I just had to find you."

At this point, his thumb started to brush over your hardened nipple, and you let out a gasp. "Ah! Wait—"

"Such pretty noises." He comments before his lips meet yours. His hand that was massaging your nipple, now ghosted over your skin as it traveled down your body, back arching toward his caresses unconsciously.

Apart from his touches, your brain is going haywire trying to understand how this nameless man had found you. You struggle to push his advances back as you lay down helpless. His kisses lingered, and everywhere he touched ignited a fire within you. He left you panting, wanting.

"Aww. Look at you... You're already a mess, baby. And I've barely done anything." He gives you a smirk as he lets go of your wrists. His large hands grab you by the hips, and he pulls you to him.

You squirm but don't retaliate anymore. The man before you groans at your unintended movement, and he uses it to his advantage. He rubs his erection against you, and you moan.

"Yeah? Tell me. Let me know how much you want me. Show me how much you missed me."

You wake with a jolt, almost falling from your chair. Your cheeks flushed, and you felt hot all over as your heart pounded in your chest. One sentence rang in your head as you tried to steady your breathing, "What the fuck was that?"

Gojo lounges in his office lazily. His mission was shorter than expected, the curse being a tad weaker than he thought it'd be, making him available for the rest of the day. He opens his phone and looks at the time. It was almost nighttime, and surprisingly, his schedule was free. Well, he had been taking more jobs recently to let off steam and due to this it was recommended (forced) that he take a break. On his way home, his mind wandered back to that night. He remembers how her hair was sprawled on the pillow, how loud her moans were, even the sting of her nails digging crescent moons on his back as she pulled him closer, deeper .

He didn’t want to admit it, but she was the first one who kept up with him all night, and the fact that she was the first one to leave the hotel was remarkable. Especially after all he put her through. He could have kept going in the morning but knew he shouldn't because of the way she was heaving and quivering by the end of the night. God, she was gorgeous, though. She looked so good as sweat dripped down her body, and how she responded to his body was heavenly.

He shakes his head lightly as he pockets his phone after changing. He rummages through the drawers of his room, looking for one of his casual sunglasses. He didn’t need to look at himself in the mirror to know he looked good. Instead he walked past it and the empty wall behind it. It wasn’t always empty. There used to be pictures and decorations but that was another time. He’s no longer that person anymore. He leaves the room without a second glance.

"Well, whatever." Shrugging, he begins walking out of his apartment and towards the nightclub where he met you. He then swaps his blindfold for his glasses, ruffling his hair down before he teleports away.

When Gojo arrived, there were a fair amount of people—groups of people on the dance floor, a series of bodies intertwining. Some are on the lounges, drinking, talking, or making out. He notices a free spot by the bar but not one sign of the familiar face he hoped to see. Sure, he could have easily tracked you down using his family connections, but the strongest jujutsu sorcerer doesn't chase after women; women would beg to crawl into his bed every time.

He takes one of the barstools and sits. He doesn't drink alcohol often, so he orders his usual beer. It doesn't take long before his order arrives, and he takes a tentative sip before scanning the crowd again. Still, no sign of her.

Well, it doesn't matter if she's not here. There's always another. And Gojo was right. Not long after, a woman begins to walk towards him. He didn't need to, but he lowered his glasses down his nose to "take a good look" at her. He gave her a tilt of his head, and the way she smiled at him was all the sign he needed. It was always way too easy.

The case that you studied today dragged on longer than you liked. It was a difficult one that you had to pull unexpected extra hours of research, and you were rushing home to be able to change for your usual nightly shenanigans. Decided to go to a more casual bar this time as you didn't really have time to doll yourself up much, and seeing as to how stressed you are about your studies, you just wanted to let off some steam. You get out of your clothes as soon as possible, shower, put on one of your casual dresses from your closet, and bolt out of the house. As much as you didn't like yourself turning into an alcoholic, with your situation? Sometimes, a drink is all that makes you forget.

Even though it's the weekend, only a couple groups of people are in the bar. A few played tabletop games, and a couple sat on the lounges and listened to the live band. The atmosphere was just what you needed after a hard day's work. You approach the bar with plans to drink the night away.

Gojo saunters towards the bar a couple minutes after you. He surprisingly had the weekend off again. Apparently, he didn't notice that he was going on a rampage against the curses all over the city. A blessing and a curse, as per Principal Yaga. As much as he appreciates it, he doesn't want Gojo to overwork himself. He already upholds most of the jujutsu society, so he had him take the weekend off.

It was just an impulsive decision to come here. Gojo doesn't drink that often, and after last time's failed attempt to find that woman, he wasn't hopeful. He sighs as he enters the bar, eyes downcast, and he plans to stay here for a couple hours before switching to his usual nightclub. Music was already playing over the speakers, and he could hear a group cheering over some games; that's when he looked up and spotted a familiar silhouette by the bar. Any other person would doubt their eyes due to the dim lights, but unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on how one looks at it), he was blessed with keen eyes in his case. His strides become more confident as he approaches the bar. He sits beside you, seeing the same drink you had the first time you met.

"Why's a sweet girl drinking such a sour drink?" Your head turns almost immediately to the familiar question. "Yo~!" He gives you a playful wave of a hand and a wink as he gains your attention. "Mister, give me a beer and another of whatever she’s having." He says before turning to you. "My treat."

You raise an eyebrow at the man before you. It's him again. "Well, if it's on your tab, I'll get some wine instead." You smirk at him.

"I see we're feeling fancy tonight," a devilish smile on his lips, "Mister! Scratch my first order. Give me a bottle of your finest wine." He remarks as he grabs the bottle and two glasses the bartender slides towards him. "Why don't we take this to a table instead? Care to join me?"

"As long as you keep supplying the alcohol," you laugh as you follow his lead.

