#fic: tongue tied
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problems downstairs | jjk (m.)
pairing: jungkook x f!reader
rating: 18+ (minors dni)
genre/warnings: established relationship, fluff, smut; oral sex (m. receiving), dirty talk, light fondling, cursing obvi, i think that's it? oh and UNEDITED AS FUCK
word count: 2.1k
note: i need to learn how to write smut again, it's been too long and i am so friggin' rusty i apologize for this fr 😳 anyway. defiling the tongue tied bitches !!
‘tongue tied’ masterpost ; taglist
— as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡
When Jungkook slips under your shirt to innocently rub circles into your bare skin, he realizes his fatal mistake.
You instantly guide his hand to your chest and use it to fondle one of your breasts, like you’ve been waiting for it this whole time. His brain almost short circuits at the feeling of your tit in his palm, braless, soft and supple and he can’t help but give it another squeeze.
You moan against his mouth and though the sound is muffled, it sends blood rushing straight to his dick – the one that’s growing harder with every swivel of your hips on top of him, with every vibration that your whimpers cause against his lips, and with every second passing by that he has his fingers on your bare chest.
“Wait!” Jungkook abruptly pulls away and grips your hips to stop you from grinding against him. “I just remembered something! Hobi asked me to, um, pick him up from the airport tomorrow.”
You stare at him, frustration immediately creeping up your spine. “And?”
“So you know...” He shrugs sheepishly, hands resuming their soothing rubbing on your body – through your shirt this time – as if he can sense your mood starting to turn sour. “I have to get up early.”
You look at him blankly, your lips pursed into a hard line like the deadpan emoji. “You’re so full of shit.”
“W–what?”
“Hobi told me he’s extending his trip for another two days.”
He freezes underneath you and visibly pales. His eyes widen comically like Bambi caught in headlights, lips parting and closing as he thinks of what to say after you just called him out on his lie. You’d be lying if you said this wasn’t kinda cute – you think nearly everything he does is cute, but it’s also highly annoying when you’re trying to be upset with him.
“Why would Hobi tell you–”
“Why does that matter?” you huff as you climb off him, plopping onto the cushions and frowning. “Okay, I gotta ask. Do you not want me or something?”
“What? I– Why would you say that?”
It’s not like you’re forcing him to want to sleep with you; it’s only been a few weeks after all. Maybe he’s the kind of person that doesn’t take sex lightly.
No, that can’t be it. You’ve heard his one-off conquests through the walls before.
But even prior to your official first date, whenever you used to make out as a couple of neighbors who enjoyed each other’s company, he never made you feel like you weren’t wanted. Well, physically anyway.
Lately, you’ve been confused as hell by his behavior. He’d still be eager to make out with you, but the second that you hint at wanting to take it a step further, he’d come up with a dumbass excuse to get out of it. You aren’t exactly desperate for some action, but you also kinda are. It’s been a while and Jungkook has been making you very frustrated, sexually and otherwise.
Just like tonight, he was quick to shut it down when things became heated though you were certain you didn’t imagine feeling his hard-on. The boner is right there. His sweatpants aren’t doing a great job at hiding anything.
“Every time it looks like we’re about to actually do something, you find a way to dip.” Crossing your arms over your chest, you silently grimace in embarrassment. “If you don’t want to have sex with me, you can just say it.”
He jumps immediately, his brows furrowing at your words. “No, no! That’s definitely not it. I– Fuck. Fuck… I can’t tell you this.”
You huff out a breath, because this is not reassuring at all. When you make a move to stand up, he pulls you back down by your wrist with a heavy sigh.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you upset. I want you, of course I want you. I’m sorry if I haven’t made it clear enough,” Jungkook says earnestly, tugging you closer and maneuvering until your legs are thrown over his lap.
Your embarrassment dissipates by a fraction. “Then why does it feel like you keep pushing me away?” you ask. The conversation is happening anyway. You might as well get to the bottom of it.
But then a thought pops into your mind and you have to gasp.
Is it…? Could it be?
No.
But maybe…?
“Do you have… problems?”
Jungkook frowns, looking you over. “What problems?”
“You know…” You glance at his crotch before your eyes flit up to his face. “Problems… downstairs. The kind that needs, uh, medical assistance.”
He tilts his head, the furrow between his brows deepening. You watch the cogs in his mind turn until they click into place. The flabbergasted look on his face when he realizes what you’re talking about prompts an unintentional cackle from you. It almost makes you forget the whole conversation at hand.
“Why the fuck would you think that?” Jungkook screeches and shudders in embarrassment, darling Bambi eyes blown out of proportion again. “I do not have any issue in that department!”
It takes a minute for you to stop laughing, especially since his face has turned so red, you could probably see steam rising from the top of his head.
I certainly wouldn’t know that, you think but don’t say it out loud. Instead, you ask him, “Then why?”
He looks at you and fumbles with his fingers, then scratches his neck, clears his throat a few times and so on, all things he does when he’s nervous.
“If we have sex,” Jungkook starts slowly, shying his face away to preserve what little dignity he has left, “I like you so much I feel like I’m gonna bust a nut ten seconds in and you’ll think I’m a dweeb.”
It’s silent for a moment. He thinks you might’ve not heard him because there’s no way you would stay quiet after that confession. When he slowly turns around and your eyes meet, you start laughing again. Way to humble him.
“Jungkook.” You clutch his arm as you fall forward to rest on his shoulder, your body shaking with giggles as tears fill your eyes. Oh good, it’s so funny that you’re actually crying now.
“I knew this was gonna happen,” Jungkook mutters to himself but you catch it. You don’t mean to laugh at him, not really, but he’s just so goddamn cute sitting there with his pouty lips and reddened cheeks, admitting that the reason he’s been cockblocking you is because he’s too excited. This is definitely a first for you.
“Jungkook,” you say again with a smile once you’ve regained your breath, “You keep forgetting that I like you too. We’re literally dating! I don’t care if you don’t last long the first time.”
He glances at you. “Really?”
“Yes, dweebus,” you say with a teasing smile. “As long as you don’t make it a habit. I mean… we could probably get that first load out of the way right now.”
“What?”
“Well…” You gesture to the bulge in his sweats. “He looks like he wants some attention.”
Jungkook shakes his head a little, like a cartoon bunny, as if to reorient himself. God, he’s acting like this is the first time he’s getting a blowjob. “Now? Right here? On the couch?”
You bite your lip, placing a hand on his thigh. “Why not?”
Despite the embarrassment and the way he feels like a teenage boy again, his dick grows even harder at the look on your face. With your bottom lip between your teeth and your eyes gazing into his, he’s surprised that he hasn’t busted a nut yet.
“Fuck, okay,” Jungkook says. You peck his lips, getting up from the couch only to kneel down on his carpet, positioning yourself between his legs while you wait for his next move.
He lets out a nervous breath as he shimmies his sweatpants and boxers down to free his length and fuck, his cock is a glorious sight, and it definitely isn’t because you haven’t seen one in a while.
You take him in your hand, pumping slowly as he groans and throws his head back. “If I cum in two seconds, you’ve been warned,” he tells you.
You chuckle with a roll of your eyes. “Okay.”
You lick a fat stripe up the entire length of him and when you reach his tip, you give it a little kiss. “You have such a pretty cock, bun,” you purr, looking up at him through your lashes.
“Fucking hell…” Jungkook sighs breathlessly when you start taking him into your mouth, your lips wrapping around his tip and your tongue swiping across it to lap up his precum. There’s a faint sweetness to it that you didn’t expect, it tastes almost artificial – probably it’s because of how much sugar he consumes on a daily basis – and it makes you moan around him, the sound sending light vibrations through his dick and prompting more groans from the man.
As you continue to bob up and down his cock, taking as much of him as you can, your hand pumps the part that can’t fit in your mouth. You welcome the feeling of him stretching your lips and the pleasant taste of him on your tongue.
“You’re so fucking good…” His hand falls to your head and tangles in your hair, helping you glide over his length more smoothly but mostly he does it to keep from thrusting into your throat.
Your name escapes his mouth in a beautiful moan – deep and needy. You can feel yourself getting soaked already just by listening to bim. It’s exciting to say the least.
“Ah, ah, fuck–” Jungkook’s eyes almost roll to the back of his head when you hollow out your cheeks and begin to suck him faster. “I’ll cum if you keep going like that.”
Isn’t that the goal here? Silly bun.
His fingers tug on your scalp in a warning when you don’t seem to be stopping any time soon, warm mouth still moving in a relentless pace that turns his brain to mush. You only raise your hand to give him a thumbs up to encourage his orgasm.
Soon enough, he’s chanting your name like a broken mantra, face twisted in pleasure as he shoots his hot cum down your throat in thick ropes. It’s saltier now but still sweet, and still very much him – you could get used to this.
You continue your ministrations even after he’s finished blowing his load – only pulling away momentarily to swallow and grin at him but still pumping him in your fist, before diving back in to take his tip into your mouth again – and his hand has loosened its grip on your hair, heavy breaths slowly become more even and turn into soft whines from the sensitivity.
Before you pull away, you press one last kiss to the side of his dick. “Come here,” Jungkook beckons and you comply, an innocent smile on your lips as if you hadn’t just made him see stars with the force of his orgasm.
“Well, that was longer than I expected,” you chuckle.
“You’re a little minx, you know that?”
Your eyes crinkle and your tongue sticks out to tease him, prompting him to lean forward with a kiss to wipe that smug look off your face. When his tongue dips inside your mouth, he can taste himself faintly. Oddly enough, it makes his cock stir to life again. His arm around you trails down to your ass, where he gives you a squeeze, and slips under the waistband of your shorts to toy with your panties.
He’s a lot more brazen now, you note.
“Wanna return the favor,” Jungkook says, eyeing you with his darkened orbs. He takes his bottom lip between his teeth and he looks so handsome, so much more relaxed and confident than before that you have to clench your thighs together to relieve some pressure.
You wouldn’t think that this is the same Jungkook who was tongue tied and twisted not even half an hour ago.
You brush your lips against his, but not yet kissing him again. “I wouldn’t be opposed to that.”
Something switches in him.
Jungkook gives your ass a little pinch and stands, picking you up and throwing you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, forcing a yelp out of you as you hold onto his back for support. When you see the muscles in his bare ass flexing with every step, you can’t help but reach down and give his cheeks a little squeeze, giggling as you do.
Oh, you have a feeling you’re in for a long night.
all rights reserved © jeonqkooks. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted 20.11.2022]
#jungkook x reader#jungkook fluff#jungkook smut#jungkook fic#jungkook scenarios#jungkook imagines#bts x reader#bts fluff#bts smut#bts fic#bts scenarios#bts imagines#btshoneyhive#btswritingcafe#bangtanbathhouse#btscarnivalnet#btsdreamcourt#52hertz#clubzerooclock#fic: tongue tied
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Tongue Tied
1.2k words /// Rated G /// Louis/Harry
Louis’ new bestie placed a hand on his shoulder; he turned with a sway and looked into his blue eyes. ”What do you wish?”
The world spun for a moment, and Louis shrugged. It was easy. The only thing he wanted. “I wish that I could tell Harry that I love him, instead of getting all tongue tied and chickening out.”
The Irishman winked. “You never know, your wish may just come true.”
“From your lips to God’s ears, mate.” He gave the man a hug. “I gotta go before my Uber leaves me.”
He stumbled to the door, and that was the last thing he remembered from the night.
Written for the 2023 @wordplayfics challenge!
#my fics#tongue tied#my moodboards#larry stylinson#tracking home#trackinghappily#1d-library#ficsfor4am#hlficlibrary#one direction fanfiction#one direction fics#wordplay#larry fics
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👄🍯🛏️
for steddie please 😊
This is such a good one, I got a little out of control. My 500 word ficlet took on a mind of its own and became almost 3k of fluff. I'm calling this one Oh Good God, I'm Tongue Tied. You can read it on AO3 here! Thanks for the request @mxnson13 <3
From the moment they all realized they were heading in different directions for college, their after graduation plan was put into motion.
As a young kid just happy to be accepted by any school at all, Steve didn’t hold much hope of their plan actually coming to fruition. It was hard to grab onto anything for too long at that age. Yet, the longer Steve was away from his friends, the more he understood the need for something so concrete to look forward to.
Unlike Steve’s initial assumption, making lasting friendships that took his mind away from missing Eddie, Robin, and Nancy all at once was not an easy task. By the time Christmas vacation rolled around, Steve was desperate to be back amongst the people who made him feel the safest, the ones he got to call his own.
The long hug they all shared made Steve think he wasn’t the only one missing out on the easy camaraderie.
Despite the years passing, being away from his found family never got any easier. No matter how successful Steve was or how amazing he actually found school and the classes for his major, the pull of the people he loved was always greater, always more.
Finally, the year they’d all been waiting for was upon them. Steve and Robin worked out the perfect way to make it to each other’s graduations before heading out of state to catch Nancy and Eddie’s. After that, they were set to board a plane to California for a week of sun, sand, and glorious freedom. Not even the manuscript he just sold sitting heavily in his backpack could excite Steve more than the thought of their years’ worth of planning finally coming to fruition.
Well, that wasn’t entirely true.
See, Steve harbored a very big, very secret crush on his best friend. Eddie Munson was the embodiment of all things wild and free. He wore what he wanted, he said whatever came to mind, and he lived his life with such an ease that at first, Steve thought the tingly feeling in his stomach was jealousy. It took many months and a few embarrassing dreams for the truth to finally click.
Once it did, however, Steve had no idea what to do with himself. There were many times throughout their friendship that Steve thought Eddie might have been feeling the same way. When Steve came out as bisexual, Eddie’s eyes lit up so brightly, the shine was distracting. To this very day, Steve still couldn’t decide if his admittance or the potential that came from it pleased Eddie the most.
None of his friend’s actions ever gave Eddie away, either. Despite their closeness (and the hot and heavy chemistry that absolutely existed between them), Steve had no real idea of where their relationship stood.
To drive that point home a little further, Steve didn’t know what Eddie was doing next with his life, either.
One of the main reasons that Steve never stepped a toe over the friend boundary was the distance between them. Steve wasn’t all that good at making relationships work when the person was sitting right next to him. He shuddered to think what long distance would be like. Steve understood his heart to know he wanted all of Eddie – if the day ever came that his friend wanted more, Steve couldn’t settle for anything less.
So, friendship was where they stayed. Though, Steve was kidding himself if he thought for a second that he wouldn’t immediately jump at the opportunity for more.
Which, in the back of his mind, Steve hoped this trip would be. Hence… the anticipation.
Sitting next to Eddie on the flight, Steve was buzzing with energy. He had so many things he wanted to tell the man next to him, so many things he needed to admit. The overflow of it all came forth in the shake of his leg and the rhythmic clench and release of his fingers on the armrests.
“Are you a nervous flyer?” Eddie asked, lightly placing his hand on Steve’s forearm. The softest squeeze followed those caring words.
Steve forced himself to cease his movement, though the effort was great. Sucking in a large breath, he shook his head. “No, I fly all the time. I’m just – excited. This trip is all I’ve been thinking about for four years. I can’t believe we’re finally going on it.”
A knowing smile pulled at Eddie’s lips and the hand on Steve’s arm squeezed again. “I know what you mean. The end of this semester couldn’t get here fast enough.”
There was something about the way that Eddie didn’t move his arm or stop his staring that made Steve’s anxiety drop down to the floor. The humming buzz of ‘what if’ became manageable in the face of Eddie’s easy proclamation. Though nothing was concrete, Steve felt a stirring in his gut that told him everything was going to be alright.
Steve wasn’t really sure what that actually meant but he’d learned to trust his instincts. They did save him a time or two, after all.
Somewhere over the middle of the central US, Steve fell asleep. The weeks of cramming for finals and fine tuning every last detail of his book deal had Steve beyond exhausted. Up until that moment, however, he hadn’t felt safe to really let go. Not truly. His sleep suffered the same way it always did. And like always, Eddie was a balm of comfort that never ceased to help curb the nightmares and chase his dreams away.
Eddie must’ve been pretty exhausted, too, because his head was leaned against Steve’s when the plane touched down. Blinking his eyes open, Steve came to as gently and quietly as possible – this sort of thing had never happened before. Steve was usually pulling himself away with an embarrassed smile when Eddie gently shook him awake. Experiencing Eddie’s vulnerability was new and exciting. Maybe a little hope inducing, too.
Eventually, those big brown eyes opened and his best friend returned to reality. While he did stiffen slightly, Eddie thankfully made no move to forcibly yank himself away from their intimate embrace. In fact, they stayed like that, curled up together between their two plane seats, until people got up to deboard.
The next few hours were a whirlwind of getting checked into their hotel room and handing their bags over to a concierge that would hold them until they were ready to head up for the night. The San Diego beach was calling their names, so no one wasted any time changing or fretting or trying to get settled in. Robin already had a spot in mind and was leading them out the door the moment she could.
True to form, Robin opened the door to the closest gay bar. Unlike those near Purdue where Steve went to school, this place was hopping, practically filled to the brim with girls and boys and all the people in between. Steve, despite being out of the closet for many years, felt out of place, like maybe he wasn’t gay enough to exist in such a mecca.
Eddie, however, looked like a kid in a candy store. His usual excitement bubbled over in such a way that made it impossible for Steve to keep worrying. The smile on Eddie’s face was stunning and Steve wanted to be a part of the reason it lingered on his lips for the rest of the night.
Between the thrumming of the music, all the bodies, and the bigness of the place, getting a drink took longer than they all expected. Steve was grateful to finally feel the shot of tequila go down his throat. He made a deal with himself when they walked in – a little liquid courage was necessary to step so far out of his comfort zone.
Before Steve could talk himself out of it, he turned to Eddie with a hopeful smile on his face. “Do you want to dance?”
Without hesitation, Eddie nodded eagerly. “Hell yeah, I do. Show me what you’ve got, big boy.”
Snorting, because that nickname never got old, Steve grabbed Eddie’s hand. He carefully laced their fingers and used their tethered grip to tug Eddie out onto the dancefloor.
The music’s beat was a fast one that thumped delightfully against Steve’s chest. He closed his eyes for a second to catch the flow of it around him. Then, Steve started to move. His hands eagerly took ahold of Eddie’s hips to pull him closer.
“I’m not familiar with fancy dancing, that one-two-three-four, shit,” Steve said as Eddie settled himself against Steve’s chest, “but I know how to follow the beat.” To prove his point, Steve swiveled his hips in perfect time to the music swallowing them up.
Though Eddie didn’t say anything out loud, the way he pressed back into Steve’s touch and let him lead their movements seemed like answer enough. Song after song, their bodies danced in sync, perfectly twisting and grinding and gyrating together. It felt like they’d been following the other’s step for years, not a handful of sweaty minutes.
But, maybe Steve’s first thought was really true. Steve spent the entire summer following Vecna’s defeat trying to fend off his feelings for Eddie. As they grew closer, their lives started to line up without either of them even noticing. And though they didn’t come together that summer or the one after that or the next three, Steve felt their bond deepening all the same.
He chalked it up to wishful thinking.
This new development, however, had him hoping otherwise.
