been seeing those "climbing my boyfriend to see if he'll notice" videos and valko would 1000% let you climb him like a jungle gym while not batting an eye. he doesn't even notice you setting up your phone and pressing record because he's so locked into his work. you would start climbing up onto the back on his chair and fully swinging your legs over his shoulders to the front of his chest. and the only thing he thinks to do is to hold your legs and stabilize you and as you continue your ascent to fully sit on his shoulders.
his eyebrows are still furrowed but softer now that you're in his presence. you tug on his hair like ratatouille and he's so surprised by the force that he yelps and actually goes with you. of course, he catches you and steers you back to center. the giggles are off the charts as valko has been accustomed with your silly ways. you comb his hair back and scratch his scalp as he taps away on his keyboard.
you try and ask questions to see if you can rile him up but he is genuinely so happy with answering them.
"whatcha doin?"
i'm just finishing these reports honey bunches of oats, i'll be done in 10 minutes max.
"what does that mean?"
it's just an identifier we use for the different types of metals we have.
"what should we have for dinner?"
mmm, maybe that yummy chicken you made last week. i thought about it this morning.
"who's my pretty boy?" you reach under his chin and give him the lightest scratch. his eyes sparkle as he looks up at you, giving you that love sick puppy smile that shows his canines.
“You can be such an asshole, you know that?” You’ve never been quite so infuriated with Sylus. His usual smirk is gone, telling you that he too isn’t in the mood for joking around right now.
"I would hardly call what I was doing-"
"You were being an asshole and you know it! God Sylus it's like you do this shit on purpose just to piss me off!" You kick your heels off with a little too much force, storming into the house. He stays on your trail, not letting this end.
"Your temper gets the best of you too easily." A mocking tone has entered his voice, one the makes you see pure red.
Your lips are on his before he can blink, nearly shoving him into the wall as you kiss him. He doesn't hesitate to return him, flipping your bodies and pressing you back to the wall, tugging down the expensive dress he'd bought you.
“That fight wasn’t over.” You mumble in warning, ripping open his shirt after fumbling with buttons. He undoes your bra with an equal amount of ferocity, pushing your panties to the floor as you do the same with his pants.
"Oh trust me, I know." His cock sinks into you easily. Sylus pulls your body up so your legs wrap around his waist, holding you steady as he fucks into you relentlessly.
"Fuck! G-god just like that!" You grap, pulling at his hair. He moans at the sensation, tilting his head back and giving you the perfect opportunity to leave a mark that won't be fading any time soon.
"Fiesty kitten." He murmurs, sucking his teeth when you bite down just a little too hard. You run your tongue over the mark to soothe it, feeling his whole body shiver against yours.
"Sylus I swear to god-"
"You don't need to beg sweetie. I'll give you what you want. We can fight in the shower, right?"
pairing: bf!Valko x gn!reader
synopsis: you wake up from a nightmare where valko disappeared, leaving you alone. thankfully, he's lying by your side when you wake up...
cw: fluff, hurt/comfort ig, petnames, established relationship
wc: 1.5k
a/n: yes this is my way of coping
Valko masterlist (wip!)
Valko was gone.
He had disappeared, seemingly without a trace.
You woke up to an unusually empty and cold bed. So you got up, searching the bathroom instead, calling out to him by the nickname you knew he secretly loved despite acting against it. But he was nowhere to be seen.
You tried calling him or sending him a text, but you couldn’t find his contact in your phone anymore.
So you tried social media, but you couldn't even find his account. Even after looking his username up.
The pit in your stomach only grew deeper and heavier as you rushed out of your bathroom, making your way to your entrance, throwing on the first pair of shoes you could find, grabbing your keys, and leaving. You noted the fact that his boots weren’t at your entrance anymore.
Arriving at his place, you walked up the luxurious modern driveway and pulled out the spare set of keys to his place he’d made for you. But the door didn’t open, or budge. The key didn’t even fit into the lock.
But in your panicked state of denial, you continue forcing the key into the hole, until the door opens from the other side.
You look up, expecting to be met with your 6’2 hunk of a boyfriend. Maybe in loungewear, with his glasses resting low on his nose, a book in hand.
Instead, an older woman looked at you with fear, disgust, and confusion all at once.
“Can I help you?” she asks condescendingly.
You stutter, still shocked.
“If you’re just going to stand there, then get off my property. I won’t hesitate to call the police.” she huffs.
Her property? What the hell was she talking about?
“Go on then.” she shoos you away, closing the heavy wooden door right in your face.
You remain standing there, baffled, before slowly turning around and looking at the cars in the driveway. Three sleek Mercedes’. And Valko’s jeep was nowhere in sight.
Your hands start trembling as you slowly make your way back to your own car. Shutting the door behind you once you sit in the driver’s seat, you pull out your phone again.
You decide to call his aunt. Surely she’d know where he was.
You sigh in relief once she picks up, and immediately ask her about Valko’s whereabouts, without even bothering to greet her properly.
She’s quiet on the other side of the line before speaking. “... Who?”
Your mouth falls agape ever so slightly, and your eyebrows knit together in a frown. “Valko. Do you know where he is? I’ve been trying to reach him all morning.”
She’s quiet again, but this time breaks her silence with a chuckle. “Sweetheart, did you hit your head? Who’s Valko?”
The hand holding your phone up to your ear falls in your lap, as tears start to well in your bottom eyelids.
Although you’re not on speaker, you can still faintly hear the sound of her voice.
“Y/N? Are you still there?” she questions, before laughing again. “I swear if this is another one of your pranks―”
You hang up before she can finish her sentence.
You stare down at your phone, and click on your camera roll.
There are no photos of him. There are no videos of him. Your album of him is gone.
Valko is gone.
Lost on what to do, you break down. The tears instantly stream down your face, hot and heavy. Your heartbroken sobs echo through your car. You fold in on yourself, leaning forward until your forehead rests against the steering wheel. The cries that rip out of your throat only get louder as you close your eyes, blinking the tears away.
The next thing you know, you’re in bed again. The sheets cling to your body due to the sweat rolling down your back. It’s humid, and sticky, and you feel as though you’re suffocating.
You immediately sit up and tear the covers off of you to catch your breath.
That’s when you realize… Valko. Where is he?
Your gaze drops down to your right.
There he is. Lying down with an arm propped behind his head, the other resting on his chest.
You nearly pounce on him, grabbing him firmly by the shoulders and shaking him awake.
“Valko! Come on, wake up, please―” you mutter, your voice raspy and broken as you start tearing up again.
But he doesn’t budge. You pray it’s just him being his usual heavy sleeper self, and continue trying to wake him up.
Eventually, he starts to stir, eyelashes fluttering open.
You stop your motion and stare down at him with wide eyes, and tear streaks adorning your cheeks.
Once his vision focuses and he takes in your appearance, he immediately sits up.
“What’s goin’ on?” he asks, large hands already moving to cup your face.
But the second you feel his warm touch again, the dam breaks and you sob even more. Your hands move to rest against his own, as you lean into his palms. “I―” you start but choke on your words.
His golden eyes dart back and forth between yours. “Hey, it’s okay, take your time. Use your words.”
You sniffle repeatedly, catching your breath. He continues wiping your tears away with the pads of his thumbs, remaining silent.
Once you feel more calm, you speak up. “You were gone… you left–you left me.”
Now it’s his turn to frown, but he still says nothing.
“You left. Like you never even existed.” your breath hitches. “I tried calling you but I couldn’t find your contact on my phone—and there was an old rude lady living at your house, and I called auntie to ask about you and she was acting like she didn’t even know you.” you ramble, your words occasionally getting cut off with your sobs and voice cracks.
He lets out the breath he was holding before pulling you in. You immediately bury your face into his chest.
“I’m here, baby.” He whispered against your ear. “You hear my heartbeat? Smell me?” he presses kisses to your head. “I’m right here. Not goin’ anywhere.”
Pressing your ear to the spot right over his heart, you listen to it beat against his ribcage, focusing on the familiar and comforting rhythm. Your crying eventually ceases, and you’re left hiccuping and letting out deep breaths.
His hands continue caressing up and down your back until he feels you’ve really calmed down.
You’re the first to pull away, and you wipe your tears while staring down at your lap.
He notices how distant you look and cups your jaw with one hand to make you look up at him.
“Feelin’ better?” he asks, eyes unusually soft.
You slowly look up to meet his eyes and shrug.
“It was just a bad dream, ‘kay? I’m not leaving you.” He leans down, nuzzling his nose against yours. “Ever.”
Your eyes flutter shut as you lean up so your foreheads touch, and you breathe him in. You immediately bask in his warm, inviting scent that you swore could wake you up from a coma. “... Promise?”
“I promise.” he whispers against your skin, letting his words sink in.
You look up at him through your wet lashes. He stares down at you in silence, his eyes half-lidded, before slowly and carefully leaning down. You try to meet him halfway and lean into him as well, closing your eyes.
But instead of pressing his lips against your own, he swipes his tongue against the corner of your left eye, licking your tears away.
Your eyes snap back open and you stare at him in shock. “Valko.” you reprimand, yet your voice is soft and still exhausted.
He pulls back, and looks as though he’s deep in thought. “Salty.” he finally comments, the corners of his lips tilting into a smirk.
You continue to stare at him with parted lips. “... You’re gross.” you scoff.
But he’s quick to lean in and lick the tears from your other eye. You yelp, moving away and trying to push him off, giggling in the process.
His hands move to grab your waist, pushing you back against the mattress as he climbs on top of you.
You shield your face from him, arms coming up to hide it.
His fingers slip under your shirt to tickle your skin, making your defenses drop. He takes the opportunity to lean in again and lick an annoyingly long stripe up the side of your face, tracing the tear tracks on it.
Your laughter echoes through the bedroom as your legs start kicking up in all directions. “Valko, enough!”
He continues for a good two minutes before finally stopping. You’re caged between his biceps, staring up at him, while you try to catch your breath. He’s slightly winded too, and some of his hair has fallen on his forehead.
“... I love you.” he mutters.
Your heart squeezes painfully, and you cup his face with both hands, caressing his jawline. “I love you too.” you respond.
He leans down, lips finally pressing against your own.
Reminding you that he was real, present, and that nothing would ever change that.
“What are you saying? You reaaally want to quit your job and move to the N109 Zone with me? Say no more, Sweetie~”
Sylus teases as you glare at him in frustration. Your mouth moves, but no sound comes out.
It was certainly the last time you joined the Twins to help with one of their little experiments, since this one left you temporarily without a voice.
While the antidote is still in the making and needs a few more hours, Sylus is using this to his entertainment.
“How unfortunate, Kitten. I guess I’ll have to speak for you today.”
He opens one of his drawers and pulls out a pair of synthetic cat ears.
You already know he’s going to have the time of his life over the few hours.
“You were so adorable when you turned into a cat. How about we recreate that today?” He dangles the kitten ears in front of you with a smug grin.
“Just say something if you don’t want me to put them on you.”
You shoot him a playfully annoyed look, though you don’t really mind.
“What did you want to say? ‘Sylus, you’re devastatingly handsome today?’ Oh, Sweetie, how kind of you to say so.”
Sylus gently places the ears on your head.
“How cute~” he admires you in your new look.
He then fastens a collar with a tiny bell around your neck before scooping you into his arms and carrying you over to the couch, settling you comfortably on his lap.
He pours each of you a glass of wine before absentmindedly playing with the little bell on your collar.
“Say, Kitten… who do you belong to?”
You glance up at him but don’t even bother opening your mouth. Instead, you calmly take a sip of your wine and gesture that you, and your body, belong to yourself.
Sylus smiles amused. “Right… So, when I do this…,” he hooks a finger beneath your collar and gently tugs you closer, “… what are you going to do about it?”
You glare at him and lightly bite his finger, earning an entertained laugh.
“Hm, someone’s moody. What if I do this…,” his hand slowly trails up your skirt, finding its way closer to your core, “… will you finally speak up?”
Normally, you’d fire back with something cheeky just to mess with him, but nothing leaves your lips. Instead, you simply hold his gaze.
“Nothing, hm?” he flicks the tiny bell on your collar, “Listen, it’s your little soundtrack,” he grins. You give him a soft, kitten-like slap across the cheek in retaliation.
Your eyes wander until they land on a notepad and pen on the table. You reach for them and begin writing, but Sylus snatches the notepad away after the first word.
“No cheating.” You roll your eyes and scratch his chest.
“You’re saying you adore me.”
You frantically shake your head.
“Ah… you’re saying I’m ridiculously good-looking.”
Another head shake, though this time you also tilt your head slightly to the side because, he truly is ridiculously handsome.
“Madly in love with me?”
This time, you don’t shake your head. Instead, you let out a dramatic sigh and rest your head against his chest. Even as a joke, you don’t want to deny that one. Sylus’ entire body relaxes.
He carefully removes the cat ears from your head before gently smoothing a hand through your hair.
“Silence doesn’t suit you. The love of my life can’t even tell me she loves me back, so what’s the point?”
You lift your head and press a kiss to his lips.
After a few affectionate moments, you pull back and finish the last sip of your wine while Sylus idly plays with the bell on your collar again.
“That stupid bell!” The words suddenly leave your lips, loud and audible.
He smirks at the sound of your voice, while your eyes widen in relief.
“There she is,” Sylus grins. “The antidote in your wine sure took its time to kick in. Now, weren’t you about to give me a love confession?” he teases.
“Nice try, but you were the one putting words in my mouth. I wouldn’t dare say such nice things to you…” you tease him back.
Sylus smiles and presses a kiss to your forehead, “you’re a baaad liar.”
satosugu are cheating on each other with you, part two.
part one here!
you knew your nebulous position as the other woman was never going to last. when you’re the affair partner of both people in the same relationship, it’s inevitable that the truth will eventually come out. you just decide to have it happen on your own terms.
you escalate your own behaviour; with suguru, who you mostly have sex with and share the occasional drink, you up your antics. you leave behind lip gloss, you kiss bruises in places he won’t immediately notice, keep your nails sharper to scrape lines down his skin. you moan in his ear as he fucks you and ask, “what would your husband think, if he walked in here right now? watching me take you like i’m the one you’re married to?” just to relish in the way his voice strangles on a heavy groan as he comes.
with satoru, who’s far more interested in the emotional side of things, you devote yourself fully to the role of secret girlfriend. with suguru, you might be a nice, illicit fuck for when his husband’s busy. with satoru? you’re the partner he wishes his husband was. he takes you on elaborate dates, he buys you flowers, he flourishes with every sweet kiss and whispered affirmation. when he calls you late at night, paralysed with fear because he just knows his husband is cheating, you leave suguru in bed to console him from the safety of your bathroom. he can barely look at you when he fucks you, refuses to turn the lights on, then shudders in your arms as you nurture him in the aftermath.
it’s manipulative. you’re halfway in love with them from the thrill alone. you let it build and build, watch as their marriage slowly falls apart from their own actions, and, when it’s all coming to a climax, you arrange a threesome.
in the end, it’s easy. you invite them. suguru tells you happily that his husband’s out of the prefecture that weekend, and he misses you so much, sweetheart. can’t stop thinking about you. satoru tells you his husband is definitely with that homewrecker, so why can’t he spend a weekend with you? they don’t even care about the third, so long as you make sure they’re hot.
then they both show up, and it’s glorious.
after all, aren’t you blameless? it’s suguru that told you he wants something casual, satoru who said he doesn’t mind if you see someone else at the same time, since he’s doing the same. it’s not your fault they’re cheating. it’s not your fault they’ve accidentally fallen for the same woman outside of their marriage. it’s definitely not your fault that you accidentally arranged a threesome with both of them. how could you know? it’s not like suguru’s ever seen you snooping through his apartment. it’s not as if satoru has given you any details about his wayward husband, either.
there’s a moment of silence. of shock. they stare at each other in obvious disbelief while you smile cluelessly. you tell them you “just know they’re going to get along!” and they “have so much in common.” they don’t correct you. no, suguru does something better:
“it’s nice to meet you,” he says, perfectly neutral. “i’m geto suguru. i’ve heard a lot about you.”
satoru looks heartbroken. he looks angry. “gojo satoru,” he replies. “can’t say i’ve heard much about you.”
“looking forward to learning more, i hope.”
“something like that.”
you’re giddy with excitement. how couldn’t you be? they don’t even know. they’re playing some secret, private game between just the two of them, unaware that you know. that you’re a witness to it—better yet, that you’re an orchestrator.
they fight over who kisses you first, and when you goad them into kissing each other, satoru bites suguru so hard his lip splits. suguru growls, pulls him by the hair, and tells him that if he can’t mind his teeth like a good boy, suguru will tie him up so he won’t be able to use his hands, either.
somehow, that’s exactly what happens.
satoru bites and scratches as you all undress, a ball of tightly wound feeling he can’t quite get ahold of. when suguru kisses your neck, satoru tugs at his long hair so hard his neck cracks. after that, well, suguru doesn’t let it slide. he sits you in satoru’s lap and watches satoru bite his way across your tits before pulling his arms behind his back and tying him to the headboard. satoru’s legs follow, winding his calves to his thighs. it says something that satoru doesn’t argue.
“you act like you two know each other,” you say breathily, chest sore from where satoru bit your breasts on the wrong side of too hard, skin pinkening and indented with the shallow divots of his teeth.
satoru groans, watching as suguru pulls you away, situating you in his lap with your back to his chest and your legs spread over his thighs, presented to his husband. “never met the guy,” he says lowly, “and if i have, i don’t recognise him.”
“don’t worry,” suguru croons. “we are going to get very familiar.” his hand caresses down your side as he says it, thumbs rubbing strong circles into your skin.
satoru’s eyes stay fixed on your face.
suguru takes you apart with careful efficiency, teasing you until your pussy flutters with each brush of his fingers against your thighs, your navel, just short of the apex of your thighs. when he finally touches you where you want him, his fingers are long and slow and languid as he spreads you open, fingering you with lazy contentment as he sucks wet kisses down your neck and back. he leaves you straining and whining, makes satoru watch until he’s groaning as if he can feel the phantom touch of suguru’s every caress.
suguru bends you forward until you’re on your hands and knees, head just barely brushing against satoru’s knees. satoru parts his legs further, staring down at you with something close to awe. a little scared, a little sad, and very aroused. suguru crowds your back, bending over your figure and biting the shell of your ear as he slowly, slowly sinks into you.
“my good little wife,” suguru says, loud enough for satoru to hear. satoru chokes on his next breath, bordering on a sob. “should’ve married you, sweetheart. i could keep you like this forever.”
“suguru—“ satoru pants.
his skin is red and raw from his shuffling, his dick rock hard and straining against his black boxers. from the way his chest heaves, his eyes burn red-rimmed with tears, you’d think he’s the one being fucked. when he catches you looking, he lurches forward with a low groan, cut off as the rope tightens around his muscular thighs. he murmurs your name on a strangled groan.
a hand moves, grabbing you by the cheeks and pulling you to look over your shoulder, neck craning at an awkward angle. “ignore him, sweetheart.” suguru whispers in your ear. “eyes on me. he’s not the one fucking you so good, is he?”
“i could be,” satoru growls. “i have. fucked her hard and fast, like a whore. she must be, if she’s willing to fuck you.”
it’s mean, unnecessarily targeted at you when the ire is really directed at his husband. suguru’s eyes crinkle on a smile.
“that’s not a very nice thing to say, is it? she’s always so sweet, so good. maybe you just don’t fuck her right.”
“i’ll show you—“
you stop listening. suguru thrusts so hard and sure, just slow enough to have you craving more, just fast enough to satisfy you. stamina has always been his strong suit, and he fucks you into over sensitivity. his thumb moves, sitting heavy and mean over your clit, rubbing firmly against you with every thrust forward. you fall apart warbling his name, hands reaching backwards to scratch at his thighs. then he fucks you to tears, keeping eye contact with satoru, muttering filth in your ear all the while.
“should knock you up, so you have no choice but to marry me.” he says, watching as satoru’s mouth drops on a whine. “keep you happy and full in my bed, so you never have to leave. you’d be the perfect wife, wouldn’t you, sweetheart?”
satoru comes untouched with a breathy whine of your name. your name, as if his husband isn’t right there. as if he hadn’t just watched his husband fuck the girl he’d been playing around with. suguru follows soon after, spilling into you unprotected.
they both stay the night. you share a quiet, almost awkward breakfast, where you play the fool and chatter with your usual enthusiasm. when they leave, it’s at the same time.
you don’t know what happens when they get home. what you do know is that suguru texts you a few days later to come over. satoru asks you out on another date. and, a few weeks later, you fall back into bed with the both of them.
"I didn't know you wore makeup." you hold up the concealer in your hand. zaynes eyes flit to the rose gold tube.
"I do. though, only after we started dating." he tells you. "you could say that you introduced me to the various benefits of cosmetics." he gives you a proud little smile.
"such as?" your arm crosses over the other.
