Happier Than Ever

being a ua! student with toya todoroki meant that the two of you were almost always seen with the other, and you two were always getting in trouble. whether it was for bunking class, sneaking out of the dormitory at night, making out in empty classrooms during lunch break… you guys were always in meetings with your parents and your homeroom teacher at least once a week.

your classmates were practically sick of you guys at this point. they have to deal with you and toya kissing in front of your classroom door every single morning, and they couldnt say anything about it unless they wanted to deal with toya’s anger issues first thing in the morning. however, they couldnt deny that the two of you were an adorable couple, and said that if you guys broke up, theyd “stop believing in love”.

however, the one time where you and toya didnt get along was in training. your teachers always tried to keep the two of you separated, but on the off chance that you both were paired up or on the same team, it never went well. you two were both much too stubborn and hardheaded to listen to each other, and training together often ended up in heated arguments.

usually, toya would make it up to you by buying your favourite snacks from the store and a bouquet of flowers that he knew you loved. he hated when the two of you fought, and all that he wanted by the end of the night was to be back in your arms. it more than often also ended with toya in your bed, with him either holding you gently against his chest and his hand in your hair, or the sheets getting ruined from stains from all of the snacks toya had brought for you as an apology.

meeting toya's family was an eventful experience. on one hand, his mother and younger siblings all adored you, and instantly welcomed you to the family. however, his father was much more critical and judgemental of you. he practically interrogated you, much to toya's frustration, and sent you glares all throughout dinner. the rest of the family had told you not to take enji's scepticism to heart, yet you couldnt help the saddened feeling in your chest. thankfully, or unthankfully for you, your boyfriend was extremely observant, and for the rest of your evening at the todoroki home, toya made sure to be constantly touching you in some form to remind you of how much he loved you. whether it was his hand on your thigh, head against your shoulder, his lips gently pressing against your cheek or forehead... it didnt matter. toya wanted you to feel comfortable being around his family, and he knew that his touch relaxed you. and anyway, toya loved the feeling of his skin against yours... so it was a win-win.

being a ua! student with toya were three years of constant laughter, love, occasional sadness, and overcoming hardships in both your relationship and your school work. and you wouldnt want it any other way.

© sukuyia™ — dont copy, plagiarise, repost, modify and/or translate my works

somewhere in the back of your mind, you know this isn’t how it should be. 

your living room is dimly lit, illuminated only by the tv in front of you, and the moon is glowing a pearlescent blue. flimsy strings of moonlight spill over your floorboards, reflecting off the windows, and whatever you’re doing isn’t what you should be doing. you shouldn’t be awake this late, shouldn’t be gorging on sweets before bed, shouldn’t be having a rendezvous with an enemy — shouldn’t be watching movies with your ex of ten years. 

most of all, you shouldn’t be feeling nearly this content.

getō is seated right beside you, legs comfortably spread, popping a macaron into his mouth. chewing it slowly, savouring the flavour — or lack thereof, you suppose. he can’t taste much, anymore; one too many curses digested. or so he says.

this time, he brought pastries with him. expensive ones, you can tell, just from the package alone; a soft pastel pink box, wrapped up in velvet and silk, golden letter etched into the front. mont blancs, macarons, two slices of strawberry shortcake. suited to your tastes.

(you aren’t actually too fond of sweets, anymore, but how is he to know? he hasn’t seen you in years.)

”would you like me to make us some tea?”

when you turn your gaze towards him, getō’s wearing a smile. laid-back, the slightest upward curl, tilting his head in a manner you’re far too used to, eyes shining with something keen. somehow, it feels difficult to tear your gaze away from his own.

but you manage, turning forward, grasping control over your sleepy vocal cords. ”no, i’m good.”

a low hum. he’s still looking at you. ”coffee?”

”the sweets are more than enough.”

this time, a smile, one you can’t see but still somehow sense. a little bit amused. geto gazes at you with a knowing look, watches you glance at the box of pastries on your coffee table — studying you under the monochrome flicker of the tv-screen. 

”understood,” he finally quips, leaning back into the leather couch, exhaling a little breath. ”eat as much as you’d like. i bought them for you, you know.”

you nod, nibbling at a macaron. not glancing his way.

being alone with him still feels a little awkward. a little tense, to be curled up on the same couch, watching the same movie, just like your old sleepovers in high school. there’s an elephant in the room that neither of you have addressed — not since he first showed up, just a couple weeks ago, waltzing up to your apartment with a plastic bag of dvds after a decade of estrangement. wearing heavy robes, and a familiar smile. asking to be let in.

and despite every single circumstance telling you not to, you did just that. you’ve yet to refuse. 

(satoru would hate you, if he knew.)

so he’s there, right beside you, and you don’t talk about it. not his choice, not your work, not anything except the movie playing on the screen in front of you. this time, it’s one he’s seen before; beautiful, he called it, and for once you think it might be a romance — if the kiss between the main actors is anything to go by. 

you wonder if that’s why he says it.

”say, do you hate me?”

…

it’s sudden, but not unexpected. he’s always been like this; breaking the illusion of peace before you can find any solace in it. 

you bite back a groan, and shoot him a glance out of the corner of your eye — but he isn’t looking at you. only at the tv, at the two men, holding hands and standing on a bridge in the rain, watching the stars twinkle in the sky. and you sigh, turning your head to look at him fully, parting your lips. your voice comes out frustrated. 

”do you really want to have this conversation now?”

”when else?” he chuckles, meeting your gaze with one brow raised. amber eyes gleaming with mirth, and something else, something less practiced. ”you don’t have to answer. i’m just curious.”

you gulp down the last of the macaron, licking your lips for any leftover crumbs — unaware of how his eyes follow the movement. ”are you?”

a hum buzzes in the back of his throat, a tiny rasp. you wonder if he’s tired. ”i hadn’t expected this, you know.” he taps at his knee with the pads of his fingers, rhythmic and controlled. ”i thought it was just wishful thinking… that you’d let me come this close.”

you feel his gaze on you. it’s heavy, heavy like lead, like a loaded gun. you feel it dissect you from afar, and can’t find it in you to reach for another pastry. 

”… would you have preferred being kicked out?”

”not at all.” a little grin plays at his lips, something in his voice betraying the face he’s making. ”are you avoiding the question?” 

another sigh. you’re painfully aware of how resigned it sounds, spilling out into the open air, already filling with a sense of dread; any leftover nostalgia bursting at the seams. you want to tell him so many things, but every thread inside your mind feels all tangled up.

and, as always, getō beats you to the punch. 

”that’s fine, too.” a brief pause, a twitch of his pinkie. he closes his eyes, a flutter of his lashes, and inhales a breath. ”— because i’ll keep waiting.”

for a second, you consider not taking the bait. 

… then you’re giving in. because that’s what you always do, whenever he’s involved. you watch him in the dark, pale skin enveloped by moonlight, raven hair spilling across the headrest. he looks beautiful, just resting his eyes.

”… for what?” you whisper, and his answer comes without a hitch to his breath.

”for you to love me again.”

…

getō tilts his head, opening his eyes, a golden brown dragging you into their depths. he looks expectant, selfishly awaiting a response, and you’re tired. 

(unbeknownst to you, he resists the urge to intertwine his fingers with yours, to trace every ridge and dip of your knuckles with his thumb. to squeeze your palm like a promise, something concrete.)

when your mind has managed to untangle itself, something in your gaze turns sharp. frustrated, impatient, disappointed, looking at him with a raised brow. ”you really are stupid, aren’t you?”

as fast as it came, your gaze returns to the screen in front of you. monochrome, flickering, two beautiful men. one of them is holding a gun to the other’s temple, and the victim looks appeased. the movie’s almost over.

(how very like him, to find such violence beautiful.)

quietly, you swallow down the bile building up in the back of your throat. a decade of bitter flavours. clenching your teeth, nails digging into the couch beneath you, leather on your cold fingertips. it’s a little peeled.

you wonder why you even bother being honest, when he never quite seems to return the favour.

but the room is dimly lit, and the moon is big and bright, and your ex of ten years is sitting right next to you. in your apartment, on your couch, watching a movie on your tv. when he could, should be anywhere else. he’s with you, and he pulls the words out of your throat without trying. puppeteering your heartbeat.

”… as if i ever stopped.”

silence.

you hear a gunshot ring out. low, muffled, a crackle of static. one of the men falls down to the ground, and you can’t tell who's who. the actors are forgettable, but the soundtrack is pretty. it rings in your ears like a lullaby. 

getō says your name.

it sounds the same as you remember. honeyed syllables, spilling from his parted lips, silky and sweet. he says your name like he’s asking to marry you, and you can hear the smile he’s struggling to repress.

”will you look at me?”

it’s less of a question, and more of a demand. you wonder why he even bothers asking — but you’ve never really understood the way his brain works. never understood why a burglar would bother asking the shopkeeper for permission before reaching for the register, when they’ll be leaving with the money either way. 

and you’re paralyzed, stuck in place on the couch, gaze glued to the screen in front of you. but you aren’t watching, not really, just looking. and you don’t want to see what kind of face he’s making. so you whisper;

”.. no.”

”no?” he mimics, something like a coo on the tip of his tongue, lightly amused. as always, you can feel his gaze, travelling down your face like a trickle of honey. ”and why is that, my dear?”

you bite down on your lip.

a long, long moment passes, and neither of you say a word. he’s looking at you, and you’re looking down at your lap, at your clenched fists. a little meek. it’s quiet, the calm before the storm, and you know exactly what’s going to happen — because it’s already set in stone.

