Latest Posts by maboiisuga - Page 2

when louis tells the story vs when lestat does

Our hearts stopped from the sound, we were terrified, we felt our souls leaving us, O Lord, your mercy, help us, protect us, my sister from terror and fear, she lost her speech, only tears, the campaign has stopped, there are no donations, this is the simplest thing we ask of you, your donation will save our lives, we are living in terror and famine, protect us from famine and genocide, help us reach the minimum goal, help us reach 9k today, donate, save us https://gofund.me/6a6be4ab

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Donate to Help me to support my family in Gaza, organized by Rawan Ayyad

Hello everyone, My name is Rawan Ayyad, and I am writing to you today with a heav… Rawan Ayyad needs your support for Help me to support

Hello dear friends! ❤🤍🖤💚

🍉I am Mahmoud Ayyad, a Palestinian from the besieged and destroyed Gaza 😭😭, coming from an extended family of young children, women and elderly people ❤❤ who have been suffering😭😭 for 300 difficult days from an aggressive war.

Our lives are harsh because we lack all the basic necessities of life. Everything has become scarce and unattainable. There is no food, no water, no medicine.

So, I ask you to help me keep my family safe and alive, especially after we had lost all our sources of livelihood.Please do not leave my family to struggle and suffer these difficult days alone. You can support my campaign by donating whatever you can or by sharing my posts to reach others who can help us survive the war to safety and peace. You are helping the lives of many people with your small contribution. Every donation makes a difference in our very difficult lives. But this is a legitimate campaign and has been checked by 90-ghost.

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Donate to Urgent aid ! Help to fight starvation for an extended family, organized by Mahmoud Ayyad

I am Mahmoud Ayyad and his family from Gaza, I share with … Mahmoud Ayyad needs your support for Urgent aid ! Help to fight starvation fo

bos taurus | dogmeat series pt., i

mafia butcher Simon Riley x Reader

You don't question your brother when he sends you to drop off packages to his friends, but when the enforcer for the 141 shows up to teach the small-time dealer selling on their turf a lesson, you realize there are different ways to pay someone back with pounds of flesh.

(OR: your brother owes them, and Ghost is content to let you settle the debt. after all, if you wanted freedom, then you shouldn't have caught the eye of the butcher of the 141, should you?)

18+ SMUT. noncon. objectification. marking. kidnapping. threats of violence. unsafe sex (manipulation into unprotected sex). rough sex. size difference. breathplay. 10k of foreplay. light pussy slapping. overstimulation. mafia au.

SERIES MASTERLIST | AO3

The goal is to be as quick and discreet as possible. 

In and out, he says, looping the baggie around his index finger. Inside, a snowfall of white powder settles at the bottom. 

Meth this time. Oxytocin the last. 

He ties it tight before giving the bag a quick shake, breaking up the clumps. Satisfied with the way it looks, he turns toward you. Levels you with a sombre look, the picture of a concerned older brother. 

You almost fall for it. Believe it. But the clouded, flat edge to his gaze undercuts his worry for what it really is. A farce. 

“And if it seems sketchy—”

—run.

But your knees are locked, soles glued to the pavement. You can't move even though everything is screaming at you to flee. 

The problem, maybe, is that there's nowhere to go. Escape cut off, filled by a body, a man—even though the idea, the mere notion, of thinking this behemoth as human, flesh and bone; blood and tissue, is laughable when he's so clearly a beast. A monster. 

He fills up your field of vision. Your line of sight was eclipsed by the thickness of his waist, the broad expanse of his shoulders. Thighs that are as wide as the trunk of a tree. Arms boxing you in. A prison of obsidian. A black shadow. 

In the panic that surfaces, surging to the top like an oil spill, you catch a pocket where he doesn't root. A small alcove between the bend of his elbow and the slot of his knee perched against the wall. Enough room for you to—

“Wouldn't do tha’ if I were you.” 

His voice seems to shake the earth, rolling out of his broad chest like the low, brassy roar of a lion; a rumbling thunderclap. 

You feel sick—

The leather covering his hand is cold when it closes around your arm, grip tight. Bruising. Trapping you with just the slightest effort. 

“Go’ a problem, you and I,” he starts, and it's almost conversational. Might be, perhaps, if the clean, sleek outline of his gun inside the unclasped holster around his ungodly thick waist wasn't threatening you more than the grip he has on your arm. “How do you reckon we can fix it?”

You have a meagre twenty dollars in your pocket. Less money for them to take if things go awry. If they decide that the little girl standing in for her older brother was an easier target to rob—money and drugs—than to settle things fairly. Money, goods. Hand over hand. 

Just like the movies, he'd said. 

Just like the movies, you think when he leans in closer, bulk swallowing you whole. 

There is a pockmark in the corner of his crooked, misshapen nose and the crease of his eye. A scar, maybe. It's circular—almost perfectly so; a silver-pink moon on the angular ridge of his nose. Uneven, craggy, like crumpled printer paper. 

It looks almost like—

You think of the mark on your arm. Soot-stained. The smell of burning hair, tissue. The searing pain. 

“I–I can pay you—” you stammer out, tearing your gaze away from the ugly mark on his skin. A cigarette burn. It makes you shudder. 

He cocks his head slowly like a big, dumb dog, but there's something eerie in the ink spill of his eyes. The soft matte of a saltwater crocodile staring at you from beneath the murk. Calculative. Hungry. 

“Pay me?” He echoes slowly, dragging the words out mockingly. “D’you know ‘ow much trouble your brother is in? For sellin’ ‘ere of all places?” 

“No,” you swallow. It feels like your heart is stuck inside your throat. “I–I just—”

“Run ‘is errands,” he finishes cruelly but you can't deny it. “Ain't you a good little sister? Almost makes me wish I ‘ad somethin’ as sweet as you f’myself growin’ up.”

You don't answer. He doesn't seem to be looking for one, really; just empty words to fill space. To echo in your head, barbed wire around any sense of comfort you might have felt. Punishing cruelty. 

He has the upper hand, it says. He's the one who makes derisive jokes while you tremble in his grasp, and try to make yourself as small, as unassuming, as possible. Hiding from the predator in plain sight. Hoping he passes you over for something bigger, more calorie-dense; the effort to catch and consume you expends more energy than the return. Hardly worth it in the long run. The comfort of a risk-reward ratio, right?

But he's opportunistic, it seems. A snacking scavenger. 

Could eat, it says, like a basking tiger keeping a mouse trapped between his paws, letting it squirm and squeak as he slowly licks his lips. Not enough to fill its belly but enough to satisfy the gluttonous urge a predator has to eat. Sharpening its teeth on flimsy bones. Child’s play. 

It's a fitting image, especially with the way he arches over you, looms; fingers looped around the thick of your arm, holding firm, but not—

Not as tight as he could. 

It's a loose-fisted grasp. Lazy, almost. He knows you won't run—or, at the very least, knows you won't get far. 

You peel your gaze away from his, dropping it to the curve of his shoulders—the width of them is just as dizzying as his height; broad, muscular. Pulling it further down the length of his arm, covered in a thick jacket. Black corduroy. Ashes stain the cuffs. A bulky watch juts out from his wrist. Gold. Glinting even in the grey-blue gloom of an overcast evenfall. 

His muscles tense. Hand tightening around your arm, fingers digging hard. Rubbing muscle painfully against bone. 

A warning, maybe. Stop looking—

But something else catches your eye. Blood red. The colour of meat. A fresh kill. 

The back of his hand has a blooming rose. Petals spread out, unfurled. In the middle, a milky skull sits. Stencilled in boxy, yellow letters is ONE-FOUR-ONE—

You know what it means even as your mind whirs, gears turning, turning; plummeting into a tailspin, making excuses as it falls, dragging your heart down alongside it. An area code. Some special date. An inside joke. 

But you've seen the marking around town before. Heard whispers about them from your brother, his friends. 141, they say, and then: mafia. 

The real deal, he said, puffing around a joint his friend rolled. It's too tight. He scoffs, and rips it out from between his lips. Shitty roll, man, make another one—

Mob. Mafia. Gangsters. It seemed so extreme, Hollywood. Fiction, fantasy, all rolled into one. Tony Soprano. Ralph Cifaretto. Michael and Vito Corleone. Tony Montana. Larger-than-life men created on paper. 

You think your brother thought so too. Child's play. Grown men selling weed to kids for two hundred an ounce. Buying themselves sleek, black cars—G Wagons, Escalades, Cullinans—on the Xanax they sell at clubs, parties. Cocaine. Heroin. 

Nothing to worry about. 

Then his friend went missing. 

Sent out on a routine delivery to drop off cocaine to well-dressed men in suits outside of a local butcher shop. A normal, nondescript Tuesday. 

But he wouldn't answer his phone. Texts were being delivered, read, but no chat bubble appeared. Nothing sent back. Calls went straight to voicemail. He wasn't at home. Wasn't at his mum's. No one saw him. Heard from him. 

Your brother didn't call the police. Didn't report him as missing. 

It's just not what they do, he said. You don't involve them. Ever. 

The most shocking part of it was that no one saw anything. He just vanished. Disappeared—stock an’ all, your brother angrily spits—without a trace, picked up off the streets. 

If it was the police, someone would have said something by now. They're hardly discreet. And a rival—

Well.

The biggest problem was that your brother was blindsided by his own small-time success. An accumulation of little wins bolstered his confidence. Overfed his ego. This fallout was tunnel vision. A refusal to see the bigger picture. 

Or the storm clouds looming on the horizon. 

You'd heard of the 141 in passing. Little quips, anecdotes from the passel of friends that congregated around your brother—often getting high on the couch and watching old cartoons; sharing a joint back and forth between gossip. 

Through rheumy eyes, they'd talk about the real gangsters in town—much to the irritation of your brother—and swap tales of run-ins and feats they heard from a friend (of a friend, of a friend). Most of the guys were known already. Soap and Gaz are the biggest names that cropped up on the streets through reputation alone. Both fighters for a gym. MMA, mostly, but whispers of street fighting and extracurricular activities weren't uncommon. 

Liked the thrill of it, they said. But the worst was a man simply known as the Ghost. An enforcer for the 141—a fucking butcher, more like, Liam cut in, jaundiced eyes widening—the guy who took care of problems. 

“Can't be,” your brother scoffed, lifting off the couch to reach in his back pocket for his wallet. A small anthill of white powder poured into the glass table. “They don't get involved in our shit—”

And for the most part, you're sure that's true. Dealing to the same circle of people—outreach spread through word of mouth—seemed paltry in comparison to the scale of an operation that had a money laundering gym. But the problem was that your brother lacked common sense. His ego often got in the way of foresight. The shadow greed casts blocking out the bigger picture. 

Like—

Territory is territory—regardless of what's being pushed. 

You wish there was a modicum of surprise when his friend turned up. Barely recognizable. Sent right to the morgue as a John Doe. 

Most would see the marks on the man's skin—the distinct lack of blood—as an indicator to abandon ship, find the boss, beg for forgiveness, and maybe even try to strike up a deal. But—

That picture is hidden under his anger. Greed. Selfishness. 

He sends you instead. 

You're somethin’ they ain't expectin’, he said. Won't mess with you.

Right. 

He catches the realisation dripping down your brow—beads of sweat gathering at your hairline; anxiety, fear, churning your stomach—and hums. Cocks his head to the side. 

“Was expectin’ ‘im t’show up, though—” he murmurs, hand tightening around your arm. The pressure, the sting, is eclipsed by the gnawing sense of dread biting viciously into you. “Told ‘im if I caught ‘im sellin’ on our streets again, there'd be trouble. Thought we ‘ad an agreement after ‘is friend. But—”

His eyes cut to yours. It feels like a knife to your guts, sinking into soft tissue. A pain you can't breathe around. 

Won't mess with you, you think, and then viciously—sadly—he knew. Was warned by them and still sent you out. Let you take his place for whatever comeuppance they decided he deserved. 

It should shock you. You almost wish it did. Desperately clinging to the threads of surprise that slip through your oily fingers, grasping onto the nothing but empty air. Numbed to the resignation that trickles in. 

Of course he would leave you here to save himself. Letting you fend off whatever they threw at you alone. Leaving you trapped between a brick wall and a wall of a man. 

The excuses are there. They pool on the tip of your tongue—it isn't me, don't do this, it's my (stupid, selfish) brother you want, not me—but you swallow them down and try not to wince at how quickly they dissipate when you do. It doesn't matter in the end because whatever you have to say won't negate the drugs in your backpack. The empty house you'll lead them to—your brother probably squirrelled away somewhere until this blows over. Half-hopeful you'd call him and say everything is fine, the deal went smoothly. You're on your way back. Or that the debt he racked up with them is settled by you. 

It's half-hearted when it slips out again, caught between resignation and dread. A brittle whisper. A prayer—

“I can pay you. Whatever he owes, I can—”

He's already shaking his head. 

“Too late for that, birdie. ‘sides, I don't want your money.”

He moves back, rocking on his heels to put a small measure of distance between your bodies. In that scant space, he drops his gaze, sweeping it over you. His eyes darken.

When he pivots them down, catching yours, you can't stop the shiver that crawls up your spine. 

That calculative gleam is back. 

“But I think we can work something else out.”

Something else turns out to be ushering you into the backseat of an old Ford pickup. 

The door whines when he opens it. Rust flaking off, falling to the ground by your feet. Your mind reels. Spins comparisons to falling snow, dried blood. 

He hauls you in with his hand wrapped around the nape of your neck, thick thigh sliding between your own to boost you up. The protest—a mindless, reactionary squeal at being manhandled—only makes him chuff. A brief flex of his fingers around the skin of your neck is the only warning he gives before it pulls away, and wraps tight around your waist. His thigh flexes, muscle drawing taut as he shifts his foot up to the running board, lifting your feet off the ground and seating you fully on his leg like a child.

(In his hands, you feel like one, too.)

The motion makes you slip, back glueing along his broad chest with a shallow thump. You feel the rumble of his laugh trembling up your spine before you hear it. 

“Careful,” he drawls, oiled with amusement. “Might slip.”

Anything you could say in response is choked back when he bumps the corded steel of his thigh into the seam of your legs, pushing tight to your clothed cunt. His intention is unmistakable this time. Unignorable. And with the rasp of filtered, balmy air against your crown; the pull of a groan when you rock back into his groin, the noise still slicked with mirth, you feel a knot of dread spool tight in your belly. 

Something else is dragged back to the forefront, coiling like wisps of smoke around you. 

And you knew. It's shocking, you think, but not necessarily a surprise. To call it a dichotomy would be lying to yourself, and so, you settle against it. This notion that what he wants—wanted—is flesh. Not money. Not retribution. 

Not to talk things out like you'd hoped he’d try (grabbing onto the idealistic thread, holding it tight to your chest); bringing you in and forcing you to convince your—stupid selfish greedy—older brother that quitting was the only option. Dangling you—baby sister—over his head in an appeal to his emotions. Familial bonds. Love. 

That thread is cut. Snipped. 

Probably severed when they first came to him with an offer. No strikes against him and yet—

The idea of using you to make him bend was expunged from the drawing board. It's not even a plan b, or c, or z. 

And—

You knew. Have known. Maybe that's why it's so easy to swallow around the panic when it lances through your chest, climbs up your throat. You can think and feel and breathe around this dagger in your back like it was there the whole time and you've only just noticed it now. 

Nothing but a small, whispered oh in the roiling polyphony of your emotions. 

It sits there as he manuevers you into the passenger seat of his truck, your head spinning around the indescribable sensation of being woefully cognisant despite the paralysing fugue pressing against the bubble of stark awareness that keeps it at bay. It manifests itself as a numbed sort of shock. Or more accurately—

Indifference. 

Defeat. 

His hand brushes your cheek, the snag of dry leather against humid skin tugs uncomfortably at your flesh, stinging as they dance down to your jaw, the delicate line of your vulnerable throat, skimming over the curve of your breast—

And it's too much. Too present. Too real. 

Autopilot. Dissociation. Derealisation. All of these concepts slip past the bubble of hypervigilance, skidding the surface like a pebble thrown over a lake. Out of reach as he unashamedly gropes you, barely making an effort to mask his actions as just buckling you in. 

You pretend, though. Curl your fists around the sides of the seat, fingers digging into the worn foam. Head lulling back on the headrest. Eyes fixed out the window as he walked around the front, head and shoulders still visible in the windshield despite the height of the truck. It makes your heart leap, stuttering in your chest as the absurdity of his size is brought back into focus. Too big, you think. Grossly so. 

There's a moment when you think about running. Toying with the idea of sliding your hand over the lock, pulling the door open when he's too busy on his side to notice. It'll give you an advantage—a head start. Enough time to slink through the dense forest of concrete buildings lining the industrial zone, and into somewhere safe. Help, a behemoth is chasing me—

But the door clicks. Swings open with a squeal of rusted metal just as your fingers twitch toward the handle. Hope evaporates with each lurch of the cab as he climbs inside, metal creaking under his weight when he settles in the seat. 

From the corner of your eye, you can see his head tip. Chin angling toward you. Staring. Assessing. 

When he speaks, you feel the words like cold fingers dancing maliciously down your spine. 

“‘pected you t’run.” 

It's said idly enough. Nonchalant. Tone even, if a little cruel, and you wonder if this is some test. One that you passed—and failed—in equal measure. 

He doesn't look away. It takes less effort than you wish it did to peel your lips apart, to breathe in the stale, mulch scent of the cab—something overgrown, rotting, and damp—and mumble:

Where would I go?

It seems to amuse him. He hums around a mouthful of mockery before turning away, pawing at the ignition. Gloved hand curling over the wheel. 

“Smart girl.”

You don't feel very smart. In fact, you feel very small. Stupid. Maybe you should have taken a stab at it—running. Tried, at least, to save your own life before the jaws of the beast closed over you like an iron bear trap around your ankle. Fought like hell. Clawed and kicked and screamed. 

When most kids read the back of a cereal box, you learned about secondary locations. You know better than this. 

But the truck sputters to life in a belly-deep rumble, hacking up soot into the air as he pulls the lever into DRIVE. The fight inside of you—however ephemeral it might have been—dies inside the smoke spilling out of his exhaust. Gone so quickly that you begin to wonder if it was even there at all—

Must be, you think, eyes listing outward. Keen. Mapping the twists and turns—a futile effort in the end: he doesn't bother hiding where he's taking you, and you've been down these old, grim streets more times than you can count. 

It doesn't surprise you much when he turns down the street leading to the butcher shop. An old relic that still carries the marks of a booming farming town before it fell victim to industrialisation. Concrete skyscrapers in place of lush cornfields. Warehouses over old barns, ranches. Cattle, meat, produce—it all used to be a mainstay here but now hides under layers of steel. 

The dark windows of the small shop gleam with hazy smears of neon blue, red, when you pull up, catching on the array of rowdy bars across the street. All clubs that belong to the 141. A playground of drugs, sex. More money than you'd ever see in your lifetime. 

It's an uncanny juxtaposition to the quiet, assuming street right across from it. Barber, butcher, accountant firm, antique store. All dark inside and bathed in the smeared stream of glimmering neon as lights flash in the fading glow of twilight. 

He pulls up to the curb in front of the shop. A bold move if the streets weren't so empty. Lifeless. The clubs won't be open for four more hours. Everything else follows the same nine to five as the rest of the world. The shops closed an hour ago, and everyone in town seems to know not to linger here after dark. 

The air seems to stagnate in your lungs when he cuts the ignition. Slips the key into his pocket. 

“Don't get any funny ideas in tha' pretty little ‘ead o’yours.” 

“Funny ideas,” you echo, toneless. Flat. It rolls out with your exhale. Words that might have been smarter to swallow down. “Like following a stranger to a butcher shop?” 

“Lippy little thing, ain't you?” He scoffs. The truck creaks when he shifts. “Ain't go’ no one t’blame but yourself. Told you what would ‘appen if you kept sellin’ in our territory. You should ‘ave known better.”

“That was my brother.” The words slip out before you can stop them. “Not me—”

“‘ow am I suppose t’know that? You were sellin’ where I told ‘im not to—” he has the gall to shrug. Spit these careless words at you like it wasn't life or death. “That's all there is to it, birdie.”

“That's not fair—”

The truck groans under his weight, shaking from side to side as he leans over to push his door open before turning back to you, rolling his eyes. 

“Life ain't very fair, is it?” 

The acerbic words are flicked out from between his teeth; an apathetic, droning curl clinging to each syllable. He doesn't care. Won't. What happens to you next is your choice, and yours alone. 

And he's just doing his job—

“When I get out of ‘ere, you ain't gonna do anythin’ funny—”  

His hand lashes out. Gloved fingers close over the thick of your throat in a blink. Fear lags by a beat, giving him enough time to sink his fingers over your neck, and when it catches up—heart rabbiting in your chest, thudding in your ears; roaring as your pulse thunders beneath the press of his thumb—he’s already got you in his hold. The width forces your chin to lift, stretching up to accommodate the curl of his hand around you. 

Trapped like a rabbit. Cattle to the slaughter. 

He tilts his head down, keeping his eyes on yours as he forces your crown into the headrest, chin lifted up. It's uncomfortable. The curve of your neck cuts off your airways. Constricts your breathing to shallow gasps. An ache grows in your nape. 

The swell of panic, fear, in your eyes makes him hum. But there's nothing echoing back. An absence of light in the deep, placid pits. It looks like still water. A stagnant lake. 

It's unnerving how dispassionately expressive his eyes are. Wild, wild. Vats of ink. Pools of obsidian. Ringed in red-lined ivory. Long, ashen lashes dusting over the smears of charcoal under his eyes. Sleepless nights, maybe. Fatigue. The corners are tattooed with coal, leaving behind a thumbprint in the crease. 

But empty. Barren. No light.

Like black holes. Eating everything around it. Devouring all that gets too close, but giving nothing in return except a bottomless crater in the bruised-plum nebulous of space around it. 

You're not sure you like it. You can't look away. 

But in staring back so hard (getting pulled in deeper and deeper), you catch the twitch in his left eye. A shallow spasm. It throws off the symmetry when he blinks, one eye a sliver of a second behind. Desynchronized in a way that seems so—

Unlike him. 

Disjointed. 

You blink in response. Perfectly synchronous. 

His lid twitches again. Just once. Brief. Pale, pink eyelids drop, unveiling a nebula of indigo veins on the smooth, thin surface as they roll down to half-mast over his eyes, now narrowed slightly in contemplation. Thought. 

Whatever is happening in his head can't be good. It causes a ripple over the lake. Little rings rebound outwards. 

He looks away first. A quick slide of his eyes to the corners, glancing out of the passenger side window. Whatever catches his attention is unknown to you. The anchor on his hand around your throat keeps you still. Immovable.

(Every instinct in your body compels you not to look away from him because nothing outside could ever be scarier, more dangerous, than him.)

A second later, he breathes in through his nose. The fabric of his mask is pulled into his nostrils from the force, forming little black holes under the crooked arch. 

You hadn't really given much thought to his appearance outside of big, massive. But there's a strange asymmetry to the slopes and valleys beneath the balaclava. Trying to map his face, fill in the blanks with just black cloth and vague, lopsided outlines, is impossible. There are too many gaps. Too many missing pieces. You can only wonder, then, what he looks like under it. 

Monstrous, you hope. 

It's just a coincidence that he looks at you the moment the thought passes, but you flinch like a naughty child getting caught doing something you shouldn't when the heavy, dour weight of his impenetrable stare is levelled at you once more. Your heart stutters. It's loud in your ears. In the truck. 

You wonder if he can hear it just as loudly as you do—

Another blink, and his gaze flickers down, settling on the gap between your lips, watching the little tremble they make with each shallow hiccup of air you greedily suck in. His head tilts to the side, eyes never leaving your mouth even as he leans down, masked lips brushing over the beading sweat gathering on your hairline. 

It's a brief touch. A taste. You tremble when he pulls back, fingers tightening around your flesh. 

His eyes are lavascapes.  

“Are you, birdie?” 

You almost forget what he's asking. The conversation hidden between the scant beats it took for him to measure your worth with the blistering intensity of his stare, and the tumult of your feelings still looping around each other in your belly. Knotting up tight into a ball. There's fear, of course there is. 

But the rest—

You'd rather not think about. 

The grip on your throat eases just enough for you to shake your head no to whatever he is asking. Doing anything funny, you think, scrambling at the tangle of memories flipping past, trying to connect the pieces to a puzzle you've already forgotten. 

It must be the right response. Or maybe it's another question like before, a test where there’s no right answer. 

Run, stay. 

Smart and stupid. 

But it seems to appease him—marginally. His eyes crease. Tightening. His other hand folds over your throat, sliding until his palms kiss the sides of your neck in a near-perfect symmetry. 

Something frissons across the blank, placid lake of his expression. Another ripple. A shudder. He leans in for a moment, nose touching the apple of your cheek, and when he breathes in, it’s sharp, reedy. Cold air ghosts over your skin. Long, pale lashes flutter when you swallow. 

He hums quietly under his breath before peeling back. The flatness to his gaze is back; a cold, impenetrable distance widening like a chasm as he uncoils around you. You almost fall for this—this indifference. An icy nonchalance. But you've been eating the minuscule quirks of him just as ravenously as he's been devouring yours. 

There is something there. A fracture, maybe. A splinter. 

But what leaks through from the other side isn't anything close to warmth. It's—

Hunger. 

The shift in your throat draws his molten gaze to your neck, still wrapped tight in his firm grip. Your reflection blooms in the vat of black; eyes wide, all white. Pupils narrowed to a pinprick. Mouth slack, corners tugging downward from the pressure of his hand. The tilt of your head. His thumbs press under your chin, pushing you back further until it feels like your neck might break—

He stops. Shifts. You puff out a shallow breath. 

What looks back at you is unremarkable in the murk. A sliver of fear. A slip of unease.

