Bf Choso Texts!

(Refering to the reader beating the shit out of nogogglescible drabble) "lemme know if you want a fic" PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEAS PLEAS PLEAS PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEAHJ PLEADH PLEDSAF PLEADLS PLESRE-

Damn shawty OK! Here's a quick one!

CW: violence, masochism, dirty talk(?) It's no goggles cmon man

"Do whatever you can to beat it out of him." Is what Cecil told you before you came into the interrogation room. They had somehow subdued this version of Invincible and trapped him in dull room with only one giant one-way mirror, he was trapped and confined to a chair with giant technological confines caging his hand, as if his hands were through a cinderblock.

You were debriefed before you came here, you heard of the killing, how he behaved, naturally you were already wary of Invincible's strength, and this seemed like Cecil's worst nightmare. An Invincible that isn't on your side.

The 'Mark' with you right now had his head tossed back, leaning and lounging like this was a waiting room, he looked up; no goggles covering his dark eyes. "Oh, HeLLO!" He sat up, excited to toy with you. "I remember you!"

You ignored his rambling as you looked through a list. "Y'know, we used to bang in my world! Then you got emotional when I killed somebody and broke up with me. Total bitch behaviour in my opinion, but hey, the sex was— GUH?!"

You had reeled back your fist and swung it into his jaw as best as you could, watching him pant and groan as he readjusted himself. "Ooh! Oh you wanna play?! Fuck, I can't believe I felt that!"

"Where did you and your copies come from?" You started, eyebrows furrowed as his attitude was getting on your nerves. Mark paid no mind to your questioning.

"What copies? You think perfection can be made twice?! You wish there were mo— OUGH!" Another punch in the opposite direction, blood splattering past his lips.

"Answer my questions, why are you here?!"

"Get fucked, sugar♡" Mark grinned as he looked up at you, blood blending into his gums and soaking his teeth and lips, he wanted to piss you off.

You gritted your teeth in frustration, clenching your fists as you repeated the onslaught, his grunting and sputtering echoing in the room.

"Yes, fuck that's— GHK! YES! C'mon! UGH! Hit me again! Hit m—URGH! Oh fuck yes, harder! Harder!" He repeatedly tried to speak and yell at you to hit him harder, your knuckles growing sore and pained as he showed no sign of giving in.

You took a moment to breathe, hands reddened as your panting overlayed his groaning and moaning. "oooh baby... Hah... I know I'm invincible, but you hit like you wanna fuck me...!" His thighs parted further, bucking to get any friction. "Why don't you sit, huh? Gives you stability to beat the shit outta me!"

A cringe appeared on your features as he coaxed you on his lap, you could see a hardening beneath the fitted costume. This freak was horny.

"You're disgusting." You started while rolling up your sleeves, he could feel the arousal rush to his dick as he sat up, licking the blood of his lips.

"Yeah, c'mere baby— get mad at me! Hit me!"

The door clacked open as Cecil stepped in, his expression mirroring yours. "Alright, I can't watch this shit anymore, (Name). Hit the showers."

"I knew it! (Name)?! MY (Name) from MY world?!We were destined to fuck!" Mark announced excitedly while looking up at you. "Quit cockblocking, dickhead! Get out! I don't give a fuck if you cucks watch, just gimme 30 minutes alone here with—"

"You shut up! We'll deal with you later." Cecil watched you collect your things as Mark watched you like an abandoned dog, chest rising and falling. "Wh..?! Hey! Hold on! Not even gonna hit me bye?!"

You rolled your eyes, embarassed and angry by the interaction, you could hear him yelling as you left.

"Hey! Hey, come back whenever, sweetcheeks! Maybe I'll let you choke me while you ride me! You like that shit?! Fuck, you're just my type—"

The door slammed shut, you really hoped this ordeal would get sorted soon.

Mark Grayson 💕 kissing somewhere other than lips

send a heart - 💕 kissing somewhere other than lips

[sort of a part ii to this request x]

-------------------------------------------------

After your workout and a quick shower in the locker room, you were finally done for the day and allowed to go home. You sigh as you heard the automatic doors open & shut for the last barrier to your freedom. This new training Cecil and his team had you on was murder.

You smile despite your sore muscles as you see Mark waiting for you in the hallway. Dressed in his casuals as well. No longer Invincible but Mark Grayson who was going to walk you home. Maybe stay and watch a movie. Maybe do some other stuff…..

“Good work today you two.” You turn to look over your shoulder just as you link your fingers with Mark to see Cecil behind you. How did the man always seem to appear like that? “Stats like that and we’ll be ready for the Super Bowl in no time.” You weren’t sure what the Super Bowl was in this scenario, but Cecil seemed certain it was going to come. “[Y/N], a word?”

Though it was phrased as a question, you knew as well as anyone that it wasn’t. You growl in your throat and squeeze Mark’s hand. “I’ll be back.”

“I’ll be outside.” He promised. Squeezing your hand back before he went out the doors.

You smile wistfully at your sweet boyfriend, before you clear it from your face and turn to Cecil. “Yes?”

“How is the new training going for you?” You arch a brow at Cecil’s question. He knew how it was going. You went over the stats report with the science guys personally with him in the room. So why the question?

“Fine.” You answer cautiously. “Why?”

“I just want to make sure my top players have the resources they need.” There was a pause as you and the older man stare at each other. Finally he added, “how’s Mark doing?”

‘Aahhh’ You thought as you realize you had come to the crux of this line of questioning. This wasn’t about you. It was about Mark. “Mark is fine.”

“You sure about that?” You arch your brow again. Was he questioning how well you knew your boyfriend? “Mark’s been through a lot. His dad tried to kill him, along with half the planet. He had to get his bones and skin stitched back together. People depending on him to save the world.”

“If you’re so worried he can’t handle it, then why don’t you take a little off Mark’s plate so he can.”

Cecil’s frown let you know that he did not like that suggestion. “I’m not saying Mark can’t handle it. I’m saying that I want us to be vigilant in case the boy wonder starts to crack.” It felt like there was another show about to drop. You don’t remember Cecil being this soft or altruistic with the rest of you. “I know you and Mark are close. I’m asking that you help him if he starts to buckle. And, let us know so we can manage it.”

You were shocked. “You want me to spy on Mark.” That’s what all of this was about.

“I’m not asking you to spy on him, [Y/N]. I’m just asking you to keep an eye on him and report back if you notice anything.”

“You literally just said the definition of spying.” You grit your teeth. Disgusted at the mere suggestion you would betray Mark’s trust. “I’ve done a lot of things ‘for the cause’ Cecil. But I’m not doing that.”

“So you would rather get blindsided again like the last time if Mark ever cracks?” Cecil argued. “I’m not asking for State Secrets on him here [Y/N]. I’m just asking for a head up on his mental state.”

“Get him a shrink then if you’re so worried. But I’m not doing it!” This conversation was over as far as you were concerned, so you turned to leave and meet back up with Mark.

“Everything ok?” Mark asked when he saw you. Immediately noticing your annoyed and angry expression.

“Oh, yeah. I’m fine.” You tell him. Quickly schooling your features into something softer. “Just some new thing Cecil wanted me to do for training. And I was like ‘agh…oh my god…enough already…I yield’.” Mark laughed at your joke and kissed your cheek as he re-linked up your hands.

Your smile back to him was a little jilted as you debated on telling Mark what actually happened. It would hurt his feelings to know that the people he was working so hard for him didn’t trust him. That, in the end, despite everything he had done, they still thought he was like his father. But didn’t he deserve to know that the people he was working for didn’t trust him? You weren’t sure what the right answer was.

In the end, you left it alone for now. You weren’t sure if it was the right answer or not, but you just didn’t want to deal with it. You weren’t going to spy on Mark, so what else could they do?

quiet weekends with choso. neither of you have to deal with any missions, plus yuuji is safe with his teachers so choso is free from the responsibility of being an older brother for just a little while.

door locked, phones on silent; it's just you and him at his apartment. comfortable clothes, warm meals that you cook together, lots of laughter as you stand next to him over the sink and help out with dishes. plenty of cuddling, naps, and soft touches while watching movies on the living room couch. resting in the bath he prepared for you while he sits near the tub and talks to you about anything and everything. taking a break from telling your own stories to kiss him, because he's adorably staring at you like you hung the moon and the stars and he's so fucking in love with you.

wearing his hoodie to bed because even though you're sleeping next to him, it's not enough; you want to be fully consumed by his scent and everything else that makes him so wonderful. long conversations in the dimly-lit bedroom as it rains outside. him pulling you closer and whispering just how much you mean to him. sex so gentle, loving and so intimate that you nearly cry because it feels so good and he makes you feel so safe. falling asleep to the feeling of being so treasured, and waking up to him cuddling you. his hair is messy and he's barely awake, and he's softly kissing you and telling you to go back to sleep because he can tell you're still tired.

him watching you sleep, silently promising to you that in the future, you'll have more than weekends with him; you'll have forever with him.

At the Emperor’s Word -Viktor x Reader x Jayce

Summary: Sneaking around the academy after hours sounds like a good idea right up until you get caught; then, it becomes a great idea.

Pairing: Dom!Viktor x Sub!Reader x Switch! Jayce

Word Count: 6K

Warning: Explicit (PwP)

Tags: Threesome, Kissing, Handjob, Voyeurism, Obedience Kink, Praise Kink, Slight Cuckolding, Edging, Degradation, Dom/Sub Dynamics, Masturbation, Voice Kink, Vaginal Fingering, Lap Sex, Light Punishment Kink, Big Dick Viktor, Pet Names, Begging, Slight Choking, Vaginal Sex, Teasing, Rough Sex

Notes: A little fashionably late, but here is my absolutely filthy piece in celebration of Viktor’s birthday 🎉!! Viktor, my dearest, thank you for being my beloved husband and the devoted father of our many children. Glorious ovulation everyone ✌️💕.

You try to stifle a chuckle.

“Jayce, we can't-”

He's warm, so warm. You always feel yourself melt under his touch.

“C'mon, just a minute…” he insists.

You can't help but giggle breathlessly as he brings your hand into his pants, a large hand wrapping your fingers around his already half-hard cock. His body presses yours against the workbench, the firm wood digging into your lower back. His other hand slides against the fabric of your skirt, cushioning the strain, and not so subtly placing his palm over your ass.

He nuzzles his face against the top of your head, letting out a pleased groan when your fist starts moving. You suppress another laugh, trying your best to remain quiet, but you're positively enamoured of those sounds he makes when you touch him. Without even seeing his face, you know the content smile hasn't left his lips; he's so easy to please.

He's twitching under your grip, gripping your cheeks to the rhythm of the strokes. You quicken the pace, and he lets out a low moan that echoes through the empty lab.

This wing of the academy is always empty at this time of night, but there's something exciting about having to stay quiet. You can feel how close he's getting, the slight rutting of his hips a now familiar sign. His breath hitches, he's almost there, just a little more-

“I hope I am not interrupting anything.”

You yelp in surprise, pulling out your hand from Jayce's pants so fast your arm hits the wooden desk behind you. Jayce lets out a confused, frustrated shout at the sudden loss of friction as you wince in pain.

There, at the entrance of the lab, stands a looming figure, holding one of the large doors partially open. The light from the corridor obscures his face from the darkness of the lab; but there is no mistaking who this silhouette belongs to.

Viktor makes a single step forward, the metallic sound of his crutch against the tiled floor making you wince, as he lets the door close behind him. The room falls into obscurity again, the pale glow of the moon and the distant city lights only faintly shining through the windows.

“Ah, Viktor!” Jayce almost bellows in an overly cheery tone, walking backwards to put some distance between the two of you. “I- We were waiting for you! Got a bunch of interesting notes about today's experiments to show you !”

