Welcome to Goonio, babyyyyyy
(Yes, it’s Goon + Junio and I’m very proud of that, the bonus of speaking spanish now and also cause its pride month so i need to rep my people a bit??)
All month long I’m posting short, nasty, queer jjk flash fics and blurbs (mostly around 500 words, i'll try my best here). Heavy on smut, vibes, and depravity. Expect lots of Itafushi, Satosugu, MakiNobara, and whatever else makes me feral that day. There are also several SEVERAL crackships I plan so if you wanna see something crazy, i will probably do it LMAO.
What else to expect this month:
Risky/public & semi-public sex
teasing
Edging & gooning (hehe)
Praise + degradation
power bottoms being power bottom-y?
And a lot more… (which is code for stuff i like but i can't remember rn)
This is very much an 18+ only zone. MDNI. And also, art credits to pinterest obvi
Day 1: Movie Night (read below for spicy Itafushi)
The weekly movie night at the dorm involved a big screen, the dark, too much beer and a bunch of kids in the same department at university staying up all night watching a horror movie. Or worse if it was something Panda had picked. This time it was just another slasher that Yuji had entirely memorised was playing in the background.
Nobara was draped over Maki, who had half buried her face against Yuta’s chest. And Toge was quite literally sitting crosslegged on top of Panda, who was snoring away into oblivion and leaving a puddle of drool under him. Which somehow didn’t bother anybody at all.
And finally, the light of his life, and his beloved boyfriend, Megumi on his lap. He was nestled comfortable against Yuji’s chest, half hard and leaking under the blanket that was loosely draped over them. Quiet enough that the others who were still awake were more focused on the movie than the fact that the blanket would shift slightly every few seconds from where Yuji’s warm palm was slowly stroking Megumi’s rapidly hardening cock. His breathing was growing uneven, hiding a smile, Yuji pressed what he assumed was a reassuring kiss to Megumi’s neck.
Apparently it was not, given the death stare that was levelled at him, despite the dark flush spreading across his cheeks and neck, visible to him even in the flickering dull lights from the screen.
“You’re such a good boy for me, ‘Gumi. Letting me touch you during movie night. Can i make you cum? Lemme make you cum. Pretty please?” He mumbled against his shoulder as the female lead on the screen started screaming and running away from her assailant.
Megumi twitched in his hand, his lips pursed up tight as if he didn’t trust himself to not moan. Which Yuji figured that he probably didn’t. One of his favorite things about his boyfriend was how beautifully vocal he was in bed. With his soft moans and whimpers. And the begging.
The mere thought of it was enough to get him hard. He gripped Megumi’s hip with his free hand, shifting him slightly so that his cock was nestled comfortably against his ass. “You make me so hard, pretty baby. See what you do to me? If it was just us, I would’ve had you ride me till you cried, baby.” He murmured, kissing the shell of his ear and feeling him tense up on top of him.
He tightened his grip just a little, stroking with more purpose while his other hand snuck under Megumi’s hoodie to rub slow circles over his stomach. Megumi’s thighs tensed, toes curling under the blanket.
The movie’s soundtrack swelled. Someone was getting brutally murdered.
Perfect cover.
Yuji felt the exact moment Megumi started falling apart — the way his cock throbbed hard in his palm, the tiny, broken sound he tried to choke back. The sound disappearing into the screams emanating from the tv.
“Come on, pretty baby,” Yuji coaxed, lips brushing his ear. “Cum for me. No one will know.”
Megumi’s whole body went rigid. His head dropped forward as he came with a silent, shaking gasp, spilling hot over Yuji’s fingers in thick pulses. He kept stroking him through it, slow and gentle, milking every last drop while Megumi trembled and clenched his jaw so hard it looked painful. It probably was, Yuji guessed, pressing an absentminded kiss to his temple.
When Megumi finally sagged back against his chest, boneless and breathless, Yuji kissed his nose and whispered, voice full of affection, “Good boy… my perfect Megumi.”
He carefully pulled his hand out, licking a stripe up his messy fingers while Megumi watched with hazy, horrified eyes. Yuji just grinned, bright and shameless. “Next movie night… I’m fingering you.”
Megumi was definitely going to kill him later.
Totally worth it.
Drop your favorite ships or kinks and I might write them 👀
pairing: sugar-mommy!reader x sugar-baby!toji
summary: toji realises just how much of a freak his new sugar mommy is, technically they both do
warnings: questionable use of insane amounts of money, blood?, implied blood swallowing?, weird kinky things that have no respect? this is so unserious and there is nothing explicit happening here so dw
a/n: 《wc: 1,001》 lmao, as always, this is raw, and dared? challenged? requested? by the lovely @liliklei
"Boy, I will bite your face off."