Eye of the beholder, you think when his breath chuffs out shallowly through the mask. When that hunger is ground down to a raw, esoteric fissure hairlining the black of his eyes. The widening expanse of his pupil. 

You wonder if it's your fear that itches under his skin, dredging up something predatory in his hindbrain. The urge to chase. To bite. 

But the nearly indiscernible flicker of his gaze has you brushing that idea aside when it snags on the expanse of his hand coiled around your throat. Easily swallowing it whole with just his palms. 

You're not a small thing, but the indomitable size of him makes you feel insignificant. 

You think he feels it, too. 

His fingers flex over your nape, stretching. Pulling. It pushes the flat of his palm into your throat, ridges crushed against your trachea. But you can still breathe. It's shallow. Hoarse. A touch painful. Dizzying in a way that makes you feel like you're on a rollercoaster. A teacup ride that just spins and spins and spins—

The gap closes. A sliver of air snakes down your throat. Muscles flexing, shifting. Struggling to swallow around the pinch of his hand. A harrowing task when you feel the gloved fingers link to the first, then the second knuckle, tying together in a too-tight, impossible, noose around your neck. Thumbs overlap. Fingers slide into place. It forms a chain of his hands with no gaps between them. Not a single sliver of skin shows from under the leather of his gloves. 

He makes a sound when they meet—a nasal groan in the back of his throat, mouth clenched shut so the air has no choice but to tear through his nose. It's raw. Fractured. The devastating moan of a tiger nuzzling at its meal. 

Your vision blurs. A black fog presses into the edges, seeping over the arch of your peripherals. Dripping down slowly over the hazy smear of the man. The way the ochre sun peeks over the angular roof of the accountant's office illuminates his back and casts swaths of shadows over his front. Drenching him in murk. 

Despite the flickering darkness shuttering over your sight, you don't blink. Even as the tears prickle at your eyes, they stay open. Fixed on him. Black holes, you think, watching as the fever marbling those obsidian pools recedes. Cools. 

He makes that noise again. Softer this time. A purr from deep in his chest. A breath. And then he peels back. His hands go slack. His shoulders slumping back into the lax, easy spread from before as you gasp hard, nearly choking on the flood of air that roars down your throat. 

Your cheeks feel hot for a moment, and then cold. Icy. You don't have to touch them to know that you're crying. That the deluge clinging to your lashline spilt over, dripping messily to the collar of your shirt. 

The placid lake is back. In the stillness, you heave. Mouth hanging open, chin quivering. His thumb lifts, slides over the curve of your chin. You don't feel it. Numbed, maybe, by the brief kiss of hypoxia. But you see it. Watch as he slides it up to the jut of your lower lip, the black, angular tip tickling over your skin. He follows the seam between skin and lip, tracing it to the corner of your mouth. It's slick. Drool pools in the crease, dribbles over the top of his finger. His eyes drop when he mops it up, catching it on the pad. 

He makes another noise. An arid rasp bubbling between the soft tissue behind the roof of his mouth and the back of his tongue. It's ugly. The shiver you try to fight back slinks through. 

His hand peels away from your neck, movements lax. Slow. The unwinding gait of an idling tiger in no real rush, no hurry, because there's nothing in the frigid Arctic that can touch him. 

You watch him with flared eyes as he brings his thumb to his clothed mouth, and rubs your spit into the fabric of his mask. 

His eyes don't break away from yours once. 

Your spit doesn't stand out against the black of balaclava, but the idea of it burns through you. Throwing you headfirst into a dazed stupor. Dizzy. Confused. 

Satisfied with whatever it was supposed to mean, he clambers out of the truck before coming around to your side. Distantly, you're sure this is what he meant by funny ideas when he passes the headlight, head straight and eyes gliding around the empty street. An opening to run. You know where you are. It would be easy to flee. Hide in the construction zone just ahead, tucking yourself into the tightest corner you can find until help arrives. 

Help, though. 

Officer, please. I got caught selling meth in the mob's territory and now they're going to skin me alive. Please hurry—

Right. 

They'd rather help bury your body than get in the way of the mafia. Gangland violence isn't their concern unless it tumbles out into the street. Fat wallets keep even the most compassionate person quiet. Willing to turn a blind eye. 

You'd be thrown in a cell. Or dropped off at their doorstep. 

Either way—

You won't be coming back alive. 

There's nothing to steel, harden, when he pulls the door open, your nerves long since ground down to fine powder. Nothing to fight against, either. He hauls you out of the truck, hands firm on your skin. Bursting blood vessels easily between his fingers. Barely any effort at all to crack your bones. 

The moment in the car seems miles away when he pulls you in front of him, hand curling over your nape. Any flicker of humanity rendered out when he pinches you tight and shoves you forward. Dragging you back to the butcher shop by the scruff of your neck, leading you down a narrow set of stairs to the basement where pale white carcasses hang from hooks on the ceiling. He laughs when you tense. When your heels dig into the brown-stained linoleum. 

Ain't gonna hang you, he mocks, fingers dipping punishingly into the sides of your neck. “Not yet, anyway—”

It brings little comfort when he drags you to a room in the back, kicking open the door with the toe of his boot before pushing you inside with a nudge against your nape. 

It's dark. Walls covered in stains; mould, mildew. Something you hope is just rust. A single mattress is shoved into the corner; sheets stained with sweat and grime. Tinged a pale brown. Two pillows sit at the top, lopsided and matted with use. Threadbare. A twisted, black heap of fabric sits at the bottom. Wisps of cotton poke out from the cigarette burns. 

A pair of muddy, black boots sit against the wall at the end of the bed. A basket of clothes—jeans, black shirts, black sweaters—is piled on the wall across from the door. 

The room smells of stale sweat and old cigarettes. 

You don't want to be here. The thought is abrupt. Immediate. Unease prickles along your nape, warmed and damp under his gloved palm. Between the look of the room—the floors stained the same suspicious brown, the rumpled bed in a corner—and the smell, you know this is not a place you want to stay. To be trapped inside with a man cut from Everest; whose hands are more dangerous than the sharp end of a knife. 

He must feel the tension brimming beneath your skin; the spark of adrenaline surging through your veins. The clamp of his hand on your nape digs in tighter. Holding firm. 

A breath tumbles out, thickening with mockery. “Like I said,” he leans down, pressing the mountainous width of his chest into your spine. The accentuation in your size difference, how big he is in comparison to you, makes you feel like prey. Small. Brittle, thin. He eats you whole. Spares nothing for later. “I wouldn't do that if I were you.” 

Another nudge and you're pushed further into the room. He leans away, foot shoving back on the door until it snaps shut with a noise that cuts through the gossamer that spun around you, bifurcating reality from dream. The haze is wafted away, and all that remains is a barren room with a lumpy mattress, the smeared stain of rotten blood coagulating on the floor, and his body boxing you in. No escape. 

The rumble of his chest shakes loose the cobwebs spooling across your thoughts. A brush of humid air ghosts along the line of your jaw, dampening the skin below your ear as he leans in close, too close, and purrs: 

“Go on now. Strip for me.” 

Each scrap of clothing you slowly roll off of your body is exchanged for a slip of information about him—who he is (Simon Riley, the name rumbled through the split between his teeth; a low, brassy purr as his eyes gleam in the dark, drilling into the expanse of skin unveiled to him)—and what he wants—

Nothing, he tells you, lifting one massive shoulder up in a half-hearted shrug. Jus’ what's owed to me, pet. For stickin’ my neck out f’you. 

You don't think he did. Not really. But you're harshly reminded of the unsubtle threat. The gun balanced on his massive thigh. So wide, so big, it seems to make it look smaller in comparison. Tiny. A toy. 

Child's play. 

It's made worse, somehow, as he lounges. Sprawls out on the bed, legs spread, pulling taut on the jeans that stretch around the thickness of his upper thigh, bunching around his calves in a half-tuck inside his black boots. Arms flexing. Folded over his broad chest. He rolled the sleeves of his black shirt up to his elbow, showing off an impressive tapestry of harsh, faded black ink. Crisscrossing lines. All asymmetrical. Guns, barbed wire. A bullet with a wide, toothy grin—

All of it knits together; woven into a tangled mass of muscle. Of man, hidden under scar tissue. Rope burns on his wrists cut so deep that the skin is permanently dented in. More cigarette burns hidden inside the mess of ink. Jagged lines—from a knife, maybe; bullet wounds. 

His skin tells stories of a terrible life. Ink spills over the worst of them, but they're visible under the fading charcoal. A series of burns—acid, fire, chemical—and raw, torn skin. He looks like he's been mauled. Pressed into the cold metal of a wood chipper until chunks of flesh were taken out. But even with these deep gouges, craters of missing tissue, he's big. Bulky. Soft—like a tiger. Predatory muscle tucked away under a thick layer of fatty tissue. 

The pillowed pouch of his belly, the softness around his biceps—

It belies the danger underneath. The steel. 

But as scary as it is, it has nothing on his eyes. 

Glinting in the dim room. Dark pools of obsidian that follow each movement with an almost clinical keenness. Sharpened to a razor's edge. 

They might be pretty, you think, if they weren't so intense. So liquid. His eyes gleam like wet ink, languidly rolling along his lashline as you clumsily shed your jacket, your blouse. Shoes, socks. Pants. Until you're in nothing but your panties.

Swallowing around the influx of panic that flutters like little birds beating their wings against the soft walls of your throat, you slip your fingers into the hem, now or never, and—

And you hesitate. 

There's a difference between undressing willingly and doing so to save your life. It should spurn you on—survive, survive, survive—but you freeze at the apex. The summit is within reach. 

You know what happens when you climb it. Cross over the invisible threshold. 

What you've been trying to ignore this whole time, ever since he shoved you into the room with a huff, taking his perch on the edge of the bed, legs spread wide, but in such a terrifying state of vulnerability, nearly nude, you can't any longer. Can't avert your gaze to the stained linoleum in a thinly veiled effort to keep from glancing at the thickening bulge lying prone against his thigh. 

His—

Well. 

You knew what he wanted when he grabbed your face in his hand, squeezing your cheeks until your lips pursed, puckered for him to run his finger along the inseam. Prying your teeth apart. Rubbing his finger over your tongue, eyes dark—full; black holes pulling, tugging you in, dragging you closer to the event horizon framed in a ring of arsenic—and locked on to the sight of his gloved knuckle disappearing into your mouth. Wanting. Hungry. 

You knew. And now—

Committing to it is legions above what you’re mentally prepared for. Nausea brims, churns your stomach. Unease curdling inside of you like rotten milk. 

You don’t want this. But you don’t have a choice, do you?

That notion, the idea, prickles along your nape, raising the fine, peach-fuzz there until it stands on end. 

You freeze. Movements still as every muscle in your body tenses. Coils. You can't do it. Can't—

A huff is dragged out of his chest as he sits up, knocking the gun carelessly to the mattress. His eyes daggering, sharpening into needlepoints, as he stares at you. 

“Gotta do everything f’myself, do I?” 

A grunt and he’s up. Pulling himself to his feet with nothing but the flex of his abdominal muscles. 

There's no reprieve. Not a moment graced to gather your bearings before he crosses the distance between you. Once a comfort, a chasm, now conquered in a single stride.  

The tips of his gloves are cold when they brush over your skin, sliding down the slope of your waist until they meet the hem of your panties. The last piece of modesty you have—

But he doesn't wait.

You're aware that this isn't a non-consensual thriller where the lead looms over the hapless love interest, eyes blazing with passion and need. That each interaction is drenched in a thick, palpable tension tethering the two together. Urges coalescing. Threads pulling taut, magnetic, dragging them closer and closer to the brink until they tumble over. 

This is reality. And he doesn't stare into your eyes with an all-consuming desire as he slowly removes that last scrap of fabric keeping him from devouring you. No. 

His skin-warmed fingers push under the elastic band with a rough shove, curling into the fabric until it tightens across your pelvis and thighs, and then he huffs, annoyed, and pulls. Pulls—

Until something gives. 

The lace yields to the tension in his flexing bicep, and scrapes over your skin as it rips apart in his hand, threads snapping. Popping. 

It hurts. Stings. You hiss, but the noise is ignored when he peels the ruined scrap of fabric from your legs, shoving it into his back pocket with a grunt of satisfaction. He looks back to you, eyes rippling like the dark, ink-black surface of a lake during nightfall, and coos, mocking and mean—

“Not s’hard, was it?”

He leans closer to you, a hand skimming up your spine before his fingers curl around your nape, keeping you still for just a breath before he pulls you into him with too much force. Your hands lift, palms slapping against his thick stomach when the movement nearly topples you over and threatens to break your nose on his chest.

“Makin’ me do all the work when y’supposed t’be payin’ me back? Ain't very nice o’you, is it?”

He touches you like he's taking stock of your worth. Grabbing a heavy, rough palmful of your beast in his hand, squeezing. Testing the weight, the softness, how supple you were between his fingers like he might with a piece of fruit. Meat. Prodding into the flesh, feeling the ripeness there. Gauging whether or not it was a piece he wanted to keep. 

It's demeaning. Humiliating. He treats you like cattle; presses into the elasticity of your muscle, examines every inch of your skin for blemishes. Scouring for imperfections. There's no softness in the way he grabs handfuls of your body—squeezing your breasts, pushing them together, rolling your nipples between his thumb and forefinger; pinching your belly, your sides, your waist; curling his fingers under your thigh, lifting it until it hitches over his waist, cunt exposed and pressed tight to the bulge trapped in his jeans. Your ass is handled rougher than the rest. Each cheek sitting in a hand, squeezed and punched and spread embarrassingly wide. 

He ruts into you as he does it. Pushes the thick, fat length of him into your belly, rolling his hips against you with a heavy, ragged puff of air. 

He feels big. 

Everywhere, of course—it’s not so much his height, but the absurd width of him that really digs into your hindbrain, crossing all those intricate wires until they're tangled up, knotted together. Seeing his thigh, the same scale as a tree truck, slotting between yours—a mere branch by comparison—makes your belly flop. Turn over itself.

The muddled wires spark. Heat pools between your hips.

He could crush your head between them like a bear pushing its paw down on a watermelon. 

It's fear and heat. 

The two work in tandem, forming a seamless cohesion, as they flit down your spine, brimming up the urge to sink to your knees, the need to roll over and show your belly. A paradoxical desire to both run and be chased. 

You're not sure if he's tendering your meat to eat later or if this is the usual type of foreplay he engages in, but once satisfied you're softened up enough for him, he shoves his fingers between your thighs with an abrasive hum that reverberates through his belly, tickling your palms. 

“Tired o’waitin’,” is what he says when your head jerks up, eyes widening in shock. Terror. Horror. “Don't look so surprised,” he huffs, dryly. Voice a rough scrap over your cheek. “What'd y’think was gonna ‘appen?”

“Wait—” but he doesn't. 

His fingers twist, pushing through your folds to graze your clit. It isn't gentle. It's sudden, quick. You gasp more from shock than pleasure; the rough slide of leather feels strange on your flesh, and your head is too muddled to separate fear from bliss.  

Despite that, your body heats. Reacts to his touch. Your lower lip wobbles. You bite back another sound that crawls up your throat when his knuckle catches on your clit again, the pressure just shy of too much. 

The burn, the fever, melts the unease. Shallow gasps spill out. Your cunt clenches, fluttering around nothing—throbbing, growing sticky, slick; achy and empty—when he starts to glide his digit between your folds. Little sawing motions drag each groove and stitch of his gloves over your pebbled clit, each thrust of his hand between your thighs making heat pool between your hips. It's done so clinically, so detached, like his hand rubbing over your leaking pussy was nothing to him. An action to get done, a task to complete. 

It's the shame of that, the embarrassment, that makes you want to weep. Your fingers dig into his chest, nails pulling uncomfortably on the pleated bumps of his jacket as you grip the fabric right between your fists, clinging to him like a newborn fawn—all wet-nosed, teary-eyed; knobbly knees threatening to buck. 

“S–stop—” you mewl when the monotonous rhythm melts into something harder, more intense. Heart thudding in your chest, heat burning you up as he turns his hand, palm up, between your sticky, shaking thighs. He rubs his hand back and forth, curling his middle finger up when he passes your hole, tip pushing against your leaking rim. 

The friction aches. The stretch stings. The leather feels strange, foreign when it pries your folds apart and dips inside of you. 

You don't like it. It's too much—

He makes a sound—a tut—when you pull away from him, standing on the tips of your toes until the blunt curve of his finger slides out of you. He sucks his teeth in a mockery of disappointment before digging his fingers, hard, into the sides of your neck. A warning. You whine. Whimper—

It goes unheeded. And when you press your thighs tight together, shivering at the slip-slide of your skin rubbing against each other, he growls. The noise is inhuman. Animalistic. 

Your act of deviance comes with a swift, bruising punishment. 

His fingers tighten on your neck once again. A warning squeeze as he reaches down with his other hand, grabbing your hip. It keeps you still, immobile, as he bullies his boot between your feet, kicking your legs apart. You're not expecting it. When you stumble, he huffs in amusement. Can't hold yourself up? Want me that bad, huh? Needy fuckin' thing, ain't you?

You don't get a chance to respond. His palm splays wide over your hip, leather creaking as he flexes, stretching his fingers out, tapping some soundless beat out against your skin. Touching you like he's owed the privilege. The right. And in many ways—

Go’ a problem, you an’ I

—he does. 

Brute strength, and an unmatched, almost laughable, dearth in your physicality ensures that he has the upper hand—even without the gun he left on the mattress; darker and flat, a full matte compared to what you were expecting. 

(They're always so shiny in movies, aren't they?)

The threat of it—dull as it might be—roots you to the spot as he slides his hand down, thumb brushing over your belly button, dipping in; pressing until your stomach starts to ache—

It peels away when the whine wells up, sloping down, down. Teases your mound with the tips of his fingers, gentle swipes along the sensitive seam of your belly and pelvis, the sensation is an odd tickle that pulls at your navel, pulses at the apex of your thighs. You mewl—a slow, soft thing that barely makes it out from between your teeth—and he lets his hand drop. Palm flat against the soft flesh of your mons, fingers reaching, spreading, until they curl over your folds. Index and ring finger tucked tight into the hollow bend of your pelvis and thigh. The tip of his middle rubs gentle strokes over the skin above your clit. It's a whisper of pleasure. The idea of a touch. 

Mindless, your hips flit, following his hand—

“Needy.” 

It cows you. Douses you in icy shame. There's barely any mockery in his even, observant tone, but you feel it unfurl over your shoulders all the same. 

He doesn't give you a moment to think, to let the ripples of humiliation take over, forcing you to pull away, hide. His fingers trail over your hood, the pebble of your clit. The sensation, the cool undertone in the leather of his glove, is unlike anything you'd felt before. The thick stitches in the fabric catch on your flesh, nerve endings flaring in pleasure. Heat blooms in your belly. 

It feels good. 

You gasp, head tipping back. His hand winds around your waist when your knees buckle, catching you with a rasping huff—

“Feelin’ good, ain't you?” He pulls you tight to his chest, finger rubbing circles around your throbbing clit. Your cunt clenches, empty, and you whine, needing something more. Something to fill the ache inside of you—

His finger slips. Slides easily between your folds, parting your lips around the thick of him until he reaches your drenched hole. The sounds it makes when he taps his finger against your fluttering core makes your toes curl. Has heat blistering over your cheeks, down the slope of your neck. 

It makes him groan. The low growl makes you throb, clenching in needy little pulls, pulses, as his finger dips into the slick dripping out of you. 

“Suckin’ me in,” he grunts, and pushes his finger inside, thrusting up to the last knuckle. Palm tapping against your folds as his index and ring finger close to give him more room to sink deeper into you. The messy, slick squelch is loud, rolling over the mewling gasps that tumble from your lips. 

Heat floods your belly at the belly-deep groans he lets out when you squeeze around him. 

“Stranglin’ my fuckin’ finger, birdie—” 

He leans down, knocking his forehead against the side of your face. It's more intimate than you were expecting. Jarring. The proximity plays a twisted game inside your head—the urge to run, to roll over coalescing into a paralyzing tailspin. Rooting you to the ground when the warm, damp knit of his mask grazes your cheek. 

The intimacy of his head on yours is eclipsed when you can feel the shape of his mouth through the fabric. 

It's softer than you expected. A plush, fleshy give when he presses his lips against your skin. And—

A gap.

On the side of his mouth, there's a gouge. A pockmark. You feel the gap, the absence, of his flesh when he rolls it over your cheekbone. You try to read the asymmetry of his face—mapping all of these misshapen parts; his mauled lips, the crooked nose that digs into your skin and leaves behind a tacky smear of condescension when he breathes out through his nostrils in a heavy puff of air—and convince yourself that you're doing it so you can bring these patchwork pieces to the police later. 

Survival, you think, your head tilting back as he noses down your neck, tickling along your skin. 

(And when your cunt flutters around the rough, thick drag of his finger petting along your walls, you add: a bodily reaction. That's all it is.)

He takes another lungful of your scent before he rocks back on his heels, pulling away from you. Straightening up. Looming above you once more. 

“Now—”

He pulls his finger out of you slowly and you try not to whimper at the empty feeling that brims up. The way your hips rock toward him, seeking and eager. Wanting.

Needy, just like he said. 

Just a bodily reaction—

He holds his hand up to the dim light flickering over his head, fingers spreading apart as he takes in the glossy shine of his middle finger. 

The gleam of it makes your ears feel hot. Shame pools in your belly as he makes another noise—a groan, deep and low, in the back of his throat. Eyes darkening as his pupils bloom, eclipsing his irises in an endless pool of black. They flicker toward you, listing half-mast in a way to leonine, so predatory, that it shudders through your bones. Run, run—

His hand flexes around your waist when you twitch. A warning. A threat. You tremble when he leans in, masked lips brushing over your cheek once more. Breath ghosting through the fabric, tickling the inside of your ear. 

He smells of war. Of fire and brimstone. Napalm and nitroglycerine. You want to close your eyes, look away, but you can't. His proximity alone roots you to the spot. Turns you into a prey animal, frozen on instinct alone as he prowls around, creeping closer. Maw stretching wide, drooling dripping off razor-sharp canines—

“Let's see if y’worth all the trouble.” 

—and he bites.

Knocks his palm into your sternum, roughly shoving you down on the mattress.

His hands fall to the button of his jeans. “Ready?” He asks, but doesn't seem to care about your answer. Opts, instead, to fall to his knee beside you. It pulls on his zipper, tugs it all the way down with a sharp, metallic sound that cuts through the stagnant air as each ring of teeth is pried apart. 

You can't help it. You look. Dragged there by something primal, magnetic—the morbid curiosity to see the monster for yourself as it tries to take a bite. 

And almost immediately, you wish you hadn't. 

The spread of pale skin, dark curls jutting out from the split of his jeans, makes everything feel more real, and moving fast. Whiplash quick. Happening in a blink:

The shift of fabric as he pulls the mask up over his lips, letting rest on the crooked bridge of his nose. A flash of his mouth, mangled. Mauled. Full of ugly, pale pink scars. A gap where tissue once knit his upper lip together. The bite of crooked teeth as he brings the sticky, wet tip of his glove to his mouth, sinking in. Pulling. Tugging. The roll of skin—a rose, a gun, a skull—all encased in barbed wire; thick rivers of blue-green veins. 

Another pull and it's free. Dangling between his teeth for a moment as he reaches up and shoves the jacket off his shoulders. Rolling and thick. Wide. A broad chest. Soft belly. There's an inch of flesh around the expanse of him—biceps, thighs, calves, chest, stomach, shoulders—but it's a buffer for the corded, streamlined muscle beneath. A layer of fatty tissue. 

Like a tiger, hiding its dizzying musculature beneath a thick, loose pelt. 

When he moves, it flexes. His shoulders roll; muscles bunching together, pulling taut under soft skin. The jacket slides off. Falls to the ground behind the mattress. Forgotten, discarded. The glove is next to go. Dropping from between his teeth, landing just beside your ankle with a muted thud. 

He follows after it. Ink spilling over his lashline as his eyes drop, staring at the roll of his skin tucked on the outside of your thigh. Trailing up to your knee. Your hip. The split of your cunt beneath your other leg; knee tucked to your chest. 

A flash of something, a flicker, is the only warning you get before the back of his hand is nudging the glove off of your skin, replacing it with the rough, calloused grip of his palm. 

You jerk at his touch, flinching back—

He's intimidating above you like this. Leaning back on his haunches but still as tall as you are standing up. The sheer absurdity of his height—his width—is dizzying. Gives you vertigo when you look up. 

His throat shifts when you move. A swallow. Coarse stubble grows down the column of his neck, dusting over his lower jaw, chin. The rest is swallowed by the balaclava bunched around his crooked nose. 

He's not—

He's not handsome. 

A smattering of crisscrossing scars, burns, skin pocked and gouged out in deep pockets along his flesh—the slide of a knife carving away at him, you think; digging down to his marrow—all take away from any sense of modern attractiveness you might feel for him with his broad, jagged nose and full lips. 

But there's something rugged about him. Untamed. Wild. Appealing in a dangerous way. 

You don't know if you would have let this happen under different circumstances. If this minacious beauty of his would have worked on you enough to want it outside of this awful, almost unfathomable trade. 

He's too big. Wouldn't even fit inside of your house—

The graze of his thumb on your angle knocks the thought loose, and you're dragged back to the heat of his hand. Rough and coarse; palms slightly damp from the glove. It tugs on your flesh as he draws it up, a rubbery sort of pain as it catches on the soft, dry skin of your ankle. Your shin. 

He follows behind a second later, pulling himself into the mattress with a huff, knees shuffling forward as he crawls over you. The jostling rocks your body. Makes your breasts shake as he lumbers on the bed, hand still sliding up, up, until his fingers curl over the bend of your knee. 

