Started Watching The Apothecary Diaries Somebody Please Save Her

Started watching the apothecary diaries somebody please save her

▸ manager in public, creampies in private - gojo satoru (hockey player/fwb!)

synopsis: His jinx — fucking the manager behind his coach’s back before every game — has become a rather risky ritual that he’s secretly developed over the years. With you, a regular pattern of his life, Satoru proposes a deal before his final game — the last time he’ll confess, “you wanna fuck me or do wanna date me?”

contents: wc: 15.2k(i am so sorry y'all.... i have no words for this), unedited. fem/afab!reader, she/her pronouns, reader is referred to as "girlfriend," pet names: baby, pretty, (there are so many), satoru calls himself daddy as a joke, locker room sex, fwb!, explicit language, p -> v penetration, creampies, lots of fucking. suguru moved to another uni. cunnilingus, squirting, fingering, teasing, mating press, doggy, gojo can carry the reader because he’s strong like that. little bit of Satoru’s pov..

The stadium is cold the moment you walk in. It’s enough to make your cheeks mildly sting and send shivers down your back, leaving the tip of your nose to feel frozen. From the crisp smell of the rink that’s been brushed out just moments prior, to the vibrant conversations of adults and the cheers from children anticipating the next game, everything tugged for your attention. 

At the apex of winter sports, today will mark the champions for the national collegiate tournament for Division I Hockey. 

For the normal attendee or avid fan of the sport, being there should be exciting. 

But it couldn’t be far more inapplicable for you. A nervous pit coiled inside your gut — a dichotomous force of friction that made your heart thump in anticipation, but your stomach churn in anxiety. 

Your mind felt like a fuzz. Guess, it didn't help that your ears also felt plugged, with every sound muffling inside that annoyingly distorted your rational thought — or whatever was left of it. 

Stumbling onto the bleachers with your cheeks feeling hot despite the chill that surpassed your skin, your legs felt wobbly while walking over to your designated seat as the beloved team manager; like a broken record, your mind replayed a moment you had not less than an hour prior. 

“Control him from doing anything irrational off the courts. That’s your only job today.” the head coach warned before making his way out of the locker room, his thick calloused hand placed on your shoulder, his firm grip a forewarning to not disappoint him.

“Whatever he chooses to do on it, he can go crazy all he wants as long as he brings home the trophy. I don’t care,” Yaga Sensei muttered, lowly chuckling as he hitched up his glasses, “you’re good at your job, make the last one count,” he firmly stated before closing the door behind you.

Of course, that was your job and in no way were you going to fuck things up. Every game was the same: regulate your star player, do damage control for his unhinged actions, and babysit him – the prodigy for the University of Tokyo, from doing anything negative that the press could get their hands on. 

Or in simpler terms: control your fuck buddy and do whatever it takes for him to not be so unfiltered — keyword: whatever.

You recalled the week prior, cringing at the aftermath of his actions, with you sowing the repercussions of damaging your almost perfect reputable reputation — a total disaster of an interview, the distress to your migraines you had every game day thereafter from both him and Yaga-sensei.

Granted, conducting an interview post-game wasn’t fun for anyone especially when it was painfully knowing that the reporters were only interested in trying to leach out any information to make a viral post of the handsome center.

His articles sold, and any gossip obtained was always a hit. 

His last article went viral — a hot topic of gossip in all outlets of social media, trending not only in Japan but in other countries as the hot man that kicked a reporter, Gojo Satoru, University of Tokyo’s center, and the most infamous, Gojo’s girlfriend. It was of a photo of Satoru midshot, kicking a reporter with his long legs easily reaching to their face with a cheeky smile while his hands were haughtily in his pants with a blurred figure hiding behind his back, nimble fingers grabbing hold of Satoru’s clothes. 

Surely, pretty privilege very much exists when more than half of the comments of netizens were:

omg look at his legs! He’s so pretty! That reporter deserved it. 

damn, wish I looked that good kicking someone. 

He makes me question my sexuality. What a beautiful man.

Definition of looks like a cinnamon roll, but would kill you. 

Don’t worry y’all! That’s me behind him! I’m the girlfriend 😘

SATORU HAS A GIRLFRIEND? I’M SICKKKKKKK

Is it weird to find this hot? I don't condone violence but if it’s Satoru… 

“So Gojo-san, what do you foresee as your next plan to defeat your rival player next week? Can we expect some friendly competition?” The reporter asked, intently waiting to type up any information Satoru had to give.

Sludging over the microphone, his voice vacant of any enthusiasm, but instead endowed in annoyance, “If he can keep up, then yea. It’s been over a year since we’ve been on the same court, I don’t keep up with his updates but I’m sure he’s been training on his own. He’s good at what he does.” Satoru tiredly sighed, brushing his bangs over his forehead, while lightly clutching onto the mic stand with his other hand, “Next question.”

And of course, the rather infamous question he gets asked every interview. 

“Are you currently dating anyone? I’m sure you have loads of people wanting to date you.” Upon hearing the rather obnoxious giggle of the reporter, Satoru’s jaws clenched with irritation. “Any special plans for the New Year with a certain special someone, specifically maybe the one you were pictured with?” 

Getting questions about his private life wasn’t out of the norm and was a regular occurrence. Usually, he’ll flirt with the idea and throw a little bait to the reporters, but particularly on this day, it rubbed Satoru the wrong way.

“What a stupid question, don’t you get tired of asking who I’m fucking?” Satoru numbly responded with life drained from his eyes despite the rather harsh clench of his jaws, “Well, if you’re so dying to know, I’m currently getting rejected on the daily by a rather oblivious person.”

“Any hints as to who —”

“Why?" he scoffed with a brow raised, unfazed, "so you can go harass her for information? Next question.”

“Hello, Gojo-San could you explain about the rumors that are going around about your fallout with Kyoto’s new center?” Another reporter quickly rode off the previous questions. 

“What rumors?” Satoru furrowed his brows, clicking his tongue against his teeth, briefly glancing at you off to the side. A fair warning that he was getting uncomfortable. 

Talking about his ex-best friend was still a sore spot for Satoru, a breakup without proper closure. 

It happened without a notice, a fallout that occurred in the middle of the season during Satoru’s sophomore year, and for a year he’s been silent until he’s made his return with the rival school.

Closing his eyes to calm himself down, fisting his hand as he clenched his teeth, Satoru annoyingly answered back, “We just aren’t on the same team anymore, nothing crazy about that. It’s normal in sports.”

“Well, people are wondering if it’s true that he betrayed you to give the game plays away to his current team.” The man responded, his ignorance seemed bliss, but the malice undertone with the slight tilt of his upper lip told otherwise.

“Betrayed?” Satoru scoffed, the air in the conference room immediately felt cold, irked from the reporter’s nonchalance in picking at his ego, “the only thing getting betrayed is you when your wife sucks my co —”

On instinct, you rushed over to cover his mouth — fucking idiot — and quickly stated through the mic with a routined rueful expression you’ve made one too many times — on behalf of this dumbass.

“I’m sorry, but we’ll conclude this interview from here on! I thank you all for coming.” 

While leaving, you quickly glanced at Yaga-sensei’s disappointed expression, his jaws clenched as he watched you both hurriedly make your way to the locker room with Satoru trailing behind with your grip over his wrist. 

You were one hundred percent going to get an earful from Sensei.

Gojo dumb fucking Satoru always making your life a complete hell; you were determined to chew his ear off.

“Just wait till we get into the lockers, Satoru” you stated through gritted teeth, your grip on his wrists getting firmer with each step.

“Yea? Ooo I like it when you’re rough with me,” he grinned, the utter audacity of him to take you as a joke, “what are you gonna do to me in the locker rooms?” he gasped, his voice innocent — it’s laughable, really — despite his breath close to your ears with his firm chest right behind you, taunting you to continue with your harmless threats.

It’s cute and makes his cock twitch and quickly pool with blood whenever you’re being dominant — at least when you try to. 

Opening the door, you snapped at him while taking a step in, “You’re fucking annoying —”

But things always seemed to take a turn to his advantage — always. 

The milliseconds leading to the locker rooms were silent — silence breaking the moment you stepped foot into it with Satoru’s lips rammed to yours, his hands hungry for greater access to your body. 

You’re completely caught off guard when his lips come crashing onto yours. The slight grunt of his voice mixed with a hint of a whine when he pushed you against the lockers, your hands naturally landing on his firm chest, easily melting into his grip — a sinful vice he’d been swaying over your head like a pendulum for the past years every time you both snuck around to fuck.

“I fucking tried,” he groaned into the kiss while he rapidly unclothed you. The annoyance that he’d felt a couple of minutes prior all dissipated out and funneled to you. It was apparent in the sheer urgency of his hands ripping off your clothes that his patience was running thin. 

“Ngh, S-Satoru!” your chest felt heavy, your mind feeling fuzzy when you met his carnal gaze, “we need to talk —” you’re cut short when his lips latch onto your neck, his hot breath lacing up your skin as he pulled your arms upward and caged your wrists with one hand, while the other traveled down your stomach, straight to your heated core. 

“Talk about what? How we fuck?” he moaned at the pleasurable feeling of your pussy being wrapped with his favorite cotton panties — the one he jokingly gifted for being his fuck buddy for a year — where soon he’ll be able to play with your cum coated folds while he fucked you against the mirror walls. 

“Oh god,” you huffed in the split moment he pulled away to catch his breath when his fingers started stroking up and down your folds, the tips of his middle and ring finger playing with your tight entrance, “Toru, w-we gotta talk, Yaga-sensei —”

Scoffing out a chuckle, he let go of your lips, his teeth pulling against your lower flesh with his voice deep. He peered down at you with his orbs strictly dilated and dark, “Aren’t you cheeky? Trying to get Sensei involved.” His thumb brushed against your lower lip, the throbbing pain of your skin feeling sensitive when his calloused finger presses against it, “but you need me to explain to him how we always fuck behind his back?” 

His hand traveled down your throat, his long fingers organically wrapping around your neck, a pleasing accessory around your neck, “I’d like that, too, it’s thrilling isn't it?” he taunted, his breath brushing against your heated cheeks, “but I don't think Sensei will particularly like what I say.”

“Y-your teammates ahh! —” You barely could let out a whine when his lips came crashing again, gasping when you felt the suffocated tension of your bra unclasping, exposing your breasts to the damp, cold air, the buttons of your shirt falling to the floor, “t-they’ll hear!” you tried whispering.

“They aren’t coming,” He growled, “ I locked the door,” his tantalizing voice contrasted with the sharp pain of his teeth biting into your shoulder, a dainty string of spit hung from his lips as he continued to paint your skin with his marks, felt all together euphoric. 

“But they're more than welcome to listen, we'll give them the hottest free porn.”

You can feel his hardened bulge being pressed against your hips, it was torturous to not cup your hands over his hefty cock. And he knew. He could sense it, feel in the way you pulled back into the kiss, the wanton sounds of your needy breaths pleasantly luring him to want more of you.  

“I need you,” he groaned while releasing your wrists and leading them to his member, having your hands hold his throbbing flesh, now painfully pooled with blood, while he aggressively shoved down his athletic shorts, freeing his very erect cock to spring out.

It was a sight to see — his cock freely nodding with pre cum leaking out of the slit, his head flaring a bright red while his veins bulged down his length. You can feel your mouth salivating at the sight of tasting his pebbled release sitting so prettily on his head. 

It’s embarrassing how you were so weak to his touch, how desperately you wanted a taste of his release, to ultimately end up being completely stuffed with both his cock and his cum filling you up to the brim that it just had to leak out of your tight hole.

And it doesn’t help how your mind becomes a blank slate the moment his fingers stroke perfect circles around your hardened clit, the sounds of his reciprocated desires to devour you echoed so licentiously through your ears. 

And accustomed to, your insides perfectly carved with the shape of his length, your inner walls throbbed, clenched the moment his fingers — one, two, three — slowly stretched out your needy pussy. 

“Fuckin’ perfect,” his voice was teasing with a hint of impatience, “good girl," he praised when he feels you innately opening up for him. "show me how much you can suck me in, I wanna feel every inch of you,” Satoru coaxed, “trained this pussy so well, yea?”

Obediently nodding, your arms immediately latch around his neck, pulling him closer to your heated body. And with that, something short circuits in his brain the moment he sees you vulnerably so ready for him. 

“You’re so fucking cute,” Satoru purred, the playful glint of his tone was the opposite of the sheer force he had when he quickly propped up your legs under his arms, pushing you further into the locker room as he rammed his cock inside you, your back arching at the sudden penetration — a dichotomy of pleasure and pain as three fingers surely cannot suffice and prepare you for the length and girth of his cock no matter how many times he’s fucked you. 

“Hold tight,” he pressed a tender kiss to your forehead, his lips traveling down to your ears, tauntingly whispering, “I gotta swoon over my manager with a good fuck.”

Aggressively thrusting upward as the tip of his head searched for your sweet spot, your body folded from his strength. It doesn't take him long to find it — gummy and deep — especially when you're trembling and writhing in his grip. "because she just loves my cock, doesn't she?"

“T—toru,” you moaned out, the sweet mating call of his name ringing pleasurable to his ears.

“Who’s my good girl?” cooing as he placed a kiss on your nose, gently smiling despite his cock bullying past your wet, puffy folds, the sharp slapping of his skin meeting your thighs harshly echoing in the empty locker room.

And he swears he saw stars when he hears you.

 — “Me.”

Currently shaking off the memory you had a week prior, you had one job: stop that from happening.

Well, that being another disastrous interview session — sex just so happens to come with it… always.

It’s not like you didn’t enjoy his company. It was rather quite the opposite — you craved his touch and longingly wanted to be by his side despite your words stating otherwise.

In short, you’ve been in denial. A secret you’ve upheld since the realization that he’s crept into your heart and took much more space in it than you would like to admit.

Falling in love with the university’s hot shot wasn’t something you’ve planned to do within your academic agenda. Being prompt with your studies, attending clubs, and enjoying time with friends while studying, with the occasional partying, maybe getting a boyfriend here and there, while accruing a job and work experience was part of the plan. 

Not, him.

More specifically, loving Gojo Satoru, the bane of your existence, the pretty boy with an even devilishly handsome cock, that’s won your heart despite being your fuck buddy, was not part of the plan.

It should be a universal law: to never fall in love with your friend with benefit. And if there was a fine for being defiant of such a law, you would be the one prosecuted and trialed for such a wicked crime. 

And to no surprise, even today, you were no saint. 

Moments before —

“You know?” panting with his arms wrapped around your waists, thrusting upwards while he met your pace as you bounced on his cock.

With sweat dripping down his temple, he sucked onto your perked nipples, groaning when he feels you further tightening around his length — which was already snugly wrapped around him, “we should seriously date,” he frankly stated.

“Shut up,” you groaned, combing through his hair, adjusting your position to move your hips in rhythmic waves, the fire of your thighs making it difficult to withstand this position.

“Why not?” he groaned while pulling you down, cradling the back of your head with one hand while the other motioned your continual movements, his firm touch gratifying and making you feel safe despite the vulnerability of fucking in a public space. 

“I—I don’t ahh ‘Toru that’s too deep! —” moaning from the hitch of his hips, forcing himself to go even deeper, the tip of his cock teasingly poking at your sweet spot as his girth stretched you out — each motion helping him to bottom out.

Your eyes are brimmed with tears as you hold his hair, pulling against his strands while the other digs into his shoulders, marking up his body — it was so easy for him to make a mess of you in such a short time, and he loved it; absolutely craved for it.

“You let guys that aren’t your boyfriend,” chuckling while he pushed your body down, feeling your juices run down his inner thighs, satisfied at how nicely his cock was soaking in your soft walls, “fuck” thrust “you” thrust “like” thrust “this?”

Despite the rather light tone of his voice, jealousy raged inside him. Because there should be no other answer than —

“No — “ your grasping at his back, using any part of his body to find leverage to mitigate the fullness you were feeling inside your tummy — the red scratches of his back and shoulders remnants of your relationship with him.

“Good,” he praised, gripping your ass with a sly smile teased at the corner of his lips, eventually blossoming into a brazen grin when he intentionally stopped his thrusts just to hear you whine out for him again, “and it should stay that way,” he confidently professed. 

Dating Gojo Satoru. That would be nice. 

Commitment issues? Sure, guess you can say you had that.

Insecurities? Most definitely so when your so-called partner was The Gojo Satoru — the university's hottest athlete currently in the process of being scouted to play in the professional league. 

It felt all too surreal, everything inside of you was filled with him — literally and figuratively. From the way his lightly trimmed, now wet with your cum, hair tickled your clit to the way his cock filled every inch of you in one second only to be languid — slow and easy — pulled out and the next, rammed into you like a pistol releasing its bullet.

He usually took his time before games to fuck you, to enjoy and absorb your godly pussy power — he liked to always add while balls deep inside you with your thighs plastered to your chest, his weight pushing against your body, with the silliest smile despite the rather not so silly act he was doing with you.