Viktor's face is blank, his eyebrows slightly furrowed in cold annoyance. He is neither amused nor does he seem the believe Jayce's jovial act. He nods curtly at the other man's pants, which are obviously, painfully unbuttoned. Jayce cringes as he quickly stumbles to reattach them, sliding the buttons in the wrong slits. You're frozen in place, eyes wide in fear, incapable of looking away from Viktor's frigid expression. But his focus is not on you; it's on Jayce.

“So,” he starts loudly, not bothering with whispers, “You barely spend any time working in the lab anymore. You have not even checked any of the upgrades I have suggested for the hexgates in the last month.” His voice is apathetic and dry, and his eyes narrow when he says the next words:

“And this is what you've been up to?”

Jayce opens his mouth like he's ready to argue, but the glare from his work partner seems to change his mind. He lowers his head silently, like a puppy being scolded. Viktor's golden pupils slide to you, and you now understand exactly why Jayce prefers looking at the floor.

“From Jayce I could expect,” Viktor remarks, the weight of his stare making you shrink, “but from you? I'll admit I'm disappointed.”

You bow your head in embarrassment. Your cheeks are burning, and you know there's no way to pretend like this is only a misunderstanding. You wish you could vanish on the spot.

Jayce, always the hero, comes to your defence quickly: “Viktor, it wasn't her idea-”

“I'm so sorry sir,” you interrupt him, stepping forward. You know Viktor well enough to recognize he's not a fan of poor excuses or avoiding accountability. “I swear this internship means the world to me. I know how many other students dream of working on hextech. It won't ever happen again.”

He seems pleased by your answer, although his expression stays perfectly stoic.

“That's good to hear,” he hums, walking closer to the both of you. He stops a few feet away, a ray of moonlight passing through a coloured beaker catching in his auburn hair. It illuminates him in an eerie, reddish glow, like he's not quite human, almost a phantom. “Well then, do not let me stop the both of you. Keep going, as you were.”

You have to assume he's joking, even if his tone sounds anything but, and you let out a confused, nervous giggle. But he isn't laughing, and neither is Jayce.

“Viktor…” there's uncertainty in the taller man's voice. It's not fear, or alarm, but he's apprehensive about something.

Viktor lets out a small sigh of lassitude, discontent evident. He looks at you again, with these amber eyes that make you feel like the world around you vanishes. Like there's nothing but him, and the words about to leave his lips.

“It would appear my partner is suddenly hard of hearing. Were my instructions unclear to you as well?”

You swallow. Your lips feel dry. Jayce is still unmoving next to you, still as a board, watching your interaction with his lab partner with an uneasy look.

“…No sir,” you mutter, just loudly enough for both men to hear. Viktor gives you the shadow of a smile.

“C'mon Viktor, you've humiliated her enough,” Jayce argues softly, raising his hand in a gesture of peace. But the other man has clearly decided Jayce hasn't gained his favour for the night, barely sparing him an icy glare.

“I do not believe I was talking to you,” he states matter-of-factly. The man of progress makes a strangled sound of protest, clearly insulted, but Viktor seems to have all but forgotten about him, now. It's back to only you and him, and the teasing smile dancing on his lips.

“He's always like this. Begging for attention,” Viktor tells you in a tone of confidence, like the topic of the conversation isn't standing less than a foot away from you with a baffled look on his face. “One has to wonder if he is compensating for something, but I figure you are in a good position to tell, right?”

You can’t prevent the corners of your mouth from lifting at the underhanded jab; Viktor seems emboldened by your reaction, voice louder when he continues:

“I certainly hope he's been more of a gentleman to you than this. Or does he only bend you over in our lab like an animal?”

The comment is enough to pull Jayce out of his stupor, and he raises his arms in protest.

“Hey, I'm not that-” he starts heatedly.

“Jayce.”

It's just his name; nothing else. You've said it to him hundreds of times. But there's something different in the way Viktor says it, the slow pronunciation of the syllables, the hardness of the accent, the deepness of the voice. Whatever it is, Jayce is compelled by it just as much as an order. He stops right in his tracks, his arms falling uselessly back to his side, like a dog listening to a command.

Viktor hums in approval, but his stare is no less punishing.

“I was not talking to you. When it is your turn to speak, you will know.”

Jayce's mouth is slightly agape, his eyes wide, an expression you can't quite read on his face; but he obeys. He stands there like a puppet, unmoving, drinking Viktor's words. You can't help but notice the still present strain in his badly buttoned pants.

The thinner man's gaze softens once more as it falls on you. He makes another step forward; close enough that you could reach him with your hand if you tried. He looks at you encouragingly: “Answer the question, sweet thing.”

The room feels like it's shrunk to barely a tenth of its size. Your breath has become shallow without you noticing. But isn't quite from fear anymore.

“T-twice in the lab before,” you stutter, the embarrassment of recounting your adventures to your direct supervisor burning your cheeks. The arousal in the air is undeniable now, and he's visibly aware of it. “And in the library. Once in my bedroom.”

Viktor hums pensively, studying your answer. It almost feels like you're passing some kind of final exam; the world's most sexually charged exam, undoubtedly.

“So he is aware of the basic notion of privacy behind closed doors, then,” Viktor concludes, the thin smirk now fully on display. “Who would have thought.”

He doesn't look away from your eyes when he finally speaks to the other man again.

“Jayce. How close are you?”

You glance at the taller engineer; he's started palming himself through his pants, his breathing irregular. His hair is dishevelled from your previous activities, and his cheeks are a bright crimson against his caramel skin. He's usually so dominating, on top of things, handling you like a chiffon doll up and down his dick with that cocky smile of his. You've never seen him like this; flustered, desperate, seeming so small despite all of his stature.

“Pretty close,” Jayce almost moans out, voice raspy for exertion. He's biting his own bottom lip so tightly it might start bleeding. “Just a little more.”

Viktor finally gives him a slight smile, though it's dripping with self-satisfaction. He's close enough to you that you can smell him now, that you could brush away the wayward strands of hair on his forehead. His face has been marked by the passage of time and countless hours of work, heavy bags under his eyes, cheeks almost gaudy. And yet, there is no sign of him ever losing control of this moment. Nothing could change the hypnotic power of his eyes, the controlling tone of his voice, or the subjugating effect of his slightly crooked smile.

“I suppose we should oblige,” he suggests lightly, his free hand brushing your cheek. His fingers are thin and lithe, cold against your skin, and you lean into the touch. He gives you a moment to pull away, if you want to; but you don't.

The kiss is slow at first, gentle, just the way little girls dream their prince charming might one day give them. He lets you decide when to pick up the speed, and you initiate after a few seconds by slipping your tongue in his mouth. It's messier, now, teeth clashing every now and then, saliva pooling where your lips meet. He tastes nothing like Jayce, his flavour of dark coffee and fresh mint; Viktor is sweet, like milk and honey, like a slice of lemon cake in the summer heat.

When he pulls away for air, you feel like time has started to move once again, as if you've just emerged from a dream. He's smirking confidently, still, but not entirely unfazed; his pale cheeks have turned pink, his breathing is slightly laboured, and there are traces of smudged saliva on the corners of his mouth.

A foreign whine makes you both turn towards Jayce, who is clearly on the edge of orgasm. He's abandoned any pretence of innocence, his cock fully pulled out of his pants as he rubs it furiously, eyes locked on the two of you.

“Stop,” Viktor only says.

Jayce groans in frantic frustration, slowing his rhythm but incapable of removing his hand. He's harder than you've ever seen him, his tip almost a painful red.

“No, no, c'mon V, don't do this. Please keep going,” he begs, looking at you with pitiful eyes, pleading silently. You want to touch him, to let him touch himself. But you know it's not your decision; it's Viktor's. And he's made his ruling, so you're not about to get on your research director's bad side again.

The head engineer offers a proud smile at your lack of answer to Jayce, the kind he usually reserves for reports submitted in advance or ingenious schematics. You recognize him more like this, strict, but never unappreciative of your efforts. He never forgets to slip a word of encouragement when you're stuck, never hesitates to reread your notes with you when the math isn't quite adding up. The cold anger seems to have fully passed, and now only the teasing, taunting satisfaction remains.

“I believe you may have forgotten that as per her contract, she is my assistant. Meaning she is under my direct command.”

He's looking at Jayce now, whose hand is still wrapped around his length, but unmoving. His cock is twitching in his grasp, desperate as the rest of him. His whole body shifts to the rhythm of his respiration, large shoulders slumped in defeat. Viktor doesn't turn to you when he asks you the following question, choosing instead to stare deeply into Jayce's citrine eyes.

“Is that not correct?”

You don't hesitate with your answer this time.

“Yes sir.”

His focus is still on the other man, but he strokes your cheek again with his left hand. He rests his weight comfortably on his crutch, like he doesn't have a single worry in the world in this moment.

“Good girl.”

You feel yourself tighten at that. That voice could tell you to find a way to harness the power of the goddamn stars before figuring out the hexcore, and you would comply.

“Jayce, could you bring the chair over here? The larger one.”

Viktor points with his chin towards a wooden chair with a flat backing, in a corner of the lab. Jayce looks back and forth between the chair and his partner, like he's unsure if he's joking or testing him. When no additional directions come from Viktor, he sighs in discomfort, clearly disgruntled, unceremoniously shoving himself back in his pants to go fetch the chair. The thinner man hums in appreciation when he brings it back and places it next to him.

“Thank you, Jayce.”

He sits, using his crutch for balance as he shifts slightly to find a comfortable position. His hand leaves the burgundy handgrip, instead settling on the metallic upper section. He looks like the king of a forgotten kingdom, resting on his wooden throne, sceptre in hand. You and Jayce, his obedient consorts, can't do anything but await his next command.

It comes in the form of a simple motion of his hand, beckoning you closer. You only stop when your legs bump against his, standing above him. His fingers caress the fabric of your skirt studyingly, like he's committing the feel to memory. They eventually catch on the waistband, tugging it questioningly. His golden eyes look up at you, the colour of the sunrise etched in his pupils. You nod earnestly in approval, and he lowers the skirt down until it reaches your knees, letting it fall to the floor. You're suddenly very thankful you dressed up this morning knowing you would see Jayce.

The design is simple, a line of flowery lace hugging your hips, and curving to the shape of your ass. It's the kind of thing Jayce loves; he'll even make you keep your panties on sometimes as he fucks you, just pushing the bottom of the fabric to the side to fit himself inside you. It's the lace he can’t resist, you think, the way it barely covers anything and rests against your skin like a present for him to unwrap.

It doesn’t seem to have the same effect on Viktor, but you can tell he’s still appreciative, cold hand sneaking under the lace to squeeze a cheek firmly.

“This is fucking torture,” Jayce groans in complaint, standing still just barely a few feet away. He's obviously aware he's not supposed to interfere with the two of you, or to touch himself for relief, but the glistening sweat on his forehead and down the prominent vein on his neck indicates how difficult this is for him.

“And you should know better than to have sex next to a table covered in explosive materials and one-of-a-kind prototypes,” Viktor retorts, sparing him a slightly displeased glance. “What if you had broken something irreplaceable?”

Jayce seems genuinely embarrassed by that; he may not show it as often these days with how busy he is, but you know he still cares about the academy's research and the state of hextech.

“I'm sorry Viktor. I wasn't thinking…”

“I am aware you were not thinking. And that is exactly the issue. You forget how much of our profession relies on thinking, not talking.”

It's crystal clear that's going to be the end of the conversation, for now. Viktor's fingers slide to your hip, following the shape of the panties until your inner thigh. A small tap with a single digit tells him everything he needs to know.