Gojo leads you to one of the empty tables and kicks the chair instead of pulling it for you since both of his hands are occupied. You shake your head at the gesture but appreciate it anyway. He pours you a drink setting the wind down, and you mutter thanks under your breath.

You grab the bottle and pour him a glass, as well. "So, what brought you here tonight?" He asks, breaking the silence. You look at him for a few seconds before shaking your head no. You take a gulp of wine, and the man before you chuckles as he watches.

"That bad you don't even want to share, huh? Alright, keep your secrets," he says with a smirk before taking a sip from his own glass.

You sit there in silence before he breaks the ice again. "You come here often?"

"After a stressful day at school? Absolutely." You scoff, swirling the drink in your hand.

"Hmm..." He raises an eyebrow at you.

"Enough about me." You wave him off before he can even ask another question. "What brought you here tonight?"

"I usually hit the bars first before I—" He cuts himself off. Before I go to the nightclub and find a woman to bed tonight.

"What? Say it, where are you going?" You challenge.

"Nah, nothing important. And, no place is as interesting as here right now." He smirks, and it almost makes you blush. "But I digress. What's got you drinking so much this late in the evening?"

You give off a sound between a scoff and a laugh. "What is this? 21 questions?"

A mischievous grin spreads at that thought. "You know, that's not a bad suggestion." He comments. "But maybe we could switch the wine for some harder liquor for that. What do you think?"

"I'm not saying no to a free drink." You shrug as you finish your glass of wine. He smirks and gestures to order a bottle of shochu.

"Alright, you can start since you didn't answer my first question." He gives you a mock pout, and you can only laugh at him.

"That's very kind of you." You tell him as you start thinking about what questions to ask this mysterious man. "Okay, I got one."

"Shoot."

"What's the worst date you've ever been on?"

"Never been on one." And you look at him with disbelief. "No one wants to hang out long enough for that. It's always the bedroom." He shrugs.

"No fucking way. How the hell have you not been on dates?" With that face and all. But you keep that last thought to yourself.

"Hey, you only get one question. Drink." And so you drink a shot, the burning sensation of the alcohol lingering in your throat. "My turn." It takes him a few seconds before he asks, "Are you a cat person, a dog person, or something else?"

"Definitely a cat person. Not that I ever had one."

"Really? I thought you'd be a dog person."

"Ah, ah, my turn now." He gestures for you to continue. "What do you do for work?" Without hesitation, he drinks, and you give him a sideways glance. "Alright, keep your secrets then. " You tell him as he chuckles.

"Do you like coffee or tea better?" He shoots you his next question.

"Coffee, the more bitter it is, the better. And you?"

"Tea, but very sweet."

"I never thought you to have a sweet tooth." You remark as he shrugs once again.

"My turn. Why are you single? Or at least I'm guessing you are..."

Well, that's a no-brainer. You mentally thought before taking a shot.

"Alright,” he lets out a laugh at how quickly you avoided that question, “Moving on then." He comments as he braces himself to be asked the same thing, but the question never comes. Instead, he finds you deep in thought for your next question. Huh.

"What's your love language?"

"Hmm..." He takes a second to think. "I'm not too sure."

You gesture to his glass. "You gotta drink." And so he does, and you watch as he downs a shot, eyes wandering to his throat as his Adam's apple bobs as he drinks.

He sets down his glass and pours you another. "Alright, my next question... What are you most proud of yourself for?"

Gojo's watchful eyes fell on you as you answered the question silently and drank without reluctance, the alcohol going down smoothly now that you've had a couple shots. You came here tonight to rid yourself of your problems, not to think of them.

"Oh, it's like that then."

"Shh. My turn." You shush him as you pour him another. "Have you ever had your heart broken?"

He drinks, and you mockingly scoff at him. "Are we just going to avoid all the difficult questions then?"

He smirks at you as he finishes his glass. "Double question~." He says in an almost sing-song manner as he pours you another shot, motioning for you to drink. You purse your lips together in mock irritation before drinking anyway.

"My turn again." He says as he pointedly looks at you. "How do you like to spend your free time? Or rather, what's a perfect day for you?"

You think long and hard about your answer. Given your situation, your home life could be better. You've never known "normal," even as a kid, not when you were raised as your family's pawn. You sigh before you drink. Again.

"You gotta be kidding." He looks at you inquisitively. "There's no way you don't know what a perfect day is for you... Do you mean to say our little night of mischief a couple weeks ago wasn't ideal for you?"

You shake your head with a chuckle but don't say anything. Sure, you usually end up in other men's beds during your nightly adventures, but it's not really something you would consider perfect. You gesture to his glass. "Double question. Drink."

He puts his hands up in surrender before downing another shot. You can feel that the drinks are starting to affect you, and you feel lightheaded, but in a way that you don't remember why you were drinking in the first place. It was like the first day you met him. He made it easy to forget everything other than the now. You internally thank fate for this mysterious white-haired man with pretty blue eyes who kept you company. Ah.

"What's your favorite thing about yourself?" You blurt the question after that line of thought.

He laughs heartily. "My face." He says without any doubt, which makes you look at him in disdain. "What? At least it gets me laid." He adds as he wiggles his eyebrows at you with the same boyish smile you remember from your first meeting. The same smile he gave you in your fever dream of him, the smile that hinted that he was up to no good. Oh god... You look away, but you know it is too late. You felt your cheeks heat up, your eyes widening as if you were a child caught stealing candy from a jar. "Oh! So you agree!" He notes with such excitement, trying to steal a look at your face as you look away.

"Oh, shut up!" You pushed him away, but really, it was understandable.

"Aww, you're no fun~" He sounds sulking but settles down before asking his next question. "Fine. My question. Where would you go if you could go anywhere?"

That makes you pause and consider. "I'm not sure. I've never really thought about that. I've never been too far out of the city." Not with your family holding you by the neck.