The bed dips under his weight. Your body sagging, rolling into the divot beneath his knees. Tucked under him. Loomed over. He stares down at you through the cutout of his mask, eyes liquid in the gloam. Pools of melting, dripping obsidian. Black holes. Event horizon—

You look away before it drags you in. Submissive. Softened under the harsh burn of his flat, wide stare. He chuffs when your nose brushes over the thin skin of his wrist, mouth sliding over the thick, pulsing vein stretching down from his inner arm and curling into the bend of his hand. Your lips purse, and he makes that noise again. 

Quietly amused, and—

He shuffles forward until the backs of your thighs are pulled over his, spread out on his lap. Bare. Open to him. 

And he looks. 

And looks. 

Hungry, you think. Quietly amused and hungry—

The notion is wrenched out of your head when he shifts his weight. Watches the folds of your pussy open for him as he pulls your knees wider apart, head dropping between his massive shoulders, gaze drilling into the split of your thighs. Gasping at the sting, the sudden stretch, does little to deter him from shoving your leg down until the outside of your knee touches the bed. Muscles straining. Pinching. It hurts; hipbones twinging in agony. 

But the embarrassment burning through you singes all the pain. 

You're spread open under him. Bare. Legs tangled around his waist, stretched wide around the width of him. Ankles knocking into the hard plains of his lower back each time he shifts. 

“Fuckin’ hell—” he grunts. Snarls. The word ripped up from the back of his throat, forced through the twisting channels of his nose. Nasal and ugly when it scrapes out between his teeth. “Gonna ruin this pretty pussy, birdie.”

It's a threat. A promise. You twist, mouthing your protests into the warm skin of his wrist. 

There's something about his voice—that airy, brassy tone—that strikes a chord deep inside you. Makes heat pool between your thighs, leaking out in a syrupy mess—

His hand peels away from your knee, sliding down your sticky, damp inner thigh until his knuckles graze the sensitive slip of skin sitting between your outer lip and hip. That ticklish, belly-fluttering sensation blooms in your groin as he rubs his scarred knuckles over the crease, catching the slick gathered there on his thick, meaty thumb. 

“Fuckin’ soaked,” he groans, shifting his fingers until they cover the whole of your cunt, cradling you in his hand. He holds you like that for a beat, eyes locked on the way you're swallowed up by the broad stretch of his palm. 

The rough drag of his skin over your folds feels good. An all-encompassing heat spreads over your tender flesh from the curve of your ass to the bump of your mons where his middle finger rests, almost touching the strip of skin between your loins and your belly. Held in his grasp. Cradled in his palm. 

Your thighs twitch. A shallow jerk as your knees try to bend over his hand, but you can't. With his thumb and pinkie tucking into each crease between your outer lip and leg, it keeps you from closing your legs. Hinged by the wide, flat cup of his palm. 

And it shouldn't bludgeon through you the way it does. All heat. All want. Need. A growing ache you can't think around. 

(bodily reaction, you think even as the image of his hand—big with thick fingers, scarred knuckles; streaks of faded, ashy ink etched into milky, veined skin—laying over your pussy, swallowing it whole, sears into your mind—)

“Can feel your little cunt,” he grunts, feeling the pulse, the little throbbing pulls of your muscles as they twitch at the sight. The feeling. Clenching down around nothing. “Greedy little thing, ain't you, birdie?”

Anger paints his words as he rasps them out. A teeth gnashing, jaw clenching frustration that needles into the scorn, the fury, forced out between the tight seam of his crooked teeth. 

You don't understand it. Can't, maybe. 

But it's tucked away as quickly as it appeared, shifting into an ugly, mocking derision. Dry. Acerbic. His teeth flash, lip pulling upward in a sneer—a snarl—before he hums, sliding his hand down. The drag of his damp, rough fingers over your swollen folds has your knees falling open wider around his thick thighs, baring yourself willingly to him. 

Want it bad, don't you? He mocks, and the sound of his voice alone has your pussy clenching tight, belly fluttering around the abrasive scrape of his tone. Brassy and full. Gritty. You whine, hips inching up—

His hand peels off of your slit. The rush of cold air drags another whimper out of you, hips pushing up to chase the heady, molten feeling of his skin on yours. And he's amused by it—a laugh echoes out, crackling in the hollow of his throat at your desperation—but you're too achy, too hot, to feel the simmer of humiliation nipping the apples of your cheeks. 

He's not even making a real effort to pleasure you, to make you feel good, and yet—

Your hips twitch toward him in needy, mewling cants; please sits on the tip of your tongue, cradled between your teeth. Slips out on a shaky, breathless gasp when he meets you on the next buck of your hips, palm slapping over your wet slit. 

The crack echoes through the room. Rough, dry skin on soaked flesh. 

And it shocks you more than it hurts. The sting is there, of course, but it's just an afterthought to astonishment. An eye-widening disbelief masking the way your cunt smarts, throbbing from the slap. Nerves muffled behind the burn in your eyes, the searing heat pooling in your sinuses. 

Wrenched open, unblinking as you stare up at him, your eyes begin to sting, to water. You blink, and feel something hot trickle down your cheek. A tear. His eyes snap to it. Pupils narrowing to a pinprick as he watches it slide down your face, little droplets clinging to your jaw. 

“Poor baby,” he mocks, tilting his head as he tracks the teardrop. “Better behave.” 

Behave. Like he's admonishing a child and not an adult. 

It morphs; rots. Becomes yet another thing you shouldn't feel feverish over. The slick, sticky feeling grows between your thighs as your cunt flutters at the humiliation of it all. 

And deeper—maybe—the bastardized sense of care—

(Punishment is affection in its own, special (awful) way and you've been aching for something just like it, haven't you—)

It's pushed down. Swallowed. And you know in the back of your head that if you keep eating these feelings, you're going to be sick. But you can't stop. Barely breathe around the idea of them sometimes—

“Tha’s’it,” he coos like he knows. Sees them bright and burning behind your irises. Little flickers of need, a smouldering want that you'll never grasp at yourself. 

So he gives it to you. 

The rough slide of his hand, all scarred and dry and calloused, scrapes over your slit once more. A full, flat stroke upward until your clit bumps into the ridge of his palm. Then down, down—

His fingers spread. Ring and index prying your folds apart as he pushes up once more, opening your seam to slip his middle finger through the slick, sticky mess that drips out of your burning cunt. 

“Gonna be good f’me?” 

The slide of his fingers drags the tip up to the bump of your clit. You stare down at it, fixed on the jut of his ink-black knuckles threading through your folds. The crease of his nail as he slips his fingers up higher, pad pushing over your pebbled clit. They're dirty. Grey-black under his nails. Congealed with dirt. Blood, maybe. 

Your stomach churns even as your hips lift. Eager, searching. Hating yourself each second of it. It's gross. Disgusting. 

You want his dirty, thick fingers inside of you—

“When I ask a question—” the tip circles over your clit. A shallow roll that pools heat between your thighs. “I expect an answer.” 

“Y–yes,” you stammer out, hips flexing against his hand. Seeking more of that white-hot bloom of pleasure he brings with each pass of his finger. 

“Good girl—” and you hate how it burns you up from the inside out. “Wasn't s’hard, was it?”

The retort is bitten back with the slow swipe of his finger drawing tight, small circles around your clit. His fingers are rough, scarred. Too dry. The abrasive drag over your soft sensitive flesh makes you whine—a drawn-out whimper nestled between clenched teeth. 

It's too much. 

Too harsh. Too sharp.

He rolls your clit under the pads of his fingers in jerking half-circles. Puts too much pressure on the bundle of nerves than you ever would—your touches are always soft, sickeningly sweet; gentling your flesh until you cum—and the sting, the burn, of it makes your toes curl. Body burn. 

It's good. 

And that's the problem. 

It shouldn't be. His touch shouldn't make you so wet, growing slick and sticky between your spread thighs, bare to his hungry, prying gaze. Shouldn't make you moan. Hips twitching with each stroke of his fingers—

And then he peels away from you, but the time to mourn the loss of his touch, the fear of losing this trembling ember pleasure, is snuffed out when he presses his wet, slick fingers against the inside of your knee. The touch is intentional. Insistent. He makes an impatient noise in the back of his throat before pushing it down to the mattress. The twinge of pain swallowed up as quickly as it forms when he drops to his elbows between your thighs, forearms curling under your legs, and tugs you sharply into him. 

Heat floods your belly when the backs of your thighs press tight to his broad, muscular shoulders, but it's nothing compared to the sight of him on his knees between your legs. It's so obscene you nearly weep—

And then he leans down and licks a long, broad swipe of his tongue over your cunt. 

You hadn't expected it, maybe. His mouth on your pussy, his broken, jagged lips sealing over your pebbled clit. Going down on you seemed too intimate for what he was after. His end goal. It does nothing for him at all—

You realise your mistake when he dips his tongue into your hole and his hips jerk forward. Unconscious. Eager. Seeking. The shifting drags his jeans down his hips, and his cock slips free. 

Most of the cocks you've seen—in porn, pictures, art—jut out from the person's groin. standing at attention, the nasty comments used to say. Jokes whispered on the playground. But his falls. Droops down between big, folded thighs. Skin marbled in shades of red, peach. Deep gouges dot his upper thighs, some sinking deep enough to reach bone. More scar tissue than flesh. 

—than man.

It looks raw. Fresh. Some injuries not too dissimilar to the Wagyu hanging in the front of the storeroom, on display and oh, so out of place in a town where the richest man must be just a hair above the poverty line. 

On paper, anyway. 

You swallow, avoiding his gaze as he pauses, dark eyes watching you with his mouth pressed against your seam. Unmoving. Still as a predator between your thighs, cock visible between the bow of his torso, jutting sickeningly from mangled legs as you gawk at this hideous thing that makes several, half-hearted attempts to spring up towards you, spitting clear, milky liquid all over with each jerk. Tugged down by its own weight. Too heavy to fight against gravity like the rest of the cocks you've seen have done—

Normal cocks, you amend. Textbook. 

His is anything but. 

Ugly, you think again, stomach churning. Roiling. Obscene. An odd thing considering what you're looking at but all too fitting with the way it droops, big, flared head drooling pre-cum all over the bed in long, dangling stands that prickle over your jaws—half nauseous, half hungry, too. Saliva pools in your mouth even though the sight of his cock scares you. Fills your belly with dread. Misery. 

It looks like a bruise. Skin smeared with purples, reds. Patches of pink. Long, thick veins run up from the fattened, full base to the divot of his frenulum. Thick. It hangs low. Drips. 

He raises slightly and shoves his hand down between his thighs, big hand curling over the fat base of his cock. His grip is tight around himself, and he strokes up, from base to tip. It squeezes more precum from the flushed, fat head, and dribbles between your spread thighs in a thick, pearlescent puddle. 

It makes your mouth dry. That twinge in your jaws coming back. Festering. You wonder if he'll make you take that thing in your mouth. Choke you on it. Taste his precum—

“Fuck,” he snarls into your cunt, hand jerking over his cock. “Keep lookin’ at my cock like tha’, birdie—”

You gasp at the rough grunt, the way it seems to tremble through your sensitive flesh. More, though, from the way he sounds. His voice brassy, rough. Unkind, but the words bloom a fresh heat behind your navel. 

His voice does things to you. Things you're not allowed to like. 

Those thoughts are knocked from your head when he bows down again, eyes still fixed on you, and seals his wicked mouth over your cunt. It's hard to compare it to anything else other than being devoured. Eaten in the truest sense of the word. 

His tongue splits down your seam, tip digging into your slick hole. A groan bubbles up at your taste—the soft, fluttering clench of your body trying to drag him in deeper. Needing him deeper. A huff of air ghosts over you, dipped in the same derision as earlier but the harsh slap of skin on skin, his hand working furiously over his cock, makes you acutely aware of how much this affects him. 

“Taste good, birdie,” he grunts, and then sucks your fold into his mouth, laving it with his tongue and teeth until the skin is tender, swollen. “S’fuckin’ good—”

Your breath catches when the crooked arch of his nose presses taut to your clit. Pleasure twisting in a dizzying pirouette inside your belly, winding tighter and tighter—

His nose jerks up on your clit. Lips moulded to your seam, you hear him rasp eyes on me, birdie. Don't fuckin’ look away—

The rough snarl trembles through your body, sinking its teeth into the coil until it snaps under its jaw. Your knees snap around his head as your release locks your joints tight. His name, Simon, a hoarse cry on your lips. You barely have time to bask in the ripples of pleasure throbbing through your body before he rips away from you with his teeth bared, and his chin wet. 

“Fuck—!” he snarls again, shoving your knees apart as he lifts his massive body up from between your thighs. “Gonna fuck you, birdie. Gotta be inside your tight cunt—”

He towers over you, grinding his cock into the apex of your thighs. The drag of his cock—a little damp from being stuck inside his jeans all day; balmy—against the dry skin of your belly makes you shudder. Shivering beneath him as he huffs through the mask. Head bowing. Dipping to look at the way his cock slaps down on you. Cockhead nudging above your belly button, dribbling a small puddle of pre-cum that gets smeared into your skin when he rocks back on his haunches. 

His hand wraps around the thick base of his cock once more, squeezing tight as he grips himself above you. It makes the head swell, engorged with blood. Thickening in his hand as globs of pre-spend leak out onto your belly. That feeling in your jaws comes back—nauseous and wanting. 

He leans back with a hum. “Like my cock, eh, birdie?” 

The crass words bring a fresh bloom of heat simmering in your veins, creeping up your collar. Like doesn't really cover what you feel when you stare at it—his inked hands running along the long, veined shaft—and the unsettled feeling in the pit of your belly rears when he nudges forward, the weeping head of his cock bumping your mound. 

It's humiliating how much want floods through you just looking at it. At him. Disgust, dread, desire. 

You don't answer. Not that you really need to—

Your silence is loud enough. 

“Don’t worry,” he murmurs, the rasp thick in his throat. “M’gonna give it to you, pet—”

And he does just that. Slips the head of his cock down the slope of your mound, letting it graze your clit until you're panting, whining softly for more, and pulls it over your slit until his pre-cum is smeared over your drenched folds. You know exactly what this is even without glimpsing the ugly burn of his possessive desire smouldering in the back of his eyes—ownership. Greed. Hunger. It revels in the stain on your skin, from belly to slit; his, all his. Outside and soon—

In. 

It shocks a creeping sense of worry into you. “Wait, what about a condom—”

He snorts, ugly and caustic. “What about ‘em?” He taunts, and it's flat. Playful. 

“You should—”

He drags his gaze away from the pearlescent smear of his spend on your folds, your clit, and the even, placid look in that stagnant lake tells you everything you already knew. 

“I've never—” you start, wincing at the kernel of fear lacing your hoarse words. “Not without a condom—”

It's the wrong thing to say. Near cataclysmic. He drops his head back with a groan that rumbles out of the slope of his throat, sounding like the rip of a chainsaw. 

“Firsts for everything,” he purrs, and he nudges your entrance with the bare, weeping tip of his cock. 

“But—”

His hand lifts, catching your jaw in the too-wide span of his palm. The force makes your teeth clack together. 

“Need me to gag you, birdie?” 

You swallow. It's not much of a choice. Gagged and fucked raw, or—

Just fucked raw. 

No gag. No condom. You fight back a shiver and wish it was all just from fear. 

“No,” you murmur, like you have a choice. “No gag.”

“An’?” 

“Um. No–no condom, either—”

It's not enough. "What are you gonna let me do to this pussy, birdie?"

You know what he wants. What he's angling for. But there's a line, you think. A delineation between unwilling participant, coercion, and giving into the need that slinks down your spine, and rots inside your belly.

(Being forced to ask for it isn't permission, but what happens when you want it more than your next breath?)

The shame can come later, you think, and feel yourself give in. 

"Cum—cum inside me—"

“Good girl, birdie.” 

You hate what that does to you. How eagerly your body reacts to the dark possessive curl in his eyes when you do something he likes. 

He nudges your entrance again, this time with purpose. Intent. A heavy pressure pushing on your rim. Too tight, you think, and the sting of the first inch he feeds—forces—into you burns, pulsing behind your navel. His tip isn't even in yet, and it's already too much. 

You think about telling him so, offering up your mouth instead, but he leans down on his forearms, and catches your lips in a bruising, biting pantomime of a kiss. A blood-soaked parody with more teeth and tongue—sinking into your lips, nipping hard until the skin splits; catching all that spills with his tongue. 

With his weight pressed against you like this, there's nowhere to run when he cups your throat in his hand, winding the other up above your head, forearm tight on your crown to cage you in. And then he shifts. Bears his hips down on yours until the fat head of his cock pops inside of you. 

Your squeal is chewed up between his teeth, swallowed down with a rumbling groan. 

Caught beneath him, trapped, he works himself into you demanding, heavy thrusts. Each inch burns more than the last. A stinging stretch that brings tears to your eyes. It's already too much and it's not even half. Barely even the tip.

“Can't—” you slur into his wet, demanding mouth. “No more. I–I can't—”

The breath rushes out between his teeth. Your watery eyes drop to the divot above his canine. A permanent snarl. A condescending sneer. 

“You can,” he says decisively, words ground out from between crooked teeth. He presses them to your cheek, nipping at the skin under your eye. Possessive and wanting—

(Hungry for something you can't name—)

“And you will.” 

—Or maybe you just don't want to. Can't look at the thunderous need draped over his mangled, battered face without thinking of the rumble in your chest that echos back against his thundering call—)

Stupid, foolish thing—

The dark promise of his words isn't a threat until his hand tightens around your neck, nails grazing your skin, and he adds, all of me, birdie as he grinds his hips into yours shallowly. Broad chest expanding with each ragged inhale. Cementing his taunt with a steel edge as you try not to come undone beneath him. 

You'll take every fuckin’ inch—

He pulls back until only his glands stretch you open, and you know what's coming when his fingers grip the sides of your neck tight. Holding on. Anchoring you to the bed as he nudges his forearm tighter between your skull and the wall, a protective hold. 

Before you can tense up, bracing for it, or even cry out no, please, don't, you can't take it, he huffs, and then slams his hips forward, splitting you open on the fat stretch of his thick, too heavy cock. 

Maybe it's hysteria, delirium, but the blunt press of his length against your tender, sore walls balms the ache, the sting. The deeper he pushes, the less it hurts. A paradox that leaves you whimpering under his hand, heels digging into the broad stretch of his waist as you struggle to decide if you want to kick him away or pull him closer. 

A war you don't have the power to win when he surges forward, burying himself to the hilt with a growl that shakes the fragile tendons surrounding your heart. Fear, misery. Pleasure, pain. It admixes. Coalescing into a dizzying sense of fullness, unbearable pressure. Catastrophic in its heaviness as your mind reels, struggles to come to terms with the gut-wrenching, heart-aching uncertainty of how you're supposed to go on without having him seated as deep inside of you as he can get. You've never known emptiness before him. Before now. Mere seconds ago. 

And now, the thought of it leaves a palpable hollowness itching behind your ribs. Festering. Rotting tissue and bone. 

“Simon,” you choke, sobbing his name out under the firm press of his hand. “Simon—”

But he knows. 

His arm curls over your head like a crown, and you can easily forget the pinch of each thorn when he holds you tight. Protectively. Possessively. Securing you in his arms before he lifts up, palm sliding over the mattress, touch tender against your cheeks, and then settles it on the indent of your knee. Widening you for him as he spreads his thighs under yours until you're opened up for him. 

Those dark eyes are dragged down to the split of your legs where his cock disappears into your slick, swollen cunt. You follow it down, gazing at the impressive width of his stomach bowing over you until they land on the jut of skin pushing out from a messy smatter of damp curls around the base of his cock. 

The coarse hair of his groin unfurls as it sticks to your wet lips, and he rolls his head back over his shoulders he heaves through the too tight stretch of your walls over his length. You feel the pulse of him inside of you, thudding like a heartbeat. It blooms molten under the feverish weight of his lidded, dark gaze. 

“Fuck, birdie,” he rasps, and it's scorched. Charred. “Look at you—”

As the world is condensed, narrowed down to nothing but the near impossible stretch of his cock seated as deep inside of you as he can get, he leans down, scarred, mangled lips brushing cruelly over your ear, and whispers, see? Told you'd take me. 

Every fuckin’ inch. 

Your hand jerks to your belly, fingers dancing over your navel as if to feel him there, bulging from under your skin. Nearly hysterical as you try to come to terms with the pulsing, white-hot ache of him inside of you, slowly acclimating to his girth, his length. 

He grunts when he sees what you're doing, eyes flaring as your fingers skirt around your navel. 

“It's—” you shudder, gasping for air. “It's too much, Simon, I can't take it—”

He rolls his hips with a groan. “m’cock too big for you, birdie?” 

His usual cadence is flat, droll, but an unmistakable sense of masculine pride, a deep, egotistic sense of satisfaction, drapes itself over his brassy words. Glueing to the scorching rasp of his voice in a way that makes you unerringly certain that he likes it. Likes that his cock is too big for you. That it hurts. 

“Y’can take it,” he prompts, forcing more of himself into you until something snaps. Splits. Makes room. Carves out a space for him to fit. 

The brief flash of pain is soothed when he's seated deep. That same paradoxical balm making itself known as he flattens his hips into yours with a noise—half a grunt, or a growl; a lazy, pleasure-soaked snarl. You're not sure what it is, but the sound knocks the air from your lungs, igniting inside of you like a spark inside a tinderbox. 

It's only when his balls are flush against you that the same masculine pride brims up again. Primal. Animalistic. The urge to present your soft belly rears up suddenly, and it's only stifled when he grunts again, looking down at you with lidded, black eyes. 

“Now, be good and let me fuck your tight cunt.”

He's not looking for assent. Nothing you could say at this moment will sway his mind one way or the other. There's a nasty spool of determination welling up like blood on a pricked finger. Beading up to the surface in a clean, neat droplet as he rolls his broad shoulders, and shuffles into a comfortable position on his haunches between your spread thighs. The motion jostles his cock in a way that makes your breath hitch with each jerk. 

It's not painful. Not particularly. But you're overwhelmed by the sensation of utter fullness in a way you've never experienced before. Each grind of his cock against your overly stretched walls deeping that incipient feeling of anxiety brewing in your belly that one wrong move and you'll tear. He's just—

Too big. 

And despite his claims—or rather, in spite of them—you don't think you can do it. Don't think you can take him. It's too much. It feels like being turned inside out and then put back into place. An uneasy sense of discomfiture blooms with each too-tight, too-sharp tug of his cock pulling taut on your rim. 

Almost deliriously, you think you can feel the pulse of his cock inside your goddamn throat. 

“Simon—” you start on a tremulous breath but he cuts you off with a hum. 

“Relax.” 

You can't. Can't—

“Fuckin’ hell, bird,” he rasps, leaning down suddenly until his face was pushed tight into the curve of your neck, breath shallow on your thudding pulse. “Stop squirmin’ ‘round me like tha’ or I'll cum right fuckin’ now.”

Your heart stutters. Gallops painfully in your chest. His words make you dizzy because for as much as this feeling of him, his cock, inside of you dances on a delicate precipice of being more than you can feasibly handle and somehow the most incredible thing you'd ever experienced before, you hadn't considered how he'd feel. 

Inexplicably, it pleases you. 

There's something so strange—so extraordinary—about bringing a man like him, like this, to his knees. Pleasuring him by just heaving through the white-hot stretch of his cock inside of you. Making him bury his head in your neck, groaning about how he was gonna fuckin’ bust, pretty thing, fuck—

It was a powerful feeling. 

Unwarranted, maybe. But incredible, nevertheless. 

“Fuck,” he grunts, and you feel his throat work around a thick swallow. “Gonna fuck you, birdie. Gonna fuck this pretty cunt so fuckin' hard until you beg me stop—”

And he does just that. Rears back from your neck, and settles again between your thighs—quicker this time. With an urgency that makes you whimper when his cock grinds against your walls hard enough to bruise. 

When he finally pulls out until only the flared head of his cock remains, you knot a fist into the thin pillow, clinging on, and latch the other onto his hip as if that could somehow stop the vicious promise in his eyes about poundin’ you into the goddamn mattress. There's a flash, a brief flicker of his eyes, and then he thrusts back inside of you with a grunt that makes your belly clench, and your back arch. 

True to the promises he gave, it's brutal. Violent. 

Any pleasure you feel is leached through osmosis. A tether bound around his own. 

His arm is shoved under your back, angling your pelvis up. Thighs dangling over the thick spread of his own, ass seated in his lap. He drives into you, thrusts deep—grinds his hips until your moans break into hoarse screams, whimpers. Makes your eyes roll so far back, all you see is black even when you blink your eyes up at him. 

He carves a spot deep inside of you with each delirious piston of his cock, pounding into you with brutal thrusts, and then holding tight when his balls slap against your ass. Digging the head of his cock into the seal of your womb until it aches behind your navel. Each breath feels like glass in your lungs—

“Tha’s it,” he slurs in your ear, mouth damp against your skin. “Take my cock so good, pretty birdie. Little pussy was made for it, weren't you? Tight cunt all mine—”

His gruff words tug on that tether until you're wrapped around him like a bow. Following him down this endless spiral as he slams inside of you over and over again, cooing in your ear about the sounds you made for him, pretty cunt so fuckin’ wet f’me, birdie, hear tha’? all f’me—

“Cum f'me, birdie. Want this pussy cummin’ ‘round my cock—”

“Can't—” you gasp, arching into him, desperate and needy. It rides a line between pain and pleasure; a needlepoint you wobble on. “Need—”

You try to reach down, to touch your clit, but grinds his hips into yours with a snarl. “Cum ‘around my cock, birdie.”

“Touch me—”

“Fuckin’ hell—”

It edges on too much. Pain and pleasure teetering on a knife's edge, split apart by a line the width of a razer. Looping and tangling around each other until you can't differentiate between the two. But it makes sense, you suppose, staring up at him arched above you like a black cloud of smoke. All hunger and fire. Consuming, devouring, everything in its path. A wildfire. 