”because you’re going to kiss me,” you exhale, finally, resignation on your breath. ”and i’m going to let you.”

…

for a second, you wonder if his silence means he understands. if he can hear the desperate plea in your voice, if he can translate it correctly. 

but his fingertips graze the lines of your jaw, his palm sneaks under your chin, and he keeps you in place. turning your head to meet his gaze, his amber eyes, dripping with something hungry; something pleading. 

this time, he doesn’t ask for permission. he leans forward until there’s no space between you, tips your head back, and kisses you with bated breath — as softly as he can manage, which is still too intense for your liking. still brimming with desperation, something carnal, like he wants to pour his everything into the kiss but knows he shouldn’t. he tastes like tobacco.

and it’s over. 

you know it is, because your senses are flooded with him, him, him. nothing but him, the strands of his raven hair ghosting your skin, his greedy tongue licking along your teeth, large palms resting on your spine and the back of your head. you’re pliant, surrendering yourself to his touch. he’s cradling you like he loves you, and you feel like you’ve done something awful, because you have.

because you’ve let him come so close, again, invited him inside — inside of your home, your ribcage. and he won’t bother making a home for himself there, because it’s already waiting for him, untouched, between your fourth and fifth ribs.

you never bothered to get rid of it.

(that’s your sin.)

getō hums, muffled by your lips. he sounds pleased. he sounds like he’s been waiting for this for decades, and you suppose that he has. he murmurs praise that you do nothing but swallow down.

everything feels too perfect, too normal, and it’s too much, too much, too much. your lips pressed together, your chests pressed together, your noses meeting in a tender touch. you choke down the noise that threatens to push past your lips, and he kisses you like a starved man. like he’s trying to drown in you.

he only pulls away once he realizes that you’re crying, and by then it’s too late. his widening eyes don’t matter, your cold hands don’t matter, the tremble of your erratic heartbeat has never mattered less. he looks at you with remorse, and it doesn’t matter. 

(he’s yours, again, and you’re his.

you can’t stop crying.)

”… i’m sorry.”

in the background, you hear the sound of gentle whispers, an ending scene. the men are talking to each other, speaking softly, and your eyes burn with tears. geto catches one of them with his forefinger, and leans forward to plant a kiss against your nose. chaste, this time. still mumbling apologies.

it doesn’t matter, because a tiny sob still breaks past your throat — and you know the sound must hurt him. 

you hate that. you hate that you always hurt him, hate that you care, hate that you feel nothing but guilt when he’s around. you hate the movie still playing to your left, hate that he doesn’t hate it, hate that he loves you. hate that you love him, that you probably always will.

you hate that you blink up at him with glassy eyes, swallow down a shaky breath, and kiss him again. hate that it’s still the only thing you know how to do well.

he doesn’t pull away, only biting back a noise of surprise — but he makes sure to kiss you gently, as if you’re made of porcelain, slow and tender, cradling you closer still. he wipes away your tears with his thumb, one after another, and you hate yourself because everything feels so deliriously right.

somewhere in the back of your mind, you know that what you’re playing is a losing game. 

(he’s yours, and you’re his. it’s already set in stone.) 

circles — rintarou suna.

SYNOPSIS

you've liked your twin brothers' best friend for as long as you can remember — it's unreciprocated, though. one day, you stumble onto an anonymous chat website for people who are experiencing one-sided love or attraction.

rintarou suna, chronically online, chronically bored, and chronically in love with y/n miya, finds the exact same chat site while doomscrolling twitter.

[ . . . one new friend request . . . ! ]

CONTENTS // WARNINGS // INFO

fem!reader, miya!reader, kys/kms jokes, possible ooc, late updates, crack humour, blended smau, weird groups but they're MY favourites ok MINE

miya family (+suna ig.) || y/n poopies || suna fanclub || extras

01. unrequitedlovers.org

02. the much awaited cat adoption arc

03. all hypotheticals

04.

authors note(s) !!

posting this early !! wink wink i still have some details to fix so the first chapter will be out a bit later </3 (this is the loml we're working with here so it has to be perfect..)

also someone get the y/n poopies reference please (poopynation cmon)

it's called circles bc. uh. they're stupid and keep going around in circles

taglist is open !

comment or send an ask to be tagged <33

likes n rbs r appreciated <3 thank you !

© hyenagoated 2024 all rights reserved :3

I FOUND YOU (TOO) - ongoing

Sequel fic to "I Found You"

Attack on Titan, Eren Jaeger x Reader

reincarnation au

memory loss, established relationship, undercover eren, marleyan nurse reader

Rating: 16+

cw: graphic imagery, mentioned hanging, canon typical xenophobia, internalized xenophobia

Current word count: ~16k | Tag List

CHAPTER 1: Awake

CHAPTER 2: somewhere nice

CHAPTER 3: please, please, please

CHAPTER 4: happy limbo

CHAPTER 5: peach tart

CHAPTER 6: where do you go?

CHAPTER 7: the difference between living and being alive

**this fic will eventually be posted to Ao3, the tumblr version is essentially a "rough draft" that I'm sharing here so I'll stay motivated to keep writing!

♪ 𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑦𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 ♪

༺ Work Night ༻

Oneshot ~ Tokyo Revengers x Female Reader

Summary ~ On the deadliest night of the year, you’re trapped in a flower shop, hunted by five obsessive killers. Survive the night—or become their prey.

Featuring ~ Baji Keisuke, Hanemiya Kazutora, Sanzu Haruchiyo, and the Haitani Brothers

Extra Notes ~ Jujutsu Kaisen’s Version - Blue Lock’s Version

*Reader is implied to be a foreigner at one point. No language barrier.

This story should only be posted under eempyreall on my tumblr, ao3, wattpad, and patreon. Report if you see it posted under anyone else but me.

l apologize if I get any Japanese etiquette or culture wrong, I literally have to research the culture for some of my fandom stories so if anything is wrong, please excuse my ignorance.

|| Warning ||

You and the characters are 21+. Although I picture the reader as a black cis-gendered female, physical appearance will not be described at all.

Content within this story may not be realistic or factual.

I do not condone any of the behavior displayed within the story.

There may be dark content such as: gore, violence, triggering topics, graphic scenes, vulgar language, explicit content, sexual content, non consensual and/or dubious consensual content, etc.

That being said, this story is for 18+ only.

You understood that your employer baited a few naive employees to mandate the merchandise on one of the most dangerous nights of the year—you having been one of the victims of the sly persuasion. You recognized the inducement dripping from the tone of the flower shop’s owner.

“It shouldn’t be that hard to make sure the store is in good condition by the morning. This is a small business, anyway,” she chuckled, hands placed on her hips as she faced the four of you. “I mean, for god’s sake, who’d want to steal flowers?”

Now, you might’ve made a hasty decision in accepting the offer placed on your shoulders, but you were no idiot. You knew the consequences of remaining in a public environment while the duration of the chaotic night played out. Despite the risks that could take place, the price to gain was too enticing to ignore.

Most individuals would simply run around, breaking into banks and wealthier people’s homes to steal cash instead of taking an overnight shift for a boss who’s dubiously obsessed with the product—enough to schedule four of her employees, who had no certifications, as security guards. You weren’t one of those people.

You had no intention of getting slashed across the throat or shot through the head because you were a threat to someone else’s gain. You weren’t one to fight over things of that nature. You didn’t find it worth your life.

You agreed with the owner—nobody would aim for a flower shop. Especially one that attracts minimal business. The boss had already removed the cash from the registers, so the only win would be a variety of flower pots and packaged soil.

Your only job is to clean and mandate the shop.

You are currently leaning over the cashier’s counter, thumb swiping through your social media feed as one of your coworkers, Aimi, sweeps the remnants of fallen petals from the hanging plants, lowly humming a tune as she moved her arms. Chieko had just finished pinning the fabric that conceals the glass windows of the shop, taking a few steps back to admire the work as she rubbed her palms against her jeans.

“This should be good enough, right?” she questioned, turning back to face the assistant manager, who sat on a chair with a leg crossed over, phone in hand.

Jona’s gaze shifted to the covering before he dismissively waved her off, nodding. “Yeah, it’s as good as it’s gonna get.”

You exhaled sharply, setting your phone in your pocket as you stood upright. You turn to face the other employees as you swallow. “Hey, are you sure that nobody has ever tried to break in?” you question, your main focus placed on Jona.

Aimi’s irises flicked over to you before she cracked a warm smile. “Yeah! I’ve taken this shift each year, and nobody has ever tried anything,” she shrugged, setting the broom against the wall.

Chieko walked towards you before placing a hand on your shoulder. “There’s nothing to worry about. I’ve taken this shift for about five years, and I’m still here,” she said, her tone filled with a confident ease that should’ve relaxed your anxiety.

But you couldn’t rid yourself of the heavy pit you felt spreading throughout your stomach.

Jona rolled his eyes before leaning back in his seat, stretching with his arms held in the air. “Relax. Time flies by faster than you think.”

Your eyes shift to the cat-shaped clock that’s set on the wall at the back of the store. It reads nine o’clock, two hours into the dangerous and yet celebrated tradition. Your bottom lip is caught between your teeth as you reach for your phone—

Tap, tap, tap.