"Tsk tsk," he waves an admonishing finger at you, "drink. That's such an ambiguous answer."

You fidget with your glass before you down your shot. You can barely feel the aftertaste of the alcohol with how much you have drunk. "My turn. Who is the most important person in your life?"

With no hesitation, he drinks.

You look at him in a bit of a shock. His eyes look somewhat distant than it was a second ago. "We should probably start hitting the harder stuff, huh?" You suggest as you try to reel him back to reality.

"Agreed. Especially if you keep asking these types of questions..." He shakes his head with a defeated laugh. Shortly, he stood up and ordered another bottle of drinks from the bartender. As he approaches, you recognize the bottle of whisky in his hands.

Well then.

He opens the bottle and pours you a glass before settling down in his chair again. "Oh! I got a good one."

"Go for it."

"Have you ever cheated on anything or anyone?"

You take a second to think. You think about your marriage arrangements... Is it still considered cheating when you've never been with your fiance? You don't even have that kind of feelings for each other. Ah, shit. Internally, you erase the thoughts as quickly as they came and drink instead.

He gives you a sideways glance. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Stop asking double questions. Drink." You scold him with a subtle slap on his arm. "But to be fair, that's karma for the last question." He rolls his eyes playfully as he downs another shot.

You lean into the table as you hold your glass in your hand, trying to get a good look at this mysterious stranger's face before presenting your next question. "What would you change if you could go back in time and do something differently?"

A look of sentimentality bleeds into his eyes, and Gojo briefly thinks of Amanai. There wasn't a mission after that where he didn't think of how much better he could have handled things. Okay, nope, not tonight. "You're asking some real tough ones, huh? But unfortunately for you, I'm not answering that either." He says before taking a swig.

"Whatever." You say with a laugh and drink with him anyway as the alcohol starts to cloud your mind.

"Have you ever failed at something?" He asks, swirling the drink in his glass.

Not even a split second later, you find yourself chugging your drink. You think about your situation, and even though you have your current freedom, your family still controls most of your life. Well, it's not that you failed to get your liberty entirely. Still, you didn't succeed either... and you don't plan on elaborating on that tonight. Meanwhile, Shoko and Geto's faces flash before Gojo’s mind, and he finds himself drinking after you on the same question he asks. The drinks even hit harder on your next question.

"Have you ever made a promise that you didn't keep?" You ask him just out of curiosity. He doesn't say anything and feigns a laugh. He sure is thinking about the past a lot tonight. It takes him a second to down his shot, the questions getting more instinctive than the first few.

"Who in your life most makes you feel a sense of home?" He throws you back a question just as quickly. You reflect on it. Your childhood flashed at the back of your mind. It wasn't a welcome memory. Sure, you were given all your necessities, but that was all. It could have been better. And right now? You don't think there's a place you call home. You drink a mouthful of your drink as it is easier to swallow than explain that in detail.

"Do you believe in soulmates?" You blurt out almost spontaneously. He opens his mouth to answer but stops before the words leave his lips. Instead, he reaches out for his glass and drinks. You give him a once-over, and his question follows not even a second later.

"Do you believe in second chances?" He asks.

"Hmm... That depends..." You rest your cheek against the palm of your hand. "You know what, never mind." You add, before drinking. Surprisingly, he takes a drink with you.

You wipe your lips with your thumb before asking him your next question. "Have you ever changed your mind about something you were once sure about?"

The back of a particular black-haired man flashes again at the back of his mind. Ah, fuck it. Satoru internally cusses before grabbing the bottle and chugging it. As he places the bottle back on the table, you smirk. You take it from his hand before taking a swig. So many questions. So many drinks. And both of you were just being tight-lipped now.

"Alright, last one." He smirks right back before leaning into you. "What's your name?"

You peek at him from under your lashes before intertwining your hand with his. "I got something more interesting for you." You remark as you stand up from the table, dragging him out of the bar.

He smirks at you, knowing. He wanted to bury his memories; he knew you could help him with that.

Unlike last time, this time you ended up in the first-class district of the city, courtesy of this white-haired man. You may not know his name, but one could think he’s filthy rich. Being able to book such a luxurious hotel in this part of the city on a whim. You should have known better about following rich men around this part of town, but here you are, cuddled up to his side as his fingers traced circles on your skin.

Gojo keeps himself awake this time, feeling your warmth against his body. Everything felt... perfect. And that felt weird. Nothing felt right since that incident in his life, so why was he feeling this way now? He leans into you, letting go of his initial thoughts as his cheek settles on your head, inhaling your scent with a smile. You smelled like cherry blossoms in full bloom. The calm before the storm that's called his life. The sense of normality. He hated to admit it, but maybe he was hoping to see a glimpse of you anywhere because you brought this sense of peace to him. Only one word could describe what he is feeling right now: satisfied.

"Hey? You still with me?" He murmurs, and he feels you nod against his side. Another surprise. Usually, the women he beds wouldn't be able to keep up with him, but if the first time you met wasn't much of a hint that you were different already, this confirms that. "I'm surprised you're still awake."

"Mm... barely." You say with a slight giggle. You can feel yourself slowly drifting to sleep.

"Then sleep." He slaps your arm playfully, chuckling after you. "You deserve that much." He remarks, turning to his side before he pulls you close to his chest and sighs contentedly.

Another month passes in the blink of an eye. Your mind wanders as you take a pause from working on your paperwork. It was a weekend, but after that last meeting with your tall, silver-haired friend, you haven't had the chance to go clubbing recently. Every case you handled the past month took it out of you, making you crash and sleep whenever you had the opportunity. You wonder where he is now after you left him in the hotel. Now that you think about it, you've already done that twice, never leaving him anything. He probably won't pay attention to me again if we ever see each other. You thought disappointedly before taking a sip of your coffee.