Butcher, you think again when his hand wraps around your throat. A mimicry of what he did in the truck, forcing your eyes on him. Your life tucked neatly against his palm.

These hands take lives. It's what they're made for. All scarred, and thick. Scar tissue and bone. Muscle and cartilage. Meant to render meat of cattle. Slaughterhouse in the shape of a man. Consumption personified. 

But where there should be fear, all you feel is an echoing sense of hunger. Leatherbound to each other, maybe—

The look that passes over his eyes as he stares down at you, cupped in his palm, seems to fit perfectly into the fractured gaps inside yourself you try so hard to ignore. And what doesn't—

Well. 

He'll make room to fit. 

You reach up, curling your fingers around his thick wrist. His eyes flash, but he doesn't slow his thrusts. Doesn't stop. Just watches as you peel his hand away from your neck, bringing it up to your mouth. 

On his palm, there's a piece of skin that's unblemished compared to the rest of his worn, burnt hands. A strip just big enough for you to sink your teeth into. 

And you do. 

“Fuck, Birdie—!” The snarl is ripped from his throat. His thrusts grow harder, sloppier. Each bit of strength in his muscled hips and thighs is used to pound into you until your vision blacks out. It hurts. Aches. Your heels slip down, catching on the broad expanse of his lower back. And you tighten them around his waist, pulling him closer. Deeper. “Fuck, Birdie, fuckin’ cunt was made f'me, wasn’t it? So cum on my cock. Now—”

Whining, you shake your head. “Can't. I can't. I need—”

You don't get to finish. With a huff of anger, he rips his hand off of the mattress, leaning back on his haunches, and shoves his hand between your thighs, scarred fingers stroking over your pebbled clit. It's rough. Sloppy. His anger hums through his body, skewering into you as he glared down, gaze swinging like a pendulum between the split of your thighs where his cock disappears into your swollen cunt, his fingers rubbing over your clit, and back up the hand around your neck, the tears staining your cheeks. 

There's an edge to his thrusts. A viciousness in the way he pistons his hips into you. Dark eyes catching every flicker—each wince, gasp, moan, whine all meticulously catalogued and exploited. He finds the spots that make your hips jerk, twitching both toward and away from him. Angling into the ones that have your eyes rolling back into your head, drool dribbling past your slack lips as you gasp his name out into the dank, humid air. 

It smells of sweat, sex, and him. Something brutal, bloody, and dark. Rotten leaves. Charred forests after a rain shower. Dangerous. Tinged with a slight acrid, chemical stench—benzene, oxidizing iron. It drips down your throat, and drenches your lungs. Staining you from the inside out. 

And he exploits that, too. Leans in, and breathes heavily against your upper lip, your cheek. Drowns you in his scent. His sweat beads along his jaw, droplets raining down over your brow. Soaked in his essence. Unable to see, smell, or touch anything that isn't him. 

With his hand over your mouth, teeth sunk into his palm, all you can taste is him, too. Leather. Gun oil. Blood. 

The ravenous look in his eye sharpens, turning into deadly points. 

“Such a pretty fuckin' bird.” He rasps, the words shattered, mangled in the back of his throat. They carry the scent of blood when you breathe them in, and you wonder if he forced them through glass. Pushed them out with his bloody fists. 

You bite down harder in response, keening through the white-hot pain of his cock spearing deeper than before, stretching you past your limits. The taste of blood on your tongue, the rasping snarl pulled from his chest, his fingers toying with your clit, push you over the edge once more. Again and again, and again, and—

His hand peels away from your oversensitive clit, dropping down to the mattress beside your face. He follows quickly after several impossibly deep thrusts that shove you higher up on the mattress, pressing in until his balls sit flush against your ass, cockhead battering against your cervix, and he groans—deep and liquid—when he comes, spilling inside of you. Rooted deep, cock twitching, Simon drops to his elbow beside your head, smothering you under his weight as the tension in his body bleeds out. 

Your teeth stick to the divots in his hand, and the sensation of ungluing them from the wounds you gave him makes you shiver. Slowly, you roll your tongue out, chasing the drops of blood, and breathe heavily through your nose as he burrows deeper inside of you, chest shuddering over yours. 

“Fuckin’ hell,” he rasps, hips jerking into yours with a slap that echoes through the room. “Little tease, ain't you?” 

Even with his cock softening inside of you, it's still thick. Fat. Stretching you open as he yawns out above you, bloodied hand dropping down to cup your neck again, forearm resting heavily between your breasts. He raises slightly on his elbow, black eyes glinting in the shallow dark of the room. Piercing as they drill into your sweat-slicked face. 

It aches when he moves. When he presses his hips harder into yours, the muscles in your legs throb as his broad waist splits them apart. Your feet dangle, sliding uselessly down his back, over his ass, before coming to rest curled around his thighs. Melting into the mattress, tender and sore and all chewed up—

You feel like a massive contusion instead of a person. A pestle. His. 

The thought makes you shiver, and his eyes flash in triumph like he knows. 

The feeling of him pulling out of you draws a whimper from your lips. The drag on your sensitive, bruised walls is a strange mix of tender pleasure and pain. He chuckles at your mewl—dark and low; the sound of nightmares, you think. Crackling sap on charred wood. 

You try to pretend it doesn't make you shudder, but the way he hums in response dashes the feigned oblivion before it can form. All you can do is heave on the bed, and watch him through narrowed slits as he leans back on his haunches once again, head cocking to the side. His dark eyes fixed on the split of your legs. The ache in your cunt growing sharp under his molten stare. 

“Fuck,” he rasps, the shallow groan pulled out from between clenched teeth. You wonder if the mangled curse was unintentional. Ripped from his throat before he could clamp his jaws around it—a crack in the facade. A hairline splinter in the indomitable mask he wears. 

Your heart lurches. None of this makes sense, but your head is too muddled, too syrupy, to think much at all. A quandary for later when he throws you from his bed with a harsh slap on your ass and a and don't think about doing this ever again. 

But you don't think you can move. “Give me a minute,” you start on a trembling breath. “And I'll—”

His brows move but his eyes stay fixed on your sore cunt. You can feel him leak out of you, spilling on the mattress in thick globs. The sensation makes you shiver. 

“You'll what?” 

It looks like he has to forcibly tear his eyes away from you, reluctance forming a cold, angry crater between his brows. The brunt of his ire—white, burning—makes you want to supplicate yourself at his feet, roll over on your belly and show the beast you mean no harm. 

(Run, and run far—)

He huffs. “You'll what, birdie?”

It takes a minute to find your voice through all the panic clogging your throat. “I'll leave, um—”

He peels away from you with a loud, rough snort, and drops to his his elbow beside you. Hands curling possessively over your waist, fingers tight. Unyielding. 

“Not goin’ anywhere, birdie. Told you, didn't I? You're mine.” 

“I'm—”

“Go to sleep.” 

He pulls you roughly to his chest until your head is pillowed on his shoulder, and then rolls on his back, keeping you cushioned at his side. You try to move, but his arm wedges under your neck, curling over your shoulder. Trapping you to him. 

The panic wants to come now. To rage against the shackle of his embrace, to run home and scrub your skin until it bleeds. But the exhaustion collapses over it all until your eyes feel too heavy to hold open. Too painful.

As you drift, aimless and dreamless, his voice cuts through the fog. “Gotta learn ‘ow to cum with nothin’ but my cock inside of you sooner or later, birdie. Or you won't be coming at all—”

It sounds like a threat. A promise. You fall asleep with the words echoing in your head, his arm an anchor around your waist. 

He wakes up hungry. 

A gnawing in his belly pulls him from the thin doze he fell into after fucking you three more times—with your face pressed into the mattress, ass in the air for him to rut against like a beast; teetering over his hips, the spread of them too wide for your thighs to split over leaving you precariously unbalanced and shifting your weight above him as neither knee sat comfortably on the mattress; and on your belly with him crushing you to the floor under his bulk. The memory of which makes his spent cock stir, twisting limply against his damp, sticky thigh. Matted down with drying cum, sweat, the slick wetness of being buried inside your messy cunt. 

Filled now with his cum. 

He groans low in his throat as he thinks about it. The sloppy way you let him take you over and over again until you couldn't keep your eyes open anymore, passing out before he finished. Letting him fuck his cum inside of you as you whimpered in your sleep—

Perfect little thing, aren't you? So good to him.

Simon can't remember the last time he fucked someone, much less when it was this enjoyable (an understatement, of course; in the back of his head, wheels spin round and round as he tries to come up with a plan to keep his cock buried inside of you at all times while still doing his work—), and the overflow of unquenched lust churns in his belly. A hunger he can now slake on your willing body. In the silence, he purrs—

But the effort, the exertion, dredged up a different need inside him. 

Simple hunger. An appetite. 

He could eat—

his eyes slant toward the top of your crown in the dark, and he amends it, quickly, to: in more ways than one. 

He'll go home in a minute. Make himself a steak from the prime cut he butchered a few days ago, leftovers that no one had any qualms about when he took several pieces home with him. 

(and really, why would they argue with the butcher who keeps their wallets fat and their bills paid?)

It was left on the counter earlier before he got the call that your brother was making another move. Now a perfect room temperature as it waits for him to come back. Cook it the way he likes—

Rare. 

The perfect grill is a nice char on the outside, but bleeding red on the inside. Basted in duck fat and garlic. A sprig of rosemary in the pan, but not touching the meat. Just enough to give the juice that earthy, sweet flavour. Let it rest for ten minutes under foil with the rest of the fat poured over it from the pan. Served as is with maybe a dash of salt and pepper on the side. 

Simple. But incredibly difficult to perfect, he finds. 

Everyone tries to make it fancier than what it needs to be, but at the end of the day, meat is meat. And going from picking scraps from the garbage outside of the Italian butcher on the corner to ordering his own pretentious filet mignon still gives him a sense of unease. Whiplash, perhaps. Nothing to something—how about that, Tommy? 

Maybe that's why he prefers to raise and butcher his own cattle. A never-ending supply of meat for him to sink his teeth into even if this whole thing goes belly up and he's back to begging for morsels on the corner. Tommy hiding in the shadows with a baseball bat waiting to ambush the richer men who happen to feel altruistic that day. 

This practice bled over into his current occupation, too. The basement of that same Italian butcher shop he used to sneak expired sausage from out of the bins is now his home base of sorts. A money laundering front of the 141. Headquarters for them to congregate in secrecy upstairs. And here—

A torture chamber for those who tried to cross them. Strung up on meat hooks like the cattle they eat, the ones he feeds them, until he makes up his mind on what he wants to do to them. 

It's where you should have been, he supposes, thumb brushing a spot of dried blood on your shoulder, right below a nasty bite mark on your forearm. The ring nearly black from the clotted blood pooling in the indents. It matches several others on your thighs—top, insides, back—and neck, belly, collarbones, sternum. All chewed up. Marked by the butcher. 

In working for the old Italian man who ran the shop when he was eighteen, he learned that most of the butchers preferred to mark their carcasses when they came in. A little x on the fat to signify they'd be the ones carving up the prime meat. 

He didn't think you could handle his knife, so he gave you his teeth instead. But the implication is clear. 

His. 

It's overkill considering his reputation, and the claim he already had on you. Because even before this, back when he saw you through the window of his shop as he was moonlit as a legitimate butcher and businessman instead of the enforcer, the brute, everyone already knew he was, his interest was clear. You were off-limits. His to deal with. 

And while Price refers not to get involved in small-time street dealers, the warnings Soap and Gaz impressed onto your brother should have been the end of an irritating situation and not the beginning of a fuckin’ headache. But no. He had to push. And push.  

Until Price gave the order to take care of it. 

And that he did. 

(With the added benefit of killing one bird and keeping the other in a pretty cage.)

Price probably won't like his solution, but Simon racked up enough favours to keep a little pet of his own. Been a good boy for a long, long time now, and he supposes he's owed a bone. 

Or a sweet thing tucked tight to his side having passed out some two hours ago after he slaked his dizzying thirst on you over and over again even though it doesn't feel like it's been enough. 

It's rare that he has an appetite for people. Even rarer that he lets this meagre hunger consume him like this. But there's something about you that makes his teeth ache in the same way they often do whenever he's hungry for meat. 

He wants to devour you. Consume you. Eat you alive and save nothing for anyone else to taste. 

(So—

Price will just have to let him keep you, won't he?)

The mattress vibrates under him. His phone buzzing with an incoming text. He reaches over, pulling it close enough to read the notification on his screen. It's from Soap.

All her stuff is on your porch. 

He hums, but doesn't reply. Simply opts to drop his phone on his belly, and tug you closer to his broad chest. He'll wake you in an hour, and the stirring in his groin tells him it'll be for another round. Maybe he'll take you in the freezer. Make you cling to the hook hanging down from the ceiling as he fucks you like that. He has a pair of ties for ox, lamb legs, that he can loop around your wrists and heft you up on. 

It'll hurt, he's sure. The binds weren't designed with comfort in mind, but he can easily bear your weight as he pounds into you from below, your pretty legs wrapped tight around his waist. 

The image, the thought, alone has him thickening against his thigh. He reaches down, gripping the base tight in his hand as he pulls you even closer, burying his nose in your crown. 

At the very least, he wouldn't be lying when he told Price he strung you up. 

Three rounds—on your back, your hands and knees, perched above him like a pretty goddess he stole away from a temple—and he still isn't satisfied. Fuck. He breathes in your scent and doesn't think he ever will be. 

He'll get you out of here, take you home. Make you the steak he likes for a late dinner, rare and simple—the same one he gave your brother weeks ago when he dragged him into the shop, strung him up on a hook, and demanded payment for his disrespect. 

Who'd have thought that his payment would be you? 

(fitting, though, since he'd had his eye on you for a while now—)

He nudges you when his phone chimes again with another message doubtless from Soap telling him all your things have been tucked away. Matters dealt with. 

“C’mon,” he grunts, running his hand down your spine. “We’re leavin’.”

You blink at him slowly. “Leaving?”

He nods. “Get dressed.” 

You're quiet as he turns, reaching for his jeans left in a heap beside the mattress, but he hears the hitch in your throat. The click when you swallow. Unbothered by it, he turns, giving you his back as he wedges his feet inside the trousers, pulling them up his legs. 

The bed shifts behind him. “I—I can walk back to my brother's—”

The hope in your voice is a delicate thing. Fragile like fine china. A pretty, vulnerable tchotchke meant to be seen, admired, but not touched. Not handled roughly. 

Unfortunately for you, he's never had much of a gentle touch. 

When he throws a glance over his shoulder, he's not surprised to find your arm folded over your bare breasts as you kneel on the mattress, your palm resting flat between your parted thighs, wrist and forearm covering the slip of heaven between them from his greedy, prying gaze. 

It paints a startling picture, he finds. One with you looking thoroughly ravaged. Taken. But presenting it in a soft sort of sensuality meant to make a man feel both hot under the collar and like an unrepentant voyeur. 

Pretty bird, he thinks, and feels his cock stir. 

He rises swiftly, hiking up his jeans around his thighs as he goes, and then turns to you with a heady desire to crush that gossamer of hope between his greedy hand like a silken cobweb that will stick to his fingers. 

“Not goin’ to your brothers,” he says, pushing his tongue against his cheek to stem the ache burning in his muscles. 

You shiver, eyes growing wide, frenzied with fear as you stare up at him. The shift of your throat when you swallow makes pre-cum dribble out of his fattened cock. He's never really had much of a taste for it, but he's overcome with the urge to see you cry—

“Where are we going?”

Amid the ache in his loins, the flickering fantasies of your pretty, lachrymal face gazing up at him helpless, hopeless, and needy, he catches the edge of panic when you speak. The razor-sharp tremble of fear. 

But buried amongst it, hidden in the bruised look you give him as he towers over you with his cock bulging in his slacks and his eyes burning with want, he finds a keen sense of eagerness amongst the rubble. Agog, almost. 

And fuck. If that doesn't do something awful to him. 

“What?” He taunts, cocking his head to the side as your breath grows shallow and your eyes wide. “Did you think that was enough to pay your debt, birdie?”

“What? You can't—”

“Don't like it—” he lifts his shoulder up in a cool, indifferent shrug, enjoying the dismayed expression that falls over your brow more than he should. “—go to the police.”

“The ones on your payroll?” You spit, eyes flaring wide like an angry cat. “You—”

Several things might have continued in place of your choked, angry sob, but it's swallowed down as pragmatically as it was the first time he cornered you earlier today. And as beautiful as your ire is, he finds the cornered look on your face to be much more pleasing. Prettier. 

“C’mon, bird,” he mocks, holding his hand out toward you with a tick of his lips. “All your stuff is at home. Don't be stupid.” 

“Stupid?” You gasp in indignation, but there's a bruised look in your eyes. A wounded thing that makes his breath hitch in his lungs for reasons he can't really ascertain, but just knows that he likes it. Likes it a lot. “This is—insane.”

Again, he shrugs, but the indifference this time isn't the same manufactured callousness meant to inspire fear. The conversation is stale already. Grating on him. He's not used to having his orders ignored or questioned. What he says usually goes—either through association or reputation, or just the fact that no one has ever come close to filling the same measure of space as he does—and questioning him like this makes him feel too much like a boy, and not enough like the living ghost he pretends to be. 

“You can't do this. It's not right.”

An appeal to his humanity. Cute. He huffs, reaching down to fasten the button of his jeans. The sound the zipper makes cuts through the room. “You're mine, birdie. Better get used to it.” 

Catching your eye as he says it was only meant to reignite the kindling fear you have of him from extinguishing. A scared prey animal was a better pet than an angry one. But the look on your face catches him off-guard. 

It reminds him of a flightless little bird shivering in a child's shoebox. Tiny broken thing his mum warned him not to touch or its mother would abandon it to die on its own. 

“Until the debt is paid off.”

A statement, not a question. He shrugs, but doesn't respond. Tilts his head toward the door. “Let's go.” 

His lack of reassurance doesn't soften the flint in your gaze, but the prospect of recompense seems to spurn you on. Another wishbone of hope to cling to. And despite himself, he lets you keep it. Lets your little finger wrap around the delicate bone for comfort because as much as you might think there's a fifty-fifty chance of getting the bigger piece, he has no intentions of letting something like that get in the way of his appetite even if you do. 

(And his hunger has always been particularly voracious, hasn't it?)

“Come, birdie. Gotta get you home, and fed, don't I?” 

polarity | 06 yandere! jungkook

pairing: yandere!jungkook x (f) reader

genre: yandere

warnings: 18+ , toxic relationships, unhealthy and obsessive behavior , mentions of mental health, manipulation, blackmail, cheating

word count: 21.k

summary: Your best friend’s new boyfriend becomes infatuated with you..

Playlist

Parts: 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06

❄️CS | 03 JK

A/N: im delirious after editing this so if you see any error , please pretend you didn’t 🥴💕💕!!! ily <3

—-

The anticipating silence filled the room as you stared down the familiar face in front of you. You could hear a ringing in your ears, the anger in your body simmering down and being replaced with sheer panic. Suddenly your mind was now moving rapidly through every possible reason as to why Hoseok could be here. Had your text messages been read? Had there been a slip up on your part? Had you mentioned him to Jungkook? What did he know? How did he know? Did they know each other? Your feet shifted to the side and you took a step back.

For a moment it felt as if this was some sort of soap opera playing out in front of you and you were just a pathetic puppet being wired by her master. Jungkook was the deranged puppeteer in this circus and you were the biggest fool of them all.

You inched forward, instinctively wanting to tell Hoseok to get away from him. Just the thought of him near Jungkook made you nervous. Let alone watching him being sat so comfortably in his apartment.

“What are you doing here?” You asked in a breathless whisper, the clear shock evident on your entire physique.

Hoseok’s eyes shifted between you and Jungkook, tensing up at your question. He seemed not only confused but upset. Your eyes didn’t miss the soju bottle next to him. The sight left you even more than perplexed . Why was Jungkook seemingly having a casual drink with the same boy he had threatened before? How had he managed to lure him into the apartment in the first place? How was he here? The worst of thoughts began to emerge in your head.

“That’s a little rude, isn’t it?” Jungkook feigned innocence, leaning in to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear like he often did in endearment. However, in this particular moment nothing about it felt sweet or endearing. “Considering you’re the one who invited him over.”

What?

Your face scrunched up in complete astonishment. You slapped his hand away and put more space between the two of you.

“What are you talking about? I didn’t invite anyone.” Your voice wentup in pitch towards the end. “What’s going on?”

You look between the both of them, they shared a swift knowing glance at each other before Jungkook locked his gaze onto you again.

What was that?

Something was so off. Not only were you terribly confused but it felt familiar almost, terribly familiar. It didn’t feel as if you had walked in on a clear betrayal. It felt as if you had walked into some sick kind of inside joke. A set up meant to leave you in the dark. It didn’t felt like you were the one that deserved an explanation.

But you noticed one thing. Jungkook’s prying eyes poorly concealed something else in them. Seething jealousy. A shudder left you as you braced for what he was going to do. You’ve messed up horribly.

You felt Hoseok’s eyes on you now too, his expression changing into a frown as he studied you.

“I told you,” Jungkook spoke, his dark eyes didn’t stray from you but he was clearly addressing the other man in the room. “She was playing you.”

You snap your head back at Hoseok in shock at the words coming out of Jungkook’s mouth. You weren’t expecting them but they helped confirm your suspicions. The puzzle pieces were still scattered but you slowly began to watch them fit together as you took in everything in front of you.

This couldn’t be happening.

“What the hell are you talking about!” You shrieked out but immediately took a deep breath, feeling yourself start to lose control of the emotions overwhelming you. A need to reel yourself back in took over, a part of you afraid of triggering another panic attack that you couldn’t handle at the moment. You flared your arms up as you neared towards Hoseok who looked more upset by the second.

“You texted me.” Hoseok stated shaking his head at you. “You sent me this location and told me to come over, that you were ‘really needed me right now’.”

You stare at him, freezing in your steps as you rapidly shake your head in denial. What was he talking about? Had Jungkook taken your phone somehow without your knowledge? But how? He hadn’t asked you to unlock your phone the other day. You hadn’t texted Hoseok since yesterday, vaguely giving him a run down of your day. In fact, you had been texting him far less these days as you were determined to still let him down gently. You figured it was working. Which is why you couldn’t believe your eyes at him being here. You would never tell him to meet you anywhere. Not with Jungkook’s inquisitive nature that you had barely escaped earlier. Let alone lead him right into a lion’s den.

“No, no.” You explained, pointing towards Jungkook. “He must’ve contacted you somehow, I never texted you! I don’t understand what the fuck is going on but I never texted you that!”

This was ridiculous. You gripped your bag and slung it off your shoulder. You began to search for your phone, eagerly needing to provide proof of this insane claim but Hoseok continued his accusation.

“You told me you broke up with him yet you led me directly to your very much still boyfriend’s place.” He continued you with a scoff. “The text came from your contact. What the hell are you doing? Why lie about something like that? Is this a sick game or some shit?”

The text came from you.

That was literally impossible. Jungkook didn’t know your passcode.

Did he?

Even if he did, you would’ve noticed he went through it. Wouldn’t you? You didn’t recall leaving your phone unattended. Or did you? The days here didn’t even feel real, you were struggling to recall much of anything right now. But most of all, you didn’t like the guilt you felt at the thought of Jungkook going through your phone. You should be angry and you were but another part of you also felt ashamed. It felt exactly like what you had felt that morning he confronted you about your phone and how you had thought you fooled him successfully for once.

The walls were closing in on you as you finally found your phone. Your fingers shook while tapping against the screen.

“She lied.” Jungkook chimed in. From the corner of your eye you could see him still observing you as he walked right over to the island. “She does this whenever we have a fight, she just wants attention.”

No.

No.

No.

You swallowed, your eyes stinging with newfound tears as you opened your texts, easily finding Hoseok’s contact that you placed under a girl’s name. Your closed your eyes tightly, letting out a silent curse. You were right there was no texts of you sending a message to meet up, your screen just showed the many texts of you casually talking and politely declining to meet up with him. But it was then you realized your mistake.

These messages didn’t rid you of any guilt. They only dug your grave further.

You had been deceptive. Not with malicious intent but you had been nonetheless. You had lied to not only Hoseok, but to Jungkook.The latter unsurprisingly filled you with much more dread. No matter which way you looked at it, this looked exactly how he intended it to look like. The story of an unfaithful lover that had been caught red handed with another man by her husband.

Jungkook fit the part with ease with the way his demeanor promised silence before the storm. The forced coolness in his tone was hiding a beast beneath it. You suppose you fit the part too by how dry your mouth had gotten. You found yourself suddenly not wanting to meet his scrutinizing gaze. You went behind his back, didn’t you? You lay in his bed every night, ate his food, enjoyed his luxurious and in return you sneak around. Did you not deserve his wrath? Perhaps you deserved much more.

Another skipped heartbeat.

What was wrong with you? The rational side of you was slipping away little by little. It knew well that this wasn’t your fault but your feelings were fighting strongly against all rationality. If it wasn’t your fault then why were you hesitating to show them your phone? If you were so innocent then why did you feel so dirty? You gripped your phone painfully tight officially panicking as you delayed to turn it over like you were so eagerly planning on doing a moment ago. How could you be so idiotic? Why didn’t you delete these texts? Why didn’t you block him all together? You’ve not only screwed yourself over but you’ve taken Hoseok down with you.

Jungkook seemed to notice your struggle, his mask slightly slipping.

“ What’s the matter, baby?” The corner of his mouth quirked up slightly. “Show your proof.”

He practically spit out the last word, twisted amusement taking over his gaze. You felt your lips tremble as you tried your hardest to swallow down a sob.

“Jungkook.” You pleaded with wide eyes. “Please, why are you doing this?”