“Look at this,” he smiles, taunting but affectionate, “Already so wet just from a kiss. Or was it the sound of my voice that did it, I wonder.”

Both, it's both, and every single thing that has happened in this lab since he entered it. You tremble when his finger moves slowly against the damp fabric, not quite oversensitive, but a little on edge.

“I, um-” Jayce hesitantly speaks up from the side. “I fingered her a bit earlier. I… think she should be alright?”

This time, Viktor doesn't reprimand him for talking; he seems surprisingly pleased, eyes boring into yours for confirmation.

“Is that so?” he exhales softly.

You nod breathlessly. Why is it always so difficult to talk when he's studying you like this?

The teasing finger slips under the fabric, gently making its way into you. You let out an involuntary sound of eagerness as he verifies if you've been loosened up, analyzing you with the precision of a machine. He removes the digit with a crooked grin when he judges you've passed, and you whine at the loss; it was barely anything in the first place, but it soothed the feeling of total emptiness in your core.

“Color me impressed,” Viktor declares, half genuine, half mocking. “I do not think I have ever seen Jayce do his work in advance.”

Said man groans in defeated complaint:

“You're turning her against me.”

Viktor lets out a wry snort:

“You do that well enough on your own. You touched her without even making her cum?”

He pats your pussy comfortingly, and you almost sing to the feeling. Your panties get lowered swiftly, and you discard them with little decorum. Viktor's assertive expression has softened enough that you feel emboldened enough to try to join in the banter:

“Jayce thinks foreplay is watching him get undressed. He's not exactly an expert.”

Viktor laughs at that, a charming and genuine sound, and you feel yourself glow with pride. The topic of mockery doesn't seem as pleased, his cheeks red, his lips thin:

“See? Told you. You've already worked your fucking magic on her.”

Viktor starts unbuttoning his pants, the teasing smile still etched on his angular features. His fingers work nimbly, swiftly, with the precision only the best engineer in Runeterra could muster in such circumstances.

“It is not magic, Jayce. Simply talent and practice.”

He does quick work of lowering his pants, just enough to expose his underwear. The confirmation that he is indeed not as unbothered as he still may seem is poking through the fabric. Judging by the defined outline and the sizeable tent, you can instantly confirm a hypothesis you've had since the start of your internship: the Assistant to the Dean of the Academy is packing.

He's not unaware of it either; his golden eyes follow the movement of your own, playfully examining your reaction. It's different from Jayce's endearing ego and constant need for praise; Viktor knows his worth, but he revels in the admiration, the stares filled with awe and devotion.

If Jayce needs to feel worthy, then Viktor needs to feel wanted.

He finally frees his cock from the restrive fabric, letting the member bob slightly. He's not even fully hard, and he's huge, the length imposing, the bulbous tip a pleasant shade of pink. The skin is as pale as the rest of him, blueish veins marking it like porcelain; only a few well-trimmed auburn curls at the base remind you he's not sculpted from actual marble.

Jayce lets out a low, tentatively playful whistle as the other man’s slender fingers wrap around the shaft.

“Flattery will not get you far, Jayce,” Viktor comments absentmindedly. “You and I both know this is nothing you have not seen before.”

He moves his hand in an open, loose fist, evidently without any real intent to finish himself off; not with the way he's made you stand right above him, not with how he's looking right at you. You swallow with difficulty, licking your lips for moisture. The energy between the two of you is tangible, electric, as he keeps working himself tantalizingly slow.

“Darling. Sweet thing. Do you want this?”

You nod vigorously, the words stuck in your throat again.

“Tell me, then. Please. Tell me how much you want this,” he requests, and it's hard to tell whether that's an order or a plea with the way his voice lowers, just barely louder than a whisper.

You feel like you're high, your mind a jumbled mess of adrenaline and lust. There are no sentences that could possibly express how he's got you under his spell. How many times have you imagined a scene like this, in only a year of being his assistant? The stolen glances, the passing touches, you had no reason to believe they were anything more than figments of your lustful imagination. The very idea that he could be the one doubting your interest in him is laughable, and yet his gaze is probing you for a response, his lips parted with bated breath.

“I want this. I want you,” you swear to him, staring back so deeply into the amber irises there could not be a single question left. “Please, sir.”

You bring a hand to the crook of his neck; the coolness of the skin under your palm, the sharpness of his collarbone against your fingertips, the beating of his heart below your thumb. He has to know this is real.

Viktor smiles slightly, the little mole above his lips shifting alongside his dimples.

“I would ask you to be weary of my right leg, then. It is not quite as strong as it used to be, although that is not saying much.”

You've never seen the emotion that crosses Viktor's face in that moment, gone in under a second. It's so subtle one might have missed it; bitterness, regret, defeat. The tragedy of a man brilliant enough to change the whole world, but who wouldn't live long enough to see it. If Janna truly watches over the lost children of Zaun, then she is turning a blind eye to the brightest of them all.

You could say something, try and comfort him, but you choose not to. There's nothing that can be said to change things; there’s only the present, and there are only actions.

You sink down on him slowly, the both of you moaning in unison. You can't help the array of whines escaping your pinched lips. The heat from where your bodies meet is overwhelming, the stretch delightful and filling. He's not fully inside you and you're already wondering how much more you can take. It's dizzying, the pain making you grit your teeth, but you persist, fingers clenching on the back of the chair. When you've fully bottomed out, you let out a shaky breath you hadn't realized you were holding. Viktor soothingly pats your back, and you hang on to him for dear life, wrapping both arms around his back.

“Are you alright?” he whispers softly, worry evident in his voice. You want to answer, but you're quite certain if you open your mouth you'll only get confused gibberish out, because fuck, he's filling you so much it's hard to even think. You shift your grip to his shoulder blades, trying to anchor yourself, absentmindedly noticing the cool feeling of metal under his uniform. You trace the intricate patterns with your fingers to ground yourself, recognizing the shapes of bolts and screws, as you feel your breathing slowly even out

“I’m ok,” you eventually manage to exhale. “I just- need a second“

Viktor makes an understanding hum, his hand caressing the valley of your back like you're doing with his, his strokes mellow. He moves his head slightly to look at Jayce behind you, throwing him an irritated glare.

“So much for your preparations,” he points out with irony.

Without needing to see him, you know exactly the kind of disgruntled face Jayce is making: “She only needs three to fit me, you're just stupid big.”

“I can move,” you interrupt them, the pain now only a vague tingle; all that remains is the yearning for him.

You place both hands on the back of the chair to balance your weight, being careful of Viktor's weaker leg. You bring yourself up slowly, tantalizingly, before letting yourself fall back on his length. There's no other way to describe the broken moan you release than dirty.

“Eh,” Viktor remarks slyly, groaning when you start moving again. “S-she does not seem to think it’s stupid.”

You fuck yourself on him with abandon, fast, rough, not caring of how debauched you may look. If anything, Jayce seems very appreciative if his moans and curses are any indication.

“Fuck, baby,” he pants somewhere behind you, too far to feel his warmth, but close enough to hear he's pumping himself to the same rhythm you're riding Viktor. “You're doing such a good job taking him, princess…”

He's truly begging when he calls the other man's name again, delirious from the unending edging:

“V, please, make her turn to my side, I have to see her face.”

Viktor's hooded eyes bare into yours, his raspy pants echoing through your head as you thrust up and down his length.

“Do you think he is truly sorry, now?” he asks, the ever-teasing glimmer in his pupils shining despite the clear physical effort from his body.

You can't even remember what Jayce has to be sorry for; you whimper a positive ‘huh-uh’. Viktor nuzzles his head in the crook of your neck for a moment, gently bitting the sweaty skin in a surprising hint of possessiveness, but he does finally agree to free Jayce of his torture.

“I will trust your good judgment. You can come here, Jayce.”

You yelp in surprise when two strong but familiar hands suddenly grab you at the waist and turn you around, almost pulling you off Viktor's cock and into a messy kiss. The slight tickle of Jayce's stubble is pleasantly itchy, his tongue desperately searching for more of your taste. You moan wantonly against his mouth when you feel Viktor twitch inside you, but the man under you doesn't seem fully pleased: a thinner but firm hand brings you back against his chest, and he throws Jayce an irritated glare.

“I give you an inch and you take a mile. Typical,” the older man accuses him with a bitter tone, his accent more pronounced, rigid. “You do not get to touch, and you are only allowed to cum on her.”

His lips come to your ear in the ghost of a kiss, velvety smooth:

“Would that be agreeable to you, sweet thing?”

You just know you want to keep going, really; so you do exactly that as a reply.

This position is harder for movement, since without the support of the chair’s back, you would have to rely on putting pressure on Viktor's knees. Thankfully, with Jayce’s proximity, you can use his muscled chest for balance. He certainly doesn't mind being used like this if the expression he’s wearing is any sign: his entire face is crimson, his eyes heavy, laboured breaths escaping his abused lips. He's still following your pace, pumping up and down every time your ass meets Viktor's hip bones. It has to be painful by now, with the way he's been rubbing himself raw for so long without release, but he's either too entranced to care or getting off the burning friction

“So obedient,” Viktor praises you, his free hand moving to your lower stomach, long fingers digging gently into your skin; you wonder if he’s trying to feel himself move inside you. “We might still be able to make a top student out of you. What do you think, Jayce?”

Much like yourself, Jayce seems beyond the capacity for words. He's looking at you like he wants to devour you, like he wants to take you off Viktor's lap and fuck you right on the floor. But you both know he wouldn't do that without Viktor's approval, at the risk of getting on the other man’s bad side again.

Viktor's cock hits a peculiarly sensitive spot inside you and you cry out from the sudden shock, loling out your tongue involuntarily. Jayc makes a strangled sound at the sight, and it visibly takes all his self-control to not shove himself into the warmth of your throat.

“For once, I cannot get you to talk when I actually want you to,” Viktor tsks in disapproval, but it's clear he's not frustrated; rather, he seems to enjoy the trance-like silence Jayce has been reduced to.

“F-fuck, I think this is the hottest thing I've ever seen,” the younger man sputters, delirious, his fist moving with a frenzied pace. “I can see your cock in and out of her every time she bounces like that. Her tits look so good…”

You recognize that slight pitch in his voice, the rumbling in his throat; he's close again.

“What else?” Viktor hums, not letting him have a moment of respite. You can hear ragged gasps next to your ear, parts of heaved curses indicating he too is nearing his end, but he's still firmly insistent on being the one in control of it all.

Jayce whines in struggle, but it's hard to hear with how loud the sound of your own moans echo in the room. You've been using Viktor's cock to hit that one spot over and over, chasing your high without restraint, the familiar clenching of your walls maddening.

“She looks all fucked out. Like she -fuck- like she's so close to cumming around you…”

The other man seems pleased by that if the way you feel him twitch inside you is evidence. “Good observations,” he replies in playful irony. “Perhaps there is still a scientist in there.”

The hand on your stomach leaves its comfortable position to wrap around your neck, the pressure light, just barely restricting airflow.

“Sweet thing,” he calls out to you once more. “You can pick up the pace a little. I want you to never look away from Mr Talis's eyes.”

It's a hard request to fulfill considering how badly you want to squint your eyes shut in the agonizing pleasure; but you try your very best, unshed tears of exhaustion starting to pool and blurying your vision.

The sight of you so desperately trying to obey Viktor's order to focus on nothing but him is what finally undoes Jayce, who lets out one final loud curse:

“Shit-!”

He cums all over your academy blouse with a shout, little droplets reaching as high as your chin. It barely takes three more thrusts against Viktor for you to join him, crying tears of relief as an intense wave of bliss rocks your entire body. With your limbs reduced to nothing but putty, your head falls forward in exhaustion, thankfully stopped by Jayce's strong torso; the fabric of his dress shirt feels like satin against your face, burying your sobs.

