Let me just say one thing since I have seen so many rants about it on here.
The Backrooms movie was absolutely fantastic and the symbolism and messages it wove into the storyline were also fantastic. But people are allowed to enjoy media however they choose to do so.
If you want to disect the movie frame by frame and tell me everything it means, every detail that I may have missed? Amazing I love those posts, I appreciate cinematography and peoples take of art. However, I also choose to post and like posts simping for Bobby. Just because I'm not solely focused on the message of this movie that was intended for EVERYONES enjoyment does not mean anyone should be shamed.
I welcome discourse from anyone so long as it is handled in a respectful manner but I will not tolerate the obscene amount of people trying to take the high road just because you don't want to simp for one of the characters.
Pov: You work at a video rental store and your stoner boyfriend can think of a great use for his camera
You're laying down in bed, a book propped up on your thighs when your boyfriend Bobby strolls in wearing one of his signature crop tops that shows off his midriff, a joint tucked behind his ear. He has a grin on his face, his eyes shimmering with mischief as he kicks his shoes off and crawls onto the bed.
"Hey babe, got an idea," he says, pulling out the bulky video camera from his bag. "I'm studying videography, right? And you work at a video rental place. Let's put this thing to good use. I wanna tape us fucking. You and me, raw and real. What do you say, sexy girl?" You feel a thrill run through you as he suggests it, the idea of capturing every moan and thrust on tape. It was filthy and risky but hot as hell. Bobby doesn't waste time once you nod. The red light blinks on, and he starts talking dirty right away.
"Look at you, babe, bet you're already getting wet thinking about it. Come here, let me taste that pussy."
He crawls in between your legs, pulling your shorts off and spreading your legs. He hands you the heavy camera, and you attempt to hold it steady as he buries his face between your thighs. His tongue laps at your clit, sucking and licking with enthusiasm while he mumbles against your skin, "Fuck, babe, you taste so good. Keep filming, sexy girl, show the camera how much you love my mouth on you." Your hips buck against his face as he eats you out, his hands gripping your ass.
“Fuck Bobby, feels so good baby.” The camera captures every wet sound and your soft gasps. After a few minutes, Bobby sits up, his cock hard and straining against his jeans. He yanks at his already limp belt and pulls his pants off, taking the camera from you, pointing it down at his cock as he strokes it.
"Goddamn it babe, you make me so fucking hard," he says, holding the back of one of your thighs. You bite your lip and smile into the camera as his cock slowly slides into you, the camera in one hand filming the way his cock disappears into your pussy. "Shit you're soaked. Take it deep, babe."
He pounds into you, the camera shaking slightly with each thrust as he holds it. "Look at that, filming my cock stretching you out. You like being recorded, don't you, sexy girl?"
Midway through, he hands the camera back to you. You hold it while he lifts your leg and fucks you harder, the lens capturing close-ups of your bodies slapping together. Bobby keeps the dirty talk flowing, "Babe, you're dripping all over me. Sexy girl, moan louder for me."
As he gets close, he pulls out and cums on your stomach, the camera zooming in on the mess. Panting, he grins at you. "We should make copies and put this sex tape on the shelves out there, babe. Right next to the new releases. Let the customers rent our fuck session, sexy girl. What do you think?"
Bobby kisses you softly, still holding the camera. "Love you, babe. This is gonna be hot as hell."
~~~~~~
A/N: Stoned and horny thinking about Bobby pounding me into the mattress 🤤
CW: babytrapping, breeding, unprotected sex, Rick Sanchez, use of cubs and litter, possessiveness
The lab hummed with pulsing energy conduits, the occasional burp from a half-empty flask of something green and viscous, and the scratch of Rick’s pencil against a schematic he’d long since stopped caring about. You watched him from the doorway, your tail flicking lazily behind you. He hadn't said much tonight. Just the usual grumbles about the Council of Ricks, Morty's incompetence, and the inherent stupidity of the multiverse. But then…that comment.
It slipped out between two swigs of a beer he'd synthesized from a dead star's core. "Yeah, well, maybe if I knocked someone up they'd actually stick around. Not like they'd have a choice with a Rick's kid growing inside 'em. Dependency drive kicks in hard. Fucking biological lock."
He didn't even look at you. Just a throwaway line. But your ears twitched. You caught it. The way his voice dropped half an octave, the way his fingers tightened on the flask. You filed it away, and now pressing your body against his back in the middle of a portal fluid calibration you decided to use it.
"Rick," you purred, your voice a low, honeyed growl that slipped between his ears and straight to his crotch. His hand froze. "What was that you said earlier? About knocking someone up?"
He turned, eyes wide for half a second before narrowing into that classic defensive squint. "I don't—what? I didn't say—"
"Don't bullshit me, genius." Your fingers slid down his chest, over the lab coat, tracing the outline of his ribs. "You think I didn't catch the fantasy? You want to fill a little fox up with your seed. Make her round and heavy. So full of you she couldn't walk straight, couldn't think about anyone else."
He swallowed. The pencil dropped from his hand. "You're reading too much into—"
"Am I?" You shoved him back against the workbench. Glass vials rattled. Your tail curled around his thighs, locking him in place. "Or am I giving you exactly what you want?" His breath hitched. His cock was already straining against his pants, and you hadn't even touched it yet. You smirked, a flash of fangs, and dropped to your knees.
You took your time undoing his belt. Not because you had to but because you wanted to watch him squirm. The great Rick Sanchez, smartest man in the multiverse, reduced to a panting mess by a few well-placed words from a fox.
"My sweet, miserable genius," you murmured, freeing his cock. It was thick, already dripping precum, and you gave it a slow, deliberate lick from base to tip. His hips jerked. "You think I don't know what you need? You need someone to trap. Someone helpless. Someone who can't leave because she's carrying your legacy."
"Fuck—" His head fell back, hitting the edge of the bench. You didn't let up.
"Imagine it, Rick." You wrapped your lips around the head, sucking gently, then pulled off with a wet pop. "Your cum inside me. Finding my egg. Taking root. My tail wrapped around you every night because my body's screaming for you to touch me, to feed me, to keep me pregnant and dripping and yours."
His hand shot out, grabbing a fistful of your hair. Not hard enough to hurt, just enough to anchor himself. "You're doing this on purpose," he rasped.
"Of course I am." You smiled against his shaft. "I want you to use me. Knock me up. Make me dependent on you. Couldn't leave even if I wanted to, not with your baby growing in my belly. I'd need you. Need your cum, your touch, your voice telling me I'm a good little breeder."
He came with a strangled shout, hot ropes of cum splashing across your tongue, your cheek, the corner of your mouth. You moaned around him, swallowing everything you could, letting the rest drip down your chin like a prize. When he was done, his chest heaving, you rose slowly, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.
"Not bad, Sanchez." You pressed a kiss to his slack lips. "But we're not done. I want that load in my pussy. I want you to fill me until it leaks. Until there's no doubt."
He stared at you, pupils blown wide, finally nodding. "Lab. Floor. Now."
You spread your legs on the cold tile, tail fanning out like a halo, and watched him crawl over you. He was still hard. Good. You hooked a leg over his shoulder, guiding his cock to your soaked cunt.
"This is what you want, right?" you whispered, letting the tip press against you, not quite entering. "To claim me. To breed me. To make sure I can never, ever look at another man without thinking about how you've got your seed deep inside me, taking root, changing me forever."
He pushed in. Both of you gasped.
"Y-yeah. Fuck. Yes."
"Then do it." Your claws dug into his back, not drawing blood, just marking. "Knock me up, Rick. Make me swell. I want to waddle around your lab, heavy with your cubs, milking your cock every night because you need to keep the pregnancy strong. I don't want to leave. I can't leave. You've got me, you've got all of me." He fucked you like he meant it. Hard, raw, with none of the sarcastic detachment he usually wore like armor. Every thrust grounded him deeper into you, your cunt clenching around him, pulling him in. The corner of the workbench dug into your shoulder blade. You didn't care.