His expression sharpened at that. Instead of taking pity in you, like you foolishly assumed he might, he glared daggers at you. His weakness seemed to be seeing you break and seeing you break down in tears. As sick as it was he did once tell you he hated to see you cry and you cling to that slither of hope that would appeal to his more softhearted side. But of course you should’ve known better than to trust you had Jungkook figured out in the slightest.

“Me?” He asked you incredulously, his mask fully falling now as you saw his eyes flash with a familiar type of hurt you had seen in them before. The same type of hurt when you had yelled at him that you would never love him. You took yet another cautious step back, surprised at how much the look seemed to leave you completely chilled this time. You didn’t remember feeling this breathless last time you had caused it.

“How do you have the audacity to say that to me.” He sneered at you and one stride towards you had him closing most of the space you’d been creating between you. “How about you turn over the phone screen and show me how much you’ve been lying to my face?”

Another step.

“How about you tell me exactly where you’ve been all day.”

Another skipped heartbeat.

He knew where’d you been.

“No.” You continued to shake your head and turned your frantic gaze towards the other poor man in the room.

“Hoseok, you need to listen to me. This isn’t what it looks like, he’s doing this on purpose to-"

Jungkook’s cruel laugh cut you off, he ran a hand through his dark locks in disbelief. You watched in horror as he played the betrayed boyfriend role so convincingly because he genuinely did feel like you betrayed him. You felt your chest ache at the sight. Why did it ache? Why did it hurt to see him like this? Not only had you not even sent that message to Hoseok but you didn’t owe Jungkook any sense of loyalty. You didn’t owe him anything.

But the broken look in the large doe eyes that you had spent every night looking into since you got here made you feel like you owed him the world. You saw the corner of his lip twitch as he tried to blink away his glossy stare.

“It’s exactly what it looks like.” Jungkook stated with determination. So sure of himself. He tilted his head to the side, turning to Hoseok. “Did you know what she had just finished doing just before she received your adorable first text?”

You stiffen at his implication and at the way he comes up behind you. His breath tickles your ear as his fingers come to brush your hair out of your face and wraps his other arm around your waist. You let out a small gasp. The hand on your hair slowly runs down the back of your neck and inner shoulder. The cold sensation of his rings making you involuntarily shiver.

“Or rather who she was doing.” Before you can react, he pulls you further into him and places a kiss on the top of your head. “You have no idea how pretty she looks on top of me.”

Your jaw hung at his awful crude words and you harshly pull yourself away from him, quickly putting back the previous distance in between you. Your face felt like it was on fire. You had nearly forgotten the undeniable mean streak Jungkook possessed. It had been easy to pretend it had never existed with how sweetly he had treated you all this time you’ve shared his space and his bed. How quickly had you forgotten the many sides of him, the ugly sides that came out when things didn’t go his way and when his doll had overstepped her restraints.

But it was obvious that this was more than Jungkook being cruel, he was making a point. Staking his claim.

“Stop it! What’s wrong with you?” You didn’t need to even look towards Hoseok’s direction to know how incredibly uncomfortable he was. It was clear in the way he cleared his throat and went to stand up.

“There wasn’t a need for all of this, I would’ve never asked you out if I’d known you two had just been on some kind of break.”

“We never broke up, she just loves making me jealous whenever we have ….disagreements.” Jungkook replied for you with a smirk spreading on his lips that reminded you of a devious child.

You were breathing heavily now, struggling to ground yourself as you felt the awful dread start traveling through you once again. It was triggered and you couldn’t do anything to stop it now. You had mere seconds left before your mind was burdened by sheer panic.

“She was just using you, unfortunately you were the perfect bait.” Jungkook raised an eyebrow at you. You watched nervously as he walked back over to the counter and leaned on it, directly facing Hoseok. You could practically hear his grin. “You need to realize how girls work, you seem a bit inexperienced .“

Your phone dropped with a loud ‘clank’ but the two men didn’t seem to even notice it. It may have looked like you simply threw it to onto the floor in rage but your hands hand not stopped shaking. You felt the hideous need to run your nails down your arms and face . It was taking great effort not to do so, you opted for running them down frantically through your hair instead. He was turning the tables completely and successfully. He was playing this off as a typical unsteady relationship where he made you look like the dramatic girlfriend who was simply acting out when there was trouble in paradise.

Hoseok let out a breathless laugh, shaking his head as he stood up from his seat. He seemed to be completely over it.

“Whatever, you need to tell your crazy girlfrie-"

“You need to learn to take threats more seriously. I told you to stay away from her .” You heard Jungkook cut him off with now a much less neutral tone. All casualness gone. You didn’t need to look at him to know why the air seemed heavier now, you wanted to tell Hoseok to be quiet and not poke him further but you could barely focus your spiraling mind on anything other than the feeling of your chest tightening.

“Listen, I didn’t think it was all that serious. She never actually told me she had a boyfriend. You can’t blame me for not knowing right?” There was a slight defensiveness to how Hoseok said it and you couldn’t help but feel bad. He’d been blindsided completely. When he spared a glance at you his face scrunched up in seeming concern at your worsening state of panic.

“Right.” Jungkook nodded. His grin still present but it faltered a little when he noticed Hoseok’s gaze on you.

“Hoseok, please listen to me. I-I did lie but it wasn’t because of what he’s saying. I wasn’t playing with you. At first I was trying to-” A frustrated sigh left you as you tried to figure out how to explain yourself. You couldn’t tell him the complete truth, not in front of Jungkook. His menacing blackmail still hovered over you like your own personal grey cloud.

“To let you down easily.” You cringed at your confession. It sounded much worse saying it out loud and you saw Jungkook raising both his eyebrows in mocking manner. You glared at the realization that hit you.

He knew you wouldn’t able to explain yourself. That’s why he brought Hoseok here. He wanted to see you cower and admit your mistake in front of him with no way out. Perhaps he even knew he’d trigger your anxiety by doing so. He’s managed to gather every key that unlocked your weaknesses.

Hoseok clenched his jaw, his lips set in a straight line. He looked like he couldn’t wait to sprint out the door. You knew you’d find no help in him or hope he’d see through Jungkook’s manipulation anymore. Now he was convinced you’ve dragged him into some unnecessary relationship drama.

“How considerate of you, baby.” Jungkook continued his taunting but you heard his true displeasure beneath it. He turned his attention back to Hoseok and circled the other side of the island where he sat.

The apartment was starting to feel much smaller than you recalled.

“So now that we cleared that up and there’s no room for pesky excuses . I would very much like you to stay the fuck out of my relationship. “

You flinched at the venom in his tone. The rage he’d been burying coming to the surface and poured itself all over the last sentence.

Seeing just how close Jungkook had gotten to him wasn’t helping your growing panic. He was taller than Hoseok but that wasn’t what was intimidating about him. It was his entire demeanor sending off such drastic mixed signals .There was nothing worse than not knowing how to predict an opponent in the slightest.

Jungkook placed a rough hand on Hoseok’s shoulder.

You swore your heart stopped.

“And I suggest you start by blocking my girlfriend’s number from your phone and forget she ever existed to you.” He leaned into Hoseok’s ear, his eyes tracing back to you as that mean lazy smile remained on his lips. From the outside it seemed like the typical comrade bro hug, almost friendly in manner. Two good-looking college boys sharing some type of gossip.

“I’d hate to show you what a name like mine can do to a nobody like you.” If he had meant to whisper it then he failed terribly because you had heard his threat perfectly. “Money talks a lot around here, I’m sure you know that. I could make you lose everything you’ve worked for or come very close to it. You won’t get a second warning.”

There was a few seconds of silence. Or minutes. You really couldn’t tell.

“I get it, I swear I don’t want any problems.” Hoseok replied sounding more peeved than shaken by your insane ‘boyfriend’s’ words. He probably assumed he was just another entitled rich boy who was throwing around empty threats because his ego was hurt.

He’d be half right but there was a lot more wrong with Jungkook than his spoilt attitude and those threats were not as empty as he thought.

Jungkook stared at him for a long moment, whether to take in his words or perhaps looking for an indication of a lie you weren’t sure but once he seemed satisfied he gave him a slow nod.

“Good.” He finally took a step away from him and grabbed the soju bottle next to him, shoving it into Hoseok’s chest. “Need me to call for an Uber? I heard bus fares are quite high nowadays.”

Hoseok’s face flushed but you were certain it wasn’t due to the alcohol.

“I can walk.” He grumbled as he began to walk towards the front door.

“Suit yourself.” Jungkook flashed him another smile, this time displaying his perfect teeth. It was an uncanny sight.

You hated yourself for not even managing to get a another word out, too engrossed in your own doomsday. The fleeing sensation of humiliation didn’t have room to properly settle, overridden by much more powerful emotions that never shared their home in your tortured mind. The nails were now starting to dig into your arms, you barely felt Hoseok walk past but you for sure didn’t miss l the last nasty glance he sent your way before the sound of the door slamming shut echoed through the room.

An immediate sob left your lips, your knees slowly gave out and you let yourself fall against the cold ceramic tiles. You lifted your head up slightly, watching the man in front of you with tears pooling your vision. He had never not been quick to comfort you during your attacks but this time he simply stood there with no intention of running to comfort you. Instead he let out a sigh, his eyes remained on the door with an odd look on his face. For a moment, it seemed like he was holding back a sob himself. His eyes shifting to the corner of the room before over to you. He bit his bottom lip harshly as he ran a hand over his face.

“Why the tears baby? You caused this.” He muffled into his own hands, turning his back to you. You watched his long legs paced back and forth between the small space of where you lay. Watching him run his fingers run over his now messy hair.

You continued to sob quietly, breaths growing more shallow. How could he say that to you? You had caused this?

“Get up. We need to get you into a cold shower if you want to feel better.” You heard him order as he struggled to contain a steady tone. He turned around, placing a hand on the marble counter and leaning his weight on it causing his muscles to flex underneath his thin t-shirt. His bottom lip was now swollen and red. Eyes puffy and distraught.

It was so unfair. All of it.

“You hacked my phone, didn’t you? Because I didn’t send that text to Hoseok and how else would you have known….where I was.” You muttered the last part mostly to yourself, the idea becoming more of a fact than a theory. You had assumed he had simply followed you but if he had gone as far as hacking your phone then he surely would’ve used it to track your location.

There was no way he had followed you either, the timing wouldn’t have made much sense and you were certain you would’ve spotted his car at some point considering how careful you had been the entire commute there.

You jump suddenly at the sound of his hand slamming down harshly on the counter.

“No shit.” Jungkook spit out and you draw back. The abrupt action caught you off guard. You had never witnessed him physically express his anger before.

“Now.get.up.” He repeated. “I can’t help you if you’re sobbing on the floor.”

“I don’t want anything from you!” You shouted back, sending him the most hateful look you could muster. He blinked, eyebrows furrowing as still he refused to look your way but you swore you saw a flash of regret on his face.

He took a deep breath and regained most of his composure. His jaw clenched.

“What did you expect? Did you really think I wouldn’t find out? There will be no secrets between us. I won’t allow it.”

Well, wasn’t that just rich coming from him.

“No secrets? I-I know what you did.” You accused in between sobs, your hands planted firmly on the floor as you shifted your body weight towards your right leg that left you in an awkward sitting position. It was hard to ignore the chills running down your entire body, your mind struggled to focus on what you wanted to scream at him.

He turned his head to look down at you. His penetrating gaze meeting yours at last.

“I know that you were the one that made my professor accuse me of plagiarism.” You said after another intake of breath. “ You did it, didn’t you? You blackmailed him! Just like you did to me. Just like you do to everyone in order to get your way. I don’t know with what but you did.”

He was silent. Just quietly looking at you.

Your short breaths only quickened, the horrible feeling coming in waves, stopping then gaining more force. You felt like you were stuck in a mid fall. It felt like years passed before Jungkook slowly made his way over to you, your eyes traced over the slight twitch of his fingers and cubic steel bracelet around his wrist. He bent down to your level and you felt his fingers lifting your chin up at him. You knew he could feel you shaking because he angled your face towards him again when you tried to look off to the side, his set gaze halting your rapid eye movements.

“Seems like a little birdie has been talking.” He whispered to you, he almost sounded disappointed. “That just won’t do, baby.”

You felt the sudden urge to slap him but you went to push him away instead. He caught your arms before you could do so, pushing them towards his chest and pulling your whole body closer to him. His actions were rough and careless. An indicator of just how much you’ve pissed him off this time. You could feel your teeth chattering now, your panic attack reaching its peak as you felt your vision blur. It was as if someone had poured a bucket of ice all over you except you wished someone actually had just to rid you of this feeling.

“You know she’s right, you know I’m right. That’s why you’re so upset.” You went on as you squirmed in his hold.

“How easily you’ve forgotten what she’s done to you. Is it that easy to fool you, baby? Does that bitch really have such a tight hold on you still that you that you accept her words as truth without question?” He sounded a parent scolding a small foolish child over taking sweets from a stranger.

He was wrong. Your once all-consuming love for Eunji had turned into a grudge that you couldn’t shake off. She might’ve been a horrible friend but why would she lie about something like that? It seemed too specific. It seemed like she knew more than she was willing to admit and for some reason that only angered you more. She knew more yet she had given you crumbs in return. Was that the plan all along or was she making you a victim of her selfish bitterness again? Even after everything, it was hard for you to believe she hated you that much.

Because you had seen it. You had seen a fragment of sincerity in her eyes earlier. A small piece of pity, no matter how fleeing.

“Ask your little boyfriend what he was doing walking into Professor Clark’s classroom a few weeks ago.”

You swore you had heard it in her voice too. As if she had been doing you one last favor. Granting you one last bit of kindness for all those years spent together being thrown away. But the more you ponder over it, the more Jungkook’s planted seed of doubt began to grow its roots. Had you only seen what you had hoped to?

“You accuse me of lying to you over some gossip your little fake friend filled your head with? It didn’t take long for you to go running back into her arms, did it? Where is your pride?” The disgust in his voice would be hard to fake and you had to look away from the sheer sincerity in it.

“I didn’t run back to her! I wanted answers and-"

“And did you find them?” He cut you off, eyes searching your face like something in it had already granted him the answer. “No, of course you didn’t baby. You let her have the last laugh again.”

Again

“How would she know to make that connection and why would she lie about her seeing you walk into our professor’s classroom weeks ago.” You hissed back at him eagerly grasping to take control of the conversation that he had so easily overpowered in seconds.

God, you really couldn’t breathe.

“Do you hear yourself? You’re asking me why a girl that has been jealous and spiteful towards you for years would try and scheme against you for sleeping with her ex-boyfriend! ” Jungkook sneered back and you flinched at the sudden raise of volume in his voice.

“Lying comes as easily as breathing to some. Haven’t you learned that by now? You really are more naive than I thought if you have yet to realize how unkind this world is and how often people like you get trampled over.”

You let out another quivering sob, growing more and more upset by his words. You might be naive but you weren’t that naive to not realize that he wasn’t the one who should be saying this to you. Him of all people. It felt like a stab in the chest. Jungkook lets go of your arms and brings them to cradle your face in his hands instead. His thumbs wiping away your never ending tears. His action is meant to be gentle but his grip is so tight that you feel his nails digging slightly into your skin.

“I’ve only ever tried to protect you, baby. Protect you from her and from yourself.” His hot breath sent waves of shock through you, you felt his lips lightly graze your own. “How many times must I save you from her? And from everyone who has ill intentions towards you before you realize it’s only ever going to be me.”

He lifted one hand from your cheek to carress your hair, those glossy doe eyes pulling you in and tugging at the invisible strings on your limbs and heart.

“How many times must I prove my love to you?”

This wasn’t love. It couldn’t be.

It felt like something much stronger. Much too different. Your love for Eunji had never felt this overwhelming. It never felt like you were being lulled to a perfect sleep, just to be suddenly plunged into a free fall. This didn’t feel anything like a secret held close to your chest, your heart skipping a beat everytime you used to see her even when you’d already seen her three times before that day. How giddy you felt at her accidental touches. How much you seemed to please her and never wanted to see her in pain. How easily it came to you to want to fix all her minor inconveniences.

No, this felt nothing like that. It wasn’t a secret. It didn’t allow itself to be. It was too loud. Too ugly. Whatever you had felt for Eunji, it felt five times more heightened with Jungkook. His presence felt like too much yet like there was never enough of it to actually violate you. It fit you in a way you were so frightened to admit. He had taken a piece of you that you never agreed on giving him. Yet it was that very foreign feeling that had you craving him in moments you shouldn’t have. In nearly all hours of a day. You were frightened at what you had been feeling these past two weeks sharing his space. Completely terrified at what he had managed to make you feel for him in such little time.

Even now, he felt so familiar yet so untouchable.

“This isn’t love.” You replied back in a broken whisper. It was mistake and you realized it quickly but it was too late to take it back. You blamed your overly emotional state for the thoughtless response.

A few beats of silence passed with only your uneven breaths filling the room. Jungkook continued to caress your hair before the corners of his lips twitched. An almost sad small appearing on them.

“Fine.” Another few beats of silence. The heavy air lingered.

You licked your dry lips as he retrieved his hand completely from you. Your eyes tracked the movement before they landed on the unreadable look on his face.

“ If you think I’m such a monster, I promise I will show you how easily I can make that come true for you. ” He stated lowly, dark eyes taking in your features again. “And it will make everything else I’ve done pale in comparison.”

His words sink in.

You hadn’t wanted that all and you don’t think you’ve ever heard him sound so disturbed. It rattled you to the core. You jumped forward to try and salvage what was left of the ruin you may have caused yourself and others.

“Jungkook n-no. I don’t want that. I don’t think that of you.” Breathlessly you pleaded with him. Not even a minute ago you wanted to rid yourself of his touch on you and now you were bringing your own hands to his face. The roles reversing with haste.

“But you just said it, baby. You don’t think this is love.” His sharp look was not budging. “What choice do you leave me if you won’t even believe my feelings for you after everything I’ve done? I’ll have to make you see it, one way or another.”

One way or another. That could mean so many things for someone like him and you didn’t want to find out which method he’d try out first.

“I-I do believe them. I don’t know why I said that.”

“Don’t lie to me.” He said with a disillusioned look and clasped your wrists. “For the third time tonight.”

Your fingers run down his cheeks as you as you near your face to his again.

“I’m not! I’m sorry. I’m sorry but please don’t do anything. I’m begging you, please.” It was pathetic . You were pathetic but you suppose you had already lost your dignity a long time ago. There wasn’t much else to lose and you weren’t sure you’d ever manage to have a spine when it came to the boy in front of you.

He eyed you.

“What it is it that you’re so afraid I’ll do?” He muttered, his breath once again warm against your lips.

You frowned. It was a trick question, wasn’t it? Was he genuinely asking you?

“I just don’t want you to hurt anyone.” You stressed, your fingers trembled terribly against his cheeks.

You felt his thumbs brushing the inside of your wrists in a circular motion gently. The soft action wasn’t to fully soothe you but it did distract you for split second.

“Anyone?” Jungkook asked lowly. It stumped you a bit. You tried to find some clarity in his fixed look but it didn’t display much of anything. In fact, you swore his eyes were inviting you to some sort of challenge.

So you simply nodded in response.

“Hm.” He hummed, his upper lip lifting slightly before he nodded back.

Was he agreeing with you?

You let out the smallest sigh of relief. It probably looked pained.

His hands then fully clasped your wrists and he stood up without warning. The force of it dragged you up with him due to his locked grip. He tugged you against him as he made his way down the hallway. You kept quiet, already starting to feel your body weight itself down like it usually did when your panic attack lost its strength. The numbness traveled through your every muscle. Jungkook had released your wrists and instead guided you by the shoulder with your body remaining pressed into his chest.

He opened the bedroom door and guided you towards the bathroom. The unease in your stomach had not left but it was easier to ignore with how heavy your eyelids felt. You felt him suddenly leave your side and brush past you to go turn on the shower. You caught a glimpse of yourself on the large mirror above the black vanity sink . The teary gaze and snot dripping from your nose. Your wet cheeks and swollen eyes. Your gaze accidentally caught sight of Jungkook while he slid open the shower door. His stare was hollow.

A look you don’t remember ever seeing on him before.

You looked away, unsure of what to make of it. When he approached you again, you didn’t protest as he stripped you both down. Once in the shower, you kept your back to him and fully faced the shower head that washed away any lingering nerves. You couldn’t help but zoom in on the ombré ceramic tile design in front of you as your mind drifted off again. Jungkook’s hands massaged your shoulders gently as he ran the loofa down your back. The act was intimate and normal. But your thoughts didn’t let you rest for the remainder of the night. Not even when you were both in bed, tucked under the soft warm sheets. Not even when he cuddled beside you, rubbing your back continuously and you listened his steady breathing.

The normalcy of it all didn’t break your trance because you were still thinking of the look Jungkook had given you. The daring glint in his eyes masking the seething nature. The vacant look you caught of him in the mirror.

Something wasn’t right.

—

It was ache in your shoulders that woke you.The soft gel pillow underneath your cheek felt wet and you inwardly cursed and wiped your mouth.You thought you had dropped drooling months ago. You had yet to open your eyes, wanting to stay this oblivious and at peace before a certain reality hit you. It took a few seconds for the disorientation to fade away as you slowly blinked up at the familiar white ceiling with the recessed lighting now completely shut off due to the natural sunlight illuminating the space.

You lifted your head and let out a soft groan at the stiffness in your muscles.

It was quiet.

The memories of last night came flooding back in rapidly and your stomach churned at them. You pushed them away as much as you could. If only it had been a nightmare. How much you wished it had never happened and how much you wished you hadn’t walked out the door yesterday. At this point, you weren’t sure if you cared about if what Eunji had said was true or not. If anything, it had left you even more puzzled about everything. Both of them had played you in one way or another. It seemed like they were taking turns, tugging on each of your arms in complete opposite directions.

You craned your neck and looked around the empty room. Jungkook wasn’t in bed but he usually wasn’t, he had made it a habit to cook breakfast before you woke.

Flinging your feet to the side , you climbed off the bed and made your way out the door and into the hallway. You could smell coffee and hear shuffling. When you made into the living room you came to a halt upon seeing Jungkook in the kitchen like you expected. He seemed to be chopping something on the cutting board, a tomato maybe.

“Morning, baby.” He greeted you with a warm smile when he noticed you. He was dressed in casual pajama pants with an oversized black t-shirt. His hair was messy, clearly he’d not bothered to touch it yet but it made him look more endearing.

“Morning.” You reply with a small smile of your own despite the shake in your voice. He was acting like nothing had happened and you didn’t know if you should feel immense relief at that or not. It didn’t feel natural but you could very well be making something out of nothing. As you approach him though, your eyeline shifts to the floor and instantly a realization hits you.

Your eyebrows knit together as your eyes search the ground and walk towards the same spot you were last night.

“What it is it?” Jungkook asks when you fail to find what you’re looking for. You glance up at him, his curious gaze had followed yours to the floor.

“M-My phone. I dropped it last night. Did you see it?”

“Oh that.” He returns to pouring orange juice into a glass, the eggs on the stove sizzling behind him. “ I have it.”

You blink in confusion but try to conceal it.

“Oh.” You swallow. “Can you give it to me?”

Jungkook meets your gaze and slides over the glass of orange juice to you. You thank him quietly before taking a seat on the tall stool of the island.

“And why would I do that?” Your in the midst of taking a sip of the juice when he says it so you snort a little into the glass, assuming he’s joking for a split second.

But you notice the raise of his eyebrow, eyeing your movements as he awaits your response.

Tensing, you put the glass down and frown.

“Um,” You don’t even know what to say. “Well, because I need it.”

It came out more so like a question when you had intended it to sound like a firm reply. Jungkook notices your poor attempt as well, a smirk threatening to spread his lips.

“For what? To text another library boy?” He placed both his hands on the counter, leaning foward. He wasn’t that close but you fought the urge to lean back. His eyes narrowed into slits as bit the inside of his cheek.

His words make your mouth dry despite the juice you had just taken a sip of. Apparently the disturbed thoughts that had haunted you all night might’ve had some validity.

Yet this didn’t shock you any less.

But what did you think was going to happen? You had ignored all the warnings. Jungkook’s jealous side was something you never wanted to witness again and you had feeling you were only scratching the surface.

“Jungkook, I didn’t do anything. I was only trying to let him off easily. I-I wasn’t looking for anything else. I already explained this last night . I felt bad for what you had threatened him with when we weren’t even together.” It wasn’t a lie but you knew it didn’t matter by the way his expression didn’t budge one bit. Whatever innocent crush you had felt for Hoseok was long gone. Not only due to the sheer embarrassment that had occurred that no doubt had left him with the worst impression of you but you were not willing to put him in Jungkook’s radar again. You deeply regretted ever texting him at all.

It was too late to try to explain anything to Hoseok anyway. Even if you ever got him alone again you were sure he’d run the opposite direction at just your mere sight. He probably thought you were crazy.

This was crazy.

“I’m confused.” Jungkook’s scrutinizing gaze trapped you in place. “You said you didn’t want me to hurt anyone.”

“I-what?”

“You said you didn’t want me to hurt anyone.” He repeats lowly.

“I-I don’t-”

“Good. And I won’t as long as you stay in line.” He shrugs as if he’s discussing the weather and not the confiscation of your phone.

“But I need my phone, I need to text my parents.”

“I already did. They’re fine.” He gives you a tight-lipped smile but you could see how much he was trying to control the rage that traveled through him. The tightness of his grip on the edges of his counter, the veins on his hands and arms popping out slightly.

“Those petty excuses won’t work on me. You can only blame yourself as to why I don’t trust you anymore baby.” His eyes trailed down you. “Did you really think I’d be okay with you texting other men or anyone who shows interest in you for that matter?”

You looked away from him.

“No! That’s not what it was like.” You sputtered, feeling that sense of guilt invade you once again.

You heard him scoff.