The night went by so fast that Steve didn’t realize how long they’d been dancing together until the lights came up for last call. Steve had to stop himself from groaning when the spell broke and Eddie finally dragged his body away. The small bit of space between them suddenly felt like millions of miles not a few inches.
“You were right,” Eddie said, wiping his brow.
Steve waited until they were out of the mass of people before replying. “About what?” His mind was all over the place, he couldn’t recall a single thing that happened earlier. The cognizant part of Steve was still out on the dancefloor, pulling Eddie close.
“Following the beat. I don’t think we missed it once tonight.”
For some reason, Steve’s neck flushed red. The pit of want in his belly sparked to life, made even hotter by the knowing look that Eddie had in his eye. Instead of waiting for Steve to flounder around and come up with something to say, Eddie grabbed his hand and laced their fingers together. He then dragged Steve out the front door to wait by the corner for Robin and Nancy.
There was a slight chill on the air that brushed across Steve’s skin. A shiver ran up his spine that made him wrap both arms around his middle. He tried to hug himself warm but the mixture of sweat and thin clothes did nothing to block out the cold.
Seeing Steve’s problem, Eddie narrowed down the space between them so they were once again sharing body heat. One of Eddie’s hands was still tethered to Steve’s but the other was free to reach up and wrap around broad shoulders. With the slightest pull, they were chest to chest, breathing the very same air.
And that’s how they stayed until Robin and Nancy came bumbling around the corner, drunk off their asses and attached at the lips. Despite knowing they reached Steve and Eddie, the girls didn’t quit until the need to suck in oxygen became absolutely necessary. Only then did they acknowledge their friends’ presence. Though, even that was brief.
Knowing the PDA was only going to get worse the closer they got to their hotel, Steve and Eddie stayed back a few paces, giving their friends a little privacy. Though it wasn’t the smartest thing to be so open about their affection for each other, Steve and Robin picked this neighborhood in San Diego because of its gay presence. They wouldn’t be the only ones waving that particular flag throughout the week.
They made it back to the hotel a little after 3AM. The lobby was all but deserted – even the hotel’s bar was quiet. After all the loud music, Steve found the absence of noise to be a little underwhelming. The lingering tiredness he tried to nap away on the plane came roaring back without the abundance of stimulus.
By the time Steve and Eddie got up to their room, both were close to passing out on their feet. Though, neither was sleepy enough to miss the very big, very singular bed in the middle of the room. It was huge and looked delightfully soft, but out of place all the same. Instead of the two queens that Robin promised she booked for them, one king took its place, taunting them.
They shared a long look, both trying to figure out what was going on and the problem’s best solution. Eddie broke the silence first.
“We can share. It’s not like we’ve never slept in the same bed before, Stevie.” His lips were quirked in a drunken yet hopeful smile. “We used to cram ourselves into the Wheeler’s basement. This’ll be a piece of cake.”
Unable to think clearly, Steve merely nodded his head. He wasn’t in any position to fight or go down to the lobby to demand a different room. Between the alcohol they drank and the late hour, Steve was genuinely surprised he was still standing. The ability to think complex thoughts no longer existed.
Instead of working to remember why he didn’t want to share a bed in the first place, Steve kicked off his shoes, pulled down his jeans, and crawled into bed. He barely recalled Eddie getting under the covers with him before the pull of sleep dragged him down and under.
Steve absolutely recalled the reason he should’ve been wary the next morning when he woke up with his arm thrown over Eddie’s hip. Like magnets, their bodies found each other throughout the night so that Steve’s chest was pressed up against Eddie’s back. After so many years of distance and space, none remained between them. Absolutely none.
Registering that other parts of him were also aware of Eddie’s presence, Steve started to pull himself away. A strong hand grabbing his forearm stopped him.
“Don’t go. I’m comfy, just like this.” Eddie’s voice was sleep clogged and deep, both sexy and absolutely adorable.
Rolling his eyes at that thought, Steve went to pull away again.
With a huff, Eddie turned in Steve’s arms so they were face to face. “Didn’t you hear me. Don’t go.” Eddie reached his left hand up, cupping Steve’s cheek. “Stop fighting this, Steve. It’s okay.”
Despite being shocked, Steve leaned into the touch of Eddie’s hand. “I’m scared.”
“You don’t have to be. I’ve been waiting years for you to finally come to your senses.”
Eddie didn’t give Steve any more time to think about what that meant or how that affected things between them. He leaned forward and placed his lips upon Steve’s, kissing him soundly. Morning breath be damned.
There was no argument that would ever beat the feeling of finally coming home.
Not even Steve and his stubbornness could conjure one up.
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#steddie#stranger things#steve harrington#eddie munson#steve harrington x eddie munson#steve harrington/eddie munson#ficlets#steddie fics#steddie fanfic#bobbie writes#oh good god i'm tongue tied#thanks for the request friend!
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꒦꒷ 𝑡𝑜𝑛𝑔𝑢𝑒-𝑡𝑖𝑒𝑑 ﹒₊‧
₊˚a story in which a person works up the courage to confess to their crush.
warnings — bsd selfship (osaluma) (livchu), minor bsd spoilers, angst, fluff, shojo!au, romance, mentions of traumatic backstories, underage dr.g use (marijuana)
MEET THE CAST | AESTHETICS | PLAYLIST
notes from dazai’s star: yk i had to make an osaluma series. i have one on my selfship account @sxaras where it revolves more around the canon plot (but doesn’t have the canon events of dazai & chuuya: fifteen) and teen romance where this will be more fluffy and will (hopefully) give shojo vibes <3 also art / mood/shipboards / etc. is encouraged and welcomed !
1. think i’m falling in love with all these big signs 2. are you lost again? 3. i think i’m lost again
MORE TBA !
#🗝️—luma#💌—tongue-tied!#🌹—osaluma#bsd#bungou stray dogs#bsd dazai#bsd selfship#chuuya bsd#dazai bsd#bungou stray dogs selfship#bungo stray dogs selfship#chuuya bungou stray dogs#dazai bungou stray dogs#bsd fic
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A concept: griddlehark fic where harrow and gideon hook up and harrow is conflicted about it because she so desperately wants gideon but ‘I’m just another conquest to her, just another number to a add to her tally’ bc she’s head over heels for gideon, obvs but she also is blinded by her feelings and thinks that gideon is a mega babe who clearly gets tons of action and how it’s fine, it’s not what harrow wants but she’ll take why she can get, it’s fine
cut to cam and pal politely listening to harrow lament while side eyeing each other because they both know that gideon is a mega dweeb nerd who makes inappropriate puns all the time and actually has zero game
#if this fic already exists please drop me the link I would like to read it#cam and pal have both witnessed Gideon forget her own name when confronted with a pretty woman#gideon is either tongue tied and bumbling or just oblivious and cracking jokes bc she didn’t realize she was being flirted with#cam and pal are long suffering friends with the two most#dumbass idiots in the galaxy#inspired by the song she’s pretty by Beth McCarthy#‘fine cool she’s pretty I know I’m just a number but it’s fine
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hello i have been in the hell of writing a fanfiction while simultaniously trying out a new adhd meds and getting schoolwork done so i dont fail
um before i leave again for idk how long have a snippet of my fic WOAHHH
that moment when nerris tries to have one (1) conversation with her friend, but nikki is a main character so she has to leave to do main character things
#nerriston#fanfiction snippet#sneakpeak of my super cool fic 'tongue tied'#part 3#i think#ao3 author things#ao3 author#camp camp#cc harrison#cc nerris#cc preston#nerrison#harriston#presner#cc max#cc nikki#cc neil#adding moments where theyre just kids#or rather where the younger campers are#nerris/harrison/preston are 14 in this#well nerris is 13 (they turn 14 in the fic soon though)
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tongue-tied by liberty_barnes/@liberty-barnes (T, 3333 words)
“For the record, I think this is a terrible idea.”
Zayn turns towards him.
“And why is that, Leeyum?”
“We have no filter and you’re putting us under pressure, live.”
[or, the one where OT9 participate in a game of Family Feud, and they really should have listened to Liam when he said this was a bad idea]
Read on AO3
also everyone look at the word count it's so beautiful
#libby writes#larry fics#larry stylinson#louis tomlinson x harry styles#louis tomlinson#harry styles#larry#my-larry-fics#tongue-tied
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i was just tongue-tied
by iwtwyashay
“Jeff? What’s Tuesday’s date?”
“The 14th. It’s Valentine’s day. Why?”
“Oh my God.”
or: amongst the grammys and the brits, harry forgets valentine's day is coming up. louis does not.
Words: 6519, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English
Fandoms: One Direction (Band)
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Categories: M/M
Characters: Harry Styles, Louis Tomlinson
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Additional Tags: Fluff, literally just fluff, Valentine's Day, Valentine's Day Fluff, Canon Compliant, a little bit, Domestic Fluff
via AO3 works tagged 'Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson' https://ift.tt/PNfRhvj
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For the prompt request
11 and 14 for Tongue Tied couple please ❤️
beddy bye | jjk
pairing: jungkook x reader (a tongue tied drabble)
prompts: things you said when you were drunk + things you said after you kissed me
rating: PG-13
genre/warnings: neighbors au, fluff, mentions of alcohol consumption
word count: 0.9k
note: i feel like we all need something lighthearted after today’s news. have you missed the tongue tied idiots? i know i have. thank you for sending this in, anon! (i hope you’re still here somewhere 😭) anyway i hope you don’t mind that i incorporated both prompts into this piece that takes place right after the first drabble! i hope you like it <3
— as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡
series masterpost | main masterlist
It was 2:30 in the morning, and you were in the middle of your favorite Brooklyn 99 episode when your doorbell rang. You were creeped out at first, unsure of who could be at your apartment in the middle of the night because it was definitely not anyone you knew.
Blame Tangled for making you arm yourself with a frying pan as you approached the door, fearing that it was a burglar though if that was the case, they probably wouldn’t have rang the bell, and they definitely wouldn’t have babbled drunkenly and loudly on the other side of the threshold.
You should’ve pretended that you weren’t home, because now you’re stuck with a plastered Jungkook, making googly eyes at you while you bid goodnight to the man who brought him here—Namjoon as he introduced himself, or was it Namjin? You couldn’t really hear him well over the sound of your neighbor slurring his words.
Why is Jungkook sitting on your couch right now, one might ask, when his own place is literally two seconds away? Well, that's a good question.
Apparently the dumbass lost his keys at the club they were at, and his designated driver didn’t know about it until they got here. This was supposed to be your self-care night, and it was for the better part of it. But now the universe has dumped upon you a manchild to babysit.
“You’re so stupid,” you say as you give him a glass of water, which he refuses to take until you hold the glass to his lips to make him drink. You bring him a blanket and pillow to help him get comfortable on the couch too.
After he has gulped down the liquid, Jungkook frowns at you and tries to pull you closer by the hem of your shirt. “I wanted to kiss you,” he mutters grumpily.
“What?”
“I wanted to kiss you!” he repeats, louder this time that you have to shush and scold him. It's late and the walls aren’t exactly thick. The last thing you need is for these middle aged housewives to file a noise complaint.
Ah yes, the kiss.
The kiss in your building’s shabby elevator.
That was a week ago, and he was the one who challenged you. It was nice while it lasted; you liked the feeling of his pillowy lips on yours but that was all it was—one kiss. He said he couldn’t stop thinking about it, so you planted one on him to help him get over it.
No big deal, right?
“I know, Jungkook. You told me that.” In his current state, it doesn’t take much for you to swat his hand away from your shirt so you can drape the blanket over his body. “We kissed, remember?”
“N–no,” he hiccups, shaking his head, “after that. I still wanted to kiss you a-after that.”
You’re not really sure how to respond, given that he’s completely hammered. Though they do say drunk words are sober thoughts, right? Either way, you ignore him, choosing to focus on tucking him in as best as you can with all his wiggling and flailing.
“Gimme a kiss,” he demands like a petulant child, red-rimmed eyes nearly glaring at you when you laugh at him. You roll your eyes but you relent, leaning in to peck his cheek sweetly but he complains again. “A real kiss! Here!” He puckers his lips and taps them with his fingers, eyebrows knitted together tightly.
You’ve seen him whine and pout before, whenever he loses video games that make zero sense to you. It’s an adorable sight to be honest.
That, and the way your couch is a little too small for his long legs.
“Jungkook,” you sigh, stroking his hair in hopes that it’ll calm him down. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, bud.”
“Yes I d–do!”
“You won’t want to in the morning.”
“I will!”
It’s your first encounter with one Drunk Jeon Jungkook, but it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that this persona of his is stubborn and needy as hell. He’s still frowning despite the way his eyes keep drooping. Maybe if you wait it out just a little longer, he’ll tire himself out and let you go back to bed.
The grip that he still has on your shirt begs to differ though.
“Fine,” you surrender, “if you still want to in the morning, I will.”
His frown deepens as he narrows his eyes at you. “Promise?”
“I promise,” you nod, smiling. When you raise your pinky in a further attempt to appease him, he releases your shirt and clumsily hooks his finger around yours. Jungkook giggles, seemingly fascinated by the way your fingers wrap around each other.
“Okay, bud.” When you pull your hand away, you watch him pout at the loss of contact before his attention averts elsewhere. He yawns and wiggles his own socked feet sticking out from underneath the blanket and dangling over the couch’s armrest. “It's time to go to sleep.”
“Beddy bye?”
“Yeah,” you laugh lightly, “beddy byes for the both of us.”
A part of you wants him to remember this in the morning. It’d be fun to see Jungkook redden in embarrassment as he recalls this conversation, knowing full well that his sober self is too stubborn to freely admit anything like this to you. Teasing him is fun, and watching him squirm under your mischievous scrutiny is even more amusing.
But then, perhaps another part of you wants him to remember to see if he’d actually ask you to keep your promise. That first kiss was nice, and you most certainly wouldn’t mind if you had the chance to do it again.
— all rights reserved © jeonqkooks. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means.
— taglist: @moonchild1 @takochelle @bids97 @nadzzzblog @golden-thv @misohime @parkethereal @taestrwbrry @yoongimentita7 @jensbttrfly @angelarin @jjkrinvgs @koobsessed
#jungkook#jungkook x reader#jungkook fluff#jungkook angst#jungkook smut#bts fic#bts x reader#bts fluff#bts angst#bts smut#bts scenarios#btsgoldnet#ficscafe#btscarnivalnet#52hertz#clubzerooclock#bangtaninn#btswritingcafe#btshoneyhive#fic: tongue tied
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ballet au lol 🩰
YES THANK YOU ANON WOW
Derek is a dancer coming back from rehabbing a horrible injury (lower back?? fucked up his knee??) and has a chip on his shoulder because a) he totally has stage fright! b) has a reputation for being surly and overly intense. Pre-injury he was a rising star in the ballet company and had a lot more confidence but now he is a man humbled, quiet, relieved not to be in charge, but he also feels like he has a ton to prove! Especially since his mom and his older sister are famous dancers.
The ballet troupe is smallish and Stiles is in charge of logistics and MARKETING! Because he is a noted uncoordinated klutz. He's all about strategy and reviewing data and making things happen, and he is the absolutely bane of Derek's existence. He wants Derek in photoshoots, he sometimes coordinates with the artistic director (Lydia) on people's roles, Derek finds the way he talks about engaging customers manipulative, and tbh Stiles can be abrasive and annoying! So smart but so mean!
Derek has a recognizable everything face so once he has returned Stiles wants him to do an ad photoshoot so they can slap his picture on the side of a bus and this just makes Derek feels even more pressure. Resents Stiles for this and also because it's compromising Derek's anonymity. His only respite is teaching children's ballet classes, which is something he started doing while rehabbing his injury and also because the pay to be a ballet dancer isn't great at this small troupe!
Derek thinks once his career is over he would like to teach
But sometimes, when Derek is teaching these first graders, who do not care if he is weird and quiet, he notices Stiles watching. He thinks at first Stiles is going to want to use this for marketing but Stiles never says anything about it, just stays to watch Derek and the kids.
Then at some sort of holiday dance event Derek runs into his horrible ex, Kate Argent, who is a principal at a much larger and more prestigious company, and panics...only for Stiles to appear, wrap an arm around Derek like they're dating, and say "hey babe, who's this?"
#answered#ask meme#i do not know how ballet companies or marketing works. sorry to everyone who is like 'you are so wrong' sorry omg#teen wolf#sterek#LOOK i just think in this instance fake dating would be perfect#derek is so tongue tied and so grateful that he can't help himself melting into the arm hold and is like 'she was just leaving'#even though stiles surely knows about derek and kate's infamous and very public break up#it was a PR nightmare and stiles was an assistant at the time#so he can only be snubbing kate. and kate probably knows this. and derek does not know why stiles is rescuing him#and that night he goes home and he can't stop thinking about it. and that's when stiles goes from annoying to intriguing#meanwhile stiles had a hate attraction thing for derek since day 1 and then HORRIBLY he saw derek teaching first graders and CAUGHT FEELING#this is like a 40k fic i do not have time to write i already have 2 teen wolf wips help#also shout out to the les mis ballet/opera au that i think about daily#edit scott is also a rising ballet star and he and derek hate each other#the argents do run their own company maybe? the prestigious one? huge scandal when allison leaves it to join derek's troupe#the artistic director is thinking about making their nutcracker balanchine and derek supports this bc#he likes balanchine and he finds it classic and traditional#and stiles is like you're a fucking idiot. it's tired. it's boring. we need to do what PNWB did#we aren't a carbon copy of new york city ballet.#derek doesn't speak to him for weeks
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Morgan's Favorite
1719 words. Non-Powered AU. Tony meeting Morgan's favorite teacher 🤭💕 Read it on AO3!
"Shit, shit, shit," Tony mutters under his breath, slamming the car door louder than he intended. A woman with a stroller actually stops to give him a dirty look. Tony throws her an apologetic smile and hurries up the steps to Morgan’s preschool. It’s hardly the first time he’s late, but this time, on top of the meeting that didn’t seem to want to end, he’d been stuck at a red light for fifteen fucking minutes. He curses again. He might have to consider getting a metro card. Or a fucking bicycle. New York traffic is getting unbearable.
He’s now almost forty minutes past the time he usually picks up Morgan. Whoever waited behind deserves a huge fruit basket for their troubles. Wincing, he rings the bell, nervous and jittery all over. He’d called ahead of course, several times actually, but nobody had answered the phone. He’s imagined all sorts of irrational things while stuck in the car, even as he knew that Morgan was perfectly safe in Natasha’s hands. It’s why he chose this place, after all.
Still, he’d feel a lot better if he could see that Morgan was alright for himself.
Whoever is working today, is taking their sweet time answering the door. Tony’s just reaching for the bell again when the door swings open and he comes face to face with—
Well, definitely not Natasha, for one. Or anyone he knows.
It’s a man.
And what a man. Tall, broad. Blonde. And that smile. Wow. Tony’s mouth works around nothing for a while. Finally, he manages to get out, "Hi, I’m Tony. Morgan’s dad."