The comment only gets a bored eyebrow raise in response. "You wouldn't dare."
"You really want to try me?"
Toji, the "boy" in question, finally turns to look at you, properly, judgement clearly written on his face. "You're half my size. It'll be a miracle if you could even reach my face."
You gave him a dirty look from where you were perched on his lap, your back firmly pressed against his front and his broad, strong arms wrapped around your waist. His eyes flick back to the races, keeping an eye out for his horse. Trailing a finger down his cheek, you lean in to murmur in his ear. "Toji..."
He looks at you warily, probably more wary than he had been when he'd been surfing the dark web to look for someone to "provide" for his "needs". And then he'd seen you. Young, obnoxiously rich, smart, classy, and beautiful. Not to mention human. So, very, very human.
"What d'ya want?"
You mutter something obscene under your breath, fully aware that he could hear you before speaking properly. "Let me pick the next ones. I think I know how to choose the horses."
"Isn't this your first time at the races? How about you don't worry that pretty head of yours?"
You let out a long suffering sigh, absentmindedly flicking open the collar of his shirt. Something silk that he definitely never would've got for himself when you'd first met. Maybe your excellent taste was finally rubbing off on him.
"How about we make a bet then?"
His ears immediately perk up at that. Hook, line and sinker. He was so easy sometimes. "What's the bet?"
"You let me pick the next horses. And you can pick whatever you want. We bet against each other, essentially. And then if I win, you shut your pretty mouth when we go play blackjack tonight and be my arm candy. But... If you win. And that is a small small chance that you do..." You trail off, shrugging slightly, letting him finish.
"I get to do whatever I want?" He guesses.
"Anything you want." You promise. "You won't win but yes. Anything you want."
He hums, thinking about it and running his tongue over his fangs absentmindedly. He was a vampire of course. A terrible one at that but a vampire nonetheless. "Let me drink from your thigh."
"You don't need to win a bet for that to happen you know that, don't you?"
"In public."
You tut disapprovingly. "Freak. But sure."
He grins. The little shit has the nerve to actually grin. All teeth and bad decisions, like he’s already picturing it — like he’s already won.
You almost feel bad for him.
Almost.
“You’re gonna regret this,” he says, settling back like he owns the outcome already, his hand absentmindedly brushing your ribs as he pulls you back with him.
You don’t even look at him, not bothering to hide your confidence. “I never do.”
**~~
“This is bullshit.”
You don’t even pretend to not smile.
The crowd erupts around you, cheers rising as your horse clears the final stretch clean, effortless, first by a margin that’s honestly a little embarrassing.
You hum, pleased, watching the finish line like you personally arranged it.
Beside you, Toji looks like he’s been personally wronged by the concept of probability. “That horse was shit,” he mutters.
“Was,” you agree lightly. "Two rounds ago and you'd be right."
He clicks his tongue, jaw tight, eyes still fixed on the track like staring hard enough might reverse time. “You cheated.”
You finally turn in his lap, shifting just enough to face him fully, one arm draping lazily over his shoulder and curling your fingers into his soft hair at his nape. “Did I?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
He pauses. Because he has absolutely nothing. “…You just did.”
You beam. God, you’re insufferable. “I believe,” you say sweetly, leaning in just enough for your voice to drop, “you owe me something.”
He scoffs immediately. “Yeah? And I believe your horse got lucky.”
“Mm,” you hum. “Say that again tonight when you’re holding my chips.”
His eye twitches. “You’re being annoying,” he says flatly.
“You’re being a salty little broke ass,” you shoot back without missing a beat.
“…Low blow.”
You smile, all teeth. “You chose this life. You want me, please. Don't be so delulu, 'Ji.”
He shifts under you, grip tightening briefly at your waist — not enough to move you, just enough to remind you he could, as easy as breathing. “You’re enjoying this too much.”
“I’m enjoying it exactly the right amount.” You tilt your head, studying him like something you’ve already bought and are now deciding how to use. And technically, that was exactly the relationship you both shared. “Go on,” you add lightly. “Say it.”
He narrows his eyes. “Say what?”
“That I was right.”
“Fuck no."
You sigh, long-suffering, dramatic. “This is why you lose.”
“Because I don’t kiss your ass?”
“Because you don’t listen to me.” You reach up, thumb brushing just under his eye, like you’re checking for something. “Terrible habit.”
He swats your hand away, halfheartedly, he was rough usually but always so gentle with you.
Whipped.
He was so pussy-whipped that it wasn't even funny.
“Whatever,” he mutters, looking back toward the track again, arms crossing like he’s done with the conversation.
You lean in, lips brushing just shy of his ear—not quite touching.
“Don’t sulk,” you murmur.