A jinx, he liked to argue. A just happened chance of a one-night stand, now leading to years of fucking multiple times a week, under his solid impression that without you, there was no success. 

Win after fucking. And a loss without it.

What can you say? Dick was good, but being in his arms felt even better.

It’s a sin. But at this point, did you have any leisure to contemplate if that’s even an option for you to not partake in anymore? 

For someone that sleeps with drool coming out of his mouth, to the obnoxious thirst pics he would send only to you with an even more atrocious emoji ‘😜’ with a little ‘heh’ at the end, he sure gave you butterflies in your stomach; his mere presence made you feel good.

Crying and fervently pleading, with broken moans while every crevice of his cock continually carved your insides with his template, “Right there! — fuck ‘Toru, I—Imma cum please!” and he’ll reply with the most greedy moan as he pumped his seeds into your tight hole.

Satoru liked taking his time, but he also lavished under the thrill of a quick fuck. Desperately clinging onto each other, fucked into an absolute mess while he quickly rearranged your guts — that was his favorite. 

“Can’t talk anymore?” he smiles. At the same time, he painfully fucks you at a slow pace, “Thought you were going to put me in my place?” cock twitching inside you when he notices how swollen your lips have become and the little squirm you release when you feel him growing within you, “it’s a shame, I like it when you curse at me,” he chuckles. 

“Shut up,” you tiredly croaked, “you talk too much.”

“Tired?” he breathed out, looking up with his lips slightly bruised from the feverish kiss you had with him just moments before he chose to open his mouth — the type with tongue with spit drooling down the sides, unafraid to use to teeth to bite and tug.

“Mhm,” you quietly nodded, pulling yourself closer to his body.

“Thought you’d get used to me by now,” he peppered your shoulders with gentle kisses, “you know? by how much I’ve fucked you,” his touch now soft — almost fragile in the way he held you. 

“You wanna try getting impaled by this,” clenching on his shaft for emphasis while you relished in his comfort, “and then tell me if you can get used to it too?”

“Relax,” he coached, chuckling as the padding of his fingers gently massaged your hips and eased out at your muscles, “I hear ya, just lean on me a bit.” 

The warmth of his skin felt nice. The touch of his hand pressing against your body felt like electricity pulsing through your body while the circuits of your neurons flashingly fired to cause the heat of your core to spark in flames when he pressed tender kisses against your shoulders — one too gentle and comforting for a fuck buddy to be doing.

“You know,” he hummed, “dating me won’t be all too bad.”

“Sure,” you thoughtlessly answered back, snuggling your face into the crook of his neck, taking a whiff of his natural scent.

“You like me,” he placed a kiss on your temple, “and I think we’re pretty compatible,” he continued to kiss areas of your face, spending time to adorn every inch, “Sex is good, and I’m hot, so I don’t see why you won’t date me?”

“Who said I liked you?” your useless pride spoke before you registered his confession.

“Rude, who’s the one that won’t let me go in the mornings?” scowling as he lightly flicked your head. “and you mumble when you sleep, you know?” he smirked, the tilt of his lips teasing, his crystal blue eyes half hidden from his lids as he briefly looked down at your swollen lips, “it’s cute, but I would rather have you confess to me when you’re not half asleep.”

“You freak,” pouting as you tried hiding your face, embarrassed that you unknowingly outed yourself yet still chose to proudly reject his confessions.

“How about this,” looking up with eyes sparkling with anticipation, “if I make the last point, then you go on one date with me.”

“Is there an option to decline?”

“No,” offended you would say such words, you could practically see every aspect of his demeanor — hair, face, eyes — all simultaneous sulk in unison.

“Then what if you don’t make the last shot?”

“You won’t need to worry about that,” he cheekily smiled, cupping your face to place a soft kiss on your nose before reaching your lips. You can feel his cock starting to harden and twitch, evident from the small hitches of his hips to burrow himself slowly into you.

Leading you into a kiss, pushing you upward to give a little space for him to squeeze his cock inside you, the patience within him to wait for you to slowly sink onto his length again dissipates the moment he hears you tease.

With your mouth gaping open, and eyes tightly shut while your nails dug into his chest, barely managing to garner the strength to go for another round, you always talked so big. “You’re prideful to think one date can win me over.” 

“I mean I already have,” shrugging as he leaned back on his elbows, scanning down to see where you’re both connected. it's arousing when he sees your pubic bone perfectly nestled on top of his, “You’re the one that’s sitting on my cock, no?”

“your mouth is the problem, Satoru,” rolling your eyes while you pushed him away, the heat of your cheeks burning up just as the core of your stomach flared up and coiled inside you. 

Pulling you back, tilting your chin to meet his wanting eyes, “Hey hey, look at me,” he softly breathed, “I’ll be good to you,” he whispers, “I don’t go fucking around other girls, it’s just been you. I promise.”

“ ‘Toru —” you feel him slightly adjust his hips and in tandem, his cock moves deeper inside.

“Shh… just trust me,” shoving the rest of his shaft fully inside you, clenching his jaws and immediately wrapping his toned arms around your waist. From the sudden suffocating tightness surrounding his size combined with the pleasurable sensation of you writhing in his arms, he knew today was going to be a good game — his career best, at the least.

"I'll prove it to you. I'll win."

"what if —"

And through gritted teeth, while he steadies himself inside you, with each breath he emphasized, the gushing of your wet pussy coating his cock, and the desperate whimpers of your moans sounding so organic and delicate in his ears as he prepared you for another climax, 

“Shh... you should know that best, princess. I always finish the job.” 

— 

Squirming in your seat, heart racing as you watched Satoru belatedly enter the rink, shaking out his white hair before putting on his helmet — droplets of sweat peeking through from his prior rendezvous, the slight bliss on his cheeks blooming with the puff of smoke huffed from his mouth. 

Swiftly skating to his teammates to start on warmups, donning a blue and white jersey with white lettering with the number 6, there was a divide of a deep chant of his name coupled with the shrieking enthusiasm of his fangirls whenever he effortlessly made a practice shot. Whenever he slightly even glanced over to the audience, there was a roar of adoration.

“Keep it all in for me, yea?” the source of your migraine chuckled as he held your trembling body. His hands naturally moved to lightly massage your sore hips, the huffs of his solid chest inviting you to breathe and wind down.

In response you reached up to pinch his nipples, groaning from exhaustion, "pervert..."

“it’s my last game, so be nice to me.” 

Fucking you till the last minute he could spare, Satoru decided to be cheeky and shoot his cum so deeply inside you. Huffing curses close to your ears as his arms pulled you further down on his cock, nearly piercing you with his length, his member pulsing with every splurt of his seeds pushed into you.

In conclusion, you’re now sitting in your seat, not daring to move for fear that it will spill. He was usually good at cleaning you up, taking his sweet time to kiss your cheeks and brush his bruised lips against your skin as he steadied his breath. But maybe it was from the nervous thrill he had of meeting his once friend, or the pent-up frustration of this past season that’s gotten to him, but one thing for sure was that Satoru came a lot — your wet panties currently pooled and soaked in his cum being proof of it.  

“What took you so long, was looking all over for you?” Someone chirped behind you.

Flustered from hearing his voice, you quickly turned around, flinching when you felt a lump of fluid squeeze out of your pussy.

Cheekily smiling as he pulled up his skates while apologetically smiling, “I need my strings fixed… wondering if you had any extra?” 

“Haibara-chan…” you forced out a chuckle, trying to shake away the sudden surprise, lightly shaking your head while you took his skates, “I’m starting to wonder…” slowly untying his laces, the cold stadium making it a bit difficult for your fingers to grasp onto the material, “if you’re doing something fishy with these?” 

“... That's Gojo-san,” Haibara mumbled under his breath, sitting down on the bench, the clothes of his uniform oddly too big for his growing physique, “It just somehow ends up getting worn out all the time,” the younger man sulked, “I blame Yaga-Sensei for running us so hard during practice.”

“Mhm,” you hummed while searching through the team bag to find a new pair of white laces, “I’m teasing, Haibara-chan,” opening up the fresh pack to string his skates, “just promise me, you won’t be like him.”

“Him?” Haibara curiously asked, cocking his head to the side, his blunt bangs moving with the angle of his head.

Yes, Him — the one who’s currently in a headlock from Yaga-Sensei for completely blowing off the pre-game interviews.

“Ah, guess you’re referring to Gojo-san,” Haibara looked into the field, and took a glance at you, “but you like him, no?” 

“Huh?” you felt a sudden pang in your stomach when hearing those words.

“Sorry! I meant like friends!” He raised his hands to rectify the tension from your question, cheeks blushing in embarrassment. “You’re close to him, right? We've noticed you both spend a lot of time together,” he hummed.

“Ah, yeah… I guess,” you softly answered, barely audible.

“He’s handsome and friendly, awfully a good athlete, and is smart too?” Haibara was practically bouncing on his seat while bragging about his beloved senpai, “There’s practically nothing the man can’t do!”

“Sure… but he’s the most insufferable human I’ve ever met in my life,” you grumbled, slouching in your seat to hide your face from possibly showing any emotion while talking about him. 

“Really? Wow, I’m jealous,” he whispered, yet his voice chirped in adoration, “maybe he just really likes you, you know… like how close friends do that to each other! ”

Close friends. 

Guess the dynamic of the relationship was of close friends but… not with a good conscience — close friends with benefits.

Despite the nature of your relationship with him, he wasn’t what you imagined. Indeed, you both didn’t start with the most cordial dynamic. You hated him and despised his guts when he “accidentally” stepped on your white shoes while he rushed out of the lockers. 

Normally you wouldn’t mind. Accidents happen and you weren’t particularly fussy about those things to care. But when the contender that stepped on your shoes had size twelve feet, a literal giant compared to yours, of course, you’ll get livid — especially when the dirt of his soles made your shoe look gray from one step alone; furthermore, when he didn’t dare to say a simple sorry. 

You recall grunting, mumbling curses at the stupidly tall asshole, with an even stupid smirk on his face while cleaning your shoes with a toothbrush during the middle of the night. You slept with the intent to kill him the next morning and make his life a living hell when you’re introduced as the team’s manager.

But guess what, Satoru would always have the upper hand. Before you can even introduce yourself, he’s stiffly walking towards you with a hand awkwardly scratching the back of his head while pushing something in your direction.

“Here,” he stares off to the side as he hands you a shopping bag, “I wasn’t sure what size you wore if it doesn’t fit, you can exchange it.”

“What?” you eyed him, unsure why he was acting so weird.

“Sorry, we got off on the wrong foot,” Satoru lamely threw out a pun, hoping the tension would ease out with a small laugh, instead he was met with your unfazed expression.

“tough crowd,” he softly murmured, sighing before leaving the room, “well, the receipt's in the bag if you don’t like it.”

Suspiciously eyeing the bag, you took out the box and opened it. Inside was a pair of shoes that were similar to the ones you wore yesterday before he ruined them, with a little note inside and a rather cute drawing of himself.

‘Hope we can get along. Welcome to the team.’

You felt acid slowly creep its way up your throat, gurgling in your stomach, making it painfully difficult to succumb anymore to this conversation. A stamp of reality that Gojo Satoru may possibly, after this game, become nothing more than a fever dream. 

It’s silly, really. And it was even more ridiculous how you pulsed in your seat, longingly wanting that he would win — not for his own success, but for yours.

“Sometimes I wish he would be —” 

“Yu and Kento, get your asses over!” Despite being from across the rink, Yaga-sensei’s voice boomed as if he was right next to you, breathing down your ear. 

“I think Sensei is calling for you guys,” you interjected, kindly smiling with your eyes as you passed on his skates.

“Oh shit!” His eyes rounded, face paling and body antsy in his seat, “Ahh thank you for stringing these for me.” Bowing multiple times in gratitude as he reached over his skates, “Nanami! We gotta go!”

“Tell Sensei I’m not here.” You could hear his faint voice coming from the corner, his thick jacket covering his whole body with only his laced skates peeping from the bottom.

“I’ll give you five seconds, ” Yaga-Sensei threatened, “or you’re both running laps around the field till you drop tomorrow.”

“Yes, sir!” Haibara immediately stood up, quickly dragging his fellow blonded friend along with him — for someone less enthusiastic about his games and practices, Nanami was always fully dressed for the game. 

“Ahh Gojo-san! Look this way!”

“GAHHH! Gojo-senpai is coming here! My phone! I need a picture!”

The shriek of his fans' screams painfully rang in your ears. 

The chant of his name gets louder, the shrill becoming overbearing when you notice him skating towards your side of the stadium.

“Don’t you dare come here,” you mouthed, your eyes shooting daggers at the smirk on his face.

You could tell — no, you could feel every inch of your body being observed by the audience, daggers being sent in your direction. 

Did he just fucking wink at me? 

It was infuriating just how normal he was on the court while you writhed in your seat, having a mental shock whenever you felt a hot gush of viscous fluid drip onto your panties. 

Satoru makes a crisp stop in front of you, taking off his helmet and shaking his hair. It was comical the way his fans fell to their knees, girls practically foaming at the mouth and guys mentally noting how to up their rizz game like the athlete.

Opening up the side door, he leans against the railing with his elbows resting on the surface, “you good?” he arrogantly asked. Though his words sounded caring, the slight mischievous twinkle in his eyes told otherwise.

“What do you think, Satoru?” You hissed through your teeth despite the friendly smile you gave him.

“Good girl,” he whispered out, just enough for you to hear, “ wouldn’t want you to waste any of it.”

“Gojo Satoru, I swear —”

The stereo briefly shrieks before announcing, “Ladies and Gentleman! Here come the visitors onto the rink! Give them your loudest cheers!”

Immediately you can see his jaw clenching, and the once vibrant color of his cerulean eyes becoming a shade darker as he turned around to face the opposing team. his gaze specifically lands on the team captain — Geto Suguru, Kyoto Spartan’s center. 

“Are you going to be okay?” softly placing your hand on his forearm, worried he wouldn’t be able to control himself and act on his emotions. 

“Yea,” he turned around half-heartedly chuckling as he looked down at your hand comforting him, only to look up with a smug look on his face, “you worried about your soon-to-be boyfriend?”

“I’m being serious, Satoru,” you lightly gripped his arm, the look of your eyes solidified his one of many reasons why he fell for you in the first place. 

You were kind. well, kind enough to accept all his bullshit.

“I know, and I am, too.” He calmly reassured with his gloved hand placed over yours, “It’s gonna be a good game, and I gonna make you my girlfriend, so don't fall too hard, okay?” Satoru playfully winked, briefly squeezing your hand before leaving you to join his team,  “I’ll be fine, worry about me after the game because I’m going to need it.”

Today would mark the champions for the Mens Division I finals: the Tokyo Trailblazers vs. the Kyoto Spartans. 

The final terminus of once childhood best friends, Gojo Satoru and Geto Suguru, now stood on opposite sides to be the final victor. Star players of both universities who played together till two years ago now stand as rivals at the collegiate championships. 

“Eyes on the puck at all times,” Yaga-Sensei forewarned, “You’ve practiced with Suguru, and knowing his playstyle should be second nature, by now.” taking a glance at Satoru in his zone, eyes fiercely determined yet his composure was calm, “he’s not in our team, so play aggressive. Don’t ever fall behind Satoru, keep up at his pace and pass when you see the moment.”

“Yes sir,” the team harmoniously responded.

“Yu and Kento, remember to be careful, be vigilant and sharp, especially you, Nanami…” Yaga-Sensei cautioned, the lines of his furrowed brows behind his sunglasses deeply cut into his forehead, “No one else knows your position better than Suguru.”

Sophomore year, summer —

Jinx. noun. An evil spell; a person or thing supposed to bring bad luck.

It all started during your second year of university. 

Just like how everything just happens, so does your relationship with Gojo Satoru. It started naturally — or you would like to convince yourself. 

You were the team’s manager by title, and Satoru’s freelancing PR manager in private. 

“Why the fuck do you always have to make my life miserable!” You hissed at Satoru uncaringly stuffing his clothes from his locker into his bag, “Sensei’s gonna kill me tomorrow,” you groaned, leaning against the lockers and sliding down to the cement floor.

“I think that’s a you problem,” he hummed, taking a glance down at you before he continued to pack his bags, “I told you, I wasn’t going to do that interview, especially after that shitty game.”

“You're doing this on purpose huh?” you numbly asked, the throbbing pain of your head making you feel dizzy, “you’re just a prick that can’t accept a loss.”

“Not exactly,” he nonchalantly responded while closing his locker, clicking his tongue in annoyance, “I just didn’t want to answer the same damn questions I get all the time, that’s all,” he stroked his hair back to expose his forehead before crouching down, leaning on his elbows, manspreading to your level while sitting on the bench, “it’s nothing personal, princess,” he winked. 

His face was dangerously close to yours, almost as if he was taunting for something more than just a petty banter — especially in the way he titled his face, making it so easy to just —

“I wanna strangle you sometimes, you know?” you huffed out, glaring at him gloating down at you with the most irritating grin to exist. 