You sigh as you turn your attention to your surroundings. The cafe is quiet except for a few people. It's one of the few places you love in this cursed city. You love the brewed coffee here, and it is your go-to whenever you have to motivate yourself to work on weekends. You switch your focus on the pile of documents you have to review on your table. You are making progress, no matter how small, but it felt like you weren't doing enough, not even when you've been pulling all-nighters. You sigh at the thought.

"Ah! It's you!" A familiar voice exclaimed, and you turned towards the sound and blinked at the figure you saw. The friendly white-haired man trotted towards you with visible happiness before settling on the chair across you. He's right before you, but you refuse to believe it. He was wearing a dark, zip-up-looking jacket with a high and wide collar and pants of the same color, his signature sunglasses surprisingly absent. His hair and those blue eyes look even more vibrant with his outfit—

"What? Cat got your tongue?" He smirks. You recall that callback from when you were caught staring at him. And you're doing it again. With that, you are brought back from your reverie.

You shake your head lightly, blinking your eyes from your daze. He's really here. Weirdly, fate makes you two meet whenever and wherever. "What are you doing here?"

He shows you the bag of kikufuku he had brought from a popular store you recognize. Now you remember that night you were playing 21 questions—almost what? A month ago now? "Ah. Sweets, of course."

"I was in the area while... doing some stuff for work." He states. "And for your information, before you start accusing me like everybody else, I'm not slacking off either. I just finished early." He says almost too proudly. You now also remember that he didn't elaborate on his line of work. And with his outfit? It didn't stand out enough to be recognized.

"I see." You shot him a look of suspicion and curiosity as you grabbed your iced coffee from the table to take a sip. He glances at your current work desk. His pretty eyes darted from the strewed papers everywhere and the few books and notebooks that were open on specific pages before returning to your face.

"Law school?" He gives you an inquisitive look.

"Yeah."

"Hmm. That explains your drinking habits." He remarks with a laugh.

"Oh, shut up. I needed to let off steam." You wave him off.

"And let off steam, you did." He gives you an enticing look, and you lowkey feel the heat travel to your face. You furrow your brow and bite your lip as you look away. "Aww, don't be shy now. You and I know we both enjoyed those nights."

That you cannot deny.

"What? Are you suggesting that we make this a regular thing?" You joke, trying to at least take control of a little bit of the conversation.

"Your words, not mine." He smirks. The bastard.

You narrow your eyes at him, though his smug look doesn't even melt for a second. So, you decide to play his game. "Well, third time's the charm?"

His smile becomes more expansive as he leans in, taking his phone from his pockets and sliding it across the table. "Give me your number then."

You roll your eyes playfully as you let out an exasperated sigh. You take this man's phone anyway and tap your contact info away. As soon as you were done, you handed him back his phone, fingertips grazing his large palm.

"L/N Y/N, huh?" He says, reading your name out loud. It was the first time you've ever heard your name sound so sweet upon another person's lips it was almost intoxicating. You nod silently as he starts typing away on his phone. A few moments later, your phone buzzes in your pocket. You take it out to check.

From: Unknown Sender

Gojo, Satoru sent you his contact info

“Gojo?” The surname sounded very familiar but you couldn’t put a finger on it right now.

“Yep. That’s me. But please, call me Satoru. It’s finally nice to meet you, Y/N.”

You have your nose stuck in a book that Monday after your classes. A research paper was due in the next couple of weeks, and you were trying your best to focus on getting your shit done earlier than the deadline to be able to review your work. It was barely the start of the week, but you couldn't wait for the weekend for many reasons.

When you met at the cafe, you and Satoru agreed that you could meet on weekends only if both of your schedules permit. Keyword: If.

"I'm not promising anything, but I'll try. Things might get busy now and then, and I might have to work on my papers on the weekends, too." You can hear yourself say to him as you sip your coffee.

"I don't mind that. At least I can get in touch with you now, unlike before when I'm just relying on chance on when I'll meet you and where." He shrugs as he eats the second slice of the cake he ordered. Good god, what a sweet tooth.

"Hey, I'm serious." You furrow your brows at him. "I can't make this a ‘normal’ regular thing," you tell him, "so don't expect much—"

"Ah, ah. Don't even worry about it." He waves off your concern. "I wouldn't even consider giving you my number if I wasn't amenable to adjustments."

Satoru has been texting you for the past two days. Asking you about your day or what you have been up to. You have been at the back of his mind, and he's been struggling not to let it have a more physical effect on him. But to his dismay, he was more hung up than he thought.

It was the evening of Sunday after you met him when he lay awake in his bed. It could be more accurate to say that he couldn't sleep as he tossed and turned in his bed uncomfortably.

"Fuck." He huffs, covering his eyes with his arm, restless as he lays on his back. He peeks at his crotch, wincing as he sees his stiff erection. For what fucking reason was he feeling this way? He doesn't know, but thoughts of you swirled around his mind endlessly, how your hands would look so dainty, held by his big ones as his other hand travels all over your body. How your scent lingered on the bed as it did the last time you slept in a bed together, how his lips would feel against your smooth, supple skin.

This shit is not helping. Satoru thought to himself, sitting up. He reaches out for his phone on his nightstand. He stood up, pulling his pants to peek from under it. It was so bad he was leaking. An intrusive thought flits through his brain, and he smirks. He takes his phone to snap a photo before tapping a message.

To: Y/N

*You sent a photo*

Thinking of you tonight. I hope you sleep tight~ Coz I know I won't.

The moment you saw that picture, you almost dropped your phone with a squeak. Now that you're sober, you realize how massive Satoru is. No fucking wonder he got you limping that first time you slept together. The sentiment makes you take a sharp inhale of breath, putting your palms together as they start to sweat. Insufferable. But it was your type of "insufferable" not that you’d openly admit to that.