Time freezes as you and your coworkers’ attention quickly flies to the entrance of the store. The wooden door’s silver knob rattles, the glass window’s fabric concealing the culprit.

The store is quiet, everyone paused in their positions as they study the area, concern evident in their expressions. Your head turns to Jona as he stands up, shoving his phone in his pocket as he stiffens in his spot.

“Hello? Is anyone there?” You hear the muffled sound of a male’s voice, pleading. The tone is slightly shaky but carries an edge of relative calmness as he knocks against the surface. “Please, I need help!”

You turn to face all of the employees as sweat forms on your skin. “Has this happened before?” you mutter, voice almost a whisper as you try to stay quiet.

Chieko turns towards you, swallowing before she shakes her head in denial. Aimi mimics the gesture as she stares at the door. You can see the unease settle in their presence—fingers twitching, bodies stiffening, and fear radiating off of the women.

Your eyes flick over to Jona, observing the slightly perturbed look on his expression, though contorted with annoyance.

“J—Jona! What are you doing?” Aimi hissed quietly. Her voice is dripping with an apprehensive tone that matches her mien. She attempts to reach out for him, but he moves too fast, standing in front of the door as he lifts the fabric slightly—just enough to peek out of the window.

What the fuck is he doing?!

From the angle where you stand, you fail to see his expression as he stands there for a moment. Eventually, Jona releases the fabric and walks back to the center of the room, facing all of you.

“Listen, that guy out there—he’s bloody as fuck. Nobody is allowed to unlock that door,” he says, his tone flat but edged with caution. His fingers entangle with his short hair as he frowns.

“Bloody? Did he have any weapons?” Aimi questions, eagerness in her tone. She walks closer to Jona, though still at a distance.

He shakes his head. “I didn’t see any, but I’m not taking any chances,” he says as he yanks a small knife out of his pocket. “If he somehow passes through, I at least have this to fight against him.”

You give him a pointed look. “And if he has a gun? What if he just breaks through the windows?” you question, your voice laced with irritation and worry.

Chieko clears her throat. “It’s very rare for a citizen to have a gun here in Japan,” she replies, her tone steady but with an underlying edge of concern.

“Rare, but not impossible,” Jona says before his eyes shift to you. “Look, Y/n. There’s no promise of complete safety. You knew this when you signed up. We work with what we’ve got, so it’s better to just stop asking questions and breathe, got it?”

BANG, BANG, BANG!

“Please! Help me! I—I know someone’s in there! They’re gonna kill me!” the stranger screeches.

All of you wince at the sound of the man’s shouting, his fist against the door growing louder as it vibrates the surface. You can only stand in place as shock becomes evident on the rest of your coworkers’ faces. The tension in your chest grows as the hairs on your skin stand tall. Your heart erratically beats against your chest as your pulse throbs.

“T—they’re?” Aimi repeats, whispering to herself as her hands tremble. “There’s more people?”

Chieko exhales sharply. “They could’ve meant one person, Aimi. We need to relax and come up with an escape pla—!”

The sound was sickening—a roaring rev of a chainsaw, followed by the wet, meaty rip of flesh being pierced through interrupted her statement. It was grotesque, the impact causing muffled gurgles and ragged gasps to escape from the man outside as the relentless grind of metal cleaved through bone.

Suddenly, an eerie stillness settles over the store, a silence heavy with unspoken terror as you all stand, frozen in place.

“J—Jona,” Aimi stammered, fingers gliding against her cheeks as she reached for her hair. “I—I…”

As she trailed off, you swallowed hard, eyes flicking over to Chieko, who was quiet, aside from the shallow, ragged breaths escaping her lips.

Your breathing stopped as you heard a light tapping against the window.

“Oh, Y/n… We know you’re in there! Come out and play!” the male sang, the sound of metal clanking with the glass.

Your body freezes at the sound of your name.

What?

You felt a sudden pit in your stomach as all your coworkers’ gazes locked on you.

“You know them?” Jona questioned, his brows furrowing at your form.

You gasped, shaking your head. “N—no! No, I don’t know anyone aside from you guys!”

It’s the truth. You had only recently moved to Japan after studying the language. You hadn’t had any time to make friends, so it was impossible for anyone to have known you aside from your coworkers.

Before you could defend yourself any further, a crash echoed as the force slammed into the front glass wall, shattering it. You all instinctively ducked in response.

A loud thud landed on the floor, rolling a couple of times before the headless corpse limped on the ground, a ruddy puddle oozing from the gaping neck. You sucked in a sharp breath as you jolted back in quick panic. After hearing Aimi’s scream, your head shifted to her, breaths ragged as you eyed the pieces of glass embedded in her face. Her hands shook as her lips parted in horror.

“My face! My face!” she cried, hysterical as the tears fused with the crimson running down her face. Her fingers barely grazed the sharp pieces as you and Jona stared at her in disbelief.

Your head turned to see Chieko frozen, her form stiff as she trembled, her eyes wide open as she observed the open space of the entrance.

Jona cursed when both of you matched the direction of Chieko’s gaze.

A masked individual stepped over the pointed edge that stuck out from the foundation of the gaping space, the glass cracking underneath their boot. The white plastic concealed his identity, though his blonde-and-black strands draped over his shoulders. Your eyes shift to the metal bat they drag across the floor, your heart rate spiking once the bloody edge comes into view.

Its face was contorted into a somber expression, eyes squinted and nose sculpted to scrunch, while the mouth was drawn into a deep frown. Blood stained the fabric of his clothes, as well as the white of his mask. He stood in place as the rest of the group followed, stepping into the store as the sound of glass crackled.

Your eyes flicked to the man who held the crimson-stained chainsaw, his mask’s expression sculpted into an angry gaze. The mouth mimicked the first person’s shape, but the brows were furrowed. His wavy strands were a solid black, styled similarly to the individual standing next to him. A dry, ruddy substance streaked across his mask, fresh blood covering the majority of his clothes.

Another masked person appeared, slightly diagonal to the first male who entered. His mask was shaped into a theatrical, mischievous grin. His pink hair was pulled into a neatly combed ponytail, one strand flowing over the bloody plastic shield. His glove-covered fingers stretched around the handle of the stained katana.

The other masked individual chuckled. “Seriously? This is what you were guarding?” he questioned, his tone dripping with mockery as he slung the stained machete over his shoulder. His mask was that of a grimace, his purple hair styled in a mullet. He shoved one hand in his pocket as he looked around, blood splotching both his mask and clothing.

The taller man next to him stepped forward, a baton held in the same position as the former’s machete, though his thumb slightly tapped against the handle. His mask was sculpted into a wide smile, one of humor, as he tilted his head. His short, purple hair was slightly disheveled, his clothes streaked with crimson.

He clicked his tongue. “That’s what you thought would keep you safe?” the male drawled, a smirk evident in his tone. The edge of his baton pointed in the direction of Jona, who stood with caution, holding out his pocket knife. “How pathetic.”

“Enough talk,” the man with the chainsaw said, his tone slightly cocky but firm. “Let’s wreck this place already.”

A chuckle spread throughout the quiet room. “Let’s see how fast they can run,” the blonde-streaked male said.

Instantaneously, everything moved at a quick pace.

You immediately ducked your head as the brisk swing of the baton barely missed your head, the male having taken long strides toward you before you could escape your frozen state.

He chuckled. “Pesky little thing. I’ve been curious about you for a while, Y/n.”

You made eye contact through the mask, purple irises piercing your form before he swung again. You jumped out of the way, just in time for the end of his baton to crack the register, the device flipping over and falling against the counter with a noisy thud.

How does he know my name?

A scream caught your attention, your head shifting to the right where you saw Aimi attempt to make a run for the exit, only for the gloved hand to snatch her by the back of the collar, shoving her to the floor against the corpse. Just as the pink-haired man stepped over her, you rolled out of the direction the edge of the baton smacked, bouncing against the floor.

“I’m curious if you’re worth my time. I’ll see if you make it through the night,” he said, his tone dripping with sick amusement.

You stumbled as you lifted yourself up, just as your gaze switched to Jona, his hand holding up the knife as the purple-haired man walked toward him. “This is too funny,” he chuckled.

CLANK!

The loud sound that echoed throughout the room caught your attention as your gaze shifted to the left. You sucked in a sharp breath as you saw the finishing impact of Chieko’s head being forced to the side, blood splattering in the air as she landed on the ground. She groaned as the male lifted his bat, slamming the end of the metal against her skull over and over. The sickening crunch of the broken bone caused bile to burn your throat, a burning lump caught as you felt the tears prick your eyes.

This is really happening. We’re all gonna die.

“Chieko!” Jona screeched, though the distraction only caused his eventual demise.

I should’ve been more prepared. I should’ve known.

The ear-splitting rev of the chainsaw started up just as the masked male snuck behind the man holding the pocket knife, the metal piercing through his waist at an agonizingly slow pace. Jona’s lips released choked gasps as he stood in place, his head slowly turning toward you with his eyes wide open. You watched as crimson gushed down his chin, the sound of the drops from his cut torso splatting on the ground as his body split open.

Your fingers twitched as you moved, the edge of the baton grazing your shoulder as you jumped out of the path just in time, landing painfully on the messy ground. The palms of your hands slid against the liquid pooling around the area. Your head lifted in time to see the male with the katana place his foot on Aimi’s chest.

Her hands shook as she braced herself. “Please! Please, don’t kill me! I’m not ready to die!”