The guy nods, as if that answers everything. Then his eyes wander up and down Tony’s body. Tony has to fight the urge to fold his arms over his chest. He hasn’t felt this around a guy in ages. Christ. When the guy finally looks back up, a slow smirk forming on his face, Tony actually stumbles a step. Hot guy snorts. "Well, come on in. Morgan’s been telling me all about you." He pauses, considering. "Gotta say, you’re not what I imagined at all…"
What? What does that mean? Is Tony better than imagined? Worse? Tony looks like shit right now, is the thing. If he’d known he was about to meet the most beautiful man on earth, he would’ve made more of an effort. Or, like, worn a shirt that wasn’t more holes than fabric.
But he’d been in the workshop all day, apart from that dreadful meeting earlier, and he tended to look, well, like he hadn’t showered in days when he was down there. He fake-laughs, self-consciously brushing a hand through his messy hair. "Oh, well, uh, she hasn’t told me anything about you. Not that. No, that came out wrong. I’m not accusing you of anything—I just meant."
"I get it," the guy says, still smiling. He sticks his hand out for a shake. "I’m Steve. Started working here a week ago. I’m sorry we hadn’t had the time to meet yet. But I did meet your wife. Virginia, right?" He turns without waiting for a reply, motioning for Tony to follow. "Morgan’s in the nap corner. She was feeling a little tired earlier."
"Ex wife," Tony corrects, following Steve into the house. "And you better not call her that to her face. She goes by Pepper."
Steve laughs. "Thanks for the heads up."
Tony smirks. He stops in his tracks after a second. Wait a moment. Steve. Stevie. "Wait, are you the legendary Stevie?"
For the past week, Morgan has done nothing but talk about Stevie . It’s always Stevie this, Stevie that. Tony found himself wondering what this Stevie looks like. He imagined a hippie, if he was honest, a woman with shaggy blonde hair dressed in long flowing dresses, singing about world peace and how we’re all connected to nature, and whatnot. Definitely not a man and definitely not this man in particular.
Tony doesn’t know many men that have the patience to expertly braid hair for hours on end or do flower bouquets out of the wild flowers growing in the preschool’s backyard with the children. Especially men that look like that.
But here they are.
Steve ducks his head. "Yep, that’d be me."
"Oh, well in that case, I do know you," Tony goes on, "Morgan’s going on and on about you." He pauses, waving his hand around. "Honestly expected you to be a woman. Sorry."
"Yeah, I get that a lot ‘round here. Hope that’s not a problem."
"No! Not at all."
Steve smiles. Tony is blinded for a moment by his smile. He shakes himself, clearing his throat. "Thank you so much for staying late. Things at work are a little hectic right now, and then traffic was just insane…"
Steve waves him away. "No worries, stuff like that happens."
Tony nods, wincing. "I did call ahead but nobody answered…"
Steve winces. "Yeah, we’re a little understaffed right now. Nat’s out with a cold and I couldn’t leave Morgan alone to rush to the office, sorry." He pauses, frowning. "If you. Well, if you don’t mind, I could give you my number. You could text me whenever you’re running late. I’m staying here until 4 PM anyway, working on finally finishing my dissertation. Can’t do that at home, way too many distractions…I’ve got two cats and a loud roommate." He cuts himself off, folding his arms over his chest.
If Tony’s not mistaken, he’s sort of blushing. Tony didn’t know men like that could blush.
But then again, he also didn’t think men like that existed in real life.
He opens and shuts his mouth several times. Well, if you don’t mind, I could give you my number. Tony definitely does not mind, although if Steve knew what Tony was thinking, he’d probably kick him out. Working on his dissertation, too. So he’s like, what, in his early thirties? Tony is way too old for him. Anyway, he’s probably straight. And even if he wasn’t , he’s Morgan’s teacher, which is a big, red NO.
"Yeah, okay, uh," Tony frees one hand to fish out his phone and hands it over.
Steve takes it with a smile, rapidly typing in his number, then hands it back over. Tony glances at his profile pic and freezes. It’s him in profile, smiling a wide, happy smile and—holding up a bi flag? Yeah, that’s definitely a bi flag. Tony narrows his eyes. Well. That could mean a lot of things. So he’s an ally, good for him. But if he was, wouldn’t he carry around the general pride flag? The bi flag seems…rather personal.
"Thanks," Tony says, looking back up. Steve is frowning. Maybe at his reaction? Tony wants to yell, Hey, me fucking too! What a coincidence! Wanna date? and then fall into Steve’s muscular arms, but that’s hardly appropriate. Steve’s on the job. Also, unavailable for a lot of other reasons.
Steve smiles, awkwardly now. "Morgan’s through here."
Right.
Tony smiles at Steve, then sticks his head through the door. Morgan does indeed look very sleepy where she’s curled around her stuffed bunny in the nap corner, but she jumps up the moments she sees Tony and vaults straight into his arms. It’s the best feeling ever.
"Hey, baby," Tony says, picking her up and hugging her close. "So sorry for being late."
"S’okay, daddy," Morgan mumbles into his shoulder.
Tony leaves a smacking kiss on her cheek, making her giggle. "Look at you, sleepyhead. Time to head home, huh? Someone needs their nap."
"’M not a sleepyhead," Morgan mumbles, but her eyes are drooping.
Steve snorts. "See you tomorrow, Morgan."
Morgan raises her head from Tony’s shoulder long enough to reach out toward Steve with one hand. Steve takes her hand in his and mimes kissing it. Morgan giggles. Tony could die from the cuteness. He’s in so much trouble. Smiling, he looks back at Morgan. "Think you can walk to the car by yourself?"
"No!" Morgan says, affronted. Tony laughs.
Steve smiles again. He smiles a lot. Probably because, you know, his job is to be around kids, but it’s making Tony’s insides twist. He awkwardly waves at Steve, then hurries out the door before he can embarrass himself further. God. He hasn't felt this way since, well, since ever. Shaking his head, he hurries to his car, fastening a half asleep Morgan into her seat. Then he sits himself behind the wheel and gets out his phone, staring at Steve’s profile pic for way too long.
Fuck. He’s so fucking gorgeous. And that fucking bi flag. Tony used to be better at reading men. And situations. But it’s been so long, and. Whatever. He knows he’s making shit up here. This is nothing but wishful thinking. Steve just went above and beyond for a well-paying customer, that’s all. But Tony has his number and there’s no reason he shouldn’t text him his back, in case of emergencies and. And whatever else.
He clicks on the blank message field before he can change his mind, quickly typing out Thanks again for staying late. This is Morgan’s dad btw
The reply is instantaneous. no problem :) i’m happy to help
Haha I feel like I need to pay you extra for this. Next week will be crazy at work :o
haha no need, this is my job
No, I insist!! You’re going above and beyond here
well, i wouldn’t say no to a nice dinner ;)
Tony stares down at his phone, unblinking. Did he just. No way.
A moment later, a second massage comes through. shit sorry that was so inappropriate. pls forget i said anything. nat will kill me
Tony lets out a hysterical laugh in his car. What are the odds? What are the fucking odds? Smiling, he types out, Does Friday, 8 PM work for you? I know a good Italian in Williamsburg.
Steve takes forever to reply. Then: sounds good :)
Tony lets out a heavy breath. Well, there goes his good intentions. But Steve. Steve is special, Tony can already tell. Steve could be—well, Tony probably shouldn’t get ahead of himself here. With one last look at Morgan sleeping peacefully in the backseat, Tony starts the ignition. He smiles all the way home.
#me? writing non power au's and fluff and also tony stark being all tongue-tied around steve?#it's more likely than you think#but honestly just for a prompt agdgdh#my fic#stevetony fic#stevetony#stony fic
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❝ 𝐘𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐙𝐀 𝐅𝐈𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 ❞
❝ WHAT HAPPENS WHEN TWO YAKUZA HEIRS ARE FIGHTING OVER WHO GETS TO MARRY YOU ?? ❞
✧ pairing: yakuza!satoru gojo x f!reader x yakuza!suguru geto
✧ summary: you had no patience for the yakuza lifestyle your grandfather had -- you wanted to live a normal life, but when it leaks that your grandfather is in talks to have you engaged to one of two yakuza heirs -- you realize you're in deeper than you thought -- especially when they both fall in love with you.
✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, fluff, inspired / dialogue / scene concepts taken from the manga “yakuza fiance,” (which the fic is named after), reader's age is ambiguous, but all are 20s+, violence (as expected from mafia / yakuza stories), blood, stsg have tattoos, implied satosugu (just a passing mention of dating briefly), stsg have sadomasochistic tendencies, a little ooc, switch! gojo (very sub gojo), switch! geto, oral (f + m), deepthroating, handjob (m), fingering (f! receiving), double penetration, sex (p in v), creampie, poly relationship implied ending,
✧ wc: 18,476
“I don’t want to marry either of you,”
And your statement is met with confused stares — and normally stares like this wouldn’t be terrifying to the average person, but these were not average men you were dealing with.
Satoru Gojo and Suguru Geto were anything but average — in many ways.
Both were incredibly handsome — Satoru was blessed with a piercing blue gaze of the heavens and snow white locks that could stun any person into silence, and Suguru was no slouch either — with long inky black locks tied into a neat bun and his sharp features and his almost all too alluring smile — the two of them looked like they belonged to a modeling agency. Both were also brilliant, attending one of the best high schools in Tokyo, before going to the best university, leading in their respective specialities (Satoru studying physics, while Suguru chose literature).
And, the two were both the heirs to two of the most dangerous Yakuza families in all of Japan.
But right now, they are your biggest problems, personified.
Their families were both vying for your hand in marriage — thanks to your meddling grandfather who shipped you off to Tokyo to get a would-be Yakuza husband — your yakuza family hoping to broker peace after decades upon decades of fighting with one of the other two biggest yakuza families around — the Gojo and Geto families respectively.
“Excuse me?” Suguru speaks first, a single eyebrow raised, arms crossed over his crisp white button up.
“I’m not here for this yakuza bullshit. I’m trying to live my own life — and I’m not in the mood to get swept along in my grandfather’s wishes for me to get married,” your hand is in your bag, fingers curled around your collapsible metal pole, “and I don’t care to know either of you, I don’t really care to stick around you — especially because all its earned me is the disdain of all the other students who have crushes on you — so how about we simply tolerate each other for this year?”
Satoru whistles, “how disappointing,” his eyes raking over you from head to toe, “you’re worse than your reputation — we heard you were a stuck-up, spoiled rich girl that would do anything to get her way, but turns out you’re just normal,” he sticks out his tongue and makes a gagging noise, “how boring,”
“Truly tiresome,” Suguru hums, his bangs falling in his dark gaze, “I was looking forward to a woman who could match up to us — maybe fuck me up, punish me, and strip away my dignity — type of girl who’d ruin my life, do you understand?”
You stare at him, lips parted, brow furrowed, “What?”
“In other words, we were hoping you were much more interesting than you were — as you are now, you’re just useless,” Satoru sighs dramatically, his pink lips curled in a smile, “bor-inggggg,”
“You might as well go back to Osaka, or wherever it was you came from,” Suguru shrugs, hands in his pockets, as he pulls a cigarette and a lighter, “you could stay, but as it stands, you would be better off back home — maybe it would even start a war — that could be fun, Satoru,” he remarks, his grin growing more sinister by the minute, as he places the cigarette between his lips, and lighting it.
“Let’s actually not be so hasty, Suguru. She could have some use,” he holds out his fingers to frame you between them, “could be worth something if we have her work at one of our families clubs — selling her body. She could make some use for us,” he says cruelly, “Otherwise, go back home, and let them know we’re the ones not interested in you,” he says, brushing past you along with Suguru.
And you couldn’t decide which one of their smiles were the most bone chilling — and why you couldn’t quite find your voice in that moment. And you didn’t — not until you finally reached home, your phone ringing.
“How’s it going, dear granddaughter?” you could hear the grin of the old coot even over the phone — and how could you tell him you wanted to go home now? You had hoped to go there to give two rejections — not earn two of your own. You hoped to stick out the year before leaving this place behind, if only to appease your grandfather.
“I’m fine, but I think…I think I’m homesick,” you sit on the edge of your bed, hunched over, hand holding your head up, propped against your knee.
“Why’s that? Did something happen?”
“Nothing, I just—”
“You’re not coming back home,” and your hopes fall, “one year, you have to stay one year no matter what. Don’t care if you have to fight with every bone in your body and fiber of your being — last a year,”
“But why—”
“Make those boys fall for you, and then break their hearts, heh — your grandfather is a heartbreaker and I know you can do the same,” and you know his lips are curled in a smile not too dissimilar to the two men you met today, “don’t forget where you come from — and what you’re worth,” and he cuts the line, as you stare at your phone, before tossing it away and lying back.
Well, you know what you had to do.
~~~
“Morning,” you know where’d they be — the only free period they had together that they spent in the dining hall with their entourage — including some girls who had been harassing you about how you knew the pair — ones you had suspected in fucking with your locker, smearing mud all over your shoes. A small retaliation for capturing their precious crushes’ attention.
The two heirs only stare for a moment — it had been two weeks since they had seen you, “thought I had gone home?”
“Surprised you didn’t,” Suguru remarks, utterly disinterested from the look in his eyes, despite the smile plastered on his lips, “guess I lost the bet, Satoru,”
You raise an eyebrow at Satoru, “you thought I’d stay?”
“Thought you'd stay to take me up on my offer to sell your body,” he holds out his hand as Suguru slaps a stack of bills in his palm, “did you?”
“I did actually,” your lips curl, as their gazes slide to one another, before you drop a bag on their table, “one kidney, 5,000,000 yen,” and you take delight in the smiles that slide off their expressions, as they stare at you, Satoru looking over the lip of the bag before you knocked it over and let the stacks of money spill over the table, “it took two weeks since it took a while to arrange and recover, but it was well worth it,”
The pair only can stare — expression unreadable and words seemingly stolen from their mouths, as you only smiled down at them, your gaze digging into their faces like daggers.
Suguru’s eyebrows knit together, “How did you—“
“Friend of a friend,” you shrug, “I’ll have to be on a low sodium diet and probably do blood work a little more frequently but you were right about one thing — I was being weak,” you lift up your shirt to show the bandage on your side, their eyes wide, as they can only stare, “I won’t be making that mistake again,”
And you place your foot up on their table, leaning in, as the mask slips from your face, and your anger surges forth, “listen here, you masochistic fuckers, I’m not scared of either one of you. I don’t care if I have to crawl home choking on my own blood, I’ll be sure you’re choking on each other’s as I drag you both to hell. I’m staying here, whether either of you like it or not,”
“You can’t talk to them like that—“ one of the girls pipes up, her lips twisted in a frown.
“I can talk to them however I want - do you know who I am? I come from a family just like there’s but we actually know how to cover up our crimes,” you chuckle, head tilting, “do you know how easy it’d be to get rid of you two?” Your gaze slides to the other girl, “it’d be all too simple — and trust me, I’d get my hands dirty if it’s the two of you,” your lips curl into a wide grin as you add, “after all, you guys did me the favor of dirtying my shoes already,”
And the two blanch white, all indignance replaced with genuine fear — and you had never known someone could look at you as someone to be feared.
And you didn’t know you would like it so much.
You staple the smile on your face again, as the two heirs still sit speechless in their seats, eyes glued to you, “Well that’s all,” you slide back, “I have to head to class—”
But then your wrists are caught — pulling you back, as you find yourself pinned on either side by the two heirs, your body tense, before your gaze slides between them, “What?”
“Marry me,” they both say simultaneously — and you gape at them.
You are pushing them back, palms pressed against their chests, but find yourself met with two immovable objects, instead trying to squirm out of their grips. “What?” And their grips loosen enough for you to take a step back, but their hands remain around your wrists.
“I have to have you,” Suguru presses a chaste kiss to the back of your hand, dark gaze lidded as he looks up at you, and a shiver climbs up your spine, “I’ve never been so terrified or turned on in my life — it must be love,”
Satoru is the same, mesmerized with eager words, “I want you to do what you promised, Princess — ruin my life,” Satoru’s lips curled in a wide grin, “want you to completely fuck me up, dominate my entire life — and there’s only one way to do that, marry me,”
Suguru only scowls at Satoru, “You know Satoru, it’s very rude to propose after your best friend does,” Suguru’s gaze slides to him, “she’s mine,” and his other hand finds your shoulder, pulling you against his chest, even as you struggle against their grips, “her family reached out to mine first,”
“Fuckers, I swear to god, let me go—“ but they act as if they can’t hear you, a current of possessiveness sweeping their thoughts away.
“So what? Her family decided to ask for my hand — looks like yours wasn’t good enough,” Satoru only grins, pulling you against him instead, his breath warming your flushed skin, as you grimace, “and I’d make her happier than you ever would.”
“Want to take this outside, Satoru?” Suguru’s glare sent chills down your spine, but Satoru’s lips split into a smile so wide, you were afraid his head would crack in two.
“Why? Feeling lonely? Go by yourself,”
And finally you stomp on Satoru’s foot before elbowing Suguru in the stomach, drawing groans from both boys, as you stumble away from them, whirling to face them, “Don’t treat me like your goddamn property or that I’m a prize to be won,” your words slip like venom from your lips, “don’t ever fucking touch me without asking,”
“Of course, we’re sorry,” Suguru only grins after, holding his stomach, but he still looks all too delighted, “you should reprimand us like the scum we are, isn’t that right Satoru?”
Satoru nods, pouting, “Yeah we deserve more of a punishment,” and your skin crawls at their eagerness.
“I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with you two, but I don’t want anything to do with it,” you walk away, hiding your dumbstruck expression, but the two only followed you.
“You can’t just walk away from us, you have to decide who you want,” Suguru calls after you, their long strides meant they caught up all too fast, and you’re armed with your collapsible pole now, pointing it at both of them.
“Two minutes ago, both of you thought I was normal and boring,” your eyes narrow — was this another plot to just sell you to some club?
“And I’m sorry about that sweetheart,” Satoru’s arm is around your waist again, while Suguru’s fingers intertwined with yours, “we were clearly wrong — and you have to take responsibility,”
You stare at them, “for what?”
And he’s leaning to whisper in your ear, “I’m so hard for you right now,” And you’re whirling on them with the pole, but they both expertly dodge your assault, before you’re hurrying away. But they let you go, watching after you with a grin.
“This is going to be fun,” Suguru remarks, looking at his best friend, “I can’t guarantee I won’t kill you for her hand,”
Satoru only smirks in reply, “You stole the words out of my mouth, Suguru.”
~~~
It had been a week — a week of you trying skillfully to evade the two yakuza heirs.
And you had failed. No matter how fast you left your classes, where you hid, where you sat — the two always found you. And now you have resorted to sitting outside to eat your lunch, being careful to avoid any stray glance of your presence. You sat, back against the building, as you held your head, bento box in your lap — how long until they would get the message? How long until they figured out you wanted nothing to do with them?
Your grandpa had told you to make them fall for you, but you didn’t think you had too much more to do with how the two were following you around, dogging your every step.
How would you last another year?
You opened your bento — at least for once, you could enjoy your lunch without one of them—
“There you are,” and your lunch nearly goes tumbling out of your lap, but you grasp it, keeping your food from spilling out of your bento, and you turn to meet the gaze of Suguru, leaning against the windowsill, “you’re a fast one, sweetheart,” his head tilted and lips curled in his signature smile.