“Have I been too nice, baby? I have, haven’t I? Because I don’t know what gave the impression that you could ever run back to that bitch or flirt with others to ‘let them down easy’ and think I would sit back and watch like your little lap dog.”

You watched his controlled breathing, afraid to make the slightest move that could set him off.

Deciding not to reply , you simply watched him and hoped he’d gather himself but your silence seemed to only edge him further because he pulled a hand away from the counter and reached over to take your glass away. You saw him twirl it around in his hand, your gaze fully lifting to meet his due to the unexpected action and he glared at you as he took a sip from it.

“Did you know he had a sister? Your little library boy.” He clarifies as he swallows, setting the glass back down. “She just got married. Would be a shame if a pair of newly weds suffered an unfortunate accident…or any other type of terrible luck.”

You were completely floored by his words. A full body chill running through you. You wished you had heard him wrong but the way he studied you expectedly made it all too real.

Were you that surprised though? How could you be? It wasn’t the first time Jungkook had made these sort of malicious threats. It was the very thing he had done when he had gotten you alone for the first time. There was no limits for the wealthy and well-read.

What really struck you was how and why he would go as far to involve completely innocent people that had no connection to either of you and exactly how long he had known about this? Had he accessed your private texts recently or had known of them for a while now? If it was the latter that would mean he has deliberately let you text Hoseok up until yesterday. Why had he waited that long? Why didn’t he confront you about it immediately?

Given your frantic state last night, you hadn’t even thought about the possibility. You had thought his actions were impulsive and reckless, that he had find out about the texts when he had tracked your location. But that didn’t make sense , did it? Because then why did Jungkook already know so much about Hoseok’s family? It was unlikely for even him to acquire this type of information overnight . Your stomach sunk at the knowledge that you really had underestimated Jungkook again. Because this suddenly didn’t seem like a simple impulsive act of jealousy. It seemed much more calculating

“Leave them alone, Jungkook. Please don’t involve anyone else into this. I’m begging you.” You spoke gently despite the mounting fear of upsetting him with one wrong word.

“I didn’t involve anyone , baby. You did.” He replied just as gently. It felt demeaning but the side of you that had began to cater to him thought he might’ve had a point.

“Okay.” You nodded. “Okay I did, I’m sorry. You don’t have to worry about it. You told him to block me, there’s nothing to worry about.”

He pushed himself away fully from the counter and came up beside you. He gave you back your glass of juice. He seemed much taller from this sitting angle and you watched him carefully as he played with your necklace. His necklace.

“You’ll have plenty of time to show me just how sorry you are, baby.” He mumbled to you as if he was granting you a token of consideration. Running his hands across the butterfly pendant.

“Because I’ve also withdrawn your college transfer. It really did pain me to do, I don’t like seeing you upset.” You looked up at him wide eyed and tried to process what he was saying.”But it pains me even more that you were so willing to discard me and what I felt after all I’ve done is love you.”

That rage was brewing behind his dark eyes. You realize now that it had never left, only fooled you into thinking he would bend to your will.

Discard him? What was he talking about? There was more than just insecurity behind those words. You could see the clear trigger in his entire demeanor. It was as if he was hell-bent on punishing you for something you never did.

“J-Jungkook please, I have classes I need to finish . I can’t drop out. My parents, they will-”

“Shhh, it’s temporary.” He halts your rambling with with a squeeze to your shoulder. “I can get a word in to enroll you next semester or whenever I see fit.”

That didn’t make you feel better but held back any protests.

“It’s all up to you really. It’s up you to show me when I can trust you again.” He leaned down to give you a kiss on the top of your head before brushing past you and walking back over towards the opposite side again.

“Now let’s eat, I made your favorite. I hope you like it.”

You watch him turn off the stove and you were a little surprised not anything was burnt. You let him plate the breakfast without uttering a word because all that was running through your head was how stupid you were for ever letting him take care of the transfer. You had paid a much bigger price than you thought. Jungkook was no longer satisfied enough knowing he had your body and compliance. He wanted every bit of you.

Because you suspected what had truly scared him last night.

The thought of someone else taking your mind and heart away from what he thought was already his. For what he worked so hard for. He didn’t want to share any side of you. He was frightened of what threat Hoseok and Eunji had both posed against him. He had you physically but it was breaking him inside that he didn’t have you fully yet. Mind and soul.

That was it, wasn’t it?

He wanted to frighten you and push the limits. Show a new face. A new side. Because nobody really could save you from him except himself.

He was going to show you what a mistake you made not choosing the correct mask.

—

As the weeks had gone by, you had grown more disillusioned with the hope of returning to college.

During the first week, Jungkook had not seem to be wavering on his decision no matter how much you had indirectly pleaded with him. It had been made clear that you wouldn’t get far with your methods to suck up to him in the way you had.

While he welcomed your touch and over enthusiastic displays of affection, he had only been entertaining the idea of it. It had reminded you of the time he’d seen right through your performance at the cafe but unlike then, this time he had not stopped or called you out right away.

He watched how far you’d go.

And you had gone far.

By the second week you had begin to simply cater to his every need. Waking up to cook breakfast for him instead for a change, not bothering him while he worked in his office and also cooking dinner. Then you moved on to displaying more physical attention, initiating kisses and prolonging hugs despite your racing heartbeat at the closeness. You surprisingly grew so used to it that it almost began to do on instinct. Due to spacing it out through the weeks, you had thought you’d made progress .

It was not too much all at once like your previous mistake.

Your feelings were also not entirely fabricated this time which made it more dangerous. Your attachment to Jungkook had been growing as a result of the isolation he had caused you. It had already been the case before the incident and now it only grew stronger despite your efforts to keep a level head.

But you had grown desperate when the pressuring reality hit you each night of what your parents would think of you slacking off and what it could mean to not have any future planned out. To have wasted all their efforts and money just for a stupid mistake on your part. You had not been able to even access your bank account since you had been left with no phone and you had not dared ask to burrow Jungkook’s MacBook yet in order to not draw any unnecessary attention.

You thought you could gain it all back and that you had not just tried hard enough.

However, the incident that occurred the very night you exhausted your last efforts had been a horrid and rookie mistake. It was your first and only strike up until now and the memory served as a reminder to not tread in murky waters.

~~

You waited for Jungkook’s reaction as he took the first bite. Gripping your own chopsticks tightly, you eyed the meal you had spent nearly two hours preparing, making sure you had perfected it to his liking. He nodded immediately, his doe eyes twinkling.

“It’s amazing baby.” He said in between bites, eyebrows scrunched together. “Really amazing.”

A soft sigh of relief leaves you, a smile spreading your lips.

“I was nervous, I’ve never cooked this before.” You explained, licking your lips. “I’m not much a cook though, my mom used to complain about it when I was younger.”

Jungkook hummed in response as he took another bite.

“My dad used to bake with me often though. I think I’m better at that.” The casual comment was meant to invoke the memory of the Christmas you spent with him but you aren’t sure if you succeed because his eyes drift over to center of the table.

“Are you wearing the perfume I gave you?” He asks, pulling you away from your focused script.

“Huh?” You ask then nod. “Oh y-yeah. I love it.”

He had given you a new perfume as a gift a few days ago. It was a pleasant warm rose and musk smell. The gesture came seemingly out of nowhere but the more optimistic side of you thought it maybe was due to him feeling guilty for leaving you alone here the few times he went to his father’s company for work. It would only be a couple of hours but hours felt like days when there was nothing but yourself to keep you sane.

He had not physically locked you in here. Not that you think he could anyway. But he had other ways of keeping you here, the key card he had previously let you borrow had now been revoked. He carried it with him at all times and if there was a spare one, you had not found it yet. Of course, you could physically leave and walk out but with no key, you would be forced to hang around the lobby until he came back. You were also not that dumb to try and venture off without your phone. It created too many obstacles in your head, you could get lost or something could happen to you and you wouldn’t be able to call for help. He must’ve of known that well and now that you thought it over, that was likely his main goal despite the jealousy tantrum he had tried to sell you.

Not that the jealousy had been act. You’d seen the vicious green-eyed monster take over him.

But admittedly Jungkook had already hacked your phone before. There was nothing stopping him from doing it again. Taking away your phone was a way of keeping tabs on you in another way. You felt stupid you didn’t realize it sooner though.

“I like it.” His eyes trail over you.

“Thanks. Me too.” You nod, coming to smell your wrist. “Guess you know my taste well.”

He half grins at that.

“I-I was saying that my dad used bake with me on holidays and it made me remember what my mom told me last time I talked to her.” You try to steer the conversation back.

That peaked his interest.

“What did she say?” He asked, taking a tip of his white wine.

“She said my dad had lost his job but she assured me he would find a new one soon since he’d already applied to another warehouse.”

He nods slowly urging you to continue.

“But it just makes me feel really guilty that I’m sitting here doing nothing all day while they’re working all day to….support my education. My parents are getting older.” You bit your lip, the actual guilt really hit you for a moment.

Jungkook eyes you, tapping his chopsticks against the plate.

“Do you need me to send them money?”

“No! W-What? No.” You let a breathless laugh out and shook your head. “I wouldn’t ask that. I mean I feel like it’s my fault. I f-feel like I should be doing more.”

He leans back into his seat, seemingly processing your words. Your heart is ready to jump out of your chest.

You let out a sigh and you look around the space.

“You don’t know what it’s like to grow up without finacial stability and an easy way out. But this is eating me up at night. I feel responsible for my parents and I-I am disappointing them already. Even if they don’t know it yet.”

You don’t look towards him as you continue. Feeling your throat start to close up.

“I just wish you’d ..reconsider. Going to college isn’t a threat to you-to us. I already live here and I’m with you.” You explain calmly. “If you really do love me, you wouldn’t be so careless with my future. I’ve been doing everything you want me to.”

He remains silent so you decide to add to your confession.

“I-I know you don’t trust me yet and that I haven’t earned it all. But please, keeping me away from everything isn’t going to prove my trust.” Finally, you return your gaze to him and look him straight in the eye.

“You’re only making my anxiety worse.”

With a wide-eyed expression, you raised your eyebrows emphasizing your words and waited stiffly for his reply. The TV playing in the background on low volume completely drained out as you zeroed in on him.

He let out a scoff, turning his head to the side.

The little bit of confidence you had fizzled out.

“So, that’s what all this has been about.” He confirms. “You held out longer than I thought baby.”

“No, this wasn’t just about that. I do care what you think and I did enjoy cooking for you, especially your favorite food because I-I do pay attention. I just thought you’d appreciate it more if…..if.” You stumbled over your words towards the end growing frustrated at your pleas falling on deaf ears.

“Are you done?” He asked with clear impatience when he saw you didn’t continue your rambling.

The action made you halt and stop mid sentence. You weren’t sure why but the sight of his aloofness made you cower. He was making you feel so insignificant. As if everything you said was a lie. As if he were dealing with a child instead of another equal with feelings. It reminded you of how Eunji had made you feel at times and you despised it.

You despised it because of how much you cared what he thought and felt about you.

“It’s only been a couple of weeks baby.” He coaxed you with a much nicer tone when he noticed your upset reaction. “You didn’t really think you’d sway me so easily, did you?”

Maybe you did.

You slammed down your chopsticks on the table and pushed yourself out of your chair. Jungkook followed your movements as you came to stand in front of him before you kneeled down, your knees scraping against the floor.

“Jungkook please, please.” You were out of options and resorting to the most degrading one but you didn’t care. “You need to let me go back! M-My parents… I feel stuck in here! Please!”

Reaching out to tug on his hand, your fingers caught hold of his shirt and he looked slightly surprised by your actions. His eyes widened the slightest bit as he took in your frantic state and high pitched pleas.He didn’t protest when you held his right hand with both of yours.

“Please! I’ll do anything but don’t take this away. I can’t be locked in here all day! Please!”

You felt like cowering even more under his scrutinizing eyes. His expression soon morphing into one of irritation.

“Stand up baby.” He pulled his hand away from you and wrapped an arm around your shoulder to get you back on your feet. But you didn’t budge.

He snapped your name.

“Seriously, stand up.” He demanded more firmly. Looking completely annoyed now by your antics.

“What do you think you’ll gain from keeping me from going back to university ?! I have a life to return to! This won’t make things better!” You were trying everything now. Picking holes in what you thought were his plans and ideas. Trying to shatter whatever delusion had made him come to this drastic conclusion.

He let out a low curse. The chair squeaked under him as he pushed it away from the table and turned his body towards you. He dipped his head down and tugged on your loose ponytail, the action made you immediately close your mouth and shut your eyes at the stinging pain.

“You know what I think baby?” He whispered into your ear, his breath tickling your neck.

“I think you’ve become a manipulative little bitch.”

With that he stood up and left your kneeling figure on the floor. Your hands dropped on the chair he had been sitting. You his heavy footsteps down the hallway followed by the bedroom door shutting loudly. You ran a hand through your hair and held back tears at his insult. He had never expressed himself that way about you. It left an ugly wound on your heart and it triggered the undeniable people pleasing trait in you. A feeling you never wanted to feel again.

You’d thought you’d never feel worse than how you did when you found out about Eunji’s backstabbing nature but this was ultimately worse.

It felt so much worse.

Not him.

Not him too.

~~

It had been 2 months since then.

The rest of the days after that you had spent crying your eyes out til you physically felt you couldn’t anymore. You had held a grudge against him for his cruel words and he had taken notice. The weeks that had followed had been consistent of his various forms of apologies. He’d told you he hadn’t meant it and how sorry he was for using such a nasty insult towards you. Brought you back flowers everytime he’d return back from whatever errand he went to that day. Spent the night paying extra attention to you until you’d given in to his pleading large eyes that at times resembled that of a wounded boy’s.

His sweet whispers had convinced you to the point of even more intimate forms of affection, your body falling victim to his needy touches again . In a way you’d indulged in it as form of distraction yet again. Surprisingly yourself with the way you’d tightly grip the sheets, head buried into the mattress letting out encouraging whimpers at every harsh thrust. The nights had turned into the sweet escape you needed to make up for all the hours you’d spend alone. They had felt like a reward for making it through days with no complaints.

So you had given up for the time being and taken a different approach. You weren’t sure if you’d even call it that as it was more so your way of coping with the situation.

Was it? The days had started going by more quickly and at time you found yourself wondering what you were coping with exactly.

Your days were now mainly focused on new hobbies that were done in in the comfort of the apartment. You got into scrapbooking oddly enough. The idea had come to you once you rummaged through one of Jungkook’s drawers and found a kraft paper journal. Along with some stationary items you’d stolen from him, you had began to fill out the pages with different places you wanted to visit around the world. It had been something you remembered doing once when you were in middle school but you never got to finish due to running out pages on your tiny cheap notebook.

This time, you’d glued every magazine cut out, ribbon, glitter, different stickers and wrote out reasons to visit for each place. It had taken up your time along with the books you’d get Jungkook to bring you.

Comfort could help build a glorious cage.

You’d soon realized that the time here had simply brought back you’re already introverted nature and heightened it. It made way for you to indulge in all the more small things that you had always wanted but never had the luxury of having. Everything seemed much more appealing in a large space. You’d gotten to rearrange thing to your liking, growing more bold with the way you dealt with the kitchen or bathroom supplied as if they were your own. Integrating every one of your habits with Jungkook’s. Now you rarely thought twice before waking up and starting your routine. Your focus shifting to what you should bake that day, what you should read or write in your notebook, if you would scrapbook or finish a puzzle or simply lounge around and watch TV for the rest of the day.

The thoughts of your parents and responsibilities still lingered but in a more hidden spot of your brain, coming out in infrequent waves when your anxiety would also sneak it’s way through the edges.

Your anxiety.

It had been controlled every since Jungkook had come home with your refilled prescription last month. You had no idea when he had even found your empty bottle and took it upon himself to order the refill but you didn’t complain. It had eased you with its way it had you out cold nearly every night. No more heart palpitations or sweaty palms before drifting off to a fragile sleep. It didn’t rid you of it completely of course, you had your off days where it would trigger back.

The days had become more peaceful as well as Jungkook had started to spend more time at home too and taken less trips to the company. His absence was often the reason for those flare ups of anxiousness. He hadn’t had any outbursts since that dinner disaster and the one he’d had before become more of a distant dream floating further and further. That wasn’t to say he’d let his boundaries slip away. The mention of college was still a subject you hadn’t dared bring up again, neither was the one of your phone.

It was tedious to break the habit of reaching over the nightstand to pick up your phone or the sudden urge you still got to want to look at the time or check texts and emails. It had taken you the same effort to try and convince yourself you had no assignments due anymore and you didn’t need to set an alarm for anything. It had driven you nearly mad at the beginning, given your unpleasant breakdown but your mind had latched itself onto other stimulating activities to ease it.

You turned on the faucet and rinsed off your toothbrush before opening the medicine cabinet. Taking out your anxiety meds, your eyes linger on the pill bottle you’d always see. ‘Zyprexa 10 mg’.

You pick it up and unscrew the lid, counting the pills inside.

11.

They’re had been 11 pills ever since you’d first had found them in this cabinet. You didn’t know why you bothered to count them everyday. The number never changed. Jungkook was not taking them and had not been for a while. Despite the worry that piled inside you, you had not had the courage to confront him about it. Of course you didn’t know his reasoning or the details as to why he may not be taking it. You thought over the possibility of perhaps his doctor taking him off them but it was all just a part of the many excuses you’d made for him. You knew well why you wouldn’t mention them to him. The thought of an unpleasant reaction had chained you to an invisible wall.

“You’ve become a manipulative little bitch.”

The words would too often make their home inside mind, ruining your pleasant thoughts for the day.

You screwed the lid back on and tossed them back inside. After taking your meds, you walked back into the bedroom and saw Jungkook buttoning up his loose shirt. He tucked the ends inside his well-fitted pants, the work attire hugging his frame perfectly.

“I was thinking of making brownies today.” You tell him with a yawn, rubbing your eyes as you went over to him. “Or lemon bars, I haven’t decided.”

His nose scrunched up at the word ‘lemon’. It was so animated that it reminded you of a child.

“Definitely brownies, please.” You fought a grin before your eyes took in the scrapbook that was wide open on the bed.

“You’ve added a new place.” Jungkook comments, gesturing to the addition of ‘Zion’ and the breathtaking landscape pictures you had plastered all over the two large pages.

You felt a bit shy at how nosey he had been in knowing every detail of the book ever since you’d started it. It was endearing how he’d pay close attention to every page though and how he’d encouraged you to keep adding more. He had spent one day making you describe and explain why’d you chosen each place despite the small descriptions you’d already written on them. Most had been really superficial and non-interesting reasons, you just sounded like the typical tourist. He didn’t mind though, he had rested his head on your shoulder and listened while making sly comments.

That day he’d also promised you he’d take you to every one. You’d nearly laughed in his face but he had not broken a single smile. He had been dead serious. He claimed that at least but he seemed to know why you’d find that hard to believe given the circumstances he’d put you in.

“It won’t always be this way, baby.” He said with such certainty that you needed to believe him.“I’m only trying to teach you a lesson, show you what you haven’t yet realized.”

You didn’t really dwell on what he meant by that. It was obvious enough he’d done this to get back at you but what exactly had you not realized yet? You weren’t sure. In your perspective, his motives seem to be the same as they always did.

To keep you at his side.

“I think it’s really cool. I remember looking up pictures of it one time.”

“It looks amazing, I don’t think I’ve ever visited anywhere like that.” His gaze then returned to you as he motioned for you to get closer.

You held back a gasp when he grasped your waist and pulled you into his chest, your feet lifting off the floor for a second.

“I have a surprise for you.” He muffled into your neck, pressing his lips to your skin. “God I love this smell on you.”

It was his own perfume he had gifted you a while back and you almost called out the arrogant comment but you only let out a scoff instead.

“A surprise?” Your heart had skipped a beat but you scolded yourself to remain calm. To not get your hopes up for something too grandeur. Jungkook had made it clear you had not yet earned his full trust .The path was unclear but it was considerably still long.

And that meant you couldn’t have earned your phone back.

“Have you ever been here?” You turned when you felt the loss of contact on your neck and looked down to what he had pulled from behind him. He held two tickets in his hand, your eyed read over the famous name of the theme park.

“No.” Your eyed widened as you took the tickets in your hand. “The prices were always too out of my budget.”

The popular theme park was a known tourist attraction in this city. It was the largest in the country and you had been hoping you would get to visit it when you had first moved here for college but the money would never add up. Your funds would barely cover your food expenses at times and it left little room for much else.

It felt like you had a golden ticket in your hand, a full smile broke out on your face.

“Are we really going?” You face him, the tiniest bit of doubt seeping through your tone. The slightest bit of possibility of this being some kind of test or joke had slithered it’s way into you.

Jungkook looked almost offended by the question. His eyes boring into you as he let out a short laugh.

“Of course we are baby, that’s why I bought them.” He tells you, kissing your cheek. “You’ve been such a good girl lately, you deserve it.”

You were going out.

You would be outside again and at one of the most whimsical theme parks to exist.

“And if you keep it up,” He says into your ear, fingers tracing down the edge of your shoulder.“Things might start going back to the way they were.”

His implication was clear. If you stayed in his good graces, you’d eventually get your phone back and even your college transfer back. Your future back. The freedom back.

“Really?” Your eyes tried to search for the bluff. The teasing. Anything. But it didn’t surface. He nodded and smirked at your reaction, laying another kiss to your temple.

Had that been the lesson?

He had given these things so easily and he wanted to show you how easily he had been able to snatch it right back. If you had thought had been walking on eggshells with him before, that had been nothing compared to these past weeks, months.

That was the key to the lock wasn’t it? Had that been it all this time? If you had wanted to go back to the way things were, Jungkook had to see your mind and devotion shift completely towards him. Truly towards him. Not in the way you thought it looked like it would please him. He had made it happen gradually, organically even.

But the pressing question stood.

Did you want to go things to go back to how they were?

Yes. But not so much that it hurt you if they didn’t. Like you thought it would. Like it had hurt the first few weeks.

That in itself meant you were running out of time.

Because you shouldn’t want things to go back to the way they were.

You should want to completely get rid of Jungkook and his insanity. You should want to figure out a way to escape his blackmail and invisible cage. You should want to never turn back.

But it seemed to be too late.

Because all you had been thinking about these days were how much you studied his every move, how much you had memorized every blemish or insignificant mole on his back while you drifted off to sleep. How often he’d pout his lips unknowingly when you weren’t paying attention. How much you’d wish to smooth out the crease between his eyebrows just once and be able to look at him with as much love as he looked at you.

You’d analyzed his every move, afraid of what was next but in the process you questioned why you had also memorized his every habit. His favorite foods and snacks, how surprisingly tidy he was about his closet and clothes. How normal he seemed despite the dark secrets and intentions that boiled inside him.

Because the more you stayed in his home, the more you had started forgetting what your life was before it and why those starry brown eyes seemed far more enticing than the filthy walls of a motel or the familiar humble structure of your parent’s home.

—

From the moment you entered the park, you felt your spirits go up. You didn’t know if was purely the fact that you were finally getting fresh air or that you were actually looking forward to seeing everything inside. It was jaw dropping from the get-go. You were sure your fascination came from never really attending these types of attractions as a child or teenager but this one experience seemed to make up for all of it.

During the drive here you had mentioned to Jungkook that you wanted to take pictures of everything. It was a subtle hint towards your phone but in reality you weren’t expecting him to give in to you even for that use of it. You were right of course, he brushed it off saying you could use his instead.

You gave Jungkook’s hand a squeeze when you spotted the growing crowds as you neared the some of the restaurants and rides but he gave you an assuring smile.

“You’re fine.” He tugged you into his side, the breeze felt nice on your skin.

You repeated his words in your head as you focused your attention more towards all the tall rides and characters that wandered around the area dressed from well-known fables. A small giggle leaving your lips at some of the costumes they wore. They looked ridiculously cute.

The next hour consisted of you practically dragging him around and pointing to all the types of junk food that you wanted to try. The first victim was the Fairy themed milkshakes located in the Medieval village zone. They were a baby pink and blue infusion with edible glitter sprinkled on the top of the whipped cream.

“They look so good.” You mumbled to Jungkook as you two waited for your order in front of the small stand that was shaped like a tree bark. The decorations were impressive, the led lights layered around the plastic leaves flickered but it was hard to notice them in broad daylight.

“It looks like it tastes like a bag of sour candy.” He mused, playing with the ends of your hair.

“That would taste good.”

He smiled fondly at that, laying a soft kiss on your forehead before he heard the order being called out. His delicate touch were the ones that always sent the most shivers through your body.

He brought back the obnoxious drink and you wasted no time in taking a sip. The flavor was not as strong as you thought, it tasted almost like marshmallow but with a fruity aftertaste.

“Mmm.” You exclaimed sipping more. “Try it.”

He threw out his gum that he had been chewing and took a reluctant sip of it. You watched as he smacked his lips together, making a distasteful face.

“Oh baby,” He handed you back the shake with a shake of his head. “That’s fucking awful.”

What? It had not been that bad even if it wasn’t to someone’s liking. You wanted to roll your eyes at his dramatics.

“No it’s not!” You gaped at him, taking another sip. It tasted perfect to you. “It’s probably because of your gum.”

“Sure.” He said unconvincingly before guiding you both back towards the next destination on the theme park map.

The next victims included a corn dog, some type of corn soup and an abnormal sized cookie. All delicious to you but it had not been such a good idea to eat them all at once and then begin to go on the rides. Time was passing a lot quicker than you hoped and every stop you’d make to take a picture seemed to take longer with crowds of people waiting behind you to take the exact same one. In the exactly same pose.

The sun was setting and your legs had been started to burn now but you tried your best to ignore them. Thankfully, your anxiousness had not surfaced too much today. You thought over how it would’ve been a very different story if you hadn’t been able to take your meds again. It would’ve likely made it impossible for you to make it five minutes in here , let alone half the day.