Viktor takes a moment longer to reach his peak, fucking into your exhausted body with concentration, thick eyebrows furrowed. It's too much, too rough, and you throw your head back to whine against his neck pitifully. He mutters something unintelligible under his breath before he finally unloads into you with a long groan.

“Shh, good girl,” he compliments you soothingly as his warmth settles into your core, kissing your neck leisurely in praise. “You have done so well.”

He bends your head back slightly more to catch your mouth in an open-mouth kiss, slow and tired, sloppy from your mutual exhaustion. Jayce groans, his hand somehow still on his softened cock, pumping it lazily; his stamina is utterly unbelievable.

“Okay, actually, this might be the hottest thing I've ever seen,” he comments hoarsely, absorbing the way your tongue dances with Viktor's with every inch of his capacities.

Viktor concludes the wet kiss with a small peck on your lips, smiling as your head falls back on his shoulder in fatigue, your eyes shut close.

“Because you managed to get yourself all over her?” he throws back at Jayce, as calm and confident as if he hadn't just made you go through the most intense orgasm of your life. “Your ego will never cease to impress me.”

The stars behind your eyelids are still spinning; you weakly try to move an arm, finding it almost completely unresponsive.

“Sir?” you ask, and you almost don't recognize your voice with how rough and broken it resonates in the empty lab.

“I think we have reached the point where you are allowed to call me by my name in private,” Viktor amusedly hums close to you.

“Viktor, I…”

You want to open your eyes, to look into his golden eyes again and see the way he looks right after sex, but they're sealed shut from how worn out you are. “…I don't think I can move right away.”

That earns you a content chuckle from one man and a disbelieving laugh from the other.

“Jayce,” Viktor asks, now with a tone of request rather than command, “be a gentleman for once and carry her to her bedroom. The poor thing is exhausted.”

Jayce snorts, for once tonight the one hitting back with irony:

“And whose fault is that?”

Viktor’s fingers, still loosely wrapped around your throat as lightly as feathers, slide down to massage the tender muscles at the base of your nape. You moan brokenly into the touch. You couldn't move even if you wanted to.

“Undeniably yours. I am not the one sneaking around in the academy for nefarious purposes,” Viktor retorts playfully, tiredness noticeable but skillfully hidden in his voice. “But if you were to have a bad idea like this once more… I believe I can offer you my services as her supervisor. For both your sakes.”

No cheaters here!

pairing - jjk boys

genre - pure crack + fluff

warnings!! - a little suggestiveness in Geto and Sukuna's parts but otherwise pure fluff

a/n - basically that trend about "how do you know for a fact that your boyfriend won't cheat on you?" I remember that one girl with her boyfriend who was obsessed with Pokemon, and then I thought of him being Yuuji, and here we are. These are really short, so like mini mini drabbles each.

Yuuji

"Babe? Can you explain the plot of Human Earthworm to me again?" You asked, sitting in bed with your phone camera pointed towards your boyfriend. He quickly swivelled around his gaming chair, abandoning whatever game he was playing to give you all his attention with the biggest grin imaginable.

"Movie order or timeline order because there's a huge difference babe. Movie order goes from main story to spinoff to sequel then another spin-off which actually plays more like the actual first part but not really and if you do it in timeline order you should actually start with the plot of the fourth movie because-" He rambled, getting up from his seat and walking about the room while gesturing his arms.

You hummed and nodded along to his words, trying to hold back your clear amusement at his excitement to your interest. "You can stop now baby, thank you for sharing." You chuckled, watching as he stopped right in his tracks. He looked confused but smiled nonetheless. "Anytime babe! Anything else you need?"

"Nope!" You chirped, blowing him a kiss. He grabbed your air kiss and held it close to his chest with a wide grin. Yeah, you could never mistrust that absolute dork.

Megumi

No words needed to be said as you tilted the camera towards your chest, a mass of black hair obscuring the camera for a second. Your hand combed through Megumi's soft hair carefully, occasionally scratching or untangling knots you come across. You held the camera even higher, and it showed your boyfriend dozing on your chest with a peaceful look. You removed your hand from his hair, placed it on the back of the couch, and waited.

Megumi turned his head to look up at you, confused, not noticing the camera. He pouted, grabbed your hand off the couch and placed it back on his head. You waited a few seconds before a loud muffled groan rumbled on your chest and he turned his head to pout up at you again. You could barely hold back your giggles at his absolutely betrayed face and began scratching his head again with a kiss to his forehead. He sighed with a smile and turned to snuggle back into his earlier position.

He was probably going to be pissed once he saw the video and while you'd never post it without his permission, he was absolutely never going to live this down.

Gojo

"Hey babe, can I ask you something?"

Gojo glanced up from his cereal bowl of ungodly sugary proportions and swallowed, nodding slowly with squinted eyes. A little offensive since he was the one who usually came up with the weird questions on the regular. You barely held back an eye roll but decided to keep going.

"How much do you love me?" You asked with a sweet smile. You didn't have enough time to blink before he teleported in front of you, gripping your shoulders with a mischievous look. His pupils fought against the stark blue of his eyes like an expanding black hole just itching to consume his irises. A wobbly smile sat on his lips as he slowed his breathing to contain his obvious excitement.

He quickly started listing hundreds of details about you, each more unique than the last. You felt your heart swoon when he paused to grin at you and kiss your cheeks as he rambled on and on with a dreamy sigh every time he took a breath and continued.

The video went absolutely viral for obvious reasons, but hey, you had him, and they didn't, so who really won in the end?

Geto

"Babe, what are you doing?" You chuckled, positioning your phone against a vase on the kitchen island, a little way from your husband who was standing over the counter. He grabbed you by the waist and kissed your neck with a soft smile.

"The girls were talking about going out shopping later, so I'm writing a list for each of you. It shouldn’t take long, but if you want to change first, that's fine. The girls said they'll be down in a second."

You plucked the phone from his hands and looked down at the screen with a barely hidden smile.

"Suguru, this just says 'whatever my loves want, they get'. This isn't a list?" You giggled while tapping the screen, "Also this note was made literally the day we went on our first date??"

He pressed a kiss into your hairline and glanced over into the camera of your phone.

"Hm, but it's the truth, isn't it?"

The video went viral in less than a day. Eventually, you had to make another video announcing that no, you would not be sharing your husband or his hair routine. Figures.

Nanami

"Hey honey, what are you up to?" You chuckled from behind the camera pointed at your husband. He glanced up from his position on the floor, giving you an incredulous but amused look. He sat in a mess of screws, tools, planks of wood, and papers filled with instructions.

"I believe I'm helping you remodel the living room to fit with your new interests. You put this table in the cart a few weeks ago, and I was hoping I could get it finished before we go out for dinner tonight."

You made a confused sound and turned the camera on yourself for a second.

"We're going out? Since when?"

"You mentioned a new restaurant had opened down the street from your office. I decided to make a reservation for tonight. If you'd like to go shopping for anew outfit before then, my card is on the counter top and I've already taken your purse so no switching them."

Your mouth gaped open like a fish for a second before a weird mixture of a squeal and giggle bubbled out of you.

"You're so sweet Ken!" You cooed, putting the phone aside and launching yourself at your husband, giggling and kissing him off camera. It took a week for the video to lose traction and it caused at least two divorces during that time. Not that you knew that, you were too busy snugging up to your husband on your weekly date.

Toji

You were lying on your bed, tilting your camera to face your dozing, specimen of a fiance. A miracle in itself that you managed to convince him to marry you, but that was a thought for another day.

"Hey babe? Would you ever cheat on me?" You asked innocently, carefully holding back a laugh as he cracked his eyes open to look at you very unamused. He kept staring at you as if his expression were answer enough, but judging from your matched expression, you wanted a verbal one.

"No, I will never cheat on you, ya little brat. Do you think I got time for all that falling-in-love shit again? You're stuck with me for life, got it?" He grunted, reaching out and grabbing you by the waist to pull you into his embrace. "Now turn that stupid phone off and sleep."

You snickered and kissed his cheek on camera with a soft "Thank you for answering baby."

If your viewers saw him smile and blush, no, they didn't.

Choso

You tilted your camera to face your boyfriend sitting on your couch. Your boyfriend sat with a pile of flowers, paper, ribbons, glue and other crafting materials, working intently with precise focus. His eyebrows furrowed tightly as he meticulously tied a mini bouquet together.

"Choso? What are you doing, love?" You asked from behind the camera, watching as your boyfriend looked up confused. When he noticed the camera, his eyes lit up with recognition, and he looked down bashful at his lap.

"Your little cousins said that they were jealous every time I bring you flowers when I drop by and that they've never gotten any flowers before so I wanted to make them their own for the next time we visit. Also, one for your mom because she's nice to me when we visit, and I wanted to say thank you to her for letting me date you." He said softly before turning back to his work with a slight blush on his cheeks.

His cheeks only grew brighter as the soft coo from you at his sheer adorableness.

Sukuna

You tried hard to hide your grin as you turned the camera towards your lover, glaring at some papers Uraume had left him. He always looked so hot while he was working, but right now, you had a mission to prove to the world that he was the biggest teddy bear ever. By the twitch of his eyebrow, you could tell he felt your eyes on him, so you decided to break the silence.

"Kuna, would you love me if-" you started before you were cut off by a long, drawn-out groan by your lover. He looked at you very unamused before dropping his pen and leveling you with a glare that would normally strike fear into anyone who dared look in his eyes. Except for you, of course. You thought it was hilarious.

"Yes I would love you if you were a worm, no I would not kiss my last ex to save your life because I would simply break up with you, kiss you and then claim you again, yes I would kiss you for a million dollars because you are the prettiest person in the world and no, you still can't hold it while I piss." He rambled off in a flat tone. You snorted and slapped a hand over your mouth as you nodded shakily. While you snickered at his attitude, Sukuna mumbled something about stupid humans and their even more stupid questions.

Yeah, I don't think he has the mental ability to look for anyone at this rate.

how they'd react when you wanted to sleep on the couch... just because.

fluff. light-hearted ft. gojo, nanami, sukuna, suguru, toji, choso

satoru

“baby scooch over.” a whispered voice along with a gentle nudge on the shoulder woke you from your dozed off state. “hmm?” you mumbled out, blinking your terribly heavy lids open although to no avail they’re begging to keep themselves shut. satoru glanced at you with a frown on his eyes with a pillow held close to his body. “scooch over baby,” he pleaded, kneeling beside the couch you’re currently lying on.

“go back to bed toru,” you said softly, tugging your blanket closer. “but you’re not there,” he whined, intertwining his hand with yours as he attacked it with kisses, not letting you go back to sleep, especially if it’s without him. “i thought you said you’re going to be fine?” you asked, jogging the memory of him being all smug while saying you could do whatever you wanted. “that was not me, i would never say that,” he said promptly and goodness you didn’t know before someone’s lips could turned that much downward. you chuckled breathily, knowing this will happen sooner or later.

you scooted over on the big couch, leaving him the space he’d been begging for. you could have sworn you heard a squeal before you’re wrapped in satoru’s warm hold, his head resting snugly atop of yours. “no sleeping on here anymore. not without me,” he said into your hair, kissing it softly.

❀

nanami

“but why, love?” he asked, having a hard time comprehending your wish to sleep alone on the living room only because... you randomly wanted to? you chuckled looking at his bewildered face, an expression of someone who’s probably racking his brain upside down thinking that he’s done something wrong. “ken, i promise it’s just because i feel like it and no reason other than that.” you cupped his face, planting a soft kiss on his nose.

nanami looked a little relieved, albeit sullen, hesitant in asking whether he could invite himself in or you wanted a little time for yourself. and when it’s finally time to sleep it’s becoming more obvious that your lover wasn’t going to make it easy for you.