“How the fuck did you find me so fast?” you stare at him, brow furrowed, “it’s barely been five minutes, and this campus is huge,”
“It’s the power of love, of course,” you cringe, and he laughs, bringing his knuckles to his lips, “oh rather, it’s the power of the tracking device I slipped in your bag,”
And you blink, “You what?”
He shrugs, “Well how else would I have found you so quickly? I’ll slip it in your shoe next time,” and he sighs, as you dig through your bag, before turning it upside down and letting your things spill out on the grass, “besides, there’s a good reason I’m tracking you,” and you find the tracker before stomping on it, digging your heel into it, crushing it into the dirt, “there’s been a kidnapping of another Yakuza heiress,”
And your eyes flit to him, and he’s still smiling at you, “Who?” you continue to collect your things, shaking out textbooks and examining your things for any other hidden trackers.
“You’ll learn tonight — come to the compound tonight — you’ve been formally invited by both my father and Satoru’s father,” and he’s hopping out of the window, fingers brushing yours as he hands you your pencil case, and he’s all too close now, his warm breath warming your lips.
“And if I refuse?” and his lips curl in a smirk.
“You’d be offending not only my family, but Satoru’s as well—” and he’s rising to his feet, offering you a hand, “and it might end in an all out war, but that would be just fine for us — would it for you?”
You glare at him, taking his hand reluctantly, as he helps you to your feet, and you brush the dirt from your skirt and legs, “Fine, what time?”
“After school, Satoru will be waiting by the gates for you,” he smiles, as he settles next to you, pulling out his own lunch, and you tilt your head, “oh are you curious about me? I have my own business to attend to,”
“Is that what the other bastard is up to?” and he chuckles at that, taking a bite of his food.
“Something like that.”
~~~~
“Took you long enough, pretty,” the Gojo heir’s eyes drag over you like spotlights as he leans against the gate outside, the other students staring as you two speak, whispering as they walk by, slowing down to either catch a longer glance at Satoru or hear a bit of your conversation, “with being so quick to leave for lunch, I thought you’d be just as quick leaving the building,” and he’s offering you a drink from the vending machine that you reluctantly take.
“Well, I wasn’t exactly looking forward to being a spectacle,” you grumble, as you power walk away from the burgeoning traffic jam that Satoru was causing, and he follows behind, “why do they all stare anyway? They know you're a yakuza, don’t they?”
“Part of the draw,” he shrugs, the hiss of his own soda filling the air as he pops it open, “everyone wants what they can’t have, but don’t worry, I only have eyes for you, sweetheart,” you grimace as he sips at his soda, raising an eyebrow, “so what can’t you have?”
You both finally reach the heart of the city, bustling with people left and right — the one thing you couldn’t get used to from the quieter life you led, “Some peace and quiet, apparently,” you adjust your bag on your shoulder in a tighter grip, if only you could lose him in this crowd and be done with all this shit, but it wasn’t that simple, and then it occurs to you, “did you put a tracker on me as well?”
“Nah, I just used Suguru’s,” he smiles, as he downs the rest of his drink with his head thrown back, before crushing the can in his hand and tossing it away in the recycling bin nearby, “plus, I didn’t have time, been busy with other things, unfortunately,”
“What things have you—”
And you’re suddenly tugged into an alleyway, an arm around your neck and a hand clamped over your mouth, “Don’t struggle, it will only make it more difficult for you,” the man whispers in your ear, as another two men draw closer to your sides, “we’ll kill you if you do,”
You can’t scream, but you don’t need to — because the man who grabbed you screams first.
“Who the fuck are—” and he screams, his hands slipping from your side, the thump of his body against the pavement making you flinch, as you slowly turn to find Gojo, as he only glares at the other men, before his gaze slides to you, softening with a smile.
“Sweetheart, it’s okay, come here,” and you swallow, before taking shaky steps to his side, and he’s pulling you behind him, “wait here,”
It happens far too quickly.
Or maybe it’s just a blur now. Because now he’s beaten the three men into submission, their scarlet blood splattering against his uniform, the wet squelch of their flesh as he punches and kicks them, his shoe digging into their sides. He winds his fist back again.
“That’s enough,” you say hoarsely, swallowing thickly, “they’re barely alive,”
“More than they deserve,” he mutters, before sighing and grabbing one by his shirt, fabric straining against the dead weight of the man, and pulls him close, his hand connecting with his face as he slaps him awake, “You hear me? Listen,” he shakes him, until the man’s eyes blink open, bleary, “You see me? Don’t forget my face. You touch her again — and it’s the last thing you’ll see before the afterlife, got that?”
“Yes,” the man slurs.
“That’s my girl,” he jerks his head at you, “she’s mine and if you or any of your stupid friends or family see her, don’t talk or touch her, much less even look at her,” and his lips curl again, “or I promise my family and the Geto family will slaughter you — until there’s nothing left.” and he drops the man onto the ground, “let’s go,” he mutters, shaking the blood off his knuckles, before using the inside of his uniform jacket to wipe the rest off.
“Your uniform, it's—” and he glances at the blood seeping into the fabric of his jacket and crisp shirt, and you’re digging through your bag, “I have my hand towel and some—” and he’s shaking his head.
“I have a sweatshirt I can wear in my bag,” and he’s tugging off his uniform jacket and unbuttoning his shirt, and you can’t look away fast enough — not before seeing the tattoo littering his back.
A large lion against his back, seemingly roaring, against a backdrop of bamboo, stared back at you, as your breath catches in your throat — he wasn’t just a spoiled heir, he was a real yakuza. And what he did to those men — his eyes met yours again, as he tugged the sweatshirt on, lips still in that ridiculous smile — it was likely the least of what he could really do to them.
“Oh, sorry, guess I never told ya,” he pulls the orange sweatshirt down, pulling a pair of sunglasses on, and your horrified expression in the circular black rims stare back at you, “sorry for scaring you, sweetheart,”
“You’re really—” you cut off, heart caught in your throat. Yeah, you had spent too much of your life surrounded by men covered in tattoos, but these two — their auras — were on another level that was simply — terrifying.
“A yakuza?” he finishes, peering at you over the rim of his sunglasses, “Surprised it took you this long to figure out — thought you had that pieced together a while ago — what? I assume your family shielded you from that kind of violence — probably had guards on you 24/7 so no one would mess with you. Well you aren’t in Osaka anymore,” his fingers intertwined with yours, his larger hand engulfing yours as he tugs you along away from the alley, the faint groans of the men disappearing into the ambient noise of the city, “Stay close, princess.”
And you flushed, biting your lip. There was a lot you didn’t know, but you knew you better learn — you spare one glance back at the alley — and quick.
~~~
You both arrive back to the compound, as you’re funneled into a room, you get a glimpse of Suguru in an adjacent hallway, his clothes as bloodied as Satoru’s was, if not more. His dark eyes catch yours and his lips curl, as he holds his hand up as a greeting, mouthing, “Yo,”
You’re shepherded away to sit, and soon enough, Satoru and Suguru join you, as you fidget in the middle of the room, the three of you sit on cushions, while another cushion directly in front of you. Your fingers can't help but toy with the ribbon on the front of your uniform — what if this was just a ruse to sell you off? Maybe they even found out about you selling your kidney? Anxiety swirled in your mind, dragging down your body to even the tips of your toes, your body buzzing and stinging with thoughts.
“This really is just a talk to discuss the missing Yakuza heiress,” Suguru cuts through your thoughts, as you stare at him, slack jawed, and he only shrugs, leaning back against his hands flat on the floor, “you’re not hard to read, sweetheart,”
“Besides, if we wanted to kill you, why not let you die in that alleyway?” Satoru chimes in, ever so helpful, as you glare at him, before his gaze slides to Suguru, “did you take care of that like I asked, Suguru?” and he nods, and before you can ask a question, the door slides open.
Instead of the heads of the household, a yakuza comes in, sunglasses stare back at you, his dark brown hair slicked back, shaved on the sides of his head, as he stared down at the three of you, “The heads won’t be able to make it to this meeting — something has come up,”
“Yaga, good to see you,” Suguru chirps, while Satoru only sighs, hands behind his head.
“Glad to see you haven’t gotten yourself killed since you’ve been away, old man—“ and Satoru earns a fist to his head, “ow!”
“Keep it up and you’ll get something worse than a whack to the head,” Yaga grumbles, taking his seat, “you must be the girl,” he eyes you up and down, “I’ll get straight to the point — the Akazawa heiress is missing. She’s assumed to be kidnapped,” he hands you a photo of her — shoulder length black hair, her eyes look past the camera, her head tilted downwards, but her hazel eyes pierce through the picture.
“How long has she been gone?” Suguru asks, “any chance that she just ran off?”
“There’s a chance she’s been sold off for a couple hundred thou,” Satoru remarks, crossing his arms, “people would pay a premium for a yakuza heiress,” and his eyes slide to you, and you glare back.
“We don’t know — maybe she ran off, maybe she’s been sold, maybe there’ll be a ransom coming in at one point or another, or maybe she’s dead—” and you bite your lip, “but we can’t take the risk, especially since we have a similar heiress under our care now,” Yaga says, crossing his arms with a hefty sigh, “that being said, you’ll be staying at the compound until further notice— your things have already been brought here,“ you gape at him, mouth nearly hanging open, “and you’ll have Satoru or Suguru with you at all times — their schedules have been rearranged to have class with you,”
“But—“ and Yaga shoots a look at you that silences your protests.
“These orders came from the three heads, including your grandfather, would you like to defy them?” And your mouth clamps shut, your head falling.
“No, sir,” Yaga rises, leaving, but not before ordering the two heirs to show you where you’ll be staying, “and any real threats to you appear, and your classes will be made online and you will remain under guard in the compound,” Yaga adds before disappearing behind another door.
“It won’t be that bad, Princess,” Suguru grins, as they walk you to your room, “now we can really get to know each other before we’re married,”
“Don’t you mean before we’re married?” Satoru says, as Suguru only smiles back at him.
“I would rather not marry you, Satoru, dating you for a week was enough—“ and Satoru opens his mouth to reply.
“I’m not marrying either of you,” you rub your head, feeling the beginnings of a headache creeping on your temples — you barely could make it through the day with enduring the amount of insanity these two already inflicted, you were sure you’d murder one or both of them if you had to spend 24/7 with them, “we should be keeping a low profile from now on, not going out—”
“Except for the dates we have planned,” Satoru says, offering you the key to your room, and you unlock the door, stepping inside.
“Especially not for those.” And you slam the door shut and lock it.
Your eyes take in the boxes that surround you, full of the things from your apartment, and sigh.
Fuck, this really was your life now, wasn’t it?
~~~
“Why are you staring at me?” you can’t ignore Suguru’s stare in the subway, even when you refuse to meet it. The light from the windows flooded into the subway, flickering as the carts sped by, as the two of you hung onto the grab handles. Your usual peaceful ride to university was now impeded by Suguru who stood by your side, his eyes seemingly glued to you.
“I see that your left side is slower to respond than your right,” and you shift under his gaze, “that’s why your bag is always on your left side, so you can spot a threat easier and have a stronger grip, smart,”
You raise an eyebrow, “How did you figure that out?”
He shrugs, “From observation — I also move a little slower on my left — I even blink slower,” and you face him, staring into his eyes, trying to notice any difference between the two eyes. The only thing you could see is how pretty they really were — dark and lidded, not as bright or striking as Satoru’s, but just as mysterious.
“I can’t tell,” you tilt your head, and he only smiles.
“There isn’t a difference, but I got you to stare into my eyes, didn’t I?” and you glower at him, your remark cut off by the influx of people flooding into the cart. Fuck, you never had seen it this full before. You forced yourself not to cringe under the tight quarters — you could handle this, it wasn’t a big deal, even as the people sandwiched themselves all around you, anxiety biting at your nerves. And then you’re knocked around by the crowd as the cart jerks, but then, Suguru is pulling you lightly so your back is pressed against a wall and he’s caging you in, his body protecting you.
Your breath catches — he’s so close, “You don’t have to—” and your gazes meet again, your breath catching, your bag caught between your bodies. He’s nearly pressed against you, the heat from his form seeps into your own. And he smells good, despite the sticky heat of the summer lingering — something musky but sharp at the same time — what was that scent?
“You seemed uncomfortable,” he says, his hand holding onto the grab handle above, “this seemed like the easiest solution, especially so I can protect you — it would be much easier to shield you with my body this way,”
“Shut up,” you grumble, as he chuckles, before you’re sighing, “I’m not used to taking the subway — I used to have a car that took me back and forth,” you chew your lip, “I didn’t want you to think I couldn’t take care of myself,”
“Makes sense to have you driven — as a yakuza heiress, they wanted precautions,” Suguru nods, his eyes sliding around the cart, “you never know,”
“Is that why your eyes keep scanning the subway cart?” you raise an eyebrow.
And his lips curl, “I did say I’d protect you with my life, didn’t I?”
“Did you mean that?”
A chuckle escaped his lips, a noise that makes your breath catch, as the cart jerks again, pressing you both even closer, “I never say anything that I don’t mean, princess.”
~~~
“Is following me around really necessary even after classes?” you hadn’t bothered to pull your usual disappearing act — it was counterproductive in multiple ways (the first being that either of them would find you and the second being you had to be glued to one of their sides at all times), “it’s not like someone is going jump from the shadows and kidnap me on campus.”
“You don’t know that for sure, do you, princess?” Satoru drawls lazily, as he twirls his dinner knife around his fingers with a skill that said he’d done it a million times before — probably instead of doing the thing he was supposed to be doing, “a man comes up behind you while you’re studying or shopping, presses a weapon or gun to your side, just out of view, and he’s got the perfect hostage,”
You raise an eyebrow, “You sound like you’ve done it before,” and the knife stops between his middle finger and pointer, the tip pointed at you, as he looks at you over the rim of his sunglasses.
“Don’t get jealous, sweetheart, you’re the only girl I’d want to kidnap,” he leans forward and swipes a mochi from your plate — even though he had already ate his own — and you scoff, as you turn your attention back to your neglected dessert, choosing to use your brain cells to focus on your food instead of this psycho.
“How lucky,” you mutter, as you stab your remaining mochi instead of your escort, “do the two of you have to take shifts like this? I’m surprised the two of you aren’t glued to my sides 24/7 together,”
“We thought it was only fair the two of us split our time — and as much as I’d like to spend each and every hour with you, we both unfortunately have other responsibilities to tend to,” and he takes a bite of the mochi, “plus, this way, we get to spend time with you alone without the other interfering, and trust me, if I saw you with Suguru,” his lips curl, “I’d interfere,”
“Well you don’t have to be worried about that, because I don’t plan on being with either one of you,” you reply, “I’m here to finish school and go home as soon as I can,”
“You won’t be saying that once I make you fall for me,”
You get to your feet, as you pull out your wallet — but Satoru waves you off, already pulling out his card for the waiter, “You’d have a better chance making me fall for you if you tripped me,” you roll your eyes, as you round the booth, and quick as a light, you trip right into his arms, your body bumping against his chest as his arms steady you. A hand tilts your face up to meet cerulean eyes filled with mirth, “did you trip—”
And then you spot the chair leg you had tripped over oh-so-gratefully, “I don’t need to resort to those measures to make you fall for me, princess,” his finger traces your jaw with a featherlight touch, “I have plenty of other ways to do that,”
You get to your feet properly and shove him away, as he chuckled, as you rolled your eyes, “Maybe in your twisted dreams, but—” And Satoru is tugging you away from the booth — a tight arm around you waist, as you stammer, “what the fuck are you—”
“Guy’s been following you — just spotted him from a distance,” he murmurs, and your shoulders tense, resisting the urge to look back, “just keep walking with me, don’t worry,” his arm gently squeezed you, “won’t let anything happen to you, princess,”
“Don’t call me that,” you murmur, as he leads you back inside the closest building, “where are we—” and he’s pulling out his phone, texting several people.
“Getting us a ride in case I need to get you to safety, and letting Suguru know of the situation,” he offers you a small grin, “I could send you back, but that would be that and you will be on lockdown. Things might be getting a little more interesting from here — so it’s your choice, will you stay or go?”
You considered your choices — you could run away from this, go back to the compound, but going back was a guarantee that you would be stuck 24/7 in the compound and stuck there for the remainder of your time here. And these two would take full advantage of that. Plus, your mind wandered to the girl who had been taken — you wanted to know more about what happened to her and why you were being targeted next.
“Let’s go,” and his lips curl. The two of you round several street corners, Satoru’s arm remains tight around your waist, as he leads to a more and more secluded corner of the city, “is this the right move?” your hand wanders into your pocket, fingers around your collapsible pole.
He sighs dramatically, “Do you have such little faith in me, sweetheart?”
“Considering the two of you are insane, yes, I do,” and he clicks his tongue at you, “where—”
And someone punches you, fist connecting with your left cheek as you stumble sideways into the wall of a nearby building. You hear the cock of a gun, your eyes catch sight of the weapon pointed at Satoru. You caught a glimpse as your eyes flicker open, several men stand behind him, all bearing weapons of some sort.
Your ears ring, as you clutch at your head, as you struggle to get your balance, your vision in your left eye blurry from the impact, “Come with me, and your girlfriend won’t have to watch you die,” you feel something warm run down your nose, and you touch it — scarlet stains your fingers.
Fuck.
Your eyes flicker back to where Satoru stands, eyes flickering to you, a shiver running down your spine at his hard gaze — not a hint of euphoria left — his lips a thin line, and his fists clenched, “I’ll fucking kill you,” his words leave in a whispered hiss, and quick as lightning, the gun is knocked from his fingers, and Satoru’s got him pinned down, fist winding back to punch his head in. The other men don’t hesitate to join the fray, just as Satoru doesn’t hesitate to take them down, blood spilling from their bodies as they fall one by one.
You said you would be stronger — that you wouldn’t let this happen again. You weren’t some person who needed to be sheltered away. Your fingers clutched at the pole in your pocket, pulling it out, as you slowly uncollapsed it — you were a yakuza heir, just as much as these two were.
One of them got up to shaky feet, lifting up his knife to stab Satoru from behind, “DIE!” and you slam into his side, hitting over the head with the pole — a grisly crack as the pole nearly snaps against his skull.
“Fuck off and die!” the words leave your lips as you taste your own blood dripping from your nose. And you can feel Satoru turn to see you, eyes wide as he stares — your words burn as much as your head hurts, as you wipe the blood from your nose.
And the men are all down now, as Satoru walks over to you, and his fingers reach gently for your face, as he examines the blood dripping, “it’s just a nosebleed,” you say, and his gaze softens ever so slightly, before darkening, as a groan comes from the man that punched you.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” your heart flutters at his gentle touch, the calluses of his fingers against your cheek, as he pulls tissues from his pocket to wipe the blood from your nose.
And his eyes linger on your face for a moment, before he turns to the culprit, fingers clenched tightly around the napkin soaked in your blood.
He drags the man up by the collar, shaking him, a gurgled groan leaving his bloody lips, “You might want to go, sweetheart — I have to make sure I let this one die for ever laying a hand on my woman—“ and you clasp your hand on his shoulder, shaking your head.
“He’s half dead already — you don’t need to finish the job,” and he pouts, shaking the man again for good measure.