"You're gonna stay," he growled against your throat, teeth grazing your pulse. "You're gonna stay and let me fill you up over and over. And when you're fat with my brats, I'm gonna keep you locked in this lab, fucking you senseless, breeding you until you forget your own name."
"Yes—yes—" You came with a cry, your cunt milking him, pulling him over the edge with you. He buried himself deep, hips grinding, emptying his second load straight into your womb. You felt it, hot and thick, painting your insides white. You held him there, legs locked, tail wrapped around his waist, making sure not a drop escaped. When he finally collapsed on top of you, sweaty and trembling, you stroked his hair. "See? Was that so hard, genius?"
He groaned, face buried in your neck. "Shut up."
"Make me." You grinned, feeling his softening cock still nestled inside you. "Or better yet, get that portal gun. Let's go find a dimension where I've got a full litter waiting. I want you to see what you've done to me."
He lifted his head, a genuine smile cracking through his usual scowl. "You're insane."
"Takes one to know one, Sanchez."
He pulled out slowly, watching a trickle of his cum follow. He didn't bother cleaning you. Instead, he stood, zipped his pants, and offered you a hand. "Fine. But I'm naming the first one.”
"Absolutely not."
"Seven-four-alpha-ozone-3 is a beautiful name."
You laughed, letting him pull you up, still dripping, still marked, still his.
Your alarm went off at exactly seven in the morning, shrill enough to send you into a panic attack. You slapped at your phone until the noise stopped, then stared at the ceiling for a long moment, already exhausted.
You hadn’t slept much. Every time you closed your eyes your brain found something new to gnaw on. Law school applications. Future internships. Whether you were ruining your life by not networking enough. Whether that hostess three years ago genuinely thought you were a bitch when you’d told her your party was already seated. By the time dawn crawled through your blinds, you’d managed maybe three hours of sleep.
It showed.
There were dark circles under your eyes when you finally dragged yourself out of bed. You threw on the first clothes you could find, leggings, an oversized sweatshirt, mismatched socks, and stumbled into the bathroom. Toothbrush hanging from your mouth, you squinted at yourself in the mirror. Your hair looked deranged. You groaned softly and started dragging a brush through the knots. The whole thing puffed around your head like a bird’s nest before you finally wrestled it into a braid.
It didn’t help much. You still looked half dead, but class started in ten minutes and vanity was a luxury you couldn’t afford. You grabbed your bag, nearly tripped over one of your shoes, then rushed for the door. The hallway outside your apartment was quiet, washed gold by the weak morning sun coming through the stairwell windows. You locked your door in a hurry, fumbling the key twice before finally getting it.
Late. Great. You took off down the hall, Your sneakers pounding against the concrete stairs as you flew down two flights at reckless speed, one hand gripping the rail. By the time you hit the lobby door your lungs were already burning.
You shoved the heavy door open…
and slammed directly into someone. Hard.
“Ah, goddamn it—” the man snapped automatically, voice rough with irritation. “You stupid fucking prick, watch where—”
You froze. Aerion.
He was dressed like he hadn’t slept either, though somehow he still looked unfairly good. Dark clothes hung loose on him, rings flashing silver in the morning light. His pale hair was messy, like he’d been running his hands through it all morning. And you had just hit him square in the face with a metal door.
“Oh my God,” you blurted.
Blood started pouring from his nose. Aerion blinked once, stunned more than hurt, before touching beneath his nostril. When he pulled his hand away his fingers were streaked red. For one second, he looked genuinely ready to swing at you. His shoulders squared instinctively, jaw tightening. Then recognition crossed his face.
You watched the exact moment his anger dissolved into amusement.
“Well,” he said slowly, voice rough with sleep, “that’s one way to say good morning.”
“I am so sorry,” you rushed out immediately. “I didn’t know anyone was standing there.”
Aerion wiped at his nose with the back of his hand. The smear of blood across his knuckles only made him look more aggressive. Then he flicked his tongue out against the blood at his upper lip, a grin tugged at one corner of his mouth, lazy and sharp. “You always assault your neighbors this early, or am I special?”
Your brain stalled.
“Neighbors?”
He leaned one shoulder against the wall beside the stairwell door like he had all the time in the world. “Apartment 3B.”
You blinked at him. He lived across the hall from you.
“How have I never seen you before?”
Aerion snorted softly. “I stay out late, schedules never aligned I guess.”
“You were about to hit me,” you accused weakly, trying to recover.
“You broke my nose.”
“I did not break your nose.”
Aerion tilted his head back slightly, blood still dripping lazily over his mouth. “Feels broken.”
“You’re being dramatic.”
“Mm.” His grin widened. “Keep talking like that and I might let you take me to breakfast as an apology.”
You stared at him, was his default setting cocky? He stared right back, completely unbothered by the fact he was bleeding all over himself. Then he sighed theatrically and pushed himself off the wall. “Relax, sweetheart. I’m not gonna die from a door to the face.”
“I still feel bad.”
“You should.” He wiped at his nose again before glancing down at your backpack. “You’re late.”
“Shit.”
You checked your phone. Two minutes.
“Okay, I really have to go—”
Aerion stepped aside with an exaggerated sweep of his arm. “After you, violent girl.”
You hurried past him, then stopped after a few steps.
“You should probably ice that,” you said, turning back.
He smirked. “You offering to kiss it better?”
You almost choked. Aerion laughed quietly at your expression, low and warm and entirely too pleased with himself.
“Go to class,” he said. “I’ll survive.” You shook your head and started backing away toward the parking lot. Then he called after you.
“Hey.” You looked back. Aerion leaned against the doorway again, blood still staining his mouth, sunlight catching on the rings across his fingers. “Don't work yourself too hard, you can have some fun too.”
~~~~
You slipped into the lecture hall with your backpack half-open and your braid already coming loose again, trying your absolute best not to draw attention to yourself. Thankfully, the room was dark enough to help. The professor glanced up briefly from the podium as the heavy door shut behind you, pausing for only a second before continuing the lecture like nothing had happened.
A few students looked over. You exhaled quietly in relief and hurried down the steps between rows of seats, clutching your laptop to your chest. Your sneakers squeaked faintly against the floor as you moved toward the only open seat left, beside Valarr. He looked up immediately when you dropped into the chair next to him.
Concern crossed his face almost instantly.
“I was beginning to worry,” he murmured, leaning slightly closer so he wouldn’t interrupt the lecture.
You pushed a hand through your hair and pulled your laptop from your bag with a tired groan. “Yeah, sorry. Overslept.” You opened the computer, blinking at the brightness of the screen. “Then I accidentally broke my neighbor’s nose, I think.”
Valarr went still for half a second then one eyebrow lifted slowly.
“That’s…” He let out a soft laugh under his breath. “That’s a lot for eight in the morning.”
You rubbed at your eyes. “You have no idea.”
“What happened?”
“I opened a door too aggressively.”
“That sounds…unfortunate.” His mouth twitched, clearly fighting a smile. You glanced down at the projector screen and immediately felt panic settle in your chest. There were already paragraphs of notes up.
“What document are we on?” you asked quickly.
“Torts,” Valarr answered, turning his laptop slightly so you could see. “Duty of care.”
You nodded, trying to focus as you hurried to pull the right file up. The lecture continued around you in a blur of legal terminology and case citations. You typed notes mechanically, fingers moving fast enough to keep up, but your brain felt wrapped in fog. Every few minutes your attention drifted completely. You forced yourself back to the lecture.
Negligence. Liability. Foreseeability. None of it stayed in your head longer than thirty seconds. You were exhausted. Your thoughts felt tangled and slippery, impossible to organize. By the end of class your document was a disaster of half-finished bullet points, disconnected phrases, and random highlighted sections that meant absolutely nothing to you anymore. The professor finally dismissed everyone, and the room immediately filled with the sound of shuffling bags and conversations.
You stayed seated your elbows rested against the desk while you buried your face in your hands with a long, miserable groan.
“I hate everything,” you muttered.