“need any more blanket honey?” he asked tapping the head of the couch as he stood there a tad nervous, knowing full well you got everything you needed since he insisted to be the one to prepare it. pillows, blanket, a hot drink, he’s got it all for you. “i’m perfect here, ken. you can go to bed,” you said with a reassuring smile, yet it did the opposite effect to the man.

“can i be here until you sleep, my love? it’s just that i feel like i wouldn’t be able to rest properly until i see you do the same.” he stroke your cheek softly with his thumb, and when you leaned into his touch he knew he’s gone for you. that there’s no way he could be asleep if he went back to the bedroom in that moment—unless you’re with him, of course. though, he didn’t say this, he just continued combing through your strands of hair, loving the peaceful expression on your face.

and unfortunately for the blond man, when it comes to these things his thoughts were written all over his face. you already caught on the fact that he wanted to lie down with you there yet his wish in prioritizing your wants refrained him from speaking his. you laughed a little, feeling a burst of fondness towards the tall man.

“on a second thought, can you sleep here with me ken?” he moved as quick as the sentence ended, already making his way under the blanket. he sneaked a hand around your waist, pressing your body closer against him. “i was kind of hoping you’d ask,” he mumbled, slightly embarrassed. you snuggled closer to his chest, feeling utmost comfort as he rubbed your back gently.

“i know.”

❀

sukuna

not even ten minutes in trying to sleep on the said couch, sukuna had already carried you back towards your shared bedroom.

“but-“

“no.”

he put you on the bed gently, then he draped a blanket over as he tucked you in. sukuna has that look of a man who’s determined in keeping you there, and you already knew it’s a fight you could not win thus, you turned for another plan instead: pouting.

even until he got beside you as he rested his big hand on your stomach, you refused to look at him, crossing your hands in front of your chest. he sighed, “give me one good reason i should let you sleep out there,” he said exasperatedly. “cause i want some me time?” you claimed. even you weren’t sure why you’re battling him so hard on this.

“then have it here in this bed with me. you’ll get all cold later and cling to me later anyways. i’m just speeding up the process.” he replied, already closing his eyes.

“what a strange way of saying you couldn’t sleep without me,” you said, with a grin on your face. the feeling of his thumb moving against your skin brought you immense comfort, your impulsive plan long forgotten.

“if you already knew that then quit making it harder for me, brat.”

❀

toji

he stared at you who’s already making yourself comfortable on the couch, amused. “looking cozy there,” he said with a grin, a face of someone who’s up to no good. “yeah, it’s actually not ba-“ the sentence was cut off was your own squeal, toji had picked you up as he took your lying down position and put you top of him.

“you could’ve just asked first!” you fumed, hitting his bicep—which did more to you and it did him, how could one even get their muscle to be as hard as that? he just chuckled in response, putting a hand around your waist. “sorry doll, got too excited,” he said lazily, already seemed all happy, like he had all he needed.

and he did, with you close to him resting your head on his chest, knowing that you loved counting his heartbeat. the man was truly content.

“we really should get a bigger couch,” you mumbled. we should get everything you wanted, toji thought. but it’d be a bit much to say in the moment so instead he just continued rubbing your sides until you dozed off, plunging into the dream land.

“sleep.”

❀

suguru

“whatcha got there baby?” he asked, an easy smile on his face. there’s really no day with you where you didn’t make him tilt his head questioningly. “’m going to sleep here tonight,” you said, fluffing the pillow before lying down on it comfortably.

“okay, where’s mine then?”

“your what?”

“my pillow. you didn’t bring mine along yours?”

“oh well i just thought you’d want to sleep in the bed anyway?” you replied, and suguru looked like you just insulted him deeply. the couch dipped, he then lied down beside you on the same pillow, making him extra close as he embraced you. “i sleep where you sleep baby, you make me this way. i can no longer rest when i don’t get to hold you close like this,” he said softly, tucking your hair behind your ear.

you have a big smile on your face as he said this, inhaling his familiar scent as you put your arms around him. “that better not be a complaint,” you said, cuddling closer to the man.

“never.” he kissed your temple.

❀

choso

it seriously look like it killed him when he had to walk away from the room, leaving you to sleep by yourself on the couch. his steps were excruciatingly slow, taking as much time as he could in case you changed your mind.

“cho?” you almost laughed looking at the way he perked up, a hopeful expression on his face. “can you turn off the light on your way?” and it almost felt too cruel the way the sparkle on his eyes dimmed, his shoulders beyond slumped. he then practically had to drag his own feet before letting out a small nod.

you chuckled, couldn’t keep up with the teasing anymore. “i’m kidding baby, do you wanna get in here?” you lifted up the blanket, patting the empty space next to you. it was the fastest you’ve ever seen him, as he’s beside you in no time.

he clinged to you tightly, like he’s making sure as much of his skin made contact with yours, a satisfied smile on his face. his hair tickled your neck nicely, as you traced the area below his eye with back of your finger.

“next time you want something just ask, cho.”

Teahouse Jealousy

"He was honest about his desires. That is a swordsman who knows the shape of his soul."

~

Things have been building for a while. Mizu is happy to avoid the topic, in favor of focusing on her mission. Finding yourself exasperated, you accept some help from an unexpected source.

~~

A/N: ITS DONE, FINALLY. Fucking 7600 WORDS of slow-burn mutual pining, bad communication, and jealousy. But hey, I did manage to fit in some spice at the end, hey?

Anyway, this is my first actual fic on here, so lmk what you guys think? Should I stick to lists? :,)

WARNING: this is REALLY LONG. I'm very sorry.

TW: jealousy, mentions of murder, mentions of sex work, SPICE

For this outing, Mizu insists on the boy disguise, your least favorite. You greatly prefer it when you can pretend to be her wife (of course), or even possible meat for the flesh market–because then she plays it up, a hand on your lower back, her voice dropped to an extra raspy register. But that last one is rare; you know the cost that playing that role seems to take on her, and you don't encourage it, despite the tingles it sends up your spine.

And you certainly don't complain about the freedom the boy disguise gives you for movement. But it does limit your ability to speak, as well as blocking your ability to get close to her side…you would never admit the reason you don't like it, but your reproachful expression says enough. She huffs out a sigh.

“Nobody brings a maiden to a brothel. You'll make us look odd,” she tells you, in the tone of voice that brooks no argument.

You wilt further the second she mentions a brothel, zoning out Ringo’s anxious questions; it was bad enough clenching your fists and staying silent while those two women ran their hands over her in Kyoto; now she's actually seeking such a place out? Your stomach squirms. Kyoto, and every moment of that visit, are burned into your brain. You share a trepidatious look with Ringo. You vow not to leave her side for even a second.

~~

Your explicit instructions were to “just look flustered and don't say anything”. That's not hard. You avoid eye contact with the working girls, and stare down at the table while you all wait for Kaji. The atmosphere of sexuality is stifling; it mingles strangely in your stomach with your feelings for Mizu, leaving you feeling on-edge, paranoid about being caught out. You could almost believe that these women, of anyone, will be able to smell the desire on you at a single glance. You've got Mizu’s fingerprints denting the very clay of your soul.

Madam Kaji, when she appears, does nothing to set those fears at rest. Her voice may be melodic, but you can feel her eyes scrape over you like a razor, as if they could peel back your skin and see underneath. You do your best to mimic Mizu's flat stare; after this long traveling together, you usually manage rather well. You've even managed to shoo off a few bothersome pests of your own in the past. This time, though, there's a hard edge to her smile that makes you wonder how much slipped through.

~

For all Ringo says about an apprentice should stay with his master, you somehow seem to lose sight of him in the walk from the corner where you were sitting to the hallway Madam Kaji pauses in. You remain by Mizu’s side. You don't feel any scorn towards Ringo for this. Nobody could say he isn't as loyal as they come, but desire is a powerful force.

Desire. Need. It's why Ringo disappears, and why you don't. He has his own desires to attend to, and you can respect that. But there's nothing in this brothel that you desire more than what you're already standing next to.

Madam Kaji motions to a small pocket of light at the base of one of the hallway panels. There’s a pause. When Mizu doesn't move to look through the peephole, Madam Kaji motions in your direction. “Perhaps the gentleman's apprentice would like to show him that desire is nothing to shy away from?”

You freeze like a cornered deer, meeting her taunting gaze with wide eyes. Her expression says it all; there's a test in this somewhere, a challenge.

Where the hell is Ringo. Trust him to be gone when there's something he would actually want to do. Nevermind on that whole no-scorn thing! You're going to kick him next time you see him.

Your pleading glance at Mizu produces no reaction; she doesn't even look your way. She's simply glaring at Madam Kaji. Challenges have never bothered her; if she doesn't want to do something, she just doesn't. Ugh. Someone needs to do something.

You look through the hole.

…Hm.

Honestly…it's not that bad.

Strange, certainly. The men in ropes, the writing, but you find yourself privately siding with Madam Kaji; it's nothing shameful. Just more of what you had observed while waiting in the main teahouse room. They're not bothering anybody. You consider that there have been worse atrocities you've seen in your travels with Mizu, all the way back to your first meeting.

You shrug up at Mizu. It’s nothing she'll be interested in, nor that she needs to see. She just looks even more impatient at the delay, fingers tapping on her crossed arms. The expression she shoots at Kaji is her classic get on with it glare.

Smirking, Madam Kaji motions to the final peephole. By now, you've lost your hesitation. If you feel anything, you're relieved that this is the last one. This shuffling around on your knees is not only making them sore, it's embarrassing to do with two people standing silently over you, eyeing each other warily.

You peer in.

At first glance, it seems to be just a man and a woman–nothing so strange as the other ones. The man is dressed in dark blue, his hair tied up in a knot like Mizu’s. But then the girl turns to the man, pushing his yukata off his shoulders; it's not a man, but another girl, bared to the touch of the first woman. They kiss, bodies molding together with no hesitation.

You tumble back abruptly, eyes wide, feeling your face flush so fast that the skin on your neck is prickling.

“What? What?” Momentarily distracted from glaring, Mizu looks startled by your reaction. When you shake your head in silence, worried that explaining would give your secret away, she glares suspiciously at Madam Kaji. She's clearly bristling at your apparent distress, assuming you've had a trick played on you. She reaches down to haul you to your feet with a rough tug to your arm, shoving herself half in front of you. “What did you show-...him?”

Kaji’s eyes narrow a fraction at Mizu’s brief stumble on your pronouns, and she smiles, sharp as a knife. With a little click, she slides the peephole shut. “Desire. A complicated thing,” she murmurs in that teasing, seductive tone. “We are not always ready to face it when it first finds us.”

She slides open another full panel, revealing a pleasantly decorated little room. A couple of the girls are in there, already, setting up a table with ink and paper. They look up and giggle when they see you both, their eyes lingering on your flushed cheeks. You can feel them darken again under the scrutiny, and drop your eyes to the mat until the girls leave. When you hear the panel slide shut, you look up to see Madam Kaji’s eyes on you. As soon as you make eye contact, her gaze slide away, to Mizu.

She doesn't look at you again until the moment of Mizu’s proposal.

You both can see the moment that the refusal in Kaji’s eyes wavers, but something else flickers in their depths when she glances between you, and you know what's coming. She wants to talk to Mizu alone.

With Mizu's husky name your desire still bouncing around in your head, obliterating your every other thought but how much you want her, Kaji's desire to exclude you makes you want to bite the woman like a territorial dog. You take a half-step closer to Mizu as Kaji suggests that she take a walk with the gentleman “one-on-one”.