“You said he should die—“
You shrug, “People like this aren’t worth the trouble of killing. And you don’t need more problems on your hands — so if you’re doing this for me, don’t bother. Let’s just go,”
And you see his lips slowly curl into a grin, as he pulls you into a hug, arms around you waist, as he runs his fingers through your hair gingerly, “I didn’t realize you cared, sweetheart,” and you frown, “don’t want me getting in more trouble, huh? If it’s for you, I’ll oblige, but you owe me one,” and his fingers slide under your chin.
“Oi, is the party over without me?” A familiar voice calls, Suguru walks over, several other Yakuza in tow, his sleeves rolled up, as he takes a once over of the situation, seemingly uninterested in the scum, his eyes falling on you and Satoru, lingering on the blood that still was trickling from your nose. His eyes narrowed, “which one—”
“It’s already taken care of, Suguru,” Satoru rubs the back of his head, “but for your information,” he kicks the one who had punched you in his side, forcing him to roll over, a slight groan escaping his lips, “that’s the one who hurt her,”
Suguru nodded, stepping over the bodies as if it was nothing more than a spill that had been yet to be cleaned up, as his hand brushes over your chin softly, drawing close, a sharp gasp leaving your lips when his fingers decide to travel to your nose, “It’s not broken, just bleeding, but I should still get her checked out at the compound,”
“You?” Satoru furrows his brow, “you’re going to leave me—”
“To clean up your own mess? Yes, I am,” Suguru smiles, “because it’s my turn to keep watch,” as he shows his watch, already well past midnight, “and I should be getting her back to the compound,” the two glare at each other, a tension settling over the scene that you were far too done with.
You sigh, stepping past both of them, walking over the bodies splayed out on the floor, “Let me know when you both decide,” you yawn, hands in your pockets now, “I need sleep,” and Suguru follows behind, and you don’t see him turn to smirk at Satoru.
~~~~
You swore someone was watching you.
A presence loomed over you, hovering slightly, as you shifted in your sleep, a sigh parting your lips as you turned, still caught between in realms of deep sleep as you drifted in and out, eyes fluttering open a moment, and caught sight of a shadow.
No, it was nothing. It was nothing. And then you’d wake to sunlight filtering through your windows, eyes fluttering open, but you would still wake with the lingering touch of someone else against your face.
But each morning you’d check the locks, and it would be locked, with no signs of tampering — and you’d be left wondering if it was a dream or not.
It had been like this for the last week — you’d sense a presence, for a split second of what you thought was consciousness, and then it would be morning again.
And finally, you decided to stay awake, a knife you had pilfered away from the kitchen under your pillow. You let your eyes drift shut, drifting in and out of a half sleep, until you hear it.
The slow slide of the door opening, and the soft close of the door behind. The person takes nearly soundless steps towards you, before leaning above you and you feel the faint brush of hair against your skin, before leaning back with a quiet sigh.
Suguru?
And his fingers slide through your hair softly. He watches over you, quietly, until you turn to face him, eyes open.
“You know it’s really creepy to break into a woman’s room in the middle of the night,” and Suguru blinks, before his lips curl in a small smirk, “and it’s even weirder when you just sit there to watch her sleep,”
“Just trying to make sure you’re safe, sweetheart,”
“In a locked room?” And he shrugs.
“I broke in easily,” and you scoff, as he rakes his own fingers through his hair, “who else would keep an eye on you?”
You sit up, crossing your arms, “Surprised you and Satoru aren’t in here,”
“We take turns,” and you stare at him, as he leans back against the wall, “all we do is keep watch princess — would you have let us in otherwise?”
You open and shut your mouth, before you find words again amidst the haze of frustration, “I’m not so fucking helpless that you both need to sit here and watch me sleep,”
“We have been doing this since the threats began nearly and you only noticed recently,” he points out, his eyes catching the faint light of the moon, as cautious and patient as Suguru was — his expression as indiscernible as a new moon was, “and it’s only because Satoru had gotten sloppy,” he shrugs.
You rub at your temples, “you’re not the only one who is a yakuza—“
Suguru tilts his head, “Princess, you don’t know what it means to be one — not even your fingers have never been bloodied, and it should stay that way—“
Your fingers close around the handle of the knife as you lunge at him — you snapped. You were tired — tired of the men in your life running your life — your grandfather, these yakuza heads, and these two idiots — all of them treating you as if you were spineless.
And you weren’t.
His hand darts out — and it happens quickly. The knife clatters against the hardwood, and he’s pinned you underneath him.
You glare, embarrassment licks at your cheeks like flames — you had placed your fingers on the stovetop and what were you expecting other than to get burned? You can’t meet his gaze, and you’re expecting another lecture or sanctimonious attitude, but instead, his fingers skim your cheek, “You should pick your battles wisely, sweetheart — because not all of them will let you off the hook,” and he leans close, breath warming your lips, as your eyes can’t help but squeeze shut.
Only to wince after a sharp flick to your forehead.
And his weight leaves you at once, your head turning to find him examining the knife you had stolen, “You should also choose a better weapon than a kitchen knife — especially one as dull as this one,”
You scowl at him, “Well, how else will I defend myself?”
And he smiles, shrugging, “Isn’t it simple? Use the weapons already at your disposal,”
Your brow knots together, “What weapons?” And his hand is sliding the door open, as he casts one more glance over his shoulder, lips curled in that insufferable smile.
“The ones sworn to you.”
~~~~
“You’re staying home tomorrow from class,” the thermometer is plucked from between your lips, the white haired yakuza scrutinizing your room, cerulean eyes catching the pile of tissues you had failed to stuff properly in your trash bin, “how long have you had this, Princess?”
You lay bedridden and pouting as you draw the covers over your face — you had not been feeling well this whole weekend, but you developed a fever last night. You thought it would be gone by the morning, “Just since this morning,” and he’s tugging the covers away, his brow wrinkled, and then you see it, bandages on his forehead, “when did you get hit on the head?”
And he blink, fingers running through his hair, “This? It’s nothing,” and you raise an eyebrow, “if you must know, it’s just my punishment for taking you into the thick of things the other day,”
Your brow wrinkles, “Who—“
He waves you off, “It’s not important — the important thing is that you get better — can’t have my future wife succumbing to the flu, now can I?” And you scoff.
“I’m not your future wife,” you mumble, and you hear a small chuckle from him. And then your muscles begin to grow heavy, eyelids fluttering shut under the weight of exhaustion, and your skin feeling far too cold for your burning insides, “Gojo, I’m not—“
And you slip into darkness.
You can feel the world around you move, the sounds of wind brushing against your skin, and the flicker of lights in your eyes. Your lips part, a desert inside your mouth with no oasis in sight, “where—“
A voice quietly shushes you, fingers raking through your hair gently, lulling you back to sleep. Was it your grandfather? No, he never coddled you like this. Not even he had his yakuza to look after. You were expected to care for yourself —- you couldn’t show weakness.
Not as an heir — even if you were just a kid.
And when you do wake for a moment, it’s with some prodding, a voice whispering for you to open your mouth at the press of a medicine cap to your lips, and your eyes flutter open to catch a glimpse of blue eyes — so you do, swallowing it with water.
You fall into the arms of sleep again, only waking to your head slightly aching, and a distinct void in your stomach. You reach around blindly for your phone, and find that it’s still Sunday, nearly the evening. Your eyes adjust as your gaze spots the last glimmers of the sunset in the window.
How long have you slept? Like four hours? You sighed, slumping back into bed, as you stretched. Your fingers pressed to your forehead, still a slight fever, but it was definitely lower. Maybe you could sleep for a bit longer, and you turn on your side only to find a familiar, not-so familiar sight. Your lips can’t help but curl a little. Again there is someone in your room, but instead as your eyes flutter open you see that Satoru has dozed off.
You hold back a chuckle, as you slowly get up, drawing a little closer. His head was against the wall, slightly tilted, soft breaths leaving his lips, arms crossed. He had a prescription medicine next to him along with a water bottle. Your fingers reach for the medicine, and you glance it over — seeing that it was prescribed earlier today for you.
Your brows knit together, when did you—and then it comes back to you slowly — the lights, the sound of wind and cars — he drove you to a hospital. And his shoulder starts to slip
And then you reach for him, trying to make sure he didn’t hurt himself.
That’s when he grabs you — his eyes fly open, as he grabs you by the wrist, pulling you close, his hard topaz gaze cuts through you, until it slowly fills with recognition. His fingers digging into your wrist loosen ever so slightly, as he blinks.
“Sorry about that, sweetheart,” but his fingers don’t leave your wrist, “are you feeling better?”
“I am,” you admit, as his other hand reaches up to brush against your forehead and then neck, sending hest crawling up your skin for a different reason.
“Looks like the medicine worked,” he sighs, leaning back, “guess I can scratch beating up that doctor off my list,” and you furrow your brow, “it was a joke, Princess,”
“Why did you take me?” You asked and he tilted his head, “I mean you could have had me looked at here, so why did you—“
“As much as my father pays for these services, they don’t work weekends, usually — we do have an on-call physician, but,” he shrugs, as his thumb brushed back and forth against your wrist, right where your pulse was, “I didn’t want to wait,”
And your eyes slide to the bandages around his head, “but you couldn’t get that checked out?”
“Worried about me? I’m touched, Princess,” and your fingers reach for the bandages and brush against his locks, “hey, you—“
“It’s coming loose,” you lean over and slide your hands until you find where it’s coming undone and tie it tighter, fingers brushing against his soft locks — noting the undercut you hadn’t noticed before, “there,”
“Thank you,” he murmurs, as your eyes meet his and your breath catches, your face an inch or two from his. And he looks different in the dark of the room, illuminated by the last vestiges of sun that were quickly fading into the night — softer.
“Why did you take care of me?” And he blinks a moment, taken aback and he tilts his head, “someone else could have—“
“I wanted to,” he cuts you off gently, “why would I let someone else do it when I could? It was the least I could do,” and it was your turn to tilt your head, as he adds in a whisper, “I let you get hurt. I should have sent you home,”
“If you had tried, I would have stayed anyway,” and he chuckles.
“I know,” he murmurs, “and I know what it’s like to tough through things as if you’re invincible — as if nothing can touch you — and it’s only a matter of time until it does,” and your fingers brush against the bandages on his head, as you dare closer, less than a breath away.
“Maybe I should make you take your own advice,” you whisper, and his lips quirk upwards in a smirk.
“I’d love to see you try, Princess,” he adds with a grin, “you know I’d love to submit to you anyti—“
And you swallow the rest of his sentence with your lips, a chaste brush that leaves your entire body burning for more — a spark to kindling that you told yourself you wouldn’t start. But, your lips part his to see his soft gaze meeting your own, before finding your lips again, how could you not?
“I’m going to get you sick,” you manage between kisses, lips meeting and parting, as he chuckles against you, a vibration sending a shiver that definitely wasn’t from your fever.
“You’re worth it, Princess,” but he kisses you one last time, noses brushing, before your stomach rumbles loudly in the relative silence of both of your soft pants. You flush, and he can’t hold back his laugh, as you smack his shoulder.
“Shut up, I haven’t eaten since breakfast, thanks to someone,” and he’s still laughing as you try to smack him again, but he catches you by the wrist.
“Don’t forget, I really like it when you punish me,” his lips press to your wrist, your breath catching for a moment before you hit him again on the chest regardless. And he laughs, leaning on his hand, “oh what will I do with you, sweetheart?”
You scowl at him, rolling your eyes, “You can start by getting me dinner,” you grumble, and he repents, getting to his feet, “Satoru?” And he pauses, eyes flickering back, “thank you,” you manage, biting your lip all the whole, unable to meet his eyes or see the smile on his lips.
“Anytime, Princess.”
~~~~
You hadn’t seen Suguru or Satoru all week.
Once a sought after rarity l, but now a foreboding concern. Satoru had been away on business — you didn’t care to know what, but you knew he’d come back only more clingy than ever. You chewed on your lip — especially after the kiss.
Fuck. You kissed Satoru, you buried your face in your hands, what the fuck were you doing? Could you use the excuse that your fever had rendered you momentarily insane? No, Satoru would only crack a joke saying that he’s crazy for you too.
What was your plan? You were only trying to bide your time for a year — not become further entangled
You lay back on your bed, as you scroll through your phone — but Suguru was a different story. You heard from Satoru that he had returned. Yet now there was some random yakuza checking in each hour — and even worse, keeping you confined to the compound.
And a small part of you did worry for them as you tossed your phone aside — those fools may have death wishes but that didn’t mean you wished the same.
You leave your room, sighing as you explore the compound. You had done your fair share of exploring, but you had never wandered into Suguru or Satoru’s quarters. You had been told by each of them where their rooms were, only for you to glare at them for providing you the implication. But now…maybe it was useful.
You walked through the halls — seemed like most people were away at the moment. When Satoru had captured those people who had attacked you both, there was information learned about who was targeting you and of where that girl who was taken could possibly be. But it’s not like you were able to find that information out — unless you went looking yourself.
Satoru and Suguru’s rooms were close to each other’s — but Satoru’s room was locked, as you tugged at the door to no avail. You glared at the handle as if it was the white haired idiot itself, before turning to Suguru’s door.
You pressed your ear to the door, it was silent, not a single noise inside. You pull at the door and it opens. You step inside — the room is neat, a desk in the corner, along with a bed on the opposite side, but not much else. There were a few other things — a dresser with a few containers tucked beside it and a small bookcase against the wall near the desk lined with books on each shelf.
It wasn’t what you expected — though you didn’t know what to expect. You stepped into the room, glancing around, as you approached the desk first. You rifle through the papers, finding nothing relevant — only papers from class and a few scattered notes that had nothing but addresses and initials scribbled.
And then the door opens, you freeze, before you slowly turn to see Suguru, his clothes tattered, blood dripping from his arms and soaked through his white button up. His gaze is dark and heavy, until he finds your eyes, his brow wrinkled.
“What are you doing?” no ‘sweetheart’ or ‘Princess’ — just a question.
“I was looking—“ but you bite your lips, as you watch his shoulders slump, “what happened—“
And he draws closer, as you slowly take steps back, until he’s looming over you, his arm pressed above you, “Princess, you shouldn’t get involved in these things, unless you want to end up like this,” and the smell of death rolls off of him, the heaviness of his gaze could drag you down to the depths of hell — but you didn’t care.
“Sit down,” and he blinks, before you’re pressing him onto the bed, “I’m going to get a first aid kit and some bandages,”
“Sweetheart—“ but you’re already out of the room, returning with a first aid kit and bandages, “where did you—“
“Well after that first time Satoru and I got jumped by those people, I figured it would be good to stock up on things,” you pull out scissors and tape, and you dampen a washcloth you had stored in the kit with a water bottle you had grabbed. “Take off your shirt,” he hesitates, “getting shy?”
Suguru’s lips curl, before he sighs, unbuttoning his shirt, “You know I rather you hurt me than take care of me,” and you scoff, as you busy yourself with preparing the materials to tend to him.
“Well it looks like someone else already did that for you,” and your eyes meet with his bare chest, the red and black ink of his tattoos encroached onto his shoulders, but more than that — bruises bloomed on different parts of his body, scars from old wounds of various ages littered his skin, and dried and fresh scarlet clung to his skin from fresh cuts.
You take the washcloth, slowly starting to run it over his body, the white cloth marred with his blood, he doesn’t flinch even as it cleans his cuts or wounds.
“Why are you doing this?” And your eyes meet his, his amethyst eyes cut through you.
“Because you’re hurt,”
“Just because I’m hurt doesn’t mean you have to help,” you sigh, as you urge him to turn so you can clean his back next, the sight of his tattoo on his back unsurprising now as you continue to clean it.
“Doesn’t mean you don’t have to either,” he gives a soft chuckle, “what’s your goal here sweetheart?” You urge him to turn again, as you begin to clean the blood from his arms.
“Do I need to have a goal?” And he turns to face you, leaning even closer, as his black locks fall in his eyes.
“Everyone has one — didn’t you have one for coming in here?” And your hesitation is all the answers he needs, “curious about what’s going on with those people after you, huh?”
There wasn’t any use lying now, “Wouldn’t you be?”
“I would be, but I wouldn’t get caught, now would I?” and you scoff, as his lips curl, “we have been tracking the group that we suspect has the heiress, and we have been interrogating the people that you and Satoru secured,” ‘secured’ — more like nearly murdered by the way Satoru acted.
“And where were you?”
He sighed, “Dealing with some loose ends — and some other business that my father had me deal with,” and he adds, “I had to make sure a message got out — so no one would ever attack you like that again,”
And why does your heart squeeze at the thought, “Why are you so willing to tell me?” And your hands begin to clean and wipe his palms. And you set the washcloth down, beginning to bandage some of the larger cuts and wounds, and his fingers intertwined with yours, as you glance up.
“Because you deserve the truth,” he shrugs, “and even if I lie, you’ll figure it out, so why not tell you to begin with?” And he leans even closer, fingers skimming your cheek, “plus I don’t keep secrets from my future wife,”
“I’m not marrying you,” but you don’t pull away, as he’s even closer now.
“Well, you said never before — and I’ve worn you down to a ‘not’ — it’s only a matter of time,” and his words make you want you to pull away, to scoff at his words and leave, but you don’t.
Why can’t you?
“And I thought Satoru was the one full of himself—“ and his lips find yours, his kiss was more insistent, his fingers find your jaw, featherlight before it finds purchase on the back of your neck. You could taste the faint taste of blood, lingering on his lips,
“And you also thought Satoru was a good kisser,” he smirks, as his lips ghost down your jaw, nose brushing against your cheek, as you pause — how did he— “well now you know what a good kisser is actually like,”
Your eyebrows knit together, “Geto—”
“Suguru,” he corrects you, he tilts his head, his thumb cupping your chin, and your lips find the other’s, his forehead pressed to yours. Then his phone rings, and the moment’s broken. He pulls away just as fast, as he turns to answer his phone, “Hello?” he listens, a man’s voice on the other end, “I understand, okay.” and the call ends, as he offers a smile to you, “I have to deal with some business, but I’ll be back later. And then it looks like I’ll be your escort while Satoru is away.”
“What business—” but he’s brushing past you, going to his wardrobe to grab a fresh shirt, buttoning it swiftly, before pulling on another jacket, as he turns to glance at you over his shoulder.
“You know better than to ask me that,”
“But you said you would be honest,” and he shrugs his shoulders, a smirk on his lips, as he heads out of the room.
“I didn’t say when.”
~~~~
“We have to tell her,” Satoru stood, hands in his pockets, leaning against the wall of the compound. Suguru clicks his lighter again, flicking it on and off — he had quit a few months ago when you had told him that you hated the smell. And he didn’t miss it, but he still carried the lighter — old habits die hard, “the pictures we got — they are getting better at tracking her without us noticing. And these other fires we’re being sent out to deal with — it’s leaving us with less time to protect her,”
“Do you have to?” Suguru asked, flicking his lighter closer, the silver outside glinting in the low light of the moon, “isn’t it safer for her to stay in the dark for now?”