Beside you, Valarr looked over. His laptop was immaculate, of course. Perfectly formatted notes. Color coded headers. Clean citations. You glanced at your own screen again and felt briefly homicidal. Valarr leaned closer, studying your document. His expression shifted somewhere between concern and amusement.
“These are…” He paused carefully. “Abstract?”
You let out a tired laugh into your hands. “I’m going to fail out and end up living in a ditch.”
“I think that’s unlikely.”
“My notes literally stop halfway through one sentence because I zoned out.”
You laughed again despite yourself, softer this time.
Valarr watched you for a moment before speaking again. “Do you drink coffee?”
You finally lifted your head to look at him properly. His mismatched eyes, one blue, the other darker, almost gray in the dim lecture hall lighting were fixed on you with quiet attentiveness.
“Yeah,” you sighed, rubbing at your temples again. “But I don’t have time. I’ve got theater after this.”
Valarr shrugged lightly, closing his laptop with a soft click.
“You can afford to miss it once.”
You stared at him, then you barked out a surprised laugh. “Oh God. Don’t tell me I’ve become a bad influence on the golden boy.”
A faint flush touched the tops of his ears at that. Valarr looked down briefly at his hands before glancing back at you again, smiling a little to himself.
“I have a free period next,” he said. “Besides…” His gaze flicked meaningfully toward your chaotic notes. “I can’t have my debate partner falling behind, can I?”
You leaned back in your chair, exhausted but amused now. “So this is selfish.”
“Entirely.”
“I knew it.”
“I need someone to keep me on my toes,” he continued calmly. “And currently you look about five minutes away from collapsing face-first into your keyboard.”
“That’s fair.”
“You also look like you might cry if someone asks you a difficult question.”
“That’s also fair.”
Valarr’s smile widened slightly, small and genuine.
“Then coffee,” he decided. “And food.”
“I don’t know if I can justify skipping theater.”
“You’re a law student,” he replied smoothly. “You can justify anything if you argue hard enough.” You stared at him for a second before laughing again.
“There he is,” you said, pointing at him accusingly. “Tiny little criminal defense attorney hiding inside the honor student.” Valarr shook his head, still smiling as he stood and slung his bag over one shoulder.
“Come on,” he said. “Before you pass out and I have to explain to campus security why my debate partner is lying face down on the pavement.”
The campus café was packed, students half-awake, professors lingering near the counter with briefcases tucked beneath their arms, somebody arguing loudly about constitutional law near the pastry case. The smell alone made you feel slightly more awake. Valarr held the door open for you as you stepped inside.
“You look less dead already,” he observed.
“That’s because caffeine is near.”
A quiet laugh escaped him as the two of you joined the line. Up close, with actual light on him instead of dim lecture hall fluorescents, Valarr looked unfairly put together. Dark sweater. Sleeves pushed neatly to his forearms. Hair combed back. Meanwhile you were running entirely on spite and espresso fumes. When it was your turn to order, you barely looked at the menu.
“Red eye,” you said immediately. “Large. And a ham, egg, and cheese croissant,” you added after a second of consideration.
Valarr ordered a black coffee. When you reached for your wallet, he beat you to it.
“Oh, absolutely not,” you said.
“I invited you.”
“You are not paying.”
“I’m absolutely paying.”
You narrowed your eyes at him while he handed over his card.
His smile appeared again, brief but genuine. It was becoming increasingly obvious that Valarr smiled more with you than he did with almost anyone else. The realization sat strangely warm in your chest. The two of you found a small table near the windows once your drinks were ready. Rain clouds had started gathering outside, casting campus in that soft gray light that made everything feel quieter than usual. You practically inhaled the first sip of coffee.
Valarr watched with poorly hidden amusement. “Better?”
You closed your eyes briefly. “I can hear colors again.”
He shook his head lightly before opening his laptop. “Alright,” he said. “Let me see the damage.”
You reluctantly slid your computer toward him. Valarr studied your notes in silence for a few seconds. Then he looked at you.
“You weren’t exaggerating.”
“I told you.”
“There’s a paragraph here that just says ‘what if judges were chosen like the pope.’”
You groaned and dropped your forehead against the table. “I was trying to stay awake.”
Valarr laughed softly, the sound made you look up again. He had a nice laugh. Warm. The kind that slipped out unexpectedly rather than loudly demanding attention.
“You missed half the professor’s explanation on negligence,” he said, still smiling faintly. Ironic.
“That was at the beginning wasn't it? I was still reeling.”
“From assaulting your neighbor?”
You pointed at him again. “Allegedly.”
“Mm.”
For the next hour he helped you reorganize everything. And somehow, with him sitting beside you, the material stopped feeling impossible. Valarr rewrote headers while you filled in details. He explained points you’d missed without sounding condescending about it, patient even when you interrupted him every thirty seconds with another question.
“You understand this stuff way too easily,” you muttered eventually.
His shoulders lifted slightly. “I like structure.”
“I like sleep. Unfortunately one of us had their priorities rewarded.”
“You could also prioritize sleep.”
“I could,” you agreed solemnly. “But then how would I spend four hours thinking about conversations I had in 2019?”
Valarr looked at you for a long moment. Then he said, very seriously, “You do seem like someone who apologizes to furniture after bumping into it.”
You stared.
“That felt hurtful.” His lips curved again. The conversation drifted naturally after that. He asked where you grew up. What made you interested in law. Whether theater was a serious hobby or just an elective you’d accidentally become emotionally attached to. You learned he’d transferred schools twice growing up because of his family. That he liked fencing, of all things. That he read constantly and had an annoying habit of remembering almost everything he learned.
As the conversation continued, something subtle shifted between you. The easy teasing stayed, but there was something underneath it now. A growing attentiveness. The kind where his eyes lingered on your face a little longer than necessary when you talked.
The kind where he noticed small things, like how you picked apart the flaky top of your croissant first or how your expression changed when you spoke about theater more animated, brighter despite your exhaustion.
And you noticed things too.
Like how he always turned fully toward you when you spoke, like he considered what you were saying important. Or how his voice softened when he asked personal questions, careful without seeming hesitant. At one point your fingers brushed while reaching for the same notebook. Neither of you moved away immediately.
It lasted maybe half a second too long. Valarr’s eyes flicked briefly to your hand before lifting back to your face.
There was something unmistakably interested in his expression now.
“You know,” he said after a moment, leaning back slightly in his chair, "I'm beginning to think that this pairing is beneficial for the both of us.”
You smiled into your coffee cup. “You mean my academic breakdown didn’t scare you away?”
“I think,” Valarr said carefully, gaze steady on yours, “it may have had the opposite effect.”
And annoyingly enough, your stomach flipped a little at that too.
At some point your notes had stopped being the focus entirely. Your laptop sat open between the two of you, mostly forgotten now except for the occasional addition to a study guide Valarr had started building for you.
Outside, the sky had darkened fully into a soft gray drizzle. Rain tapped gently against the café windows while students shuffled in and out around you.
You were halfway through stealing one of Valarr’s hash browns when your phone buzzed loudly against the table.
Both of you glanced down automatically.
Daeron 🐶
A laugh escaped you before you could stop it. Valarr noticed immediately.
“What?” he asked.
You unlocked your phone, already smiling. The messages loaded one after another.
-where are you???
-you skipped theater???
-are you alive
-if you're dead can i have your copy of hadestown?
You snorted quietly.
“He’s dramatic,” you explained, thumbs already moving over the screen. Valarr leaned back slightly in his chair, expression neutral enough to almost hide the curiosity there.
“Daeron?”
You nodded. “Friend from theater.” Your screen lit again before you could even answer.
-HELLO???
-i know you're looking at this
You laughed harder.
“He gets clingy,” you said fondly. Valarr made a soft sound of acknowledgment and took another sip of coffee. But you caught the tiny shift in his posture anyway. Subtle. You typed back quickly.
-alive unfortunately
-wasn’t feeling great so i skipped today
-currently being force-fed caffeine
Three dots appeared instantly.