“I’m not sulking.”
“Don't pout then.”
He splutters, indignant. “I’m not POUTING, fuck you.”
“You are,” you repeat, softer now, pleased. “It’s cute.”
He goes still. “Don’t call me cute.” He mutters.
You pull back just enough to look at him, eyes bright with something dangerously close to delight.
“Fine,” you concede. “Pretty, then.”
He glares at you like you just killed his horse.
And you laugh. Light, careless, entirely too satisfied, shifting back against him like you’ve won more than just a bet.
summary. hehe. y/n is an office worker who gets thrown into her favorite otome game world of JJK. Chaos ensues in her hunt for her fave Toji Fushiguro. Only problem: He is not her biggest fan
warnings. Toji is just too hot for his own good
a/n: my entry for our lord and savior @lilikei 《wc: 1.3k》
You definitely were not supposed to be there.
And you more than definitely were not supposed to be outside your rooms in the middle of the night, creeping around the estate like some sort of thief.
Even if the estate was “your father’s.”
** ~~
It had all started three months ago, when after spending the night drinking away at some office party, you’d stumbled back into the tiny apartment you owned in the middle of Shibuya. You’d been lucky to find it, but the rent every month made you want to personally pick a fight with the entire housing industry.
You’d only managed to kick off your sensible flats at the door, face planting into the small hall opening up into your place, when your PC had lit up with a notification.
Special Event: JJK Verse
Forgetting the fact that you were barely functioning and had the coordination of a newborn, you’d settled in your chair, starting up your favorite otome game. Half-lidded eyes fixed only on the dark-haired presence in the small corner of the banner of the screen.
Toji Fushiguro
You squealed, resisting the urge to wrap your arms around the bulky screen in your need to hug him and maybe get a close-up of his beautiful, perfect, 2D face. Like you could burn it into your mind.
** ~~
You barely remembered the Special Event because you’d woken up the next day, in a bed far, far bigger than one that could fit inside your apartment. Outstretched, your fingertips barely brushed the edges of the bed.
It had taken you a hot minute to get your bearings. And you’d completely forgotten that you were supposed to be the villainess.
That had created problems.
To a certain degree.
Namely, in the form of the devastatingly handsome head of staff, Toji Fushiguro. With his thin-rimmed silver glasses, dark green eyes, and a jawline sharp enough to cut someone. And that adorable furrow between two perfectly shaped eyebrows. And that annoyingly perfect look of disapproval when his lips pursed everytime you opened your mouth.
An embarrassing number of dishes had been broken in his presence. You couldn’t help yourself! When your fave is living and breathing and sharing the same building as you, were you supposed to keep it calm?
Absolutely the fuck not.
You were supposed to throw yourself at him, have him knock you up, and get married. Not necessarily in that order.
Unfortunately, your current reality had other plans.
Chief among them: Toji Fushiguro did not like you.
At all.
He tolerated you. Barely.
Which, to be fair, was already a significant upgrade from what the original villainess had going for her.
But ideally, it would be a little less… clinical.
Less: “My lady, refrain from interfering with staff duties.”
And a little more: “My lady, I would die for you.”
** ~~
Too bad these things took time. Which, unfortunately, was not on your side. Leaning into your role as a villainess came with its own perks, but that also meant there was a price on your head in the form of an executioner, but that was not the point.
You were omnipotent in this world.
Which was why you were in the library, examining documents you had no business to, settled comfortably in Toji’s chair. Pretending that you couldn’t smell the sweetness of pine and the spice of whatever he used in the bath.
“You’re not supposed to be here.” Came a familiar, clipped voice.
You immediately perked up, an expression of pure innocence on your face. “Pardon me?”
“Get out of my office.” He muttered, finally stepping into the light, his usual dark gray coat nowhere to be seen and his black shirt rolled up to his sleeves, his collar more open than it was usually, giving you a sneak peek into his smooth sunkissed skin. His hair was slightly messy, sticking up in all directions. Kind of like a sea urchin. You were sure it was as soft as it looked. And those glasses. You swooned. Those glasses were slightly crooked on his nose, and all you wanted to do was run your fingers over his cheeks and fix them. Maybe kiss him once or twice while you were at it.
You were drooling.
Swallowing, you wiped your mouth, clearing your throat. “You do realize that you work for me, right?”
“I work for your father.” He corrects you.
“And I could have you punished for your tone.” You object, half wondering how long it would take for him to snap and shake some sense into you.
“Try me.” He says easily, sitting down at the edge of his desk and looking down at you, taking the papers from your hands. “What are you going to do, my lady?”
A shiver goes down your spine at his words. He didn’t mean it like that, did he?