Maybe it was the anger that blinded your senses but strangely he looked so fucking handsome, especially in his gray sweats that — you scanned him from top to bottom, and you can almost see the definition of his crotch through the lining. he was big.

You can almost bet the pink of his lips was so soft to touch, and plush to suck  — what the fuck were you thinking.

Smirking when he caught your gaze on his lips for a second too long, he drew even closer. reaching down to grab your wrists to grip around the collar of his shirt, licking his lips while he challenged, “It’s your lucky day, Princess. Try me.”

Starting is always the hardest, the rest is easy. 

you wanted to kiss him, badly. clenching onto his shirt with a million thoughts spiraling through your head, mentally cursing him with every possible word you knew. Everything soon became quiet the second your eyes zoomed in on him licking his lips — it was absolutely perfect — glossy with a perfect shade of pink that seduced you into agony.

So without thinking, your lips go crashing onto his. The harsh breathing through your nose sounds impatient and gruff. Kissing him, with teeth clashing and tongues fighting for dominance, Satoru immediately reciprocated by pulling you up to his firm lap.

“You wanna fuck me so bad, don’t you,” he panted in between kisses while his hand sneakingly ventured under your clothes to unclasp your bra and while the other pushed its way into your pants, harshly groping onto your soft ass.

Despite the tease in his voice, the quick speed of his hands curiously touching every inch of your body, groping and clawing, showed otherwise but leisure. 

“you started it,” groaning as you threw your head back, allowing his lips to peck kisses on your skin and for his tongue to trace up to your chin.

“You’re so honest when you’re needy,” he chuckles, “practically fucking me with your eyes.” Satoru always had a way with his words. He always irritatingly managed to get under your skin, as if he had an encyclopedia written on how to annoy you, he was practically an expert at it by now.

Normally you would scoff at his ego, and throw in curses just for some flavor. But you fell silent, pussy suddenly clenching on the air when you took a peek at Satoru, easily pulling off his shirt with one hand. His warm body was draped in a perfect muscle tone while he molded your breasts to his palm, his mouth sucking on your nipple, tongue tenderly swirling around your areola. 

“ngh shut up!” you rasped, “you’re so full of yourself.”

“Hmm,” he sounded pretty humming in response. Using his lips as a decoy to distract where his fingers were trekking towards, he pulled your panties off to the side to slip his slender fingers to touch your pussy — throbbing, warm, and laughably wet.

“let’s see,” groaning when he feels the warmth of your core, and your viscous juice coat his fingers. He swears that’s enough for him to cum in his pants but with all the willpower he had, he didn't — he couldn't until he's at least fucked you a couple rounds and has gotten a taste of your pussy — he lowly chuckled, “where you’re weak, princess.”

you gasped out a quiet, “fuck mhm, right there ‘Toru — j-just like that — please,” while tugging onto his hair, the hiss through his teeth sounding so melodic to your ears. 

With your fingers harshly entangled in his hair, you tried to register how this all happened. Your clothes were one by one thrown onto the cold floor, with Satoru now shirtless as he littered your bosom with tender kisses, holding you behind your curved waist while you pressed your chest further into his mouth, to feel the gratification of his warm tongue sucking on your nipple.

As his fingers stroked up and down your folds, the lewd noises of your erection squelched loudly while his mildly calloused fingers rendered pleasurable friction to your clit — a new, profound sensation you’ve never felt before, especially not with your fingers or even your most reliable toys. 

And it felt good — so fucking good. 

“you’re so soft,” he pulled out a groan deep in his throat, “hold onto me,” he ordered, his tongue trailing up your chest while he switched positions to have you lie on the bench.

Quickly pulling out his hand from touching your cunt, to strip you from your pants and throw them off to the side, he smirks when he hears a subtle whine subconsciously release.

“No — ’Toru please —”

That's all he needs to hear. Satoru doesn’t waste a second before he’s crawling between your legs and meeting your dripping pussy.

it’s wet—so wet, he can see it through your damp panties. He almost wants to chuckle and tease you a bit. call you out on your ego, but the ache that shoots down to his cock, painfully throbbing in his briefs, banging to be freed, reminds him that he’s in no position to tease you when he’s not faring any better himself — probably worse and much more needy, desperately wanting, than you can imagine. 

“I got you,” he huffed, pressing a tender kiss on your knees before spreading out your legs to settle in between them, his eyes soaking up every inch of your pussy to have it practically memorized, “I just wanna see you a bit.”

Pulling up your panties and seeing your puffy folds perfectly enveloping the fabric made his cock twitch, forcing his hips to push his hardened bulge against your needy core while a tantalizing, static pulse ripped through his body.

The thick padding of his finger pushes against your flesh. And if there was a pageant for the prettiest cunt, Satoru was goddamn sure you would win. especially with how your pussy softly recoiled every time he poked your wet flesh, simultaneously eliciting an even prettier, desperate moan. 

“god you’re fucking wet,” Satoru purred as he played with just how thick your juices strung onto his fingers, “prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen,” he delightfully praised under a solemn breath.

“Satoru,” you gasp in embarrassment, hands reaching for his hair and tugging him closer to where you need him most. 

So what better way is there than to play his own game — to tease and have him be the one yearning, begging at his feet.

“Yea?” gaining a bit of your conscience to lean your weight on your elbows,  instead of needly lying on the bench, expecting Satoru to do something — anything, fast, “you’ve seen other pussies? Thought you were a virgin,” you teased while looking down at Satoru, pushing his bangs away from his eyes — his white hair a mess, cheeks heated and eyes dark and dilated. 

but, it’s his game. no one knows the rules better than he does. 

So instead of your expected reaction, Satoru chuckles, and takes his time to spread your folds open with his thumbs, blowing air while he watches in wonder as you flutter around nothing. your hole pulsates in desire as arousal drips and leaves you into a burning mess.

It’s perfect—you’re perfect, everything about you is what he’s dreamed of — no, it’s better, far better than what he's fucked his fist to all this time.  

“Cute, you think so highly of me,” he snorted, unfazed by your mockery, eyes still focused on your pussy, “but you can see for yourself —” Satoru fastly pulled you down, causing you to yelp in shock at how strong he was. his face was now dangerously close to your leaking core, fingers delicately spreading out your folds, to uncurtain your pulsing hole and clit, contently smiling in adoration.

“—if I’m a virgin or not.”

“do you even know where the cli— oh my god,” you sobbed, the heaves of your chest becoming greater the moment you feel Satoru suck on your hardened bud, the plush of your thighs pushing against his head, curving your back as you pulled onto his hair, breathless from how he, too, was desperately eating you out.

it’s jaw dropping hot when his veins bulge and Adam’s apple bob while he gulps down thick saliva mixed with your sweet cum down his dry throat, his palm presses down your stomach to keep you pinned from squirming away.

he hears you and feels that you want him to. so he works, he works till his forearms burn and his biceps beautifully flex every time he fucks his finger into you, completely stretching you out, expertly adding more of his fingers to see your tight rim around his fingers clench in needy desire.

It doesn’t take him long to make you cum. Perfectly in tandem with the pressure of his mouth sucking your clit, to the rhythm of his finger inching deep within to find your sweet spots, guess, it’s not a surprise it takes him less than two minutes to locate it and another minute for you to be gushing. Quivering in his reign, the pleasure overwhelming as you came in his mouth— it’s almost painful how euphoric it felt.

Sucking and lapping every last bit of you while steadily pulsing his fingers in and out as you slowly came down from your climax, it wouldn’t be Gojo Satoru if he didn’t get the last word.

Letting go of your abused pussy with a soft kiss to your clit, his lips down to his chin were drenched, glistening, and dripping with your cum.

“You were saying?” he grinned.

Two hours thereafter, that day, Gojo Satoru performed a career-high of scoring seven goals.

Day of finals, thirty seconds till the game starts —

“Nanami,” throwing his arm around his Kohai, "I always knew you would be most fitting for this position,” a gentle voice welcomed himself.

“Geto-san,” Nanami's voice was emotionless, “you’re more than welcome to come and take it back,” the junior sarcastically jibed.

“Me? Don’t know if Satoru —”

“Get away from him, Suguru,” Tokyo’s team captain cut the rival off, “the game’s about to start, Nanami.”

Suguru shrugs while Nanami swiftly strides to his position as right-wing, carefully watching the scene behind Gojo’s back.

“Satoru!” The raven-haired now standing in front of Tokyo’s center amicably called out, eyes forming a crescent behind the thick black and white helmet, “long time no see.”

Satoru was straight to the point, desperate, “why’d you leave…?”

“No hello? My… Satoru,” the other chuckled while he comfortably situated his stick, next to the puck while both teams waited for the starting bell to ring, “where have your manners gone.” 

“are those rumors true?” Satoru asked while lowering his stance, preparing himself to get the first puck to start the game.

“The rumors?” Suguru questioned, a slight twitch of his lips giving away his faux innocence, “Oh —” scoffing while reciprocating Satoru’s actions, “Ahh, the one about me being a traitor?”

“Suguru, I know you. Tell me the tru —”

A loud buzz echoes in the stadium, Satoru’s words falling blank under the blaring cheers of the fans.

“Taking the lead —” the announcer reported live through the blaring amplifier.

“Guess, we’ll both have to see how much you know me, Satoru,” Suguru swiftly stated in the milliseconds of passing Satoru, speedily making his way for the opponent’s goal.

“— ladies and gentleman, has the Tokyo Trailblazers finally found their match? The Kyoto Spartans will take the lead with player Geto Suguru setting the pace!”

The second period, five minutes till the buzzer for intermission —

Tokyo (3): Kyoto (3)

Grunting as he pushed his way through the defense, despite the chaos of the stadium, he could hear the familiar crisp sound of skates closely behind him, “I heard you’re finally sleeping with her,” Suguru smirked, now skating parallel to Satoru.

“Shut the fuck up,” Satoru grunted, making every effort to keep pushing for the offense, expertly navigating through the rink while juggling the puck past the opposing team, quickly passing the biscuit to Nanami, “it’s none of your damn business,” Satoru hissed out.

“You're scared that she might not like you? ” Suguru breathed behind his ear, “when that’s all you’ve been painfully doing till now?”

Wrong, Suguru couldn’t be more far from it. 

Because since the beginning, for him, noncontingent of your response to him, it’s always been you.

And outside being the gifted athlete who’s endowed with greatness, with you, Satoru had two personas.

the one that desperately fucked you.

Crashing into the lockers, the impact of your back being further pushed onto the cold medal sent shivers down your body with every desperate thrust of his cock into you. It was awfully dangerous to moan out of his name, let alone to even breathe when his teammates were just outside the door.

“Shh, be a good girl,” he grunts while slowly fucking his cock out of you, only to ram it back in with even greater force, while his hand simultaneously covers your mouth, “don’t want people to hear you getting fucked, do we?” 

Muffling your moans with his palm, his cock relentlessly pistols in without any leisure to be accommodating to your aching core. His breathing becomes more hitched as his thrusts become more languid to press deeper — his length reaching as far in as it can go — it would be an understatement if you weren’t scared that he could practically rip you in half in this position.

You grab him. and your nails dig deeply into his back, marking his skin with angry scratches of crimson red. maybe he was a masochist, but the pain of your nails coloring his back was nothing compared to the pleasurable satisfaction he got when your gummy walls suffocated his cock.

Kicking out his teammates, only to fuck behind their backs as they cluelessly started on their warmups before a game was routine.

He’s memorized every inch of your body, studied where it makes you writhe, tremble, and immediately latch onto him for your dear life while he helps you reach your high. 

And right now, he knew. He can feel it in the way you’re clenching down on him that you were close. Not that he had any idle leisure of his own, but just enough to pump his cock feverishly into you, bullying past your abused hole as he lavished in the melodic symphony of his balls slapping against your cunt.

He has you folded against the wall, his arms holding you up and hitched under your thighs while he mercilessly fucked you. The burning in his muscles and the strain he felt in his body was nothing comparable to the heaven he was experiencing with your powerless stance under him while his hips snapped forward, his cock dominating your insides with his hand covered in your drool.

“—Toru please” you tried yelling, only for your voice to fall faint each time he rutted inside you, his cock completely disappearing in your body only to magically reappear to stretch you out again and burrow its length deeply within.

“angel,” he taunted, his breath fanning against your heated face, causing your eyes to swell up in tears when your eyes linked with his, briefly opening up his hand to allow you to breathe, “you gonna be quiet?”

You softly nodded, your insides clenching to stop the weird pressure that was building up inside, “it feels weird here, Toru — ahh it’s too much!” you whimpered, touching your tummy while your body ricocheted from his force.

“Yea? Then cum for me princess, I know you’re close,” he growls into your ear, his hot breath making it even more difficult to breathe, “you’re such a good girl taking my cock so well,” he praised, groaning when he immediately felt you throbbing around him in response.

The moment you see stars and your mind fall blank is when thick ropes of cum shoot inside you. you can almost feel the individual splurge of his hot seeds coating your walls, with every desperate thrust he made to completely milk out his cock, his tip throbbing while he grunted with pleasure. 

“I fucking love —” he rasped out, face nuzzled into the cave of your neck. it was difficult to mesh out his last word from his harsh panting to catch his breath as he felt the lumps of his cum squeeze past his member, still inside you, splattering onto the floor with a warm trail of liquid gushing down his thighs.

“good luck today,” you whispered.

Luck? he didn't need.

But you? he absolutely, detrimentally did.

Or, the latter.

The one that, still, fucked you — because he loved you, like a lover. 

With the days that surpassed as being his friend — with benefit — the more he’s taken a place in your life. It started with freely coming over after practice — fucking, despite not having a game the day after. Your bathrooms would naturally have another towel hung, and an extra toothbrush would stand next to each other.

Groceries were always Satoru’s duty, while you stocked up on the self-care necessities. Satoru particularly loved getting a facial with you with all the high-end masks and oils, cuddling under the blanket while you both watched cringy romcoms.

But it was undeniably his personal favorite when he could give you a facial with his cum splattered onto your face — it’s beautiful seeing you covered with his seeds. Or when his face is drenched in your sweet juice, despite his lungs desperate for air he immediately pushes you further down to sit on his face when he catches you trying to move away.

It’s become a ritual. you've become his religion.

He comes at exactly 8:47 P.M. And you wait for him.

The key to your door opens at the exact time. 

He grins when you walk up to greet him.

“Waited for me?” he softly cooed, placing his index finger under your chin, his lips onto yours while sucking gently before pulling away, a string of saliva connecting you both, but quickly snapping when he brushes his thumb across your cheeks.

If the universe orbited around you, he was your centripetal force.

“So pretty,” he praised while looking into your eyes, breathless as if he could be absorbed into it.

“I have food —” 

"Later,” he abruptly cuts you off, pulling you close to his body, ”but, I think —” humming with his lips barely brushing against your cheeks, his hand squishing them together as he confesses.

“— I'm gonna fuck you so hard,” his voice was unusually sweet for saying something so crude, “that you won't even be able to see out of those pretty little things."

You softly gasped, flustered and unsure of how to respond to such a comment. Instead, you roll your eyes as your hands find the back of his head to pull him into another kiss, moaning into his mouth as he grinds the throbbing erection in his sweats over your heated core. 

His hands roam around your body, particularly groping your ass before his fingers tug at the waistband of your shorts — his favorite ones that always managed to get him bricked up.

"No panties, huh?" He states with amusement, "Aren’t you a bad kitty acting all coy,” he chuckles.

"Shut up," you retort, your cheeks feeling hot under the pressure.

“You don’t want it?” he rebuttals, taking a step back as if there was even a choice.

It’s infuriating how much power he had over you, enticing you in his grip as you mindlessly frolicked in his palm. And it doesn’t help that he looks… well… he looks gorgeous, dangerously handsome — especially with his hair mildly wet, and his warm body fragrant with cologne and body wash. 

“I said,” wrapping your arms around him, further pulling him by the neck — so close that you can feel the tent that’s bulging under his sweats and the desperation that overflows in his visage while he angles his lips to perfectly match yours, “fuck me.”

“That’s more like it,” he murmurs before kissing you — it’s feverish and wanton, the type that makes you weak in your knees and your core to burn up in flames. 

His steps immediately guide you to your bedroom, groaning and grunting while clothes are being stripped off one by one, leaving a trail of evidence with no intent of stopping the kiss. 

Your feet knock against the foot of the bed, his signal to push you onto the mattress, abruptly ending the kiss as he looks down at your flustered expression with a smirk on his lips. 

Relishing in your gaze, Satoru strips in front of you. Pulling his shirt over his shoulders with one hand, he flexes his stomach and takes his time to get naked.

He knows you'll look — you always do. Outside of being an athlete, what was the purpose of hitting the gym? To catch you lusting after him. He can practically see your mind racing with thoughts, and he couldn't wait to show that he's better than what your silly, pretty, little brain could ever imagine him doing to you.