“Staying in the dark doesn’t mean she won’t put herself in danger one way or another without us knowing,” Satoru shrugs, “she said even if I had sent her home that day that those men were after her, she would have came after me,”
Suguru gives a terse chuckle, “I don’t doubt that she would,” he sighs, gaze towards the inky darkness of the sky, dotted with faint stars that he couldn’t see but knew were there — just as these threats were, “if she found out that her grandfather was threatened too? There’s no way she would wait,”
“So what do we do?” Satoru scratched the back of his head, “we could send her back home — she might be safer there than here,”
“Her grandfather told us—“
“I know, but what choice do we have, Suguru?” he sighs, and Suguru can’t help but quirk his lips.
“You know if we do this, we may have to fight her grandfather to stay engaged with her,” And Satoru smiles, shrugging.
“I know, but we can handle it, can’t we?” Satoru leans back, “we’ll just have to fight him on it. Why? Are you afraid?”
Suguru gives a short chuckle, “Since when have you known me to be afraid of anything?” And he turns his gaze towards the door, “so when should we tell her?”
But they don’t notice that you’re pressed against the door, your fists clenched. And they were right about one thing — you wouldn’t wait.
~~~~
CRACK!
Fuck, your eyes burned as you tried to open them, the sharp pain in the back of your head radiating all over, as your eyelids refused to open. What happened? You tried to hold your head, only to have your wrists strain against something rough — rope? The fibers dig into your wrists as you try to stand, only to find them bound to something else.
“Finally awake?” it was a woman’s voice — and your eyes still can’t quite open — fuck, this wasn’t part of your plan, “take your time, they said they wanted you in pristine condition so I can’t have you falling apart on me later on,” she scoffs, her footsteps receding away, and you could hear the quiet murmurs of other voices — men, by the baritone.
Your eyes burned as you adjusted to opening them, still fighting the urge to flutter them shut under the pain. The dim light swung overhead, a warehouse from the bare floors and even barer walls and ceilings overhead, barely illuminated in the flickering exposed lightbulbs hanging over the middle of the room.
“Where am I?” You choked out, voice wavering in a way that made you want to grit your teeth and chide yourself for the fear that seeped into your words.
The quiet click of heels came closer, “Don’t recognize me? Well I suppose you never did see my face in person,” and you knit your brows together as she stepped closer, leaning in far too near for your comfort, “I should thank you for your efforts in trying to find out what happened to me. It made it far easier to kidnap you,”
Her hazel eyes were even more startling in person.
“The Akawaza heiress,” you stare at her — her hair had grown a little past her shoulders now, ends slightly curling at them, “I thought—“
“I was missing? I was,” her lips curled, running her sharp lacquered nails through her black locks, “but it was my choice,” the screech of chair legs scraping against the floor makes you flinch ever so slightly, as she sits in front of you, her legs crossed, “I’m being rude — how is your grandfather?”
“Fuck off,” you spit, and she clicks her tongue.
“And here I thought you had manners, but I suppose the city’s changed you, little princess?” she hums, leaning back, wood of the chair creaking as she did, “or maybe your boyfriends did,” you say nothing, scoffing, as she sighs, “or knowing your grandfather, you probably didn’t have any to begin with,”
Rage fills your veins, lava bursting from them as the venom leaves your lips, “Don’t talk about my grandfather like that—”
“Why shouldn’t I? You never cared for the yakuza before, right? Is your grandfather not included in that equation? Or maybe it was because he kept what he did behind closed doors, and never bothered to tell you the truth,” and you’re not fast enough to stop your brow from furrowing, and she latches onto it, “Oh he didn’t tell you, did he?”
“You really love the sound of your own voice, don’t you?” you murmur, and she laughs at your remark, her nails clicking against the forearm of the chair — lacquer on wood that began to grate on your nerves, “can you get to the point of all this shit? Why the fuck am I here?”
“Because your grandfather is picking and choosing who he favors — and so I decided to take his heart, and I’ll only give her back if he gives me what I want — ” and then you see the way her lips curl and her jaw is cut, and it occurs to you.
Your grandfather had said he was a heartbreaker.
“You’re his granddaughter,” and she smirks, her nails falling still.
“Do you see the family resemblance?” she leans against her hand, elbow against the arm of her chair, “it would be nice to meet you — if I didn’t have to possibly kill you,”
“So you want to be the heiress? I never wanted to be one in the first place—”
“Do you think that matters?” she scoffs, “what matters is the choice your grandfather makes — and he’s chosen you — with no regard for the other children he has had,” her gaze falls downward, “do you know what it is like to watch your mother vye for the approval of someone who never truly cared for her in the first place?”
Your gaze falls downward, “I don’t know,” you admit, “but is all this worth this? What do you think he will even do for me?”
“He’ll meet my demands, and each hour he doesn’t, he’ll get another finger of yours,” she pulls a knife out, the blade glinting in the dim light, as she rises to her feet, your body straining back as she draws close to you, running the flat of the blade down your cheek, “should I start with your left hand or right?” she pulls the blade back, and you smile, “what—”
And you lean your head back and smash your head against her own. The crack of your skulls colliding rung in your ears, along with the knife clattering to the ground, as you felt warm droplets ran down your face, and she stumbles back, clutching at her forehead, scarlet staining her face and fingers, “It’s funny you think that I came to you without a plan — how do you think I found you?”
“It wasn’t on her own,” and a hand on her shoulder, before she’s pinned to the floor. Satoru’s eyes slide to you, a smile on his lips, as she’s struggling, trying to look for her men, “looking for your goons? Suguru has taken care of them by now, unless he needs my help,”
“Akari isn’t the only one who likes to hear herself talk,” Suguru runs his fingers through his hair, “Satoru, you haven’t even untied her,” his footsteps echoing as he approaches you, bending down to pick up Akari’s knife.
“A little busy at the moment, Suguru,” Gojo has Akari pinned with one hand, “unless you’d like her to get away,” and Suguru shrugs, as he slips the knife under your restraints and cuts them off, “are you doing alright, sweetheart?”
“I’m fine, just my head’s aching,” and Suguru pulls a cloth from his pocket, wiping the blood from your face, your eyes closing and nose wrinkling as he does, “did you call my grandfather?”
“Yeah, I don’t have a death wish,” Satoru replies as he hauls Akari up and hands her off to his associate to take her.
You get to shaky feet, “Hold on,” you walk over, grabbing Akari by the front of her blouse, silk wrinkling under your grasp, “fuck with me or my family again, and I won’t be so lenient,” you shove her off, and then you add, “but I’ll talk to my grandfather about some sort of possible arrangement for your mother,”
And then you wave the yakuza off and they take her away — assuredly to Kyoto to be dealt with by her grandfather.
“Are you really going to talk to your grandfather about her?” Suguru asks, raising an eyebrow.
“It’s the least he could do since he caused me to be targeted,” you grumble, rubbing your wrists, as Satoru takes his suit coat off and places it around your shoulders, before a smirk pulls at your lips.
Suguru tilts his head, smiling, “Well, how would he feel if he knew you got kidnapped on purpose?” And you shrug.
“He doesn’t need to know that.”
~~~
“I’m surprised you guys agreed to my plan,” you hiss as Satoru takes a damp cloth to clean the dried blood from your face, while Suguru is knelt, bandaging your ankles — their rough and bruised hands somehow still gentle, “I thought you would never let me wander into danger,”
“Well, we knew we had to do something when we realized you were listening to us, didn’t we, Princess?” Satoru snorted, and you could hear the smile gracing his features — even with your eyes shut — “and this was the best way to ensure you weren’t hurt,”
“Relatively,” Suguru adds, as he finishes bandaging one ankle, “did she do anything else to you?”
And Satoru’s hand pauses as they both wait for your answer, and you shake your head, “No,” and Satoru pulls the washcloth away, your eyes fluttering open to meet two skeptical gazes, “really, I’m fine,” your lips curl after the two of them look away, Satoru turning to grab a bag of ice for your forehead, while Suguru busied himself with bandaging your other ankle, “is this threat the reason my grandfather sent me to Tokyo?”
The timing had lined up — Akari had started the threats not a few months before — after she had reached legal age, the perfect age to contend for the position of successor to her grandfather. And by sending you here, your grandfather thought he was putting you out of immediate danger — but he didn’t know Akari would make her way to Tokyo.
“More or less,” Satoru sighed, as you flinched when he pressed the ice pack to your head, the condensation from the bag already clinging and dripping down your face, “the geezer wanted to find the source of the threats against you—and by sending you here, to your potential fiancés—“
“I would be safe protected twofold by two of the biggest families—“ and you blink, pulling the ice pack away from your face, “the engagements — that’s why they were leaked — it was to protect me,” you mumble, “so that means—“
“You can go home if you want, Princess,” Suguru says, looking up at you, expression as inscrutable as it always was, “the engagements were only pretense,”
“You both knew?” And Satoru sighs, scratching the back of his head, and why does it feel as if his nails are carving out a piece of your heart.
“The old coot swore us to secrecy, we didn’t have—“
“But, everything, the two of you…the engagement—it’s over,” you say slowly, gaze falling downward. You should be happy, relieved, thrilled — you could go home, what you wanted to do from the start. You could get your own apartment or transfer to a different university—and leave this behind, a bad dream washed away by the events of a new day. So why?
Why did it hurt?
“Don’t tell me you’ll actually miss us, sweetheart?” Satoru teased, a force more than anything — bittersweet worded coated in a sugary sarcasm, “because I very well may propose here and now,”
You almost scoff, but Suguru beats you to it.
“A proposal now? Seems like finishing early isn’t what you just do in bed, Satoru,” Suguru scoffs, as Satoru shoots a glare over his sunglasses, “she’s only eager to get home now isn’t she? "If she isn’t so eager,” he adds, “then she would stop the one she wants from leaving her room, wouldn’t she?”
And Suguru is slowly getting to his feet, while Satoru also turns to leave — and you don’t think—but you were sure that you truly hadn’t thought a single sane thought since you had arrived in Tokyo—
You grab at the fabric of both their shirts, fingers clutching at it, as your lips curled when they glanced back at you.
“Who said either of you could leave?”
~~~
“You’re going to have to use your words,” you murmured, fingers ghosting Satoru’s jaw, a delightful shiver parting his lips as you smiled at him, sat spread at the edge of your bed, “what do you want?” You stepped closer, between his legs, daring even closer.
“Sweetheart, you know what I—“ and a low groan leaves his throat as your fingers slide to the nape of his neck to tug at his snowy locks, “please—“
“I know you love this,” you murmur, leaning to press a kiss to his throat, smiling against his skin, “you said you wanted me to hurt you, so it looks like you’re getting your wish,” your eyes slide to the other, sat in a chair, “I know you like to watch, Suguru, so you must be enjoying yourself,” and you’re further unbuttoning Satoru’s shirt all the same — crisp white button up definitely creased and wrinkled as it fell open, tugged out from his slacks.
Suguru’s fingers flexed against the grain of the wood of the armrests, his muscles taut, his lips a tight line that only matched the fabric of his slacks straining against his erection. The corner of his mouth twitches, and you smirk.
“I didn’t hear an answer, Suguru,” and you’re placing another kiss on Satoru’s neck, a whine leaving his throat, while your eyes find Suguru’s amethyst gaze darkened to nearly black, his knuckles white against the wood, as you lean down to lick a stripe up Satoru’s neck, who bites his bottom lip.
“I’d enjoy it even more if I could touch you, or me,” Suguru adds through gritted teeth, “Princess—“
And you click your tongue, “You had such patience when you were watching me sleep — so where’s that patience now?” Your fingers graze Satoru’s erection through his slacks, and his head is falling back, as Suguru shifts in his seat, not so subtly adjusting himself.
You undo Satoru’s belt, unbuckling it with ease, as his cock slaps against his stomach, and you didn’t know it was possible for a dick to be pretty, but Satoru’s was — a deep flush settled over it, pearly beads of precum dripping from the ruby tip. And a distinct heat begins to throb between your thighs.
“You can touch yourself,” you tell Suguru, his legs twitching to get up, “but you can’t cum until I tell you can,” you run a finger up Satoru’s cock, teasing the weeping tip, a groan leaving the snowy haired man’s lips, “strip, Suguru,”
And he does, you hear the click of his belt, the sound of fabric rustling, as your fingers tease the slit of Satoru’s cock, gathering precum on your fingers, drawing a grunt from his lips. You can hear the distinct sound of Suguru spitting in his palm, his hand beginning to work at his own cock.
“Both s’good for me,” you murmur, as you stroke Satoru’s cock in earnest, the quiet moans from both their mouths sending a ribbon of need to your already dripping cunt, “can’t wait to fuck you both, make you my toys,” and you’re pressing a kiss to Satoru’s tip, his pretty, pink lips parting, as his head rolls back again, “but you’d both like that wouldn’t you? Maybe I shouldn’t let either of you cum, make you beg me all night,” as your tongue traces his lovely vein up the side of his cock, “what do you think, Toru?” And your mouth finally closes around his dick, sucking hard that draws a hiss from his lips, fingers fisted in the sheets.
And Suguru isn’t doing much better, the sounds of his hand squelching and the moans leaving his lips growing louder and louder.
“Please, Princess, I’m close, I can’t—“ and you click your tongue, a pout on your lips, as you pull away your touch, “baby, I—“
“Can’t let either of you cum so fast,” your eyes slide to Suguru, his cheeks flushed a lovely pink that reaches even his ears, as his hand slows, his cock twitching in his fingers, “gotta make you earn it. It’s only right after all the shit you put me through right?”
It’s a cycle, a cycle of you bringing them both to the edge of orgasm, only to tell them to stop. Their sweat slicked brows wrinkled, as you worked them up once again and again and again — you had lost track of how many times.
“Please, please, sweetheart,” and you knew you could get Satoru to beg, but you didn’t think it would be this easy, and you let his dick brush against your throat, as you let him fuck your throat, hips jerking, “fuuuuck, I need to—”
And you’re pulling your lips from his cock with a pop, glancing at Suguru whose black locks are beginning to come loose from their neat bun, more of a mess now than he had been fighting yakuza earlier, and all because of you.
“Suguru? Wanna cum?” you ask, smirking as his gaze raises to meet yours, a desperate look that tells you everything you need to know, “be a good boy and tell me,”
He swallows, adam’s apple bobbing, as pre drips down his knuckles, “fuck, Princess,” he’s shaking his head, “ I want to cum, please — I need—”
And your lips curl, “cum for me,” you murmur before you’re wrapping your lips around Satoru again, his tip brushing against your throat, sucking hard, his fingers finding purchase in your hair. And he’s cumming hard, his hot release slides down your throat, nails digging into your scalp, nearly never ending — even as you pull away, his cum paints your face and lips, and drips onto your clothes. His cerulean eyes glazed as he looked down at you between his legs, a string of spit and cum connecting you to his cock.
And Suguru was no better. He had cum hard all over his hand and the floor, his cock still somehow half hard, his body slumped back in the chair, as his chest heaved. His hair tie had long fallen away, his long black locks brushing against his shoulders.
You lick your lips clean of Satoru’s cum, wiping the rest away with the back of your hand, “Made such a mess,” you tsk, as you get to your feet, slipping off your shorts and shirt, before leaning down to kiss Satoru, and he’s still sensitive by the way he jolts against your touch, before melting into it, his tongue parted your lips with ease. And fuck, you hoped he couldn’t see how wet you were — nearly dripping down your thighs at this point.
And you’re pulling away, your thumb dragging down his lips, as his teeth try to catch the finger between them, but you’re too quick. You turn, a smile on your lips, you make your way over to Suguru.
You’re wiping up the mess on the floor with your shirt before kneeling, “made such a mess, Sugu,” and he’s staring at you through half lidded eyes, his fingers brushing your cheek, “did I say you could touch me?”
“You never said I couldn’t,” he murmurs, and god, his voice is far gone, raw and nearly guttural, as his fingers found purchase in your hair, “and I think I earned it after your little performance—“ and he hisses when you lean in, tip of your tongue teasing his slit and licking the dripping cum off his half hard cock, “fuck—“
“Not yet,” you smiled, as you started to lick his cock clean of his cum, “but maybe if you’re good,” he grunts as you sink is cock into your mouth, tongue swirling around his length, licking and sucking — and fuck, he was already twitching in your mouth.
And then he’s easing you off his dick with a tug of your hair, and you’re glancing up at him, a question on the tip of your tongue, but he’s swallowing it with a kiss, as his hands slip down your body to haul you nearly into his lap. Calloused palms find their way to your hips, squeezing lightly, as he pulls away, cupping your chin with his thumb.
“Suguru—” and you yelp as he picks you up with ease, placing you in Satoru’s lap whose hands wind their way around your waist, his fingers already beginning to tease your hardened buds through your bra, a gasp leaving your lips, as Suguru placed his on your neck with a smirk as he murmurs:
“Let me show you how good we can be, sweetheart.”
~~~~
“Tell us what you want, princess,” Satoru murmured in your ear, his warm breath doing nothing to help the needy heat between your thighs, the one that Suguru was knelt between, his large palms spreading you before him, “is she as wet as I think, Suguru?”
And Suguru catches your gaze, a wicked smile on his lips as he replies, “Wetter, she’s a mess, aren’t you?” you bite your lip to stop a whimper from leaving your lips as his fingers graze the growing wet patch on your panties. And your squirming only makes Satoru grunt, his erection pressed against you, the friction doing little to help either of you.
“Fuckers,” and Satoru clicks his tongue, a smile on his lips as he turns your head.
“Think I have a better use for that mouth of yours, sweetheart,” and his lips find yours, right as Suguru toys with the elastic of your panties, snapping it against your skin, Satoru swallows the small noise that escapes your lips, his tongue slipping into your mouth as it does.
And god, you already can’t even think straight.
Satoru’s fingers are pushing up your bra, teasing your nipples, as Suguru pressing a kiss to your dripping cunt through your soaked underwear.
“So pretty,” Suguru murmurs, and Satoru’s lips part from yours, gaze darkening as he drags his thumb down your kiss ruined lips, and he tugs your drenched panties down, “and your cunt is even prettier, isn’t it princess?”
And you were — your gorgeous pussy was glossy with your pre, dripping all over his fingers when he parts your messy folds, “Bet she’s even tighter, isn’t she?” Satoru murmurs, as his dick twitches against your ass, “
You whine as his words warm your aching pussy, your eyes flickering downwards, as Suguru’s lips graze your inner thigh, and you already know Satoru’s pouting.
“You’re taking your goddamn time, Suguru, when do I get my chance?” He grumbles, nose brushing against your neck, as you can’t help but chuckle.
“You got your turn, and now it’s time for you to watch,” and your giggle turns to a soft gasp when his lips press a kiss to your clit, “and sweetheart, can’t wait to see how you’ll punish me for this later — because I’m not stopping until you beg me to,”
Your lips part with a reply, but he pulls a moan from your lips instead as his tongue drags up the length of your weeping entrance. God, fuck, how did you taste this good? His tongue flicked against your puffy clit, drawing lazy circles, your slick already drenching his chin and lips.
“So fucking good, baby, s’good f’me,” and your fingers are threading their way into his dark locks, pulling him even closer, his lips closing around your clit to suck, “could live in this pretty cunt,” he grunts, the tip of his tongue teasing your entrance.