-wow okay betrayal
-i would have brought you coffee :(
-i recorded the lecture for you btw so you can watch it later
Your chest warmed a little at that. Daeron was just sweet in that effortless way. Openly affectionate. Impossible not to like. You smiled as you typed back another quick thank-you. Across from you, Valarr watched the exchange over the rim of his coffee cup.
“You seem close,” he said casually.
You set your phone back down. “He’s kind of impossible not to adore.”
Valarr hummed softly at that. There was nothing openly irritated in his expression.
“He recorded the lecture for you? That’s attentive.”
You smiled faintly. “Daeron’s like a golden retriever emotionally.”
That finally earned a genuine laugh from Valarr.
“I can picture that.”
Your phone buzzed again.
-also who is force feeding you caffeine 🤨
You rolled your eyes affectionately and locked the screen this time. Valarr noticed, the silence between you stayed comfortable for another moment before he spoke again, quieter this time.
“You know,” he said, tapping one finger lightly against his coffee cup, “I just realized something.”
“Hm?”
“You gave Daeron your number. And yet,” he continued smoothly, “I only received your email for debate correspondence.”
You stared at him for half a second before laughter threatened again.
“Are you jealous of Daeron?”
“No.”
The answer came a touch too quickly. Valarr cleared his throat lightly and looked down at the table instead, clearly aware you’d caught him.
“I’m simply saying,” he amended with careful dignity, “that it feels slightly impersonal.”
“Oh my God,” you teased, leaning back in your chair. “You’re jealous.”
“I am exercising chivalrous concern,” he corrected calmly. “What if there had been a debate emergency?”
“There are no debate emergencies.”
“That sounds like something an unprepared person would say.”
You laughed again, shaking your head.
“Well,” you said lightly, “you never asked for my number.”
That made him pause. Valarr’s gaze lifted back to yours slowly.
Then, very simply, he said:
“I’m asking now.”
Your stomach flipped. God, this day was exhausting.
You looked down briefly, suddenly very aware of the warmth in your face before unlocking your phone again.
Valarr watched you quietly while you opened a new contact.
“You know,” you murmured while typing, “for someone pretending not to be jealous, this is incredibly transparent.”
A faint smile pulled at his mouth as you handed him your phone. His fingers brushed yours when he took it. Deliberate this time. His eyes flicked toward you briefly before he typed his number in and handed the phone back.
Your phone buzzed almost immediately with a new message.
You glanced down.
Valarr:
Now I can properly bother you about studying.
You looked up at him over the screen.
“That’s your first text?”
“It establishes expectations.”
“You’re unbelievable.”
His smile softened slightly as he watched you.
“No,” he said quietly. “I think I’m being very clear, actually.”
hi! when will u hv the next chapter of study of fire? its rlly interesting!
OMG hi! Sorry I've been on a small hiatus but I've got some of it written already. I'd say within the next week it should be posted. Thank you for your interest!
I'm thinking about writing a Remmick smut based on the song 'It Will Come Back' by Hozier. What do we think? And drop some ideas for what kinks should be involved too if you feel like it.
CW: Cheating, Breeding, spousal abuse, verbal abuse, Zenin Clan in general really, praise, size kink, unprotected sex
Summary: You are married to Naoya but he's selfish and abusive, and his quiet, strong, hot as hell cousin is right there. And he wants to prove to you that sex can be a pleasurable endeavor and not just a duty.
Being the wife of Naoya Zenin was a thankless endeavor. You were to be silent unless spoken to, and even then sometimes it was better not to speak. You were to make the perfect dinner every single night, do his laundry, listen to him whine and complain like an absolute man child, the list was endless. But the absolute worst thing was the outdated concept of sex. Women in the Zenin clan were objects, they were ornamental, only used as chips in alliances and incubators for children, and Naoya embodied this sentiment fully. Whenever Naoya felt up to it, he would turn you face down on the bed and rut his hips into you, sweat dripping from his chest down to your back growling about putting a baby in you. Under any other circumstances it would be hot, I mean it was hard not to find your husband attractive, his confidence, his power, but then he would open his mouth and remind you exactly what made him so unattractive in the first place.
On numerous occasions you would be forced to tag along to meetings, serving as a glorified cup bearer to your husband. After all, in the eyes of the clan, women were too useless to be a threat, even with inside information. Naobito, Ogi, Jinichi, and a few of the cousins were always involved in these meetings. Trifling affairs, trades, marriages, children. They were so predictable and boring that if permitted, you may have drifted off more than once. The only thing that kept you awake was the way that Jinichi stared at you. From the first moment the two of you locked eyes he had some sort of inflection in his gaze. Like you were something worth looking at, like he wanted to rip your clothes off. He wasn't subtle with the way he held eye contact, looking you up and down.
You had seen him training in the courtyard, shirt off, scars lining his body. He was absolutely massive and covered head to toe in body hair, he hardly spoke usually offering a non committal grunt here and there. It was ironic. By the clan’s own standards, Jinichi should have been everything they valued, strength, presence, intimidation. And yet, somehow, it wasn’t enough. Not in the ways that mattered to them.
Naoya had caught you staring once, you had been instructed to accompany him on errands. Jinichi had been drilling young sorcerers in the courtyard, one massive hand tightened around a training staff, the prominent veins strained from hours of rigorous exercise. His hair pulled back slightly, god he was a beast, you had never noticed how thick his neck was, how prominent his shoulders were…
“Wife.” Your eyes snapped back to Naoya who had apparently been speaking to you. His feline eyes narrowed in disdain and his lips curled in that grimace he wore when speaking of things below him. Which, in Naoya's eyes, everyone and everything was below him. “You insult me, are you honestly so insipid? Tch, staring at that brute. I thought you would have more taste than that, serves me right for thinking anything remotely optimistic about a woman.” He then grabbed you by the back of the head, fisting his fingers in your hair and dragged you along. The whole time talking about pedigrees, and the stupidity of women.
~~~~
The room was alive with soft laughter and clinking glasses, you leaned in slightly toward the women around you, your voice dipped just low enough to feel private.
“I’m serious,” you said, exhaling through a faint smile. “Naoya is… impressive to everyone else. Confident, composed, exactly what he’s supposed to be.” You paused, tilting your glass.
One of the women gave you a curious look. “So what’s the problem?”
You let out a quiet, almost amused breath. “It's just being married to someone who only cares about how things look from the outside.” Your tone sharpened just slightly. “Ive had more compelling conversations with strangers, and let's not even get into our sex life.”
A soft murmur passed through the group, understanding, sympathetic.
You shook your head lightly. “I shouldn’t even be saying this. It’s just..frustrating.”
They nodded, offering sympathetic smiles, and the conversation began to drift elsewhere.
While patiently listening to conversation about idle things like who was pregnant currently and boring clan gossip, you felt it again. That oppressive, prickling feeling on the back of your neck that always made you falter. From the corner of the room, there stood Jinichi. He had that same look on his face, the one that made you blush from the neck up, made your knees weak and your thoughts all slurry. And this time, God this time you thought you could see a ghost of a smile.
“Excuse me for a moment please…” you said politely, sitting your drink down and disappearing down the hallway towards the restroom. Was it hot in here? You darted into the bathroom and rinsed your face off, it was red and flushed like you had started running a fever. It wasn't a fever, you weren't that delusional. No, for some reason that look alone was enough to make you want to drop your panties, even if it did seem predatory. You would take it over the rehearsed, almost robotic way that Naoya would snap his fingers and look almost bored as you stripped.
After a few moments, you gathered your composure and opened the door. A large hand immediately grabbed your wrist and dragged you out of the doorway. You gasped instinctively, who wouldn't be startled? And your heart rate didn't slow when you realized who it was…Jinichi. He let go once the two of you were out of eyesight of anyone that may walk into the hall.
“I heard.” He says simply. You had to look up to talk to him, up close his height was even more staggering than it was from afar.
“Heard what?” You ask stupidly, obviously there was only one thing that would elicit this response. He had obviously heard you shit talking Naoya. Him being in line to be the new clan head meant that everyone was to hold him in high regard and here you had went insulting him. “I'm so sorry, I spoke out of turn, I let my emotions get the better-”
“My cousin is an idiot.” He cuts you off and you look up at him again, he looks contemplative, his brows drawn together and his arms crossed. “He doesn't understand what he has, his wife is an absolute gem and he is wasting her time with his boyish ways.”