The man crouched over her, katana across his lap as he leaned against his knees. He brought his free hand to his mouth, index finger pressed against his lips as he shushed her.

“I’m doing you a favor, you know? With that ugly face of yours and all. You should be thanking me,” he mused, a grin evident behind the mask before he stood upright. His arms raised with both hands wrapped around the katana before he lifted the blade over his head.

You stumbled over the slick blood, picking yourself up just in time for the blade to slice through the head of your former coworker, the grotesque sound of flesh splitting meeting your ears. The man with the baton stared down at you while you ran for the gaping hole in the wall.

Before you could escape, your arm was yanked back, a tight curl of the male’s fingers holding you in a painful grip. “Where are you going? The fun’s just begun,” the male with the bat taunted.

He tossed you on the ground, your body landing with a thud before you scooted back, crimson spreading across your skin as you surpassed the corpses, eyeing the men whose attention was now placed on your trembling form.

Just as you attempt to pick yourself up, the male with the chainsaw in one hand crouched in front of you. Before you can stop your reflexes, you ball your hand into a fist before back-handing the man with an upward curvature, his mask flying off as the strap slides off his head.

Your breathing is ragged as you hear the whistles and snickering in the background, the black-haired male slowly facing you with piercing brown irises. His gaze is locked on you, expression contorted in an irritated and yet amused look. His free hand reached for the cheek you hit.

Your eyes goggled in recognition. “You—!”

The customer.

One of your regulars.

The only difference is that his hair is down and his glasses are vacant.

“B—Baji?”

He smirked. “Yeah, it’s me,” he said before his free hand shot to your throat, fingers curling tightly around the surface as you reached for his hand.

You attempt to peel his fingers off your throat, but he only tugged you upward to match his height as he stood upright. Your nails pierced his skin as you struggled to breathe.

This is it.

“You have any idea how long we’ve been waiting for this moment?” he said, his voice dripping with impatience and a wicked grin planted on his face.

He held you in place for a moment as his eyes flicked over your expression, the sharp gazes of all the men grazing into your skin as they studied you like predators observing their prey.

“Hey, Baji, how about we have a little fun?” The pink-haired man drawled, closing in on your space as he walked forward.

The black-haired man chuckled. “What do ya have in mind?” His grin widened as he stared at you.

You continued to struggle, your heart beating against your chest as your feet dangled in the air.

“A little chase, huh?” he purred, head tilting. “Sounds fun to me.”

“Oh shit, that sounds like a great idea!” the male with the bat said with enthusiasm. “Let’s give her a head start.”

The man with the grimace on his mask hummed. “Sounds fun enough,” he shrugged.

The man with the baton chuckled. “Let’s see how far this bunny can jump.”

Suddenly, your knees met with the hard surface of the floor as Baji leaned over you.

“You get a ten-second head start. If one of us catches you…” he paused as he leaned closer. “You’re mine.”

—𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚢 𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚒𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞’𝚍 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎, 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚞𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚒𝚜 𝚊𝚟𝚊𝚒𝚕𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎.

wc: 1355

Your breathing is ragged as the platform of your shoes slams against the pavement. The night is surprisingly quiet aside from your heavy steps as you rush down the street.

“Please, please, please,” you plead to nothing as the breeze kisses your skin, the chill of the night causing goosebumps to rise from your hair follicles.

The adrenaline in your veins pumps as the heavy beating of your heart erratically thumps against your chest. There’s a tight constriction in the pit of your stomach and an ache that’s spreading throughout your calves.

—

fantasy books (tellalegend, cathjest and evajacks) christmas headers!! 🦌🎅🏻♥️

like or reblog if you save or use! pls!

req: ( @rainn-zy ) Have a nice day Moona! Could I ask for a scenario where Itachi and fem reader have their first time in the dark, and then wake up together seeing each other without their clothes on?( I think this is kind of NFSW and SFW?) Anyway, thanks for your attention! Maybe I'm confused or misspelled, English is not my language Beijoos!🇧🇷🍡 (dangos because Itachi likes it)

this is 4.5k long so separate post for my own sanity. also, I went insane while writing this bc I was trying SO hard to convey the cluelessness and the awkwardness of a first time whilst trying to keep it sweet. pls sedate me ❤️.

warnings: NSFW, minors do not fucking interact. fem!reader, loss of virginity (for both), explicit consent, you guide itachi on how to touch your pussy ig, creampie, itachi doesn't last rip him king you tried, you still come tho don't worry, overstimulation (itachi receiving), he activates sharingan. everything under cut!

•••

itachi is a man who's praised and prized for his knowledge, for his capability. he can read his enemies' every move, predict every twist of a battle, every outcome of a plan– always two, three steps ahead.

but here and now, all of that has no use– not when you are on his lap, pressing slow yet deep kisses on his lips that send shivers down his spine. not when you are tangling your fingers in his hair and pulling him even closer, raking every nerve ending of his alight with want, need.

for the first time in his life, this man doesn't know.

he doesn't know what to do, where to touch, how to touch you. he's clueless, and it's neverwrecking, because you are one of the most valuable things in his life– he wants to lavish you with nothing more than the best he can, make you feel nothing but comfort, love, happiness.

and he's been doing a great job of making you happy, of being a good, caring boyfriend. but he's never been a lover before.

the room is dim lit, lights out except for whatever surface the moonlight grazes. and he likes it like this, he likes knowing you can't fully make out his face– how his eyes are a little bit wider from want and his brows scrunched in worry, anxiety.

he wonders if you like it though, would you rather see him? be seen by him?

he parts the kiss but his lips still linger on yours, still a breath away as his thumb caress your cheek. it trembles, you notice.

"I can lit some candles if you'd like," he sounds hesitant and shy even as he tries not to, and for some reason it flusters you.

knowing that itachi, so reliable, caring and capable itachi, is as nervous and clueless about this as you is so very comforting. knowing you're the reason he's this vulnerable also stirs a heat inside of you.

"it's ok," you whisper, trying not to sound as breathless as you feel– what with you devouring his lips and taking every huff of breath from both of your lungs, "I prefer it like this... if you don't mind."

he struggles to hold back a sigh of relief. you just took 50 pounds of worry in weight off his whole body. he relaxes at that, lips faintly tugging at the corners. you can feel the whisper of his smile as he press the kiss to your forehead, chaste and assuring.

itachi doesn't push closer, he doesn't make the next move even though you can feel he wants to, if the slight bulge brushing your thigh is anything to go by. anticipation buzzes in the air and you cut through by entangling your fingers in his hair, it's a gentle gesture, unlike the eager way you pull him in to take his lips in another searing kiss.

his body shivers. your hands are on him, unsure and shaky but still tugging at his clothes, and your lips kiss every thought away from his brain– he can only feel you, smell and touch you.

it's intoxicating how you manage to erase every coherent thought in his head like this, so easily, and it's embarrassing how he's already straining in his pants when his clothes are barely off and you've both barely grazed each other.

you gasp lowly against his lips when he accidentally presses his hips against your thigh and you feel it. your brain short circuits for a second. is that...? that's his dick, right? and he's... hard, he's aroused for you and the realization of it makes your chest heave and you clench around nothing.

it almost unsettles you how wet you're getting so quickly, your panties cling to your skin and nipples are perky and craving for any attention– you need him to pinch them, wrap his pretty lips around and lick, bite them.

"I'm sorry," your mind is foggy with desire, you barely register the strangled apology. but you do register the way he tugs your lips up and leans a bit further away from you and you frown, placing a hand on his cheek.

itachi bites his lip, freezing in place. he's so so glad the lights are off because he's sure he'd die if you could see him now– red with embarrassment and shame. he failed you, he was trying so hard to keep his hips away from you, to hide his embarrassing boner and now he ruined it, right? surely you're nervous like him and this probably made it worse, he should be moving slower, he should–.

he gulps, "I didn't mean–," to hump myself on you like a depraved idiot, he tries to say but clearly struggles.

you interrupt the mess that is his train of thought,

"It's fine," the assurance in your timid voice makes his stomach flutter– from desire, sure, but also adoration. it's like itachi cannot breath without being reminded each second how much he loves you– why he fell for you. "I don't mind, I–" you swallow the lump in your throat but it doesn't make your neck feel any lighter, voice still strained with both anxiety and desire, "I don't mind if you touch me."

you both just need confirmation, just need to know you're both ok with this, that you want this.

and itachi forgets how to breath in that second, because he pants as he leans closer, "are you sure?" there's a pang of desperation in his rushed voice that you've never heard before– makes your stomach leap and the spot between your legs tighten with need.

your fingers curl on whatever flesh they can grip, blunt nails scraping his skin "please."

is desperation too what he finds when he kisses you– plush lips molding over yours, moving in a way that makes you eager for more– proved by how the second he licks at their seam, they part swiftly.

he devours you then and the intesity of his kisses makes you arch into him, a moan escaping and immediately muffled by him. you feel his grip on your hips, firm and tight as it pulls them down against his; the contact makes you whimper, you can feel him now fully– even through layers of clothes you feel the heat and how hard it is against your covered pussy. you can't help but grind into him as you break the kiss, moaning his name.

itachi curses low under his breath, warm breath fanning over you lips as he feels you dragging your clothed core over his bulge– makes every nerve in his body tingle and cock pulse with want.

you feel a weight at the middle of your body and a shiver skims down your spine when you spot his fingers curling around the fabric of the sash keeping your yukata secure. you feel his eyes on you and your hands wrap around his nape, fingers digging into his scalp as you pull his face to yours.

the kiss is much slower than the heated make out you were both having, but it's just as passionate– every movement of your lips sends a pulse down his stomach, and it's all the confirmation he needs to tug the sash away.

itachi parts your yukata with reverence– his breath is held as he guides the fabric down your shoulders, elbows, until it's completely off your skin and pooling at his lap.

his hands are shaking because he can clearly make the shape of your breasts and the faint shape of your nipples– they're perky and hard, aroused and craving attention.

he swallows hard, finger itching to touch and mouth salivating. he's never been this aroused before in his life, it's hard to think knowing you're almost completely bare on his lap, and wanting him just as much as he does you.