Examining him from top to bottom, propped up on your elbows, you absorbed the sight of his smooth, toned chest as he stripped, the dentures of his muscles beautifully sculpted down from his chest to the crisp lining of hip dents that led to his crotch. 

Leaning over, his body caging you with his toned arms, he gently places a kiss on your forehead, “like what you see?” he chuckles, “I’m pretty sexy, right?”.

"what the fuck?" you suddenly gasped.

“what?!” he whines — you can see his hair practically deflate.

Brushing your fingers over his chest, running your hand down to his abs, it’s smooth and toned. “thought your nipples would be pink,” you snorted, pinching his nipples.

He flinches at the pain, "it’s a brownish pink, for your information," He states, pouting, “and you’ve only noticed it now after how many times you’ve seen me naked?”

"I’m joking, stupid," You laughed, the melodic tune of your joy ringing in his ears like a constant melody.

“but I’m pretty right?” he pouts, biting your shoulders and softly kissing his denture marks. 

“Yea sure whatever,” you breathe out, throwing your head back as he now kisses up your neck, your heart just about to burst out of your chest.

"Let's get this off, hm?" Satoru kindly asks while tugging on the bra strap.

Obediently nodding, you raise your arms like a kid, and he pulls it off over your head. And unlike the trail of clothes you’ve both left behind, he manages your garment with care — especially after the last one he “accidentally” ripped.

His hands rest on your stomach, fingers stroking every curve before he brings them up to cup your boobs, pushing up your breast to squish it softly.

“Feel good?” he asks, watching your expression slowly unfold in bliss.

And before you know it, he's dragged his hands down to your thigh, his fingertips softly grazing slowly to your panties, getting dangerously close to womanhood.

"Tell me how much you want me to touch you," He whispers, and in response you shove your fingers into his hair, gripping tightly.

The light callous of his fingertips trail over your clothed clit, gently stroking the base with his fingers, feeling your panties slowly becoming more damp with each touch. 

Further opening up your legs, allowing him full access, he immediately takes the offer and ventures further along. situating himself in between your thighs to pull your panties off, kissing your hardened bud while peering up to see you touching your breasts, it’s a sweet sight to see for Satoru — breathless — while you longingly waited for him to just hurry the fuck up. 

“god, you’re soaked,” he groans, chuckling as he murmurs, “That’s fuckin’ cute.”

"Right there-" you whisper, and he nods, dragging his fingers along, slowly moving them around to stimulate you as he sucked on your clit, taking his time to prep you

“You still didn’t —” The vibration of his voice further stimulates your needy pussy, gasping as you curve your back, desperately reaching for more of his perfect stimuli, “answer my question,” he states.

"Don't piss me off," you groan, pushing his face back into its rightful place.

"Goddamn," He mutters, the grip of his hand on your thighs becoming harsher, and the stuck of his mouth further fueled fire to your core. 

"I don't know how much longer I can wait when you treat me like that," he grunts while standing up again, simultaneously pushing down his pants and briefs, wasting no time as he wiggles out of his sweats.

You can see his dick is hard, twitching as it greets you. 

He exhales heavily, stroking his length as he situates his head to brush over your pussy. He’s seen it countless times, but will never get enough of measuring just how far he can settle inside you. The sweet plush of your tummy offers more cushion and excitement as he watches you hitch up your hips, impatiently waiting for him.

"aren't you excited?" Gojo says with a grin, using his thumb to rub circles around your clit, guiding himself past your folds, purposefully missing your entrance to coat himself with your natural lubricant.

He doesn’t even wait for your answer, and wastes no time pushing himself in, pulling out a whimpered groan, allowing your walls to open up and welcome his entrance.

He picks up his pace, rhythmic and balanced while sliding his hands under your hips to lift you up slightly to make sure his entire length can fit inside. 

"You're so tight.” Satoru grunts with a furrow in his brows as he dug his nails into your ass. hissing through his teeth while he continued to fuck through your tight hole, “You don't make this easy for me, do you?" He mocks, his grip tightening on your hips as he pulls you forward, your naked breasts bouncing with every impact.

You close your eyes, feeling every inch of his cock inside you. The slight tickle of his trimmed pubic hair brush against your clit as he slowly starts to roll his hips.

"You're so —" You whined, concentrating on keeping your sanity every time his tip painfully brushed back your sweet spot, "ngh — lazy!"

"Lazy, huh?" he scoffed, licking his lips like a predator locked in on his prey.

“ahh!” you yelped. within seconds you immediately find yourself on your stomach with Satoru’s weight crushing you from above. flipping you over without notice, wrapping a hand under your jaw as he turned your face towards him to deeply kiss, his feet harshly spreading and locking your thighs apart while his cock rammed into you, his balls splattering your wetness with each thrust.

"Maybe I won’t be so lazy if you become my girlfriend,” He states with a smirk, “just give in angel, you like my cock.”

“fuck — ‘Toru! slow d-down” you managed to cry out his name, his cock mercilessly thrusting into you, “you have n-no,” by now you were a babbling mess at how good he was fucking you, drooling with your lungs burning inside your ribs, “game tomorrow.”

“boo you’re boring,” He provokes, pushing his hand under your stomach to pull you on all fours, “never answering my questions.“ 

It doesn't take long for Gojo to adjust himself behind you. especially since your dripping cunt made it so for him to slide through every time. but it takes moments for you to readjust to him — every new position meant greater access for his cock to rearrange your insides.

“but this pussy will always be my good luck charm.”

It's almost as if you can feel his smirk as he grabs your hips, and begins to roughly pound into you in doggy.

"Look who’s lazy, c'mon, keep hips up, angel," He effortlessly teases, spanking your ass and firmly gripping onto the pulsing flesh.

"S-shut up, asshole,” you hissed, putting your head down on your arms for more leverage — it’s shocking how you’re not flying onto your headboard from the force of him thrusting into you.

"That's rich considering your asshole is right in front of me.” he chuckles, spreading open your cheeks to see your other hole pulsing on top of the one he was currently fucking, the rim barely withholding his girth, “ wanna try anal? it’s pretty, by the way."

"D-do you ever shut up?" You complain, reaching over to grab your pillow to muffle your moans. but in that split second, Satoru catches your wrists and pulls you backward, your back heavily arching and breasts rapidly bouncing in all directions, mimicking the robust thrusts of his cock pistoling into you.

“how can I, when you look so pretty,” his thrusts become more aggressive, “getting” thrust, he watches you crumble, face contorting in pleasure, he can tell you’re close, “fucked? thrust “by” he quickly catches your hand trying to reach down to stimulate your clit, “my” deeply pushing in, further splitting you open in half, the tip of his member knocking against womb, “cock.”

“too much…ahhh—wait! ‘Toru!” The bed violently shook as he drove his cock, balls slapping your wet pussy as your legs trembled with warm liquid dripping down from your thighs, slowly pooling onto the sheets.

“just say it, princess, you love me,” he growls, thrusting more as he nibbles on your lobes, pleasurable tears sliding down your cheeks as you instead gasp out his name.

“at least your pussy is honest.”

---

“I’m not here to talk, Suguru, get the fuck out of my way,” Satoru growled while pushing the other off.

“Don’t tell me, you still got no pussy to ask her out, Satoru,” the raven hair taunted.

“Nanami!” Satoru called out noticing his wing’s position wide open to shoot for a goal. It was apparent in the way Satoru briefly lost his balance, his composure starting to chip away from the strain of his muscles that he was getting exhausted — a feat Satoru would normally never struggle with until the last couple minutes of the game. 

But speedily passing by and braking with thick shaving of ice spraying from the sudden stop, intercepting the puck when Nanami passes — a gameplay Suguru’s practiced countless times with Satoru — the Kyoto’s center was now in possession of the puck, taking no moment to rest before charging the opposite direction.

In those split seconds, Suguru jeered, “wasn't this our favorite play?”

“Fuck!” Satoru muttered under his breath, quickly changing momentum to skate the opposite way.

And just before the buzzer goes off, Suguru easily angles his stick to chip the puck, the force of the impact causing the biscuit to shoot straight into the net.

Satoru huffs just meters away, dumbfounded at how much Suguru’s improved and curated his craft. A force he once relied upon and leaned on, trained tooth and nail while shedding blood, sweat, and tears together since fourteen now has become a thorn to his side that contrived to bring him down, Suguru bypasses his once best friend, standing in shock.

“are you still in denial, or have I answered your question about who’s the traitor, Satoru?”

Tokyo (4): Kyoto (5)

Intermission before the third, final period —

A tie (6:6)

It was the longest eighteen minutes of your life. no one dared to even speak. Through the chatter and vibrancy of the stadium, only the heavy huffs and gulping of electrolytes of the players were heard. Even Yaga-Sensei just sat there, brows furrowed with his thick arms crossed over his chest.

And Satoru, too, silently sat on the bench, leaning on his elbows parched to his thighs, manspreading with a towel thrown over his head. The heat of his body contrasted with the gelid stadium had faint white smoke radiating from his expended body.  

“Satoru,” you gently called out while handing out a fresh towel for him to use, “you’re going to catch a cold.” 

“Don’t need it,” he dully murmured without taking a second to raise his head to acknowledge you.

“I —,” Yaga Sensei grasped hold of your shoulder to stop you from saying anything regretful that would further disturb him. Biting your tongue, you sighed, “Sure.”

The cold response of someone who literally just rearranged your guts so wantonly before the game, sharing an intimacy with him throughout the years that bloomed into something more than what you’d like to acknowledge than simply being a friend with benefit caused both frustration and helplessness to boil within you for not being unable to help him.

Not like he needed your help, nor did he ever ask. But from time to time, you wished he would let down his burdens with you, and allow you to carry his weight for a while.

Only once has he ever shown you his emotional side. The infamous night when Satoru received the news of Suguru’s departure, you found him drunk in front of your apartment waiting for god knows how long.

all you could remember was that the night was awfully cold for someone to have a broken heart.

That night, despite no words being said, the comfort of your arms and the warmth of your skin helped him to sleep despite the storm that raged in his mind. 

It was understandable his mood. Normally he wouldn’t be so emotionally invested in a game, even if he had lost. During intermissions, he would either be chatting up a storm, blowing your ear off about all the plays he’s made and if you’ve finally fallen in love with him. Or, two, he’ll be listening to you nagging at him to not go throwing his opponents against the wall while wrestling for the puck.

Hockey was aggressive, but it was also an athlete’s duty to learn how to play smart and do their best to abstain from injuries that could potentially harm their career — especially, if the athlete in question is one preparing for his national debut to representing Japan in the Winter Olympics the following year.

Awkwardly, eyeing your expression, Haibara laughed while scratching the back of his head, cheerfully asking, “I would like a new one, mine’s a little damp.”

“Me too,” his blonded friend chimed in, his voice not as enthusiastic as Haibara’s.

Smiling in appreciation, you lent them a towel and extended the care to the other players as well.

“Why’d you give him the steal?” Sensei bluntly asked, looking at the rink while sternly watching Suguru make his way onto the field. His ex-disciple gave his old coach his respects with a little bow when he caught his gaze. 

“Are you seriously asking me that right now?” Satoru numbly stated, the clenching of his fists reflecting his true emotions.

“You know what to do,” Yaga-Sensei firmly stated, pushing his sunglasses up his thick nose, wasting no time before the buzzer rang again to redirect his player, “you know him better than anyone else, trust your instincts.”

Twelve minutes till game —

The crowd roars. Currently in the last period, with a couple more minutes on the clock to crown the final winner, both teams ferociously fought to control the game. 

The pluck clicks with each hit against the blade. Speedily sliding against the ice it was almost difficult to see it on the field. 

Currently, in possession, Nanami pushed forward, putting pressure on Kyoto’s defense as Haibara simultaneously rushed to the other side, leaving Satoru wide open for a pass. Nanami prepares to hit a pass over to his captain, hitching the puck in the air for a quicker velocity towards Satoru, who’s ready to receive —

The glass walls tremble on impact. Flinching at the loud noise, your eyes widen when you see it unfold in slow motion. Both bodies harshly collided against the wall with Satoru getting sandwiched between two forces. expelling out a groan as he slid down the wall, with puffs of white smoke spewing from his lips with each harsh huff of his chest. 

“Seems like a brawl has occurred between the two captains!” 

“And from the looks of it, Gojo Satoru is struggling to get back on his feet!”

“No,” you muttered under your breath, face paling and body going cold despite the adrenaline pumping through your blood, you pushed your way through the audience to get to where he was.

Your mind felt like a minefield. With bombs ticking, threatening to explode with each step you took. Nauseous from the anxiety, it was becoming increasingly difficult to breathe as if there was a ball stuck in your throat. And despite the efforts to try and stay calm, it was rather difficult when your thoughts replayed the countless other injuries Satoru sustained during your time as his manager.

“He’s going to have to take at least 8 to 10 weeks off for his fracture to heal.” The emergency physician stated, pointing at the small crack on his right clavicle.

“He probably won’t listen,” Sensei remarked, crossing his arms while letting out a deep sigh, “is there any way he can recover faster?” 

“It’s fine guys —” Satoru tried playing it off.

“Shut up,” you and Sensei simultaneously interjected, scolding him to be quiet as if he were a child.

Clearing his throat, “As I was saying, it must’ve been painful for him to have played in this state, I imagine this was an ongoing injury he’s sustained in the past,” the doctor murmured while further analyzing the film.

You immediately shot daggers at him, glaring when the doctor unintentionally outed Satoru’s injury he’s been keeping a secret. Flinching, Satoru slowly sank further into his bed, covering his face with his blanket. 

“Though, being diligent with his PT and fully resting his body for at least six weeks will be the fastest route for recovery.”

But, well… it doesn’t take more than five weeks for you to get a text from Suguru.

From: Suguru

Don’t get mad… 

To: Suguru

You saying this makes me already mad. What happened?

From: Suguru

Just bring some icepacks and some sweets and head over to Satoru’s place. 

To: Suguru

I swear to god if you guys play —

From: Suguru

... it's his fault.

And it doesn’t take you more than thirty minutes to be blowing up his doorbell, knocking on his door at exactly 12:34 A.M. with an ice cooler with icepacks and a bag full of his favorite candy. 

Thud! 

“Fuck… ow that hurt.” You heard a muffled voice through the door. 

“It’s me.” You curtly announced.

Quickly opening the door, his elbow leaning against the door with an insouciant tone to his voice, he cracked a boyish smile, “Ah, isn’t this my favorite person. What brings you here?” 

“I told you not to —” Rage bubbled up inside you as you glared at him. 

“Okay!” Nervously holding up his hands, doing his best to calm you down, “before you get mad —”

“I’m already mad, Satoru —”

“Okay! Fine! Before you get even madder,” taking the heavy loads off your shoulders, settling them onto the floor, his warm hands cup your face, “it’s really nothing big. Just feels a little strained that’s all,” he tried to reassure when he sees you about to object.

“Really, I’m fine,” his eyes urged you to trust him, “I just… missed being on the rink, that’s all.”

Your eyes soften when you see the little sulk on his lip, and notice how he’s lost a little weight in his cheeks. Quickly letting out a deep sigh through your nose, you mumbled out, “I’ll be the one to decide if you’re fine or not.”

---

“Take your shirt off.” You ordered, firmly holding onto the hem of his white shirt while saddling on his thighs.

“Oh wow.” he placed his hands on his chest, acting innocent from your forwardness.

“Satoru, take your shirt off,” you grumbled, pulling at his shirt and rolling your eyes when it was easily removed, despite him acting naive, again his hands covered his bare chest — just managing to barely cover his sculpted pectorals.

“It’s really nothing,” he blushed, awkwardly looking off to the side with a guilty smile. 

“Satoru you just took off your sleeve,” you murmured, placing an ice pack on his collarbone, your voice filled with worry. 

“I’m really fine, baby,” he loosened up after seeing the cute pout on your lips, your brows faintly furrowed as your fingers ever so lightly iced his injury.

“I’m not your baby,” you stated with a glare, clearly not impressed with his defiance to go against his doctor’s orders, “I don’t date people that don’t listen to me,” you said without much thought while tending to his bruised clavicle.

“Oh —” his ears perked at hearing your words.

Fuck.

“Wait! What I meant was —”

It was evident that he was trying to contain his smile from the way he bit his lips. “You so wanna date me don’t you?” 

---

It’s not a surprise how you ended up in this position.

It started off with a light kiss, lips softly meshing with each other with light teasing of tongue — he swore, it’ll be just one kiss.

Soon enough hands start to idly move on their own accord, groping areas, and massaging places that wouldn’t particularly follow with just one kiss, leaving you both simultaneously panting and yearning for more. 

And then you’re grinding on his throbbing cock, spit slightly leaking from the edge of your mouths while tongues feverishly fought for dominance, naked with your pussy pulsing and dripping in need to swaddle and engulf him whole. 

Progressing forward, you’re slowly sinking onto his length, bottoming out with your ass seated on his thighs, foreheads linked while you both took a minute to adjust to one another. like an unspoken language, you both solemnly breathed, that even if the world crashed around you both, nothing would matter because the other was there.