You gawk. Had Jinichi Zenin…the man that you've been stealing glaces at, been fantasizing about, just called you a gem? That had been unexpectedly sweet. “Oh um…thank you…” Why? Why were you so stupid? ‘Thank You’. Before you could really hate yourself too much, Jinichi looked over your shoulder and then back down to you.
“Meet me at the fountain at ten, if you want to find out what it means to not be so…frustrated.” He winks, just slightly before walking away past you. His choice of words had been purposeful, pointed, and if that didn't clue you in, the wink definitely did.
~~~~
Naoya quickly tired of the mingling, coming to you a few hours in and playing the caring husband. “It’s time to go now, wrap it up.” He says, without his usual bite, his arm wrapped around your waist. You look at the other women and nod.
“It was so nice talking to you, thank you for coming.” You say as you're ushered out the door. The moment the cool night air hits you, he's already complaining.
“You don't thank them for coming, it's an honor to attend. And don't think I'm not pissed at you, you stayed over there all night. You never once seeked me out to hang on my arm.” He scolds.
“You told me to never interrupt.” You start and he stops to grab you by the face.
“You are here to adorn me. You are here because you were the best option I had. Do not forget that.” He releases your face and begins walking toward the gate. “I'm going out, don't wait for me.” That was code for him disappearing into the city for hours and coming back with glitter on his clothes and smelling like some girls perfume.
A part of you feels almost bad for wanting to go to the fountain, until you are reminded of that fact. At ten o sharp, you sat on the fountain edge waiting for him. Your nerves buzzed and your legs quivered as you heard the footsteps. Sure enough he was standing before you.
"You're punctual," he murmurs, his voice low and rumbling. He doesn't touch you yet, but his gaze traces the way your yukata clings slightly from the damp mist. "Come. My room is this way. We can talk there, away from prying eyes."
You nod, words caught in your throat, and follow him through the winding paths of the estate. His broad back leads the way, muscles shifting under the fabric with each step. The walk feels endless, your mind swirling with questions. By the time you reach his quarters, a secluded wing far from Naoya's domain, your body betrays you with a shiver. Your legs weak and wobbly from pure nervous adrenaline.
Jinichi slides the door open, revealing a sparse but elegant room lit by a single lantern. Tatami mats underfoot, a low table, and a futon in the corner simple, like the man himself. He gestures for you to enter, closing the door behind you with a soft click that seals you both in privacy. Turning to face you, he tilts his head, noticing the tremor.
"Already shivering?" he teases gently, his voice laced with amusement as he steps closer, close enough that you can smell the faint scent of cedar on his skin. "I haven't even laid a finger on you yet.” he grabs your chin gently and brings you in for a soft kiss that you had to make an effort not to fumble. His tongue doesn't force its way into your mouth, in fact he only presses his lips to yours until he feels your lips part. He lets go of your chin and places his hand behind your head. You let go of his face and begin to reach down to unlace your yukata, his free hand clasps over yours. “No, let me. I believe it's more intimate to undress each other, piece by piece. No rush. Let me show you how it should be."
You allow him to do as he wished, used to Naoya making you do it by yourself and the slower you were, the angrier he'd become. His fingers trail down to the collar of your yukata, deftly loosening the obi with a delicate nature that contrasts his immense strength. The sash falls away, and he eases the fabric open, exposing the curve of your shoulders and the swell of your breasts beneath it. Cool air kisses your skin, but his warm breath follows, chasing away the chill as he leans in, lips hovering near your ear. "See? Your skin is so soft…” he whispers, his hands sliding the yukata down your arms, letting it pool at your waist. He pauses, admiring the way your chest rises and falls quicker now, nipples hardening.
He doesn't grab or demand, instead, his palms cup them from below, thumbs circling your nipples with teasing slowness, coaxing them to harden further. "Beautiful," he breathes, voice husky. "Naoya doesn't deserve this. But I do."
You shiver again, this time from the spark of pleasure his touch ignites, and he chuckles softly, pressing a light kiss to your collarbone. His hands move lower, pushing the yukata past your hips, letting them slide to the floor in a silken heap. Now you're bare before him, vulnerable and exposed, but his eyes hold only reverence and hunger. He kneels slightly, strong fingers tracing the line of your thigh up to your waist. His large fingers hook into the waist of your panties and he tugs them down slowly, deliberately, exposing the soft curls between your legs, slick already gathering there from his gentle attention. The cloth drops away, and he rises, towering over you once more, his own arousal evident in the bulge straining his pants. But he doesn't rush to free himself. Instead, he pulls you close, his massive frame enveloping you in warmth, one hand stroking down your bare back to cup your ass, squeezing just enough to make you gasp.
Your hands tremble slightly as you reach for Jinichi's shirt, the reverence in your touch mirroring the way he undressed you. His massive frame stands still, allowing you to explore, your fingers tracing the hard ridges of his abdomen through the fabric before gripping the hem. You lift it slowly, peeling the shirt up over his chiseled torso, revealing inch after inch of impossibly defined muscle, broad pecs that flex under your gaze, abs carved like stone, and a V-line dipping toward his waistband that makes your mouth water. The shirt comes off over his head, and you let it drop, your palms pressing flat against his warm, scarred skin, feeling the heat radiating from him as you slide your hands up to his shoulders, then down his arms, marveling at the sheer power coiled there.
"You're incredible," you whisper, voice thick with awe, as you sink to your knees before him. Your fingers hook into his pants, tugging the waistband down carefully, exposing the trail of dark hair leading to his cock. The fabric slides lower, and his cock springs free heavy, thick, and impossibly long, veins pulsing along its length, the head already glistening with pre-cum. It's massive, dwarfing your hand as you wrap your fingers around the base, stroking tentatively, feeling it twitch in response. The weight of it makes your pussy clench, slickness building between your thighs. You lean in, lips parting, ready to take him into your mouth. "Let me," you murmur, eyes flicking up to his. "I want to suck your cock, make you feel good."
Jinichi's hand cups your cheek gently, thumb stroking your skin as he shakes his head, his dark eyes soft but firm. "Not yet," he says. "Tonight is about you. I want my focus on your pleasure first. Lie back on the futon. Let me take care of you." His words wrap around you like a command you can't resist, and you obey, stretching out on the soft bedding, your naked body exposed and quivering under his gaze. He kneels between your legs, his huge form careful not to overwhelm, one large hand parting your thighs with tenderness. His fingers trace your inner thigh, teasing upward until they reach your pussy, slick and swollen. He circles your clit lightly at first, drawing a gasp from your lips, then dips lower, sliding one thick finger along your folds, coating it in your wetness.
"So wet already," he praises, voice husky with approval. "Your pussy is perfect." He presses that finger inside you slowly, inch by inch, feeling your walls clench around him. You arch your back, a moan escaping as he curls it just right, stroking that sensitive spot deep within. His thumb finds your clit again, rubbing in slow circles while he adds a second finger, stretching you gently, scissoring them to prepare you for what's coming.
Pleasure builds like a tide, your hips bucking instinctively against his hand. "Jinichi... please," you beg, your nails digging into his arms clawing at the unyielding muscle there as desperation takes hold. "More I need more. Your cock... fuck me please!”
He watches your face, eyes intense, as he pumps his fingers deeper, faster now, his free hand pinning your hip to keep you steady. "You're doing so well," he murmurs, leaning down to kiss your neck, his breath hot against your skin. "Taking my fingers like this, clenching so tight. I'll give you my cock soon, fill you up completely. But first, come for me…let me feel you soak my hand."