“Perhaps the gentleman’s apprentice would like to enjoy some of the pleasures of my teahouse while…he waits?” She asks sweetly, her smile warm and her eyes hard as gemstones.

Mizu looks at you expectantly, seemingly unbothered by this; she'd probably agree to making you wait on the roof if it got her the information she wanted. You shake your head instead, giving her a look of incredulity in return. Obviously no. When is she going to start trusting you to stay at her side? What do you have to do to prove yourself?

“I haven't got any money,” you reply cleverly, keeping your voice as hushed as you can to disguise it, your eyes flicking up to meet blue orbs like a challenge. You can't really refuse, given that you're playing at master-and-apprentice, but you can make it hard. She can't keep shutting you out. Not this time; now you have an excuse. What prostitute will keep you busy for no money?

A brief light of pure, gremlin devilment comes into her eyes–it doesn't happen often that her rare sense of play is roused, but from what you've seen, that never means good things for the recipient. You should have known better; Mizu never tolerates being maneuvered into allowing something she doesn't want.

She holds the money bag out to you with a little shake to jangle it, and you deflate visibly.

For a moment, there's an unspoken moment of confusion and communication both ways; at first, Mizu holds the money bag out with an almost teasing smirk, clearly indicating let’s see how you manage this one. She doesn't see any danger in it. You can always just sit in the room alone. She's only interested in making a point; this is about negating your excuse.

But when you slump with such an obvious air of rejection, the playfulness drops from her gaze, replaced with a bemused concern. She'll be back in a handful of minutes, why is it such a big deal? This isn’t your fight, you don't need to be here to begin with, much less be stuck with her every moment of the day. So… why does she feel such a pang at your hurt face? You in turn see the momentary flash of confused guilt in her eyes, before she drops the money bag in your hands.

It startles you. You didn't expect that she would care.

Madam Kaji, watching all this and not missing a single beat, says nothing. She claps sharply. Two girls pop out of what seems to be nowhere, taking your hand with an air of false promise in their eyes.

“Ooh. you’re a pretty one,” one purrs, tilting her head with carefully practiced flirtation.

“We almost never see any young and pretty boys,” the other concurs. It’s like being slowly engulfed by the coils of a very nicely perfumed snake. At Madam Kaji’s nod, you’re tugged away, looking over your shoulder at Mizu with a distinct air of betrayal. You fully expect her to turn away, but she keeps staring as the girls lead you back into the room, her expression unreadable.

Even after the door slides shut, she doesn’t move, listening to the giggling emanating from inside, her hand clenching unconsciously on the hilt of her sword. It takes a prompt from Madam Kaji to get her moving again. Face snapping into its usual scowl, she turns and stalks away, leaving Kaji to try and match Mizu’s longer stride in the confines of her kimono.

~

“So, pretty apprentice, what can we do?” Asks the one in green, her dark eyes sparkling as they flick to the money bag still clutched in your hand. “How can we serve your pleasure?”

As attached to Mizu as you are, you’ve never been flirted with by a woman before, and you can’t help the blush. But even that isn’t enough to distract you from the melancholy of being left behind like a pet yet again. Waiting in the cold for hours on the bridge to Shindo Dojo, left in town with Ringo in Mihonoseki, watching her leave with Taigen down that narrow chasm… You shake your head, mouth twisting in tandem with your guts. What if Mizu never comes back? You know the trick she played on Ringo; you giggled about it at the time, you recall guiltily. But you can’t track like he can, even if you’re faster than him. And if she leaves you alone for something like this, what is she planning for the actual attack on Fowler? Maybe you really are just a burden she can't figure out how to shake…

“Why so sad?” The one in gold asks, her sympathy syrupy-sweet. She puts a hand on your arm, but you shift away.

“I'm sorry,” You say, distractedly. You aren't watching your tone as well as you should be. “I would rather be alone. Thank you.”

Silence. They don't move to leave, nor do they try to further convince you. You look up from your despair after a moment, becoming aware of their lack of response.

They're both staring. Studying you. Then they look at each other.

Before you can parse why, the gold-clad girl suddenly lunges forward, catching you by the chin and jerking your chin up, staring at your neck. Your smooth, Adam's-apple-less throat.

“Hey!” You yelp, knocking her hand away; she lets you go readily, already smiling with a distinctly cat-got-the-cream air.

“So that's it,” she says, smugly. “I suspected as much.”

“Is it…?” The other asks fascinatedly. Your eyes dart between them, confused, forboding building in your gut.

“Definitely,” says the first. They both turn to you, looking amused and intrigued.

“Playing dress-up, girl?” Asks Green, smiling archly.

Oh….oh no.

You go cold. “I…I don't know what you…”

“Re-lax. You think you're the first to put on men’s clothing in here? Didn't you see the little show we put on for you?” Gold waves a hand dismissively, talking out over top of you.

“It happens all the time. So, what does your man want? To pretend you're a boy? A new flavor to try? Or some training for you?” Green cuts in, raking her eyes over you. “Is he selling you?”

“He’s–…not–...my man,” you stumble. How to even explain that tangle? Clearly they believe Mizu's disguise, if not yours. You're not about to spill any of those beans, more than you need to. “And I would never stay here.” You pause, suddenly hearing yourself, and bow apologetically. An aching heart is no reason to be rude. “Not that I mean to degrade your work. I'm sorry.”

Both women look at each other, then start to laugh. Clearly they've heard worse.

“Then why do you look so sad?” Asks Gold once her laughter has passed, and this time she sounds almost genuinely interested. She pets your hair, gentle, like an older sibling. “Come on, girl, you can tell us.”

You should just tell them to go. But the room is quiet, and warm, and clean, after months of shacks and forest camping and inns full of leering men. And gods… you're so tired. To unburden yourself to someone would be such a relief. You haven't ever been able to talk about these confusing feelings; the only confidant that you have is Ringo, and you do not trust him with that kind of conversational grenade.

Discretion is the whole point of this place right? There are far worse secrets that they must keep.

Green leans against your shoulder, and this time it feels less sensual, and more like a friendly touch. You're surprised by how it loosens a knot in your chest that you hadn't recognized until now. When was the last time you were hugged?

You sigh. “It’s a long story…”

~

As it turns out, it's a long enough story to require two pots of tea–and then a relocation, as the girls drag you back to the dressing room to re-tell all the juicy details to the rest of the girls.

It's…therapeutic, to bare your heart to a group of open-minded, half-drunk women. They’re clearly connoisseurs of gossip, and they make extremely good listeners; gasping in all the right parts. You can't help but enjoy it a little, finally just venting it all out, lounging with the ever-shifting number of girls as sake replaces the tea. Girls come and go from the room as they head to various clients, but except for one they call “new girl”, who keeps her face turned away from you, they all come over to listen for a while.

(As you're surrounded by girls, slowly explaining the tangled story of your time with Mizu, Mizu returns from her walk with Kaji to find the room empty of you.

She pauses, surprised by her own disappointment. She can't admit it to herself, but she had expected you to have shaken off the girls and be waiting for her. You're always there when she comes back. Something burns in the pit of her stomach to find you gone; after the heavy deal she just made, she has need of the comfort you bring her–not that she'd admit that to herself, either. The images of you, somewhere in the brothel at this moment, half-dressed and flustered, makes her stomach flip. But then she imagines you under some faceless nude woman and her throat tightens. She sits down with a thump in front of the mirror and removes her glasses, studying her own face critically. It must be nice for you to be seeing pretty women for once, instead of her…)

“But why him?” One finally asks, wrinkling her nose, as you pause for breath. She's in a pink kimono–you think the others might have called her Ise. “You're a pretty girl, even in disguise. You could do better. He's hardly a looker.”

Your head snaps up, frowning in offense. The girls giggle at your suddenly icy glare, all warning Ise to duck, and Ise dramatically throws her hands up in front of her defensively. “Alright, alright, don't get your sword in a knot. I'm just saying…”

A couple girls nod in agreement. “Those eyes…” one murmurs. The white-haired girl in the corner turns to glare at her as a few others titter.

“Like a demon,” another says with a shudder.

Your fingers clench against your thighs, brow darkening. “I think they're beautiful.” Your voice is quiet, but hard as stone; the girls all fall silent, looking at each other uncertainly. There's a world of emotion in your heavy tone; a sincerity that they know, better than most, is rare and precious.

It’s Ise that smiles, slowly, with a dark, wicked gleam in her eye. “Do you want an answer?” She asks you bluntly, making you forget your anger in confusion.

“To whether he wants you,” she clarifies with a sigh.

You hesitate. Do you? If the answer is no… gods, that will hurt. And you know in your heart that you won't stop holding out hope, even then. You'll stay. You'll keep loving her. So does it matter?

But what if the answer is yes?

Slowly, wordlessly, you nod, stomach clenching. Ise smiles wider, and reaches for your topknot. “I know a method that never fails.”

~

Mizu looks up when you slide the panel open a crack, brow plunged in a deep scowl.

“I said I didn't–...Oh.”

You duck your head, wordlessly apologizing, even though you’re not even sure why. She only looks marginally less annoyed, watching you come in and sit down against the wall. Ringo is there, too, and he greets you brightly, looking rather pleased with himself. His kimono is slightly askew.

“Where have you been?” Her tone is sharp, her eyes sharper, as she takes in the tousled hair and haphazardly tied clothing on you. The girls had agonized over exactly how much to tousle you. That had honestly taken up the most time.

You shrug a little sulkily, keeping your eyes down. Part of you wants to abandon the idea, now that you've gotten snapped at–is it worth the risk of antagonizing her?--while part of you is still upset at getting left behind again. But the thought of Mizu picturing you doing… that…is making you blush yet again. Ise had explained what they were going to imply you did, which gave you a mind full of images that you know will probably haunt you worse than they haunt their intended target. What if Ise was messing with you? This is never going to work, you're already botching it by getting flustered.

In your mind, your avoidance is a dead giveaway that you're being shady…but to Mizu, the tousled appearance and shamefaced blush give exactly the impression Ise planned, and her fingers clench again, until the knuckles crack. Her lips tighten and thin, but she says nothing further, turning back to the mirror with a faint huff. Silence descends, but there’s a strange tension to the air that even Ringo notices. He glances between you two, gaining the worried expression that always makes you want to immediately reassure him.

“So, how much of my money did you spend?” Mizu abruptly spits at you, as though she's finally thought of an excuse to be angry. There's an unusual amount of venom behind her tone, harsh enough that Ringo’s eyes widen and he sits up a bit straighter, while you shrink in on yourself a bit. Wordlessly, still avoiding eye contact, you reach into your haori and pull out of the money pouch, tossing it to her.

She can tell as soon as she catches it that you haven't spent a single coin. “...Hm,” she says again, heat immediately bleeding out of her voice as her expression lightens. She surveys your disheveled appearance again, quirking an eyebrow.

“So why are you–” she starts, before there's another knock at the door. The panel slides open a crack as Mizu heaves a loud sigh of exasperation, her eyes rolling.

But before she can reiterate yet again to leave her alone, two girls’ heads poke in, and they aren't looking in her direction. They're whispering and giggling, completely unprofessionally, nudging each other, and staring at you.

“That's him,” one points.

“No! Is it really…?” The other gasps.

Both Mizu and Ringo turn to look at you, mirrored looks of confusion on their faces. Your expression is that of a dog facing down a speeding horse cart, unable to move, wide eyed. You regret agreeing to this; you want to sink into the tatami.

Their next whispers turn all three of you into statues.

“Ise says she finished three times…”

“Didn't even charge him…”

“He never even undressed–”

Ringo’s eyes and mouth all drop wide open, looking avidly between you and the door. Mizu is… frozen. Her face has taken on that blank expression that you've learned has all the safety of a rumbling mountainside. You don't dare shift an inch, but you can't help but stare at her. Your eyes slide from her stricken face to her hands; they're slowly curling into fists. Is it… working?