He’ll cum.

It’s beautiful how he does it. And in moments like these, you can’t deny that the man who’s chasing after his high under you was the man you loved. 

With his mouth gaping open, his white brows furrow as he gasps for air while his large hands grip your bum, spreading out your cheeks for easier access through your hole. He desperately thrusts into you, unrhythmic and hips helpless from the warm seduction your plush walls have over him. His seeds shoot straight to your womb, filling you entirely with pulps of his cum leaking through your cunt. And it takes him a couple seconds to breathe as he rides out his high. 

And then you’ll be sandwiched in between the sofa and his heavy body, his cock rummaging inside, amplifying the sound of his member shoved through your dripping cunt. It’s loud and sloppy the way he fucks into you. Wanton and bashful in the way his muscles tighten in tandem with you clenching down when his head hits just the right spot. 

Your legs immediately wrap around his hips, securing him down to fuck you in that position. And he doesn’t retaliate from the limited position, instead, he welcomes it. With his face burrowed into the curve of your neck, his palms pushing your thighs to your chest—  biting, clawing, scratching, and licking — doing whatever it takes for you to rectify the burning ache in between your thighs, and for him to release his seeds into you again — again, and again, and again. 

“—toru! please,” you cried out and in your plea, he answered, “I’m right here,” Satoru groaned, “Keep up with me — fuck, I swear, jus’ a little more.”

Tightly wrapping his arms around you, his face nuzzled closely to your ear. Despite him already being inches deep within you, his every grunt and pant, the desperate moans he releases while he states your name, mixed with delirious curses has you craving for more.

With his mind hypnotized from the pleasure of his cock rummaging your insides, swaddled in care despite his cock bullying past your folds, he becomes possessive and carnal.

“This is mine,” he harshly bites your shoulders, pleased when you yelp while simultaneously tightening your reign on his cock burrowed within your walls, “all mine. You’re fucking mine,” he proclaimed.

“ — ‘Toru please keep going fuck right there!” you sobbed, cheeks stained with euphoric tears.

“Just say you want it,” he growls muffled with his lips smashed with yours, “tell me you want me.”

“yes, I want it. I want it so, so bad — need you so bad ‘Toru!” you mewled, letting out a soft whimper, feeling the vibrations of his grunts, pulses of ecstasy pulsing through your veins and straight to your core as you succumbed all authority and control for him to do whatever he desired.

“Fuck fuck fuckkkkkk.” he curses when he hears your words. Like a broken record, it echoes in his brain, with every release of his cum, his breath hitching and body vibrating as he finally reached his climax.

The voice of you calling out his name so dearly repeats so melodically in his ears. 

Soon, the room once filled with the savage slapping of wet skin and immoral use of dirty curses of pleasure while you both partook in unholy matrimony was now filled with a thick smell of post-sex pheromones, coupled with softened breaths and sweet hums of foolish lovers. 

“Be careful,” you softly mumbled, under him, while your hands lightly weaved through his damp hair. you placed a soft kiss on his bruised collar, his pale skin accentuated the blue-green tint, making it look far worse than it was.

“aw, you worried for me? I’m so touched,” he faked a sob as he pulled you tighter into his arms, mumbling while he lavished in your warmth.

“I still didn’t forgive you,” you lightly pulled on his hair. his eyes were droopy and his body felt even more heavy over your limp one. 

“Yea?” he hummed closer to your lips, gently kissing you while slowly grinding his hips to your wet core, “thought your harder harder ‘Toru harder was you forgiving me,” he lightly chuckled in between kisses.

“You’re the worst,” grumbling as you tightened your arms around his neck, snuggling closer to his warm body.

“Wow, you love me? I’m so touched,” Satoru softly chuckled, gently stroking your heated cheeks as he held you in his arms, he too, soaking in the warmth and feeling the beatings of your heart. 

—

Your eyes focused on nothing but him despite the chaos around you — just a couple of steps from touching his slumped body,

A loud buzzer goes off, quieting your thoughts, the loud announcement ringing static in your ears. 

“ Sustaining the blow, Gojo Satoru gets back on his feet again! He proves once again on the court he is The Honored One!” 

Two minutes till game —

Head throbbing, and every inch of his body burning from the strain, Satoru vigilantly fought for control of the puck. Every second felt like an eternity, and every stride of his skates felt tortuous as if every fiber of his muscle were being torn apart.

Satoru quickly passes to Haibara, and fastidiously receives the puck again when he's open. Faking a move to juke out his opponent, Satoru was getting closer to Kyoto’s goal. 

It was evident that fatigue was overwhelming each player on the court. With their voices hoarse, and sweat starting to sting their eyes, while puffs of smoke perspired with each agonizing breath causing their lungs to burn in their chest, no one was willing to back down.

Watching from the side while nervously biting your cheeks, you observed the game as Satoru flew through the rink. From the calmness of his eyes, and confidence in his strides, to the quickness of his feet and the gentle care to his game, things started to make sense.

For the man that obnoxiously barged into your life, ruining your pair of white shoes, to managing a spot in your heart, he sure made you fall — hard.

On one random afternoon while you watched him soundly sleep in your arms, lightly drooling as he mumbled something incoherent about some zunda and cream at Sendai Station — loving him came easily.

Because even if you tried running away, your feet would always end up back to him. And you knew the fire that you'll hold for him was going to burn, but you couldn’t resist the flame that he lit in your heart.

“With seconds to the clock, with Gojo Satoru’s lead, the Trailblazers are fighting desperately to win this game!”

Gojo Satoru — with him, it wasn’t exactly love at first sight, but it was something like that. 

“The Spartans are putting up a ferocious fight, Geto Suguru tries to steal the puck but is unsuccessful! Ladies and Gentleman, Gojo Satoru goes for the goal —”

Satoru sped his way across, the white tint of his jersey barely recognizable with his speed. The crowd cheers, sirens blow off to the throne the victors of this year’s champions.  

And currently, tears freely flowed down your cheeks. And you let them despite the blur as you rushed onto the rink, the soles of your shoes about to slip on the scratched ice.

Because the saddest word in the world is almost, and he was worth more than being dwindled down to a regretful almost. 

And if you had to defy fate, and create your own ending, so be it. You’ll suffer the consequence of meddling with destiny, and amend for your sins, in the future, when you’re dead if that meant there was a guarantee to have him in the present. 

Because in the world of almost 8 billion people, somehow your worlds are intertwined. 

“Be careful!” He panicked, throwing off his helmet as he rapidly skated over to you, “You’re going to hurt yo—”

Grabbing holding of his jersey, you slammed your lips with his — with thousands in the audience, cameras obnoxiously flashing up the rink in all directions. 

You won’t hear the end of it from Yaga-Sensei, he’s certainly, most definitely mad. 

Your anonymity is fucked, and now everyone will know you as the ‘girl that kissed Gojo Satoru’ — probably will be trending on all socials for at least a week, and that's being generous. 

Maybe you were delusional or so high off adrenaline that you didn’t notice the mayhem surrounding you  — especially not Satoru’s shocked expression when you suddenly kissed him. 

But your ignorant bliss was soon interrupted when you slightly opened your eyes and were met with a thousand flashing lights that almost blinded your vision.

“— oh my god!” you squealed, immediately embarrassed at what you just did, only for Satoru to quickly hide you in his embrace, your face nuzzled into his chest. 

“Looks like I’m not the one that’ll get in trouble by Sensei time,” he teased with his cheek placed on top of your head.

“Get me out of here,” you whined, “I’m so embarrassed…”

“Nah” Satoru cheekily smiled, tightly embracing you, “not until you give me a date.”

“You didn’t make the last shot stupid, Nanami did.”

“False, I assisted,” he stated after briefly calling out for one of his teammates, “If you weren’t so lovestruck by my handsome face, and actually saw my brilliant performance, then you would’ve seen the phenomenal play I had with Nanami.”

“Satoruuuu,” you whined, lightly stomping on your feet, getting increasingly squirmish from all the mess you’ve created.

“Told you,” whispering into your ear, “I’ll always win,” he stated before pushing his helmet over your head, reaching down to hold your hand as he led you out of the rink. The confidence in his walk looked almost arrogant, with you helplessly following, as he made his way to the lockers — a routined celebration after a game now as your boyfriend —

“Because you're my lucky charm, babe.”

author's note: if you made it to the end, thank you. i didn't expect a silly thought to lead to my distress about creating another au for him. But nonetheless, I hope you've all enjoyed ◡̈

@masterlist . . . bsd

Dazai Osamu :

- ada!dazai x gn!reader

- pm!dazai x gn!reader

- bodyguard!dazai x f!reader : pt.1 , pt.2 , pt.3

- drunk!dazai x f!reader

- ada!dazai x camgirl!reader : pt.1 , pt.2

- toxic!dazai x f!reader

Fyodor Dostoevsky :

- fyodor x gn!reader

- fyodor x f!reader : pt.1 , pt.2

- fyodor x gn!reader

- fyodor x gn!reader

- fyodor x gn!reader

Back to tojifile’s about me post !

Hi do you still do fic recs??? Cause if you do I would LOVE some with either an unsub!reader or psycho!reader! :)

Spencer Reid x Unsub!Reader Fic Recs

Slow Dancing in a Burning Room by @incognit0slut (18+): This isn’t a love story. This isn’t a fairytale. This is about a woman bent on setting the world on fire and the FBI agent assigned to her case, drawn to the very flame she ignites.

Icarus and the Moon by @imagining-in-the-margins (18+): Spencer and Unsub!Reader have had a not-so-friendly rivalry that turns even more dangerous when they start to fall in love.

Protége by @/imagining-in-the-margins (18+): Spencer learns something very interesting about his friend when a prolific serial killer winds up dead.

My Baby's got a Gun by @writer-in-theory (18+): Of all the agents, they never expected Spencer to get caught in an unsub's web - most dangerous of all, they never expected it to be her.

Where Nobody Knows by @fortheloveofwonderland (18+): Spencer understands the concept of Bonnie and Clyde Syndrome, he just never expected to be experiencing it himself.

Midnight by @/fortheloveofwonderland (18+): When Spencer Reid left the BAU after his stint in prison to pursue a more unsavoury career path, the last thing he expected was to have company on his journey. But after finding yourself in the wrong place at the wrong time, you become entangled in Spencer’s murderous web and the inadvertent Bonnie to his Clyde.

Flirting with the FBI by @reiderwriter (18+): Spencer is getting annoyed with Unsub!Reader and decides to discipline her when he finally finds her

The Daisy and the Bee by @sinfulspencer (18+): When Spencer Reid is sent to look after a serial killer, he learns she might be into him. And he might be just as interested in her.

The Black Dahlia by @sinfulspencer (18+): After her escape from prison, Reader has changed and she's thirsty for revenge. Spencer can't help, but fall for her even more. Even harder.

Too Close to Home by @snixkers: The unsub was an officer, but they didn't realize which one.

~ get free (3/3)

pic creds luvpngs | gif creds akashi-tetsuki

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ pairing: asylum patient!nikolai x asylum attendant!fem!reader

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ genre: smut w/ plot + dark content; 18+ only pls!

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ content warnings: smut/nsfw, kidnapping, mentions of abuse + death, manipulation, violence, unhealthy relationships, infidelity (revenge hehe), slightly yandere!nikolai, dubious consent, husband yapping, i'm proofreading this tmrw🤓

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ summary: you've been kidnapped by your patient and taken to meet "dos" and another member of the doa. you notice someone familiar and are forced to make a quick decision. will you free yourself or stay in another man's cage? ˚₊‧꒰ა read pt 1 & pt 2 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ word count: 5.6k

Your head was pounding and your eyelids felt heavy, along with the intense soreness coursing through your body, especially on the left side of your waist. Trying to open your eyes through the blinding light, you could barely make out two figures in front of you--they looked like they were talking, so you tried to listen to the warped voices as much as you could with the remaining consciousness you could muster.

"Nikolai, I've meaning to ask you..." A deep, disinterested voice inquired. "What are you planning to do with that?"

"That? Don't be rude, Dos! This is Dove, I wrote to you about her in our letters, remember?" You could make out Nikolai's whines.

"Yes, but what use does she have for the Decay of Angels? If she's just another plaything, then she doesn't belong at the base. Besides, that woman is just another liability."

Nikolai sighed annoyedly, "She's my lover. I intend to keep her with me. I'm sure we can a way for her to contribute later," he smirked, "I guess you wouldn't understand though...When's the last time you felt the touch of a woman, anyways?

You heard Dos scoff loudly at Nikolai's remark, "Fine, do what you like with her. Also, Sigma and I have finished getting information out of the target, so he's ready for disposal in the basement. He was a real pain to deal with."

Nikolai giggled at that, joking more with Dos. The exhaustion was taking over you again, though, so you couldn't keep yourself awake to glean anymore information from their conversation.

You heard the two men's voices fade out into the background as sleep overtook you once again.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

When you finally woke up, it was dim. You winced as you got up and took in your surroundings: the silk sheets you were under, a large bed, a spacious gothic-style room, cream curtains covering tall windows, and cuddled next to you...Nikolai?

You flinched lightly when you looked down to see his eyes staring directly into yours. He got up slowly and pulled you into his strong arms, moving the stray hairs--which had been mysteriously braided--out of your face and kissing your forehead lovingly. "How are you feeling, myla? Did some of the pain go away?"

You blushed as you felt his warm chest against you. He was shirtless, and all of the passionate hickeys you'd given him were exposed. Nikolai smirked cheekily when you stared at them for too long and watched your blush deepen when you realized you were wearing his white button up with nothing underneath. You looked so cute in the oversized shirt, so his.

Confusion coming back to you, you pulled away a bit, "Wait, Nikolai, where are we?" You frowned, last remembering being in the bath house, "The asylum...what happened?"

A sigh left his lips as he placed your head on his shoulder, "Well, after we had sex in the tub--by the way, you're pretty good at riding--" heat rose in your cheeks from his dirty comment, "back up was on their way and I didn't have enough time to explain things, so I needed to subdue you quickly for us to escape. That was why I had to use the tranquilizer on you. Sorry, you must've been shocked..." Nikolai stroked your hair softly, but you pulled back in bewilderment, staring into his softened eyes.

"Wait, why couldn't you just tell me that before? And how did you escape so fast? Where is this pl--" Nikolai cut you off suddenly, dramatically pressing a finger to your lips, "This is the Decay of Angel's temporary base...we're pretty far from the asylum and ran away like you wanted. I couldn't tell you anything because we needed to know if we could trust you." You tried to object at that, but your ex-patient only pushed his finger further to silence you. "And how we got here? Hmmm..." he paused to giggle manically, "Well, dove, that's a secret I can't tell yet...I'm a jester after all. I have tricks up my sleeve that I can't reveal to the audience--even to pretty girls like you~" You groaned as he replaced his finger with his lips and peppered kisses all over your flustered face.

He clearly wasn't telling you everything, but you didn't have any choice but to believe him. After all, you were still in one piece and out of the asylum, and he'd at least taken you to a nice place with silk sheets and roses. Nikolai wouldn't lie to you or harm you without a good reason, would he?

You pouted, "Fine, I believe you..." Nikolai grinned proudly and rolled off the bed. He stretched and threw you your black biker shorts and underwear that he'd pulled seemingly out of nowhere along with a loose white shirt that matched his uniform linen pants.

"Come on, pryntsesa, there's someone I want you to see."

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

You shakily stepped forward as Nikolai led you deeper into what seemed to be a basement. The walls were covered in pale bricks and dimly lit lanterns--keeping up with the medieval theme of the overall base. In the barely illuminated darkness, you could make out what looked like a jail cell. You kept trying to peer at Nikolai to ask him where exactly you were going and who he was taking you to see, but he only stared ahead with the same proud smirk on his face.

Maybe he was taking you to meet Sigma? Or the other members of the Decay of Angels? You shivered thinking about the fact you really were in their base; Nikolai's files had detailed the notorious group and the various atrocities they'd committed. Now that you were with them, you wondered if that made you a hostage or co-conspirator. You briefly recalled Dos mentioning "the target" in the basement. Was that who you were going to see?

You were snapped out of your thoughts when you bumped into Nikolai's back, his soft braid tickling your nose. You muttered out a quiet apology as he flipped on a switch to brightly light up the jail cell you were in front of. He turned slightly to face you and smiled gently at you as he brought you in front of him, putting his hands on your shoulders and making you blush. Some sudden cries grabbed your attention to what was in front of you, causing you to instinctively recoil at the familiar face staring back at you.

The boss of the asylum--your husband.

"Dear, is that you?" His raspy voice called out. Getting a full look at him, he looked worse than ever--sweaty disheveled hair clinging to his forehead; uniform tattered and stained with dirt, sweat, and what appeared to be ash; and a desperate, blown out expression on his face. You couldn't believe your eyes--Why was he here?