Back to the present, you try to distract yourself with your notes. A few students were littered all over the library, but overall, it was quiet. Well, other than your heavy breathing, probably. A few minutes pass, and you try to bury yourself in your papers, attempting to forget about the photo incident. Your phone buzzes a few moments later.

From: Satoru

What are you up to?

To: Satoru

School stuff. I'm at the uni library.

From: Satoru

Boring stuff?

To: Satoru

Yeah. What about you?

From: Satoru

Working. I'm in the suburbs of Tokyo. Hopefully, it doesn’t take long.

To: Satoru

Good luck.

From: Satoru

Are you sure I can't see you any time earlier this week?

You bite your lip. Heavens, you would love to see him, too, but your busy schedule said otherwise. You would kill for a break from your academics, but the deadline for your research paper is fast approaching, and you can’t afford any distractions.

To: Satoru

You know I can’t… Not right now.

You sigh as you press send. You thought that would end the conversation for now, but you were wrong.

From: Satoru

Aww, c’mon, babe. I’ll make it worth your while~

You can almost hear the lilt of Satoru’s voice through the text message, the playful tilt of his head, and the smirk plastered on those pretty lips. You try to erase the image of him before typing your reply.

To: Satoru

No.

I’ll let you know if my schedule changes.

Sent. This time, instead of pocketing your phone, you opt to put it in your bag, away from you, so that you won’t know when Satoru replies… because if the last message he sent you was any hint, you know he definitely will.

For the rest of the afternoon, you worked non-stop, only taking pauses in between to take bites of the snacks you bought. I should get some real food after this, you thought. You made some progress, much to your satisfaction; not enough to be ahead, but progress nonetheless. As the day ended, you wanted to reward yourself a little, hoping to be as motivated again for the next day. You gathered your things and started to pack your stuff when you caught a glimpse of your phone in your bag. You grab to check it, curious if Satoru replied to your last text.

From: Satoru

Oh, believe me, it will.

You don’t hear from Satoru after that last message. Not a text or call in sight. Alright then, you thought, but you didn’t dwell on it. You have more important things on your plate right now. You can take care of Satoru on the weekend. You continue to work on your papers until late evening, until your phone beeps. The blue-eyed man’s name was splashed on the screen, and the preview only showed an attachment instead of the usual text message. You furrow your brow, intrigued as you pick it up. What is he up to this time?

From: Satoru

*Satoru sent an attachment*

This is what you do to me.

The video starts dark like the camera was face down on something. There's a slight rustling in the background before the view clears. Satoru's face comes into view, flushed, and he is biting onto what looks like his shirt, exposing his upper chest. His pristine white bangs stuck to his forehead as sweat glistened on his skin. You can hear something from the background, too. Something rhythmic, something... wet. Your brows furrow as you fail to comprehend what that was until the camera turns black again for a split second before you see the same sight you saw in the photo he sent a couple days ago. Only this time, he has his fist around his cock. His movements were slow and deliberate. Hushed moans escaped his lips every once in a while. Your eyes widened, and your jaw fell slack at what this man had sent you, but at the same time, you couldn't take your eyes away from the video.

"This is what you do to me."

The statement rang in your mind, loud and clear, making you lick your lips. All of a sudden, you feel parched as hell. The video continued to play, and your eyes darted from one detail to another. How big he was, the vein that ran around his length, how slick he was as he fucked his hand. You squirm unconsciously in your seat.

"Fuck..." The curse trails off from his lips. "Maybe I shouldn't be thinking of your body too much." Satoru's voice had an audible quiver as his movements never faltered. "But hey, I'm letting nature take its course... and leave you with a little preview of what you can expect over the weekend if your schedule remains unchanged." You note a tinge of sarcasm in his tone. He's still trying to persuade you, it seems.

The silence drags on for a couple seconds before his voice returns. "I know you are as excited as I am for the weekend. You just hide it well." He lets out an arrogant laugh. "I want to feel you squirming under me. Your body, sprawled on the bed, slick and ready for me... Have I ever told you how much you fit me just right?" He continues as he teases his tip with a thumb, and you notice his legs tremble a bit from the stimulation. Oh, he's so sensitive.

" I wanted to be on top of you again. Kissing you. Biting you. Marking you as mine." He rambles on. "I can almost feel your fingers pulling at my hair, trailing down my shoulders, your nails scraping my back."

"I'd hook my thumb under your chin, tipping your head back, giving me access to that pretty neck of yours." He takes a sharp inhale, his breath hitching. "I want my tongue on your skin, tasting your sweat. God, you make me so fucking hard, baby... But I'm not in any rush. Especially since I won't taste you until the weekend, right? I gotta slow down and stroke slow." He laughs, but there is a noticeable tremble in his voice this time. "Savor every last bit since you're out here starving me." You can almost see the teasing smirk on his face.

He was true to his word, though. His strokes never stuttered. It was the same unhurried pace. Only his moans filled the air, coming and going as you excitedly eyed what he'd do or say next.

"My kisses would move lower, down your body, slowly." His voice deepening. "Down the hollow of your throat, your collarbone, then to your chest. My hands would linger over your perky breasts, fondling them, giving them what they deserve, what you deserve."

"God, what would I do to worship your body right now." He says through gritted teeth. "I'd press myself down onto you. Legs intertwining as I grind my cock against your thigh."

You notice his pace quicken before he speaks again. "I can almost feel your hands move down my body. From my chest, trailing down my hips before squeezing me at the base." He groans. "Mm, it's gonna be hard to take my time once I see you over the weekend, babe."

"Fuck, I want you. Now. I want to feel you tightening around me. Me, bucking into you as you close your eyes and your mouth falls open, moaning my name." He blabbers on. "Your nails leaving trails on my back. Your hair would be a mess. And speaking of messes," he says as he taps a finger against his tip and a string of pre-cum stuck to his fingertip as he moves it away, "I'm already making one right here, just for you."