Your eyes observed as Jungkook took a picture of one of the brightly lit canoe rides under a bridge with a boyish grin on his face despite the contrasting appearance of his dark attire and inked sleeves.

If only the people around you knew how quickly he could turn it off and on. Not even the almost grudge type style could truly ever match how cynical he could be if he chose to. It was anything but a font.

Yet you almost felt required to conceal that part of him from others. A feeling of protectiveness over how they’d perceive him or judge him.

It was silly considering the average pedestrian had more to fear of him than him of them but of course feelings never took the logical route.

“Did you come here a lot growing up?” You asked him as he snapped a last photo and handed over his phone to you. You had been the one carrying it around mostly due to him growing tired of you asking for it every second you saw something that peaked your interest.

“Twice. I loved the fast rides mostly.” He replied and you remembered how he had not stopped insisting you both get on the giant anchor ride. The sight of the swinging ship was a little off-putting to say the least but you weren’t completely against the idea. You had already been on a couple of the smaller rides in the park, like the spinning seashell ride that had you almost tasting the donut you’d ate before getting on.

You stared down at his phone screen, his home screen lit up and unsurprisingly his background was now a picture of you two standing at the very entrance of the theme park with the jumbo size sign behind you.

It was weird to look at because of how natural you both looked in it. His hand wrapped around your shoulder, a grin on his face and you had placed a hand on his chest.You tried to find an indication that this looked like anything other than a normal and even corny couple picture but you didn’t find one.

Could it be that you failed to find one because that’s what it felt like when it was taken? And it was it still felt like right now.

“With your whole family?”

“Mhm.” He nodded nonchalantly as you both walked past down the sidewalk that had all the restaurants and bakery shops.“ It was mostly my mom and I though, my dad used to complain pretty early on and just let us wander the park while he sat and waited on the benches.”

“Oh.” You mumble, frowning a bit.“Did that annoy you?”

He glanced at you, seeming to think back on it.

“Not really. I don’t think I cared that much back then or noticed.” Despite the dismissive words, you couldn’t help but detect a bit of snark in his tone.

“Still, he’s your dad.” You remind him as he held the shop door open for you and you gave him a small smile before stepping inside. His hand on your back despite you guiding which direction to walk over to first.

“He is.” You hear him reply behind you.“Why the sudden curiousity about my dad baby? Do you need my entire family therapy notes?”

You grew nervous at his inquisitive tone. You had not meant to pry into his father in particular, that’s just where the conversation had fallen naturally. For the first time your intentions didn’t have much of an ulterior motive in hopes of catching him in a lie or uncovering another skeleton in his closet. It was becoming a habit to just ask him about much of anything in a way you’d ask a friend.

“I was just wondering, my parents could never take me to these kinds of things.”

You felt him look at you from the corner of your eye when you went to stand beside him to look over a pile of baseball caps and beanies on a display shelf.

“Truth is there isn’t much to say about him, good or bad. I saw him as more of a burden to me at one point more than anything.” He mutters as he lifts up a headband with mouse ears on each end and tried to put it on you before you swat his hand away.

You don’t know what to say to his passing comment. There was an urge to ask him a follow-up question to it but you decide against it.

“Look at these.” You pointed in awe at the sight of vintage themed keychains instead. The souvenir shop you were in had an European architectural style. You went to pick up a pair of tiny tea cups that had a floral pattern wrapped around the porcelain glass. “It’s all so pretty.”

The previous scenic gardens zone you had just been at had probably been your favorite place out of the whole park.Jungkook’s camera roll now full with photos of all the different colored tulips that surrounded the trail. It was one of the most popular attractions for good reason. Jungkook had followed you like a lost child when you kept speed walking towards the countless sets of floral faces.

“Pschyology,” Jungkook says as he picks up the same tea cups in your hand, inspecting them. “What made you pick it as a major?”

You give him a questioning look at the drastic subject change, tensing up a bit at thought of discussing college again considering how downhill it had gone last time you had brought it up.

“Um.” You swallow. “I’m not so sure, I felt drawn to it and it seemed like a subject I could do well in. I don’t know if that’s still true though.”

It turns out knowing your psyche and patterns so well doesn’t always save you. You felt more disconnected with it by the day.

“Is that still what you want to do?” He puts down the teacups, his fingers brushing over a set of tiny wine glasses.

“Yes. I think so.” You try not to sound too eager. It felt like such a fragile gift he could easily shatter between his fingers.

He nods.

“You don’t have to feel like you need to do it just to please your parents baby. If you have other interests , I could always open up a way for you to do them.” You aren’t sure how true that is considering he had already snatched your future away so easily until he saw fit to give it back. Who was to say he wouldn’t do the same to anything else you wanted to do? But he sounded so genuine that you wanted to believe him.

You stay silent.

“Why did you decide to study so far away from home?” His eyes study your face.

The question catches you off guard. You brought your gaze down to the items in your hands. If you lied, he would know. You were sure of it. But if you told the truth, you feared the reaction would be not much different.

He seems to understand the meaning behind your silence. A look of realization crossing his face before his gaze hardened.

“Oh.” He says dryly. “Of course.”

You felt embarrassed by it all over again. You’d already tortured yourself enough for your dumb decision when it had come to Eunji.

“At least I have one thing to thank her for then.” He grasps your chin, a small smile playing on his lips before he gives you a firm kiss. His hand wraps around your neck as he pushes you further into him.

You feel yourself melting away, your lips parting slightly allowing his tongue to slip inside. Despite the intensity, the kiss feels playful with the feeling of his other hand pinching your sides and making you yelp.

“J-Jungkook!” You hiss in a low whisper, pulling away. You glance around to make sure nobody is watching you. It always seemed mortifying to you for strangers to witness those intimate displays.

He laughed in response, walking past you to seemingly go look at something else. You felt a little breathless and your face was for sure looking flushed.

A vibration in your hand made you look down.

Jungkook’s phone had received a notification. You snuck a glance at him to make sure he wasn’t looking your direction before unlocking it. If he had a passcode, he had removed it for today so you could easily navigate his photo gallery.

You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about going through it but it had been impossible to with Jungkook glued to your side the entire time. Even on your bathroom breaks, he had not been careless enough to let you go in with it. Silently reaching out his hand to remove it from your grip before you’d slip inside.

However, the notification was not what you were expecting. It was a reminder for his mother’s birthday. Tomorrow.

He’d set a reminder? You fought a smile at that. It seemed thoughtful given how he expressed their less than ideal relationship nowadays.

You tapped on his calendar, mindlessly scrolling down and you didn’t even pretend to be shocked your birthday was on there as well but your eyes caught another date that caught your attention more. It was titled ‘FS’.

11-11-20

You frowned at it.

FS.

Staring at the date, you tried to figure out why it would be significant to him. It clearly wasn’t some type of appointment or meeting considering the difference in the way he had wrote those down. Had it been an anniversary? You thought back to when you had met him.He would be the type to write that day as your anniversary date. But this was a year too early. You hadn’t met him at the cafe until much later.

Your fingers froze the second you pieced it together.

FS.

First sighting.

“Baby?” Nearly dropping the phone at the sound of him behind you, you quickly exited the calendar app and turned to him just in time he closed in on you.

“You got a reminder for your mom’s birthday.” You tell gently and hand him over the phone, a crease forming in your eyebrow. “It’s tomorrow?”

He takes it and types something out.

“Yeah, she kept asking me if we would come to her birthday dinner tomorrow.” He tells you and you can’t detect any specific emotion from his tone.

“My dad isn’t going to make it to it again.” He looks like he’s about to roll his eyes.

His mother wanted you to come too?

“We should go.” You offer, looking back towards his phone. “I-I mean if you want to? She probably feels lonely.”

He looks up to meet your gaze.

“You want to go?”

Would he find that weird? You didn’t think so. He didn’t seem to mind last time she had come unexpectedly to the apartment.

“She was really nice to me.” You say recalling the memory that seemed far away now.

The corner of his mouth lifts up. Like it did whenever he found something you did cute or amusing.

“Sucking up to your mother in law already, baby?” He teased and pulled you in. It wasn’t that. Was it? You suppose you didn’t mind bonding with her a bit more. The idea didn’t sound terrible. The image of her or anyone sitting alone having dinner on their birthday made your heart shatter.

Would Jungkook have really let her spend her birthday completely alone?

“Let’s go, we still have one more ride to go on.” He tells you and your face drops.

“No, please.” You complain as he tugged you forward but then looked back at the tiny pair of teacups you had put back down.

“Heights aren’t really my thing, I’m gonna throw up all I ate.”

“Don’t be such a baby.” He gives you a cynical grin, picking up the teacup set. “Let’s pay for this first though.”

“I don’t need that.” You protest going to grab it from him but he pulls it up higher so you are unable to reach it.

“You didn’t put it down the entire time we were in here.”

You groan as he practically drags you towards the register.

—-

The restaurant was dimly lit. It was a bit far out of into the city, located in a more calm and pleasant atmosphere that was popular for its scenic views. You felt out of place the moment you stepped in. Evidently you didn’t look out of place though. Your appearance was funded by your boyfriend, your mid-length black dress probably cost more than your entire tuition. You would’ve confirmed it if Jungkook hadn’t ripped of the tag before gifting it to you a few days ago. You stared down at the Christian Louboutin red bottoms on your feet, you’d half expected them to sense your tax bracket and make you fall head first the second you put them on.

You switched the gift bag you were carrying to your less dominant hand when you went to greet Jungkook’s mother with a swift side hug. She looked lovely, you caught a quick whiff of her perfume before you pulled away. The scent was slightly familiar. She seemed ecstatic at your arrival, well you assumed her joy was mainly aimed towards her son but you didn’t mind being on the receiving end of it too. It felt like ages since you had interacted with anyone besides Jungkook.

Not that you necessarily minded it, you weren’t exactly equipped at social interactions with strangers as proven before. But in a way his mother didn’t feel like too much of a stranger like last time you saw her. There was an air of warmth that surrounded her that at times mirrored Jungkook’s.

“Happy birthday.” You say to her , digging your nails into your palm in an effort to calm your nerves. The undeniable awkwardness you carried was hard to mask.

“I’m so glad you could make it.” She said. Her hair was styled into a slick bun just like yours and you smiled at the coincidence. She looked more elegant this time around, her heavier makeup enhanced her most prominent features.

“Thank you for inviting me.”

Jungkook had been walking a few steps behind you and you saw his mother’s face lit up instantly when she spotted him over your shoulder . You turned your neck, watching a tense smile spread his lips as he hesitated to hug her. It was the most uncomfortable you had never seen him. As a matter of fact, it was probably the only time you had ever seen him like that.

He gave in at last, giving her a brief hug that seemed to surprise even her. Her eyes widened a bit at his short-lived contact and you wondered how long it has been since Jungkook had properly hugged his mother. Months? Years?

It seems like you weren’t the only one out of place.

You took a seat, placing his mother’s gift beside you on the floor. Your nerves kicked in at the sight of the crowded space and far too prestigious set of silverware in front of you. Jungkoook soon followed beside you, a much more relaxed look on his face now that he put some distance with his mother. The smell of his cologne hit you and it did wonders to calm your overactive senses.

It was funny to think his scent once did the exact opposite.

“You must be sad your husband couldn’t make it, I’m sorry I wish I could’ve met him too.” You commented in an attempt to break any of the awkward silence that could follow after that greeting.

It was a small fib , you weren’t sure you wanted to meet Jungkook’s father at all with the way both him and his mother had spoken about him. He seemed rather cold by their descriptions but then again, if his mother was anything like Jungkook, you weren’t sure she was the most reliable narrator.

You pushed the awfully rude thought away, not knowing where it came from. His mother had not been unkind to you and she didn’t seem to carry any of Jungkook’s negative traits at all.

“Ah, don’t be. My husband rarely attends birthday dinners. His business trips are something I’ve grown used to.” She responds as she looks down at the menu but sneaks a quick glance at you.

“You look even prettier than I remembered by the way, my son sure knows how to pick them.”

Your cheeks warm at her compliment.

“It hasn’t been that long since you saw me.” You hold back a laugh. It was probably the help of the makeup you had piled on to cover all the blemishes on your skin that had you appearing more vibrant.

“I’m getting old now. A few weeks feel like a decade.” She sighs and you can’t help but let out a laugh this time. Jungkook is silent , looking engrossed in the menu.

“You’re not old at all. You look great.” You reassured her and decide to finally start paying attention to the menu as well. However, seeing the prices made you nearly cringe.

You sneaked a glance back at his mother and then towards Jungkook. You chewed on your bottom lip as an unpleasant thought occured to you. It didn’t seem like his mother suspected you weren’t from the same background as Jungkook but what if she did? If she knew you couldn’t afford any of this, not even what you were wearing from head to toe, would she assume something different from you?

Thinking back to your previous interaction with her at his apartment, his mother didn’t really seem like the type. She had not questioned your family or background at all. She only seemed interested in you and what you meant for her son. You buried the thought away despite the feeling of embarrassment at the idea of her somehow knowing he had basically began to financially support your entire life. Among other things.

“I’ll just get whatever you get.” You muttered to Jungkook, eyeing his menu.

He frowns.

“Are you sure? You should get whatever you feel like eating baby.” His words comfort you but just by glancing at the options, you realize you don’t even know what half of it means. They don’t provide much descriptions either.

Jungkook observed you and you tried to ignore the way you could feel him already grasping your issue. Him knowing you that well shouldn’t make your stomach flip the way it did.

“That one,” He gestured to the oddly named item on the left corner. “It’s a pasta. Tagliatelle with truffle sauce. It’s really good, fits your taste I think.”

“You got that from me liking the spaghetti you made the other night?”

He gives you a teasing grin and nods. “Think of it as white spaghetti.”

Swallowing you put the menu down and tap your finger against it.

“I hope your mom likes the gift.” You really had no idea what to get her so naturally you relied completely on Jungkook to choose. It was a high end handbag he had picked out, assuring you that it would be to her liking. Maybe some flowers would’ve seemed more genuine on your part but you had forgotten to ask Jungkook to stop by for them on your way here.

“She will, don’t worry.” He pecked your lips before you could scold him. The PDA would never feel comfortable to you no matter how used you were to his touch by now. Much less with his mother as the main audience this time.

“My son has always been really affectionate. Straight out the womb, he was such a cuddly child.” His mother watched you fondly, her hands now clasped in front of her. “You two seem to match so well .”

“Yes, you mentioned he was clingy.” You blurt out before you realized what you said. It sounded a bit rude.

“I mean, as a child.” You clarify and watch Jungkook raised both his eyebrows as he took a sip of his water. He seemed unbothered by the comment thankfully.

“Yes, he was.” His mother chuckled at you.

At least they have a sense of humor. Must run in the family.

“What I mean is, I’m glad that side of him is back. I hadn’t seen it in a long time.” She explains with a more glum tone.

“And who’s fault is that?” You hear Jungkook remark.

His mother’s expression visibly falls. Her smile remained but she lowered her gaze, avoiding his eyes.

“Jungkook.” You whisper to him with an imploring look.

Instantly you feel a sense of not only embarrassment for her but deep empathy. She seemed so happy just moments ago. It was her birthday and that made it all much worse. While you knew Jungkook was far from fully reconciling with his mother, you had assumed he was on the right path at least. His mother himself had hinted at it. You had expected him to not make snide remarks at the very least.

Thankfully the waiter comes to take the orders before any of you can utter another word. You bite your nails nervously and look towards Jungkook for help in pronouncing the pasta meal. He struggles with it too but plays it off better than you would’ve. The pinch between his eyebrows was amusing and he gives your shoulder a squeeze when he notices your inability to keep a straight face.

Once the waiter leaves, you don’t know what to say to make things better. You don’t know his mother well enough to offer any sort of distraction but you wanted to lighten the mood at all costs. You never did well this sort of pressuring atmosphere, you feared you’d start to feel claustrophobic soon if something didn’t distract you too.

“Lots of children tend to be clingy I think.” You look between her and Jungkook. He gives you a thoughtful look, resting his head on the palm of his hand “But it usually fades out one way or another.”

It was a weak attempt.

“Yes, I guess that’s true.” His mother replied softly seeming to appreciate it nonetheless.

“Did you always want to be a lawyer?” Changing the subject might be for the best.

She goes on go explain that she didn’t at first and thought she’d end up becoming an interior designer due to her fascination with art when she was younger. But she ultimately decided to go to law school because her parents thought she’d strive there and have a more successful career overall. They had been right of course, she had been a top student. She claims it was hard and one of the worst experiences in her life was attending those first days of law school along with the bar exam despite her success.

You listen to her intently, nodding along to her ramblings that at moments remind you of your own. Her mannerisms continue to remind you of her son though, the resemblance still as uncanny as ever.

The food eventually arrives and that’s when you look over at Jungkook. He doesn’t seem particularly interested in what his mother is saying and you assume it’s because he must’ve already heard it countless of times before.

“What about you? I heard you’re a psychology student.” His mother questions, cutting into her steak.

You pause, your eyes slowly trailing towards Jungkook who has sharpened his gaze. But his glare is directed at his mother first before it lands on you.

A warning sits behind his eyes.

“Y-Yeah. I’m just sorta taking a short break right now.”

Take the shake of your voice. You wanted to smack yourself for having such thin skin and the complete opposite of a poker face.

“Really? Oh that’s good. I hope you find a nice career in psychology. You seem like a very smart girl.” You smile at her words.

I thought I was until I met your son. The words sat on the tip of your tongue.

“She is.” Jungkook confirms with a nod, stabbing the fork harshly into the piece of meat on his place. He raised an eyebrow at his mother. “She doesn’t need a career to prove that.”

His mother smiles, oblivious to what those words really mean for you. She swallowed her bite and looks between the two of you.

“She doesn’t but I’m sure that’s what she wants if she’s in college.”

“Mm” Jungkook muses, holding up the piece of steak on his fork as if to inspect it. “Sure, she can get a degree but I expect to take care of my wife so there’s not a need for her to stress over it.”

Wife.

A cough leaves you upon hearing that. You tried to chew down the pasta you were sure had just gotten stuck in your throat. Blinking away the tears forming, you reach over to take a sip of water.

“Oh?” His mother eyes your actions, a bit perplexed. “I suspected you two were already serious but I didn’t know marriage was already on the table. I’m glad.”

You clear your throat and wipe away your watery eyes.

“I-I,”You gape at Jungkook but he ignores you , still looking towards his mother. “Sorry I wasn’t expecting him to say that either.”

“Eventually we will. Maybe sooner rather than later.” He shrugs, bringing the fork to his mouth and chewing down the steak. “ That’s the goal isn’t it? What’s so shocking about it?”

Staring down at your plate, you swore you feel the room spin for a split second.

“No! It’s not shocking at all. I always knew you’d want to marry once you found the right person.” His mother beams, sounding much more pleased by the idea the more she talked. All her previous bewilderment gone.

“I think I’d need to mention that to my parents first.” You express and send Jungkook a puzzled look.

Your parents.

The thought of them receiving the news of you in such a serious relationship that talks of marriage were already in the air made you squirm. You had barely even admitted to having crushes back when you lived with them, let alone someone close to a fiancé. A stupidly foolish part of you at one point had fantasied about that person you’d bring home to them would be Eunji.

Eunji.

You blocked her image out entirely, aggressively burying it away.

“I think it’s time for you to let me meet them then.” He throws back in a sickeningly sweet stone that silenced you with ease.

The last thing you wanted was Jungkook within any close distance of your parents. Not with everything he had against you. He might be the only man who’s ever had your heart ache terribly like this but he was could also become the man from your worst nightmares at one wrong move . To have him face to face with the people he’d swore he’d show your darkest secrets to if you didn’t comply was something you weren’t sure you could handle yet. The very thought of it made a wave of nausea hit you. It would be such a vulnerable position.

Even though it felt like years rather than months since that video had been taped, you knew that in itself meant you had distanced yourself from it so much that a part of you felt like it never existed. That Jungkook had never done that.

That your entire relationship with him wasn’t built on lies and deceit.

The reality was too hard to face because your heart was insisting you’d give in entirely to it’s desires.

Your true desires.

And you felt like you already had.

“You haven’t met her parents?” His mother gathers your attention again. Her question lingered in the air for a few seconds before you took it in.

“Uh, no. Not yet. They don’t live close by.” You hope the excuse sounds convincing enough with your overly wide smile.

“Ah.” She nods understandably. “I hope they can meet him soon. I’d also like to meet the parents of such a lovely girl.”

“Yes, hopefully.” Twirling your fork around your plate you realize you’re not that hungry anymore.

“I didn’t see my parents much when I was in law school either and after I met my husband-”

“Excuse me, I need to use the restroom.”Jungkook announced and his mother paused mid sentence, giving him a small nod. You felt him lay a kiss on your cheek before he stood from his seat.

You watched as he walked away and disappeared into a corner.

“He gets bored easily at times.” His mother said sheepishly following your gaze.

For a second you’re tempted to ask her more about Jungkook now that the topic of conversation had shifted back to him momentarily. However, it seemed rude to try and pry about more than what you had already asked her when you had first met her. She seemed to have already over shared everything about him to you and you didn’t know if there was much else to ask. Not anything significant at least. Still you were greedy for every of untold story about him, for any of those insignificant details. Surprisingly your nosiness didn’t come from a place of pure fear this time. Your unease was accompanied with genuine concern and curiosity.

But you decided against it.It was her birthday after all. You shouldn’t risk tip toeing over a topic that could send her back to an unpleasant time period.

“I apologize for bringing you to such a crowded restaurant.” His mother says as she looks around.

The heavy murmurs and piano playing in the background fading as you focused on her.

“I know it’s not the best place for anxiety prone people. I used to hate it here too before I got used to it and fell in love with the food.” She adds with a soft laugh.

“Oh no it’s fine, really. I’ve been able to manage my anxiety a little better these days. It’s beautiful here.” You assure her and take a bite out of your food, not wanting it go to waste.

“That’s good to hear. Therapy?”

“N-No, I haven’t gone to therapy in a while. It did help me a lot though. I’m sure you know. Jungkook mentioned you also used to attend therapy regularly.” You bring your hand to your cover your mouth as you finish the bite.

You made a point to leave out the unnerving details of that story, not wanting to reveal how her son was first made aware of you. It was in fact a weird circumstance regardless if she was aware of his tendencies.

Her bright expression faltered. She stared at you for a long moment and blinked.

“Yeah.” She said after seconds of silence."Yeah, they for sure do help.”

She tilted her head to the side and focused back on her food. You notice the tiniest scrunch of her eyebrows before she sets her lips into a straight line.

That was strange.

You watch her carefully, your eyebrows furrowing as you try to decipher her reaction.

Jungkook returns a few minutes later and you plaster a smile on your face, attempting to push away the growing suspicion that settled in the pit of your stomach. The rest of the dinner goes smoothly, not anything of substance is said and Jungkook is mostly quiet. It was odd in a way to see him so closed off when it was usually you that was the silent one around people. You suppose it was due his mother’s presence being not nearly as intimidating as most people’s. Ironic considering her choice of career.

“We got you a gift.” You state the obvious once all of you had cleared your plates and a small round cake sat at the center of the table.

It had a dark chocolate spatula ribbon design on the bordes with a golden specked butterfly as the cake topper. The long wax candles placed in the middle already blown out. Your eyes had unconsciously been locked on the certain golden speckled figurine for reasons you could not begin to explain. It made you too aware of what his mother had said about the necklace.

“Jungkook picked it out so please blame him if you hate it.” You lightly joked.

“You really didn’t have to but thank you so much.” She took the gift bag from your hand, giving you a soft rub on the back when you leaned over to give her another quick hug.

You settled back into your seat and watched anxiously as she opened up the bag, shuffling through the tissue paper.

She took out the teal colored handbag and you clasped your hands together, tucking them into your chest. At first, the look in her face was unreadable as she further studied the purse. She looked in deep thought for a mere second before a smile broke out, her eyes widening.

“I-this is beautiful.” She expressed and looked over at Jungkook, you tuned to glance at him and noticed him simply watching her.

“I used to have one just like this.” You raise an eyebrow. Had Jungkook gifted her a purse she already owned? You wanted to call him out but his his mother continued.

“I lost it a long time ago. Thank you.” She told you before her gaze met her son’s again briefly. “I didn’t think you’d still remembered the exact purse.”

Looking down at the hand-bag, your eyes scanned her face before they traveled over to Jungkook’s piercing gaze. It was unflinching. He had avoided eye contact with his mother for most of the dinner but he now he seemed to be unable to look away. You couldn’t describe the way he was looking at her. His jaw was clenched but his eyes held something more.

And you swore you saw the corners of his mouth twitch so quickly that you convinced yourself it was your mind making you see things.

That same suspicion from earlier settled back into your stomach.

—-

It was stuck.

You pulled harder, letting out a huff as the bed frame legs loudly scraped against the floor tiles. Finally it moved and you slipped your head in between the small gap between it and the wall. Your hand felt for the piece of paper until you gripped the edges of it and carefully tried to scratch off the tape to not rip it apart.

Once you had it, you pushed the headboard back in place. Making sure it didn’t look slanted or out of place. Your eyes read over what you had written.

11-11-20

You were sure you would remember it without the need to write it down but you really didn’t want to put all your faith on the short term memory you possessed at the most important times. It had been the right decision because the numbers had already begun to fade when you got home that day with from the theme park. The hiding spot seemed extreme but you really knew better than to risk anything less cautious. Even more so with something that could very well be insignificant.

Jungkook didn’t tolerate secrets.

You knew that well now. Even if it was a one way street. It always would with him and you were starting to understand that, accept it even. But you didn’t know why your gut was telling you to not forget these numbers. This date. The first time Jungkook saw you in that waiting room.

But this date could be more significant in other ways.

It was a long shot. A really long shot.