"T-that man kidnapped you, didn't he?" He got up from the floor and stepped closer forward in response to your silence, "L-look, I don't know w-what those terrorists told you, but that f-freak--" your husband shrieked, pointing at Nikolai but quickly bringing his finger down in fear, "--burned down the entire asylum and dragged us here. The new girls, the guards, they all got burned or severely injured." Your eyes widened as he started crying and wailing miserably, "A-and Lacey...sh-she's dead...what a brutal way to die...Oh God...Lacey--" The boss clutched his face as tears streamed down his face, mixing with the ash and further sullying his appearance.

Disgust and shock hit you, partly from the mess in front of you that was still reminiscing about the home wrecker he'd cheated on you with and partly because of the events you'd just learned--assuming your husband wasn't lying, Nikolai committing arson and presumably killing Lacey were details that he kept from you. You turned to face the jester, but he only kept his smile from earlier--eyes now devoid of warmth and stoically cold, gazing back into your dilated pupils before turning your head around back to the cell. You shuddered lightly: that was him confirming it was true.

Your husband's eyes twitched at your lack of reaction. He abruptly lunged towards the jail cell, clinging onto the cell bars and struggling against them to try to reach out to you. You screamed as his arm extended in your direction, and Nikolai stepped back to wrap his arms protectively around you, pulling you into his chest.

Your husband was banging against the bars, "Please! L-listen to me, darling!" You cringed at the fake nickname. "Forgive me for what I did in the past and save me--I'm sure h-help's coming. After this, I-I'll...buy you a new car and w-we can go on a nice vacation, start a f-family--start over, y'know?" He gave you a distraught smile, and you cringed at his pathetic display of promises. There was absolutely no way you could willingly go back to a man who'd abused and betrayed you.

Snot was now falling down his nose as he tried to fix his hair and steady his voice; he was practically yelling at you now. "Look, I'm sorry for cheating on you. Lacey was just too tempting...but I regret it, a-and now I know that I really love you." You weren't convinced, he was clearly just trying to save face. "S-shit!" He clanged against the bars again, knuckles turning white from how hard he was gripping them, "I'm trying to apologize to you, dear. I love you--I'm wearing my ring for fuck's sake! C-can't you see that that freak's manipulating you?" He tried to make eye contact again with the white-haired man in front of him, but only cowered back in fright after meeting his intimidating gaze.

You could sense Nikolai glaring back as he tightened his grip around you. It made you frown seeing your husband trying to act like he knew everything about your relationship...Nikolai wasn't manipulating you; he loved you in the way your unfaithful husband never could.

"What are you talking about?" You asked sadly, completely shattering whatever pitiful resolve your husband had left. He gasped horribly and fell to his knees, realizing that you were too far gone, too in love with Gogol.

He stopped when he looked up and noticed your bare neck. "Your ring...why isn't your necklace on?" You traced around the empty space, feeling how light it felt now that it was gone. Nikolai smirked in response.

"I--"

"She doesn't need it anymore." Nikolai replied darkly, cutting you off. He laughed a bit, the expression not quite reaching his eyes. He turned to you, startling you a bit. "Actually, you threw it away yourself, didn't you, dove? 'Cause you don't love him anymore." You nodded affirmatively, exasperating your husband even more as he resumed his sobs. Nikolai only curled his lip up coyly at his reaction and brought one of hands down to stroke your inner thigh provocatively as another brought your chin up to kiss you passionately. Heat flowed throughout your body as you blushed deeply. You couldn't tell how much time passed as you felt dizzy after he slipped his tongue in. The anguished cries in the background were drowned out as Nikolai pulled away slowly, making you flustered from the string of saliva left behind.

He licked his lips satisfyingly and gave you a peck before whispering in your ear, "Go on, ptashka, tell him how you feel."

Flush still on your cheeks, you looked directly at your old partner, who was now shaking in agony, "He's right--he's not manipulating me, either. I'm not yours anymore, and I don't want our old life back. I--" Nikolai was still stroking your thigh and was dangerously close to your panties. "I--mmh--I'm in love with Kolya now, and I want to be with him." You missed the pink on Nikolai's face as you saw your husband practically collapse, banging on the ground as he bawled awfully.

"Y-you fucking slut! How could you betray me like this? A-nd your p-parents--w-what would they think about this?" You backed away from the cell, bothered by his yelling. You wished he would shut up already.

Your husband's rambling was stopped suddenly as the sound of a gun cocking reverberated off the brick walls. It was from Nikolai. He placed it in your hands while gazing into your eyes sincerely. "Dove, you've been trapped in this man's cage--stuck on a ride you want to get off, but you keep riding. I want you to decide...If you want to keep playing his game or live your own life."

Your eyes widened at that. This was your chance to change your life and free yourself from the burden of your old life. There was no more chasing rainbows and hoping for an end to them, no more waiting for an inconsiderate man to love you. There was no sure promise of a better life if you saved him and went back to him. Their arches were just illusions, solid at first glance, but when you tried to touch them, there was nothing to hold on to...

Shit, what the hell were you thinking about? Could you really kill someone by yourself so easily?

Brain an absolute conflicting mess, you felt like you had a war in your mind. You couldn't think clearly as your thoughts jumbled together, and the intensity of the cold metal was making you unsteady. Nikolai noticed and wrapped his warm hand around your shaky one, bringing it up to aim at your husband's head.

"Do you want him gone, myla?" He whispered into your ear, placing your finger over the trigger. "All you have to do is shoot, and it'll all be over." His soft whispers drowned out the sound of your husband begging for his life and backing away desperately in the background. Nikolai gave you the same warm smile as before and his usually dull right green eye was sparkling with emotion. In a strange way, it was comforting, reminding you that you weren't alone.

You didn't remember much after that, just feeling the gun go off and Nikolai's hand over yours, followed by a deafening silence. You winced as you felt something wet against the side of your skin and blood splattered across Nikolai's white clothes. You didn't dare look at your own shirt. Your heartbeat was so loud in your ears, and you swore you were about to explode. Nikolai was grinning and laughing maniacally, while you could barely register your own emotions. You slowly turned your head to peer into the cell, but Nikolai put his hand out to block your sight. It was probably for the better, anyways. The stillness already confirmed your husband was dead.

Instead, Nikolai put his hands around your face and crashed his lips onto yours possessively. You closed your eyes as he muttered sweet nothings in between kisses and wrapped your arms around his torso, collapsing as your body slowly gave out and the gun dropped to the floor.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Nikolai kissed your forehead gently again as he wrapped a warm towel around your shivering body. After leaving the murder scene, you'd taken a shower together. You guessed it was like 'washing away your crimes' and getting clean again. It was strange, despite how lovesick he was over you, he didn't touch you sexually at all while washing your body. You thanked him and mustered up a small smile as you turned away from towards the mirror.

"Are you still shaken up, myla?" From your--no, our--first kill?" You stared into your reflection and looked down, basically giving him your answer. "It's okay, it's human to feel guilt and remorse after a death...even a horrible monster like me still feels that way, too!" He beamed at you, giggling contagiously.

You pouted back at him, feeling a slight burden lifted off of you, "Don't call yourself that--you're my lover now..." You mumbled, blushing slightly. You could love each other openly now.

He smirked and hugged your waist, the fabric of his clean white button up--unbuttoned and exposing his toned six pack--and black slacks pressing against your skin. He'd gotten ready while you were spacing out in front of the fogged-up mirror, but you couldn't help stopping to admire how handsome he was.

"Ahhhh, I almost forgot...I never told you why I fell in love with you in the first place, did I, dove? You looked up at him curiously and he kissed the tip of your nose, "It's because you reminded me of my past self. Unknowingly in a cage, slightly different from the rest--I still remember the pretty little smile you flashed me the day we met and how sweetly you treated me...kinda unprofessional by the way...flirting with a crazy man..." Nikolai slowly trailed his kisses over your jaw and down your neck, making you start to feel warm inside, "I wanted to free you from the control of the outside world...I could tell you already had the willingness to change and just needed a small push." You yelped as Nikolai bit down softly to mark your collarbone and dropped the towel from your body.

You instinctively tried to cover up your body, but Nikolai stopped your arms, placing them on the rim of the sink instead. His hands left your waist to fondle your tit, drawing circles around the hardened bud while his other hand crept down your stomach to slip over your slit. A familiar rose dusted your cheeks as he kissed your neck softly and a moan slipped out from you, "A-ahhh, K-Kolya..." He nudged your jaw up towards the mirror.

The fog had evaporated away, so you could now see your reflection. To see yourself in such a lewd, shameless state, completely naked while Nikolai was basically fully dressed was...you couldn't describe it. He tenderly kissed your skin again before grinning at the mirror and taking his hand off your chest to lift up your face.

"Look how cute you are, dove. You really love my touch, huh~?" He pulled his slick-covered fingers out from your thighs and licked them clean. Watching him do it through the mirror was an enticing sight: it made you want more. Nikolai wasn't oblivious to your slight panting and trembling either. "Watch clearly as I make love to you, pryntsesa." His fingers dipped back into your cunt, parting your folds as his middle finger slipped inside of you while his thumb played with your clit. His other hand resumed massaging your breasts as he licked down his trail of kisses. You couldn't help but mewl at his actions, getting wetter watching the sight in front of you.

It was strange, he was typically rough and forward, but he was unusually soft with you this time. You didn't have time to think about why as he inserted another finger and went at a slightly faster pace, making you start to rock your hips against his hand. You moaned as the sensation coursed through your lower half, fingers gripping the rim of the sink and ass arching into his back, making you blush when you brushed against his clothed bulge.

"Mmmm~Kolya...your fingers...they're--ahh--s'good--"

"Y-yeah? You like 'em, pretty girl?" He heaved into your ear. He wanted to be gentle with you today, but the sight of you in the mirror and the way you were moaning his name so angelically was making him more hot and bothered than he wanted to admit. "C-cum whenever you want, 'kay?" Nikolai pumped his fingers more intensely into you, needy to make you finish as you struggled against his hold, the pressure making you lose balance and lean forward. He sturdied you against his chest again and captured your lips to pull you into a deep kiss, your tongues wrapping around each other.

The coil in your stomach got tighter as his long fingers pressed against your sweet spot, and his pointer and thumb coming together to pinch your sensitive clit finally sent you over the edge. You cried out his name as you came all over his fingers, staining the front of his pants and shaking from the intensity of your orgasm. Nikolai gently kissed away your tears as you came down from your high, hugging your waist and caressing your sides.

You gasped as you heard him unzipping his damp slacks, and you looked in the mirror, your eyes traveling straight down to his hardened member. Nikolai started stroking his length slowly, pale pink tip sticky with pre-cum, as he lowly groaned your name. "S-sorry dove, I--fuck--wanted to play with you more, but I--ah--can't wait any longer..." Heat went straight to your core upon hearing that.

"I-it's fine, p-put it in..." You looked back at him sweetly before parting your folds with your pretty nails, and he grunted after seeing some of your arousal drip down your thighs.

"F-fuck, myla, you're so beautiful~" You hissed at the feeling of Nikolai teasing past your slit before entering you slowly. Even though he'd prepped you more than last time, you still whimpered lightly from the stretch, secretly making him smirk pridefully. He silenced your moans with another gentle kiss as he started thrusting inside of you, lewd sounds bouncing off the walls. Both of his hands went back to your tits to play with them again as he broke away from the kiss, groaning into your neck as he pushed deeper into your pussy. It wasn't enough for him, though.

He lifted your leg up slightly and bent it slightly at an angle before drilling his cock harder into your cunt, your hands pressing close to the mirror as your back arched, so he could go deeper inside you. Nikolai groaned and bit his lip as your walls clenched around his length. He soothed your pleasured cries by kissing down your back, pressing his abs against your hot skin. The foggy reflection of your tits bouncing up and down with his movements and the fucked-out expression on your face made him moan lowly, praising you for taking him so good.

You whined at the tight feeling in your core as your pussy sucked in his cock. The feeling was so good you were moving your hips back and forth to meet his thrusts, ass recoiling perfectly in response. Nikolai was still hyper-focused on leaving hickeys on your skin and squeezing your tender nipples, and his hot breath tickling your neck was driving you crazy. He groaned as you squeezed his length again, pre-cum starting to leave a creamy ring at the base of his cock.

"A-ahh~ I'm close--keep going, p-please--" You begged, desperate to cum and hoping he wouldn't edge you like last time. He smirked, pleased by how needy you were. He nodded, locking you in another messy kiss as his free hand traveled down to your hips. Nikolai pulled away from you slighly, before re-entering you harshly, making you see stars.

You choked on your moans as you whimpered his name, pussy clenching around him even more. He was breathing heavily, and his thrusts were getting slower and messier, signaling that he was close, too. You got up slightly on your elbows and looked back at him affectionately, "I love you, Nikolai."

His eyes widened as he pulled your back against his chiseled stomach and buried his face into the crook of your neck, secretly blushing like crazy. His strong arms came back to wrap around your waist, making you yelp when you felt him all the way inside you. "L-love you, too, dove~" He rasped quietly as he came in your pretty cunt.

The warmth made you moan as you followed with your second orgasm, panting at the euphoric sensation. Only Nikolai could make you feel like this. He pulled out slowly and turned your fragile body around towards him, hugging you intimately and kissing your forehead softly. He tucked your damp hair behind your ear and kissed the spot again, "You did so good, myla." You hugged him back, nuzzling into his chest and blushing when you heard his frantic heartbeat.

"I'm so happy you're mine now..." He whispered quietly, kissing your head again before steadying you against the sink to wet a towel and clean himself off. Nikolai bent down a bit to wipe you down, and you impulsively ruffled his fluffy white hair, making him giggle and plant a small kiss on your inner thigh. You smiled adoringly.

So he has his soft moments, too, huh.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Your and Nikolai's hands were intertwined as he led you to a grand dining room. Apparently, you were supposed to have dinner and meet two other members of the Decay of Angels. You fidgeted nervously as you approached the grand dining table, which was decorated with gold candelabras and a cream cloth table runner. Despite the warm decorations, the room still had a slight eerie feel.

The two men seated at the end of the dining table looked up at you. Nikolai had given you some fresh clothes, lending you one of his oversized chunky cream sweaters and a silk midi skirt that he'd quickly sewn out of the sheets. From the occasion, you'd learned about his surprising little hobby. On the other hand, he kept on his white button-up--now loosely buttoned--and just changed into a different pair of black and white striped pants.

Nikolai placed his hand on your waist and beamed excitedly, "Sigma, Dos, meet Dove! She's my lover and is going to be staying with us from now on!" He pushed you forward a bit and you nervously bowed.

"N-nice to meet you both. Thanks for accepting me, and I hope we all get along." You cursed yourself mentally for not coming off as confident as you wanted, but you couldn't help but crack slightly under the two men's stares.

Dos, who was sitting at the head of the table merely sneered silently and continued glaring at you as you sat down next to Nikolai. The man sitting across from you offered you a bashful smile instead, "N-nice to meet you, too. I'm Sigma." You smiled back at him, secretly grateful that he was trying to cut the tension.

Nikolai clapped his hands, "Okay, we've gotten introductions out of the way! Let's eat now~" Your eyes drifted to the bowl of pelmeni soup and borodinsky bread in front of you. To be honest, you were starving but concerned since Dos hadn't touched his food at all and was still intently staring you down.

Sigma cleared his throat and spoke up again, "Y-you can eat the food. It isn't poisoned or anything. Ivan made it." Ivan? You didn't know who that was, but you nodded and thanked him quietly, trying a spoonful of the soup. You wished you could just scarf it down, but you decided to eat in a ladylike manner as to leave a good impression.

You weren't quite sure if you'd impressed Dos, though, who had finally introduced himself as Fyodor Dostoyevsky a few minutes later, resting his chin on his linked hands.

"Welcome. We're the Decay of Angels, a terrorist organization that commits murders and causes great fear and suffering--find a way to make yourself useful or you'll be disposed of--" He stared straight into your eyes, "--by me personally." Your heartbeat increased in fear and your hands went slightly clammy upon hearing that.

Nikolai put down his spoon, "Oi! Be a bit more gentle with her, will you?" Fyodor's gaze left you and he turned to Nikolai, "I know this is the first woman you've interacted with face-to-face in years, but you're already threatening her? Seriously? No wonder you're single..."

Fyodor's eyebrow twitched in response as Sigma turned away, obviously trying to stifle a laugh, and he and Nikolai glared daggers at each other. You hid your face in embarrassment as Fyodor scoffed annoyedly and dismissed himself from the table, taking his dinner with him. So much for getting along.

"God, he hates me now...he's probably going to murder me in my sleep..." You looked sadly at Nikolai, but he only grinned snidely.

"Don't worry about it, ptashka, Dos is just like that. Anyways, the mood's lightened up so much now that he's gone, right?" He giggled maniacally--unserious as always. Sigma chimed in as well, trying to cheer you up,

"Y-yeah! To be honest, I haven't spoken to him much, either, and I've been here for a while. He's just the serious, loner type." You weren't convinced fully, which he noticed. "I-I'm the general manager of the sky casino." You looked up and nodded, hearing about it before--a luxurious place for people to gamble away their fortunes and essentially be ungoverned and off-the-grid. "If you're not doing anything tomorrow, why don't you come and visit? I'll give you some money, on the house!" You perked up at that, taking up Sigma on his offer, much to his relief.