"i don't look as tired when we meet after long shifts."
your smile quickly fades. "so you've been hiding your eye bags from me, dr zayne?"
his lips purse. "not hiding, per se." he answers. "you put in a lot of effort when you get ready for our dates."
"my conscience didn't allow the lack of aesthetic effort on my part." you blink at his words. "so I suppose you could say I wanted to look appealing to you." he adds, looking away.
just when you're about to melt, he speaks again. "ah, there's something else." he takes you to his bedroom and opens a drawer.
"I bought this yesterday." he pulls out a chapstick. and then puts it on. like he's been doing it for years.
his eyes twinkle with mischief. "why don't you taste it and tell me if you'd prefer a different flavour?"
caleb gets sooo fucking noisy n desperate when he finally fucks you
you can barely breathe but this man is reciting poems he made twelve years ago while he pounds you to the mattress. he's delirious with affection. your pussy makes him conqeur heaven's worship songs.
"mm—hngh, meimei," he gasps, calebs grip on your waist tight. "y-you're so tight... hahh, around me. did you wait for gege to f-finally take your virginity?"
he's making himself crazy with the very idea that you love him as much he does you. it's driving him mad.
"made gege wait. b-but it's okay.. now gege can use your pretty p-pussy as his personal fuckin' sleeve."
"yeah, meimei. squeeze that pussy for me. t-take my fuckin' cock—oh god..!" he thumbs your clit just how you like it.
"so wet.. so fuckin' wet, meimei. i-is gege's cock too big? is it bullying y-you're pretty... womb?"
you're getting dizzy with each thrust. the cock slides so deep inside of you that it feels like it's knocking against your cervix. he has his chest to yours and his hips slamming down like he's trynna get you knocked up—
and that's what he wants anyways. "g-get pregnant, get pregnant, get pregnant—pleasepleasepleaseplease meimei..!"
caleb whimpers as he comes inside of you. a long drawn out moan is pulled outta him as he buries his seed so deep. he has no plan in letting a single drop leak out
SYNOPSIS: With Her Majesty, The Tsaritsa assigning you and The Doctor to an important research project, the two of you are forced to set aside the not-so-distant past and collaborate with one another. However, after a particular experimental trial, you and The Doctor get into a nasty argument which compels you to finally address the elephant in the room: the lewd incident that happened in his laboratory.
CONTENT WARNING: tenth harbinger!reader, reader is referred to as prevaricator/lady harbinger, slow burn-ish, smut (mdni), unprotected sex, creampie, p in v, slight dom!dottore, degradation (if you squint), arguing while having sex, their foreplay is arguing, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, p with plot-ish, other harbinger cameo, brief mention of death, reader & dottore don’t know how to deal with feelings, very elaborate lab stuff, scientific jargon but you’ll be fine, not beta read.
WORD COUNT: 11,469
SONG RECOMMENDATION: haunted by beyoncé
NOTES: happy vday heres dottore to light up ur valentine’s day hehe !! i’ve been asked a lot about a second part so i said fuck it and wrote one :3 hope you all enjoy! peep the song rec >< i don’t usually do those but these fics were heavily inspired by ‘haunted’! div: cursed-carmine
The Zapolyarny Palace was unusually quiet, stillness lingered in the air as the Harbingers patiently sat along the long table. Candles burned low which illuminated everyone’s stoic faces, an expression each Harbinger wore whenever around one another, careful not to lay out all their cards.
Frost blanketed the stained glass windows, obstructing sunlight from seeping through. All Harbingers in Snezhnaya had been summoned by Her Majesty to discuss current reports and future missions to be assigned. Right now, everyone—even Pierro—except one Harbinger sat on their chair—one that seemed to not care about his colleagues’ precious time.
Annoyance bubbled in your stomach. The Doctor was always like this even if he was summoned by the Tsaritsa herself, he always took his sweet, sweet time. What could possibly be more important than Her Majesty’s orders? You were irritated at his slight tardiness, yes but you complained no further as it meant not having to face him for a longer amount of time.
After the . . . exchange in Dottore’s laboratory yesterday, you were not looking forward to facing him at all which was why you weren’t thrilled when a subordinate had let you know about the Harbinger meeting. Nonetheless, you sat in your chair, composed with your hands folded, and an unreadable expression.
Two minutes had passed before the doors opened to reveal the person you dreaded to see the most.
Dottore strode in, unhurried and calm as though he controlled time itself. Slung over his left arm was a fabric with an all too familiar shade of ivory, it bore the Fatui insignia. Your eyebrow twitched imperceptibly, tension heightened and engulfed the whole room—or maybe that was just on your end? Whatever it was, you did not like it one bit.
It felt like the occurrence at Sandrone’s tea party all over again.
“Ugh, Dottore! Do you know how long we’ve been waiting for you?!” Sandrone broke the thick silence that lingered in the air, voice full of annoyance.
“Ah. Just in time, I see,” The Doctor mused pleasantly, flat out ignoring the Seventh Harbinger. The tone made your gut churn but you didn’t let on; whenever he spoke with such delight, whatever followed was usually the opposite. Just in time? Inconsiderate as always. You thought.
“Prevaricator, you seem to have left your coat in my laboratory.” He stopped just before your chair, his tall stature loomed over your sitting figure as he stood behind. You didn’t turn to face him just yet but his invasive aura was enough to alert you of his presence. Your heart stammered. Dottore could not be serious right now, out of the endless opportunities to return your coat, he chose today? In a Harbinger meeting? Really?
Though, that concern was immediately overridden by the unsolicited stares from not only Sandrone’s piercing gaze but from everyone else who sat on the table—from Pierro all the way to The Balladeer who rarely cared about such trivial matters. All their attention suddenly shifted over to you and Dottore. You hated to admit it but it almost felt like you were cornered by a pack of wolves who had found their dinner for tonight; interest and curiosity lingered in their eyes.
Uncomfortable, you shifted in your chair just a bit. What were you supposed to say? Thank you? Over your dead body, that was the last thing you’d ever utter to Dottore. To make matters even worse and the others’ curiosity to grow, he spoke up once again,
“We had a rather . . . heated exchange.”
You wanted to kill him. Rip his body into shreds until nothing remained.
Dottore was smart, academically smart but in all the years you’ve been with him in the Fatui, this was the most idiotic thing you’ve seen him do. Utterly foolish. What was the relevance of this explanation? Nothing! There was no other implication that could have meant anything else besides what you and him had done yesterday.
The word heated settled into the silence that followed, like a dropped blade.
Sandrone—who sat on your left—slowly turned to face you, azure eyes wide with confusion and laced with something dangerously close to horror. You didn’t dare meet her gaze. Her eyes flickered to your shoulders—no coat—then back to the fabric on Dottore’s arm. Ugh, she didn’t even want to think about what he meant by that, whatever it was, she wanted nothing to do with it.
Why is Dottore even causing a scene?! Sandrone rolled her eyes.
Clearly, there was no denying that the article of clothing The Doctor had was yours, the biggest hint being your coat missing around your shoulders. Naturally, everyone donned theirs whenever they were back in Snezhnaya—apart from the coat being an unwritten uniform within the Harbingers, it helped immensely with braving the harsh icy winds, and heavy snowfall. Today, you managed to layer enough clothing to face the low temperatures.
Heat crept up to your cheeks, you were embarrassed; to think that Dottore heavily implied you and him had sex in his laboratory in front of all the Harbingers was beyond shameful. Oh, how you wanted the marbled floors to open a rift and swallow your body whole only to never return again. Surely, none would have caught on, right? The more you thought about it, the more your mind calculated the possibility that it was impossible for any Harbinger to not understand the implication. Everyone in this room was smart in their own way.
You cleared your throat, attempting to slice through the growing awkwardness inside the hall, “An experiment,”
“We had an escalated disagreement regarding an experiment of mine. I had simply asked for his perspective which I soon realised was a mistake considering our opposing opinions.” You lied, though it was believable enough how natural it sounded—no uncertainty, no hesitation, after all, lying came to you as easy as breathing fresh air. But, the spiteful tone at the end of your sentence was nothing but the truth.
A beat followed then a handful of nods around the long table. Either no one was foolish enough to entertain the matters or they simply could not care less. Sandrone, on the other hand, narrowed her eyes briefly before shifting her gaze elsewhere.
The Seventh Harbinger tried not to think about the fact that you always sought her perspective when it came to obtaining a second opinion for your experiments, not Dottore, not anyone else, her. Nonetheless, Sandrone ignored the pressing thought; as long as it didn’t affect her nor her projects, she didn’t see any reasoning to further investigate the matter.
The only thing that bothered her was your terrible taste. Dottore? Really? Hm, maybe all those chemical fumes you’ve inhaled these past years have finally affected your cognitive ability.
You twisted your torso, finally facing Dottore—who wore a sly smirk—to grab your coat off his arm, “Apologies for my forgetfulness.” You coldly muttered before once again turning to face the table.
Without another word, Dottore strutted to his seat between Regrator and The Balladeer which was situated right across from your own. Now that every Harbinger was here, the only figure to wait for was Her Majesty. You took a quiet deep breath as The Doctor finally sat in his seat, you didn’t lift your gaze to look at him but you already knew his crimson eyes were on you. You shifted in your seat uncomfortably, heat that settled into your skin now burning deeper despite the subzero temperature.
Dottore noticed the slight shift in your mood, like a faint crack in a panel of glass, subtle yet enough to shatter the whole thing once pushed to its breaking point, “Is the hall overheated again, Prevaricator?” He asked, referring to the events of Sandrone’s tea party. You had said the same thing back then after the effects of the aphrodisiac had started to settle in, looking back at it now, Dottore most likely knew you were lying then.
Of course, this was his way of further provoking you under the guise of concern.
You stared at him. Hard. Which only pulled an amused smile.
Too focused on trying to split apart the Second Harbinger with your stare, you didn’t notice the way Regrator’s gaze shifted between you and his friend, the corners of his mouth curling upwards in pure amusement. Oh, he absolutely knew the deal between you and Dottore, and the best part? He found out all by himself.
Regrator had been meaning to pay Dottore a visit sometime to tell the latter that funding for his research project had been approved, which he found himself doing yesterday. As usual, he made the effort of paying a visit to the Experimental Bureau, specifically to Dottore’s laboratory.
Everything was normal until Regrator had made it to the hallway outside his friend’s lab; at first, he thought his ears simply betrayed him or that the metal walls creaked unusually loud but the more time he spent at the deserted hallway, the clearer those sounds became.
Sounds that screamed anything but appropriate.
For a moment, Regrator listened, brows furrowed with curiosity—either a pair was idiotic enough to fool around inside Dottore’s laboratory or it was Dottore himself who fooled around with someone.
His question was soon answered as lewd moans turned into coherent words, “Ngh! Dottore! Right there!” He froze upon hearing his friend’s name uttered by an extremely familiar voice. Was it one of Dottore’s subordinates? No, there was a certain tone laced in those words; despite this mystery woman’s strained voice, it held some sort of iciness to it.
A face flashed into Regrator’s mind.
Prevaricator?
No, it couldn’t be. Seeing as how you treated Dottore like he was a mere fly on the wall made this assumption impossible; you ignored the latter with every chance you got so it did not make sense at all. But the woman sounded just like you.
Before Regrator could delve deeper into his thoughts, the sound of Dottore’s voice breathlessly moaned out not your title but your name. That alone answered every question in his mind—so, it was you. Regrator could only chuckle in pure amusement. Dottore had opened up to him about your rather annoying characteristics, and how the former wanted to break that façade of yours.
He didn’t ask for a reason and simply nodded along at his words; in all honesty, Regrator did not deem you worthy of his time, you had nothing interesting going on except for your projects—which he also deemed unworthy of funding—so he didn’t understand why you had suddenly piqued his friend’s interest.
To each their own, I guess. He thought to himself before deciding to finally walk away and give the two of you some much needed privacy.
Regrator watched as the scene unfolded before him, amusement gleamed in his eyes as he observed your rigid posture and Dottore’s mischievous demeanour, a second any longer and you might’ve just wielded your Delusion right then and there but alas, tension between you and the Second Harbinger faded as quickly as it rose upon Her Majesty’s arrival.
All Harbingers shifted their attention to the Cryo Archon, each stood from their chairs with appropriate haste and bowed their heads as she walked in, icy heels clicking with each calculated step; a slight shiver ran down your spine, you never really got used to Her Majesty’s presence despite all the years you have served her.
The Tsaritsa took her seat at the head of the table and the Harbingers followed suit, sitting back down to finally commence.
“Let us proceed.” She announced.
As if on cue, Pierro slid over a couple of stacked files to Her Majesty. This was going to be a long meeting. Reports were delivered, assignments were confirmed, and future campaigns were outlined in heavy detail. Each Harbinger listened keenly and answered when addressed, yourself included. Though, most of the files concerned either Regrator or The Rooster, and even The Balladeer and Rosalyne who were once more briefed of their upcoming assignment in Inazuma.
Though, surprisingly enough, she had called out your name along with Dottore’s. The two of you looked up in unison, awaiting for Her Majesty’s next words as she flipped through the documents,
“Reports indicate certain Cryo-saturated environments have produced a consistent effect: emotional dampening without loss of cognition. This certain phenomenon is able to dull fear, recede pain, and dampen any emotional hindrance which ultimately improves efficiency—assets we need for our operatives, however, the side effect is deemed unstable.”
Your brows furrowed. Cryo-saturated environments? You assumed it was influenced by Cryo energy instead of its physical form such as ice and snow—a simple example of this would be a poisonous chemical gas emitted from a volatile experiment. When a person is exposed to poisonous gas for an extended amount of time, it would be fatal, you guessed it was the same for this phenomenon.
“Once Cryo exposure ends, suppressed emotions rebound, it is volatile and unpredictable, a Fatui weakness. Sudden emotional changes, heightened physical sensitivity and loss of emotional regulation are the most common rebounds as reported by operatives.”
The Tsaritsa continued to explain how a certain Fatui operative violently lashed out at his comrades which ultimately led to a physical confrontation. Thankfully, the operative had been subdued, and under intense monitoring for further behavioural tests; though, this wasn’t the only occurrence.
“This can cause catastrophic failures on our end. I want this understood, refined, and controlled. If emotional suppression can be enforced without such rebounds, it would be an outstanding weapon for the Fatui.”
The Tsaritsa’s icy gaze settled on The Doctor, “You will lead this research,” Then, it shifted on to you, “You will assist as a regulator; your natural restraint deems you an ideal threshold for this experiment.”
Her Majesty was correct, you prided yourself on restraint and emotional distance—a defense mechanism you learned and bore upon being bestowed your title. Your natural emotional restraint paired with Cryo-induced restraint made you the ideal threshold; it wasn’t out of the ordinary for the Tsaritsa to assign you on this project, and you particularly had no qualms with it but the mere thought of Dottore overseeing the entire experiment did not sound pleasant at all.
“Prevaricator is not to be treated as a subject but as a threshold at which immense emotional suppression becomes dangerous instability. Am I clear, Doctor?”
Dottore smiled behind his pointed mask, “As you command, your Majesty.” Somehow, you didn’t believe a single word of it. The Tsaritsa nodded before closing the file, “Immediate results are to be discussed with me. I expect no less from the two of you.”
With that, the meeting finally came to an end, tension in the room lifted as Her Majesty left without another word—as if the hall itself let out a breath of relief. As everyone piled out of the room, your mind began to ponder over certain protocols and boundaries for the upcoming experiment, something needed written on the experimental contract.
A week had passed before the initial trial of the experiment, this was primarily due to the lack of apparatus needed to simulate a Cryo-saturated environment. Meanwhile, you had used that time to gather further information by observing and running common tests on affected Fatui operatives which gave rather fruitful results. Fortunately, Dottore was too busy designing a suitable apparatus for the experiment to accompany your rounds.
A handful of findings seemed to all state the same rebound effect—violence, which were primarily from Fatui operatives. Thus, you hypothesized that one’s rebound effect was heavily influenced by their environment. Fatui operatives were trained soldiers, experienced combatants capable of committing heinous crimes; in short, when an individual was used to a ‘violent’ environment, they would commit the same act of violence under the influence of a rebound effect.
This would also be true for an individual with a ‘depressing’ environment which would result in unpredictable sorrowful behaviour as a rebound effect.
Another thing you hypothesized was that the degree of Cryo exposure was proportional to the degree of rebound effect. Thus, a high concentration of Cryo exposure led to a stronger rebound effect.
You were fully convinced of this hypothesis, even Dottore himself seemed to be on the same page as well. But of course, whether this was true or not solely depended on the trials.
The laboratory was cold—deliberately so.
Cryo conduits lined the walls of a vertical glass chamber—a space large enough to house a human. A faint layer of frost lined its seams as the engine whirred to life, it glowed faintly as energy surged through it. You watched from inside the chamber as Dottore adjusted the control panel just a few feet away. Composed and quiet, your hands remained behind your back, coat long discarded due to potential false readings.
“Baseline readings first. This is simply to establish what ‘normal’ looks like for you.” Dottore calmly stated before pressing a button.
With that, a thin metal band slid into place around your wrist, it was icy against your skin. Another rested lightly at your throat. “Do not be alarmed, these aren’t restraints. They monitor pulse, skin temperature, muscle tension and any changes in breath rhythm.”
“In other words,” You started. “You’ll be notified of any slight changes, even as miniscule as a flinch.”
He smiled, “Precisely.”
The monitors against your skin flickered to life, a faint glow of red tainted your vision as it measured your baseline readings. “Heart rate is steady. Respiration controlled. Emotional markers?” Dottore monotonously asked as he read the panel screen before him.
“Neutral.” You replied.
“As expected, you are an excellent control subject.”
Your eyes narrowed at his words, annoyance bubbled in your chest, “I am not a subject.” He paused his ministrations, “Ah, right. My apologies. Force of habit.” A low chuckle escaped his lips which further fuelled the negative emotion inside you.
“Relax, Prevaricator. False readings on the first trial are not acceptable.” You took a deep breath and calmed yourself. As much as you hated to admit it, Dottore was right; Her Majesty had entrusted you to an important task and it was your duty to fulfill it even if it meant having to push your disdain for Dottore aside.
Though, there was a much, much bigger matter to be addressed concerning the two of you but neither you nor Dottore dared to even speak a word of it. The last it was addressed was during the Harbinger meeting, you absolutely have not forgotten about the humiliation you felt. You reminded yourself to confront him about his idiocy in the future.
Silence followed before the Cryo field activated.
The temperature didn’t drop instantaneously, it slid downwards, akin to the feeling of sinking into cold water inch by inch. You felt it first in your lungs, the air grew sharper, it mimicked the feeling of thin oxygen in higher altitudes. Faint clouds of steam formed as you breathed.
“This exposure mimics the amount of Cryo energy our operatives were exposed to. It isn’t capable of freezing tissue but it is capable of influencing one’s nervous system. Cold slows things down, including cognitive signals sent to one’s body; pain, fear—emotional spikes, they all rely on speed.”
Dottore made another adjustment as your readings remained neutral, this time, the cold deepened, you assumed the exposure was about one and a half times more than the previous amount by how much your skin began to react.
“Report.” Dottore said.
“I feel . . . Slightly detached. As if reactions are optional.” Dottore nodded at your words, he jotted down a handful of observations, “Good. That means suppression is finally working for you.” As per your findings, this result was expected—soldiers had reported that they felt detached from reality, as though they watched themselves from outside their body.
On the monitors, your vitals remained stable, no signs of fluctuation nor distress, everything seemed to be in place. Dottore was pleased, very much so, that meant he could probably push this a little further.
The Cryo field intensified slightly.
The laboratory grew quieter not due to the lack of sound but because it felt simply unimportant to you, your cognition no longer registered the hum of the machines nor the words that Dottore absentmindedly uttered to himself. Your consciousness remained intact but the emotional weight of thought simply vanished as if it weren’t there in the first place; even Dottore’s presence felt like an afterthought.
“Pain test.” He stated, pressing another control. Immediately, a brief, controlled electrified pulse shot through your wrist and neck. You felt it vibrate against your skin but pain was absent.
His pen paused mid-sentence, brows lifting imperceptibly as he looked up at your figure, “How remarkable.” Dottore pondered to himself, this was still only the first phase of the project, and he had yet to be presented with much results but he wanted to see where your painless state took you. He amped the pulse a little higher than before, now, its current level was enough to at least knock out a human. Dottore wasn’t worried at all, you were a Harbinger after all, what harm could a mere shock do?
He pressed the same control button as before, “Another one. Response?” “Registered. Sensation still absent.”
He nodded at your words once again, jotting down every response in his notebook. A few more minutes passed before Dottore ultimately lowered the Cryo field in a manner where your body could appropriately adjust to the temperature changes until the chamber itself powered off. Heat slowly embraced your icy skin once again, it felt akin to standing next to a fireplace on a snowy night. You staggered a little, hands immediately coming up to stabilise your body.
“You did exceptionally well. That’s all for today. We shall resume again tomorrow once your rebound effect has calmed.” Pure delight laced his words as he watched you step out from the chamber. Your mind felt hazy and the last couple of minutes felt distant but other than that, there was nothing out of the ordinary. At least not yet.