His breathing was starting to get erratic. The way he was holding the phone was also getting more and more unsteady as it blurred with each stroke. "Maybe... maybe hold your wrists against the bed," he says, "leave you writhing as I try and find out all of your weak spots. You'd pull me against you, squeezing your legs around me."

The camera adjusts as you can almost feel how hot he must be from just watching. "And I'll, uh, I'll, uhm, I'll lean down," he starts to stutter, "slide two fingers into your mouth, tell you to suck as I kiss down your neck and grind down against you."

His pace quickens once again, his strokes getting more erratic than calculated. "We'd both be dripping wet. Push my fingers deeper, telling you to swirl your tongue around them. Fuck... Then I'll pull them out of your mouth, slick with your spit. I'd trail it down, down, down your body before ending up in between your legs. Press my wet fingers against you before pushing slow and deep, letting you ride my hand."

Another sharp breath is heard in the video. "Fuck, I'll slide down between your legs, wanting to bury my face into you. I'd slide my tongue to replace my fingers, eating you up. Oh god, I'd eat you out so good." He moans, his voice changing into a deeper pitch, sounding something closer to a whine, if you were being honest. "I can't even fucking think straight. The only thing left in my head is you. Oh fuck... Your taste. Your scent. Your tight heat. Your thighs squeezing my head. I'd want your hands on my hair, guiding me deeper into you. Oh, I’d love to use you to get off. I just want all of you… and I know you’d want all of me, too. Oh fuck... I'd— I'd let you cum with my mouth on you. Fuck... Oh, goddamn it. Oh fuck, Y/N. I need you—" His rambles were cut short as he came, ropes of cum spilling over his hand. He continues to stroke himself a little more, riding the high until the very last moment.

"Oh fucking hell..." He laughs nervously before switching to the front-facing camera with his free hand. His face was flushed, his shoulders heaving. "I can't wait for the weekend, baby. Then I'll show you how badly I've missed you in person." He snickers at the camera before taking a deep breath, trying to steady his breathing. "Fuck... I'll talk to you later. Bye, babe."

The video ends... but you feel hot all over. He came with your name on his lips. You didn't even realize how hard you were gripping your PJs. Your knuckles were white, and your breathing was uneven. God, this man's promiscuity knows no bounds, you thought as you took a deep breath before typing a reply.

To: Satoru

Meet me tomorrow.

Satoru goes about his day with renewed enthusiasm. From the perspective of his other colleagues, it was almost creepy. The Six Eye user was always known for his happy-go-lucky attitude, but they can tell there's something... different. He smiled smugly, thinking how he quickly got you with the hook, line, and sinker. Ever since he was little, it was easy to get his way; it was always that way. He may have matured over the years, but living life where you're considered an anomaly in the jujutsu world gives a person a sense of pride. The hum of the car engine was steady as he went through the city streets. It was a rare occurrence that he had to drive himself around. As much as it could be funny to let Ijichi fetch and drop you both at the hotel, he thought he'd spare the man some mercy today. Satoru only drives a little as the managers (mostly Ijichi) do that for him for missions, but today's an exception.

Lights flickered on in his vision as he passed them by. The sun was setting, and people finally heading home from school or work littered the streets as he leisurely tapped a finger on the steering wheel to the beat of a nameless song playing over the speakers. He wore his usual work clothes, the same old zip-up long sleeves, but he ditched the blindfold for the more normal round sunglasses. As much as he wanted to change into comfier clothes, he didn't have enough time. Doesn't matter. It's not like the clothes will stay for that long anyway , he thought with a smirk as he pulled up on the street of your university. He parks near the entrance and gets out of the car. He leans against it, takes out his phone, and taps you a message.

To: Y/N

I'm here by the entrance.

People who passed him spoke in hushed whispers, curious about who this stunning man was waiting for, but he paid them no mind. Nobody came close compared to you... Well, right now, anyway. Anticipation bubbled in his stomach, and he couldn't wait to get his hands on you. Oh, the things he'd do to you tonight. He pockets his phone back, closes his eyes, and lets the early evening breeze ruffle his hair.

"I'm sorry I'm late—" A familiar voice approached him, and his eyes immediately snapped toward the sound. You looked like you just ran a marathon to get to him. "Class dragged on and—?!"

Satoru hooks an arm around your waist, pulling you close, kissing you without warning. Your eyes widen as you try to push him away, but that only encourages him, and he deepens the kiss, holding your face steady as he does so. A moment later, you both come up for air. You could feel your warm cheeks, and you felt like your mind was melting.

"Satoru..." You say his name, breathless. "Not here." You scold him, but really, it was a half-hearted effort. He says nothing but lets you go just enough to open the car door for you, hand still lingering on your hip.

"After you," he gestures, and you bite your lip before getting in. He follows suit shortly after, going around and getting in the driver's seat. Not even a moment later, he leans in, his large hands cup your cheek again, and leans in for another kiss. A kiss that could easily have you jumping over to his lap—

"Satoru," you call his name when he lets you go, "we can do it here, but decorum says we shouldn't. " You tell him before he sighs in surrender.

"Fine." He rolls his eyes playfully. Not today… but maybe someday. He smirks at the thought as he starts the car. He keeps a hand on your thighs throughout the drive. His fingers caressed you in ways that had your imagination running wild. At some point, you had to hold his hand in both of yours just to keep your desires (and sanity) in check.