"I'll be going, too, just so you know." Nikolai butted in, making Sigma sigh and tell Nikolai he wasn't invited didn't have to come with. The two bickered back and forth, Nikolai being insisted on going to the casino with you two.

You giggled at that, they were just like real friends. Perhaps your stay here wouldn't be too bad--at least now one more person liked you. Sigma and Nikolai stopped arguing after hearing you laugh and looked at each other before smiling softly at you. You yelped as Nikolai jumped at you suddenly to attack your face with kisses, making Sigma cringe.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

You'd finished dinner with Nikolai and Sigma, successfully being cheered up from the previous tension. It wasn't too long-lived though, as Nikolai had asked you to get Fyodor's dirty dishes. You tried to object, but he'd simply just waved his hand at you while he resumed washing the dishes with Sigma.

Knocking on the door to Dos's room, you hesitantly cleared your throat and spoke, "Can I come in? I just need to get your dishes." You heard him shuffle around and click his tongue,

"The door's unlocked. Come in." You gulped before turning the knob and entering. The stone room was cold and barren, with the only 'decoration' being a table holding several different monitors and keyboards. The room was only lit by the screens, which were circling with code and all sorts of information. Fyodor didn't even try to acknowledge your presence or turn around, so you just tried to step around the various cords on the floor and grab his bowl in front of him.

He was reading a book in his chair, and still didn't speak a word, but you could feel his glares cutting into the back of your neck, sending shivers down your spine. You grabbed the bowl and turned back around, again trying to avoid stepping on any cords, as your eyes curiously tried to see what book he was reading.

He rotated his chair briefly, "You know, being a housewife isn't--"

"Crime and Punishment?! Oh, I remember reading that book in the asylum's library. It's a great commentary on the transformative power of guilt and the possibility of redemption, isn't it?" You chirped, instantly regretting your impulsive input on the book. Why did you have to be such a bookworm?

Fyodor's eyes widened slightly as he closed his mouth, truly caught off-guard, "Yes, it is." He went back to his book as you shyly smiled and made your way through the cords, back finally turned away from him. He paused, "You can borrow it if you like. I can give it to you tomorrow after breakfast."

You stopped in your tracks, turning your head slightly. You were only met with the sight of his chair, though. "R-really? T-that would be nice, actually...Thank you." You trailed slowly towards the door before leaving. "G-goodnight!" Flustered, you closed the door quickly, missing him saying it back and the pale rose that was dusting his cheeks.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Life with the Decay of Angels had been going surprisingly well. It had been two months since Nikolai had taken you to the base, and you'd adjusted in that time span.

You got close with Sigma, who admitted he was a bit intimidated and scared of you at first because you were Nikolai's lover, but he was relieved you weren't exactly like him. Fyodor had become more open and accepting of you, and you both mostly connected over the literature he would share with you. Nikolai tried to keep you away from him as much as possible, though he would never tell you why...

You had become a decoy of sorts and helped Nikolai on the ground with disguises and espionage. Currently, you were both infiltrating Mersault. You had learned that the true reason for Nikolai coming to the asylum was to get a hold of the space-creating ability that both Mersault and the asylum were built with. Fyodor was hoping to harness it to build a secret, impenetrable base for the Decay of Angels.

Criminal profiling and socialization skills from your previous attendant position had come in handy when going undercover, along with your "feminine charm" that none of the other members possessed. Of course, Nikolai was all too excited to have you working with him, never missing the chance for quickies or subtle flirting and teasing. You couldn't exactly say that you hated it, though...

Whenever you walked around in public, you would occasionally see a "missing" poster with your face and information on it. You would always discreetly rip them off, though, having no desire to be found or go back to your old life.

After all, you'd finally crossed the threshold from the ordinary world to a new life with your true lover. You'd been freed, and you were never going back.

˚₊‧꒰ა bad ending (will be linked once finished🤫)໒꒱ ‧₊˚

TRASH SUGAR MAGIC

➛ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 5: ᴅᴇꜱɪᴅᴇʀᴀᴛᴜᴍ

➛ nikolai gogol x fem!reader

➛ cw: past abuse, violence, psychological drama, angst, light fluff, mature content, very suggestive | words: 6.5k

➛ ao3 | spotify | main menu

Unknown place, many years ago.

The bus was late.

You sat alone on the bench at the bus stop, eyes watching the people in the park just across the street—a group of friends which you recognised to be from your school as well. They were having their time together, joking around, being loud, uncaring of how the others perceived them—in this case, no one really was looking at them other than you.

How lucky.

You had forgotten what it felt like to have such a tight group bonded together. Sure, you knew a lot of people—but they were never reaching beyond your line, always staying where they would be considered as colleagues or schoolmates.

You wondered how fun it would be to experience such things. Do they have a group chat only with them? Do they go out every weekend to catch up with each other? Do they know each other's parents? How many secrets do they know about each other?

How do they even make friends?

You instinctively reached into your pocket, only to remember that you possessed no smartphone of your own. Your father did not allow it—as he did not want to pay for your internet services. Besides, there were more traditional ways that can you do to achieve so many great things—or at least that's what he told you to kill your small ounce of hope.

The bus arrived.

You got into it and tapped the metro card you hardly tried to get. But you still needed to top up the amount of the card and that just meant you had to work more hours tomorrow in the local convenience store.

You took a seat and once again, you observed your surroundings. You saw a pair of father and daughter sitting in the row next to you, just a few seats ahead. The daughter was chattering—something about a new bookshop she wanted to visit, and the father was nodding and listening intently, with a soft smile on his face.

Annoyance somehow was boiling in you.

You did not realise you had been clenching your skirt as you watched their interactions. And when you turned away, your eyes were fixed on the small television on the bus. It was broadcasting a mourning event for government officials in Yokohama, Japan who were mass-murdered brutally by a terrorist a few years ago. It seemed that the government officials were cut in half with some kind of circular saw.

Scary world we live in… But it must be nice to have people mourn for you.

The ride on the bus took about fifteen minutes and you walked for another five minutes to finally get to your house. You opened the door, entering the house after you took off your shoes.

“I'm back.”

You saw the sight of your father getting ready in the living room. He was wearing his watch, looking somewhat fancy.

“Are you going out?” You asked but he said nothing other than reaching for his keys and wallet. He was going out indeed. He looked like he was going to have a formal meeting with someone and perhaps it was far away because you saw him taking a backpack from the couch.

Why do you always leave me alone?

“Where are you going? Can I come?” Again, no answer. He only glared at you and you already flinched, shutting your mouth before something else got thrown in your direction. You silently made your way to your room, but you paused when you passed by the calendar.

You turned to your father who was wearing his boots. Gulping nervously, you opened your mouth, asking, “Today's mom's birthday,” He was already sighing and standing up. “Could we—”

Your words were halted when your father stomped towards you, grabbing you by your hair. He yanked your head, shouting things you could barely process due to the shock.

“SHUT UP! Can't you just shut the fuck up! Stop asking so fucking much, stupid bitch!”

You shriek, trying to get away from his hold. He shook your head by your hair roughly before shoving you back, causing your head to bump against the wall hard. You winced, holding your spinning head.

“I was just asking about mom! She was your wife! Don't you care?”

“I fucking don't! It's been fucking years and you're still being a fucking child!” He shouted before he angrily turned away to leave the house. “I'm not gonna be back for a few days. You make sure this house is clean or I'll fucking sell you, bitch. If only that's possible because nobody wants your worthless ass!”

The door slammed closed. Your lips quivered.

Tears did not come out. There were no more of them left.

You slowly nodded to your gone father—he would not see it but you just felt the need to respond to his command. You quietly got to your room.

It was great to be alone—you now were left with a bit of freedom. Solitude, after all, is your closest friend.

Today was your mother's birthday. Perhaps you could make a run to the convenience store you currently work at—usually they have those staff discounts—to buy some sweet foods.

Your mother loved sweet foods. Or so you thought. Your memories of her had become clouded and you did not know which one was real or unreal, for your brain might as well have created fake memories to fill in your desire to experience such joy again.

You did not even remember how and why she died.

But it did not stop you from celebrating her birthday and mourning for her. Wouldn't it be lonely to have no one mourning for you? You could not just imagine how scary it is to be so lonely after death—and to have no one to mourn you, it would be a crueller punishment.

You truly pray you will not be lonely—but it seems inevitable at this point in time.

You got to your room, ignoring the lingering pain on your scalp due to your father's pull on your hair. You put your school bag on the floor and open your closet to get your savings box. But your face ashened when you noticed the clothes were all messy and unorganised. You dug your arms into the closet, reaching for the savings box.

Light.

You opened it—empty.

— ♡

“Yeah, I'll wait at the usual place. Okay, 4AM. As usual, yeah.” Nikolai says with a low voice, a phone is held close to his ear. He occasionally takes a peek at the living room, making sure you are not doing anything stupid.

“Is there any update about this girl, Vik? It's been like a week now.” He asks and he hears Viktor sighing from the other side.

“Not at all, bro. I've sent messages to the loan sharks and they only say that they're still working on their part. My best guess is that they are actively trying to figure out where her dad is before using her as a hostage. ” Viktor replies with a grunt. “Have you asked her about her daddy again? Maybe she tells ya? ”

Nikolai purses his lips. It has been a week after he abducted you and the only time he had asked about your father's whereabouts was in the first few hours you woke up from your soundful sleep. He actually has not asked you more about it, not even when the chance presented itself. Matter of fact, he does not even remember thinking about asking you whenever the chance presents itself.

Has he gotten soft over you? No… No, that's impossible. Nikolai would not let himself be vulnerable again. He would not let a small fracture for anyone to see through him. He has learnt that the hardest way already. And he will not repeat it again.

But it feels like your fingers are digging in that fracture, prying, clawing, creaking open his heart—those innocent gazes are the devil, he thinks.

“Kolyushka?”

“Huh? O-Oh. Right, yeah… about that… Uh, she doesn't tell me…” Nikolai quickly says. Viktor hums suspiciously and Nikolai already dislikes the tone in his voice. He tries to compose himself. A single thought about you has his mind wobble and the grip he has on his ideal is starting to loosen.

“She doesn't tell you… or you didn't ask her? ”

“She doesn't tell me.” Too quick to lie.

“Right… Uh-huh. Something tells me that you two—”

“Wait.” Nikolai is about to respond to him but his word is stuck in his throat when he catches an array of smacking noises coming from the living room. “I'll talk to you later.” He says shortly to Viktor before ending the call abruptly. Nikolai rushes to the living room, stomping.

“What are you doing?”

He sees that you are smacking the broken television multiple times as you rapidly press the buttons on the remote control. Nikolai gets to you, purposely groaning loudly in annoyance. He wraps his hands around your body, pulling you back. His nose takes a short whiff of your scent—it is already getting similar to him due to you using his soap and shampoo.

If you are his lover, he would tackle you right there and then.

“Fuck.” He takes a short breath. Now really is not the time to think with his dick. “Get up. You crawl from that fucking couch just to smack this TV?” He says as he yanks you and practically drags you back to the couch. You whine at the force of his rough hold and the straining rope around your ankles.

Turning your head to him, you pout. Your hands are on his strong arms and your newly polished baby-blue nails are grazing lightly against his skin. Nikolai swallows nervously before he shuts away his thoughts and tosses you onto the couch.

It has always been like that for the past several days. You can sleep and wake up whenever you like, eat whatever Nikolai gives to you for lunch, clean yourself while he guards the door and for the rest of the day up until past dinner, you are just sitting in the living room with your ankles bound to the couch leg, accompanied with little entertainment Nikolai provided for you. Old books, old magazines and outdated newspapers. And oftentimes, you are just chattering with him and him only.

“I am bored! I have read most of these… old reading materials you gave me.” You complain, trying to raise your body for whatever agenda you have in mind. Nikolai frowns, lightly tapping your cheek as he pushes you to sit on the couch. He holds your shoulder, pinning you to lean back as he towers over you.

“Know your place, little doll. There's nothing here to satisfy all your demands.”

Your shoulders drop in disappointment, but your eyes are lingering on him for too long—and Nikolai notices that. He has been noticing the way you look at him and he hates it. He hates the way you observe and stare at him, especially the way you say his name.

No, he is not denying anything. He wants to convince himself that this is a trick. It must be. It must be, it must! His heart will not betray him anymore, will it?

“… Sit there.” He commands and you nod slowly. Nikolai purses his lips and sits on the floor instead. He takes out his phone and texts someone mysterious as you only watch him quietly.

“You are always on your phone… What are you up to?” You ask and he only glances at you. He knows that ignoring you would just spike up your curiosity. Every question you bring up will end up with a full-on conversation. Even if he looks away, a sweet call of his name is enough to make his irises slide towards you.

He does not really have anyone else to talk to other than Viktor. Even so, he does not trust Viktor one hundred percent. He does not trust others as well. Nikolai is an avid liar—a trait he still keeps as long as he remembers. He lies so much that he distrusts so much.

“I have a job, darling. How do you think I can still afford shit in this economy?” He replies. You open your mouth to say something but Nikolai raises his hand, stopping you. “I know what you want to ask. What exactly is my job, right? I do dirty work. Including… this.” He grabs your ankle, nudging it up before he drops it.

“Is it rewarding?”

“Depends.”

“What's the most expensive one you have ever gotten paid for?”

“Eating humans.”

You gasp and shake your head. “That's… not funny…”

Nikolai scoffs—a smirk curves on his lips as his thumb slides around his phone screen again. “You don't wanna know, dolly. If all of my crimes were actually presented during my trial, I would get a death sentence. But, luck was on my side. Sort of. The laws have been so weird.”

You are not saying anything back and Nikolai's eyes trail up to you. And he takes a moment to appreciate your appearance—you are wearing your baby blue dress again today after days of wearing his clothes to compensate for your lack of clothing. When you sit, the hem of the skirt is just short enough to reveal more of your thighs.

Cute.

No. No no no, I did not think that. Not again. Not again.

“I find it weird.” You suddenly say.

“What weird, darling?” He asks back and he swears he could hear your little flustered noise which you submerge desperately with a small cough. He holds himself back from smiling but quickly straightens his expression—God, how he dislikes how easily his lips curve.

“Uhm… Well, you have been doing dirty jobs for a while after you got out of prison… But you aren't caught again. And… when you said 'If all of my crimes were actually presented', does that mean you were convicted because of a few crimes?” You ask, leaning towards him. Closer, closer, closer that you might as well rest your head against his arm. Nikolai squints his eyes—aren't you supposed to be afraid of him? You are getting too comfortable to be so close to him right now.

“Obviously.”

“But, see, see! That doesn't make sense, no?” You are getting a little too enthusiastic about this topic, clasping your hands together. “You are roaming freely in this country, because you leave no trail of your crimes, right? I'm sure you are! I mean, you are very skilled.” You say with a strange admiration. “Surely, you are very careful to not leave shreds of evidence of your crimes so the police won't get you. But how did the police manage to arrest and convict you for a few of your crimes? It's hard to believe that you would be careless like that.”

Nikolai's throat is getting drier—his heart is tugging downwards as his mind is expecting a lot of bad things that you are about to say.

“Were you really careless?” You mutter, as if it is a question to yourself instead of him. “Or was it because of someone else? Did you work alone before prison? Or did you have a friend—”

Friend.

“SHUT UP!”

You physically flinch and your smile drops instantly, only to be thundered with a strike of fear in a matter of seconds. Your hands automatically raise to shield yourself—as if a manifestation of anger is about to hit you.

But Nikolai is pale.

His tongue is numb and his eyes are shaking—not because of anger, but the pang of a certain realisation that he was attuned too well is returning to eat his heart alive. The fangs of that old instinct are tearing it. It grows and grows, and once, it has managed to devour him whole.

I thought I had abandoned it.

Guilt.

“I'm sorry.”

Sorry? For what? Why? This isn't supposed to happen. This is NOT how I want to be. She is scared of me now, isn't that a good thing? That is what she is supposed to do. She is supposed to be scared of me, fear me, dread me. There is no need for an apology or a mea culpa.

“No, I'm not sorry— Wait, no. No, I am. I am. I… I don't… I mean, I'm…”

He takes a sharp inhale of breath. “Fuck me.”

In less than ten seconds, Nikolai grabs his keys on the coffee table and his coat that is hanging on a row of hooks by the door. He leaves the house, without even sparing a look at you, without even another word to you. He knows he is not a good actor by now—and you can definitely read his face if he turns to you. He shuts the door, hoping he can shut away his guilt and you altogether.

His heart will get devoured more if he sees your face.

— ♡

“Kolya, are you not going home?”