The praise pushes you over the edge. Your body tenses, claws raking down his back as waves of orgasm crash through you, your pussy pulsing around his fingers, juices coating his palm. He doesn't stop, drawing it out until you're trembling and spent, then withdraws his hand, bringing his slick fingers to his lips to taste you. "You taste so good,” he growls softly, positioning himself above you. His massive cock nudges at your cunt, the broad head parting your folds. He pushes in gradually, gentle despite his size, one hand stroking your thigh reassuringly. "Relax for me," he coos, sinking deeper, your walls stretching to accommodate his girth. Inch by inch, he fills you, until he's buried to the hilt, his hips flush against yours. "That's it, your pussy was made for my cock. So good, taking all of me."
You cry out, legs wrapping around his waist, nails scraping his sides as you beg again. "Move... please, Jinichi, fuck me harder." He obliges with controlled thrusts, deep and steady, his body a wall of muscle moving over you.
Jinichi's thrusts are measured, each one deep and deliberate, his massive cock sliding in and out of your pussy with a rhythm that's both tender and overwhelming. He's holding back you can feel it in the way his muscles tense, his broad hips snapping forward just enough to grind against your clit without overwhelming you. The stretch of him inside you is exquisite, your cunt hugging every inch, the veins along his length dragging against your sensitive spots with each withdrawal and plunge. It's so good, better than anything you've ever known, making your toes curl and your legs shake.
"You feel so good around me," he praises, voice a soft growl as he leans down, his lips brushing your ear. One hand cradles the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair, while the other supports his weight beside you, caging you in his warmth without crushing. "Taking my big cock like this... you're incredible. Does it feel good, love? My size filling you up just right?"
You nod frantically, your nails scraping lightly down his back, leaving faint red trails on his sweat-slicked skin. "Yes! God, yes, Jinichi. You're so huge... it feels amazing. Don't stop, please." Your legs tighten around him, pulling him closer, urging him deeper even as he tempers his pace for your sake.
He chuckles softly, the sound vibrating through his chest into yours, a cute rumble that makes your heart flutter amid the heat. His thrusts pick up a fraction, just enough to make you gasp, his cock bottoming out and pressing against that deep spot that sends stars bursting behind your eyelids. "Good girl," he murmurs, nuzzling your neck, planting gentle kisses along your collarbone. "I love how your pussy grips me, milking me like it never wants me to leave. You're perfect soft and wet and all mine tonight."
The praise washes over you, warming you from the inside out, and you arch into him, your body begging for more. He's fucking you so well, every movement calculated to build your pleasure without pain, his control a testament to how much he cares. But the tease comes next, his breath hot against your lips as he hovers above you, dark eyes locking onto yours with playful intensity. "Tell me," he whispers, slowing his hips to a torturous grind, circling them to let you feel the full girth of him buried deep. "Am I better than Naoya? Does he ever make you feel this good?”
Your response is immediate, enthusiastic, spilling out in a breathless rush as you claw at his shoulders, pulling him down for a messy kiss. "Yes! So much better fuck, Jinichi, you're everything he never was. Your cock... it's so much bigger, stretching me perfectly. I need you, only you." The words tumble free, raw and honest, your hips bucking up to meet his, chasing the friction.
His eyes soften with affection, a small, smile tugging at his lips as he rewards you with a deeper thrust, careful still but firmer now. "That's my girl," he praises, voice laced with pride. "Enthusiastic and honest I love that about you. And look at you, taking all of me so well. Imagine if I filled you up completely... pumped you full of my cum, bred you right here. Would you like that?”
The breeding talk hits like a spark, igniting something primal yet sweet in the way he says it, his tone gentle and adoring rather than demanding. Your pussy clenches hard around him at the thought, slickness easing his way as he resumes his steady rhythm. "Yes please, Jinichi," you beg, your voice a whine, fingers digging into his biceps. "Breed me... fill my pussy with your cum. Make me yours."
He groans low, his forehead pressing to yours as he thrusts a little harder, still holding back to keep you safe but chasing that shared high. "I'd love to," he breathes, peppering your face with soft kisses, your cheeks, your nose, your lips. "Stuff you full until it leaks out, mark you as mine inside and out. You're so good for me, clenching like that... begging so sweetly. Come on, love come on my cock. Let me feel you squeeze me while I praise you."
His words, combined with the relentless drag of his massive cock push you toward the edge once more. You claw at him desperately, nails biting into his skin as pleasure coils tight in your belly. "Jinichi... I'm close! fuck, you're too good," you gasp, and he nods, his own breath ragged but controlled.
"That's it, beautiful. Let go for me. Your pussy feels like heaven. I'll give you everything soon." With a final, deep push, he grinds against you, and you shatter, crying out his name as your orgasm ripples through you, fluttering wildly around his cock. He follows moments later, holding back just enough to bury himself deep, spilling hot ropes of cum inside you with a muffled groan against your shoulder. "Take it all," he whispers praises through his release, "such a good girl, full of me now." He stays inside you as you both come down, his arms wrapping around you in a gentle embrace, bodies tangled in soft afterglow.
Ser Duncan 100% would put you in a headlock while having sex.
He wouldn't do it consciously at first, two rounds in and sweaty, you're getting tired, your legs are shaky, you aren't arched nearly as deeply as he would like. So sweet Dunk wraps his beefy bicep around your neck and groans into your ear.
"C'mon love, just one more. Can you do that f'me?" And you've never came harder.
Sweet Duncan can't wrap his head around why you had reacted that way. What had he done differently? Then he realizes and it becomes normal.
Almost everytime you have sex, he wraps his arm around your neck and squeezes, forcing you into an arch that makes the both of you moan and writhe. He gets off on hearing you gasp and keen, and you get off on the sheer size and strength of your gentle giant of a lover.
Summary: Reader is a very important woman and someone wants to see her dead. The saving grace is Toji Zenin who recognizes that you are worth more alive so he charges double the bounty placed on your head to be your bodyguard. But living in close quarters with Toji Fushiguro does not bode well for your self control.
The pond was perfectly still, its surface unbroken by even the smallest ripple. It stretched out like glass, reflecting the sky so clearly it was hard to tell where water ended and air began. Ducks drifted lazily across it, their movements smooth and effortless, like figure skaters gliding across fresh ice. You lay sprawled on the dock, stomach pressed to the warm wood, one arm dangling loosely over the edge. The sun hit the water at just the right angle, forcing you to squint as light scattered across your vision. A soft breeze brushed over your skin, cool just enough to remind you that winter had finally loosened its grip.
Gone were the heavy coats, the layers upon layers that never quite kept the cold out. Now, a tank top and shorts were enough. The air felt alive again. Birds chirped in uneven bursts, their bright, cheerful notes occasionally interrupted by the rough, grating caw of a crow somewhere in the distance. You dipped your fingers into the water, idly tracing the surface then immediately huffed under your breath.
Cold. Far colder than it looked. Definitely not swimming weather.
Still, you didn’t move. You knew better than to get comfortable, people with luck like yours didn’t get peace for long. But that didn’t stop you from taking it while you could.
A faint thud of footsteps broke the quiet. You didn’t turn. It was probably just one of the men here to annoy you.
“You're worth a lot of money right now.” The voice came from behind you, low and rough, and utterly uninterested. It sounded bored. Your fingers stilled in the water before you slowly pulled your hand back, droplets slipping from your skin and falling into the pond below.
“Then I guess you hit the jackpot,” you replied, matching his tone. But something felt… off. You could feel him now, or at least, you should have been able to. Yet there was no cursed energy. Nothing. Just… presence. Heavy and dense. Like standing too close to a hidden threat. A zebra unaware of the camouflaged lion.
You shifted slightly, glancing over your shoulder.
Tall. Broad. His muscles strained obviously against his shirt, his posture loose, almost lazy despite the fact that he’d just announced he was here to collect your life. Did he think you were weak?
“You ain't runnin’,” he said.
You turned fully this time, pushing yourself up to sit, facing him head-on.
“If you're going to kill me,” you said, tilting your head slightly, “quit talking and get it over with.” His gaze dragged over you, slow and deliberate, like he was weighing exactly how much effort you’d cost him.
“Bounty’s high,” he muttered. “Could cash you in easy.”
Your heartbeat stayed steady carefully controlled. Men like him noticed things like that. His eyes flicked, just briefly, to your throat to where your pulse should’ve been betraying you.