“I can think of several things.” You say carefully, fingers inching closer to his thigh as you lean in towards him.
His eyes drift down to your mouth before back up to your eyes, clearly unimpressed. “Look, I have no clue what has… Afflicted you these past few months.”
You shrug. “Maybe I’ve started being more honest with myself.”
He literally snorts at that, not believing your words for a moment. “Right.”
“It would be ideal if you would start to court me.”
“...The fuck?”
“I believe that comes after successful courtship.” You say blandly, hiding a smile.
He stares at you like you’ve just grown three heads. Like trying to figure out whether you have indeed lost your mind or if this is another one of your extremely inconvenient choices. Choices that would have him bear the consequence. “This is a ridiculous joke. Move your hand.”
You slide your hand closer, just enough to feel the heat radiating from his thigh. “It’s really not a joke. I’m serious.”
“You’ve lost your mind.” His eyes find your hand, but he doesn’t make a move to push it away, to put distance between you both. And you were taking it as a win.
“Only in my love for you.”
“There’s something very wrong with you.”
“Absolutely. These are the feelings of someone in love.”
He continues to stare at you, like he can’t tell if he’s dreaming or if this is an elaborate prank to get him fired.
Well, you wouldn’t mind getting him fired if it meant he would be in your care? Your debt? Something. He would definitely be more in your orbit than he was now. You were a villainess after all. You had to get your hands dirty. Besides, you were more than happy to be the provider in this relationship.
“You’re the one who told me to try.” You point out, looking up at him through your lashes, pretending you didn’t know that your robe had slipped open a little too much.
He had a lot of self-control. It would be impressive if it didn’t make you want to scream. His gaze stayed fixated on yours. “Go sleep, my lady.” He says, finally, standing up and turning away, his voice only slightly softer than before. “And try not to wander too much at night.”
You smirked, clearly pleased at winning this round, as you stood as well, deliberately keeping within a hand’s distance of him.. “Try not to think about me too much, Toji.”
The use of his name was casual, intentional.
You heard a soft exhale, your smile only widening as you walk to the door.
“Wait.”
You turned around, eyes wide and mouth slightly agape, like you’d not expected this at all.
“Fix your damn clothes.” He mutters, looking away and pretending to busy himself with some papers.
You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head before you adjust your robe, quietly leaving his office.
pairing. prince! satoru x bodyguard!suguru x villainess!reader
summary. heh. satosugu established relationship where reader shows up and turns out to be responsible for bad things
warnings. Mentions of blood and violence (very slight), angst, hurt no comfort, implied sexy times at the start, no happy ending lol, is very open and unedited
a/n: my other entry for our lord and savior @lilikei 《wc: 1175》
“Satoru.” Suguru almost purred from where he was half-buried in the blankets in bed, his dark spilling behind him and stark against the pale sheets, the moonlight glossing over his bare form.
Satoru turned from where he was hunched over his table, reading some extremely ridiculous proposal, eyes softening as he looked at his boyfriend-bodyguard waiting patiently for him in his bed. “I’m not feeling very protected right now.” He drawled.
“Come here, and I’ll protect you.” He drawls, shifting slightly and blanket slipping lower, revealing his toned chest.
“You’re trying to seduce me,” Satoru says accusingly, not the least bit bothered as he gets up, pleased to have an excuse to leave the work behind. He makes his way to the bed, joining Suguru there and straddling him.
Suguru looks at him, amused, hands resting on the backs of his thighs, rubbing absentminded circles there. “I am definitely not trying. Because it's working, isn’t it, my prince?”
“It’s working.” He agrees, leaning down and capturing his lips in a warm, open-mouthed kiss. “It’s definitely working.” He murmurs against his mouth as he kisses him again. Suguru let out a quiet laugh against his mouth, like the world outside the bed didn’t exist at all.
“Careful,” Satoru murmured, pulling back just enough to speak, his breath warm. “If you keep talking like that, I might actually believe you’re good at your job.”
Suguru hummed, thumbs still tracing slow, absent patterns against Satoru’s thighs. “I am extremely good at my job,” he said softly. “That’s why you’re still alive.”
Satoru tilted his head, pretending to consider this with exaggerated seriousness. “Bold claim for someone currently pinned under their prince.”
Suguru’s smile widened slightly, his violet eyes flickering in amusement. “Is that what this is? I’m pinned?”
Satoru leaned in again, pressing another kiss to him, slower this time, unhurried, like they had all the time in the world to taste each other. “Mm,” he hums. “Looks like it.”
For a moment, everything softened again. The blankets. The moonlight. The quiet. The warmth between them that didn’t need explanation.
Suguru’s hand shifted higher on Satoru’s thigh, reaching up to tug off his vest, fingers splayed across his waist.