Dottore walked around the console, moving closer to where you stood just outside the chamber, “Per Her Majesty’s order, you are to be monitored closely until this project has officially concluded. In other words, you will be staying in the palace quarters.” You had no qualms with that, it only made sense to be monitored closely especially during the rebound effect period which was now.
A rebound effect for normal humans can be easily controlled and contained but as for a Harbinger like yourself, it would be a completely different topic. You had no doubts in The Doctor’s capabilities of subduing your imminent side effect, he was more than capable of doing so. But if your personal feelings were to come into play, you’d rather have someone else. Anyone but Dottore.
“As head researcher, I will personally monitor your conditions. Should you have any queries, I am only down the corridor from your quarters.”
“One more thing. Do not, under any circumstances, remove those bands around your neck and wrist. They are there to indicate any behavioural changes.”
You wordlessly nodded, too tired to ask any questions. Her Majesty may have clearly stated not to treat you as a subject but you sure did feel like one.
Upon returning to your quarters, you felt nothing but pure irritation, you concluded that it was the rebound effect happening. Though, in your case, it wasn’t enough to get violent nor involuntarily lash out at subordinates. You only managed to control it since you were exposed to Cryo energy levels which weren’t potent enough to significantly alter your cognition nor induce the effect.
Despite that, you still tried to calm yourself down by going over your notes, eyes tracing each and every sentence to the point where they would be engraved in your mind.
Hypothesis #1: An individual’s environment directly influences their rebound effect.
Hypothesis #2: The amount of Cryo energy exposure is directly proportional to the degree of an individual’s rebound effect. For example, the stronger the exposure, the stronger the rebound effect.
Rebound effect: An unpredictable effect induced by prolonged Cryo energy exposure in Cryo-saturated environments.
Cryo-saturated environments: Certain areas where Cryo energy is concentrated. (Civilians and Operatives are at risk)
The next day, everything felt normal, the feeling of irritation was long gone and your vital signs were stable—devoid of any significant fluctuations. Just like yesterday, Dottore read your baseline readings out loud before the experiment officially commenced for the day.
Back inside the glass chamber, you shifted your weight from one foot to another as he pressed a set of buttons on the console, “We will continue where we left off yesterday. As per protocol, I will gradually increase the Cryo field to avoid sudden exposure in cold temperatures.” He stated.
The experiment went on for a couple more hours, a repeat process of being exposed to increased levels of Cryo energy then tested for pain. Dottore may be devoted to his experiments but at least he was human enough to incorporate breaks in between which allowed your body to recuperate for the next test. During breaks, you merely sat on one of the metal stools while Dottore wordlessly reviewed data, it was silent but that was what you needed. Though, you couldn’t help but feel the nagging feeling that he was somewhat on edge about something.
Despite only standing inside the chamber, the energy exposure was definitely a weight on your body, you could hold off far better than a human could but even Harbingers had their limits.
And today, Dottore seemed eager to test that limit.
With you back inside the chamber, he increased the Cryo tenfold which was a significant jump from the first exposure yesterday. At first, everything felt fine until several seconds passed where the cold turned into hard pressure. Something inside you resisted, akin to a muscle tightening inside a cast. Your frozen fingers curled involuntarily, nails marked your palms, and your jaw tightened.
“Dottore, something’s pushing back.” You let out a heavy exhale. He looked up instantaneously, “That must be the instability. What you’re feeling is your suppressed emotional response attempting to reassert itself—think of it like holding a spring down,”
“The longer it’s held down, the more force it stores. Consequently, the more force it stores, the harder the rebound.” Dottore continued, his crimson gaze shifted between the monitor that displayed your vital signs and your figure inside the chamber.
You inhaled sharply. Your pulse spiked not out of fear but something dangerously close to frustration. Irritation. A need to move. He took a mental note of your increased pulse but didn’t dare to stop the experiment.
“Disengage it. Now.” You gritted your teeth. Weight pressed further into your body; it came from a million different directions and felt like it had trapped you in place.
“One moment longer. This is the critical threshold.” Dottore replied, eyes fixed on the readings.
Ten seconds had passed, you were at your absolute limit. Pressure from the Cryo energy felt too heavy to bear and your mind constantly slipped in and out a haze, “Dottore!” You yelled, sharp and icy. A split second. Then, the Cryo field cut, the pressure against your skin instantly shattered which allowed sensation to rush in. Your skin prickled, heart pounding harder than it should have.
You staggered half a step, catching yourself before your weakened body could kiss the metal floor. Exiting the chamber, your blood boiled, it didn’t matter if the cold lingered on your skin, you were absolutely seething. Anger engulfed every crevice of your body, it encased you in a dangerous slurry of negative emotions—ones you could not simply ignore.
Really, there was only one person to receive the sharp end of your rare temper—Il Dottore.
The latter immediately noticed the look on your face, it was pure anger, something he had never seen from you before. Despite your clearly irritated mood, he hastily wrote down this observation: ‘Tenfold Cryo exposure resulted in an on-set rebound effect for Prevaricator.’ There was no doubt the surge of your emotions was under the influence of a rebound effect.
“You pushed it further than you said you would.” Sharp fury laced your accusatory words, gaze solely focused on the man before you. Technically, Dottore did push the experiment beyond what was agreed for today’s trial but could you really blame him? Previous tests yielded insignificant results, how could he present little to no experimental outcomes to Her Majesty? How could he synthesize something to combat the phenomenon if results showed a plateau?
In crucial experiments like these, unpredictable adjustments have to be made or one will end up repeating an experiment a million times with the same set of results.
Dottore inhaled, “Indeed. Because I needed to know where you would break.”
Your eyes narrowed at his words, the blazing fire in your chest burning a deep blue, “I didn’t break.”
“No,” He started, watching you very carefully. “But you bent.”
“You deviated from the protocol. You don’t get to do that.” “As a matter of fact, I do—if the subject continues to function, there is no need to halt the experiment.”
The words landed wrong. Subject.
You forced a breath, a chance at trying to calm yourself but irritation leaked through anyway, stubborn and unwelcome. “You are tasked to find the threshold, not to test its limit. Was that order not simplified enough for you? Or do you lack the cognitive capacity to understand?” Your heart pounded hard against your chest, as if you were in fight or flight mode.
Normally, you didn’t dare speak this way to any Harbinger even if all you had for them was disdain but today, your tongue did not seem to hold back its serrated insults.
Dottore’s jaw tightened, how dare you question his intellect over such trivial matters? Still, he was well aware that you were experiencing a rebound effect and thus decided not to entertain the argument any further, “Is this your attempt at getting me mad? I understand your complaint but I am not running these experiments to simply waste time with plateaued results.” Without another word, he returned to his notes like nothing.
That did it for you. If Dottore was going to give you the cold shoulder then fine, you’d cut today’s experiment short. He noticed as you grabbed your belongings with haste and anger before heading to the door.
“And where do you think you’re going, Prevaricator?” You didn’t bother replying.
Yes, you were fully aware that your current behaviour was a side effect of concentrated Cryo exposure—every negative expression and petty insult—but your body seemed to have a mind of its own because no matter how much you tried to hold back, it seemed to push further and it was only getting worse.
Dottore wasn’t the type to concern himself with such petty behaviour, nor was he an individual who goes after someone but you were a liability, and the Tsaritsa had specifically ordered him to monitor you. So, with a deep exhale, Dottore carefully piled his notes on the table before tailing after you. He’d be responsible for any damages caused by his subject, simply thinking about it gave him a headache.
Luckily, the afternoon skies were clear and devoid of any snowfall, it made your walk back to the Zapolyarny Palace much, much easier. The Experimental Bureau wasn’t far from the Palace but it did require a bit of walking which you didn’t really mind, maybe by the time you’ve reached its grand doors, at least half of the anger inside you would’ve dissipated into the air. Maybe.
With the thick layers of snow swallowing all sound from your surroundings, all you could hear was your own laboured breathing and the crunch of your heavy steps against the icy pavement. Puffs of thick, ivory smoke formed with every exhale. Who the hell did Dottore think he was?! Sure, he was assigned as head researcher but that did not give him the right to deviate experimental protocols! And he dared call himself a scholar?
After a few minutes of grumbling to yourself about a certain Harbinger, you finally reached the Palace doors. On either side of the doors, two guards who were stationed dipped their heads in respect upon your presence. Though, you didn’t catch the way their gaze met as if they were having a telepathic conversation about something interesting.
“Lady Prevaricator. Lord Dottore.”
You stopped in your tracks, just before you could step foot inside the Palace. Were your ears deceiving you? Dottore? Out of pure instinct, you looked over your coat only to find the last person you wanted to see.
Unbelievable. He was like a pest.
You kept on walking until your feet led you all the way to the upper corridors where your quarters resided. “Are you finally done behaving like a child?” Dottore called out from behind, clearly annoyed. “I did not order you to follow me, Doctor.” Before you could close the door, he crossed the corridor in large strides and held it open with a gloved hand.
“Leave.” “No.” Dottore countered, instead, he took the initiative to step inside the room causing you to take three steps back. You watched carefully as he closed the door behind him.
“What, then? Are you here to witness me come undone so you can finally see what’s underneath all these ‘false layers’?” You spat, every accusatory word laced with nothing but venom. Oh, you absolutely have not forgotten about his words—how he wanted to strip you of your façade. “Or are you here to simply humiliate me the same way you did in the Harbinger meeting?”
Dottore tilted his head slightly, feigning innocence, you noticed how his lips curled into a half smile, “Humiliate you? My, that is an accusation I cannot seem to follow.” The fucker knew exactly what you were speaking of and apparently, he had the audacity to find it all too amusing.
You, on the other hand, were absolutely seething to the point where you thought of a million ways to rip him apart bit by bit. You bit the inside of your cheeks, jaw tight and face hardened, “It was novel of you to return one’s belongings to its owner. Why did you do it, huh? To humiliate me in front of all our colleagues and imply we had sex in your laboratory?” You scoffed, the scowl on your face deepened; you’ve held off confronting him about this for the sake of professionalism but now seemed like the perfect time.
He wasn’t willing to admit it but Dottore was rather caught off guard by your boldness, it was interesting to say the least. He did not expect you to bring up the not-so-distant past with him as these last few days, you’ve acted like what happened between the two of you was a mere hallucination.
“Is that the type of person you are, Doctor? Do you get off on humiliating others?” You took a step closer, a hint of dangerous confidence in your gaze. Of course, the Second Harbinger wasn’t one to back down, “You’re rather crude aren’t you, Prevaricator?”
“Call me names all you want, Doctor but let me remind you one thing, I’ve never laced anyone’s drink with an aphrodisiac. And for what reason?” Dottore stood there, the soles of his feet rooted to the ground. He couldn’t quite decipher it but there was a strange sensation in him—amusement? Anger? He didn’t know. A beat of silence stretched after your words so you took the opportunity to press even further.
“Sexual gratification?” You took a step forward.
“Or to simply feel the touch of a woman?” Another step.
Dottore’s jaw tightened. His gaze landed on your lips—how they curled into a sly smile as if you had the upper hand. Oh, how much the look on your face infuriated him.
“You spoke to me of release while I was under the aphrodisiac’s effects yet maybe you were the one who needed release.”
He closed the remaining distance between your bodies with a singular step, “From what I recall, you were the one begging for it. Have you forgotten, Prevaricator or did you need me to remind you?” Before you could reply, Dottore spoke up once again, “Tch. Though, I won’t be surprised if you had forgotten. You always act like nothing matters to you, do you not?’ His voice was low, and was that . . . a hint of disappointment in his tone?
Confusion flickered in your chest. Wait. Was The Doctor upset at the fact that you had been acting as though nothing happened between the two of you? Bitterness was more than evident in his words—so evident you could almost taste it on your tongue. It sat heavy and uncomfortable.
“Are your feelings hurt, Doctor? Why? Did it mean something to you?”
It was a genuine question but somehow your delivery made it seem like you were mocking him—maybe you were but your curiosity remained. Dottore’s attitude shifted instantaneously, your words must have struck a nerve; his lips curled into a nasty snarl, gaze hardened beneath his pointed mask, “You know, Prevaricator, I was quite delighted mere moments ago to have your façade stripped clean but now you’re just being a brat.”
Before you could fully process his words, a gloved hand cupped either side of your jaw. The cool fabric dug into your soft skin as his grip tightened firmly, holding your head in place. Your breath quickened but your face remained unchanged, brows tightly knitted together. From underneath his pointed mask, Dottore’s crimson gaze studied the interesting expression painted on your face.
How amusing, excitement sparked within his chest—it burned his ribcage into a thousand flames. Silence stretched for what felt like eons, only your bated breath could be heard in the room. Your body felt completely numb, the only sensation felt was his gloved hand pressed on your face as though it belonged there. Despite your body practically screaming at you to push him away, you didn’t, instead, you waited for his next move.
“You infuriate me.” Dottore’s words were sharp but his tone completely betrayed him—it was low, soft around the edges and held something much more.
The air shifted as his words lingered like an undying smoke. Then, Dottore pulled your face into his, closing the remaining distance between as he completely devoured your lips, a garbled sound was all you could let out. Your body did not deny him, instead, it mirrored his ferocity which further invited Dottore to firmly cup your face with both hands and deepen the kiss. It was sloppy and heated, the same way he had kissed you back then in his laboratory—with fervour, as if to release all pent up anger.
Dottore briefly pulled away eliciting a pained whimper from you—embarrassingly enough but your whole body was in a state of pure haze that you simply didn’t care. With a swift move, he took off his pointed mask and merely discarded it on the ground with a soft thud.
Tsk, what a hindrance. He thought.
Swollen lips parted, you watched in slight awe as Dottore revealed the mystery beneath the mask.
This was the first time you’ve seen him without his mask despite all the years you’ve been in the Fatui together. Without the mask, you could see how crimson blanketed his cheeks, and how his carmine coloured eyes were lust-filled—full of hunger, the need to devour. You hated to admit it but he was simply exquisite.
Once again, Dottore pulled you in with urgency but this time, he shoved his tongue deep into your mouth until your tastebuds remembered only him. Wet sounds and occasional grunts from Dottore filled the entire space, it made you dizzy. Everything. Everything was him—from the tongue inside your mouth all the way to the intoxicating scent that filled your senses.
You found your idle hands undoing the azure scarf secured around his neck, revealing his collarbones. After the fabric was mindlessly discarded, your hands wandered down the expanse of his chest, attempting to loosen and remove the harness that wrapped around his torso to no avail due to your clouded state. It also didn’t help how Dottore roughly handled you while kissing which allowed little space to work around.
Annoyed, you pulled away with a click of your tongue, eyes set on the leather material that encased his torso. Dottore watched, panting heavily, as you wrapped your hands around the fabric and tore it apart one by one until it slid off his body like a limp snake.
It fell with a loud clink as it hit the floor. It wasn’t really novel for a Harbinger to rip apart a mere fabric but witnessing you use your strength on something other than combat absolutely had Dottore’s pants tightening to the point where he had to physically suppress a pained groan. Though, his heavy breathing and lust-filled gaze gave it all away.
With the restraints long gone, Dottore took the initiative to remove the remaining pieces of clothing from his torso—from his gloves all the way to his cerulean button up beneath which revealed his bare physique. He wasn’t too bulky nor was he too thin, subtle muscle definition was visible from underneath his skin.
As if he were a magnet, you hastily marked his exposed neck, placing wet, open-mouthed kisses down, down, down ‘til your lips reached his chest. You sucked on a spot just above his sensitive nipple which drew a sharp hiss from him, bare hands flying to your ivory coat to remove it.
Then, you moved a few centimetres downwards, giving attention to his pebbled nipple by swirling your tongue around it a few times before giving it a gentle bite. Caught off guard, Dottore let out a low groan, his hands rested on your hips tightening ever so slightly.
The two of you continued this game of undressing and marking one another until there was no article of clothing left to remove, and no skin untouched by one’s lips. Lovebites were scattered across Dottore’s chest and abdomen while your marks were mostly down the column of your neck and the top of your breasts.
Somehow, you both ended up on the foot of the bed—Dottore with his back against the ivory sheets, feet planted on the floor, and your knees on either side of his hips, bare cunt hovering just a few inches above his hard cock.
“Tell me, Doctor, is this all part of your plan, too? To rile me up with help of the rebound effect so you can manipulate the situation into bedding me?”
“Tsk. You speak as if you’re not willingly lowering yourself on my cock—Haah! You have the freedom to walk out this room, Prevaricator, so why haven’t you? I’m guessing we both want the same thing, no?” Dottore hissed as your wet cunt greedily swallowed every inch of him. Hands that rested on the flesh of your hips squeezed the spot to ground himself from the overwhelming warmth of your cunt. Oh, how shamelessly you took him in, so eager, so wet. You attempted to scoff at his words but miserably failed due to the feeling of Dottore’s cock nestled deep inside your hot cunt.
Fuck, he was long. Obviously, this wasn’t the first time he had been inside but you still needed time to get used to his length, especially with the blunt tip flush against your sweet spot. Your hands found comfort atop his bare chest, palms flat against his feverish skin while your nails shamelessly dug into it, leaving crescent-shaped indentations.
“Quit acting like you know me.” You grunted as he adjusted his hips, causing his tip to briefly rub against your g-spot. You keened over as an electrifying shock shot up your spine at the stimulation. Dottore wore a smug expression on his flushed face to which you only replied with a glare and a subtle squeeze around his hard cock, pulling a low groan from him.
For a moment, you took the opportunity to really drink in the sight before you—Dottore’s pale blue locks scattered around his head like a faux halo, his glassy crimson eyes locked onto yours, his swollen lips parted to let out heavy breaths. You were one hundred percent sure no one had ever seen him in such a scandalous state.
Without a warning, you began to move, a slow yet steady ascend with the push of your knees against the soft mattress. The languid drag of your tight walls had Dottore gripping your hips even tighter, the knot between his brows deepening with increased pleasure. You sat up with the blunt tip remaining inside your cunt before steadily dragging yourself down his entire shaft ‘til your ass met his heavy balls.
You repeated the slow process a few more times to get used to his length, pulling low moans and groans from both you and Dottore, “Haah—Ngh! Is this all you’ve got? Considering how wet you are, I would’ve assumed you to be a bit more . . . desperate.” Dottore grunted, expertly thrusting upwards to meet your hips as they came down. A moan of his name was all you could respond with, toes curling from the sudden sensation.
Red ribbons decorated his skin as you dragged your nails across his bare chest, “Dottore! Mhm!” You doubled over, your naked skin met his own as you nestled your face between his neck and shoulder. Despite your limp torso, your lower half desperately worked itself to ride Dottore’s cock at a faster pace; up and down, up and down, up and down until all one could hear was the lewd squelching sounds of your wet cunt repeatedly swallowing him.
Along with the smell of sex, shameless moans filled the air and names were chanted like sacred prayers. Impatient, Dottore began to meet your movements by thrusting his hips upward once again, intensifying the pleasure for both of you.
In the back of your lust-filled mind, you felt relieved you didn’t have to do all the work as your quads were starting to burn from the repetitive movement. Loud sounds of skin slapping echoed within your quarters as you and Dottore moved in unison.
“Ngh—Where’d all that ferocity from earlier go—Haah—Prevaricator?” He angled his head to slot his mouth just above your ear to nibble the top of it, hot breath fanning across the side of your face leaving a trail of goosebumps. You shuddered at his ministrations and cursed him in your mind, how could Dottore be this smug while being able to handle the burden of pleasure? Truth be told, it pressed into your feverish skin like a stubborn force.
Beads of sweat lined your forehead as you rode him, the painful burn in your legs slowly disappeared as ecstasy took hold of your body. Your body shook, colourful moans and dainty whimpers left your parted lips which further fuelled Dottore’s merciless thrusts. Oh, how he missed hearing your beautiful song. Knowing it was his sole doing, pride bloomed across his chest for such a rare feat.
The heavy slap of his balls stung like a hundred needles but god did it heighten the pleasure you felt in your wet cunt. It made your head spin.
“R-Right there—Ngh! More, please!” At your desperate pleas, Dottore’s cock twitched and whether you had noticed or not, you didn’t let on simply because you only sought out one thing—an orgasm.
He picked up his pace, every hard thrust pulled out oxygen from your lungs and it absolutely had you gasping, and panting for air like a shameless dog devoid of any decorum. Though, you did not care for how you looked, not when Dottore’s cock pistoned in and out of you as if it was its only purpose. You stiffened with pure pleasure, a familiar knot deep in your stomach slowly unraveling as ecstasy engulfed both your bodies.
The sharp sting of your nails fuelled each drive of Dottore’s hips which caused your limp body to jolt with every upward thrust he gave. At this point, your hips no longer moved as he held them in place with a firm grip, they remained elevated in the air as Dottore fucked himself into you. With the soles of his feet fully planted on the floor, he used every bit of strength left in his body to bring the both of you into an orgasm. He found it a little hard to thrust inside your sopping cunt with how tightly you clenched around his cock; though, he was not complaining.