You both make it to one of the luxury hotels downtown. You are in disbelief. Every instance you slept with this man, he has taken you to different fancy hotels. Mind you, the other two occasions were spontaneous decisions, further proving that he either has a high-paying job or he's from a very wealthy family. In conclusion, he's rich as fuck. He stops by the hotel entrance, gets out of the car, and goes around to open the door for you. As you both enter the hotel lobby, he lets the valet take care of the car. The room was spacious; lounges were scattered along the hall's walls, and a few people with fancy outfits walked past occasionally. You felt out of place with your casual clothes, but at least you weren't the only one. Satoru kept his arm around your hip, making you struggle to keep up with his long strides. He pulls you close, breath caressing your ears, "I sure hope you're not having second thoughts." He teased before giving your ear a nibble as you approached the front desk. You let out a hushed gasp as you try to push him away, but the effort only makes him chuckle. Your eyes dart around. Nobody seemed to be paying attention to you other than the clerk squinting at you judgingly, making your cheeks flush.

"Good evening. Do you have a reservation?" She mutters monotonously. She eyes you from head to toe. What's her problem?

"Ah, yes." Satoru chimes in a little too enthusiastically. "It's under my name. Gojo Satoru."

For the next few seconds, the woman taps away at her keyboard. "The penthouse suite, correct?"

"Yep. Nothing but the best." He smiles before hooking a finger under your chin, making you look at him before his lips meet yours. Your hands clutch at his clothes instinctively. You hear the front desk clerk sigh disapprovingly as if saying, "Get a room," or, in this case, "Wait for your room."

Satoru doesn't seem to notice or care for the matter. He smiles at her cluelessly after kissing you as you both wait to be checked in. He was handed the keycard shortly after before he started guiding you towards the elevator.

Two things happened as the doors closed. One, the tall man corners you at the far end of the elevator. Two, his leg slipped between yours as he cupped your face, crashing his lips against you again, this time more passionately. More hungrily. His large hands fiddled around the edges of your blouse, fingers slipping underneath, making you shudder. His carefree demeanor suddenly disappeared into thin air, catching you off guard. Your mind clouded as his tongue found yours, and you couldn't help the soft whimper that escaped your lips. He unexpectedly breaks the kiss, and you suddenly find yourself stumbling towards him, trying to chase after his lips. He smirks, waving an admonishing finger toward you.

"Greedy."

"Me?" You look at him, confused. "You were the one that couldn't wait." You shot back as the elevator dings.

He only gives you the same signature smirk before dragging you out of the elevator towards your suite. He taps the keycard on the door, and as soon as it clicks open, he pulls you inside. The door slams shut from the outside world. It's only you and him now, no more, no less. The thought alone makes him let go of his other inhibitions. He backs you to the doorframe, caging you in with his arms. He stares at you, eyes hungry with want, making you look away, feeling a tad too self-conscious.

"Don't look away." He tells you. He cups your cheek, making you look up at the tall man. Your breath hitches at your throat as he kisses you again. Whimpers escape your small frame as his other hand continues its interrupted tour under your top. He only releases your lips as he slowly peels your blouse off, exposing you to the room's cool air. He devours all your sounds, tongues intertwining as your hands slowly and instinctively find the back of his neck, trying to further deepen the kiss. After a fleeting moment, his other hand moves to your back, unhooking your bra easily. Your hand moves to his zip-up jacket in return, unzipping the thing impatiently and slipping it off him. His smooth immaculate skin shouldn't have been a surprise, but damn, his chiseled abs, lean muscular arms; his body is a work of art. Your mouth waters at the sight, but he doesn't give you any time to process that information further as he grabs you by the wrist and turns you around. You brace yourself with the palms of your hands and bend down just a little without even thinking, grinding against him.

He pauses, making you look hurriedly at the man behind you. "I'm so glad I'm not the only one feeling impatient." He remarks before you feel his hand fiddle around the button of your pants. His skillful fingers only take a second before he's unbuttoning and unzipping your pants. He slowly slides it down your legs, and you step out of it when it lands on the floor. Kisses snake up your legs and thighs before he spreads your folds with his thumbs. You feel his hot breath against your cunt, watching as it starts dripping . He barely did anything to you, yet you are already a mess. He gives it a kiss. Then, a lap of a tongue. You gasp at the sudden motion, and he grins. He's tempted to eat you out, but there will be other chances. For now, he needs you. He needs to be inside you. He slowly stood, trailing kisses along your lower back and shoulders before ending at the back of your ear. With the way he leaned against you, his erection was grinding at you deliciously, promising the pleasure that was about to come. He teases your clit with two fingers, making you arch your back at his movements.

"Fuck, baby. You sound even prettier than I imagined," he whispers. "All those pretty moans, all for me. Did you moan like this when I sent you that video earlier this week?" He asks as his free hand, the one caging you by the doorway, moves as you hear the rustle of his pants as he tries to undo them. Satoru's cock springs free, and he wraps a hand around his base, starting to stroke himself. God, he can't wait to be inside you.

"S-Satoru." Your voice quivers as he rubs you relentlessly. "Fuck... Mmm, so good..!"

And that's what pushes him over. Hearing his name come out of your delicate mouth. He lets out a sharp breath, almost a hiss, as he pulls his fingers away. "Fucking hell." He curses as he hastily aligns his cock against your entrance. "You ready for me, babe?" He asks as he rubs the tip against your leaking cunt. "Heh, I think your pussy can answer for you, huh?"

His movements were electrifying, making your skin prickle with anticipation. "Sa-Satoru~," you whine, "stop... stop teasing..!"

"Tell me what you want then." His voice is condescending. His tip barely slipped inside you, making you feel even more deprived. "Tell me how much you want me, need me ."

"Fuck, Satoru..! I need you. I need you inside me. Please..!" The whines that escaped your lips were almost automatic. He smirks, realizing how much he has you wrapped around his finger.

"Hm? You gotta be more specific, baby." He taunts, rubbing his length between your thighs, making you dig your teeth into your bottom lip. "Tell me what you want."