"can I–," he takes a sharp breath, trying to steady his voice, "can I touch you?"

your breath hitches and you bite your lip to restrain a low moan, "please do."

his hand, big and firm cups your breast and your eyes fall shut, thighs instinctively trying to clench, stopped by his hips. you can feel your clit throb when he experimentally runs a thumb over your hardened nipple, a broken moan falling from your lips.

"does that feel good?" he asks, hesitant. if the room wasn't this dim, you'd probably chuckle at how his brows are pinched in concentration, his attention completely focused on how he is touching you. he can feel the peeble skin of your stiff nipple and his cock throbs at your sweet moan.

"yes," you manage to breath out, "can you... can you rub it?" you sound almost shy as you ask, and it's cute, he thinks.

he runs his tumb once again over your nipple, this time rolling it around digit and body shudders, "like this?" you moan another yes and itachi groans in response.

his lips run down your neck, brushinv past your collarbones and your stomach flutters the second you feel it on your breasts. he presses kiss after kiss, all the while gently rubbing you perked nipple and squeezing your tit.

but it's when his lips finally wraps around the other one that your stomach tightens with need– you moan his name and your nails dig in his scalp, pushing his head on your chest as you feel his tongue give tentative lick on the perked little bud.

itachi downright moans against your chest when your hips once again start slowly grinding against his and on instinct of taking a sharp breath, he sucks your nipple into his mouth.

your head is thrown back and you whimper in pleasure. you're so wet you can feel your panties clinging to your pussy lips, he's driving you mad and if he doesn't touch you there, you feel like you'll die.

you grab his free, the one that's not deliciously toying with your nipple, and take it to the place rught between your thighs. you press his fingers to the waistband of your panties and you'd be so embarrassed of doing this moments ago, but right now, it only arouses you more.

"can you... c-can you touch me here too?" you ask hesitantly. you're not sure how far he wants to take it.

he has to clench his jaw to stop the most indecent moan from coming out his lips. he can feel the precum right as it leaks out of his tip.

he swallows hard, lips pressed on your skin to keep himself sane as he speaks, "could you... teach me how?"

you nod frantically, almost sobbing before you realize he can see it. you whisper a small "yeah" before you guide his fingers under the waistband of your panties.

his breath hitches and this time he can't stop the moan that hisses out when you press his fingers to your bare cunt.

he can feel you, on the very tip of his fingers– how your damp folds part around them, the delicious heat that immediately pours off you and onto his fingers, and how fucking wet you are.

itachi is worried at this point he might come in his pants at just the feel of you like this– dripping down his and your own fingers as you coax him to skim over your folds, to feel your lips and trace your little hole.

"you're killing me, darling." he whimpers, jaw clenched as he tries so hard to grasp to his sanity while rubbing your cunt.

his chest feel heavy and he can't stop thinking about how wet and hot you are, and how tiny your hole felt. how could he possibly fit his cock inside you?

you shudder on top of him as your fingers lead his higher and you feel tears brim in your eyes when he finally he grazes your clit with the pad of finger; the faint touch makes your thighs clench around his hips, makes you whimper his name and grind against his hand.

your fingers curl on his hair to pull him closer, an anchor, while you try to process what you just felt– his sickeningly sweet heat at the very pit of your stomach that teased a fire even bigger. you were panting in anticipation, in disbelief of how much your body seemed to crave for him to stroke your clit again, rub it until that fire melted out of you.

"there," you plead in a breathless moan, "please touch me there."

and itachi is nothing if not a man devoted to you. even if his fingers are clumsy and touch still tentative, he presses them to that swollen little nub that has you singing moan after broken moan for him, and gets your thighs closing around his hips. he can feel it pulse under his digit and he thinks you feel even wetter than before as you sob his name.

he sucks your nipple back into his mouth and go back to rub the other at the same pace he rubs you little clit, and the coil in the pit of your stomach is almost unberable as you sob. you can feel it, so very close to snapping and in desperation, you grip his hand, tugginv it away from you.

your whole body stiffens in disappointment, but you bite the frustrated moan back.

itachi's face falls, lips bitten in worry as he gently takes his hand away from you and your underwear. "did I hurt you?" there's worry in his voice and you gasp, realizing how that might have looked through his eyes– he thinks he fucked up, that his touch is wasn't wanted.

you try to regain your breath, but your voice still sound unsteady as you hurry to speak, "no, no. it's nothing like that I just–" you swallow hard, already feeling the heat prickling at your cheeks even before you utter the next words. "I...  I was close," you admit, voice small and a little bit shy as you press your face against his shoulder– as if he could see you, as if the room wasn't so dark and you didn't need to hide. but you needed the comfort, the closeness.

you find it hard to say the next part, words stuttering even inside your brain.

itachi sounds a bit confused, yet gentle anyway as he leans clsoer to you, a kiss pressed to the side of your neck, "and is that a bad thing?"

you whimper, curling a little bit in shame before you swallow it. "no..."

"but?" he coaxes, pressing another kiss to your hair.

"but I wanted to come with you inside me," you finally rasp out, words rushing out of your mind before you can regret or stutter on them. "if you want that too, I mean," you complete, you don't want to pressure him.

you're completely unaware of how his cock throbs inside his pants at your words, how his tip is leaking for you and how hard he is.

a hand sneaks to your chin then, lifting it up. he grazes his fingers, still damp and coated with your slick, on your bottom lip, coaxing it to part slightly– whether it is from the delicate pressure or from the immediate surprise of him using the fingers he was just rubbing your pussy with, he's not sure, and it truly doesn't matter when it gets a low moan from you. they feel cooler now, but the heat they felt is seared in his mind.

he's panting as he whisper right against your lips, "are you sure that's what you want?"

you could cry then– cry from how considerate he is, and cry from how this fire doesn't stop aching and how much you needed him while not even being able to voice it fully.

"I need you inside me so bad it hurts, itachi," you whimper, feeling the tears slowly blurring your vision as your pussy clenches around nothing, "I want this."

you might as well have ripped the breath out of his lungs by the way he's panting. he offers whatever is left of it to you nonetheless in a kiss, searing and intense, as he pulls you up and on your feet to quickly get rid of his own clothes.

you hear the fumbling as you kiss him, and you part it only to tug your own panties down. you fluster at the way you can feel your slick clinging to it as you finally get rid of the soaked material.

itachi is quick to pull you back on his lap. a shiver licks down your spine when you feel his cock brush against your inner thigh– his skin is hot and hard where it touched you, and you whimper in need.

"I've heard it might hurt in your first time," it takes you second to comprehend what he's talking about, too dazed by your arousal and how close you are to finally feeling him inside you, "please," he cups you cheek and the tender kiss he presses to your nose makes your heart leap, "let me know if I need to stop. I don't want to make you feel pain," his whispered words felt so intimate and assuring, like a warm blanket placed around your shoulders. you think you'll never be able to stop loving this man, and how much he cares for you.

you cup his cheek in return, thumb caressing the patch of skin over his cheekbones, "I will," you whisper to him before taking his lips in another kiss.

the kiss is deep this time, slower and more calculated. he wants to feel every skim of your lips on his, every graze of your tongue. his fingers curl around his cock and he hisses, he's so sensitive the touch almost burns, balls tightening and his breath grows ragged as he guides his leaking tip towards your pussy.

it takes some trial and error before he finally feels your wetness on his skin. you both moan as he slowly parts your dripping folds with the tip of cock. your nails dig in his skin and your hips buck when it accidentally grazes your clit.

you can easily  otice he's struggling to find your entrance, you're just as eager as him, just as sensitive and the process almost feels like a teasing torture.

itachi's eyes close shut and a strangled moan falls from his lips when he feels your hand wrap around his, you fingers brush slightly against the his cock and he almost loses it.

you're tugging at his grip, guiding his hand until his cocktip catches on your tight and dripping hole. you moan his name, pleading him to put it in and itachi feels his stomach tightening.

he presses his the head of his cock inside you, feeling your little hole slowly giving in, spreading around him. he hears you panting, feels your body tense for a second before relaxing. your jaw is clenched and you're holding onto him for dear life as he slowly guides your hips down and coax your pussy to take him– he feels so big, you feel your walls stretchinv around him, and ache not painful but unfamiliar, that still the breath in your lungs.