“Please don’t stop, Dottore! Mhm!” You sounded so vulnerable it almost made Dottore cum right then and there.
He clicked his tongue, “Only a fool would do such a thing.”
By the sound of his breathless response and the slight stutter of his hips, you could tell he, too, was close. After a few more deep thrusts, Dottore stilled inside you, cock buried to the hilt as you both came together. White, hot pleasure surged within your body as the knot inside your stomach harshly unravelled, you clenched around his hard cock and bit into the bare skin of his shoulder, muffling your moans.
You rode out your orgasm by desperately fucking yourself onto him which earned a low grown from Dottore, followed by a harsh slap of your ass that had you biting harder into his shoulder. The two of you remained entangled with one another for a minute or two, unspeaking and unmoving, only letting out heavy pants as you both came down from your highs.
You slumped against his sweat-covered body, full weight resting on top of Dottore, every fibre of your being had practically given up on you not only from sex but from the experiment earlier as well.
Heavy exhaustion gnawed its way through your skin and into your very bones, you would have let it carry you into slumber if it weren’t for the Harbinger beneath you manhandling your limp body. With his cock still buried deep inside and arms around your naked body, he expertly manoeuvred both of you so that you were positioned higher up into the mattress.
You found yourself facing the ivory sheets beneath, hands and knees firmly planted atop them while Dottore slotted himself just behind your ass. The entire process had his blunt tip teasing into your sweet spot and you swore you saw stars from overstimulation.
“Dottore—! Fuck, stop moving, will you?” You hissed, reaching a hand behind your back to push his hips away only for him to take hold of your wrist and pin it against your skin. He let out a low chuckle, “Only a few minutes ago you were begging me not to stop. I am merely fulfilling your wish, am I not?”
With one hand on your hip and the other secured around your wrist, Dottore pulled all the way back before slamming his hips against your ass causing your whole body to jolt forward, your arms wobbling as they fully gave up on you which left your torso flush against the mattress. You moaned the shape of his name, pleasure once again bloomed inside your stomach as he slammed in and out repeatedly.
Having not given enough time to come down from your orgasm earlier, you were far too sensitive for the merciless thrusts Dottore gave you—it had your body uncontrollably shaking like a branch braving the city’s harsh winds. Hot tears lined your eyes and rolled down your heated cheeks.
You fisted the mattress beneath you, pounding the soft material the same way Dottore did to your cunt, the pleasure you felt was simply too much to handle and you knew he wasn’t about to make it any easier for you.
The bed creaked under the weight of his harsh thrusts, the headboard repeatedly slamming against the wall behind it. None of you cared, these halls were empty anyway and any cleaning personnel were prohibited from stepping into these corridors unless they were scheduled to clean.
In short, you could make as much sinful noise as you wanted. The palace was vast and its walls were thick enough to swallow any sounds within it.
Dottore briefly bent down, his arms wrapping around your torso to swiftly haul up the entirety of your body so that only your knees remained planted in the sheets. With your back secured against his chest, he snaked one arm around your waist while the other lightly gripped your neck to hold your head in place.
The new angle had his cock reaching a little deeper than before, causing you to arch your back and pathetically whimper his name into the damp air, “D-Dottore! Mhm—haah! Please!” He continued fucking into you with the same pace he set earlier, his lips finding its way on the spot just below your ear to nip and suck.
Your eyes rolled back at the feel of teeth and tongue, hands coming up to claw at the hand around your neck, there really wasn’t anything else you could do but scratch and scream his name like your life depended on it but Dottore didn’t mind at all. If anything, he was more than pleased you were taking him so, so well and oh, the sounds you made.
They were heavenly.
“Well, aren’t you obedient—haah! You act as if you’re tough and defiant when all along, you’re just someone who wants to be fucked and pounded, no?” You clenched at his filthy words, god, you were so close. No thoughts apart from pleasure ran through your mind, all you could think of was your impending orgasm and Dottore who oh, so deliciously fucked your cunt with such fervour.
“Close! ‘M close—ngh!” It didn’t take long for you to reach a second orgasm but this time, it hit harder. Your body convulsed from raw pleasure as you wantonly moaned out Dottore’s name loud enough for it to echo down the corridors outside. He followed suit, letting out a drawled grunt as your walls clenched around his hard cock. Another round of his hot load painted your walls ivory and stuffed you to the brim, you whimpered as it dripped out of your cunt and down your inner thighs.
Dottore gave a few shallow thrusts to fuck his cum deep inside before letting both your bodies fall flat atop the mattress, “Surely, you can give me another one?” His tone was laced with mockery, you didn’t have to see his face to confirm he wore a smug expression.
He didn’t wait for an answer before moving his hips once again, you screamed from oversensitivity, a new wave of hot tears ran down your tear-stained cheeks as Dottore moved without an ounce of mercy in his bones. With his full weight on top of your own, there was no option but to take every powerful thrust he gave and each time his blunt cockhead bullied your sweet spot, your eyes rolled back further and further, swollen lips locked in a permanent part—saliva unceremoniously dripping down the corner of your mouth.
You looked a mess. Utterly inappropriate. The ever composed Lady Harbinger reduced to nothing but a lust-driven fool, oh, how Snezhnaya would deem you a laughing stock with the state you were in.
Dottore moaned and grunted dangerously close to your ear, incoherent sentences spilled from his mouth as raw bliss took control over his body. The skin of your ass burned from the repeated slap of his heavy balls, you were absolutely sure it would be inflamed by tomorrow. Your fingers curled around the sheets, knuckles turning white as you gripped them hard to keep yourself grounded from pleasure, there was nothing else you could feel but Dottore’s cock pistoning in and out of your sopping cunt.
“Are you—ngh!—close? Come on, cum for me. Let it all go.” He purred into your ear. You nodded vigorously at his words, too fucked and cockdrunk to even form a coherent response.
With that, Dottore changed the pace of his hips to deep, languid thrusts, and with every inward thrust, he made sure to press into your sweet spot for a few seconds before pulling out. Each time, you let out a gasp, voice long gone from all the screaming earlier. You could feel every dip and curve of his cock, and it drove you absolutely mad.
Without warning, you came with a silent moan. Hard. Your body shook with raw pleasure, back arching as you creamed around Dottore’s cock for the third time.
“That’s it. Mhm—ngh! Good girl.” The latter stilled deep inside you and released yet another heavy load with a broken moan of your name—something more intimate this time. His cock twitched as you clenched around him in response; his sweaty forehead rested against the back of your head, trying to catch his breath.
Pleasure and exhaustion weighed heavily on Dottore’s naked body, with the little strength he had in him, he pulled out—earning a painful hiss from both of you—and rolled over to your side, chest heaving up and down. A muffled whimper escaped your lips as his cum spilled out of your hole and onto the sheets beneath.
Nothing but silence and heavy breathing filled the room, and once again, realisation dawned upon you. Akin to morning fog clearing as the afternoon rolled around, your lust-driven mind slowly faded and was replaced by rational thoughts. Thoughts that made you want to sink into the ground, only to be never found again.
“You still haven’t answered my question from earlier.” You whispered, your throat burned with every word spoken, as though it were a clear sign you weren’t supposed to pry.
‘Are your feelings hurt, Doctor? Why? Did it mean something to you?’
For some reason, Dottore couldn’t come up with an answer. For the first time, his mind blanked. It was a mere yes or no but somehow, either of the two options did not seem like an appropriate answer.
“I may be full of knowledge, Prevaricator but there are matters I do not hold the answers to.”
That was that.
The next few weeks weren’t any different from before except for the passing of your dear friend Rosalyne—which definitely took a toll on you—and the fact that The Balladeer had gone rogue after his mission in Inazuma. Tensions within the Palace walls were high especially with the latter’s disappearance and despite Her Majesty’s cold composure, you could feel the edge in her tone during your meetings with her.
Furthermore, you and Dottore remained working with one another to construct a device to counter the Cryo-induced phenomenon. It was awkward at first, being back in the laboratory together after having sex but he had acted as if nothing ever happened between the two of you, so you did the same—professional and indifferent, just how you always were.
Though, you noticed he was snappier than usual. Yes, Dottore never shied away from giving his subordinates a lecture when needed but he didn’t waste his time and breath giving them an earful over something trivial. You weren’t sure if he had always been this way and you’ve just noticed now or there was a significant shift in his behaviour.
“The Cryo Resonance Regulator is a compact, wearable device designed to interfere with Cryo energy in concentrated areas to prevent rebound effects in operatives. This device doesn’t necessarily cancel the effects of Cryo energy, instead, it only nullifies the after effect. In other words, fear, pain, and other unwanted matters are dampened without the Cryo-induced side effects.”
Dottore slid the small device across the table to Her Majesty and you watched as her icy gaze inspected it with mere curiosity, “This seems rather promising. I will set up a meeting with Regrator for the device’s funding for mass production. This would be of great help to the Fatui.”
“Indeed, your Majesty. The device has been tested and undergone through countless changes and trials.” He smiled at her approval. After a few more minutes of formalities, the meeting was officially dismissed and the Tsaritsa was the first to excuse herself, leaving you and Dottore all alone in the room.
“You should give yourself a pat on the back, Prevaricator. You did well. We’ve only collaborated twice yet the results we’ve gotten were beyond astounding, don’t you think? If we set our differences aside, we could collaborate more often. With two great minds alike, we could do much, much more.”
Dottore didn’t wait for your response before heading out which left you alone in the room with your thoughts.
Somehow, you got the gist that he wasn’t particularly talking about experiments.
You didn’t hear much from Dottore beyond the words he left with you, after all, the joint collaboration had formally ended which meant there were no further reasons for you and Dottore to be seeing one another—not that it bothered you but you felt a little . . . foreign.
Last you heard of The Doctor was from a conversation you happened to overhear from your subordinates, he was apparently in Sumeru and Her Majesty had ordered him for his immediate return in Snezhnaya. The reasoning behind his visit to Sumeru was a mystery to you and frankly, you weren’t much interested.
The next time you saw Dottore was during a Harbinger banquet. During these types of gatherings, you usually found yourself downing Fire-Water diluted with some kind of Spirit and picking at your plate here and there. It was nothing special, really, just an overglorified Harbinger event for everyone to act civilized as if they aren’t plotting something behind their backs.
Back then, Rosalyne would always try to include you in conversation but now that she was gone, you sat there and watched as the others conversed with unsettling smiles on their faces.
Though, one you liked watching interact was The Rooster and Regrator—everyone knew of their nasty rivalry behind one another’s back yet they had the audacity to act like good friends in front of each other. It was simply laughable.
“You’re looking rather well, Prevaricator.” Ah. You had almost forgotten about the Harbinger seated to your right, he was the reason you kept yourself busy with alcohol and food—so that you didn’t have the time to engage in idle conversations.
“Dottore,” You greeted. “I could say the same thing to you.”
Taking a sip of your Fire-Water, all you gave Dottore was a side eye before returning your gaze to your colleagues. He shifted in his seat a little—an unusual behaviour but you didn’t dwell on it—as though he wanted to address something more. He wasn’t one to initiate small conversations unless he wanted something out of it. No, scratch that, unless he was sure he was going to get something out of it. Your instincts told you to move, to get out of there.
So, you did. You excused yourself from the table and headed for the doors that led to the balcony. Cool air met your body in an icy embrace as you stepped out, Snezhnograd’s late afternoon winds greeted you like an old friend, it was cold yet oddly felt warm at the same time. Maybe it was the countless rounds of Fire-Water in your system. Or maybe it was the fact that Dottore had been tailing you like some kind of dog.
Earlier, you were met with a rather foreign view just outside your laboratory—Dottore stood outside the metal door as you retired for the day, headed to the banquet. It was strange, he had invited himself to walk with you to the gathering—something he didn’t naturally do. It should have deeply bothered you but instead, you sighed and wordlessly nodded. You chalked it up to a long day at the laboratory, too exhausted to complain.
“Interestingly enough, you’ve been on my mind as of late.”
Speaking of the devil.
You didn’t turn around at the familiar voice behind you, instead, your gaze locked onto the snowy mountains far north, as if doing so would make Dottore disappear. You’ve been on his mind? What was that supposed to mean? A threat?
“I don’t see how it’s of any relevance.” Dottore laughed at your icy words, “Ah. Feisty as ever. I’ve always liked that about you.”
You turned around only to be met with his looming stature, just mere inches away from you. Dottore effectively trapped you between his body and the balustrade, a gloved hand coming up to rest atop the cemented railing.
“What are you playing at?” You whispered, eyes narrowed but didn’t dare back down. He wordlessly brought his free hand up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear before resting it on your jaw. “You wound me, Prevaricator. I bear no ill intent.” His voice was hushed, it almost sounded sincere. You couldn’t decipher whether his tone was genuine or pure mockery but despite your better judgement, you didn’t shy away from his touch. You hated to admit it but your body no longer registered
You waited for his next move.
Everything was silent, the icy winds, the Palace grounds below, the noise coming from other Harbingers inside. It was just you and Dottore. With a bated breath, you stared at his pointed mask, anticipating—if there was even something to anticipate.
A beat passed, Dottore leaned in, head angled, to press his lips against yours. The kiss started off slow—tame—just his lips against your own, unmoving as if to solely feel all of you against him. You didn’t pull back. Then, Dottore started to move, he parted his mouth to invite more of you, naturally, you responded with the same urgency.
His gloved hand that rested on your jaw tightened just a bit, it kept your head in place as he deepened the kiss. Dottore groaned, shoving his tongue past your lips and you let him in without any resistance. Your hands found their way to his shoulders, nails digging at the ivory fabric to ground your body from the dizzied state you were entering. Dottore gave your lips one last hard kiss before moving down the column of your neck, he sucked and nipped at your heated skin, pulling a whimper from you.
“Prevaricator? Are you here? I have something I’d like to discuss—”
Panicked, you pushed away Dottore with much haste, resulting in the latter to stumble backwards in shock. There stood The Captain, just at the doorway of the balcony, you couldn’t see the expression behind his mask yet you could tell awkwardness engulfed him by how his body stiffened. Silence stretched between the three of you, no one dared to address the elephant in the room—at least not with all of you in shock.
“Captain!” You feigned a cough, trying to hide your uneven breaths, as if Dottore wasn’t sucking your soul out just mere moments ago.
“I . . . think I should take my leave.” Without another word, The Captain turned to leave, heavy boots swiftly receding away from you and Dottore. You closed your eyes, panic arose in your chest. Great. Now, The Captain had witnessed something he wasn’t supposed to. Sure, he wasn’t one to gossip but it didn’t make you feel any better. If anything, he sounded rather horrified.
“I should do the same . . .” You muttered, walking back inside which left Dottore all alone.
As awkward as the incident was with The Captain during the Harbinger banquet, you and Dottore found yourselves orbiting around one another—like two dancing celestial bodies in a constant push and pull. Strangely, fate always brought you to where Dottore was and vice versa. Before, you would barely see him in the auxiliary lounges but nowadays your run-ins were frequent.
Too frequent.
You still held some kind of dislike for The Doctor but somehow you didn’t mind getting intimate with him—having sex. It wasn’t making love nor did it have any romance to it, it was just sex. The two of you treated it as a beneficial transaction between two participating parties, simply for the sole purpose of release.
Fulfilling the role of a Harbinger was taxing enough as is and the stress which came with the role piled up. Each Harbinger dealt with stress differently, you and Dottore happened to do so by exploring each other’s bodies.
As shameful and embarrassing as it was, there was really nothing wrong about two adults engaging in consensual sex, as long as it didn’t occur in professional work spaces. Therefore, sex always happened in either your’s or Dottore’s place, far, far away from the ears and eyes of the Fatui.
As long as no feelings were involved, you would be fine. Detachment was your forte, after all.
nsfw content mutual!satoru gojo who sends you a molded, replica dildo of his dick.
needless to say, you and satoru have been mutuals on the nsfw side of twitter for a while now. the two of you practically started your accounts around the same time — just two young amateurs trying to make it big.
and eventually it happened. you were able to build a fanbase, though your subscribers were hyper-obsessed with the relationship between you and satoru. the two of you are always flirting back and forth on the for you page, even going as far to comment under each other’s videos for shits and giggles.
‘big dick is back in town.’ satoru would title above the video of him sitting in front of his camera, slouched in the gaming chair with his thighs splayed out exposing his beautifully sculpted dick pressed against his abs. he’s just gotten back from his hiatus as the post skyrockets in views from his rightful return.
you’re lying in bed, finger pads tapping away on your phone as you comment under his video. ‘you mean my town, right?’ you send, and within seconds satoru’s replying to your comment.
@theblueeyedgoat: yeah, but also another town if you know what i mean …
@freakenuinelyy/n: ??? what other town if not mine
@theblueeyedgoat: POUNDTOWNN 😼😼💪🏻
such a joke that could only be achieved by gojo satoru himself, but little did he know that people would begin to ship him with you. resulting in his fans migrating to your page to raid your comments with, ‘collab’, ‘are you and goat dating?’, ‘is there a joint account?’, and millions more. you could honestly say that his audience was yours, and your audience was his.
you’d be lying if you said that you’ve never thought of satoru in such an inappropriate manner, to be honest who wouldn’t? he’s got the ideal body you’ve daydreamed about, the charismatic personality and a gorgeous fucking face to match it. it’s almost annoying really.
but what’s really annoying is the fact that he lives overseas in japan — meaning that if you two ever did want to collaborate you’d be traveling miles away from home just to have sex.
“i could always fly out to you.” satoru suggests over face-time, his camera constantly moving because he can’t stand still as he walks around with his phone. “i mean, logically yeah but it’s not that deep.” you respond with your eyes fixated on the screen before satoru’s rapidly pulling his phone towards his face. “what do you mean it’s not that deep?!” he softly pouts, as if this situation was something serious.
you let out an unbelievable laugh. “i’m saying that it’s not worth you flying over here just for sex.” you specify as his pout deepens even more. “i don’t have to travel there just for sex, what if i just wanted to hang out with you.” he says, blue eyes peering at you through the screen.
there’s a brief pause as you think on it. “then yeah, i guess that’s fine as long as you bring me a souvenir since i’ve never been to japan.” you raise up a hand, holding your pointer finger up with a bright smile.
“a souvenir you say?” satoru repeats slowly, as his childish pout disappears once he hears the words he wants to hear. “a souvenir from japan??!” he grins mischievously, as he watches you nod. “i’ve got a perfect souvenir for you!”
little did you know that two weeks from now you’d be getting a package with a japanese address on it, and there’s only one person it could be sent from — gojo satoru. you open the box carefully, pulling the folds apart before seeing another box, though much smaller with a letter on top of it.
“message me when you’ve received it. it’s a souvenir homemade authentically from japan — love toru ( ^ω^ ).”
you’re reaching for the smaller box, tearing it apart as styrofoam wraps around the edges. you’re pulling the safety cover off to be met with a translucent, pink siliconed dildo. roughly thick in girth, there’s a prominent vein running down the bottom of the shaft and a gorgeous mushroom-shaped tip which looks awfully similar to his.
there’s absolutely no way satoru sent you a replicated mold of his dick. you’re speed-dialing his phone as you hold the shape of his dick in your hand as he answers the phone almost instantly.
“moshi moshiiii.” you could hear his stupid grin through the phone. “satoru what kinda souvenir is this?” you ask stunned and in disbelief as he cracks a laugh. “it’s the souvenir you ask for— personally made by yours truly.” he replies proud of himself.
you’re truly at a loss for words. “i don’t know what possessed you to send this, but you should’ve saved your money.” you said, fully taking in the size of the dildo.
“no, it’s for you.” he replies, “to y’know, prepare yourself for whenever we hang out and… do it.” his voice quiets towards the end of his sentence. “plus! i wanna see you use it, if you don’t mind.” he says softly, hoping that you’d say yes, before he’s frowning at your answer.
The smell of the nightly breeze feels good after hours of smelling sterile rooms, latex gloves, and stale coffee from the hospital’s break room. It’s almost 1 in the morning. The streets are mostly quiet, and everywhere is closed, including all the fast-food places in your area (how unlucky). It’s not that he would like you eating junk food at these ungodly hours, anyway.
“You’re a nurse. You should know food like that at late hours isn’t good for your health,” he’d judge, but his words are hypocritical for how much he cares about his work over his own well-being. He’s always stuck in his home office, or at his second home, his actual working office. He never once took a break, it seems, but neither did you.
Balancing two of the most demanding jobs in the world is never easy; neither of you ever has time for anything else but work or catching up on sleep. It is a miracle you two are still together; you suppose, as a married couple, you keep the promise to stay for better or for worse.
The autumn leaves crunch as you cross the street to get into your car, an old Honda Civic that has been with you since med school days. The breeze was picking up, scattering the colored leaves around your feet. You tugged your jacket closer around you as your mind drifted to the man back home. You already know he’s up as you drive under the starry night, because why wouldn’t he be? It is always the same routine with you two, the same moments, the same expectations of what is waiting at the door.