The sounds of your mewls mingled with the sloppy sounds between your legs made your head spin. "Fuck, baby, please. I need... I need your cock. I need it— Ah!" Not even a moment later, he pushed into you, gripping your hips so hard you think it'll bruise. Your face contorts in pleasure at the sudden penetration. He takes it so achingly slow, your mind blanks and you can't even discern whether or not you want him to go further into you. You may have been drunk the first two times you've fucked, but you remember this feeling of fullness. The photo and the video were proof of that, too. But now that you're sober, your brain is short-circuiting at how big he is. He reached places you couldn't with your hands or toys, making your toes curl.

"You like that, babe?" He taunts you, pulling back a little, then pushing back in. Giving you something, but you need more. You dig your teeth into your lower lip, suppressing your whines. When he is met with silence, he pulls back all the way back before slamming back into you. The gasp you let out sounded so sinful it went straight to his dick. He groans at the way you are already clenching around him. "You can keep quiet all you want, but this pussy can't lie. Not to me." He remarks before he slowly starts to move. He wouldn't have moved until you've begun formulating words again, but fuck was he impatient. He couldn't wait a week, for fuck's sake, and he'd be damned if he were made to stay still for a minute longer. He kept a steady pace, hitting all your spots. Heat starts to pool in your stomach fast as he slowly but surely amps up the pace. Your knees feel like jello. You would have buckled a long time ago if it weren't for his hands on your hips, pulling you in and out onto him.

"F-Fuck! Sa-Satoru..! Too much!" You cry out in pleasure as he lets out a breathy chuckle from behind you.

"Aww, don't say that. I've barely started with you." He says as he starts to slam into you deeper. Tears threaten to fall from your eyes, and you could guess that anyone passing by the door would be able to hear your cries. "I know you can take it. So take it like the good girl you are."

A broken moan escapes your lips. Your skin prickles as you feel yourself tethered over the precipice of pleasure. Although Satoru wanted to stay in control , he couldn't help his needy groans echoing in the room. God, he felt so desperate. It's like he hadn't had anything like you before, and it's addicting. He leans on you, lips latching onto the back of your neck, sucking, kissing, biting, marking you as his.

"You take me so well," he whispers against your skin. The closeness makes you reach an arm to the back of his head, trying to pull him into you. He whispered words of praise as he planted fleeting kisses upon your forehead. With each moan that escaped your pretty lips, his resolve to make this last longer, crumbles. His movements started getting erratic. His fingers dug into your skin as you tangled your fingers in his hair with each thrust. Your body felt so warm. Your legs started to tremble as you uncontrollably clenched around him tighter.

"Fuck, Y/N, I'm gonna... fuck, I'm gonna cum—" His words were cut short as he crashed his lips against yours, muffling your cries and groans. "Cum with me, baby. Fuck, cum with my cock inside you..!" He demands. Your body responds to him not a second later. The waves of pleasure that washed over you as he emptied himself inside you sent you to your ecstasy. Hiccups wrecked your body as it trembled, and he rode every last second of it. You let out a whine of complaint from the sensitivity, but he pressed soft kisses on your temple while murmuring words about how good you were. He lets you catch your breath before pulling out of you. You let out a groan of complaint at the sudden emptiness, but he makes up for it when he carries you bridal-style in his arms. You lean into him as you open your eyes to see this man, eyes drooping.

"Hey, don't tell me you're already tired?" He smirks at you. "The night is young. And I'm sure as hell not done with you yet."

A couple more weeks passed after your last encounter, and despite your initial agreement with Satoru, there were times (multiple times, by the way) that this rule was disregarded. Every time, you told him it would be the last time. It was broken every time, and you always found ways to justify it. You needed a break from your studies. You wanted to see him. Being with him just felt that good. You couldn't help yourself. And so did Satoru. He found himself craving your presence, your touch, your kisses. He found that his thoughts seemed to wander to you even when he was at work. His smug smiles were proof of that, not that Ijichi appreciated seeing that. It gave the man the shudders.

As you submitted the last of your papers, you left the campus feeling lighter as all your headaches now seemed to float away. It was almost the weekend, and it was finally time to unwind. You take your phone out and start tapping away.

To: Satoru

How's work going?

Not a minute later, your phone buzzes.

From: Satoru

Boring... And you? Done with school?

Now that you think about it, he has yet to tell you about his work. To be fair, after your drunk questions, you have yet to bring it up again. Not that you have any reason to. He hasn't done anything that would raise your suspicion.

To: Satoru

Are you just slacking again?

You snicker as you send the message. You've heard Satoru complain about his job sometimes. Something about the elders? His superiors maybe? He tends to grumble about how they're such a pain in the ass.

From Satoru:

Hey! I wasn't slacking! <;(๑`^´๑)>

Not today, anyway.

You suppress a laugh bubbling from your throat.

To: Satoru

Alright, alright, don't pout. Are you still at work?

From: Satoru

Nah. I just finished, actually. Wait for me by the entrance. Let's go out and eat! There's a cafe I'd like to try out!

You can literally hear the elation from his text message. His sweet tooth knows no limits, so it seems. Well, at least it gets you free coffee, which works well for you.

To: Satoru

Okay. See you there... then my place tonight?

Your face heats up as you bite your lip in anticipation. You suggested that you take turns visiting each other's houses for the past couple of weeks instead of meeting up in hotels. As much as you've proven that this man is filthy rich, you didn't want him spending such unnecessary money over impromptu overnights at luxury hotels.

From: Satoru

Sure, babe ;)

Comments from my beta reader/co-creator while checking the draft:

I know I wrote the timeline but you didn't have to do it

I don't wanna read this fic anymore

I'm gonna highlight all of the things I hate in this fic *highlights the whole document* /jk

I don't want to involve myself in the demon shit that this is *skims a paragraph*

He is wearing his ugly ass onesie

I know what I said but don't @ me

Stay tuned for Chapter 2! uwu

Lemme know if you want me to make a taglist for this!

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