More giggling from the hallway, and something thumps the panel. It sounds like there are more girls gathering in the hallway. Another head pokes in, gets pushed back, and more sounds of muffled tussling leaks into the room. It sounds like most of the girls in the teahouse are having a little too much fun with this; they're probably thrilled to get to act out a little.

“Don’t shove–”

“Let me see! I want a turn–”

“... haven't had an orgasm like that in forever–”

“I can't wait to have a good scream–”

Oh gods above. Your face is crimson. You should have expected that they would go straight to vulgarity. Ringo chuckles with surprised and impressed delight, thumping you on the shoulder with one wrist like a comrade. This is so embarrassing.

One of the girls, braver than the rest, managing to wrestle the others back, calls out, “Mr. Samurai, can we borrow your apprentice?” This produces an absolute cascade of giggles and more heads poke into the door again.

“Yeah, me next!”

“Only after me!”

“You don't need him tonight, right, Mr. Samurai?”

“We promise not to break him–”

Mizu finally moves, moving towards the door with a speed that actually makes your heart clench with fear for the prostitutes. They all fall back, a chorus of shrieks and yelps echoing in the hallway as she almost seems to abruptly materialize in front of them.

“We're busy.”

Oh.

Her voice is so frozen with fury that it's a miracle she doesn't breathe out icy smoke. It’s a tone you've only heard a handful of times, always followed by blood spattering across snow. You can feel that familiar twisting ache of mingled fear and arousal in your core that you've grown to associate with Mizu at her most deadly. But this time it's complicated by a second layer of blending; uncertainty–is she just irritated by these twittering women?--and hope, delicate, frail, slowly blossoming.

Is she…jealous?

She slams the panel closed hard enough that there's an ominous wood crunching noise.

Silence falls. You watch Mizu, warily, as she stands at the door, her fingers still white-knuckling the edge of the panel.

“Wow, what did you do?” Ringo demands. You turn to look at him, startled. You were so focused on Mizu's reactions that you almost forgot he was a second witness. “How does that even work?”

“U-uh…I…” Oh gods, what do you say? You didn't actually do anything! Your idea of arousing is Mizu standing over you after a spar, the tip of her sheathed sword digging into your throat, an icy, smug satisfaction in her eyes. What do normal women find titillating?

“Come on, you gotta tell me. I wanna get with prostitutes for free, too!” Ringo gives you puppy eyes. “How'd you do it without them finding out… you know.” He gestures at your clothing. “Was it your hands? Is that the secret?” He asks, holding up his wrists and looking at them worriedly, as though hoping that that isn't the answer. “Wait–” he squints at you. “Where did you even learn to do anything like that anyway–”

“No more questions.” Comes the snarl from the door.

You glance away from Ringo to Mizu.

She's still got her back to the room. Her shoulders are drawing up in a hard hunch, free hand clenching tight again. The rumbling from the mountain is getting louder. You're not sure whether you should be exulting that she actually seems bothered, or be worried about the upcoming danger if she pops. She's not usually the type to explode, but when she does…

You both fall silent, watching as her shoulders heave in one deep, steadying sigh, before she finally turns around. Her face is composed, back to its usual resting glare, and you feel a bit let down. Maybe she just found it all annoying. All that, for no real answers…

Ringo stays quiet long enough for Mizu to return to her seated position by the mirror, but you can see him fidgeting. Before long, he leans over closer to you. His voice is hushed, trying to be discreet. For Ringo.

“So was it a tongue thing, or–”

THUNK. Mizu’s fist strikes the lap table hard, hard enough to upset the elegant centerpiece. You both jump and turn to look at her, freezing in place.

“If you want to know so badly, go ask them yourself.” Every syllable burns, blue eyes blazing.

Ringo, undeterred as ever, leaps to his feet. “I will!” He chirps, padding quickly over to the door. There, he pauses, bowing to Mizu. “Thank you for the permission, Master.”

Mizu watches him leave, her glare never wavering. After the door shuts, she snaps her gaze back to you. Your heart beats a little faster, as ever, feeling that little tingle that comes with getting her focused attention.

“You.” She jabs a finger at you; you flinch. “You. Don't. Leave this room again tonight. And nobody but Ringo comes in. Got it?”

Oh gods, she's jealous, she has to be, she's actually–

Now probably isn't the time to be cheeky and point out that she didn't put herself on that list. You nod. You've never been so happy to be glared at before. She wants me here. With her.

“Of course,” you say. “That's fine.”

Her glare softens at your voice.

You can see the way her eyes flick to your mouth as you form the words, and your heart flutters again. It's real, it must be, oh gods above– no way that this is happening, no way– You open your mouth again, unsure what else to say, but wanting to reassure her, to tell her that here is the only place you want to be. But before you can do that, there's a knock at the door again.

Mizu’s eyes blaze. She actually growls this time, turning towards the door with the feral speed of the truly enraged.

“I said we're busy,” she snarls, whipping the door panel open hard enough that it rattles the entire wall.

You see her freeze, as a soft, delicate voice rings through the room. “May I serve you?”

A pit suddenly opens in your stomach at the absolute stillness in Mizu’s posture. Even from behind you can tell she's staring at the girl’s face. The voice is so pure, so sweetly feminine that you can picture the kind of face it must belong to; a perfect doll, sparkling eyes, symmetrical features, neat teeth behind full, petal-soft lips. No blemishes, no scars, no days of sweat and greasy hair after too long on the road. Your heart twists; finally, finally Kaji has found someone perfect enough to take even Mizu’s breath away, and your chance with her is gone.

Is this how your little trick made her feel? This pain in your chest must be karma come knocking. The second you're away from this brothel, you’re coming clean; you can always say they just wanted to prank her. But you won't leave her believing it truly happened. No more of this back-and-forth of jealousy–if it ever was that on her end.

But then maybe she won't care by then. And I would deserve that. This pain is wrong, it was wrong to bait her because you were too cowardly to be honest about your feelings. She may have given you moments of jealousy before but they were never intentional. And now–

Mizu takes a step away, turning away from the girl towards you as she walks back to her previous seat. Her expression makes you pause on your internal journey of self-pity. It isn't lovestruck, or lustful. Not a flicker of a blush; she's all business. Her eyes seek yours out, a split-second look that you know all too well. The look that comes with a new, unexpected layer of trouble.

Your eyes flick towards the girl, now revealed as she steps into the room. She's as lovely as her voice would have suggested, tiny, exquisitely made up. But it's not your accurate prediction of her perfection that makes you freeze just as Mizu had. It's that you know her, from that bridge in Kyoto. As before, your every memory of that trip is seared in.

You don't dare try to catch Mizu’s eye again; this might be a problem, but for the moment, the girl clearly doesn't realize her hand has been revealed.

Just like that, the jealousy and pining take a backseat, as they so often have on this shared journey. Once again, you and Mizu are a united front, dealing with a new threat.

And through the chaos that quickly devolves around you, clarity comes to you. You didn't need to play this charade. All this time, all the worrying about who feels what, when that look Mizu shot you a moment ago says it all. In the moment where things got serious, upset with you or not, she trusted you to understand immediately. In the moment of trouble, she looked towards you.

–

When she comes back from her mysterious task, you're waiting in the hallway, too restless to stand Ringo’s chatter and Akemi’s sniping. Akemi had heard it all, of course, in the women’s dressing room, and she wasn't going to pass up an opportunity to needle you, since she couldn't seem to needle Mizu effectively. You don't doubt she'll blurt the whole sorry tale out to Mizu at her first opportunity, and standing in the dark in the hall leaves you with little to do but fret about that.

It hasn't been as long as you would have expected, when she comes back.

You look up at the quiet footfall, and pause, heart clenching at the sight of her face in the shadowy hall. Mizu pauses, too, stopping a little distance away from you, as if afraid to get too close. She's carrying her hat under her arm, and her face looks…gods. You've seen her furious, cold, exhausted, conflicted, even amused.

This is something else, something worse than anything you've ever seen. She looks bereft, hollowed out, her eyes staring ahead as though looking at some horror no one else can see.

In that moment, you move without thought of rejection. Something in her face just calls to you, more deeply than words, drawing you together like magnets.

You push off the wall and step up to meet her.

“Mizu…?” You keep your voice as soft as you can. She doesn't raise her eyes. Instead, you can see the lids lower until they fall shut.

Slowly, you reach up to cup her face; you expect her to push your hand away, but you would have tried anyway. It’s your heart reaching out to touch hers in the only way you can, and it cannot be suppressed. In this moment, even though it's the closest you've ever been, you're not thinking about wanting her, only wanting to soothe her. Strange that your first moment of deeper intimacy should come from this clear pain, surrounded by the trappings of lust itself.

She doesn't fight you. When you bring your hands to the sides of her head, slowly pulling the glasses away, she lets you guide her face down to you, until her head is resting heavily against your shoulder. Her arms remain at her sides, hanging limp. When your hands cradle her head, her hair, she shudders violently for a second with a little choke, remembering the way she cradled another head, and then subsides.

You stand that way for a long time, in utter silence, utter stillness. The only movement is a very faint shivering that suffuses her frame. She's breathing slowly, with an exaggerated evenness as though deliberately forcing herself to do so. Your mind is racing; what on earth could have produced such a response?

Mizu… what did you do.

You already know you aren't going to ask, and make her relive it. Maybe someday, if she wants to unburden herself… but it doesn't matter now. It doesn't really matter at all; you know there's very little you wouldn't forgive her for. And you could see the regret in her eyes, that no matter what heinousness produced this, she feels no peace in the aftermath.

“It was a girl.” You can barely hear her.

“What?”

“I killed a girl tonight.”

Your heart constricts at her quiet voice. She says it tonelessly, unemotional, but you can feel her shoulders tensing under your hands. To her, this is the moment; you, seeing the monster that she is, pulling away, refusing further comfort.

“A girl?”

A faint shift of her head against your shoulder that might be a nod. A chill runs through you; she feels your shudder and braces for the shove, the exclamation of horror.

“Was it…necessary?” You ask slowly, instead, trying to understand. You've never known Mizu to kill an innocent before. There must have been a reason.

You can feel the way the question strikes her, unexpected. When was the last time anyone asked her about why she does what she does?

“...I don't know,” she says bleakly, her voice cracking.

Another long silence; the shoulders grow even more tense. She almost seems to stop breathing. You turn your face to her hair, silently, and feel her body go loose again. There's nothing you can say to fix this; only offer your steady presence.

“... Thank you.” This time the voice has a hoarse, shaky edge. You make a questioning noise, your fingers stilling. You hadn’t realized you'd been stroking her hair.

“For not…pulling away.” Her voice is growing quieter and quieter with each word; she turns her face harder into your shoulder, as though she can hide her vulnerability along with her face. “For not… thinking ill of me.”

“Never.” Your whisper is vehement, your fingers tightening against the back of her head.

“You should.”

You pause; the contrast of her gratitude and disapproval flummoxes you for a moment. You have no recourse but to be honest.

“I knew what this path would be when I chose to follow. I will not reject you for following your ember.”

You're shocked to hear a faint sniffle before she straightens, and even more shocked to feel wetness cooling on your shoulder. She hadn’t made a single sound of weeping; not a sob, not a hitch of breath. You saw no tear slide down her face.

Her expression is a different story; as stoic as ever but for those red-rimmed, haunted eyes. She’s still staring into the middle distance, unfocused. At the sight of her, your resolve snaps; you blurt it out. You can't fix this pain killing her inside now; you can only right the wrong you had done earlier.

“It didn't happen.”

“Mm…?” she looks at you, finally, but it's as if she is seeing someone else.