And then the air changed. Like the world had missed a step.
Satoru paused mid-breath.
Suguru’s fingers stilled. “…Satoru,” Suguru said quietly.
But he didn’t finish.
Because the window didn’t open. It split in half like a crystal glass suspended in time, just as it was about to shatter.
A sharp fracture in space itself, as if something had forced its way through the wrong layer of reality.
Satoru moved instantly, too fast for anything human to follow, but Suguru moved faster.
Always Suguru. Reliable Suguru.
He pushed up, body turning, instinct placing himself between Satoru and the incoming blade before thought could interfere.
“Suguru—!”
The knife didn’t hesitate as it found its place in the middle of his chest. Clean. Precise.
The sound that followed didn’t belong in a room like this.
Not in a bed like this.
Not between them.
Suguru froze. Then blinked once slowly. “…Oh.” His voice came out softer than it should have, faint, as if he was surprised.
Satoru caught him immediately, hands snapping to his shoulders, pulling him upright as if that alone could undo what had already happened. “Hey, hey, look at me,” Satoru said, too fast now, smile gone completely from his voice. “Suguru, don’t you— don’t you dare—”
Suguru exhaled faintly, as if he were trying to laugh but had forgotten how to halfway. “That’s… new,” he murmured. “I wasn’t thinking I’d be getting impaled tonight, but here we are.”
Then his weight shifted, just leaning into Satoru like it was the most natural thing in the world.
The door should have opened. Guards should have arrived.
Something should have reacted. But instead, the world added another mistake.
You.
You appeared mid-step, like you had been dropped into the wrong frame of existence.
One second, nothing. The next moment, you were there.
Standing at the edge of the bed. Breathing too fast. Dressed awkwardly in finery that you didn’t know how to wear. Eyes locked on the scene in front of you.
The blood.
The blade.
Suguru in Satoru’s arms.
And Satoru himself, still holding him, like letting go wasn’t an option the world had given him.
Your voice came out broken immediately. “I—wait— I didn’t— I don’t—”
Satoru looked at you. The softness from mere moments ago was gone so completely it was almost terrifying.
Suguru, still half-supported against him, turned his head slowly.
His eyes met yours. Not anger or resentment. Confusion. Just the quiet, exhausted kind of wondering you get when something impossible insists on existing. “…That’s not her,” Suguru murmured.
Satoru didn’t answer. His grip tightened instead. On Suguru. Like he was going to hold him together, put him back in one piece like the knife had never interrupted them.
You took a step back without meaning to. “I didn’t do that,” you said quickly. “I just— I just got here. I don’t know what’s happening. I don’t… I don’t know where I am. Please. You have to believe me.”
Suguru’s breathing was shallow now, but steady in that infuriating way only trained bodies managed to be. His gaze flicked between you and Satoru once. Then back to you. “…You’re in the palace,” he said quietly.
There’s a heavy silence for a long moment, your hands shaking where they were folded in front of you. Then, softer, Suguru speaks again: “And someone just tried to kill him.”
Your throat tightened. “Not— I didn’t— I’m not—” This was getting ridiculous. You had never struggled for words, but now you were at a complete loss as to what or how you could defend yourself.
Satoru finally spoke, his voice flat. Cold. Indifferent. “Then why are you here?”
That made everything worse. Because there was no answer that made sense in a world that had already broken.
Suguru shifted slightly again in Satoru’s arms. A small wince. Still trying to stay present. Still trying to stay awake and coherent. “Satoru,” he said gently, like he always did when Satoru started to slip into something too sharp. “Don’t.”
Satoru didn’t look away from you, his electric blue eyes cold and assessing, his voice lowered. “I won’t let him die,” he said. It didn’t sound like a promise. It sounded like a decision. As if he’d decided that Suguru would not be doing anything that Satoru didn’t want him to.
And in that moment, you understood, very clearly, that you had not arrived in the middle of a romance scene. Even if you knew that it had ended with a shiny ring for Suguru and a notice of abdication for the current king.
You had arrived in the middle of something that had just become irreversible. Something that you were responsible for.
And the weight of those two was on your shoulders. If only you could figure out how your favorite otome game was about to become a murder mystery.
The worst part is: he still knows how he takes his coffee.
_________________________________________________
He stared blankly at the table in front of him, barely aware of the looks on him and how the entire cafe around them had gone quiet. His girlfriend, well, clearly now ex-girlfriend, was glaring at him, livid, and her hand tightly clutching an empty glass of coffee; the contents of which were now running down his head and dripping into his eyes.
He didn’t answer, letting her rant and complain and call him a pathetic boyfriend before she got up in a huff and left the place, leaving him alone at their table, his affogato melting in front of his eyes.