Wake up at 6 am, limbs tangled and bones sore from constantly walking from trips around the hospital, or back aching from hunching over legal documents in a dimly lit room, in his case. You both get up quietly, murmur a good morning, and exchange a few kisses stolen before parting ways.
As much as you’d like to be there for him, your own responsibilities as a nurse in the city’s busiest hospital. Your stress is eating you up, too, with how many hours of sleep you get, plus the added emotional distress each grueling day offers.
For example, today a patient vomited blood, and it got on your shoe, or you had to assist someone with a mangled arm after a gruesome car crash. Healthcare isn’t easy, and the pay isn’t worth it, either, but like Hiromi, you don’t do it for the money; you do it for the satisfaction of saving a life.
The whole workday would engulf both until you lost track of time and realized you hadn't taken a break. You'd message him now and then, asking how he was doing or if he needed anything. 9 times out of ten, there is no response- you don’t blame him, especially since he is taking on a serious court case as of late. You also know that the stress of it is causing him to pull all-nighters and make his mood irritable.
It has been a while, too- a while from that. Sex.
As any normal couple, you guys do intimacy, or at least try to. Really tried to. It's not like you guys didn’t enjoy it, or don’t find each other exciting- it's more that you don't have the time to squeeze it in anymore.
Coming home late, burnt out, and dragging yourself through the house is already taxing enough- adding cardio to that would send both of you into cardiac arrest. You miss it so much, though, his warm hands caressing your waist as his face was glued to your soaked cunt, that perfectly long nose of his nudging against your clit, and just letting him have his way with you sounds so perfect after a stressful day.
The need for an outlet to take everything out is too much. Maybe, just maybe, you can pursue him- seduce him just this once…because scrubs were the sexiest thing when trying to tempt your stressed-out husband, right? He’s probably too lucid to tell what you’re wearing.
The engine hum buzzes in your brain. It was soothing, almost too soothing. You’re practically falling asleep on the way home, and you’re thinking about getting some action? You barely have the energy to hit the brakes. The hope you have faded away as fast as it came.
—
The house lights are off by the time you pull up to the driveway. All rooms are dark except for that small window in the upstairs right wing. Ahah! So he is still awake. Your keys jingle as you unlock the front door. The house is comfortable enough for two people to live in or more; three bedrooms, an upstairs, and a downstairs bathroom, a grand kitchen, and a cozy living room. The spare room is used for guests, but maybe one day it’ll be a nursery. That is just a distant dream as of now; you two are busy enough as is.
The living room is quiet as expected, with the only evidence of him ever stepping into the room being his keys on the coffee table and his coat hanging by the door. You make your way upstairs and into your bedroom, changing into something more comfortable, an old dress shirt of his.
The fabric is old and wrinkly with a faded brown stain on the bottom from a little coffee spill. He was going to throw it away, but you claimed ownership before he had a chance. It became a frequently used PJ. To go along with that, you wore some simple black panties underneath.
As much as you’d like to go in there with the scrubs, you’d been around some nasty patients all day, and getting him sick is your top concern. You head for his office after, footsteps quiet as a mouse so as not to break the calm silence of the night.
You peek through the crack of his slightly opened door to be blessed by his tired, somehow breathtaking appearance. Dress shirt unbuttoned, tie loosened, hair messy from running his fingers through it when in deep thought, eyes tired but sharp, having seen countless fates in courts. He has that quiet intelligence you know so well. The warm light of the lamp sitting on his work table cast a soft shadow across his face. You knock three times before poking your head through.
“What’re you still doing up, ‘Romi? When’d you get home?” you ask, voice warm and low.
His fatigue seems to fade as he perks up at the sound of your voice. He puts the documents down and welcomes you with a wave of his hand.
“Going over a case, that’s all. I got home about an hour ago…” his words trail off as he watches you come in. His eyes immediately find your legs as you saunter towards him.
“Is it the same case you can’t tell me about that’s been making you lose sleep over the past month?” It's no secret how hardworking he is, with how he prioritizes his clients over his own well-being, but it gets to a point where you seriously worry about him. It makes him depressed, though he tries to hide it. The justice system is corrupt; everyone knows that- he knows it better than anyone. The stress is eating away at him slowly, and if he doesn't do anything about it, you fear what it might do to his sanity.
“Yes, the same one. It’s a shame I can’t spill any information about it to you; I can really use someone to talk to about it.” His tired eyes watch as you move to lean on his desk. That old familiar dress shirt of his isn’t buttoned up all the way- presenting a pretty view of the swell of your breasts.
“Sucks, huh? Remember that if there’s anything you need, I am here for you, got it?” You feel his eyes linger on your body, his usual eye contact lacking. It makes you shiver; that hungry gaze in his eyes is one you long to see, but it’s so late now, your feet ache, and you’re so hungry. It’s not the right time.
“I haven’t eaten in so long,” you admit with a tired laugh. “I’m starving. Have you eaten anything? I’ll make us some quick cups of ramen so we don’t go to bed on an empty stomach.” Just before you can turn to leave, his hand launches to grasp your wrist. You whip your head to look down at him, his downward eyes staring at you like a predator catching its prey.
“I am hungry,” he murmurs, his voice a little huskier than usual, “but not for food.” he tugs you down onto his lap, hands sliding under your dress shirt to hold your waist still. Your breath hitches as his long, slender fingers trace small circles right under your breasts. The look in his eye is full of frustration and yearning.
“Hiromi…don’t tell me you want to, right now?” Your protests are silenced as his lips press against yours in a slow, passionate kiss. It has been so long since you felt that coiling heat in your stomach begging to be taken care of.
“If you truly want to help me, let me do this.” He’s practically begging, that needy look in his eye telling you everything you need to know.
You bite your lip, mulling over whether this is the right idea to do
“I want to help. I do.” You tug his tie to bring him closer, to continue the feverish kiss, eyes half-lidded from exhaustion and lust. Your hands trail up from resting on his biceps up to his neck with a feather-light touch. He groans against your mouth as you shift to straddle his lap, making the kiss even deeper than before.
His hands move to cup your breasts, circling your hardened nipples under the fabric of the shirt. You arch at the feeling, moaning softly into his mouth. He tugs them firmly, alternating between rolling and pinching. His mouth attaches to your neck next, leaving small bites and gentle kisses to soothe the aches.
He smelled good, like printed papers and old coffee. So different from the smell of death and Lysol you endure. It was comforting- knowing you had someone at home to lean on and find solace in.
“Missed this, missed seeing you on my lap after a long day of work,” he confesses. His hands move down to the waistband of your panties. “Take these off for me. Leave the shirt.”
You get off his lap and shimmy the panties down your legs; you already know what is coming by the way he's been eyeing your legs. His hands find your hips, pushing you backwards until you hit the work desk behind you. You sit down on it, spreading your legs open for him.
It has been too long since he’s had a taste; he hasn't had the time to say hello to her anymore. He brings himself closer to your pussy, taking his time by leaving open-mouth kisses on your inner thighs.
He holds your legs open by the bottom of your thighs; he can already feel them quivering in anticipation, but he wasn’t one to give in too easily. He wants to savor the moment, savor the tension, and your whiny heaves from above.
“It’s been so long since I’ve seen her. I feel bad for neglecting her. I know she’s missed me so much.” He murmurs. His tongue licks up your slick folds slowly. His tongue is flat like a pancake, and his head moves up and down steadily; his slacks feel tighter with each needy buck of your hips.
“Romi, don't tease,” you pleaded, a free hand coming down to rake through his already unkempt hair. It feels so good, too good, that you think you might cum from just a few licks. Pleasure overcomes any trace of drowsiness and want. Your hips jolt at each stroke of his tongue, breathy mewls leaving your lips at the torturous pace he’s keeping.
“Tell me what you want. All you have to do is use that pretty mouth of yours.” His lips left your cunt to go back to kissing everywhere but your throbbing clit.
“You know where.” You whine, too shy to admit what you really want. It’s been so long that you feel nervous, like it’s your first time with him again.
“Do I? I don’t have the slightest clue.” His eyes are glinting with mischief; he wants to hear it out loud from you, because where would the fun be if he just let you have what you want?
You whine at his tease; he knows just how to mess with you. Shyly, you look away from him, whining softly as you’re forced to say it out loud. “I want you to lick here.” Your fingers trail down to point out your bud. “on my clit. I need you to touch me there.”
He doesn’t waste anymore time. He dives into your cunt again, suckling and swirling right on your sensitive bud.
Two fingers sneak inside you, curling firmly against your spongy walls. He relishes your mewls, the desperate bucks of your hips as he assaults your clit with precision. His nose bridge was pressing right against your bud now, creating a firm, stimulating press that you could grind on as he trails downward to your entrance.
You throw your head back in gasps, and your hand holds the back of his head as you grind against his face.
“Feels so good…don’t stop.. please.”
His tongue joins his digits, slithering its way inside and fucking you relentlessly. His face, by now, is glistening with your slickness as you grind nonstop on the bridge of his hooked nose.
He groans right on your clit, making your legs tense and your ankles lock around his head. You’re close, he can feel it. He doesn’t let up either; he continues devouring you like he needed it as badly as he needed oxygen.
“Tastes divine…” he takes a deep breath of your scent, practically drunk off it from how desperately he’s moving his tongue up and down your heat. His fingers haven't stopped either; they’re pumping in and out of you, angling just right to keep you thrashing.
Your first orgasm hits you like a brick- legs tensing, then shaking violently as his fingers fuck you through it. It comes in waves until it suddenly feels like it’s too much, too much so that you try to shift away from his face.
He lets up for a moment, just staring up at you as if you were an angel. His face was dripping with a mix of sweat and saliva. He licks his lips slowly, taking a moment to savor the leftover juices.
“So pretty…you think you can handle one more for me?”
You nod your head vaguely, letting him pull you down closer to his mouth. He returns down below, slurping every drop he can from your drooling pussy.
You overestimated your ability to handle more stimulation. The feeling of his tongue and fingers on you is overwhelming, so much so that your legs threaten to close around him, essentially suffocating him (not that he would mind). Your body involuntarily moves away from the feeling, but he catches on quickly, and his hands pin your hips down to the desk.
“No running away now, you wanted this,” He growls, going back to flicking your tired clit with the tip of his tongue. Your moans are high-pitched and whiny. His slacks have a stain on them from his pre-cum from just how turned on he’s getting by making you feel good. He grabs your nearby discarded panties and unzips himself from his slacks.
Using your panties, he strokes himself slowly, alleviating the ache, all the while his tongue fucking you without missing a beat. The soaked fabric felt good around his throbbing cock. The cotton texture rubbing against his veins so deliciously that he can’t help but buck his hips to chase the feeling.
You don’t even notice he does this, too busy gripping his head and tensing around him as your second orgasm approaches.
“Fuck it’s too much! M’cumming again.” You mewl, thighs shaking from ecstasy.
“Good girl.” He groans, stroking his cock a little quicker. He was close, too close.
“Make a mess on my face, c'mon." He’s approaching his own high, stroking himself faster, harder, the height of it all making him lose himself in your pleasure.
“Cumming!” You gasp as it hits you again, your legs locking him in place. He moans softly, climaxing in his hands and staining your panties.
Everything is still, and white dots blur your vision as you try to make sense of everything around. His deep voice snaps you out of your daze.
“Shit…that was perfect. You are perfect.” He praises, giving your cunt one last kiss before lifting his head to look at your disheveled state.
You lift your head after taking a few moments to recollect yourself before you speak, chest heaving rapidly, and face flushed a light pink.
“Are you still hungry?” You manage. Your voice is small and breathless. Your head lolls to the side as he moves from your legs.
He lets out a chuckle; the sound is warm and low. Wiping his chin with the back of his hand, he stands up from the chair and moves to hover above you on the table.
He braces his hands beside your head, successfully trapping you with no escape. “Not anymore, but I want one more thing…”
You know you should protest, to stop before things spiral and you’re stuck on his desk all night long. It’s late, you’ve got a morning shift, he’s got work in the morning too…but you just don’t seem to care.
The world doesn’t matter right now. It’s just him and you, in his office, away from the real world, if only temporarily.
synopsis. not fawning over his wife may prove to be harder than gojo thought.
contents. fluff, gojo is so whipped for his wife and everyone is tired (whats new), ooc gojo?
notes. this was pure self indulgence. i wanted to slander and coddle gojo all at once and this was it teehee :3
the first thing you hear when you stand up to leave the staff meeting is a wolf whistle.
“looking good,” satoru looks you up and down. you roll your eyes playfully, your husband’s behavior is not foreign to you. he taps your upper thigh, dangerously close to your butt as you take your leave. however, the others in the room don't take kindly to the action.
“highly inappropriate behavior gojo,” utahime mutters under her breath from across the table. beside her, nanami is giving your husband a hard stare.
satoru pays no mind to them though, smiling up at you as you walk out of the room. you shake your head when he continuously blows a series of kisses. he ignores your rejection, opting to mouth crude comments instead.
the moment the door shuts, the strongest sorcerer immediately deflates, disinterested in whatever matters the rest had to discuss about.
“i don’t know how she puts up with you,” utahime takes a long sip out of her cup of tea. beside her, shoko snorts.
“probably for his body.” shoko is not unfamiliar with satoru’s antics, having witnessed it since his rowdy school days. she applauds him for coming far with you, but it was still fun to tease him.
gojo crosses his arms, emitting a disgruntled sound. “and my golden personality?”
nanami sighs, “ieiri’s conclusion is most likely right.”
the limitless user wiggles his finger playfully. “nanamin, how scandalous of you to fantasize about my body! i’m a married man y’know~”
nanami looks like he has eaten something sour. unlike you, nanami’s attitude towards gojo has not softened as the years passed.
“i’m surprised she’s still with you.” utahime snickers. “she’s a sensible woman and you’re–”
satoru frowns at her statement. he’d never thought about how you felt about his behavior. perhaps that was his fatal flaw. gojo satoru had a nasty streak of negligence. and the last time he failed to notice someone dear to him —
“well i’m glad she ended up choosing me, yeah?” his frown is quickly covered up by the wide smirk on his face. he leans back on his chair that’s starting to feel less comfortable by the second. the chair creaks under the weight of his body. honestly, how old are these old wooden things? “as much as i’d like to keep chatting about my lovely wife, i’d like to get this meeting over with so i can see her again.”
the rest of the meeting ensues as usual.
“sensei has been weird… right?” itadori offers his hand after knocking megumi down during a sparring match. the black haired boy grunts as he is pulled up.
“if by weird, you mean normal.” megumi glances back at you and gojo who are watching intently at the first and second years practicing close combat on the training field. it was a bit peculiar to see satoru not throw himself all over you. gojo without pda is like a jigsaw puzzle missing its most essential piece, leaving the overall picture incomplete and lacking the electrifying energy that defines his existence.
“i feel like i should be happy, but it’s unsettling to see him not initiating some misconduct. do you think they’re fighting?” nobara is panting on the grassy floor. she raises her hand in surrender when maki leaps in to take her head off with a spear.
maki retracts her blade, turning back to observe you and gojo, “nah, gojo would fold at her command.”
“salmon.”
from across the training field, you turn to your husband nervously, “why are they staring at us?”
satoru hums, his blindfolded gaze focuses on the field in front of you, “hm, maybe they’re admiring their very beautiful [name] sensei.” the blindfolded man pauses. compliments should still be okay– right? satoru can’t imagine a life without lavishing you with love, yet he will content himself with gently sprinkling you with affection.
you smack his shoulder playfully. to your surprise, your husband doesn’t reciprocate with some form of physical affection. you tilt your head, perplexed.
quickly dismissing it, you yell at your students to continue their training.
you don’t notice the way satoru clenches his fists, keeping his eyes trained anywhere but you.
the next time satoru is tempted by your presence is when he comes back home after a mission. it was a walk in the park, but the heavy stack of paperwork that followed it had depleted his energy. all he wanted was to snuggle in bed with his wife, selfishly keeping you all to himself.
and you’re not making it easier to resist with the way you warmly greet him with a smile in nothing but a small cotton tee and those tiny pajama shorts. eyes up, eyes up, eyes up, satoru mentally chants.
he thinks he might actually die.
“toru!” you abandon the book you had been reading to pay your husband taxes (kisses that satoru demands he must have). “you’re home awfully late.”
“mission… paperwork,” his clipped response is mumbled as he hurries past you and to your shared bathroom, avoiding your touch. satoru silently prays to the heavens that you don’t notice his suspicious efforts as he makes his way to take a much needed ice cold shower.
you stand in your spot in confusion, letting your husband go. slowly, you start to connect the pieces of satoru’s strange behavior from his refusal to touch you to his sudden responsible disposition. gojo satoru never does paperwork– not unless you bribe him with a dozen kisses. speaking of kisses, you don’t even remember the last time he had demanded one. something was definitely wrong.
without missing a beat, you quickly follow your lover’s trail into the bathroom.
to your delight, your husband had failed to lock the door. in the hush of your silence, you can hear the subtle rustle of satoru's garments.
his sky blue eyes go wide when he sees you walk through the door.
“toru… is there something wrong?” your voice is careful.
the white haired man in front of you nervously laughs as he covers his bare chest, “geez, ask me out to dinner first.”
“gojo satoru.”
your husband winces at his full name being used, but he puts on another mask. a faux smile plays on his lips as he shrugs. “i don’t know what you mean, gojo.”
your heart drops at his insistence to shut you out, but you stand your ground. with sheer determination, you walk up to your husband, closing the gap between the two of you. you cup his cheek with a hand while you start to lean closer, your lips nearly brushing.
satoru shuts his eyes, inhaling a deep breath to regain composure. he even sucks in his lips, making him look utterly ridiculous. despite the dangerous allure of your proximity, he resolves to stand firm.
"you won’t even kiss me anymore! satoru, this is absurd. what's happening?" you distance yourself, seeking answers.
despite his towering stature, a snort escapes you as satoru resembles a mere child when mumbling something under his breath.
"come on, use your big boy words."
"i don't want to drive you away," he avoids making eye contact now that his blindfold is off. "i know i can be a bit overwhelming at times."
upon hearing his excuse, you snort loudly, “seriously?”
“seriously.”
“i can’t believe i married such an idiot.” you huff, wrapping your arms around his neck.
satoru pouts, “you’re breaking my heart wifey.”
your lips softly kiss the corner of his mouth. like it was muscle memory, satoru’s lips chase yours even after you pull away. you smile.
“for such a genius, you really are stupid ‘toru.” you flick his forehead. he whines and you know it didn’t hurt, yet you entertain him by leaning up to kiss his injury. “believe it or not, i married you for reasons beyond your pretty face and body.”
“you think i’m pretty?” his eyes shine bright as they lovingly gaze into yours. you take one hand to cup his cheek. he nuzzles his face into it.
“of course you’d say that.” you laugh softly. “but honestly, i’m offended that you thought i would ever be annoyed by your affections. might i remind you that we have been madly in love since our youth? i found myself captivated by your ability to love effortlessly, and the way you hopelessly pined for me for years? i knew i was a goner. that… and your bank accoun–”
satoru kisses you with an intensity that leaves you feeling blissfully lightheaded. lost in the haze of the moment, he showers the rest of your face with tender, wet kisses, and you stand there, surrendering to the sweet assault.
upon withdrawing, satoru wears a broad grin. "i was an idiot today, wasn't i?" you nod, breathless. "how about i make it up to you tonight?" he proposes, drawing you close. you are all too familiar with that feral grin adorning his face.
“baby,” yuta rasped, as long, shaky fingers squeezed on your bouncing hips. tethering his soul to the sinful way in which you came down on him. thighs smacking, hips grinding. you rode his lap like you were trying to squeeze out every semblance of his sanity.
“just like that— ah, so perfect,” pale lips pressed together. dark hair spread out on the wrinkled pillows as his head fell back. tossing with the bed that jumped with every clamour of your hips.
the epitome of beauty, an angel, a devil, both— when you squeezed around his cock and slicked his balls all messy. when your pretty nails dug on his shoulders and collarbones. when your gorgeous eyes dazed down at him through your fluttering lashes.
“mm, feels good yu? am I doing good for you?” you crooned, slowing your hips into a lazy, nasty drag that pulled a pitched moan out of him.
“so good— so, so good. hah. how'd I get so lucky?” he smiled up at you. through glossy eyes and trembling lips.
his head crooked so he pressed a kiss to your inner wrist. worshipping your veins, your blood, your pulse that allowed you to be here.
wrapped so perfect and velvet around his cock— squeezing every vein and kissing his tip with whatever darling spot you desired. working him to a high that had him clinging to you. gripping onto your very soul with his tightening fingers and every thrum of his dick.
cold hands smoothed over you. up your thighs, caressing your hips, worshipping your sides and cradling your breasts. he thumbed your nipples in tender swirls. in time with your hips that began to stutter.