“…You’re not scared.”
“No,” you said simply. “You want to kill me, you can certainly try.”
He went quiet for a moment, studying you. Then,
“Double it.”
“…What?”
“You said I hit the jackpot,” he said, tone unchanged. “So here’s the deal.” His eyes sharpened slightly. “You pay me double whatever they’re offering, and I keep you alive.”
You stared at him, then laughed. A disbelieving scoff.
“You’re trying to extort someone with a bounty on their head?”
“Not trying,” he corrected flatly. “Am.”
Now you really looked at him, because this man was insane. No cursed energy. None at all. And finally, recognition clicked into place. Toji.
Zenin. No…Fushiguro now. The outcast. The anomaly. The man the clan talked about in equal parts disdain and reluctant awe. No cursed energy, yet somehow stronger than most who had it. A walking contradiction. The heir to the Zenin clan talked about him constantly, how no one could ever match up to Toji. How had you not seen it before, when you could never escape the constant refrain of Toji Toji Toji.
“…And what’s stopping you from taking the bounty and whatever I pay you?” you asked.
“Nothing.”
The answer came instantly. No hesitation. No attempt to dress it up, just the cold unbridled truth. You could respect that for sure.
“…You think I’m worth more alive.”
“Yeah.”
You pushed yourself to your feet, and approached him, not breaking eye contact.
“Fine.”
One of his brows lifted, just a fraction. “That wasn’t very hard.”
“Don’t get comfortable,” you shot back, stepping closer still. “I’m not agreeing because I trust you.”
“Didn’t think you did.”
“I’m agreeing,” you continued, your voice quieter now but steady, “because you’re right. I am worth more alive. And if you’re as good as you seem to think you are…then you might actually be worth the investment.”
His eyes light up a bit, obviously amused now.
“Guess we’ll find out. Try not to get killed.”
You huffed softly, folding your arms.
“Isn’t that your job now?” His gaze dipped over you once more, assessing, calculating.
“…Yeah,” he muttered. “S’pose it is.”
You stepped off the dock first. The wood creaked softly under your weight before giving way to packed dirt and scattered gravel. The shift felt small, but it marked the transition from free, to constantly monitored.
Behind you, you could hear him follow, leisurely like nothing in the world could force him to move faster than he wanted to. For a while, neither of you spoke. The wind stirred again, carrying the faint scent of water and damp earth. Somewhere behind you, a duck splashed, quacking it's frustrations at another who had swooped in too quickly and startled it. You glanced at him from the corner of your eye, he was already in guard dog mode. Paying you no mind, just staring ahead mapping out every possible escape route no doubt.
“…So,” you said, breaking the silence. “Who put it out?” No response. You slowed slightly, enough to make it obvious you expected an answer. “The bounty,” you clarified. “Who wants me dead that badly?”
“…Don’t know.”
You stopped walking.
“Don’t-” You let out a short, incredulous breath. “You don’t know?”
He didn’t stop immediately, took a few more steps before finally stopping to look at you.
“Didn’t ask.”
“That’s not how this works,” you said. “People don’t just throw around that kind of money without a name attached.”
“They do if they don’t want it traced.”
His tone was flat. Matter-of-fact. Like this was the most obvious thing in the world, and obviously it was to a man who had been collecting bounties for years. Who were you to argue with a professional? Your jaw tightened slightly.
“…So what, you just saw a number and decided that was enough?”
“Yeah. Only thing I know is whoever posted it isn’t being picky.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Means it’s not just me. They sent it out wide,” he continued. “Anyone who can take a job like this got the same offer.”
You went very still.
“…Anyone?”
He simply nodded. “Which means,” he said, eyes flicking back to you, “someone else already took it.”
The breeze didn’t feel as pleasant anymore. The open space around the pond so peaceful minutes ago suddenly felt exposed. You exhaled slowly, steadying yourself. Now you were afraid.
~~~~~~~~~
The first attempt happened two days after the deal. You were still getting used to the idea that a man who had come to kill you now sat in your kitchen, eating your food without asking, left his clipped toenails and dirty laundry laying around.
The window shattered without warning and you flinch slightly. By the time the glass hit the floor, he was already moving. A body dropped outside before you even fully processed the sound of the gunshot.
Silence followed and your ears rang from the proximity.
You glanced at him from the doorway, heart beating but not racing. “Is that it?”
He looked back at you, with a chuckle “Yeah that's it.”
Another time, it was an ambush. You’d insisted on going out, you needed air and space. Of course you didn't get that, he had to follow, hands in his pockets, gaze sweeping everything.
They waited until the alley. Three of them. Maybe four. You never saw all of them clearly.
What you did see was the moment Toji stepped in front of you. “Get back.”
You stepped back, hands up “You’ve got it handled.”
It was messier than the first time. You heard the impact, the breath leaving lungs, the dull finality of bodies hitting concrete.
Then it was over.
You had gotten used to the attempts by now, the change wasn’t sudden. It crept in slowly, settling into your bones with each failed attempt on your life. Each night you went to sleep knowing someone out there wanted you dead and that the man sleeping down the hall would keep you alive.
One night, Toji seems a bit on edge. Grumpier than usual. He watches you for a long moment, the weight of his gaze sharp enough to feel like a blade pressed lightly against your throat.
“You’re weirdly calm,” he mutters, “You know how many are coming for you, right?”
You shrug, as you scrub at a dish “Yeah.”
“That’s it?” His brow furrows, not in confusion so much as irritation.
“I can handle myself,” you reply simply. That earns you a pause. A real one this time. Toji tilts his head slightly, reassessing, if you're bluffing or if you're insane.
“…Then why am I here?” he asks. “You’re paying me to do a job you just said you can do.”
You glance at him, a small, almost amused smile tugging at your lips. “Because it’s easier to keep the Sorcerer Killer in my back pocket. And,” you add, gesturing vaguely toward the place you’ve been staying, “you don’t seem to be complaining about the food and board.”
Toji exhales through his nose “…Tch.” He shifts his stance, hand resting near his weapon. “Smart,” he says finally.
~~~~~~
It's been a month now, without incident.
Toji lounges on the couch, his massive frame sprawled out like he owns the place which, technically, he does for the duration of this gig. You've been cooped up in this apartment with him for months now, ever since that shadowy bastard slapped a fat bounty on your head and turned every lowlife in the city into a potential assassin. But now? No knocks at the door in the dead of night, no suspicious shadows lurking outside the window. Just you, him, and the stack of cash you've been handing over like clockwork. You lean against the kitchen counter, arms folded, staring him down as you sip your coffee.
“You know, Toji, I've just wired you another payment. A whole month's worth for... what? Sitting on your ass and eating my food? You're basically a freeloader at this point.”
He chuckles, not bothering to sit up. His dark eyes flick over you. “Freeloader, huh? Last I checked, I'm the one keeping your pretty head attached to your shoulders. You complaining about the service?”
You set the mug down with a clink, stepping closer. There's tension in the air, thick and electric, built up from all those shared glances and accidental brushes in the tight space of the apartment. The times you've been doing dishes and he gripped your hips, pressing into you from behind. Fleeting enough to be an accident but lingering enough to make you question it. Neither of you backs down, never have. You're no damsel, and he's no gentle giant.
“Service,” you repeat, voice laced with challenge. “Yeah, about that. I think I should be getting my money's worth, and if no one is going to swoop in and try to kill me, what am I paying you for? I think it's time to acknowledge the fact that we've been circling each other this whole time. I want to fuck you.”
Toji's grin spreads as he uncurls from the couch in one fluid motion, towering over you as he closes the distance. His hand shoots out, fingers wrapping around your wrist not pulling, but holding. “That so? You think you can just demand it, like I'm one of your little toys?”
You twist your wrist free and shove at his chest, hard enough to make him step back a fraction, but he doesn't budge much. You doubt it would've even moved him if he didn't let it. “Demand? Nah. But I'm done pretending like we haven't both been eye-fucking each other for weeks. You want it too, don't lie. What other reason would you have for digging through my laundry basket? I know you don't do your own.” Your hands slide up his shirt, nails scraping over the ridges of his abs, feeling the scars that map his skin.