He watched the coffee spread over the light denim of his jeans, staining them a dull brown. Her long-gone words were burning holes in his chest and making him feel nauseous at the sheer depravity of the situation.
It was supposed to be their three-month anniversary, and he was supposed to have planned something romantic, which he didn’t mind at all, but somehow he’d managed to fuck it all up by recreating his last date with his ex-boyfriend. It had started normally enough, but he’d forgotten what her favorite flowers were and had gotten her daisies. Which he might have mentioned his ex-boyfriend used to like. And then he’d gotten her to their old cafe and out of habit he’d ordered his ex’s usual iced americano instead of her macchiato. And the fact that she’d only thrown the americano in his face after it had arrived at their table was more a testament to her character than his.
And the worst part of it was that he couldn’t even fault her for it.
Then, as if the universe was playing a colossal joke on him, HE appeared. Clinging to the arm of a tall, dark, and handsome man and smiling up at him so sweetly as he ordered their coffee. It was enough for him to fall into a tailspin because he used to look at him the same way, and now he was looking at someone new.
Another wave of nausea rolled over him as he watched both of them smile and talk to each other at the counter. Unable to help himself, his chair scraped jarringly loud against the floor as he stood up, almost running to the exit to catch his breath.
Inhaling the warm evening air, he looked up at the sky, not even realising that he was crossing the road to get home.
And then he never made it back, but only catching glimpses of the one man he’d ever truly loved as he stared up at the sky as it faded.
Her breath caught in her throat. The familiar broad shoulders and narrow hips. His ruffled hair, a bit longer and messier than she remembered. And she definitely did not remember the silver hoop cuffed around his left helix.
The music was too loud and the people were too many. She stumbled back slightly, almost walking into a wall as she took in his figure, wearing HER hoodie like a crop top. The surprise grew into longing and then into irritation at the fact that she’d spent weeks looking for it, only to find herself at a party with him wearing her favorite hoodie like he owned it.
She stared at him a while longer, watching him smile and laugh, each movement like a punch to the gut. And then she let herself get carried away, knowing full well she should avoid him, even as she put one foot in front of the other, purposefully walking up to him. Her fingers curled around his bicep, almost instinctively reaching for him like they had just separated to say hi to their friends.
He half turned around at the contact, eyes widening before his expression shuttered slightly, not having expected her. “I can’t believe you stole my hoodie.” She almost blurts out, before internally scolding herself. His mouth twitches up in half a grin, half a grimace. “Technically, you never took it with you.”
She rolls her eyes, dropping her hand from his bicep as if he’d burned her. “Still the same as ever.”
“Wasn’t that what you liked about me?”
“That was a long time ago.”
“Yet, here you are. Asking for your hoodie.” He reaches out, curling his hand in her jacket to pull her close to him.
She raises an eyebrow at him. “Really?”
He shrugs slightly, the same annoyingly infuriating smile she fell in love with on his face. “If you want it, you can take it off.”
Her eyes drop down to the hoodie, too tight on him from the shoulders and too loose for his waist, catching a peek of his mid-riff and a new tattoo on his lower ribs. Her eyes meet his again, asking him about the ink.
“I missed you.” He says, as if it were the sweetest confession in the world.
“Is that the reason you got another piercing too?”
“It felt weird not having you around to bite my ear when you…” He trails off, his tone slightly mischievous.
Her heart flutters at his words, but she ends up rolling her eyes at him, half-exasperated. “You’re ridiculous.”
“And you still say it the same way you did when you loved me.”
“Who said I stopped?” Her hand finds the ink, feeling his muscles shift under her touch, and watching his pupils dilate as she leans in closer to him.
“Now, why would you say that?”
She shrugs slightly, gently rubbing her thumb over the edge of his tattoo. “What’s her name?”
He feels almost lightheaded at her proximity. “I don’t remember.”
She smirks, despite herself, as she gently kisses his collarbone. “Good.”
“Don’t disappear.”
“I never did.”
His fingers curl tighter in her jacket. “You always were so cruel.”
She shrugs then, gently grazing his neck with her teeth and playing with the string of her hoodie. “You always brought it out.” She kisses him there once. “Don’t wait up this time.”
He calls her when he’s drunk, and she answers every time.
_________________________________________________
“I told you I can’t carry you around, genius.” She huffs, shifting uncomfortably under his weight as she half-dragged - half-carried him to her apartment. “You’re too big and heavy.”
He mumbles something in response, his head rolling against hers and gently butting her hair with his nose. “But you’re doing such a good job.” He mumbles, eyes closed and completely trusting her to take care of him. “And you smell so good.”
She feels a shiver go down her spine at his words and tilts her head to give him a look. “Quiet. Behave.”