"you're ok?"  you don't even notice he stopped moving. even while sitting completely still inside you, his cock presses against your walls to firmly, still spread your tight hole so much.

you take a second to respond, trying to put scattered words together in your hazed brain at the same pace you regain your breath, "yeah," you manage to say, "please keep going."

itachi hesisates for just a second before gradually descends your hips onto his. you both whimper in pleasure and restraint the second your hips finally meet.

you're filled to the hilt, tight pussy squeezing around his cock as it tries to assimilate the thick cock pushing against its every nerve ending. your boyfriend, on the other hand, never thought paradise could be this cruel. you feel amazing, so fucking tight around his cock, he can feel your slick dripping down his balls and at this point he's not sure if it's your cunt clenching around him or his cock pulsing inside you. it all feels good, too good– he won't fucking last.

his balls are tightening in pleasure and the tip of his cock aches and ebbs small but thick beads of precum inside you. you plead him to move and his stomach feels taut, the moment he pulls you hips up and then guides it back down on him he knows he's gone– your pussy drags so smoothly around his cock, even as tight as you're gripping him, you're so wet that he could easily hold you still and thrust hard into you until you're a moaning mess.

if he wasn't on the brink of cumming inside you already, that is. he whimpers your name, almost sobs it when he drags your pussy up his cock once again, "I'm not gonna last," the confession is pulled out him in a strangled moan.

you can feel him pulse inside your tight walls, and you moan lowly, "it's ok. you come," your voice sound so sweet, like a siren singing against his ear, "I want to feel it."

and itachi is gone the moment those words leave your lips– he manages to buck his hips twice more into your tight cunt before his cock throbs and his cum spills deep inside you. the warmth is overwhelming, much like the feel of his tip spurting that much cum inside you. your whole body shudders, and you could almost cum too from how his cock pulses in your pussy as he orgasms, how he moans your name like something holy and how hard itachi is gripping you.

but you don't, your clit still ches in desire and your pussy still squeezes around him, trying to chase the same release.

his head falls against your shoulder as he comes down from his high.

"I'm sorry," it's almost inaudible with the way he's gasping for air, but you can still make out his apologies between his desperate catch of breath, "I– I didn't mean to... you– you felt so good."

you whimper, eyes stinging with tears– you're so sensitive and it feels like you're so very close and so far of the edge. even his words are enough to make your clit throb.

he hisses when your pussy tightens around his spent cock, he can feel your desperation– you cling to him, sob into his neck and to grind your hips against his to get any sort of friction, but his iron grip frustrates every attempt.

he coos at you, heart tightening in his chest– he hates to see you suffer. he presses his lips against your cheek, soothing you, "I know, darling, I'm sorry. it hurts doesn't it? I'll make it up to you, my love," he whispers to you, trying his best to ignore how your pussy keeps gripping his sensitive cock, in order to fully focus on you.

"can you be still for me, angel? I'll make you come, I promise," he will do it even if takes all night and day, but he won't be able to focus if you keep trying to grind your hips against his.

he hears you sob against neck before nodding, a muffled "please," uttered against his skin.

one of his hands leave your hips and he's so grateful when you keep them still, even when he knows how hard it must be for you. he rewards you instantly by pressing his thumb against your clit– and just how you teached him, he rubs it, this time applying enough pressure to cause your eyes to roll to the back of your skull.

your toes curl and itachi slides his free hand all the way to the back of your head and gently tug at your hair, coaxing you lean back, and you do, without a second thought. you're almost laying back as he leans forward, and before you can even think, his lips are wrapped tightly around your nipple, his teeth grazing at the stiff nub as he sucks on it.

the moan that rips out of you is broken and desperate– his thumb is merciless rubbing your swollen clit and the added stimulation to your nipples makes tears run down your eyes. it feels so good.

your pussy is clamping down on him, he can feel you're close even before the moan breaks from you, it makes his cock ache from rhe oversensitivity and yet, he doesn't pull out.

it's his punishment, he thinks– for denying you of pleasure for this long, for getting his before you could get yours. and yet, even as you cunt flutters frantically around his extremely sensitive cock, he can't help but find the overstimulating sensation, his punishment, sweet, especially as he feels yours and his slick dripping down his balls as you finally cum.

he's well aware the dark is meant to keep you both from feeling too overwhelmed by each other's gaze, and perhaps he is cheating when his black pupils dilate into deep bright red, glowing faintly in the dark night. he is cheating as he see you perfectly, eyes closed and every micro expression tiwsted into pleasure– but can he be blamed for wanting to commit it to memory, for craving to engrave you to his memory, just like this, in this beautiful and mindnumbing glory as you come apart for him?

no, no he can't.

his lips brush featherlight kisses onto your skin, from chest all the way to your cheek.

much like you, he's still catching his breath- low pants and gasps fanning across your cheek when he leans closer.

you can also hear it in his voice, the strain of it, the quick intakes of air and yet, there's still remnants of that hunger when asks in hushed breath, "more?"

•••

he wakes up to the nuzzle of your nose against his neck. he chuckles, hands rubbing against your bare back.

"good morning," you whisper against his skin and a small shiver runs through his skin.

he smiles, eyes opening to a room fully lit by the morning sun, and he gazes down at you, "good morning, my love," you lean back to catch his eyes and the tenderness in them makes your heart flutter in your chest.

your head tilts a bit in confusion when his eyes drop down your frame and he immediately averts his gaze, cheeks tainted red. you follow his gaze and immediately feel your own heatening too.

the sheets covering your bare frame had fallen aside, exposing your chest and stomach, probably when you moved back to stare at him.

"oh," you bite your lip, not sure what to say or if you should cover yourself. would he understand it wrongly if you did? would he prefer it? you're about to reach for the fabric when his fingers wrap around your own, effectively stopping you.

he cleans his throat, but he still cannot keep your gaze, and you're sure you've never seen itachi this red before in your life, but the way he speaks to you is genuine, and ends alll your worries on the spot, "you are beautiful."

i was thinking about gojo in his 40s. the white hair never losing it's shine because he uses expensive hair care. but no money can hide the aging. which is why there's a faint hint of wrinkles appearing near his eyes, his hands rougher than usual when they caress your waist. how you tiptoe your way to give him a peck and you feels his white stubble graze your cheeks. after all these years, he is still an eye candy. his fashion sense never dropped. he decorates himself in most luxurious suits and casuals. although his taste in cologne has changed. he prefers more earthy or woody scent than metallic ones. he looks his age, no doubt. but he has maintained himself in such a way that even after 12 years later, he still manages to take breaths away with his appearance and mannerisms. he is more mature now (funny how the 28 year old him wasn't) but you know the kid inside you never dies so he pulls occasional pranks on his students.

his voice is a little hoarse now but it still turns soft when he speaks to you. demeanor more cold now but his eyes still perks up when he sees you. and when you embrace him in your arms, he feels home. not a care in the world. like he is eighteen again, falling in love for the first time.

L.O.V.E. ୨୧ EREN

“when we die, i hope i will be the first one to go,” you whispered through the silent night you and eren enjoy.

you felt his body freeze as you declare those words.

both of you were lying on the grass as you two watch the fading sunset on the horizon. she’s painting the sky red as she confesses her love for the dense skies.

he hummed. “and why is that? you giving up already?”

“no,” you say. and that’s true. you’re not giving up. “i still have so much to fight for. but when that time comes, i hope i’ll be the first one to go.”

he kept quiet. eren didn’t know what’s going on inside your mind. you’re unpredictable. reckless, impulsive, and stubborn. you’re also efficient, reliable, and protective.

your family died during the first invasion of the titans and he always see himself in you. your fiery rage, your desire to burn the world if it means avenging your fallen clan. he wanted you. he wanted to swallow you whole. he wanted to devour your very being. he wanted to set himself on fire and burning every fiber of his soul if it means for you to walk this world with warmth and lightness.

“because i don’t think i can live a life without you, eren.” you looked at him with glistening eyes, tears threatening to fall like snowflakes against your soft cheeks.

you placed your hand on his cheeks and smiled. “and if one day the heavens decided to finally have your life, i would willingly go. i would trade my entire soul if it means for you to live the life you deserve, because out of everyone else here? you deserve to be the happiest, eren.”

you stare at the sunset giving farewell to her lover, promising to meet again like the first time. “i’ll wait for you there because the kind of love i have for you transcends beyond the life and death we always knew.”

Blessed (1/2)- Fushiguro Megumi x fem!Reader

SPOILERs for up to ch. 235 - canon complient until then Pairing: Fushiguro Megumi x fem!Reader Genre: angst (Part 1), fluff (Part 2), hurt/comfort Word Count: 4 336 (Part 1) Warnings: death, injury, stitches, blood, pain Summary: The battle against Sukuna was won by Gojō, but now it’s up to you to save Megumi. Part Two

“Megumi!“

You stumbled through the rubble of what had once been Shinjuku. Pieces of debris were strewn around everywhere, blocking your path. Some you surrounded, some you climbed over, your heart beating painfully hard in your chest. What an irony, you thought bitterly that Megumi, whose name meant nothing other than “blessed”, had been subjected to all this torture.

The fight was over. Gojō-sensei had won over Sukuna. But Sukuna still possessed Megumi’s body. Your best friend Megumi, the one you had grown closer to than what you would call friendship at this point. It was days’ worth of sparing, study sessions in which you had sat close enough for his knee to press against yours, nights, when nightmares had driven him out of his bed, and he had come to seek comfort in yours. This was not simple friendship anymore, not the way you were friends with Yūji anyway. But you had never addressed it, and neither had he. Now it was too late.

Following the develepments of the battle on the observation screens, you had seen the damage Gojō-sensei had done to Sukuna. Now your only goal was to reach them before Megumi bled out.