Nikolai looks up from the folds of his arms, turning to Olga who serves him a cup of water. He has been in the diner since evening and now it has reached past 11PM, the time when the diner is officially closed. But Olga has not kicked him out yet.

“Uh… I am.” He says as he takes the water and drinks it. Olga shakes her head, resting her hands on her waist.

“Did you argue with your girlfriend?” Nikolai clicks his tongue in annoyance and gives back the cup to Olga.

“No, she's not… my girlfriend. Stop saying that.” He sighs. Olga tilts her head, and one eyebrow perks up.

“Do you swing that way?”

“I swing in multiple ways.”

“I see. Well, maybe you could swing out of my restaurant as well because I want to go home now.” She taps the table in dissatisfaction. “You have been sitting at the table in the corner, sleeping and asking for more vodka after your fourth cup. I hope you are not too drunk to drive.” She says.

“Nope, I got this. I got this.” He says as he stands up, stretching himself with a groan. Olga scrunches her face and just flat out her palm, asking for his payment. Nikolai grumbles under his breath as he takes out several crumpled notes he does not bother to count and places them on Olga's palm. “Geez, give me some slacks already.”

“I'm poor too, Kolya. I can't treat you all the time.” She says before she gestures her head towards the door. “Now, go home and reconcile with her.”

“I am not arguing with her.” Nikolai pouts but he leaves the diner regardless. The night is darker, approaching midnight. The snow is falling slowly, forming some icy clouds on his head. They are not heavy but it is still cold. Nikolai gets to his car quickly and checks his phone one last time before driving home.

Every step he takes to get to his unit is heavy. As he gets closer to the door, the desire to turn around and sleep in the car instead is getting stronger as well. Nikolai does not like how his chest feels right now—so tight, so caging. He is well aware of his own head and for the umpteenth time, he wishes he would never be gifted with this kind of mind.

“It's okay. Just ignore. Just ignore her.” He whispers to himself as he opens the door and enters his house. The whole interior is dark. The lights are not turned on at all.

He does not see you though.

Nikolai takes off his boots and he treads slowly further into the living room. Then he finally sees you, lying on the same couch, sleeping. He moves around the couch, noticing that your legs are still tied. He unsettles.

He realises he left you bound to the couch like this, for a lot of hours, in the dark alone.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. I am fucked.

“Hey, doll…” He kneels beside you by the couch and calls for you softly. His shivering hand traces your chilly arm and he can definitely feel the subtle trembling from you. He shakes your body slowly, attempting to wake you up.

“Mmh…” You mewl but you are not opening your eyes. He decides that it is not the best time to bother you anymore so Nikolai quickly unties your ankles and carefully places both of his hands under your knees and back. He swoops you up and walks into the bedroom. He puts you on the bed and covers you with his slightly torn blanket.

His hand rests on your waist as he stares deeply into your face. His fingers are itching to hold you—and they are clenching on your waist as his hand trails to your hip before it moves up slowly. Very slowly, as if he is trying to feel the way your side curves. His hand then rests on your head. Something is pulling the strings of his fingers, urging him to caress your head. But he pulls away quickly.

He leaves the room, back to his new sleeping place.

— ♡

Beep! Beep! Beep!

Nikolai's eyes jerk open when his ears catch the sound of his alarm going off. He groans at the pain in his back after laying on the uncomfortable hard couch for hours. He squirms—and even his movement is too limited. The couch is small and he is such a tall man—his legs are propped up on the armrest of the couch.

“Good morning.”

Nikolai turns his head to the side, jumping slightly when he sees you are kneeling by the couch, facing him. You are wearing one of his bomber jackets over your baby blue dress and he does not even want to question that anymore.

“M'rning.”

You give him a small smile and Nikolai wonders if you want to talk about his outburst yesterday. Or do you want to pretend that nothing happened? Because if that is the case, Nikolai would gladly take the chance. He does not want to talk about it at this moment.

He gets up, groaning while he is at it. His shirt is crumpled and he feels very uncomfortable. He leans to take his phone and looks at the time—8:06AM.

“You woke up early,” Nikolai says to you as you move to sit on the couch beside him.

“I was very hungry. So I helped myself.”

Guilt. Again.

“Right… Right, glad that you're… uhm… independent.” He says, rubbing his face and hiding it behind his palm. He sighs internally but not for long when he feels a tug on his arm. He turns to you.

“I made you breakfast too. As… As for my apology for being too invasive yesterday… I'm really sorry.”

Well, shit. Now I have to talk about it, huh?

Nikolai does not plan to apologise back to you. His outburst is justified. And he does not owe you anything—even a shimmer of kindness. Yes, yes, no need to be sorry about it—he is supposed to be mean and you are supposed to dread him. He is your captor and you are his temporary property to be traded to greater greatness. There is no need for sympathy.

“I'm sorry too.”

“Hm?”

He wishes he was dead.

Oh, dear me, why haven't you killed yourself when you had the chance in prison?

He wants to protest—he desires to tell you that he does not mean any of his words. This chord of apology does not come from him. He wants to make it clear to you about that, and yet, he knows he is convincing himself to another fruitlessness.

Nikolai does feel sorry.

Why do you lie to yourself? Again? —His head mocks. Mockery. Jittery. Pathetically judging his own heart he somehow is holding a sense of humanity he wishes to cast away.

“Apology accepted,” You say with a nice smile—the smile that comes from a naive heart that blinds themselves from perceiving gloom. Or perhaps you did see his gloom, which is why you accepted his awkward apology. “Now we are even, right?” You add as your hand carefully touches his.

“Yeah… I suppose so.” Nikolai swallows nervously. His chest tightens as if his heart is trying to make a flip out of his system. He pulls away his hand from you swiftly before he looks at you, scanning your figure from head to toe. And he now realises that you have been moving freely in the house when you are supposed to be in bed.

“How are you walking around? Did you—?” He bends and grips your ankle. No sign of a broken rope or anything.

“Uh… You didn't tie me last night…”

“I didn't?”

“Mm-hmm…” You nod adorably before you sheepishly say, “And… I wanna say thank you for carrying me to the bed—”

“Keep that away, I'm not gonna hear it.” Nikolai stops you immediately. If you sweetly appreciate him verbally again, he will have a harder time following his logic. “I'm gonna… take a bath before breakfast…” He says as he gets up. Your eyes follow him—like a curious cat and he only curses to himself when he finds himself staring into your irises longer than they should.

“I'll wait for you.” You say, smiling at him. You keep throwing sugars at him—Nikolai despises it.

He says nothing and leaves you alone on the couch.

— ♡

“Is it good?”

“Decent. Can't beat Olga though.”

“Well, we don't have the same type of bread as hers.”

“We? You're in my house, doll. Know your place.”

“Mm-hm. You don't have the same type of bread as hers.”

Nikolai snickers as he sips his water. He reaches for his phone at his side and scrolls the screen again. You observe him carefully, curiosity perks up when you notice he gets more serious when he spends his time on his phone.

“Why are you always on your phone?” You ask.

“I do all my work on this phone. I invested a lot in this device and gladly it worked better for me than having a complete computer set. This house will crumble if I ever get a computer. The tenant is stingy with electricity.” Nikolai replies before he puts away his phone to eat peacefully. You tilt your head—this behaviour of being tightwad to one's self reminds you of someone.

“You said my father is a cheapskate but you're kinda like one…”

Nikolai clicks his tongue at your comment. “At least I spent my money on your ass without you having to work your ass off.” He grunts and you chuckle. Upon hearing your chuckle, Nikolai could not help but smile as well—what a symphony, he thinks. However, he does attempt to hide his smile by stuffing more bread into his mouth.

“That means you're better than my father, then.” Your grin but a shadow of disappointment is casting over your face. Your grin falters as you stare at the table. “Well, that is… ironic, isn't it? My father does not even want to lend his jacket to me when it's cold… What's his is his, and what's mine is his.”

You look at him but Nikolai is just fixated on the plate, as if he does not even want to look back at you. But your piercing gaze on him does not go unnoticed. In fact, you staying silent when staring at him makes him feel more uneasy.

“Honestly, I don't know what I did for my father to treat me like that. I thought he blamed me for my mom's death but he doesn't care about her birthday either. So I don't get why he did things to me…” You say, slowly. Even though Nikolai is not looking, you have the strongest feeling that he is listening intently to you.

“You know, yesterday… Yesterday, when you told me to shut up, I truly thought you were about to hit me and pull my hair and slam me to the wall… Like he often did. Those thoughts were instant. I had a hard time trying to get rid of it even after you left. And… And then I was stuck in the dark for hours because my ankles were tied to the couch. I couldn't move to reach the switches.” You take a deep breath. “It was so scary. I hated it. But the dark isn't the worst thing. It's the solitude. I hated being alone the most and somehow… Somehow I feel like I am always with the thing I hate the most.”

Your hand is mindlessly stirring your hot tea in a plastic cup. You press your lips together before continuing with a solemn smile, “My life is pretty boring. I am a bit envious that you have an interesting background for yourself. You have a tale to tell. And I… Well, I don't even have a story to tell about myself… It always somehow circles back to my father. I don't even think my life is about me at this point.”

Your lips quiver as you find your chest beginning to tremble—a sob is about to burst out of your throat. You quickly sip your tea, swallowing and burying your sobs away although your eyes are already brimming with tears—it is only a matter of time before the droplets stain your cheeks.

“Sorry— I'm just… getting emotional.”

“If you aren't interesting enough, you won't get kidnapped. This whole thing is gonna be your own tale.”

You sniffle and look up at Nikolai. He is gazing back at you with an unreadable expression. You try to form a smile, although you are thinking hard about what he meant by that. He looks troubled and his eyes rapidly avoid yours. But his mouth seems to have a mind on its own.

“Like… Not everyone can tell a story about how they got kidnapped and lived with their kidnapper for days. And, and, and you know, have you thought about how many people can say 'I share clothes with my kidnapper' or 'I eat dinner with my captor every night' like, like that's fuckin' ridiculous, right? Fuck, what the hell am I saying…” He grumbles lowly, palming his face. But his ramble does bring a faint smile to your face.

“Y-Yeah… Maybe you're right.” You say defeatedly but the fact that Nikolai does listen to your chatter solaces your heart—reciprocating a longing in you.

“Right… Yea, so… uh… don't cry… Yeah, don't cry. You sound like a squeaky duck.” He says as his lips form a thin line. “Or whatever. I don't care.” Nikolai is anxious, you can see. He awkwardly gathers his dish and cup before going to the sink.

You only watch him washing the dishes and the pan you used—you left them there, planning to wash them later yourself. But Nikolai does it instead without any complaints. You expect he would give you an earful about your mess.

You notice how he does not raise his voice at you at all today. Does he feel guilty about yesterday still? You do want to ask about his confusion and short rambles when he 'accidentally' says sorry to you right after he shouted at you.

Come to think of it, you have been observing him for a while now. You take notes of his subtle quirks and you do notice a certain similarity in some of his expressions with his confused apology yesterday.

Conflict.

Nikolai sometimes looks conflicted about things.

Annoyance is quite easy to detect—it is evident in his tone. But when he is conflicted, his eyes bear no anger or irritation. Rather, he looks lost. Too lost. As if he is thinking a lot of things at once. As if he has many voices in his head talking to him at once. As if a lot of invisible hands are trying to reach him at once.

“I know I tell a lot of things about myself…” You speak and he turns his head to you. “I just find it easy to talk to you. I like talking to you and I like hearing you talk as well… I would like to know more about you.” You smile cutely.

“Might as well, might as well. Maybe then you'll fear me properly like a captive would.” Nikolai snorts before he continues cleaning the dishes as fast as he can. He finishes the task after three minutes and he goes to dry his hands with a napkin.

The heaviness that loomed earlier is lifted—the air is no longer tense. You open your mouth to converse more about your curiosity about your kidnapper, only for him to suddenly pull your arm, forcing you to stand up. As soon as you stand, he wraps his arm around your torso, holding you close and tight. Nikolai says nothing other than dragging you out of the kitchen and to the bedroom.

“Hm?”

“I'm going out. Got a job to do. You're gonna stay here, tied. I'm not taking risk.”

His sudden roughness triggers your fight-or-flight. You harden your footing and Nikolai looks at you, shocked actually. He stops and you nervously ask, “W-Wait, Nikolai… C-Can I come with you? I-I don't wanna be alo—”

“No, you can't and you will stay here with food and warmth. I'm not tolerating your demands. This is an important job.” He cuts you off, yanking your body. You yelp at his force and you whine, struggling against him—whining, whimpering. But he is not even affected by your thrashing as he drags you to the bed. He pushes you to sit.

Nikolai sighs as he stands right in front of you, looking down at your pleading gaze. Your pouty lips are muttering his name as your hand is tugging on his shirt. He inhales deeply and has to look away—as your hand is just too close to his belt.

Mind is going wild. Your pleading eyes and the way you beg for his sympathy are tickling a side he has put away when he thought his lust was nothing but a hindrance. Lust is so unimportant, he thought, but now he has an intense desire to satisfy it.

“Hey, Kolya! Don't just leave me!” You whine, tugging on his shirt again and again, causing his body to sway forward and closer to you. Nikolai feels his heart beating faster when he leers at you. He can feel his face getting immersed with crimson when his eyes—like a magnet—trail down to gaze on your chest and then thighs. You are not even wearing your white stockings along with your dress today and the lower part of the dress is already short enough. Even if he closes his eyes, he already sees the lines of the dress. Even if he closes his eyes, he can already imagine you. And his hand is still blazing with the memory of when you placed it on your thigh at the laundrette a few days ago.

Days—and he still wants to touch it, feel it in his hands.

Touch it, hold it, kiss it.

“Nikolai..! Don't just ignore me!” You speak again, seizing him out of his mind, but not too far out since he is partially thinking with his dick now. Nikolai sighs and stares into your eyes, trying his best to not pervertedly look at your body any further.

“No, doll. I won't let you out in the public's eyes.”

“But you know that I don't like being alone…”

“And you don't know what I'm dealing with internally, doll.” He mumbles, holding both of your wrists with each of his hands.

“Then tell me. Aren't we—” You gulp, searching for his eyes. You bring your hands closer to your chest, unintentionally making Nikolai's hands closer as well. He bites his lips and mutters your name slowly in frustration.

“Aren't we friends already?”

“Stop. Please, just stop.” Nikolai groans and jerks his hands away from you. He sighs loudly, repeatedly saying 'Fuck, fuck, fuck' under his breath. He groans once again with his hands resting on his neck. He is clearly very agitated and unfortunately, he could not hurtle out that agitation other than letting it boil in his head—you can see that.

And he is also conflicted.

He takes a long inhale and throws his hands into the air. “Fine. Fine, you know what. Sure, you can come. I'll bring you with me.” He says and you gasp delightedly. Nikolai turns to his closet, rummaging to find something in it. He also takes the chance to wear a black coat over himself.

“R-Really? I'm coming as well? Then… Then I should get ready too, right?”

“Wait a second. I need to give you something. This job is dangerous and you really need this.” He says, though, his tone does not sound right. It is mischievous somehow, mixed with a good pour of sarcasm and deceit. But perhaps it is just your imagination—you do tend to overthink your observation as well.

“Okay… I'll wait.” You reply and sit nicely on the bed as you watch him. Nikolai then turns to you, with a white napkin in his hand.

Oh.

You certainly remember that very napkin. The one that he used to force you to inhale chemicals that knocked you out. Your face pales as you scoot back on the bed.

“Niko— Mmh!”

Without even having a second to react, Nikolai already presses the napkin onto your nose and mouth. One of his knees is on the bed, putting weight as he pushes you to lie down on the mattress. You are frantic but you feel his hand pressing down hard on your neck, blocking your airway to force you to breathe through the inhalation drug.

“Shh, shh, be nice, dolly. Be nice.”

Through your gradually blurry vision, you see Nikolai hovering over you and you are beneath him. Your hands are gripping his arms, nails clawing on his tattoos. Your body arches as you find it harder to breathe. You try to shake your head, but it is futile when Nikolai presses harder, receiving a painful whine out of your throat.

You find your body getting weaker and limp. Your legs jerk upwards and tremble between his thighs. Nikolai lowers his hand that is on your throat to your chest, brushing lightly against your mounds before it slips into the bomber jacket. He takes out something from inside it—from somewhere, as you remember that there is no hidden pocket inside the jacket.

But there it is—a syringe in his hand.

Where did he get that?

“It won't hurt, little doll. I'm an expert.”

You wince when you feel a sharp prick on your neck and your consciousness is slowly fading. Your body feels lighter as your mind is disconnected from reality. With your little last effort, your hands grip Nikolai's body before you surrender yourself to inhale the drug, in addition to another dose being injected in you.

Your eyes are just too heavy to even keep them open. Your breathing is slow. You see him getting off your body and you try to squirm to get up, but you are overcome with intense sleepiness and dizziness. In the midst of cloudy vision, you feel a pair of hands gently fix your dress, especially on your upper thighs.

The last thing you see is Nikolai pulling a long rope out of his overcoat.

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