He growls, grabbing your hips and yanking you flush against him. His cock is already half-hard, pressing insistently through his pants against your thigh. “Bossy little thing. Fine.” His mouth crashes down on yours, teeth nipping at your lower lip as his tongue pushes deep into your mouth. You bite back, matching his aggression, your fingers tangling in his hair to pull him closer. Clothes come off in a frenzy your shirt yanked over your head, his tossed aside to reveal the broad expanse of his chest. He palms your breasts roughly, thumbs circling your nipples until they're peaked and aching, then pinches hard enough to draw a gasp from you. You retaliate by grinding your palm against the bulge in his sweats, feeling it twitch and thicken under your touch. “Fuck, you're eager,” he mutters, voice gravelly as he shoves your pants down, kicking them away.
You push him toward the couch, but he spins you instead, bending you over the armrest. His hand cracks against your ass, the sting blooming into heat that makes your pussy clench. “Spread your legs,” he orders, but you hook a leg back, tripping him slightly so he stumbles forward. Laughing breathlessly, you glance over your shoulder.
“Do it yourself.”
Toji's eyes narrow and he does, prying your thighs apart with his knee, his fingers delving between your folds to find you slick and ready. He thrusts two thick fingers inside without warning, curling them to hit that spot that makes your knees buckle. “Wet as hell already. You been thinking about this cock?” He pumps them in and out, thumb rubbing your clit in rough circles, but you reach back, fumbling with his zipper to free him. His dick springs out, thick and veined, the head already leaking pre-cum. You wrap your hand around it, stroking firmly from base to tip, twisting at the top just to hear him hiss.
“Shut up and fuck me already. Cocky bastard.” He pulls his fingers free, replacing them with the tip of his cock. One hard thrust, and he's buried to the hilt, stretching you wide, filling you completely. You both groan, the sound raw and animalistic. Toji's hands grip your hips like vices, pulling you back onto him as he starts pounding, each snap of his hips driving deeper. The couch creaks under the force, your breasts bouncing with every brutal thrust. “Harder,” you demand, pushing back to meet him, clenching around his cock to make him curse. He leans over you, chest to your back, one hand sliding up to wrap around your throat not squeezing, but holding, a reminder of his strength. His other hand snakes down to rub your clit, fast and unrelenting.
“You take it so good. Gonna make you cum on this dick.” The pressure builds, coiling tight in your stomach and you arch, nails digging into the cushions as the orgasm crashes over you, pussy spasming around him. Toji doesn't stop, fucking you through it, his pace turning erratic. “Where do you want it?” he grunts, but you twist, forcing him to pull out just enough so you can spin and drop to your knees. You take him in your mouth, sucking hard, tongue swirling around the head as he thrusts shallowly. He comes with a groan hot spurts hitting the back of your throat, and you swallow every drop, holding his gaze the whole time. Panting, he hauls you up, crushing you against him in a messy kiss that tastes like him. “Not bad for a freeloader huh?” he murmurs, smirking.
You nip his jaw. “Who said we were done? You gotta earn that payment somehow.”
You push him down onto the couch and shift, straddling his hips, feeling his cock twitch against your inner thigh, already stirring back to life grinding down to tease him, your pussy still sensitive and wet from before. He smirks up at you, hands settling on your waist, guiding you as you lift and sink onto him. His cock slides in deep, stretching you anew, and you both let out a shared hiss at the friction. You set the pace, rolling your hips in slow circles, clenching around him to draw out his groans. “Fuck, just like that,” he mutters, eyes locked on where his glistening cock disappears inside of you.
But Toji's not one to lie back passively. His fingers dig into your hips, and suddenly he's thrusting up hard, sharp snaps that jolt you forward. Each drive hits deep, the head of his cock dragging against your walls, brushing that bundle of nerves that makes stars burst behind your eyelids. You brace your hands on his chest, nails scraping over his scars, but he keeps going, bucking wildly, almost unseating you with the force. “Toji! shit,” you gasp, your rhythm faltering as pleasure spikes through you. He laughs, triumphant, sitting up to capture your mouth in a bruising kiss. His arms wrap around you, pulling you down until your breasts crush against his chest. In one swift move, he folds you legs pushed up toward your shoulders, your flexibility tested as he hooks your knees over his shoulders. The new angle has him buried impossibly deeper, and he starts pounding, relentless, hips slamming up into you. The couch shifts with every thrust, the legs scraping against the floor, wood creaking in protest.
Your pussy clenches around him, slick sounds filling the room as he fucks you raw. “Gonna break this damn thing,” he grunts, sweat dripping down his temple, not slowing for a second. “If we do, I'll just buy a new one with your money.” His voice is rough, teasing, but his eyes burn with intensity, daring you to push back.
You arch into him, meeting his thrusts as best you can in the folded position, your clit grinding against his pelvis with each collision. “Gl-fuck-glorified sugar baby,” you shoot back, voice breaking on a moan as he hits that spot again, sending tremors through you. The words only spur him on as he redoubles his efforts, pounding harder, the couch inching across the room now, thudding against the coffee table. Pressure builds fast, your pussy fluttering around his cock, and you come undone with a cry, body shaking as waves crash over you. Toji follows seconds later, thrusting deep one last time, spilling hot inside you with a guttural groan. He holds you there, both panting, the couch finally still beneath you.
The haze of your shared release fades slowly, but your body still hums with need, not ready to stop. Toji's still half-hard inside you, his cock twitching as you clench around him experimentally. You lock your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, refusing to let him pull away. “Another round,” you demand, voice husky, nails digging into his shoulders. “Now.”
He chuckles the sound vibrating through his chest. “Bossy as ever, still haven't fucked the attitude out of you I see.” he murmurs, but there's no hesitation he's already hardening fully, thickening inside of you, as you push him back to maybe get some control again. Of course he delivers, it's Toji, built like a machine, stamina endless. His hands grip your ass, lifting you slightly before slamming you back down, setting a brutal rhythm right away. You bounce on him, pussy stretched wide, taking every inch as he thrusts up to meet you.
“Fuck, your cunt's perfect,” he growls, one hand sliding up to palm your breast, thumb flicking your nipple hard enough to make you gasp. “So good, milking my cock like it was made for it. Greedy fucking pussy, sucking me in deeper every time.” His words hit like sparks, filthy and raw, making you throb as you ride him harder. You lean down, capturing his lips in a messy kiss before pulling back, echoing his praise with a wicked smile.
“God, Toji your cock feels incredible hitting just right. Should've added this to the contract months ago, protection with benefits.” The admission spills out between moans, your hips circling to chase the friction. Whining as your hips falter, tired from the pace you've set. He feels the hesitation, the stutter in your movements.
He thrusts deeper, flipping your positions in a blur, now you're back under him on the couch, legs still hooked around his hips as he pins you down. His pace turns punishing, cock plunging in and out with wet slaps, balls slapping against your ass. “Yeah? Would've fucked you senseless from day one,” he rasps, sweat-slicked forehead pressing to yours. Then, mid-thrust, as he's buried to the hilt and grinding against your cervix, he adds casually, “By the way, I took care of the guy who put that bounty on you last month. Snuffed him out quiet-like. No more threats.”
The revelation hits you like a jolt, but it's drowned in pleasure, your pussy spasms around him, orgasm building fast from the intensity. You can't even be mad if anything, it turns you on more, knowing he's been handling shit behind the scenes while you paid him. “You-ah, fuck- bastard,” you manage, but it's breathless, affectionate, your hands tangling in his hair as you pull him into another kiss. He laughs against your mouth, pounding harder, chasing his own release while you shatter around him, crying out as you come, soaking his cock.
Toji follows with a loud groan flooding you once more with hot cum, hips jerking erratically until he's spent. He collapses half on top of you, both breathing ragged, his weight a comforting press. “All part of the service,” he teases, nipping your earlobe.