“no, no. come on,” he ushered, bucking up once for encouragement. “you can do it, angel. don't stop now.”
his voice thinned. sucking in a breath as he watched your pace go sloppy. clumsy and overstimulated— but you were still smiling through your needy moans.
“yu babbyyyy,” you whined, playful. as you hunched over him, nails scratching on his chest and lips ghosting his. a promise. a tease.
“can't help it. feels so good. just gonna have to deal with it, hm?”
“you're a curse, you know that?” he returned your smile, despite the flicker in his dead eyes.
his hands slipped back to your ass. squeezing. a pout settled on his lips. “my poor pretty girl. so worked up. . ."
shlap!
pale skin smacked into yours. wet, rough, and strikingly abrupt— you squealed. slumping over your boyfriend who squished on the plush of your ass and rolled his hips up. deep and dirty. smooching his tip into a crook that curved your spine and shook your thighs.
“oh fuck— hngh.”
“don't worry, angel.”
yuta crooned to your ear as he pressed a deep kiss to it. arms hugging around your bouncing body tight. hips that once laid limp now pistoning in feral thrusts up into you. mean, merciless and nothing like the way he melted beneath you just a moment before. “I'll help. 'cause I love you so—”
his pelvis crammed! up into you. rutting rough and ragged on your cervix. slacking your jaw and blurring your vision.
“mngh— yuta!”
“— sooo much.” he didn't need to grin, not with the devil in that smile.
soft hands squeezed your thighs together. squished them tight to put pressure on his blur of thrusts. faster, harder, rougher than your sinful bounces. slapping his balls on your puffy pussy and milking your slick all over the sheets. splattering it over your thighs.
the lights flickered above. his cursed energy surged his pounds into a blinding prowess that sent your eyes rolling and tongue drooling. spluttering his name in a pitiful, ah ah ah!
“aww,” he cooed, pouting. he had the audacity to flash you those puppy eyes, like he wasn't pummeling your pussy into a creamy mess. “what was that, lovely girl? I can't hear you.”
“f-fuck— fuck you—!”
“now that's not very nice.”
he hummed, pale hand slipping up to pat on your ass that he chased ripples into with his merciless hips. “here I am making you cum so sooo good and you're being so mean.”
his cold touch slipped forward, thumb ghosting your swollen clit. drawing a whimper from your trembling lips as you flicked your head back.
“yuta. . . please, wait I can't—”
“sshh,” he hushed, swirling his thumb on the twitching nub with a feather touch, already sending your lashes fluttering while his batted up at you. innocent. infuriating.
“I can be mean, too.”
and then he flicked your clit.
pinched it hard between his fingers and rubbed it into a spasm that threw your spine into an arch and squeezed your pussy into a messy splutter.
all while he surged you higher into euphoria by plunging his cock up in a sharp stroke— humping on your cervix to spread your orgasm into a nervous wreck. trembling your body into a ruinous tremor.
“f-fuck— fuck fuck, ah.”
as you tumbled through your shattering climax, his hand snaked to yours. threading your fingers together. holding you tight. close. as he thumbed on your promise ring and rode out your high with tender praises.
“thereeee you go,” he blissfully sighed, his own eyes fluttering as he eyed the sticky mess between your thighs. “such a lovely girl with a lovely pussy.”
˖ ࣪૮₍ 𝓟.𝐑𝐎𝐅𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐎𝐑 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𓂃 ⭒ is your toxic ex who's now making your student life hell.
⤿ ꒰ satoru knew that his sweet girl couldn't last without him. he just had to make you realise that :: college au :: smut :: age gap ( 40s / 20s ) :: toxic dynamics :: kinda yandere behaviour :: dumbification :: p in v :: m.masturbation :: phone sex :: thigh riding :: rough sex :: degradation :: praise :: creampie :: overstimulation :: financial disparity :: mean!toru ꒱
♡ ₊˚‧ beta read by my pookie baby @aves1018 <3
˖ ࣪꒰ PROFESSOR SATORU ꒱ ˙˖ was your scandalous little secret. all heaven smiles and devil eyes. blue. bright and brutal in the same way he carried himself. he was as charming as he was cunning. the right mix of taboo and terror that made your little heart flutter whenever he cast you a glance over his rimless glasses as he set your perfect-score down in your table. muttered a “that's my girl” to your ear when brushed by him to leave the class. spanked your thigh under that skimpy little skirt when no one was looking— but anyone could see.
being professor gojo's favourite was something dangerous. something fun, something frightening, and the infinity in between.
he took care of you. showered in you in spoils. took you back to his apartment after stressful hours and fucked you into his leather couch until you left pretty red scratches down his back. with the same nails that he paid to manicure. you were always seen. always praised. you lacked nothing when it came to being in his arms.
but you couldn't do it any longer.
˖ ࣪꒰ PROFESSOR SATORU ꒱ ˙˖ was twice your age. in his forties with silvers slipping between his white strands. creases setting in the corners of his eyes. his tongue tasted like aged wine. his hands laced with experience you could only dream of. but with all the pros of dating an older man— came the deep, dreary insecurity.
insecurity that you wouldn't be enough. that you weren't permanent. that you were just a little taste but not the one that'll quench his thirst. really, what did a man with his qualification and achievements need from you other than something to pass the time?
and to top it all off? his possessiveness knew no bounds. it was quiet, not violent, but sharp. the kind of thing that left you paranoid whether you were toeing a line or not. he didn't approve of your friends. couldn't handle your classmates. hell— he failed the boy that sat next to you all semester just because you flashed him a smile.
so with all facts considered? you were gonna leave him. it was for the best rather than drag you both down a love that was doomed.
˖ ࣪꒰ PROFESSOR SATORU ꒱ ˙˖ wasn't too bothered when you told him it was over. it was in the car. he saw it coming. knew you were reaching a limit. he still snapped at the waiter who dared to laugh at your little joke that was meant for him.
but sure. you wanna break away just because he loved you so much? not an issue. he could see the tears in your eyes. the tremble in your fingers as you took the bag that he bought you as he dropped you off at your dorm building.
no. he wasn't too bothered. why would he be? you'd always be his. and little miss daddy-issues-and-academic-insecurity needed his validation to function.
˖ ࣪꒰ PROFESSOR SATORU ꒱ ˙˖ started in class. a week after you left him. your assignment was handed in with shaky hands rather than confidence. and he was more than happy to mark you down. why should he glance over your little mishaps anymore? you didn't need his special treatment. so, yeah, he didn't bat an eye as his hand sharply pressed your assignment sheet your desk as he passed. not even casting you a glance. looking on ahead as you crumbled at your B-.
“try harder next time. you're better than this.”
he said it so easily. as if he was always capable of seeing you as nothing in those cutting blues eyes.
it seemed to be a trend. he'd hand you back your assignments. they weren't what you expected. and when you slipped the spot of top ranked student in his quantum physics class?
well, he didn't bother looking up at you as you stood before his desk. hands gripping your newest assignment. almost hesitant to hand it in.
“how's that even possible?” you asked, soft.
“awww baby.” he only tilted his head. pinched his brows at the centre. looked at you with that soft look that was oh, so condescending now. “people change. you know that better than anyone, huh?”
˖ ࣪꒰ PROFESSOR SATORU ꒱ ˙˖ knew that his validation meant everything to you. now you weren't his top student, weren't the object of his praise. no more mouthed “atta girl”s or treating you to your favourite restaurant after another stellar score.
you were struggling to get by. scraping to get back to your straight a's. to achieve even a hint of his favour.
you never did. it was a downhill spiral. and everyone knew what an asshole professor gojo could be. so of course no one batted an eye when he belittled you in class.
“guess I expected too much,” he'd sigh after calling out your marks for the last test. he didn't have to. but you knew what he did.
as he leaned back in his chair with his arms behind his head. cutting that stare that you'd grown to flinch at over.
“so much for star student, huh? try better next time. know you can do it.”
he knew you could.
but knew you wouldn't. not now that you were spiralling.
not when you weren't his favourite girl anymore.
˖ ࣪꒰ PROFESSOR SATORU ꒱ ˙˖ caught you outside at the steps that day. night time. you probably spent all afternoon in the library studying to make up for the embarrassment. for your sin of slipping in your grades. he knew you would. knew how you operated.
knew you'd be all teary as you walked down the steps with your hand tight on your book bag. trying to ignore him.
“awww baby. what's wrong? you crying?”
you didn't flinch when satoru caught up to you. when he cradled your face in that way he knew you loved to be comforted. bit back a grin as you resisted the urge to press your head into his palm and fall into his arms.
“oh c'mon. you crying over me? didn't say anything bad. you know how I operate.”
all low and gentle. in that voice he used when he used to tutor you and you just couldn't grasp what he was saying. like you were his silly girl. his sweet girl.
long fingers slipped around your jaw. gripped on your cheeks and squished them as he tilted your head up. towering over you but leaning over so that his white strands tickled your tears.
“don't look like that, princess.” he muttered. pressing a firm kiss into your lips and smearing your gloss. not tender, but taunting. not comforting, but still charming enough to have you whimpering and clinging to his shirt.
and as he pulled back, a grin split his lips still hovered over yours. half-hung lashes batting at your falling tears.
“just try harder next time, yeah?”
before he patted your cheek and you left you stranded on the stairs.
˖ ࣪꒰ PROFESSOR SATORU ꒱ ˙˖ knew that you needed him in more ways than one. not only did he soothe that insecurity in your heart but he also sealed the hole in your wallet. and now? he knew you were struggling. you didn't order out as much. didn't have the luxury to. you walked back to the dorm. lifts must be costly. you sure as hell didn't have your nails done every other week. he missed the acrylics and blue you'd insist on. but hey— you made your bed.
didn't mean that he didn't feel sorry for you when he spotted you at your favourite cafe. probably ordering a tea like you did now. not your favourite sweet treat and hot chocolate.
yeah. it was pity. definitely not the need to remind you what you were missing— as he called to the barista from behind you. “get the lady a hot chocolate and a strawberry crepe, please?”
as he leaned over your stiffening form, arm grazing yours as he slid his black card over. murmuring a soft, “I've got you, sweetheart,” to your ear when the barista turned.
you let him sit with you that day. spoke to him properly for the first time in months. even if you couldn't hold his eye contact. even if you thanked him a hundred times and over.
while he gave you a gentle look, inwardly? he was grinning.
bingo.
˖ ࣪꒰ PROFESSOR SATORU ꒱ ˙˖ knew he had you slowly wrapping around his finger again. that's why he had no shame when he leaned back in his couch that day. remembering your weight in his lap. swiping through his folder that he refused to delete. full of your pretty body, your slutty expressions and your messy thighs.
that's why he didn't feel bad as his hand wrapped around his hard dick that slapped back on his tummy, smearing some pre on his abs.
why he groaned your name without care as he squeezed in his angry tip. remembered the way you'd whine as he rubbed it on your little clit. how you'd cry out as he kissed it in your cervix.
fuck. he remembered how your thighs would quiver for him. how that smart mouth of yours would reduce to a babbling, stuttering, slutty whimper of his name as he ragdolled you on his cock.
his hand sped. his other swiping to your contact. you hadn't blocked him. it's your fault for the voice note you'd receive. of his harsh grunts and his rasped gasps accompanying that wet shlick shlick shlick.
of his voice, groaning your name low like it was both his sin and salvation.
“sweetheart, fuck. look at what you do to me— fuck. still work me up so fuckin' much even when you aren't mine. miss your pretty pussy. miss my sweet girl so soooo bad."
he'd whine. he remembered how much you like that. liked hearing him lose himself as he slammed all the way in and rutted as he frothed you up.
now? it was all over his hand. and he made sure the voice note heard just how much he wished it was in your sweet little cunt instead.
˖ ࣪꒰ PROFESSOR SATORU ꒱ ˙˖ expected you to not answer him. but you still didn't block him. still didn't report him. you wouldn't. you loved him too much. loved the thought of him. did you think that while you touched yourself to his voice note?
he knew you did. knew you didn't get yourself that. knew you probably sat there playing with your cute clit and whining his name all pitifully as you tried so desperately to cum the way he'd make you squirt back then. back when you were his.
you know what else he expected? you to storm into his office and accuse him of marking you down purposefully. your mid term marks were sent out that morning. he made sure of it. made sure you'd have to face the man, your ex, who sent you a five minute long voice note of him fisting his big cock to you.
“such accusations, sweet girl.” satoru drawled, lazy, as he leaned his head on his hand and his elbow on the desk.
“if you think so, I'm not opposed to you sitting with me while I mark your next assignment. I've got the next stack set for this afternoon. wanna come confirm your claims?”
his brow arched. his diamond eyes invited you. his velvet voice dared you.
and you did. of course you did. he expected that too.
his fourth expectation? that you'd find your way in his lap. with that skirt he loved so much. with your thighs slotted over his knee and his hand cradling your ass while his other graded papers.
you were soaking through his pants. he could feel it. the same way he felt you tremble as he flipped to your assignment. squeezed your ass and bounced his knee to grind up on your cunt.
“those poor panties must be so drenched, huh pretty?” he crooned to your ear, squishing you down onto his bounces and grinds. enjoying your whimpers. your whines as your hands fisted on his shirt.
“look at that,” he pouted, dragging the edge aside of your panties aside so that your clit ground perfectly on the fabric of his pants. “such a slutty student. think this is gonna get you extra credit?”
swat! his fingertips came down in your clit. his leg bounced again to force your needier grinds.
he grinned. cruel and cold on your ear as the sharp strokes of his red pen sliced through the air.
“mm. you're gonna need it. my sweet girl's become a stupid girl in my absence.”
he laughed as you whipped around. as you looked over. saw your assignment littered in red.
and the worst thing is? as he unbuckled his belt and manhandled you over his thighs so your back faced his chest to give you a better look— as his cock slapped on your cunt and dwarfed your folds as he slid between them. as his tip rubbed on your clit in that same way that had you trembling—
you saw it.
saw that he wasn't marking you down in any way that you didn't deserve.
and as his cock plunged in and your back through in an arch. as he snatched your waist and bounced your little cunt on his cock that split you open and had you creaming in seconds. . .
he taunted you. squishing your thighs and biting on your ear. “poor girl. poor, stupid girl.”
˖ ࣪꒰ PROFESSOR SATORU ꒱ ˙˖ wasn't even surprised when he got a call the next week. an internship at that institution you'd always prattle so excitedly about. poor you. you probably thought just because he had you in his lap and called you his sweet girl— just because you were his once upon a time, that he wouldn't give you a bad reference to the job of your dreams, huh?
poor, sweet, stupid girl.
he was beginning to like your tears. your eyes looked pretty when they were glossed and your lashes were all damp. as you blinked up at him after you burst into his office again. face blotched and hands clenched.
“how could you?” you croaked. “I— you know how important that is to me—”
“you were important to me too.”
“that's not the point! so what you sabotaged me because I broke up with you? what don't you get satoru? we can't do this! what kind of person would—”
you trembled so prettily when he stood. when shook his head with a sigh and slipped his glasses into his hair.
“sweetheart, sweetheart," he tutted, circling his desk and backing you into it once he got in front of you.
“you don't get it, do you?” there's that condescending tone again. the one he used because to him, you were just his dumb, naïve girl.
big hands came down on the edge of the desk that you pressed into. trapping you against the wood and his wickedness as he leaned over. towering you as always. face pressing closer. brows pinched and knitted upwards. face that mockery of sympathy.
“baby, sweetheart, my sweetest girl. here's the thing.” his lips brushed yours. you tensed. teary eyes wide and staring into his.
“I realised. I'm not a good person when it comes to you.”
velvet and diamond. smooth and cutting. like it was simple fact. a set fate.
his head crooked. glasses slipping down his nose and brutal blues pinning you from over the rim.
“y'know. if you come back to me, you wouldn't have to worry about all this. . .”
his sly fingers brushed your hair back. a kiss pressed to your temple.
“I'd take care of you.”
˖ ࣪꒰ PROFESSOR SATORU ꒱ ˙˖ knew you were on the brink. knew it wouldn't take long before you were in his arms again. he just had to wait. even when his fingers ached for your skin. when his lips burned for yours. when his palms itched to just grab you by the waist and drag you back to him cause you were such a stubborn girl.
but he'd wait. wait for you to make the decision. wait for you to realise that you were always his and he was the best you ever had.
so you could imagine his grin when you stayed back after class. when you stood in front of his desk with your eyes batting at him. hesitant. shaky. when you asked him for extra credit in his class that you were now borderline failing. but most of all, when you offered your pretty body to him without him even uttering a word.
this is what he meant. what he waiting for. for you to make the moves. to miss him. to want him.
he fucked you into your dorm bed that night. with your face shoved down and your fingers clinging to your pillow. ass clapping and brushing with his brutal thrusts that smacked his heavy balls on your folds. cock splitting you open and spilling your creamy mess all over the wrinkled sheets.
his hand in your hair. his voice rough in your ear.
“like that, sweetheart? want it like that?” he grinned, feral and cruel as you mewled when he angled right. shoved into a sweetspot and ground so filthily until your eyes rolled back as you drooled his name into the pillow.
“missed how I fucked you— right here?”
“r-right there! please!”
“uhuh? righhhttt here?”
he drawled. hand smacking down on your ass and leaving a sting, before he reached around. pinching and pulling on your spasming clit. as he slammed! all the way in. jamming his hips with yours and rutting on your messy, creaming folds. so a lewd, clickclickclick muffled from your overly-stuffed cunt.
“fuck—” satoru rasped. eyes wild and dilated as his fingers bunched your hair tighter. shoved your face further into the pillow. “take it. take this cock like you were born to. like this slutty cunt missed it.”
he missed your squirts. missed your sobs. missed the way your hand tried to scramble back and grip on his hair as he pummelled your pussy all raw and rough into the ruined sheets.
his eyes fluttered back as you squeezed him again. as you struggled on his name and squirmed beneath him.
“s-sato— sat— hngh.”
“say it, sweetheart.” he grit, twisting your head up. slamming his hips faster. bouncing your body on the bed and slamming the headboard into the wall. making your cunt all puffy and his cock all creamy in your cum.
“say my name. say you missed it. tell me whose pussy this is.”
“satoru— toru! toru torruuuu.”
“and don't you ever—” he whined, cock plunging deep as the knot within him snapped. as he frothed him up the way he's been missing. lashes fluttering and eyes rolling back. a filthy, wet, thrust smacked on your bruising ass emphasised every word.
“— ever. fucking. forget it.”
˖ ࣪꒰ PROFESSOR SATORU ꒱ ˙˖ thought you would have came back to him after that, but he guessed you were more stubborn than he gave you credit for. that's fine. you just needed one more push. one more and then you'd be back where you finally belonged: in his arms.
so, yeah. he was responsibly fucking pissed when he saw you chatting up the campus fuckboy. hell— when he heard rumours that you two were a thing.
but he calmed himself down. enough to not snatch you by the wrist in the hallway and shove you into a wall. kiss you until your knees trembled. shoved his tongue into your mouth for all to see until he lost his job. that what you wanted? wanted him to be ruined for you?
calmed himself down enough to wait until the day ended. so he could back you into an empty corridor's corner. his hand on your jaw. tilting your face up. so that you could stare into the eyes of the man who had you squirting all over his cock just a few weeks ago. the man who was always yours no matter how much you tried to admit otherwise.
“you know he's not me, right?” he spoke, that nonchalance breaking for the first time in these wretched months you've been apart from him.
he leaned close. didn't kiss you. not your lips, but your temple. as he stared you down. cold. calloused. a warning cracked in those brutal blues.
“he'll never treat you like me. never know how to handle a sweetheart like you.”
his voice shook. breath thinned.
and for the first time since you left him, satoru shattered.
not pitifully, not pathetically, not violently nor catastrophically—
but sharp. and soft. and the kind of breathlessly that made you think his lungs were giving out— as he slumped over you. free hand trembling on the wall right beside your head. still holding your face. cradling it now.
“guys your age won't treat you like I do baby. not like you deserve.”
his thumb brushed your lower lip. he whispered. raw and wrecked.
“won't love you like I do. I love you sweetheart. I fucking love you. don't leave me here.”
˖ ࣪꒰ PROFESSOR SATORU ꒱ ˙˖ really underestimated your stubbornness. your resolve. he was almost proud when you shoved him off and he let you go. when you walked away from him.
fine. he just had to wait a little longer. a little longer and you'd come back to him.
next week. a friday night. a phone call.
he didn't blink when he saw your name. when he answered. when he heard your soft, choked sob.
his voice melted into tenderness. soothed your cries. asked you where you were. came and picked you up, because he always would. you'd always be his sweet girl, after all.
satoru warned you about that guy. so he wasn't surprised when he pulled up to the street that you were dropped off on. in the middle of the night. cold and alone. all teary eyes and trembling knees. wasn't surprised when you scrambled into his car and clung to the jacket he gave you.
he listened. as he always did. listened as you cried and ranted and raved about how that guy broke your heart several times tonight. then kicked you out of his car and left you stranded. like you were nothing.
he took you into his arms. as he always did. took you into his arms after he cradled you into his apartment. held you close as you clung to him. hiccuping into his chest and sobbing into his shirt. apologising, crying, apologising, sobbing.
apologising.
begging.