There was a way to get rid of Sukuna, without killing Megumi. If you, or anyone else, had trusted your skills any earlier, you would have exorcised Sukuna from Yūji’s body like that. But now there was no time for doubts, not when Gojō-sensei’s energy was as good as drained, and Sukuna too weak to recover.

You had only a few very short minutes to manipulate Sukuna’s soul into healing Megumi’s injuries and then crumbling it to dust, killing Sukuna and hopefully keeping Megumi alive in the process. A few very short minutes before Sukuna would have gathered his strength again, and could wipe you out with less than the blink of an eye. A few very short minutes, before Gojō-sensei had the strength to do, what would be his only option: Kill Megumi to get rid of Sukuna forever.

You made it over a huge block of debris, slithering down its side, not caring about the way your trousers ripped, and the skin in your palms got torn open with your poor attempt to control your way down. But then Megumi’s motionless body came into view, and Gojō-sensei, standing only a few feet away from him.

“Megumi,” you called again, breathless, your voice an octave higher than usual, panicked.

Not paying the faintest thought to your teacher, you rushed towards Megumi, when suddenly Gojō-sensei’s pale hand shot forwards, grabbing your wrist. You halted, less from the resistance of his hand around yours, than the lack thereof. In the way Gojō’s fingers were holding onto you, you could tell just how weak he had become during the fight. He was shaking, barely enough strength left to keep his weak hold on your wrist, the cursed energy you usually had felt thrumming through him from several meters away was almost completely drained.

“Don’t-” he warned. Don’t get to close to him, we don’t know how strong he is. Don’t get too close to him, I don’t want you to get hurt.

The unspoken plea hung in the air between you, his blue eyes fixed on the back of your head as you stared at Megumi’s body, or what was left of it. His clothes were torn and bloody. Scratches and cuts and Sukuna’s violent, black marks littered his torso and arms and his beautiful face. His one hand was missing.

It felt, like all will to fight had suddenly left your body, seeing him like this. There was no way you could safe him. There was nothing you could do. You would have to let Gojō-sensei do what you had always feared would be the destiny that was bestowed upon Yūji: you had to let him execute Megumi so the world could get rid of Sukuna.

“Please-” Gojō’s voice tore through the haze that had begun dulling your senses. It was heavy with pain, weak with exhaustion. And enough to startle you back into the moment.

With a quick motion you drew your hand out of your teacher’s grasp, using more force than needed, putting a small amount of cursed energy into it too, just to spite Gojō, before you closed the last steps and dropped down beside the bruised and beaten body of the boy you held so close to your heart.

But it was not Megumi, who looked back at you. It was a dark and ancient evil, now temporarily too weak to protest, when you collected all your courage and reached out, pressing your palm against a bloody and sweaty forehead.

You felt Sukuna’s soul immediately. It recoiled at your touch, and while the skin under your fingers was almost freezingly cold, Sukuna’s soul burnt as hot as the centre of a star. It didn’t just burn though. It was burnt. You felt the wounds Gojō had inflicted, littered over the metaphysical body of Sukuna’s soul, felt the pain, the agony and terror he was in. The terror was not directed towards Gojō, whose soul you felt standing directly behind you. It was directed towards you, towards what you would be able to do to him.

At the realization of Sukuna’s fear of you, sudden confidence surged through your veins, and quickly you grabbed the remains of what once had been the most powerful sorcerer on earth.

Heal him. It was a command, spoken without words. A direct link from your soul to Sukuna’s, and when you opened your eyes, you saw how the first cuts on Megumi’s familiar face began closing. You forced Sukuna’s last energy into healing that which he had destroyed, and to keep him from dying before Megumi was fully healed, you fed into the healing process with your own cursed energy, acting like a battery for the tool Sukuna had become in your goal to restore Megumi’s body. You felt the sorcerer’ soul wring and whimper under the control you held over it, the sensation not unfamiliar from all the times you had done it with curses before, but even now you felt the power which Sukuna had once held. The part of you that was not glowing white with rage, the part of you, which you had inherited from ancestors so long ago that they had shared food with dinosaurs, this part cowered in fear. But you didn’t. You squeezed tighter, tasting blood on your tongue and the pain and fear Sukuna was radiating. It took you a moment to understand that the blood you tasted was your own, a nosebleed from the sudden exhaustion of draining your cursed energy into healing Megumi.

The unexpected touch of a hand on your shoulder startled you, but not enough to lose focus on the task at hand. You knew it was Gojō, you had felt the same touch hundreds of times, whenever he placed his hand on your shoulder to reprimand you or to calm you down. But you would not be reprimanded this time, would not calm down. Not until Sukuna had healed Megumi, not until Sukuna was dead, not until your friend was safe.

But the scolding you expected never came. Instead, you felt Gojō-sensei pouring his cursed energy into you, fuelling the process you had started. You did not dare look, but from the strain it put on your body, you knew, Megumi’s hand had probably about halfway grown back already. With Gojō-sensei acting as a second power source the process sped up dramatically, while you made sure to keep complete control over Sukuna, who began begging, pleas you only felt, as your soul had tapped into his, holding him down and making sure he was always just one last drop of cursed energy away from crumbling entirely. It felt strange, feeling the now drained power of Sukuna on the one end, and Gojō’s seemingly endless but weakened energy on the other. You felt like a threat in a lightbulb docked into a socket with too much voltage, just a second away from burning out.

“Yūji, leave.”

Gojō’s voice sounded far away, dimmed, like you had cotton in your ears, and the voice that answered, not at all louder, but unmistakably Yūji’s was as stubborn as you felt.

“Are you going to kill Sukuna?”

There was a pause you wanted to fill, wished you had the resources left to tell Yūji: What do you think we’re doing here? Cuddling?

But you were too weak. All your focus was on Sukuna healing Megumi, and slowly but surely the realization that this might very well kill you settled in. You had always expected to be scared in the face of death, but you had evaded it so many times now, and dying to kill the worst evil in history, dying to save your friend, that sounded like a fair way to go out.

It was Gojō who eventually answered.

“He’s never gonna kill anybody ever again.”

“How do I help?”

The moment a second hand, smaller and warmer than the first, landed on your other shoulder, you felt like the threat in the lightbulb you were, started glowing, dangerously close to burning out all at once. A few seconds later you could feel the strange smoothness that told you Megumi’s body had been completely healed, and instead focused you last conscious thoughts on one thing and one thing alone: Crushing Sukuna’s soul.

But this was not your job to do. It hadn’t been you, whose life had been turned upside down by Sukuna.

“Yūji-“

It was but a gasp that left your lips but Yūji understood nonetheless. While healing Megumi, Sukuna had been the tool that had been handled by you, with Gojō and Yūji acting as batteries for cursed energy. Now it was you, who would be handled by Yūji as the tool to destroy Sukuna, Gojō continuing to fuel you, even though you could feel that he was reaching his limit. You had stepped over yours a long time ago, and you knew that you would have to pay a high price for it.

Sukuna’s soul began shivering underneath the burned flesh of the wounds Gojō had inflicted. Its pleas turned into threats and then into screams. You felt Yūji’s grip on Sukuna tightening, felt the force with which he closed his wrist around the curse and squeezed, squeezed, squeezed.

Your body was burning up with the pain Sukuna radiated. You felt it all, felt his consciousness wither and crumble as Yūji used your abilities to wring the life from him, felt the fear, the anger, the rage in Sukuna. The part of you that always believed in the good in people tried searching for anything that might bring Sukuna comfort in his last seconds. But you came up empty, there was nothing in his soul but the endless darkness.

You knew your nose was dripping blood down your face, tasted the iron on your tongue, knew your screams were piercing the eerie silence of the destroyed Shinjuku as your body reacted to what your soul was subjected to-

And then it was over. With one deafening crush that nobody could hear but you, Sukuna was dead.

You had felt souls dying countless times before. Sometimes they sizzled out, like the last embers of a bonfire that got extinguished with a glass of water, other times they popped like a balloon pricked with a needle. But Sukuna's soul was different. It started contracting, pulling in, further and further, like a neutron star that began collapsing in on itself. The moment you began feeling the pull of it, you knew what was to follow. Exactly like with the astronomical object, Sukuna's soul would collapse and collapse until it suddenly would invert and instead blow up, not on a physical but a metaphysical scale, the level on which your soul was connected to Sukuna’s. And when his soul blew up like a supernova, it would take all souls connected to it along with it. That meant Megumi's soul, which was still buried in his body somewhere, that meant your soul. That also meant Gojō-sensei's and Yūji’s souls; since you had tapped into theirs to be able to process their cursed energy.

You knew the explosion was inevitable, and you knew that there was no time to draw back from what just a split second ago had been Sukuna. If you did nothing, everyone would die. You had lost too much already; you couldn't lose your only friends and your teacher too. So you did the only thing you could think off in that split second that was left between the moment of Sukuna's death and the inevitable supernova: You wrapped around the collapsing soul, hoping that when it blew up, you would absorb enough of the set free energy to protect the others.

For a moment an unwelcome voice asked what Megumi would say when he woke up and realized that you had sacrificed your life for his, Yūji’s and your teacher’s. He'd be devastated, especially after what had happened to his sister. You wondered if what Yūji had told you all these hours ago held any truth at all. Just before Gojō-sensei had gone to face off against Sukuna, Yūji had told you that Megumi had confessed to having fallen in love with you. Was that true, did Megumi really cared for you? What would have been different, if you had not been too much of a coward to hide your feelings from him and instead had been honest? Would he have reciprocated your feelings? Would that have changed the outcome of this fight?