“Make me, darling.”
She drops him then, stopping in front of her door and giving him a withering look. “I’m doing this ONLY because I would feel terrible if you got mugged on your way back home. Don’t make me regret it.”
He blinks up at her, half sleepy and half amused. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll be a good boy.”
“This is the third time this week.” She mutters, unlocking the door and pushing it open.
“I had a rough week.” He says quietly, looking down at the floor and playing with his fingers.
“I’m not your girlfriend anymore.”
“I know.”
“We’re not supposed to be talking to each other.”
“I know.”
“You can’t call me every time you’re drunk.”
“You’re all I think about.”
“You need to move on.”
“I could move on with you.”
She rolls her eyes, smacking his shoulder and holding her hands out for him to take to help him up. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
He stares up at her hands for a moment before taking them both, and instead of helping himself up, he pulls her down on top of him. “I’m serious.” He murmurs, curling his fingers in her hair before cupping her face. “I’m so fucking serious, baby.”
“Don’t do it.”
“I can’t stop.”
“... You need to. You’re drunk. Again.”
“And you’re home alone.” He murmurs, leaning in, pressing light kisses to her cheek, slowly kissing down her jaw and neck, dragging his hand down her back, and pulling her closer. “I love you.”
She doesn’t answer, half feeling herself tear up even as she tilts her head back for him, her heart almost beating out of her chest. “Stop it.” She finally manages to say.
He doesn’t listen. And then they end up in her bed with her face buried in his chest and fingers curled in his hair. The weight of his shiny new ring heavy on her hip, and their bare legs tangled together under the sheets.
He shows up on the rooftop a year later — same time, same sky, different person
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He falls back against the ground, his wings flared behind him, rustling softly in the wind, and watching her lean too close to the edge.
“I won’t fall,” she says, not looking back at him but down the building, forty stories high. “I just want to see how long I can do this without feeling sick.”
He lets out a low, rumbly laugh. “Sounds like a toxic relationship.”
The corner of her mouth curves up, and he feels his long still heart flutter slightly at her expression. “Now that won’t be entirely untrue.”
“I’ll catch you if you fall.”
“Who caught you?”
“Nobody.”
“Why not?”
“Angels are solitary creatures.” His hand finds her hair, absentmindedly curling his fingers through the strands. “Explains why I fell.”
“What does that make you now?” She finally looks at him, raising an eyebrow at him, all cat eyes and warmth.
He tugs her closer, pulling her leg over his and lightly brushing his mouth against hers.
3 times he says her name, and the 1 time she does.
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It started when he had her bent over in the kitchen, almost deliriously watching her clench around his dick as she came again, letting out soft whimpers of his name. He gave her hip a gentle squeeze, lightly brushing her clit with knuckles and making her squirm as she pressed herself further against the counter, back arched so beautifully that he could’ve sworn she was made for testing his control. Her name had just left his lips when the wine glasses from dinner shattered where they stood on the table, snapping them both out of their post sex haze.
**
The next time it happened, he had her trapped between his arms and the door, her leg draped over his shoulder and his palm pressed firmly against her clit, slowly curling three fingers inside her and making her cry his name, begging for more. Her dress was bunched up around her waist, and he was still fully clothed, focused on making her ride his fingers and stain his pants with her cum. He met her eyes, getting caught off guard at the intensity and letting out a soft exhale of her name and flinching just as the window behind them exploded. He shielded her with his body, holding her close as they both stared at each other in shock.
**
At this point, they were getting used to it. Which was why, when he was on his knees and eating her out in the shower with her hands tightly fisted in his hair and warm water running down her bare skin, neither of them blinked when he moaned her name and the mirror above the sink cracked into pieces.
**
He looked up at her, eyes half-lidded and fingers rubbing lazy circles over her nipples as she braced her hands against his chest, slowly and sinfully moving her hips in the most tempting of ways. He let out a soft sigh of pleasure, dropping his hands to her waist to hold her steady and carefully thrusting up into her, making her grind against him. Her head tipped back in pleasure as she rode the high he was giving her and creaming around his dick. Unable to help himself, he gave her ass a tight squeeze, making her cry out his name as she came all over him, soaking the sheets under them and shattering the glass door of their closet.
A storm god waits on the cliff’s edge every time she cries into the ocean.
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He watched her from one edge of the cliff to another, looking impossibly small as sobs racked her body. The foam from the ocean traced the rock edges before folding back into where they’d come from.
It was like clockwork; the sun would start to set, and she would appear, tired from the weight of the world on her shoulders. She would weep into the ground, her tears soothing the cracks in the earth and watering the flowers. And he would silently watch, unable to do anything but.