“ssshhh I've got you sweet girl.” strong arms looped you closer. cradled you in that protective warmth with one hand cupping the back of your head and the other one your hip. as he hushed your cries. assured you. squeezed your hip and whispered so tenderly.
“I've got you no sweetheart. not gonna let you go again, okay? I promise baby.”
˖ ࣪꒰ PROFESSOR SATORU ꒱ ˙˖ who cradled your head closer and pressed his lips to the top of your head.
who held your close. who promised to never let you go.
who slipped his phone out of his pocket and held it up behind your head. still cradled by his other, big hand. with his soft kiss still on your hair.
his thumb slid across the screen.
transaction completed.
the final half paid to that bum of a guy you insisted on. who broke your heart for some cash. funny how a little bit of money was all you needed to have your way.
and as satoru held your close. with his arms snuggling you to his chest, and his eyes finally fluttering shut. he relished.
because yeah. you're finally back into his arms. just needed a little nudge.
18+ ⸝⸝⸝ 𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐀 & nerd!reader making out for the first time (spoiler: he’s a goner) <3
part 1 | part 2
the air is thick with it—wet, greedy kisses that sound like he’s trying to overwhelm you, even as his mouth keeps brushing yours like he’s afraid to let go.
sukuna kisses you while you’re on his lap like a starved man, lips moving with a kind of urgency that blurs the line between respect and pure want.
one hand stays firm at the back of your neck, his palm hot against you your skin. the other swallows your face, cupping your cheek with a gentleness that almost feels wrong on him. though his grip tightens as if he can’t help it—holding you there, trapping you in him.
you’ve kissed him before, sure—shy, hesitant things that barely brushed the surface since the time you’ve began dating.
he was your first boyfriend. your first kiss.
but you’d never done anything like this before.
sukuna won’t ever admit it, but you were too damn cute today—your oversized sweater, glossy lips, baggy jeans, and glasses slipping down your nose. of course he couldn’t hold back any longer.
his tongue slides against yours and you whine into his mouth, finally melting above him. your fingers twist in his shirt, he lets out a low sound against your mouth—something between a groan and a laugh.
your glasses press crookedly against his face, the cool frame digging into his cheek as he kisses you harder. he doesn’t even care. if anything, it only spurs him on. he growls a quiet curse against your lips, chasing you when you try to pull back to fix them. his hand shifts from your neck to the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair as if to say don’t you dare.
you try to mumble something—maybe an apology—but it’s swallowed by the next kiss.
he tastes like heat, a gatorade, and something dizzying (though that’s probably just a side effect of his lips on yours).
the way his breath shudders when you instinctively lean further into him makes your stomach flip.
it’s messy. it’s clumsy. and it’s so him.
it’s almost funny, how this even started. the two of you had always been a little mismatched—him, loud and infuriating; you, the quiet one in the front of every lecture with the best grades.
he’d tease you endlessly just to see that your flustered reaction, calling you nerd like it was your name.
when sukuna came crashing into your life, he was loud and unapologetic—the kind of guy who ruled every room without trying. but you? you were the quiet, awkward, stuck behind your laptop type. you were someone he shouldn’t have noticed, let alone liked.
but he did. somehow.
he’d lean against your table in the library during study sessions just to get under your skin, tossing out comments that made your face heat up. “you’re really gonna skip dinner to study for a test?” or, “how are you still cute with those eye bags, nerd?”
but every time, you couldn’t help but wonder what a guy like him was doing in a library and talking to a girl like you.
the teasing was constant, but something else hid underneath it—something that made your chest tighten whenever he looked at you a second too long.
it was in moments where your eyes accidentally met his across campus and you immediately glanced away, convinced he hadn’t really been looking at you. or when you caught his gaze while he was laughing with his friends and had to pretend you weren’t wondering why someone like him would notice you at all.
and now, with your glasses tilted and your lips swollen from his kisses, that same look flickers in his eyes. the one that says he doesn’t mean half the things he says because around you? sukuna’s never really been as sharp as he pretends to be.
he leans in again, and before you can think, the kiss deepens. slower this time, but heavier—like he’s sinking into it.
your fingers curl in the fabric of his shirt once more, and that’s all it takes for him to lose whatever restraint he had left. with a low sound that sends heat rushing to your face, he shifts his weight, guiding you back until your shoulders hit the mattress.
the world tilts. your breath stutters.
his hand braces beside your head, his body hovering just above yours. your dorm room feels too small now, every breath shared.
“relax,” he murmurs, voice rough, but his eyes are soft—softer than you’ve ever seen them. dilated until you can barely see the crimson color of his eyes.
when he kisses you again, it’s needier, like he’s afraid the moment will end too soon. your glasses slide a little down your nose again when you move to sit up on your elbows, and he laughs quietly against your mouth—a sound that makes your breath hitch—brushing them back up with his knuckles before kissing you once more, even harder this time.
your heartbeat is wild, matching the rhythm of his. you’re flustered and overwhelmed but you don’t want him to stop. not when he’s looking at you like that. not when every kiss feels like a secret he’s been holding in for far too long.
your breath catches when his lips leave yours for only a moment—just long enough for him to look at you like he’s still trying to understand how he ended up here, above you, wanting you this much. his thumb skims your cheekbone, slow and distracted, like his body is moving ahead of his thoughts.
“y’know,” he mutters, voice low and almost irritated, “you drive me insane.”
you barely have time to process it before his mouth is on yours for the nth time—now nothing like the seemingly controlled kisses from before.
it’s like he’s losing patience with himself and with you. with the space between your bodies that he keeps trying to erase.
when he pulls back, it’s not far. just enough for his forehead to rest against yours, breaths tangling.
“you don’t even get it, do you?” he murmurs, words barely shaped.
you manage an breathy exhale, answer confused, “g-get what?”
he doesn’t answer.
instead, his gaze drags over your face like he’s memorizing something he refuses to say out loud.
and then without warning his mouth drops to your throat.
the shift is instant. rougher. desperate.
his hand curls at your hip, dragging you closer as his lips find the warm skin beneath your jaw, kissing, then biting. soft, then not soft at all. your breath hitches, fingers gripping his shoulders, and he makes a low noise against your neck like that reaction alone is all the explanation he’s willing to give.
he doesn’t stop there.
his mouth trails lower. it’s almost like he’s trying to chase every shiver he pulls from you. his nose skims your throat, breath hot against your skin.
his grip on your hip tightens, not enough to hurt—just enough to tell you he’s losing whatever control he walked in with.
you gasp when he pulls you fully against him, the closeness stealing your breath even further. that little noise goes straight to his head. his hand slides from your hip to the small of your back, pressing your chest against his, keeping you there like he doesn’t want to let go.
“stay still,” he breathes against your neck. except you can hear it in his voice, the way it cracks a little—he’s the one who can’t stay still.
his lips find a spot just beneath your ear, and when you shudder, he laughs. this time quiet and breathless, not mocking at all. like he can’t believe what you do to him.
he mouths at your pulse again, deeper, lingering like he’s trying to mark the moment into memory.
your fingers slide up into his hair without thinking, and the second you tug—just barely—his breath catches hard against your skin.
the sound that leaves him is almost pained.
he kisses down your neck again like he needs you closer than your body will physically allow.
and then, he’s grinding his hips against yours and that’s when you feel it.
a whimper escapes you and then you realize he doesn’t even know it. the movement was instinctive. heat blooms in your chest and low in your stomach, sudden and sharp, and he just hums against your skin, lost in the closeness between you.
“kuna—” it comes out as a whine as you push him back, eyes wide.
he grunts, reaching instinctively to pull you back in, “what?”
then his eyes catch where you’re looking and a flash of awareness hits him. a faint red color blooms upon his cheeks as he realizes exactly what it is.
he’s hard.
fuck.
ryomen sukuna was not a man who got hard just from just kissing.
sukuna hides himself at the crook of your neck, “just—just stop— don’t look! i-ignore it.”
did he just stutter?
series masterlist | open taglist!
part 2
this is my first sukuna fic (that i'm posting at least) and the first thing i've written since disappearing off the face of tumblr!!! i hope i wrote him well enough because this has been in my drafts for months😓
making your big and strong boyfriend submit to you was incredibly fun. Tying him to a chair, watching his cock get hard as you slowly undressed in front of him, grinding your wet pussy across his clothed cock, making sure he can feel your heat through the fabric. You laugh when he groans in frustration, his muscles bulging out from the rope around his skin. He fights so hard to get out, itching to get his hands on you, needy and desperate to feel you. Instead, you tease him for what seems like hours. He whines, throwing his head back when he feels your soft hands graze his aching cock.
“What’s the matter?” You innocently blink up at him.
“Come on, baby,” he sighs, “just get me outta these fucking ropes.” He breathes heavily, eyes following your every move when you stand back up. “F-fuck…god, you look so fucking perfect. Let me touch you, please, please—what…where are you going?” You walk around towards the back of the chair, resting your hand on his shoulder.
He strains against the ropes, pulling against them but ultimately failing. “You’re gonna leave marks on your skin if you keep doing that,” you giggle, running your hand along his chest.
“You’re not being fair,” his breath hitches. “I swear I’ll behave…just let me at least touch you.”
“Oh, but, sweetheart,” you stand in front of him again, climbing into his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck, “you and I both know you’re not going to behave. You always get to have all the fun!” You pout.
“Ohhh, fuck fuck,” he whispers under his breath when you glide your slit along his cock. His eyes clench shut, biting down on his bottom lip. “Baby,” he breathes, “get me out of these fucking things. Im not playing around.” He grunts, his cock aching, damn near ready to explode just from getting a simple pussy job.
“Mmmm, let me think…no.” You smile at him, moving your hips faster.
He lets out a choked moan, wiggling against the ropes, but the more he moves, the more friction he creates. His cock and balls already feel full and heavy, and he knows he could cum any minute now if you keep teasing him like this—with your tits bouncing in his face and your juices coating his dick.
“Stop, stop, stop, you’re gonna make me cum,” his mouth drops open, breathy moans and gasps escaping. “Baby,” he gasps, “fuck, I’m close! Oh shit, shit—mmmph, wait…why are you slowing down? No, no! Baby! Fuck!” He shouts in frustration.
You laugh in his face, climbing off of his lap to watch his cock throb, veins pulsating, the tip swollen and red. “Sorry, were you going to cum?”
“Yes! You know I was! Shit! Fuck you!” He whines, thrusting his hips upwards. “Why are you doing this, huh? Is it because you want a little bit of control? Well, I’ll give to you. You got me, yeah?” He nods.
“Wow, you’re really trying your hardest to get out of these ropes aren’t you?”
He sighs in defeat, eyes fluttering shut. His cock is leaking, looking for any sort of relief whether it be from you or himself. At this point, he might just cum without even being touched. He so fucking hard it hurts. He sits there, watching as you bend over in front of him, giving him a perfect view of your ass and leaking pussy. His eyes soften, desperate at just the sight of it. What he would do to taste you, touch you, be inside of you.
“Is this what you want so badly?” You look back at him, arching your back further. Your hand reaches between your legs, giving your pussy a few light smacks.
He sits there like a man stuck in a daze, watching intently at how you rub and smack and your cunt, playing in his face, spreading it for him. He could feel his entire body heat up, breathing heavy, almost like he was about to cum. But how? Could he really cum without being touched? Was sitting here tied up, watching you play with yourself truly enough to get him off?
Before he knew it, thick ropes of cum shot everywhere, his hips twitching as cum landed on his pants, shirt, the floor. “Oh my god! Fuck!” He groaned, sucking in a breath. His head fell back, the intensity of it all draining him. Was he still cumming? Yes, yes he was. He was left shaking, voice trembling when he lifted his head and called out to you. “Baby.”
You sat there in awe, watching the entire thing go down from start to finish. Firstly, you’ve never seen him cum without being touched. You thought that was a myth. Secondly, you’ve never seen him cum so much, it quite literally got everywhere. “Wow,” you laughed, looking at him.
“I feel like I’m gonna fucking pass out.” He stared at you with low lidded eyes. “Fuck,” he sighed. “What did you do to me?” He cocked his head to the side.
“I didn’t expect that at all.” You slowly stand to your feet, stepping towards him. He looks completely drained, and you wouldn’t blame, especially after that orgasm.
“Untie me, please,” he softly says, barely having the energy to speak. Without hesitation you undo the knot, letting the rope fall to the floor.
“Are you…okay? I don’t want to make you stand if you’re actually going to pass out.” You gently stroke his hair, allowing him to rest his eyes and catch his breath.
“Just come sit on my lap. I need to hold you.” You climb into his lap, curling up as he wraps his arms around you, hugging you tightly as he finally gets to touch you. “How’d you do that?”
“I honestly don’t know,” you chuckle. “I’m shocked too.”
“That was the most intense orgasm of my life. I don’t think I’ve ever came for that long. And my legs were shaking. Is that how you feel?” He smirks.
“Baby, I think you take top spot to be honest.” You raise your brows.
“Yeah, well, maybe we should try it again.”
tbh I was picturing any of the jjk men with this one so that’s why it isn’t character specific bc I’d tie up any of them tbh hehehe
𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. you try out the recent tiktok trend with your boyfriend: tricking him into holding his arms up for a so-called challenge, then surprising him with a kiss to see if he melts into it.
tags. gojo satoru, geto suguru, nanami kento, fushiguro toji, sukuna ryomen, kamo choso x reader (separate). fluff, suggestive themes. implied size difference. reader is called ‘baby, angel, sweetheart, brat, doll’ :: wc: 2.6k :: an: didn’t know if it started out as a challenge on tt but lets pretend it did
𝜗𝒞 GOJO SATORU
you’ve seen the trend blowing up on tiktok—girlfriends tricking their boyfriends into holding their arms up for some fake “challenge,” only to surprise them with a kiss and see if they’d melt into it.
with satoru, you figured it would be the perfect way to catch him off guard. he’s always the one teasing you, always so sure of himself, but you also know he’s a sucker for your affection. especially when you show it unexpectedly.
you set up your phone discreetly on the kitchen counter, propping it against a mug to capture the angle.
“okay, ‘toru,” you say casually and try to keep a straight face, “stand right here with your arms up like this—it’s for a challenge. don’t move, no matter what.”
satoru raises an eyebrow as that signature smirk of his tugs at his glossy lips. he complies easily and lifts his arms above his head in a dramatic way. his shirt rides up, revealing that sexy happy trail disappearing beneath the waistband of his sweatpants.
“a challenge, huh? y’know i never lose those,” satoru brags, a flash of excitement and amusement flashing in his bright blue eyes before they narrow playfully.
he can’t help but ramble on confidently as if he’s got it all figured out, “what’s the catch? are ya suddenly gonna tickle me or—”
before he can finish, you step forward. you cup his face and pull him down into a surprisingly gentle kiss. your plump lips press against his softly at first, as if testing the waters.
for a split second, you feel him freeze. a sign that his brain is probably trying to process the surprise. his cheeks flush a faint shade of pink as he gets a bit flustered by the gesture—a rare sight and one you cherish.
then, just like that, he . . . melts.
satoru’s arms drop instantly. one hand slides to the back of your head to hold onto your hair, keeping you close as he deepens the kiss. the other hand sneaks around your waist before playfully squeezing your ass. the touch pulls a gasp from you that he swallows with a low chuckle.
“mmh, sneaky little minx,” the white-haired man murmurs against your lips, his voice sultry and teasing. he fondles your curves shamelessly in the meantime. like he can’t get enough of you.
you pull back just enough to breathe, but he doesn’t let you go far. he nips at your bottom lip;
“oh? y’ think you can pull that on me and get away with it so easily?” satoru’s blue eyes sparkle with mischief, the flush fading but that cocky grin widening, “aht-aht, it’s my turn.”
your boyfriend spins you around to press your lower back against the counter as he kisses you again, slower this time, savoring it. his hand stays firm on your head and tilts you just right. the other explores and slides up your side before brushing against the undersides of your breasts.
the phone’s still recording, but you forget about it entirely. even more so when satoru pulls back just enough to whisper right against your parted mouth.
“i think we should keep this in the vid—let ‘em all see what my girl does to me.”
not giving you a chance to retort, he captures your lips in another kiss. this time it’s deeper and more intimate. a promise of more to come.
𝜗𝒞 GETO SUGURU
you position your phone on the living room shelf, hidden behind a plant for the perfect shot for this ‘challenge’ you want to do with your dear boyfriend.
“hey, sugu!” you call out innocently before waving him over, “come here for a sec. i need you to stand with your arms up like this—it’s a dumb challenge thing. just hold them up, okay?”
suguru, who’s been reading a book on the couch, curiously raises a brow. he puts a bookmark between the pages before standing up the second you call out for him. he walks over with a hand in his pocket.
your lover tilts his head at your beaming smile, dark strands of hair falling over his shoulder as he smirks ever so faintly. he knows you’re probably up to no good, but he indulges you without hesitation.
“alright. if you say so, angel,” suguru hums. he lifts his arms gracefully, muscles flexing under his loose shirt, “what’s the goal here? an endurance test?”
you don’t answer with words. instead, you close the distance between you by rising on your toes to capture his lips in an unexpected yet sweet kiss.
suguru pauses for a heartbeat. and then you feel it—the curve of his smile against your mouth. he doesn’t resist at all. he returns the kiss gently, his lips moving with yours in that warm and unhurried way that always makes your heart flutter.
his arms drop down slowly to wrap around your waist, palms resting against the small of your back. he pulls you closer and squeezes you to his chest in a tender embrace. it’s not forceful, just secure, like he’s enveloping you in his world.
“ah, you got me,” suguru murmurs into the kiss with an indulgent chuckle, voice laced with affection and amusement.
you deepen the kisses a little and he immediately matches your rhythm. one hand slides up your back to hold you steady while the other stays at your waist, his thumb tracing lazy circles along your shirt.
when you finally break apart, his eyes are soft and that small smile still lingers on his lips. “that was clever. didn’t see it coming at all,” suguru chuckles and squeezes your waist.
you laugh and rest your forehead against his, “hehe, the trend’s all over tiktok. it’s kinda like a ‘see if your boyfriend melts into the kiss’ thing,”
suguru chuckles before pulling you even tighter to his chest. “oh—well, how could i not?” he leans in for another quick peck, “you’re too irresistible for any challenge to hold up.”
the phone is forgotten in the background as he sways with you slightly, like a slow dance.
“next time, warn me,” suguru teases as he lightly flicks your forehead, but his tone is fond, “or don’t actually—i like the surprise.”
𝜗𝒞 NANAMI KENTO
you prop your phone on the desk in your boyfriend’s study, angling it just right. kento watches you from the corner of his eye while he checks a few documents.
“kennn,” you say after a couple seconds pass, “indulge me for a moment? stand here and hold your arms up like this—it’s for a challenge. don’t lower them until i say, ‘kay?”
kento adjusts his glasses and leans back in his chair. a small frown of curiosity creases his brow, but he complies without protest. he stands up and comes to a stop in front of you.
he raises his arms steadily. his eyes soften as he looks down at you, “a challenge, hm? sure.”
smiling inwardly, you step closer and loop your arms around his neck before you connect your lips in a kiss. it’s soft at first, your lips moving against his simultaneously. you feel him tense slightly in surprise—his eyes widening a fraction.
then they close and kento leans into it. the kiss turns gentle, loving and slow. like he’s savoring a fine wine.
the blonde’s arms lower gracefully with both hands coming up to cup your face. the pads of his thumbs strok your cheeks with tender care as his tongue swipes over your bottom lip, coaxing a satisfied sigh out of you.
kento holds you like you’re precious, deepening the kiss without rush and pouring quiet passion into every move of his mouth against yours.
when you pull back slightly, his eyes open with a warm and affectionate light glinting in them.
“that was quite sneaky,” he chuckles softly, a hint of feigned reproach in his voice, but it’s undercut by the way his thumbs that keep lovingly caressing your cheekbones.
“you could have just asked for a kiss, sweetheart,” kento teases with a hint of a grin.
you giggle before leaning into his touch, “but where’s the fun in that? it’s a trend—to see if you’d melt into the kiss.”
kento sighs fondly and places a quick peck to your forehead, “i see. well, consider me defeated.”
your boyfriend pulls you back in to kiss you again, this time with a bit more intensity. like he can’t wait to turn the initial ‘tiktok trend’ into something more.
the world fades—the pile of work on his desk, the muffled chatter outside your home—until it’s just the two of you.
𝜗𝒞 FUSHIGURO TOJI
you hide your phone on the nightstand in your shared bedroom with the camera aimed at the bed’s edge.