“The… the girls,” you stumble on your words for a moment. You want to be honest about what happened, but now doesn’t feel like the time to confess love, not when she's so wreathed in this empty sadness. You settle on, “I didn't do anything with them.”

She blinks, starts to focus a tiny bit. “Then they-…and you never…”

You shake your head.

She blinks, then blinks again. She doesn't look immediately relieved, at least not straightforwardly, but she looks strangely more alert. It's as if the weight on her shoulders was heavier, but it was a weight she was more willing to tolerate. Her brow pinches as she seems to think of something.

“I'm…sorry you had to look through those holes,” she says finally, staring down at your feet. Her voice is soft, barely above a breath. “You're… not meant to see all of this.”

“It wasn't so bad,” you reassure her. “I can handle it.”

She shakes her head impatiently.

“This isn't how you should be seeing…I'm…supposed to–…” She stops, looking confused by her own words. You stare at her in surprise. Supposed to what? Protect me? That would be a departure indeed from her constant insistence that you are here of your own free will, that she isn't responsible for you, that she isn't your protector… and so on.

You laugh a little, warmly. It's not funny, any of this, but there's a tiny bubble of something warm glowing in your chest, something that feels as though it's solidified between you, and the icy wall of uncertainty that plagues your every step has begun to trickle away.

“I can protect myself now, thanks to you,” you murmur, ducking your head a little to try to meet her gaze as she hangs her head. The next words are hard to say, but you want her to hear them. “And, truly…I don't think there's a better place in all of Japan than next to you.”

She looks up at you, eyebrows quirking up in surprise; it's the last sentiment she would expect to hear from anyone right now. The eye contact in this moment is lightning-sharp; a myriad of emotions run through her gaze, her face twitching through what looks like guilt, shame… and then a deeper, aching longing. The potency is as intense as every other emotion in her, and it arrests your very breathing.

You know. In that moment, you know; the trickle becomes a meltwater flood, soaking warmth through your ribcage. You’re pulled into the undertow of ocean eyes that glow in the cocooning darkness.

Her lips press together tightly as her eyes flick to your mouth as they did once, hours so. She looks suddenly lost; too emotionally overwhelmed by the events of the night to keep her walls up any longer. Distraction, validation, reassurance… human weaknesses she normally scoffs at. Tonight, her last rest before Fowler, before possible death, she'll let herself be human. She will seek comfort from someone that will touch her like she isn't a monster, confirm to herself that she can be capable of love, softness. That after her revenge, a happy life could be possible for her.

“I'm glad–...” her voice hitches as she leans closer to you, then sways back again, uncertainly. In the dark, her blush doesn't show, but the flustered expression is enough to make your heart suddenly race. “I'm glad that… you didn't. With them.”

You can't breathe. Your heart is in your throat; its rabbiting beat is making you shake so strongly with adrenaline that you have to force your teeth not to chatter. You've been waiting for so long, with never the slightest inkling of hope…

“...I am, too.” In the intimate darkness surrounding you, your whisper feels loud. Her gaze focuses in like a beam of burning light; your own expression says everything.

This time she steps closer again without flinching, and you feel like you might pass out. The hesitant look flickers across her again for a moment, before her brow suddenly furrows. You have a half second to recognize the familiar look of determination that precedes every risky move before there's a long fingered hand curling around your nape, and a pair of thin, sculpted lips on yours.

Oh.

It's as though every muscle in your body melts away in an instant. The second you lean into it with enthusiasm, you’re enveloped; her arms are like iron, clutching you tight. It's every bit as mind-numbing as you had fantasized; the taste of her lips is tea and copper, blood-hot as her tongue slips against yours. Mizu does nothing halfway. She kisses like she fights; overpowering, ruthless, clever and swift. Every twitch of reaction is caught and dragged free of you again and again as that famous adaptability is turned on you and achieving your pleasure. Her hands roam restlessly, mapping over the lines of your body, prompting a squeak when they suddenly squeeze tight, nails dimpling your flesh, before sliding on. You hope that every time her fingers sink in, there's a mark you'll see tomorrow, until she's littered every inch of your skin.

Your mingled breaths are loud in the silence of the hall. Your own hands are in her hair, slipping down her neck, reveling in the shift of the muscles in her shoulders; you can touch her now, you can touch her, she's kissing you, she wants you, gods above–

“Mizu…” You can't stop the soft whine, muffled by her lips; it thrills you to feel her shudder in response to it, her arms tightening around you with a hushed groan. The hand at the back of your neck grasps a hank of your hair like a handle, tugging your head to the side with accidental roughness. The pain sparks like flint against the heat building between your thighs, flaring it to a roar. Your little hiss is choked off by a gasp as she buries her face in your neck and inhales you, deep and greedy, indulging herself, before biting down hard on the soft skin below your ear.

Your grip on her shoulders tightens with a bitten-back cry, lust shooting through you like a grassfire. It runs molten between your thighs, softening your legs until your knees buckle–swift as an arrow, your world spins.

Your spine thumps into the support beam, her front molded to yours as she pins you against it; you can feel her heartbeat pattering against her bindings, the sharpness of her hipbones against your belly. Everything in your body pulses with one hard beat of desire; it thuds from your throat to your fingertips every time you hear that harsh inhale of her panting through her nose between kisses, the soft grunts of response to each slide of tongue and teeth. You don't notice your haori part until cool fingers slip along your ribcage. You flinch with a gasp, your back arching wanton and shameless into the touch. The husky chuckle at your ear makes your core throb so hard it hurts.

Your thighs tangle together without a care to your surroundings. “Ngh–” Another desperate, muffled groan vibrates against the side of your throat when you press your leg up between hers. Her hips spasm and buck, her groan fracturing into something soft and needy–“ah-...ahh”--breath puffing faster over your skin; there's a searing softness pressing against your thigh, already damp through the thick fabric of her pants. In response, the lean muscle of her own leg presses up between yours, hiking you higher against the wall until you’re spread across it, your own weight bearing you down against it with a cruel pressure to the very source of your ache. As you’re yanking her hair free with a high-pitched moan of her name–

The soft sssh-thnk of a door panel makes you both freeze.

“Master? Are you out here? I heard–...oh.”

Mizu slowly raises her head from your neck as you turn your head. Is this how you die? Of embarrassment?

Ringo’s eyes are like saucers; behind him, the faint sound of Akemi protesting spills out into the hallway as the three of you stare at each other in silence. “What? What is it? Ringo? Hey! Untie me! Let me see!”

Ringo opens his mouth, then closes it again. A wide, delighted grin slowly spreads over his face. Without another word, he slowly leans back into the room, shutting the panel behind him.

You both stare at the door for a minute. Akemi's complaints can still be heard from inside. Then you look at each other.

You giggle first, trying to stifle it, horrified at yourself as it bubbles free. “Sorry, s-sorry–” you hiss, more giggles escaping you, edged almost hysterical. It's not funny, at all, but you can't seem to stop.

Mizu watches you, perplexed at first, her mouth twitching as though she's not sure whether she should be laughing with you, or not. Finally she just sighs, too exhausted to give a damn, leaning her head on your shoulder again. This time you don't hesitate to wrap your arms around her, nuzzling into her hair as her own arms curl around you tightly.

It's not okay, nothing is okay, but, this… this is good.

Into the silence, a woman screams.

THE DAD WHO STEPPED UP! jjk smau

in which you're not home to send your kid off to their dads house for the weekend so your husband has to.

gojo, geto, sukuna, nanami, choso, and takuma

content: sfw, slightly suggestive (mentions of sex), multi-character, they're all step pappies :0 and do NOT like your ex.

a/n: requests open! don't forget to like and reblog (･ω･´)

jjk men x reader smau

you impose a s!x ban ☹️

characters included: gojo, geto, nanami, choso, toji

* MDNI

♱ content.  18+, clan leader!gojo x fem!reader, public play, exhibitionism, fingering, teasing.

clan leader gojo who sat at the head of the table, all striking white hair and piercing blue eyes that reflected the soft flicker of the candlelight. he commanded the room effortlessly, his voice smooth as he responded to the elders’ questions, a calm smile tugging at his lips. from the outside, he was the epitome of composure, the image of power and grace.

but under the table, hidden by the pristine white cloth, his long fingers were buried inside you, dragging along your walls with a slow, maddening precision.

you sat perched on his lap, your kesa spread perfectly to keep up the illusion of decorum. but beneath the folds, gojo’s hand had snuck under the layers, his other arm resting lightly around your waist to keep you from squirming too much.

“stay still,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear. his voice was low, just for you, but there was a playful edge to it, like he was daring you to disobey.

your nails dug into his thigh, the only outlet you had for the tension building in your body as his fingers pumped into you, curling just enough to send sparks shooting up your spine. you bit the inside of your cheek, desperate to keep from making a sound.

“gojo-sama, about the kyoto branch...” one of the elders began, their voice blending into the background as your focus narrowed on the steady rhythm of his hand.

gojo hummed, nodding slightly as he answered, “ah, yes. we’ll deal with that soon. no need to rush.” his tone was light, casual, as if his fingers weren’t knuckle-deep inside you under the table, as if your thighs weren’t trembling against his.

you felt his hardness pressing against your lower back, a constant reminder of just how much he was enjoying this. his thumb brushed over your clit, and you jolted slightly, your body betraying you. his other hand tightened on your hip, holding you firmly in place.

“careful, sweetheart,” he whispered, his breath warm against your temple. “wouldn’t want them to notice, would we?”

your cheeks burned as you clenched around his fingers, and he groaned softly, low enough that only you could hear. “so tight,” he murmured, his voice dripping with amusement. “and so wet. you’re making a mess.”

your breath hitched as he sped up just slightly, his fingers curling deeper, finding that spot that made your vision blur. you bit your lip hard, trying to suppress the gasp that threatened to escape, but a small, broken sound slipped through anyway.

one of the elders glanced in your direction, concern flickering across their face. “gojo-sama, is everything alright?” they asked. “your wife seems... distracted.”

gojo’s grin widened, his blue eyes glinting with mischief as he gave them a disarming nod. “she’s fine,” he said smoothly. “it’s been a long day for her. isn’t that right, darling?”

you managed a shaky nod, your face burning as you tried to keep your voice steady. “y-yes,” you stammered, barely holding it together as his thumb pressed harder against your clit. “just... tired.”

“ah, of course,” the elder said with a polite bow, their attention returning to the conversation.

gojo leaned closer, his lips brushing against your temple. “good girl,” he murmured, his tone so low it sent a shiver down your spine. “you’re taking it so well.”

your thighs trembled, and you felt the tension building higher, tighter, until it snapped. you clenched around his fingers, your release washing over you as you slumped back against his chest, trying desperately to catch your breath.

he didn’t stop right away. his fingers slowed, stroking you gently as he murmured soft praises in your ear, his hand on your hip keeping you steady. finally, he pulled his fingers from under your kesa, his touch lingering as if he couldn’t quite let go.

before you could even glance his way, he brought his fingers to his lips, his tongue flicking out to taste you.

you froze, heat blooming in your cheeks as he sucked his fingers clean, slow and deliberate. his lashes lowered slightly, and he let out a soft hum of approval, like he was savoring the taste.

no one noticed. the elders were too engrossed in their meals and discussions to spare him a second glance.

gojo leaned back, his other hand giving your thigh a firm squeeze as his blue eyes sparkled with mischief. “delicious,” he whispered, just loud enough for you to hear. “i think i might need seconds later.”

you glared at him, your face hot, but he just smiled, flashing his white canines as he turned his attention back to the table.

“as i was saying,” he said smoothly, lifting his wine glass as if nothing had happened, “everything seems to be progressing well.”