Though seasons shifted, he never moved from his place, as if made of stone. It would rain harder on days she lingered longer near the shrine of the storm god, as if it, too, was embracing her and her grief.
He watched patiently when she leaned closer to him, resting her head against the cool stone, eyes red but dry for once. “How long will it take for you to heal me?”
He didn’t answer, unable to speak, and cursed to listen.
“Why won’t you heal me?”
Only the deafening roar of the ocean below was her answer.
“Am I not worthy?”
“Your silence means nothing to me.”
“Answer me, storm god.”
He doesn’t even look at her, as if unable to, listening to her frustrated ramblings and the water below them.
“Do you want me to survive?”
Silence.
“If you do, give me a sign.”
The sky crackled with electricity, sharp and beautiful. His dark silhouette glowed momentarily near the edge before fading, as if saying the storm would catch her if she wanted to fall.
And then, she did. Right into the arms of the god who had been waiting to embrace her.
She was the kind of sin he hadn’t planned to survive.
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His lungs felt like they were on fire. Like he couldn’t breathe. He let out a shaky breath, forehead dropping down to hers, closing his eyes as he grew far too aware of her cold hands on his shoulders and the sweat chilling his spine. “I can’t.” He finally managed to say, his voice cracking as the dull ache from the bruises she’d left on his neck and chest began to set in.
“You can and you will.” Her reply was even, measured. “Look at me.”
He forced his eyes to open, taking in her sharp features and the delicate smile lines around her lips and eyes.
“You’re going to be a good boy and come for me, aren’t you?” She murmured, dragging her hands down to his waist, almost teasingly touching him where they were connected.
“My love, I… I… please. I can’t.” He feels his cheeks grow damp, surprising himself.
“Darling.”
“Please.” His chest heaves, the noose around his heart tightening uncomfortably.
“You’ll feel better when you cum.” She promises, her words sweet and her tone even sweeter. “Move, darling.” She whispers in his ear, her warm breath caressing his sensitive skin as she tangles a hand in his hair to pull him closer, her soft walls gently fluttering around his still hard length.
He lets out a soft groan, unable to help himself. “I don’t want to hurt you, my love.”
You meet the devil at a bar and tell him your ex’s name just to see what he’ll do.
_________________________________________________
His mouth twitches slightly as the name leaves your lips. “How long has it been?”
“A few days.”
“It took you that long to decide?”
“Just because it's over doesn’t mean I’m not in love. It’s just painful.”
“And you thought talking to the devil would help?”
You shrug, your shoulder arching gracefully. “I don’t think anything is helping.”
He watches you for a moment, gaze unblinking and intense; intense enough for your eyes to drop to his neatly folded hands in his lap, the contrast between his clothes and his skin stark enough to be jarring.
“I’ll take care of it.”
Your ears perk up at his words, finally looking up at him through your lashes. “And what is my price?”
He tilts his head slightly, picking up his glass, almost empty of the amber liquid he’d been drinking earlier. “That would be for me to know and you to learn.”
“I didn’t think I’d be making any blind deals with the devil.”
“Well, sweetheart, you get what you signed up for.”
“Which is…?”
He looks amused then, noticing how your pupils were dilating and your heartbeat was picking up. “Why don’t you kiss me and find out?”
You hesitate. The devil was attractive and tempting and seductive, but were you really about to get into bed with him? Your thoughts drift back to the one who’d left you in tears less than a week ago. Nobody could be worse than that.
You take in a sharp breath just as you press your lips to his, before you could lose your nerve and change your mind. You taste the smoke and cherries on his tongue, and for a moment, you think, this is what heaven feels like.
He pulls away then, his free hand on your hip, a dangerous smile, all sharp teeth, spreading on his kiss-swollen lips. “Welcome to hell, darling.”
A fallen angel and a mortal girl sit on a rooftop talking about the people they’ve lost.
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“How long does it hurt?”
“Could be anywhere from a few hours to your whole life.”
“Sounds rough.”
“It usually is.”
His wings flutter behind him, and she shifts closer to him, legs dangling over the edge of the building where they were perched, watching the hazy violets of the night.
“I didn’t think angels were warm.”
“I didn’t think humans were indecisive.”
“...Touche.”
She quiets for a bit, only the sound of his wings and her uneven breathing keeping them company.
“Did it hurt the first time?” She asks, tilting her head and watching him stiffen slightly.
“And every time since.”
“Is that why you’re here?”
He doesn’t answer, seemingly interested in the ants trying to crawl up his jean-clad thigh before shifting and resting his chin on his knees, legs pressed against his chest. “Maybe.”
“Does it get better?”
“I hope so.” He finally looks at her, the obsidian of his eyes almost glowing in the dark. “I’m still waiting.”