“hey, babe,” you motion for toji to come over to you, batting your lashes so he’d comply, “stand here with your arms up for a second. it’s like a challenge. don't drop ‘em, or you lose.”
toji, who was lazying around on the bed, drops his phone to the side after a second. he stands up with a grunt and grumbles something under his breath before standing in front of you.
the dark-haired man towers over your smaller frame. he looks at you and them at the phone before smirking, scarred lip curling up. he raises his arms and the muscles bulge slightly.
“a challenge? doll, y’know damn well i don't play games i can't win,” toji boasts and flexes his arms a bit as if expecting something physical, “what’s the prize? better be y’r pu—”
with not another word, you lunge forward and crash your lips against his.
toji grunts in surprise, but it lasts a nanosecond before he goes all in. he bites down on your bottom lip with just enough pressure to make you whimper. his raised arms drop like dead weight within a split second, veiny hands grabbing your ass and lifting you up effortlessly.
you wrap your legs around his waist on instinct. your boyfriend deepens the kiss, rough and passionate, his tongue invading your mouth like he owns it. he backs you up against the wall next to the bed and pins you there with his body. one hand squeezes your thigh while the other grips your hip hard enough to bruise. in the best way.
“fuck the challenge,” toji growls against your mouth, his voice gruff. it’s like that simple kiss has unlocked his pent-up desire for you. he grinds his hips up against yours before moving on to nip at your neck, “y’ think you can tease me like that and not pay up?”
you laugh breathlessly, but it’s abruptly cut off as he kisses you hard again, his hands squeezing the plump flesh of your ass.
you realise the phone’s still rolling and capturing every heated moment. perhaps it’d be smart to stop it before things turn. . . real explicit.
“wait—camera’s on,” you manage between gasps.
toji breaks the kiss before glancing at it with a wicked smirk. he turns back to you and angles your bodies just right so your phone gets everything on screen;
“good. keep it on—show ‘em how i really handle you.”
he carries you to the bed and tosses you down before blanketing your body with his larger one, the kisses turning almost feral in the meantime. clothes start coming off and moans fill the air.
and the video? it might just capture more than a trend.
𝜗𝒞 SUKUNA RYOMEN
trying the tiktok trend on sukuna felt risky—faking a ‘challenge’ only to kiss him and test if he’d melt into it. you don’t think the king of curses would exactly ‘melt’ into it. you set it up anyway, curious and determined about cracking that facade. even if it’s just a tiny bit.
your phone leans against a book on the table to record everything subtly.
“ryo,” you call out, your voice steady despite your nerves, “can you please come and stand here with your arms raised? it’s a challenge.”
sukuna scoffs from his place on the couch, red eyes narrowing at you. though he decides to humor you so you won’t whine in his hear.
he stands up and looms over you, raising his beefy arms up, but not without complaining gruffly, “tch. be quick about it, brat. got stuff to do.”
you roll your eyes, not bothering to reply verbally. you step closer, wrap your arms around his neck and tilt his face down to kiss him, lips smushed firm against his.
sukuna stays still for a moment, unyieldingly so, then lets out a gruff scoff into your mouth. he then kisses back with pure dominance. hard and unforgiving, but not entirely brutal. it’s like he’s aiming to reclaim the upper hand in this situation.
his arms drop instantly and wrap around your smaller form, squeezing you tight to his chest as he lifts you effortlessly. your feet dangle off the ground and your nails dig into the skin of his shoulders for stability.
“hah, knew you’d pull some shit like this,” sukuna mutters while biting down on your bottom lip. he relishes the yelp you let out before the kiss intensifies.
his grip turns almost bruising but thrilling, holding you like you’re prey. with a casual flick of his fingers, sukuna sends your phone skittering across the table to make space.
he then lays you down on the same surface and hovers over you, blocking out any light. his crimson eyes gleam with smug satisfaction.
“challenge over, woman,” sukuna growls while his lips move against yours, controlling the rhythm. one hand pins you by the shoulder, another grabbing your jaw. it’s intense and overwhelming, but you melt under it.
he nibbles on your bottom lip with his fangs, almost hard enough to draw blood, “next time, just beg if ya want my attention that fuckin’ badly.”
𝜗𝒞 CHOSO KAMO
you set your phone on the coffee table, hidden by a vase. “cho, c’mere,” you say lightly, “i need you to stand with your arms up for this challenge. don’t drop them, okay? it’s important.”
choso walks into the living room, hair still a bit wet as he had just finished showering. he blinks, a tad confused but trusting. he raises his arms obediently
“like this? what’s it for? some kinda training?” choso asks curiously.
smiling, you approach and lean in to kiss him without warning. your lips are gentle against his, a soft caress that has him short-circuiting. he keeps his arms up, almost frozen and only blinks a few times as realization dawns. his cheeks tint pink and his eyes widening before they soften.
choso slowly kisses back and his arms stay up for a few more seconds before finally dropping just to pull you close. his fingers hold you by the back of your head, keeping you pressed up against him while he goes all putty in your embrace.
a soft smile breaks between kisses as he murmurs, “that was sly of you,” choso’s voice is quiet and affectionate, his tongue brushing yours once you part your lips, “real sly, pulling that on me.”
you gently laugh into the kiss and he deepens it gently, hands tentative at first though slowly growing bolder. one cups your cheek, the other still holding you by your nape.
“didn't expect that,” he whispers and smiles wider, “but i like it. a whole lot.”
the phone captures it all: the initial obliviousness, the surprise and the eventual kissing. but choso’s focus is only on you now, kisses interspersed with soft words.
“you’re full of surprises, baby,” he says and nuzzles your nose, “do stuff like this more often, yeah?”
˖ ࣪૮₍ 𝓝.𝐄𝐑𝐃 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 & 𝓑.𝐈𝐊𝐄𝐑 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𓂃 ⭒ are twins you're fucking. . . but you think they're both the same person.
⤿ ꒰ you get caught between the campus' valedictorian and hearthrob, completely unaware that they're actually twins and not just one annoying person :: college au :: smut :: named twin :: m.masturbation :: f.oral :: overstimulation :: dumbification :: marking :: creampie :: panty stealing :: jealousy/possessiveness ꒱
♡ :: part two
˖ ࣪꒰ NERDJO ꒱ ˙˖ is the guy you wanna be. gojo satoru is the top of all his classes. pretty boy valedictorian. yeah he's a little awkward and emotionally inept but that big of a brain has to come with some kinda catch no? he's quiet, cold, and observant. the one you don't notice at the back of the class— but ever ready to throw a sharp tongued comment. he's not very expressive about his more popular twin. in fact, he doesn't talk about him at all. silent and seething in his shadow.
˖ ࣪꒰ BIKERJO ꒱ ˙˖ is the guy you wanna be with. gojo satoshi is the campus heartthrob. all smooth talk and bedroom eyes. walking like the world owed him something and grinning like it already gave it to him. yeah, he's a bit of a player. a fuckboy by nature but hey— the girls fawn for a reason, don't they? he'll ditch class for a ride round town. pick up another pretty thing with an engine rev and flip of his visor. he's a lot more vocal about his twin. teasing and belittling whenever he's nearby. but god knows he'll never seek him out willingly. he can't stand the smart talks and sharp eyes.
˖ ࣪꒰ BIKERJO ꒱ ˙˖ knew he wanted you the second he saw you trotting outside campus. he was parked. occupied with his phone. but the second you passed by? he glanced up. and oh. he's never seen a girl so pretty. of course he did what he always did— threw some charming flirt. revved his bike. flipped his visor with a smooth, “haven't seen you around. you new here, pretty girl? need a tour?”
but when you just glared at him? huffed and gripped your bag tighter? something in his heart fluttered. he just had to chase after you.
“bad mood, sweetheart? lemme cheer you up. take you out sometime. get to know you better.” he crooned. absolutely not getting the hint until you spun around and jabbed a manicured nail to his chest.
“do me a favour and take a hike, won't you?”
and that, was the first day satoshi had ever been rejected. and he fucking loved it.
˖ ࣪꒰ NERDJO ꒱ ˙˖ met you in class the day after. you recognised him, of course. the white hair, those killer blue eyes. seemed he had glasses now. you glowered as you realised the only seat left was next to him. the jerk who couldn't take a hint yesterday. you sat yourself down. took out your books. focused on the lecture. relocating campuses after a semester wasn't the most ideal and you had tons of work to catch up on.
so of course you were even more frustrated when a tap on your shoulder interrupted you mid class.
“hey, do you have a spare pen?”
you snapped your gaze towards him. eyes narrowed. yesterday's irritation bubbling at the seams. “are you dumb or just stupid?”
you watched his eyes widened behind specs before he returned your glare with a hissed, “the fuck's your problem?”
“you are. now for the last time— leave me alone.”
and that's, how you made an enemy. completely, blissfully unaware that the man you were actually mad at was satoru's twin.
but for entire semester, you wouldn't know they were two separate people.
˖ ࣪꒰ BIKERJO ꒱ ˙˖ would try his luck. you and him were in a thursday and friday class, and he'd use his every waking opportunity to grab your attention. flirts, charms, everything infuriating in between. he caught you in town once, rushing to get to campus and of course, offered you a ride.
“c'mon babydoll. is being late to class really better than takin' a ride with me?” he'd grin.
you'd flip him off. hiss another rejection. you knew about guys like him. you saw him in the hallways. loud, boisterous, flirting with any pair of pretty eyes that looked his way.
it confused you though. why'd he only flirt with you on thursdays and fridays? also where were his glasses?
˖ ࣪꒰ NERDJO ꒱ ˙˖ would go on to be your enemy of the semester. ever since your altercation in class, he's made it his personal life goal to hate you with his entire being. unfortunately for him, you were also smart. but a bit too confident for your own good, it seemed. did you really think you could compete with him? and so began the most fiery academic rivalry in history.
you'd be neck in neck. fighting for first place as professor's pet and battling it out on the grade scoreboards.
he'd get an assignment back with a stellar 99%, only to look over at your measly 94%. he'd grin, like an asshole. “must be hard being such a loser, huh?”
only to crumple his next assignment into tight fists when you managed to get just one percentage higher than him.
he'd exchange banter with you. debate you in class. call you a brat when you tried to prove him wrong and challenge him.
you were brilliant and unfortunately, beautiful. satoru didn't know what was happening to him. it slowly became something that wasn't just academics. and that terrified him.
as for you? you were in the same boat. the last thing you wanted was to fall in love with this asshole. but you had to admit, he looked cuter when he decided to wear his glasses and tone down the fuckboy act every monday and tuesday.
why'd he switch so drastically through the week? what a weirdo.
˖ ࣪꒰ BIKERJO ꒱ ˙˖ listened to his brother rant about the irritating girl that was his astrophysics desk partner. about how she was so unnecessarily rude and even more audacious. satoshi couldn't help but grin. was satoru, his loser of a brother, actually finding love? and when he found out that the girl in question was you? he couldn't blame him. he's been trying for months to get your number, let alone get up your skirt. he dubbed it as competitiveness. he's never had a girl reject him and thus— it's made him a little obsessed. he couldn't stop thinking about you. in bed, in the shower, hell, seeing you walk around campus and not even look at him was torture.
˖ ࣪꒰ NERDJO ꒱ ˙˖ hated himself for the way he turned out. he's not sure how it happened. just one day after a heated debate with you, he'd stormed off back to his dorm. collapsed in his desk. shoved his glasses into his hair. and soon, angry scribbling in his notes became desperate jerks of his hand as he fucked his fist. to the thought of you. that grating voice, that beautifully sharp mind. everything. he hated himself. hated that he was thinking about this. he wasn't satoshi. he didn't want girls like this— he sure as hell didn't fuck his fist this needy to one either. and yet when he spurted all over his hand, panting hard and whispering your name, it felt oddly right. it scared him.
˖ ࣪꒰ BIKERJO ꒱ ˙˖ dragged satoru out at the end of semester to a party. told himself he was being a good brother. might as well try to get along, right? but satoru was so boring. he didn't drink, didn't chat, just sat in some corner with his headset on and scrolled through his phone. and satoshi? he was all over the place. bouncing and bubbling, bumping and grinding. a red solo cup in his hand. keeping as far as fucking away from his twin as possible. fuck. why'd he even bring him here?
his irritation washed away the second he saw you, however. dolled up, dangerous, looking like both sin and sugar. he left behind his friends, ignored whatever girl tried to come his way.
he found you at the drinks table. propped his forearm on it and grinned at your little glare.
“this isn't really your scene, babydoll. tagged along with someone?”
“a few friends.”
“wow. so she can be polite.”
you rolled your eyes and noticed he wasn't wearing his glasses. seemed that the fuckboy persona was on for the night. you bit back your questions and swirled your drink in your cup.
“you never give up, do you?” you mulled.
his head took a charming curve as he sipped his drink.
“not when I want something, no.” those blue eyes raked down your frame. tracing every curve. familiarising every inch.
he dared to lean closer. white lashes batting as his grin sets into a stunning smile.
“especially when that something is as a pretty as you.”
your heart fluttered. you shouldn't have talked to him. shouldn't have kept talking to him.
you're not sure how it happened. maybe finally accepting his flirts. maybe after months of touching yourself to the academic rivalry. this heated push and pull between the both of you.
you should have known better, but— you did it. you let satoshi take you to his dorm.
˖ ࣪꒰ BIKERJO ꒱ ˙˖ has been around the block. his touch dripped with experience. he unclasped your bra with ease. barely missed a beat in kisses. large hands roaming your sweet body he's been dreaming about since the start of semester. not an inch of hesitance in his fingertips as he slipped under your dress and dragged your damp panties down. “such a pretty girl,” he crooned to your ear. how many girls had he said that to? how many did he mean it?
he's been after you for months. chasing, wanting— yearning. satoshi never yearned. he got everything he ever wanted in life.
maybe that's why he loved having to work for you. for your smooth body on his bed, opened up and so soaked for him. maybe that's why he actually took his time. mouthing on your skin. burying his face in your cunt.
he only ever ate women out as a way to get them ready. courtesy, if anything. but now? fuck, he's never actually feasted on a girl. with his hands, calloused from endless hours on his bike, dragging your thighs over. trapping you. mouth messily moving on your slit. slurping, sucking, shaking his head and nudging his nose into your clit.
he fucked you on his tongue. made you cum on it more than any girl ever has. and as you gripped his hair and whined for him? not some prissy comment or attitude? he almost came in his pants.
˖ ࣪꒰ BIKERJO ꒱ ˙˖ couldn't even care less if you didn't suck him off. he didn't even want you to. he needed to be inside of you. needed to hold you down and fuck you into his sheets. make the girl who was so unattainable finally his.
the second he was buried to the hilt inside your welcoming pussy— he couldn't breathe. you were hot, tight, suffocating him with your dripping slick and clenching cunt. he's had many girls in this position before. but no one looked up at him with those eyes. no one sounded this sweet. made him lose his fucking mind.
satoshi wasn't gentle. he couldn't be. the second his tip smooched your cervix, his hands clamped on your waist as his hips started snapping. hard, controlled. an experienced rhythm that stuffed all his inches deep into your gooey heat and meshed your clit with his pelvis.
“fuuckk, babydoll,” he groaned from the back of his throat. hunching over you. one hand gripped your hip while the other slipped around to cup the back of your head.
he was losing himself. losing his fucking mind. the bed creaked. headboard tapped. but your pretty moans were all he was focused on. your sweet whimpers and little whines as he alternated rhythms. rolled his hips. went from grinding to humping to thrusting, until your toes curled and your back lurched off of the bed.
pretty nails down his back. teary doll eyes on him as your slick dripped down his balls and splattered all over his thighs with each firm thrust.
your lips parted. eyes glossed. he saw it. cradled your head close and slipped a thumb to your clit. he knew what it meant. saw his name on your tongue.
a groan built on his. thrusts surging into wet, rushed slaps pounding against your ass.
“say it for me baby. c'mon, say my name.”
“s-sat— sato—. . .” your eyes fluttered. head thrown back. loud and needy, your moan broke into the air.
“satoru!”
and broke satoshi's mind.
you didn't know any better. they're both reffered to as “gojo” in class and you've only heard one other person refer to one of them as “satoru”. you thought that was his name. thought they were one person.
˖ ࣪꒰ BIKERJO ꒱ ˙˖ frozen. stiffened mid thrust as the last syllables stung his ear. satoru. satoru. his twin brother? did you really just fucking call for his twin while he's balls deep inside of you. making your cunt cream and cry for him. making you— wait.
didn't satoru say you were rude to him for no reason at all?
satoshi's mind worked fast. piecing the puzzle and timeline together. you confused satoru for him back then. he didn't know whether to be amused or angry.
amused because, how in the hell did you think they were the same person?
angry because, he's the one who's been working his ass off for you attention— and it's his brother's name that you call instead?
either way, he grinned. halfway a threat and a taunt. “oh?” he crooned, bucking his hips hard into yours so that his fully seathed cock dragged on all of your sweet spots.
he leaned over you. white hair dusting over icy blues. your jaw trapped in his strong hand.
“you want toru baby? want me to go get him for you?”
your confused look almost had him cackling. before he slammed! into you again. hands bundling your thighs. grin turned sharp. he yanked you down to choke your cunt on his cock and jerked forward. pounding you into the mattress and snapping the headboard into the wall as your moans pitched into cries.
“sato—!”
he gripped your jaw tight. shoved two fingers on your tongue before you said his name again and made satoshi fuck you until you were a limp cumdump.
“satoshi.” he corrected with a pointed sneer. his rabid pace not once letting up. frustration pulsed into every vein of his ramming cock.
“satoshi. satoshi.” he grit, punctuating each repeat of his name with a rough thrust.
“satoshi's the one fucking you. not satoru. satoru's my fuckin' twin. I'm the one fucking this pretty cunt stupid. I'm the one you should be calling for.”
˖ ࣪꒰ BIKERJO ꒱ ˙˖ didn't give you time to process the fact that you'd thought he and his brother were one person. egged on from the frustration of wanting someone more than he's ever wanted anyone— only to have them moan out his twin's name— spurred his mind feral.
he pounded you into his sheets. pummeling your poor pussy until you squirted all over him. again, and again, and again— until you were saying his name. whining his name. sobbing his name.
he's not sure how many rounds he fucked you through. three? four? he pushed and pulled you into whatever position he could think of. threw your legs over his shoulders and fucked you until your eyes crossed. shoved you onto your stomach and pounded against your ass until your drool stained his pillow.
he couldn't care about finally having you anymore. if you wanted to act dumb— he'd fuck you stupid. fuck his silly girl who couldn't tell the obvious difference between him and his brother who actively despises him.
he made sure it was his name you knew. made sure you knew it was him inside of you. his cock making you cum. his hands holding you through it. and for extra measure? he sucked his name in hickeys on your collarbone.
TOSHI in blushing bruises.
he made sure to cum inside. creampie you nice and full until it was dripping. then snatched your panties and wiped the mess clean with them. he stashed them away for later.
˖ ࣪꒰ BIKERJO ꒱ ˙˖ stirred the next morning to you shuffling out of his arms. he tried to pull you in, kiss your head, but you were up and frantic. he cracked an eye open, watching as you shuffled out of bed and searched for your clothes. you looked almost panicked. he couldn't help but grin at the sight of your nude body prancing around his room, littered in all the marks he'd given you.
he propped his head onto one of his hands, brow arched and grin audacious. “something wrong, babydoll?”
oh, there's that glare he loved. only now you looked utterly embarrassed. flushed face and glossy eyes as you clumsily pulled on your clothes.
“shut up.” you mumbled, but made the mistake of looking in the mirror. you saw it. hickies spelling out his name. the night crashed back into you.
right. you thought the twins were one fucking person.
satoshi could only grin. tilting his head and pouting. as if he felt sorry for you.
“awww baby, embarrassed? 's okay. it was cute.” he sat up, raking his eyes that grew progressively darker down your wrecked frame.
“just a reminder. that it wasn't toru fucking that sweet cunt. toshi bruised those pretty thighs up, kay?”
he snickered as you tossed a pillow at him. still called you babydoll as you called him creep.
˖ ࣪꒰ NERDJO ꒱ ˙˖ texted his brother the same day.
“the fuck did you dip to? could have told me.”
he nearly broke his phone at the reply.
“sorry. your little rival was all over me. had to take care of her.”
satoru stared at his phone. telling himself it was fine. that he shouldn't be mad. he didn't feel a fucking thing for you— why should he care?
maybe because satoshi always got the girls.
maybe because he hated him.
he shoved his phone into his pocket. got up and went to class. you weren't looking at him. guilt riddled in your stare that remained forward.
fucking. great. of course you were just like every other girl on this campus.
he was in a mood all day. avoided his brother like he always did and kept to himself. all he wanted was to get to his dorm, kick off his shoes, study, maybe read some manga, play on his switch.
so imagine his surprise when he found a crumpled pair of cum-filled panties strewn over his bed and heard the familiar engine rev from outside his window?
it didn't take a genius to know whose those were.
his hands trembled. glasses fogged and slipped down his nose. red swarmed his vision.
satoru didn't quite know how to throw a punch, but he's never wanted to break his brother's jaw more.