Your head falls against Satoru’s shoulders, a groan fell from his lips as his cock dragged against your ass, your slick drenching his thighs and cock alike, “can’t wait to sink my cock into you, fuck,” Satoru murmurs, the wet squelch of your cunt rang in his ears, and he could imagine how wet and warm you’d be once he sunk into you, inch by inch.��
And he couldn’t wait — he needed to do something.
Satoru’s fingers found their way down your body, tweaking your nipple before one large palm dragged slowly down your front, until he found your clit right above Suguru’s face.
“Toru,” you gasp, as his fingers pinch your clit and Suguru glares, pulling his lips away for a moment, only to sink a finger back in insteas, drawing a moan from your lips, “Sugu—fuck—“
And it’s too much, one more touch and you’re cumming, body falling back into Satoru, as Suguru fucks you through your orgasm. Your release runs down their fingers, as Satoru lifts his hand a moment to lick his fingers clean.
God, you’re too pretty for your own good, Satoru’s eyes drag over you — your kiss ruined lips, skin shiny from your sweat, and the way your eyes were lost in an endless pool of lust.
“Suguru was right, you’re the sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted,” Satoru grin, gently turning your head, and you’re panting, nose wrinkling ever so slightly at his words, and he tuts, “don’t believe me? Well I can fix that,” and his lips find yours again, letting you taste yourself, swallowing your moans, as Suguru continued to finger fuck you.
Suguru’s finger stretches you open, fluttering, knuckle deep, as your precum drips down his fingers.
“Remember who’s fucking this cunt, sweetheart,” and Suguru is, another finger parting your needy folds, and between Satoru rubbing your clit and Suguru’s fingers curling to find that one spot, drags against your insides, “fuck, how are we going to fit, Satoru? She’s still so tight,” Suguru grunts.
You pull your lips from Satoru’s, a whine leaving your lips, “More, please, I need—“ and a third finger joins the other two — but it’s not Suguru’s.
“Fuck, you’re so fucking soft,” Satoru groans, pressing soft kisses to your skin, only serving to make you keen at their touch, and your walls flutter around their fingers.
“Fuck, we’re trying to fuck her open and she just keeps getting tighter,” Suguru grunts, while Satoru’s lips find your earlobe, sucking, just as he adds another finger, a moan escaping your lips again.
Suguru’s fingers fuck at a steady pace, fucking deeper and deeper, while Satoru’s are faster, pistoning in and out while dragging against your walls — and it’s not long until they are working you up to a second orgasm, it’s too fucking good — and they both find that spot in you that has you seeing stars.
“I’m g’nna—” and Satoru finds your lips in a sloppy kiss, saliva slipping from the corner of your mouth. And you cum, even harder, your swollen folds clamping down on their fingers as they continue to fuck you unendingly through your orgasm. Your lips pull away, only to moan their names, again and again, until they finally slow down.
“Good girl,” Suguru murmurs, pressing sweet kisses to your thighs, while you come down from your high, walls flutter around nothing at the praise, while Satoru nips at your neck right above your racing pulse. And your eyes find Suguru lazily palming his weeping erection, as you lift your bare foot to rub against it, making him hiss, while you rub against Satoru teasingly.
“Don’t forget who’s in control,” you kiss Satoru again, before biting his bottom lip, and he’s melting into your touch, “and, you were good,” your foot rubs against Suguru’s cock again, drawing another pretty groan from his lips, “but now it’s time to be obedient.”
And they are — as you have Satoru sit back against the pillow lined headboard, because if it was anything you knew now — Satoru loved to be controlled, while Suguru liked the illusion of control, even if he didn’t have even a bit of it. So you have Suguru kneeling behind you, as you climb into Satoru’s lap, a small groan leaving his lips as your cunt grazes his hard cock.
“Such a good boy, aren’t you, Toru?” your fingers run through his hair — and god, his undercut was so fucking hot, as your fingers found his cock, letting the tip tease your soaked folds, as you line yourself up, “tell me what you want,”
“Fuck, princess, y’know what I want,” and a whine leaves his throat when you let his tip sink into you, only to pull out.
“Come on, nothing else to say? You always love running that mouth, don’t you? You wanted this, wanted me to ruin you, didn’t you? Well here we are,” you hum, as you press a teasing kiss to the corner of his mouth, “beg me,”
And his dick twitches, painfully hard, and the words spill from his lips, “Please, please, sweetheart, use me, use my cock as a toy, want you to fuck me so bad, make me yours—” and you’re sinking onto his cock, his length parting your folds, as moans fall from both of your lips. And he bottoms out, your hips meeting his as you do, and you can feel every vein, every ridge, every inch notched inside your walls.
“Toru, fuck, s’good, s’big,” it feels too fucking good, and he’s so long — god, he was brushing against places you never even dreamed of reaching. And your pussy clenched at the thought of how deep he would go when he would start thrusting.
“Sure you have space for me, Princess?” Suguru leans back over to press kisses all over your face, before finding your lips in a heated kiss, “might be too tight of a fit,” his nose brushing against your cheek.
“I’ll make you fit,” you murmur against his lips, your hands against Satoru’s chest, as you shift to cup his chin, “get behind me, Sugu,”
Suguru smirks, slipping behind you, pressing himself against your back, dragging his cock teasingly against you, “So needy — you’re worse than Satoru,” and Satoru makes a noise of protest, but your walls flutter, making his back arch, “want me inside you, sweetheart?” And his tip teases at your entrance, brushing against Satoru’s cock, causing all three of you to moan, “tell me how much you want us to fuck you, how much you want both of us inside you,”
“Fucker, I swear to god,” you turn your head, your glare undercut by the desperation on your face, “just fuck me—
And Suguru sinks into you, your head falling back against him, as both of their cocks stretch your cunt out. You were so fucking full. And the way your walls clenched around them was nearly enough to make them cum. Their groans come in unison.
“Fuck, Princess, you don’t have to break our dicks off — we’ll fuck you again,” Suguru grunts, his rough palms sliding to your hips to squeeze them.
“S’good, sweetheart, so fucking right for us,” and you can’t think straight with the two of them inside of you, and you’re moaning.
“Please, move—“ and they oblige, beginning to fuck you. You moved against Satoru, riding him as best you can, while Suguru fucked you from behind, his balls slapping against your ass.
Suguru drives into you at a steady pace, causing you to rock against Satoru, your hips pressed against his, as they both drive deeper and deeper into your wet cunt.
“S’good, so pretty,” Suguru presses sweet kisses to your neck, while Satoru’s eyes flutter open to meet yours, “I’m close, Satoru—“
“Me too,” Satoru manages, and his hips begin to meet your thrusts, “you gonna cum for us princess?” And he finds your gaze, the fucked out expression enough to nearly make him cum right there.
A whine leaves your lips, as they continue to fuck you, and you know you’re so close. And then they find that spot in you again, and you’re falling apart, lips parted in a moan, both their names on your lips. You clamp down on them, toes curling as you cum, and neither of them can last. Their hips stutter as they give sloppy thrusts, until they both cum,
They groan your name as they spurt their thick cum inside, notching themselves as deep as they could, continuing to fuck their cum inside you with messy thrusts.
A whimper escapes your lips between pants, as your arms and legs shake from your position, utterly fucked out. You three stay like that for a moment, both of their sweet nothings they murmur to you falling on deaf ears.
And then finally they are shifting you onto the bed, pressing soft kisses to your face and neck, as your eyes flutter shut. There’s shifting on the bed, as one of them leaves for a moment, and you make a noise, only to be reassured that he’ll be right back.
Your eyes finally flutter open to find Satoru and Suguru cleaning you up with a wet washcloth, and your gaze finds both of their own. Your lips curl at the sight of them, their gentle gaze enough to make your heart ache.
“Come back,” you whine, and they both chuckle, as they begin to finish drying you off, before tossing the washcloth into the wastebasket, and crawling back beside you. They help you pull a shirt on, before settling in.
“So needy,” Satoru murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead, even as he buries his face in your chest, his warm breath tickling you as you run your fingers softly through his white locks. And Suguru presses himself to your back, pressing a soft kiss to your neck, his arm around your waist, and yours resting on top of his.
“What will we do with her?” Suguru mutters, and you can hear the smirk in his tone.
“Shut up,” you mumble, your eyes beginning to feel heavy, as you give into the warmth that enveloped you from their bodies, as it lulled you to sleep. And your lips curled into a smile, a smile that had you wondering right before you slipped into sleep—
When was it that you fell for them?
~~~~
You couldn’t do this. Not to them.
That’s what you had decided come morning — waking up between entangled limbs and soft breaths against your skin — how could you? You felt Satoru shift closer to you, as you leaned into his touch, running your fingers through Suguru’s black locks. You were addicted to their touch only after one night, and now you had to spend the rest of your life without it.
It was the only way.
This whole thing was ridiculous to begin with — you never cared to be involved in the yakuza to begin with. You wanted a normal life — or at least as normal of a life you could have with who your grandfather was. You had never expected to end up wrapped up in all of this — and in both of them.
But you didn’t know if you could choose between them — and you knew, you had to. It wasn’t fair to either of them — not when they had asked you to choose last night and they had indulged you in both of them. And now, you didn’t want to let either of them go.
So you had to let both of them go.
You shifted slowly to sit up, Your fingers traced Satoru’s cheek lightly, as you toyed with a strand of Suguru’s hair. They both still stayed fast asleep, quiet snores filling the silence of the early morning, deep in the embrace of sleep after the events of last night and the last few weeks. You didn’t want to be someone like your grandfather — you didn’t know what you wanted and that was enough of an answer wasn’t it?
The two shift in their sleep, and your body grows heavy, your back still aching from last night, as you lie back down beside them, running your fingers over both of their arms.
Even if you had your answer, you didn’t have to face it for another few hours. And their bodies shifted, Satoru burying his face in the nape of your neck, while you rested against Suguru’s chest. This was enough — enough to last you a lifetime, wasn’t it? Your eyes fluttered shut, sinking slowly back to sleep. You had told your grandfather you’d break their hearts —
—but you didn’t know you would be breaking yours as well.
~~~
“What do you mean she’s gone?” Satoru narrowed his eyes, crossing his arms, as Suguru stepped aside to show the empty room you had left behind — a bare husk with nothing left behind, not even a note.
It had been a day.
When Satoru had woken up beside you, he could have sworn he was still dreaming, even as he grazed your skin gently with the back of his knuckles, he still couldn’t quite believe it. And when he spotted Suguru pressing kisses to your cheek, he knew it was real.
“How long have you been awake?” Satoru raised an eyebrow, “it’s not fair to have your fun while we were asleep,”
And Suguru rolled his eyes, as he rubbed the back of his knuckles gently against her cheek, “I just woke up, and all I did was kiss her, you idiot,”
“Not fair, that means I have to kiss her too,” Satoru murmurs, pressing gentle kisses to your forehead and cheek, and one even to your nose. Your nose wrinkles in your sleep, and Satoru’s lips quirk upwards, “she’s so exhausted from last night still,”
“She is,” Suguru hums, as he tilts his head, “what are we going to do about last night?”
Satoru pauses a moment to consider, “Well, what is there to discuss? She chose us both, didn’t she?” Satoru leaned close to you, to press a kiss to your head.
“She did,” Suguru props himself up with his elbow on his side, “I thought you weren’t one to share,”
And Satoru shrugged — he wasn’t one to share, he wanted what was his to be his alone, but with you — the more people to protect you, the better, “If it’s what makes her happy, I don’t mind,” and he adds, “and I don’t mind if it’s you that I’m sharing with,”
Suguru raises an eyebrow, a chuckle on his lips, “Is that so? Well, good,” as he runs a finger through your hair, “because I feel the same.”
But Satoru supposed you didn’t.
“When did she—“
“My father told me she contacted her grandfather this morning, and let them know she was leaving — and her single request was to send us away on business so we wouldn’t be able to stop her,” and Satoru gives a bitter chuckle.
“So that’s it?” Satoru crosses his arms, “why did she—“ and he cuts himself off, “have you tried to call—“
“I’m blocked, I assume you are too,” Suguru shook his head, a silence settling over the two of them that Satoru chose to break.
“Do we go after her?” And Suguru pauses, his brow wrinkling a moment, before he sighs, shaking his head.
“If she comes back, it has to be her choice,” Suguru slid his hands into his pockets, “otherwise, we’re back to square one,” and he adds, “and I don’t think I can go back after last night.”
Suguru steps away, heading back down the hallway, and Satoru follows.
No, Satoru thinks, sparing one glance at the empty room, before pulling the door shut, neither could he.
~~~
“Why did you come back?” You set another box down, wiping the sweat from your brow, your grandfather simply watching as you brought your things back into your room.
“What a warm welcome,” you scoff, as you head back out to pick up another — the other staff had offered to help, but you had waved them off, lifting another box, your back still aching — and now you were starting to regret it. But you knew if you didn’t do something to distract yourself — your phone taunting you on the top of your desk — you’d do something you’d regret.
And you’d already filled your quota for the next six months at least.
“Don’t get me wrong, kid,” the geezer sighed, as he watched you bring the last of the boxes in, “I’m glad you’re back and the matters are all settled — but,” he tilts his head, “you seem more miserable than before,”
“I’m just tired,” you reply, but his furrowed brow says he’s unconvinced, as you grab a box cutter and begin to open up the boxes, beginning to sort through your things, “and still trying to wrap my head around the fact you lied to me,”
And he sighs, “this isn’t about me right now — it’s about you—“
“How convenient,” you mutter under your breath.
“You’re in love, aren’t you?” And you can’t help but freeze for a moment, until you force yourself to continue unpacking, pulling out some of your clothes from the box, “which one is it?”
The question stabs between your ribs like a well thrust sword between the ribs, finding the center of the problem — along with your heart.
“Gramps—”
“So it’s both of them?” and you whirl on him, your eyes narrowing, and he chuckles, holding up his hand, “I didn’t spy — I just took a guess,” he sighed, as he pulled out your desk chair and took a seat in it, “and it looks like I was right,”
You swallow, your eyes falling to the floor, “I didn’t cheat, if that’s what—”
He laughs, “I know you aren’t like me, little one,” he leans back in the chair, hands folded in his lap, “you aren’t one to lie — because I know there’s more you hate than liars,” and his gaze grows a little sadder, “And I’m sorry I had to become one of them,”
You grit your teeth, “I’m not mad at you — I’m just—” you choose your words carefully — because you’re angry, you were upset — upset that he felt as if he couldn’t trust you, “wondering why you didn’t tell me the truth,”
He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck, “My past isn’t something I’m proud of, and I wanted to deal with it without involving you,” he sighed, “after everything with our family — I didn’t want to give you another reason to distance yourself from me,”
“Lying to me isn’t a better option than that,” he rubs the back of his head, “you have to make it right for Akari and her mother — as well as if you have any other kids—I don’t need to know,” you add, when he opens his mouth, “it isn’t fair to them,” and it would be no fairer to not choose between Satoru and Suguru.
“You’re right,” he raises a brow, “is that the problem? You can’t choose between the two of them, eh?” and your gaze refuses to meet his, “have you talked to them about it?” and your silence serves as an answer, “then I think you should take your own advice and talk to them about it,”
“What will that do?” you murmur, “they still will want me to choose—”
“Do you know that for a fact?” he crosses his arms, “I think you owe it to them and to yourself to talk to them, and to your grandfather who can’t stand to see you this miserable at home,”
“Do you think it will change anything?” and he shrugs.
“Maybe it will or maybe it won’t,” he tilts his head, as he pulls out his phone to call you a car, “but if it’s a chance for you to be happy, isn’t it worth taking?”
~~~~
“I want to marry you both,”
And again, your statement is met with confused stares, as you had all but pulled up to their compound and entered to find them seated together discussing business in a side room — and their stares were still anything but average — but to you now, they meant so much more.
“Not marry you right now, but maybe eventually,” adrenaline was surely pumping through your system, right? That’s probably why your hands were shaking and your mouth was dry, but even so you knew you needed to say it before they spoke, “I’m sorry for leaving the way I did. I told myself after we first met I wouldn’t be a coward, but I was when I ran away, and I don’t have any excuse,” you swallowed, “but I know what I want — and I want both of you, as selfish as that feels,” guilt crawled up your throat at the statement of that sentence, as if begging you to swallow the words that spilled from your lips back up, “and I don’t know how either of you feel — but if we were to do this, I would want us to be honest and—”
And the screech of their chairs takes you aback, and you felt your cheeks burn, was this it?
But instead of brushing past you, they stand in front of you, one of them tilting your head upwards to meet their gazes.
“Took you long enough, sweetheart,” Satoru’s lips curled, his hand cupping your cheek, “I know we said we wanted you to hurt us, but not like that,”
“Sent us away just to ghost us,” Suguru clicked his tongue, his fingers still under your chin, “I’ll have to plant a tracker on you again,”
You shake your head, “Wait, what? Are you both okay—”
“We did say we’d kill the other for your hand, but,” Suguru presses a kiss to your forehead, “But now we realize the more eyes watching you, the better, and,” he shrugs, “we don’t mind sharing if it’s just with the other,”
“And I know you’ll prefer me sooner or later,” Satoru adds, earning a glare from Suguru, as you only chuckle, “Suguru is always so grumpy—ow!” Suguru smacks on the back of the head, as the black haired yakuza wraps his arms around you, pressing your back to his front.
“And you are always too busy running your mouth,” Suguru replies, pressing a kiss to your cheek, “sure you can handle both of us in your life?” and you pull Satoru close too, letting his lips brush yours, before turning and pressing a kiss to Suguru.
“Shouldn’t you be asking yourselves that?” you say, as the two of them wrap an arm around you, “I am supposed to ruin your lives after all.”
✧ a/n: so this has been a longtime coming. i was supposed to be working on prof geto (5) + my nanami celebration fic but this took over my life and wouldn't let go until i finished. so i hope you guys enjoy!! and this is my reminder why i don't write multi partner scenes like this often because its....difficult. thank you to @gaylatteart for reading and putting up with me <333
✧ taglist: @midmourn, @whore-for-hawks, @ekaterinatepes, @satoryaa, @mandysfanfics, @sodoney, @sukunasfavoritehole, @kazbrkker, @satorugirlie, @itsbokutosjuicyass, @santos4, @levanadragoneel, @talkativetranscendant, @abiiebibie, @simply-a-s1mp, @jolynelovesrain, @deegausserr, @xxemmarldxx, @biancaness, @satoniko, @ackermanbby, @rintoriss, @kentocalls, @marionettte, @bear-likes-mushrooms, @forest-hashira, @catsgomurp, @k1t0u, @rat-loves, @forest-fruits-jam, @wishingforanother, @roseified, @spider-fan72, @caelestine-the-caelicatto, @gojolvrr34, @chosobun, @chuuyasboots, @nanamis-baker, @hanxyy,
#sab [mlist]#satoru gojo x reader#satoru gojo smut#suguru geto x reader#suguru geto smut#geto suguru smut#gojo satoru smut#stsg x reader#satosugu x reader#satoru gojo x you#suguru geto x you#jjk x reader#jjk fanfiction#jujutsu kaisen fanfiction#jujutsu kaisen x reader#gojo x reader#geto x reader#geto fanfiction#gojo fanfiction
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Me when it comes to half of things about ***: dare i say, this shit is good
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handing you this then returning to the little mole-rat burrow that is my bedroom so i can write more
#camp camp#cc nerris#cc harrison#cc harrison angst#nerrison#nerriston#but preston isnt here#its from a wip nerriston fic tho#soooo#wip#fic wip#sneakpeak of my super cool fic 'tongue tied'#v5 or whatever#also its not called tongue tied anymore#but im too lazy to change the tag#as for why the kid said that#harrison's brother in this fic died when he was about 16!!#or well “disappeared”#harrison is 14 in the fic#freshman moment#because thats my hc for him#sooo#him becoming the same age as his brother when he died eventually#will destroy him#anyway anyway#there u guys go#pats ur heads#“fuck queue harrison”
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── “Inconvenience” [Ryomen Sukuna]
Request — I love love love love love your fav concubine/queen stories with sukuna 😍😍😍😍❤️❤️❤️❤️ can I request a story where for the concubine rides sukuna's tummy tongue until he's completely satisfied , like edge play/multiple orgasm or pregnant sex where the queen is really needy and horny for her husband after he has spent so much time outside.