The remains of Sukuna's soul grew heavier and heavier, shrinking and increasing in density, and you tightened your hold around it. You could feel that it was almost over, and as scared and in pain as you were, you tried reaching out to Megumi's soul. You felt it lingering, somewhere deep, buried away, still passive, and asleep, oblivious to the battle that raged on, that was almost over now.

You sent a thought to Megumi, not sure if he could perceive it, that you had always admired him, and that you wished you could have saved not just him, but his sister too. And yourself. For his sake. You waited for an echo, a reply of any sort, but his soul stayed quiet, a deep blue, darker even than his mesmerizing eyes, cold, untouchable, and unaware. If your soul could have sighed, it would have.

You had tried. Maybe Yūji would tell Megumi eventually about what you had confessed to him when you had been watching the ongoing fight. He had noticed your hands clenching so hard into your seat, that your nails had almost splintered, had picked up on the way your eyes followed Sukuna as if you could kill him and save Megumi by merely looking at him through the screen. And when he had asked, quietly under his breath if what you felt for Megumi was love not on a platonic but a romantic level, you had not denied. Maybe he would share his knowledge when everything was over, when your soul had absorbed all of  the energy set free by Sukuna's death and got torn to pieces. When the others got saved, when Megumi woke up. If Megumi woke up. Right now, his soul was but a deep blue hole of pain and unconsciousness.

And then there was a stir, a shimmer of bright blue in the deep, as if your thoughts had reached him, like waking from a deep dream, Megumi's soul began to shift and shimmer and-

It was over quicker than your quickened perception could follow. One moment Sukuna had been there, the next he was dead, the remains of his soul collapsing and your soul wrapping around it to protect the others, all in the fraction of a split second, and then there was nothing left but the searing pain of your soul getting blown away by what once had been Sukuna.

-

People were hurrying past left and right, dizzying Megumi, and if he hadn’t known his way around Shinjuku station, he would have been hopelessly lost. Annoyed he furrowed his brows, stepping out of the way of an old man, who almost had run into him. How did Gojō imagine Megumi could find this new student with no further specification of the meeting place than “Shinjuku Station”? The station was bigger than a small village, tunnels leading to the subway and connecting subway stations into all directions, several million people passing through each day.

Megumi stepped closer to a column, getting on his tiptoes, and trying to look over the crowd. How was he supposed to find someone who he didn’t even know what they liked like in a place like this? Where would he go if he had been new to Tokyo and thrust into this situation? A pit began growing in Megumi’s stomach as he realised, he would be completely and entirely lost. What kind of evil prank was Gojō trying to pull on that new student, sending them into one of the biggest stations in the world with the promise to get picked up, only for them to realise earlier or later that without a more precise meeting point they’d be lost in the maze that was Shinjuku station. And beyond the exits of it waited Tokyo, vast with its skyscrapers, the busy streets and the crowds of people who all seemed to know exactly where they were going. Gojō really didn’t seem very set on making a good first impression.

Megumi pushed away from the pillar he had leant against and let himself drift away in the crowd. He was not sure where he was going, just following wherever his feet seemed determined to carry him. His eyes skipped over the people before him, those pushing past, those following their daily routine in the morning buzz of the city. Sudden doubt overcame him, but instead of stopping and turning into another direction, he kept walking, following an instinct his brain could not decipher.

A pair of eyes met his, and confused Megumi stopped in his track, just as the other person, a young woman, about his age, had done. Other people streamed past him and her as they stared at each other from a distance, the eye contact again and again interrupted by the other commuters walking between them. It felt like half an eternity that Megumi was frozen in place in the middle of Shinjuku station, taking in the features of the girl who was staring back at him. Even from afar he could make out the sparkle in her eyes, that now doubtfully observed him. Strands of hair were sticking out from underneath the hat she wore to keep warm on the cold December morning. The scarf around her neck matched the hat and underlined her features gently. She was beautiful, Megumi noted, but not in the traditional, socially celebrated sense, but rather in a timeless sense, as if she could be thrown in any era and always be considered beautiful, a quiet, unintrusive beauty.

Eventually it was her, who took the first step, breaking the strange moment of contemplation they had shared. Megumi met her in the middle, only stopping when they stood almost chest to chest to not drift apart in the crowd.

“Are you Gojō Satoru,” she asked, having to speak loudly over the murmur of the station. “I was told, I’d get picked up by him…”

Her voice was soothing, Megumi thought, the vowels softly rolling of her tongue, and for a moment he was so focused on the sound of her voice, that he almost didn’t answer her question.

Quickly finding back into the moment, he shook his head.

“Gojō-sensei is my teacher. I’m Fushiguro Megumi,” he introduced himself. “I’m in my third year of middle school, but I’ll start at the Tokyo Metropolitan Jujutsu Senmon Gakkō in April.”

The girl in front of him nodded, her features softening into what he realised was relief. Apparently she had been just as stressed about finding him here in Shinjuku as he had imagined her to be.

“I’m (y/n),” she answered. “I think we’re going to start Jujutsu High together. It’s nice to meet you. And thank you so much for coming to pick me up.”

She bowed, and Megumi could not help but notice how precise the gesture was, like straight from a schoolbook. Whoever had educated her, must have been very proud of what a diligent student she seemed to be.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Megumi replied, answering her gesture of a bow with one of his own. Except he was aware that his execution of the same was not nearly as neat as hers. “I’m sorry Gojō-sensei didn’t specify the meeting place any further.”

“I must admit, I did feel a little lost,” she laughed, the sound making Megumi steal a glance at her. She was even more beautiful when she smiled. “But you found me in the end, so it’s all good.”

Megumi nodded, quickly averting his eyes from her face as not to make her uncomfortable with the way he had been watching her laugh. “Right,” he agreed, only half convinced, and determined to have a word with his guardian later about how to plan meeting spots. “Let me help you with your luggage.”

He quickly reached for the handle of the suitcase she had pulled to her side, a travel bag wrapped around the handle, while she carried a smaller backpack over her shoulder.

“Oh, that’s fine, please don’t bother,” she denied, but Megumi shook his head.

“You must’ve had a long journey, please-“

She glanced up at him, before hesitantly letting go of the handle of the suitcase, letting Megumi take a hold of it instead. The plastic was still warm where her fingers had wrapped around it.

“We need to go this way,” he gestured, but as he took the first step into the direction of the train line that would carry him and the girl out of the heart of the city and closer towards Jujutsu High, a sudden pain ignited around his left wrist, and with a hiss he let go of the handle of your suitcase. Irritated he looked down on his hand, try to spot the cause of the pain, then the handle of the suitcase. But the suitcase was gone, and so was the crowd of commuters.

Furrowing his brows in alarm, he looked up. The people were gone, only leaving him and you, you who he knew so much better than he had that first day he had come to pick you up from the train station. At his side you were dressed in the school uniform of Jujutsu High, your hands tightened into tense fists, but unlike his gaze, yours was not flitting around the suddenly empty station, the white ceiling, the colourful markings for the different train and subway lines. Your gaze was instead fixed entirely on him.

“Megumi-” your voice was urgent, laced with panic and desperation. Quickly Megumi turned to you, instinctively closing the distance between you and placing both hand at your shoulders. Another wave of pain raced through his left hand, but this time he ignored it, distracted by the look on your face, one of pain and sadness.

“What’s wrong,” he asked, bending down closer to your face, as if he could read the answer to his question in your eyes.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, “I’m sorry for all you had to go through, for not having gotten rid of Sukuna any earlier, for not having been able to save Tsumiki, for-”

“What are you talking about,” he asked, gently shaking you, hoping to tear you out of whatever trance you had fallen into all of a sudden.

“I’m so sorry, Megumi,” you repeated, tears rising into your eyes.

Panic was slowly but surely taking over Megumi. Why were you crying? None of the things you said made any sense! What was he supposed to do now? Should he hug you? Continue to ask what was wrong?

But before he could decide, another lightning of pain shot through his hand, so strong this time, that he stumbled back and clutched it to his chest. When he looked back up at you, your appearance had changed again. Your hair was dishevelled now, its shimmer dimmed with dust. Scratches littered your face, all of them angry and red, and fresh blood was running out of your nose, dripping from your lips. Your eyes were bloodshot, your clothes torn in places and dusty, your jacket stained with drops of blood..

“(Y/n),” Megumi gasped, stepping forwards again, wanting to take hold of you, but this time you were faster, grabbing his lower arms instead.

“You need to wake up.”

Irritated Megumi shook his head. “What are you talking about?”

“Megumi,” the urgency in your voice was so thick, Megumi felt like he could cut it with a knife. “You need to wake up.”

Your voice echoed back from the walls, seeming to grow louder, joined by another voice, a familiar voice, one Megumi had been not sure he would ever hear again. Hopefully he lifted his eyes away from your face, looking up and down the empty corridor in search for Gojō, whose voice had joined the echoes of yours in their strange plea. But the hallway was empty except for you and Megumi, so he turned back to you.

Up close he could see the dark circles under your eyes, how fallen in your cheeks were, how your skin seemed to have lost all its glow. He leant in, intending to wrap his arms around you. He wanted to help, he wanted to wipe that look of despair off your face, but you held him at an arm’s length instead.

“You need to wake up,” you repeated. “Wake up.”

Part Two