A/N — hi nonnie, tysm for requesting <3 hope you don't mind, but I went with preggo sex cuz I'm not comfy writing fics with his belly mouth involved yet, so I'm really sorry. Hope you enjoy this though.
Warnings — pregnant sex, praise, creampie, nipple play, true form! Sukuna
Minors DNI
"S'kuna, missed you so much..." you mumble softly, face buried in his chest. He was met by such an adorable sight the moment he returned— his adorable, pretty lil wifey with a small yet visible baby bump rushing to greet him and capturing him in a hug. He chuckles, patting your head softly.
"That so? just how much did you miss me, my Queen?" he places a finger beneath your chin, gently nudging you to look up at him. One of his other hands are placed on your hip, his thumb tracing your slightly swollen belly.
"Too much, Sukuna..." you reply with a frown. Your hormones were driving you mad. Carrying the child of the king of curses wasn't easy, your needs increased phenomenally. You needed Sukuna more than ever, you needed him to be by your side, saying soft and comforting things to you, reminding you of how good you are, how proud he is of you for carrying his little heir.
He chuckles again, a hand reaching to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, "Well, I'll have to apologise to my Queen for causing her such inconvenience, no?"
"You better," you pout, tiptoeing in an attempt to get a kiss. He smiles and pulls you close, bending a bit to give you a well-deserved kiss. You whimper softly as he bites your lower lip, his tongue swirling around yours, driving you crazy. You needed him so, so, so bad.
He parts, allowing you your oxygen, a thumb tracing your lower, swollen lips slightly. Goodness, you had gotten so beautiful with his heir growing in you. A hand traces the line of your back, causing shivers to run down your spine, "My beautiful queen..."
A short gasp escapes you as his fingers finds your loosely tied obi— untying it in a single moment. Your kimono loosely falls at your sides, and Sukuna gently places you back on your bed where you lay resting before his return. He presses a few kisses on the soft skin of your neck, relishing your scent— one he had to unwillingly part from for a few days.
"Magnificent..." he mutters, trailing kisses before stopping at the swell of your breasts, which had swollen significantly thanks to the pregnancy. He chuckles darkly, cupping your sore tit with one hand, making you whine softly before his lips latch onto your nipple, sucking deviously on the sore skin.
"N–Ngh...S'kuna..." you let out a soft moan, fingers tugging on his pink hair slightly as you feel the wetness grow between your thighs. You rub your legs together to soothe the growing ache. Sukuna, noticing soon, parts from your nipple with a smile, a string of saliva dissolving as he does.
"Feeling needy, are we?" he speaks, his finger reaching below to trace your dripping folds from over the cloth. "Ah...so needy, my queen." he chuckles, feeling the wetness grow and watching you squirm, eyes pleading him to continue.
"Speak, my Queen..." he smirks, teasing you by torturously tracing his finger up and down, finding your sensitive clit. You're a mess and he hasn't even begun yet.
"S-Sukuna–ah, please!" the plea escapes your lips, "N-Need you," you say in a raspy voice. The hormones had gotten you so needy and sensitive for him. He chuckles, the no-good panties ripped off from you in an instant, revealing your glistening cunt.
"How cute." he smirks, beginning to undress himself, the kimono falling off his body, the silk material falling of his body. You eye your husband with your needy eyes— making quite a cute sight for his. He reveals his cock– veiny, throbbing, pre-cum dripping down from his tip. Such a sight could make you drool on spot...
"Ready, my Queen?" he asks, a smile on his lips as he rubs the tip against your puffy lips. You give him a weak nod, as he prods his cock into your entrance, making you gasp at the sensation of his girth slowly filling up your tight entrance. "S-Sukuna!"
He enters your heat fully, making you feel every inch of him, and added your grown sensitivity from your hormones— every push, every pull, every caress on your skin, it drove you crazy. "O-Oh, Sukuna-Ah!" you moan, wrapping your hands weakly around his neck.
He begins to rock his thick length in and out of your tight cunt, which welcomed it warmly, squeezing around it everytime. He groans, feeling the slick coat his cock, feeling the warmth of your sweet cunt tightening around him, leaning down to kiss you and leave your lips swollen, feeling your round tits bounce up and down with each thrust against his chest.
"Cum for me, my precious..." he grunts, feeling your gummy walls tighten around him a bit more, knowing you're nearing your sweet release. "Mnhh...S'kuna!!" you moan out loudly, a clear liquid gushing over his cock as your walls clamp around him, your head buried in the crook of his neck, making him grin merrily.
A few more thrusts, and he finds himself close to release too, he grunts audibly before emptying his seed into you. A soft whine escapes your lips as you feel the warm sticky liquid fill you up, feeling more sensitive than ever. He pulls out, looking at his cum gush out of your cunt slowly, proud of the mess he created.
His eyes shift back at your tired form, and he leans to press a kiss to your forehead, gently brushing the strands of your hair from my face before he grins at you, "Hope that was enough to make up for the inconvenience caused."
You, through heavy breaths, manage to give him a soft and sweet smile, "Will do..."
He smiles at your response, laying himself beside you, kissing your forehead softly. His fingers gently traces the swell of your belly. "You did well, my love..." he says softly, allowing you to rest as you cuddle up to him.
A hand rests on your head and the other on your belly, he's enthralled by the fact that there's a tiny version of him on the way. And you're the one who's giving him this blessing. His precious queen.
"I'm so proud of you," he mutters softly, kissing the top of your head. That's the last thing you hear before slipping into sleep's sweet embrace.
#jujutsu sukuna#jjk smut#ruins posts#sukuna smut#sukuna x reader#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujustsu kaisen x reader#sukuna x you#sukuna x y/n#jjk x reader#jjk x you#jjk x y/n#sukuna fluff#true form sukuna#sukuna imagine#ryomen sukuna smut
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2 + 1 — gojo satoru
synopsis. two times megumi thinks gojo is a lost cause and one time he approves of the white haired idiot
contents. fluff, lovesick!gojo, ooc, misogyny (from the clan heads), he is so pathetic for his wife (nauseating!), slight yandere behavior, violence, in megumi’s pov, not proofread eep
notes. can you tell i've been obsessed with the apothecary diaries? >< also how long has it been since i've posted a fic? anyways... enjoy!
fushiguro megumi has always wondered how that blue eyed idiot managed to marry you. he must have resorted to underhanded tactics; or at least that's what the sea urchin suspects. though he's never voiced it, the question has bothered him since the day he first encountered the both of you.
nobara clicks her tongue. “this is borderline creepy.” her orange eyes are filled with nothing short of distaste.
“there’s more too,” megumi’s voice responded, carefully flipping the page. the delicate artifact in his hand is something that he should have not touched. perhaps he should have wrapped it with a talisman and destroyed it while he had the chance.
it was too late for that anyway, because not even a second later, gojo satoru bursts through the shoji doors of the classroom.
with eyes blown wide as if they were caught committing a crime (they were), the first years who had pulled three seats up to a singular desk stare at him. satoru's eyes widen behind his blindfold as he catches sight of the object of their focus.
there lies in the middle of the wooden desk was the physics textbook that all first year jujutsu tech students were required to read. however, this wasn’t just any plain old textbook. it was gojo satoru’s former textbook. brimmed with doodles of their beloved [name] sensei and gojo himself when they were back in highschool.
any free space that was not filled with words were taken up by drawings of you inside of hearts and sometimes a depiction of a chibi version of the two of you.
a true testament to gojo satoru’s pining and devotion to you.
“sensei, we can explain–” yuji attempts to explain himself but gojo holds up a hand to silence the boy.
unlike you, megumi finds it a lot more challenging to read the white haired sorcerer’s expression with the blindfold on. he wonders if his punishment will be a painful beating disguised as a sparring session (megumi will run to you, who will scare gojo into backing down). you have that effect on him.
it seems like the heavens have answered megumi’s prayers because gojo satoru doesn’t seem to harbor any anger at his shocking revelation.
“i can’t believe you guys found this old thing.” satoru dismisses his students’ personal space by leaning closely to observe the pages. the black haired boy makes a noise of disapproval, but was quickly cut off by his benefactor. “megumi, be grateful that i’m in a good mood today.” he doesn’t elaborate the ominous message, rather choosing to hum happily as he studies his own drawings.
megumi is smart enough to keep his mouth shut.
“i never took you to be the pathetic type,” kugisaki continues to flip through the pages of the textbook. yuji nods furiously, as if to agree to her observation.
“you seriously never noticed?” megumi mutters under his breath.
gojo places a strong hand on megumi’s back, a languid smile on his face, “it was only natural, considering the lengths i had to go through to win her over.” he ignores the way megumi gasps for air.
“seriously?” itadori asks in disbelief.
“seriously.” gojo confirms wholeheartedly.
megumi shudders, recollecting memories of times before gojo tied you down for good.
2009
“sorry i’m late!” gojo bursts through the dingy apartment door with a convenience store bag in his arm. he was breathing heavily, an indication that he had run to the apartment. an uninterested seven year old megumi doesn’t bother leaving his place on the couch to greet his benefactor.
“they’re in the kitchen,” he says in his monotone voice, eyes never leaving the book that you had just gifted him.
“they?” gojo walks up to megumi to ruffle his hair aggressively. he receives a hiss in return.
“tsumiki and [name]?” the black haired kid says it like it was obvious. his sentence is accompanied with an eyeroll.
at the mention of your name, gojo immediately perks up. megumi imagines that if he were a cat, his ears would be swiveling and his nose twitching, attuned to pick up any trace of your presence. he had just learned that from the nonfiction book in his lap.
“[name]?! here? now?” gojo’s eyebrows are raised all the way to his forehead. the white haired sorcerer immediately started fixing his uniform and hair. megumi thinks it was comical. he was a lost cause.
the snarky look on his face is quickly wiped off when he sees gojo leaning down, mouth wide open.
“oi brat, check my breath,” gojo opens his mouth wide for megumi to check. the black haired kid shrivels up into the couch the further gojo leans down. megumi considers summoning his newly discovered jujutsu technique, hoping to avoid his fate.
“—toru? what are you doing?” your voice, like a divine intervention, stops gojo from sending megumi to the depths of despair. a sigh of relief escapes his lips.
now it was his turn to watch gojo squirm. the older male’s face contorts to an awkward smile and all of a sudden gojo is reduced to nothing but a mess.
“don’t worry about it darling!” gojo slowly turns around to face you. “agh—?!”
megumi has to peek around satoru’s big frame to see what elicited such a response from the man.
he’s met with a wave of underwhelming familiarity. there you stand, clad in a frilly apron with a wooden spoon in hand, the essence of domesticity incarnate. the soft glow of the warm kitchen lights dances around you, casting a warm aura that seems to envelop the room.
“welcome home, satoru.” you give him your signature closed eye smile. “i mean, you probably don’t consider it your home but—“
you’re cut off by satoru banging his head on the nearest wall repeatedly. he’s muttering something under his breath that you don’t hear.
to his dismay, megumi's keen ears catch every syllable. satoru's voice, though hushed, carries a hint of longing, "what an angel," he whispers, his words laced with adoration. "just marry me already."
unamused, he watches while you try to desperately pry gojo from his strange outburst.
a lost cause indeed.
2009
in that very year, megumi learns that gojo’s efforts to win your affection had yielded no progress. it had become increasingly apparent that his frequent visits to megumi and tsumiki's humble home were motivated to immerse himself in the semblance of domesticity that your presence offered. megumi almost pitied the man, if it wasn’t for the fact that he knew you deserve someone more sensible.
me
[name]
[nameeeee]
i’m dying.
and it’s your fault t^t
[name] ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡
excuse me?
me
i’ll have you know that i worked the hardest that i have ever worked to finish all of my paperwork so i could see you tonight… only to find out from megumi that you’re on a date?!!?
i feel like my chest is caving in.
i’m going to throw up.
[name] ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡
oh this is what you’re interrupting my date for?
me
i’m going to be sick.
please tell me, is he hotter than me? wealthier? funnier?
megumi quickly looks away from gojo’s phone screen when the white haired male slams it shut and mutters under his breath a couple of curses. he’s pretty sure half of them were death threats. honestly, couldn't you have attracted someone with more dignity?
“change of plans,” gojo claps his hands together. “movie night’s off.”
“what?” megumi protests, confusion etched in his features.
“our beloved [name] is getting swept off of her feet. you wouldn’t want that to happen, right?” gojo continues, his tone light but his gaze sharp as it bores into megumi's soul. something unpleasant coils in the pit of his stomach.
megumi feels a chill run down his spine, his mind racing with the implications of gojo's words. if you choose to date this new guy, he realizes, you won't need him or gojo anymore. and that thought terrifies him. it pains megumi to feed into gojo's delusions.
but he can’t let this unnamed suitor steal you away.
a wolfish grin makes its way to gojo’s mouth when he realizes that he’s won.
“what's the plan?”
2016
it was only years later that megumi had seen the true monster that lurks inside of gojo satoru.
on a hot summer evening, amidst a gathering of esteemed clan heads, he and satoru found themselves in a traditional chamber. while the finer details of the meeting escape his memory, the image of the room that altered his perception of gojo satoru is etched in his mind indefinitely. the wooden walls, adorned with subtle yet elegant designs, speak volumes about the room’s significance as a venue for the most influential members of jujutsu society.
throughout the meeting, he finds himself driving in and out of focus, content to let his mentor represent the gojo clan. however, his attention is abruptly seized by a particular remark that cuts through the haze of his thoughts.
“how’s that whore of yours, gojo?” a clan head jeered, clearly drunk on the sake that was constantly refilled by the servant on the side. his flushed complexion is scarcely discernible thanks to the dim glow emanating from the few lanterns scattered around the room.
there was only one person he could have been referring to: you. underneath the wooden table, his fingers tightened painfully into fists. pretentious bastards, megumi thinks.
another geezer rubbed his beard thoughtfully, “she has a nice body. perfect to be a concubine, but i would marry a more submissive woman.”
megumi's gaze stealthily darts towards gojo, seated beside him.
he’s startled to find the white-haired man wears a wide grin that belies a hidden truth. unseen by the elders before them, lurking beneath gojo's outward expression, is a manic gleam in his eyes—a revelation that sends a shiver down megumi's spine.
“i’d hold my tongue if i were you.” gojo satoru’s voice was dripping with venom. he sounded downright murderous.
"i'm right, am i not? we can share her if you'd like- name the price." the drunkard continues loudly.
megumi senses an instinctive wave of primal dread washing over him, compelling him with an urgent, almost instinctual need to flee or die.
before he can move a muscle, the flames that surround the room flicker before extinguishing in succession by an unknown force. the metallic stench of blood fills the air and all he can hear is the sound of flesh mutilating and bones crushing accompanied by the painful shouts of the men that once sat in front of him. he doesn’t have to see it with his own eyes to be able to sense gojo’s strong curse residue that suffocates the room.
“stand up megumi. we’re leaving.” his voice carries a feral edge, leaving no room for objection.
on their way out of the compound, the two don’t utter a word at what had just transpired.
megumi's gaze remains fixed on the ground beneath his feet, the images of the recent events swirling in his mind, leaving him unsettled and shaken. with each step, he grapples with the unsettling realization that beneath gojo satoru's charismatic facade lies a darker, more sinister nature.
the strongest sorcerer of today, riled up by the mere mention of your name.
megumi supposes he doesn’t feel much remorse for those clan heads anyway. he was never the type to mourn over people he didn’t know dying. especially not people who he knew would live on to do evil. it doesn’t help that they were blatantly disrespecting you. perhaps he could sympathize with the monster inside of gojo.
oblivious to the turmoil that stirs inside of megumi, gojo starts to smile.
“i know what you’re going to say,” gojo hums happily. “gojo sensei, you’re so cool! i approve of you marrying my beloved [name]! kyaa~’” he makes a pathetic attempt to imitate megumi.
the black haired boy grunts. he was going to say something along the lines of his approval for his benefactor, but all desires of flattering the white haired sorcerer disappeared.
gojo watches the black haired boy intently before tutting.
“not that it matters.” megumi is startled to hear how his voice dropped an octave. “i was always going to marry [name] and i’ll be damned to let anyone stop me.”
2018 – present day
after satiating his students with tales from his pining days, your husband comes home often clingier than normal (is that even possible?). the moment satoru enters your home, his arms envelop you, caging you in his hold.
you can't help but giggle as his hair brushes against the side of your neck, his embrace pulling you in close, as if he's inhaling your presence. his muscles flex when you attempt to slip away, keeping you in his tight embrace.
“sato– what is going on?!”
“is it a crime to show my wife some love?” he kisses your neck. when his flurry of kisses stop, he resorts to absorbing all of your features with those cerulean eyes of his.
you don’t bother pushing him away again, choosing to thread your fingers through his soft hair. even after all these years, you will never not feel the effect of satoru’s eyes on you.
“i was telling my first years about you today,” he says softly.
you smile, “is that so?”
he pushes his nose into your neck again, nodding.
“you’re so good to them,” you whisper. despite the initial shock behind satoru choosing to pursue education, you’re extremely proud of how far he’s come.
“mhm,” satoru inhales. “i’d be good to our little ones too.” one of his hands sneak to your stomach.
you delicately guide his face away from your form, your fingers tenderly urging him to meet your gaze. "is there something you want to tell me?" you inquire softly, your eyes reflecting the warmth of your affection.
satoru's smirk deepens, a glint of mischief dancing in his eyes. "perhaps," he murmurs, his touch light as he guides you towards the bedroom. without hesitation, you yield to his lead, eager at his sudden intimate gesture.
from outside your home, three first year students stand, waiting for their sensei’s cue to enter.
“do you think he’s forgotten about us?” yuji furrows his eyebrows, hands full of grocery bags that were going to be prepared for dinner.
extra notes. had the idea of gojo and megumi crashing your date in my drafts for so long. maybe ill elaborate on it if the ppl want to see :,)
#kt.writes.·:*¨༺#gojo satoru x reader#gojo x reader#gojo fluff#gojo satoru x you#gojou satoru x reader#jjk fluff#gojo satoru x y/n#gojou satoru x you#jujutsu kaisen fluff#gojou x reader#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader
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