And you didn’t even know why you were attempting it. You almost felt disappointment in yourself for even going behind his back again. Had you not learned your lesson? But this was innocent, wasn’t it? You were only trying to access the internet to check your bank account and emails from job offers you had applied to.

But the lie settled uncomfortably in you.

You could’ve simply asked Jungkook for his permission to use his monitor or MacBook. You were positive he wouldn’t refuse.

As long as he hovered over your shoulder while you did and you wouldn’t be able to snoop like you really wanted to.

Your thoughts threw back the harsh truth. Jungkook’s computer was the only thing you hadn’t managed to snoop through in this entire apartment. Which meant that was the closet where all his skeletons must’ve resided in. Most at least. What you were looking for exactly you didn’t know. The more you circled around the reasoning you came to conclusion that it was more so you were seeking to make sure he hadn’t done something.

Something you were terrified he’d gone through with since the second he’d made the disturbing threat.

Walking down the long corridor, you felt your heartbeat in your ears with every step. You halted in front of his office door and let your fingers close over the doorknob to pull the door open. The office didn’t look any different from how you had last seen it. You hadn’t stepped foot back inside since your last failed attempt at unlocking his computer. There was a great chance this would be your second and last failed attempt.

Stepping inside, you let the heel of your foot shut the door behind you. As you neared his desk, your eyes fell on a couple of folders and papers laid out. You pushed his chair away from his desk and took a seat on it. A paranoid thought popped into your head and you whipped your head around to check every ceiling corner of the room.

Why were you doing this? You shouldn’t be doing this.

Your hands felt sweaty clasping the mouse, the movement lighting up the screen. You gulped as you typed in the numbers from the wrinkled paper in your hand. The little loading icon that followed made your stomach churn.

You held in a gasp when the screen suddenly displayed a word document and multiple other tabs popped up.

You were in.

An unknown sensation went over you as you tried not to sit on the fact that he’d really had made that his passcode. It made your heartbeat faster than it already was.

Somehow it made you feel more guilty for doing this. You fought the urge to get up and sprint out, forgetting you had even thought of this but you stayed glued to the seat.

It took you a second to process before you read over what he had been doing before he logged off. But it was just a bunch of work documents he’d been typing out. They had his father’s company’s name on them. He had so many files too, you weren’t sure you’d be able to go through them all. You glanced over at the time on the corner of the screen, you still had plenty of time before he was supposed to be back from his errand. He had gone to drop off his car to get it detailed.

Despite that , you kept wanting to look over your shoulder at any sudden sound. You were stiff as a board as you clicked off his word document and clicked on an unnamed file. You scrolled and scrolled, your eyes trying to find something that stood out but nothing did. They all seemed work related, some even dating back to what seemed to be his college days. You moved over to his emails, squinting to read over the ones with long paragraphs. It was simply him giving detail responses to a colleague it seemed and instructions on another one. All similar subjects to his documents. Scrolling down further, you eventually came across dates that were too far back but you paused as you saw a female name on one.

A wiser woman would’ve not clicked it but your curiosity was one of your many flaws. Your eyes narrowed at the flirty message. It had also been work related and it was dated far back about more than a year ago. It seemed to be a female colleague of his and the flirtatious nature of her message had seemingly been one sided due to Jungkook’s dry response. You felt satisfied reading his lack of enthusiasm towards her, it had made you unclench your tight grip on your mouse.

Why had that made you jealous?

You let out an impatient sigh as you clicked off his emails.

What were you even thinking? He didn’t do anything.

He had been bluffing. Hoseok was fine. His family was fine. It had only been a warning and nothing more. But that gut feeling wouldn’t go away, that awful doubt rearing it’s ugly bead.

How could you be sure? You bit your nail nervously as you stared at the screen. You shakily opened the browser and went to Instagram. Logging into your account, you quickly typed in his name and easily found his profile. You weren’t sure if he had ever followed you, you hadn’t opened your instagram in a while even back when you had your phone and you couldn’t remember if you had received a notification from him. It did surprise you that he had not blocked you entirely though.

You looked through his page. It was filled with the typical selfies and artistic photos but that wasn’t what you were looking for. Your eyes landed on his profile icon, the pink and orange lining around it. Holding your breath you clicked on his story . The first slide was a picture of a sunset he had taken somewhere. He was sitting down with a paper cup in his hand.

The next slide made your heart sink.

It was a black screen with two prayer emojis on the center and your eyes quickly read over the caption underneath it.

‘update: my sister’s condition is now more stable but please continue to keep her in your thoughts & prayers. thank you for all your support, our family needs it right now.’

You let out a gasp, your face twisting in complete shock at what you were reading. This couldn’t be real. You looked over at how long ago he had posted it.

9 hours ago.

You didn’t move.

How long had his sister been in the hospital? What type of accident had she been in?

A tear slipped down your cheek as you thought about Jungkook’s words that day. What he had promised. Had he really done it? No.

No it couldn’t be right? Your breaths became more shallow as you tried to keep your emotions in check.

But why? Why would he do this after you begged him not to? To an innocent person? How could he have done this.

Had it really been him? You thought over the possibility of it being a pure coincidence. A tragic one but one that didn’t involve Jungkook at all. But even you weren’t that foolish to believe in his non-existent nobility.

He had done it. He had gone through with it.

A shuddering breath left you.

Indescribable terror shook you. Any sort of benefit of the doubt you had given Jungkook was now gone. Vanished completely. Your chains didn’t feel so invisible now with the knowledge that Jungkook had kept every promise.

“If you think I’m such a monster, I promise I will show you how easily I can make that come true for you. ”

Had he meant for you to find out?

Had he meant to hide it from you?

You really hated how you weren’t sure.

A door slammed shut.

You nearly fell off the chair by how much your body jolted.

Jungkook was back early.

—-

talk baby ⋆｡°✩

{mlb!megumi fushiguro x f!reader}

summary: it’s the season of the world series!— your little life with megumi absolutely warm and loving as you spent every waking moment together, the both of you never failing to hang out or speak to one another since the very moment you two made it official. but when the higher ups start demanding more of megumi to bring the world series home, tiring him out and causing him to lose sleep? a wedge is driven between you both as megumi tells you words he wished he’d never said.

warnings: MDNI. afab!reader, cursing, FLUFF, ANGSTYY, p in v sex, unprotected sex (wrap it yall), SMUT, baseball talk, megumi LOOVESS YOUU my goodness, DONINANT AF MEGUMI OBVIOUSLYYY, creampie, shower sex, DIRTY TALK megumi has a filthy mouth, megumi and reader get into a fight, it’s the world series, all characters are aged up.

word count: 12.5k (IM SORRY IM SORRY IM SORRY-)

authors note: THE WAIT IS FINALLY OVERRR FUCK i cannot thank you all enough for the support with these series. i saw all of your AMAZING suggestions and sprinkled them all over THANK YOU!! i POURED my heart into this and i really hope you all love itttttt :,( STAY TUNED FOR THE NEXT FIC OF THIS SERIES AAHHH!! I LOVE YOU MWAHHH <33

i highly highly advise you to read the first part of this fic or else you won’t be able to understand some of the storyline and references :( you can find it here!

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megumi fushiguro loved how much you talked.

“—and then i went to the bakery down the street from my campus to get that one coffee cake i always get? the one you brought me after my class?”

“mhm.”

“but they were freaking out of it it’s like they knew i was coming to take their stock man. it was seven in the morning how the fuck are you out of coffee cake?”

megumi laughed softly and pressed a slow sweet kiss to your cheek, readjusting his arms around your waist as he scooched your body closer to his on his lap, the both of you on his huge black bean bag that sat in his living room as he leaned the side of his head back on your shoulder, relaxed and a little sleepy.

“so then i had to go to the one on campus, even though i already know it doesn’t taste the same…” you sighed sadly. “what if they did that on purpose? what if they want me to stop coming?”

megumi huffed an amused breath through his nose and shook his head gently against your shoulder. “don’t think so baby. i feel like you keep them in business with how much you go.”

you huffed and crossed your arms, grumbling. “yet they treat me like this...”

tilting your head down then to get a better look at him, you peeked at his sleepy face and tired eyes as he tried his absolute hardest to stay awake for you, wanting to listen to everything you had to say and more, but his eyelids drooping every couple of seconds before opening back up again just not letting him.

you smiled softly and carded your fingers through his black hair, pushing the front strands back and giving him a cute peck on his forehead.

“take a nap gumi… you’re so tired i can see it.”

“uh uh.” megumi hummed.

he lifted his head groggily and propped his chin up on your shoulder, eyes closed.

“keep going.” he murmured, his words a little slurred. “did you end up getting your coffee cake from the other bakery..?”

“i did.” you responded softly, caressing your thumb over his warm cheek as your soothing voice lulled him. “it was nasty. the end. c’mon baby you have practice tomorrow—”

“no.”

“gumi it’s late i don’t want to keep you uuupp.” you whined, nudging him.

“if you sleep over.” he mumbled.

“but i have class tomorrow.”

“i’ll take you.”

“but you always do and i feel bad…” you pinched his cheek softly. “it’s okay i can—”

“don’t care.”

you giggled. “well i do. i want you to get more sleep gumi, your practices are crazy long now and you have them like everyday—”

he groaned loudly and ushered you up, you complying as you watched him lazily stand from the bean bag and grab you, baggy eyes half lidded as he picked you up from around your legs and threw you over his shoulder— something he always did ever since the day he confessed, and something you absolutely floored over whenever he did it.

your giggles rang through his quiet and spacious apartment that made him sleepily smile as he lazily carried you down the hall and to his room, setting you softly to sit on his plush bed as he pressed a sleepy kiss to the top of your head, though nearly almost missing, him leaning back up and grabbing the hem of his black shirt— pulling it over his head and carelessly tossing it somewhere in the room before climbing into bed.

you felt so so bad. the team’s schedule was released just two weeks prior, and seeing as the world series was coming up— the most important segment of competitive games they could possibly ever have, the coaches and managers were grinding and overworking their players to pure fucking filth, them wanting to keep their streak as the number one baseball team no matter what it took.

and because of that, megumi was always so tired and stressed— holding on day by day as the higher ups demanded so much of him because he was the most skilled on the team, him spending his days trying to stay awake and make time for you— picking you up from class and taking you out to lunch like he always did, but your worried gaze always on his dark under eyes as you insisted and told him already that you understood, that he didn’t need to right now if it was over the subject of his career.

and especially if it was for the world series.

“lay down.” he murmured, patting the pillow next to him as he peeked at you with one eye open.

you stood, pulled the covers back and hopped in, megumi’s arm immediately snaking around your waist and pulling your back to his bare chest, his face nuzzling in your hair as you noticed how quickly his breathing deepened, falling asleep almost the minute you got settled in his arms and fitting like a little puzzle piece.

it had been almost an entire year since you and megumi started dating, and you have never ever been happier in your life as you thanked your lucky stars over and over again for being such a dumbass— wholly believing that if one thing had changed, it wouldn’t have played out the way that it did.

and you adored the way that it played out.

megumi was so affectionate. everyday. his love language being physical touch as he literally never left you alone and always had to be touching you in any given situation— like his hand on your thigh whenever he drove, playing with your fingers from across the table while out at a restaurant… and like now, his toned body literally engulfing you into his that it made you feel so cared for and warm and loved, something you always wanted to feel for the rest of your life as long as it was with him.

the next morning he drove you to school like he said he would, and then went straight to practice after, you telling him that you would be there once your classes were over.

and when you did get to the stadium later that day, megumi was mad.

“what the fuck happened?” you quickly sat next to your best friend on the sidelines, her snickering as you both watched megumi tell off another player for fumbling a double play on the field.

“they’re making more errors today,” your girl friend sighed. “they’re all nervous since their division series game is tomorrow and they’re getting closer to the big thing… but megumi is not having it.”

“you bobbled the ball go to first fucking base and eat it what the hell are you doing trying to—”

you gnawed at your bottom lip.

it was common for megumi to bark out orders and take charge on the field, that wasn’t out of the ordinary, but it was only here and there where he was yelling and insulting the rest of his teammates like that (mostly rarely). a sign you knew was because he was stressing the fuck out.

“what you just did was a kiddie fucking error we won’t make it to the world series like this dingus the fuck are you—”

you covered your face and groaned. “i can’t watch… i don’t think i’ve seen him like this since that one day he asked me to come here.”

“you mean the day he ate you out in—”

“shuuushhh!” your hands shot out and slapped over her mouth as she let out a muffled laugh, your eyes wide and cheeks pink as you frantically looked around to see if anybody had heard her.

she took your wrists then and pulled them away. “have you guys even had sex yet? how many times am i gonna ask you until you say yes—”

you nudged her away. “no! we haven’t yet.”

you didn’t know why you hadn’t— the topic just one that was never brought up by either of you.

but you’ve definitely done other things though.

megumi was like a dog, not knowing the meaning of ‘keep your hands to yourself’ as he was always groping your ass in public out of no where just to hear you squeak in surprise, shoving his hands down your pants and making you cum repeatedly on his fingers when you’re both innocently just watching a movie on his couch, pressing his face into your tits and sucking hickeys whenever you wore a low cut shirt, and bullying his way in between your legs to lick and devour you up whenever he felt like it— all things he did with zero hesitation nor self control.

you weren’t complaining though, definitely not— you were just as freaky.

because every time megumi wore those gray sweatpants after practices that you loved oh so very much, no shirt on with his perfect toned body out only for your eyes— your mouth was on him, licking his chest all the way down to his pelvis, tugging the waistband of his sweatpants and boxers down until all that was left before you was his mlb dick, you taking him into your mouth and sucking the absolute life out of him until he was shaking and breathlessly chanting your pretty name like a prayer—

“break!”

you pulled yourself from your thoughts and stood, your eyes already watching the way megumi walked over from across the field with his head down, chest heaving and his face glistening with sweat against the setting sun, his baseball uniform covered in dirt.

both you and your girl friend walked down the steps and towards the bullpen, you quickly grabbing a clean white hand towel from the gatorade jug rack beforehand and catching up, spotting yuji and megumi already seated inside on a bench.

upon megumi noticing you coming up, he smiled softly, tiredly.

“you guys are sucking today.” your best friend deadpanned, and you elbowed her.

“no. you guys just look really nervous… is everything okay?”

you took a seat next to megumi and silently offered the clean towel, him gently bringing up your extended wrist and pecking it in gratitude before taking the towel and wiping down his face, your cheeks flushing in response.

yuji sighed deeply and shook his head, scratching the back of his neck. “everyone’s literally losing it. we win every year but each year that comes is extra added pressure to keep that up.”

megumi nodded wordlessly in agreement, his head hung.

“well this is your first bad practice isn’t it?” you softly mentioned.

“yeah… maybe it’s just today and you guys will be okay tomorrow.” your girl friend added, smiling comfortingly at yuji, him giving her the same smile back but with apprehension in his eyes.

“would’ve been fine if it was yesterday.” megumi cut in, voice monotone. “not today. not when it’s the last leg for the world series.”

he leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms with closed eyes, yuji nodding next to him.

you pulled your lips into a thin line, heavy anxiety brewing in your chest at the thought of them possibly losing before even getting into the league championships, something their team has never done before as they’ve always just gone straight through.

in order to get through to the world series, their team has to win the division series and the league championships, then they earn their rightful shining spot of playing in the world series and winning— something megumi has been a part of for almost three years now, and something the team has dominated over for five consecutive years straight.

but what if this year was different?

“how are you feeling?” you gently asked megumi after a bit. “i saw you were a little mad today on the field…”

he slowly pried his eyes open and looked at you, sighing softly through his nose.

“m’fine pretty baby.” he murmured. “they’re just not playing like they should be.”

megumi took his cap off and scratched the side of his head, his eyebrows furrowed in annoyance. “and neither am i to be honest.”

your eyes softened.

“what do you mean?”

“m’just not meeting the standards i set for myself.”

“but you play well in every game gumi..” you mumbled. “don’t overwork yourself please. just keep doing what you’ve been doing… it’s been going great so far, hasn’t it?”

he gave you a little smile and lazily reached up to delicately caress and run the ends of your hair through his fingers. “i need to amp it up though. i need to try harder.”

“try harder when you’re already winning?” you quirked a confused brow.

he nodded.

“what’s the reason behind that?”

megumi gave you a sly smile. “because you’ll be watching me.”

you gawked, shaking your head at him. “gumi, you know anything that you do makes me freak out and it’s embarrassing...” you subconsciously tugged a bit at the sides of his jersey. “the way you tied my shoes for me the other day made me freak out. the way you pumped my gas last week made me freak out. the way you stuck your fingers inside my pu—”

his eyes bulged open as he shot forward and muffled you with a kiss, you kissing him back and laughing cutely once he pulled away.

“nasty mouth…” he mumbled, but the little grin on his face made you giggle as he put his cap back on over his head and nudged it down, trying to conceal his eyes and the blushing of his cheeks— but you catching on anyways.

“how was class?” he asked quietly, readjusting his cap. “did you get your coffee cake after i dropped you off?”

you shook your head. “no because i’d rather die than get the one on campus. they need to close that place down.”

megumi snorted, but his eyebrows pinched momentarily as he took your hand in his and started playing with your fingers. “you should’ve told me. i would’ve drove you to the one you like.”

“no gumi i wasn’t gonna make you do that... i wanted you to sleep in as much as possible.”

“i’ll take you after practice.”

“no! you need to nap after don’t waste time—”

“m’not wasting time.” he replied, but before you could get another word in, his coach called all players back on field.

“i’ll see you after.” he stood and pecked your forehead. “i love you pretty baby.”

you smiled shyly, your cheeks a cute pink.

“i love you too.”

thankfully, megumi didn’t seem as pissed off for the rest of practice, and you hoped it was because of the little chat you had with him in the bullpen prior and that it cheered him up in some way— the team playing a lot better and actually working together this time instead of being at each others throats over feeble mistakes.

and when they were all finally back at the locker rooms packed up and ready to go, you organized his clean uniform for tomorrow and hung his gloves neatly inside his locker, closing it once you were done.

“you don’t have to do that baby.” he murmured, gesturing to his locker as he swung his duffel bag over his shoulder and extended a hand. “organize. i can do that.”

“but i like doing it...” you took his offering hand and interlaced your fingers with his. “it helps you find things quicker.”

you both stepped out, quickly bidding your girl friend and yuji goodbye on the way as you walked down the echoey hallway together.

“—you also don’t have to drive me to school every morning but you do that anyways.”

he smiled. “touché.”

he led you out of the arena and over to the private parking area for players and crew— him opening the passenger side door for you to step inside and shutting it after, throwing his duffel bag to the back once he got in the drivers seat.

and like he always did, megumi buckled you up himself, grabbing the seat belt strap and pulling it over you to click on the other side with a kiss to your cheek— him never letting you do it yourself since the day you two properly met.

“do they sell food at the bakery?” he looked over at you as he pulled out. “they do don’t they.”

“they do!” you nodded sweetly. “but we’re not going.”

“why.”

“because you need to sleep—”

“no.”

“megumi—”

he shot you a glare and you squeaked.

“gumi! i-i meant gumi!”

he fixed his glare and broke out into a small smile instead, laughing lightly as he set his big hand over your thigh and squeezed lovingly.

you giggled softly.

“lunch first and then i’ll sleep.”

“oh my—”

you reached over for the door handle and pulled, brows furrowing once the lock wouldn’t budge after multiple frantic tries.

“you still have child lock on?!”

megumi shielded his mouth to hide his snicker, eyes to the road.

“uh huh.”

“why?!”

he gave you a deadpanned look and pointed to the door. “exhibit a, baby. the car is moving.”

“gumi if you hate me just say that.”

pulling into the bakery’s parking lot, he playfully rolled his eyes at your comment and pinched your cheek gently.

“be quiet.”

the bakery was a cute little place that was a frequent pit stop for the both of you to pick up breakfast on the way to the things you had to do in the mornings— always cozy and warm and filled with little trinkets and postcards of places from around the world, you always gushing when you or megumi would spot a new souvenir on the walls or on the shelves, and him sometimes having to stop you from snatching some for yourself…

“they have a million!” you whispered. “they won’t notice this one. please it’s from greece it’ll look cute on my fridge!”

megumi sipped his lemonade and gave you a half lidded look as you both sat in a booth.

“i don’t know if anyone has ever told you this but.” he gently slid the coffee cake closer to you, silently ushering you to eat. “that’s called stealing.”

“not if they don’t notice.”

megumi gave you an amused smile.

“i’ll take one for you too!”

“for me?”

“yeah!” you put your elbow on the table and propped your chin on your palm, tilting your head with the cutest expression megumi has ever seen in his fucking life.

“i’d do anything for you.”

his cheeks flooded pink, and he swallowed thickly.

megumi would do anything for you.

“i appreciate that pretty baby,” he murmured, tenderly tracing the pad of his index finger mindlessly around the back of your hand.

“great! so can i do it?”

“no.”

“maaannnn!” you slumped over the table and pouted. “you’re no fun.”

he chuckled and took a bite out of his ham and cheese deli, your mannerisms sometimes reminding him of his dad.

he swallowed.

“gojo wants to meet you.”

you froze. “really? he does?”

megumi nodded.

“okay! that’s okay— wait no! wait—” you groaned and leaned against the booth. “i don’t think he’s gonna like me very much…”

“huh?” his eyebrows furrowed. “why do you say that?”

you peered up at him sheepishly. “because i talk too much… i’m not gonna notice and end up telling him my lore, my school gpa, and my social security number.”

megumi laughed, and your heart fluttered at the sight of his crinkling eyes and gorgeous smile, the sound of it making you swoon.

he shook his head and rubbed his sleepy eyelids. “no baby... he’d love you. i know he would.”

“i don’t know gumi…” you sighed, looking down at your lap. “i want to meet him of course! that’s a given… but..”

megumi quirked a brow. “but?”

“i just don’t want to look stupid…” you laughed nervously. “it’s happened before where my friends parents say i’m a blabber mouth and i don’t want to embarrass you—”

his tired eyes narrowed. “blabber mouth? who’s saying you’re a blabber mouth?”

“my— my ex boyfriend in high school…” you cowered a little. “but it’s okay because i was over sharing!—”

“no.” he said firmly, his gaze looking directly into yours. “you’re not a blabbermouth. there’s a difference between being really open and friendly with people right off the bat and being a blabbermouth.”

megumi shook his head in annoyance. how could someone ever say you were a blabbermouth? he had never heard something that was so far from the truth.

you were too sweet for your own good, that was your only fault. you considered everyone you met a close friend of yours and weren’t afraid to tell them whatever came to your precious mind and made them feel welcome— something that megumi adored so much about you… so much, and something that made him borderline violent when people berated you for it.

“they just can’t handle it when someone is actually genuine. like you. and that’s not your fault.”

the shiniest smile grew on your face then, your eyes sparkling and feeling like a million fucking butterflies were fluttering all over your tummy— internally screaming at his words.

“thank you gumi…” you spoke softly. “i’m glad at least you don’t see an issue with it.”

“i don’t.” he shook his head. “i don’t at all.”

he loved it.

the rest of your lunch date was spent with megumi still not letting you steal the greece trinket magnet from the wall, you scolding him for the bags under his eyes, and him buying you two more slices of coffee cake to go no matter how many times you told him it was okay, the both of you gathering your things and going back to his car after a bit for him to drop you off back home.

“i’ll be here in the morning to take you to class.” he said gently, turning the corner and nearing your street.

“what? isn’t the division series game tomorrow?” you asked, taken aback. “gumi no just get as much sleep as you can it’s a big day. i can take myself.”

he looked at you boredly.

“no.”

“guumiii!”

he pulled into your driveway and shifted his gear into park, the corners of his mouth turned upward into a little goofy grin.

“i can take you baby it’s fine,” he pushed gently. “don’t worry.”

“you’ve been stressed though… and tired.”

you unbuckled your seatbelt and reached over, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him in as he immediately leaned in and tucked his face into your neck, breathing in your honeyed perfume and letting himself slump into your soft frame.

“please promise me that after the division series, you’ll rest up like crazy before the league championships.” he pulled back slightly to look at you, his eyes nearly closing as he sleepily blinked. “okay?”

“league championships? didn’t know we already won.” he murmured.

you giggled. “obviously. you’re my cool baseball man, are you not?”

he tiredly grinned and pressed a sweet sweet kiss to your cheek, him biting down on it after and making you yelp before snickering and pulling away.

“bye gumi,” you quickly grabbed a slice of coffee cake and placed it on his leg. “here eat this on the way home so you don’t fall asleep.”

he chuckled and watched as you grabbed your things, hopped out, and ran across the front of his car, leaning your head in through his open window once you reached him and pressing your soft lips to his, megumi fucking melting at the feeling.

you pulled apart and he pecked you one last time— a series of i love you’s iterated before you backed away and waved excitedly from your front door, him waiting until you were inside to reverse, his engine roaring and his black car shining against the moonlight as he sped down the street.

the next morning you got up around the time that you usually did, showered and did your hair and got ready for class, packed your school bag and made your bed—

but megumi hadn’t texted you. like at all.

he usually sent you a good morning text, followed by him letting you know when he was leaving the house, followed by when he was on his way, and followed by when he was just down the street and pulling up.

except you got nothing.

you figured maybe today was just one of those days where he maybe just simply forgot and was already on his way, but as you stood literally outside of your house, gnawing on your thumb and the time coming painfully close to the start of your morning class as you still got nothing from megumi (even when you had texted him multiple times at this point), you started shitting it.

just as you were about to run inside to get the keys to your car, your phone buzzed as a picture of you and megumi flashed across the screen.

megumi!

“hel—”

“baby!—” he breathed out, frantic. “baby i’m sorry i’m so sorry i’m coming okay im down the street—”

“what happened?” you breathed out worriedly, your heart hammering against your chest.

“i overslept!—” he explained quickly. “i’m late to the team’s call time and— and you’re late to class and i— fuck!”

you heard his horn blare and his tires screech as muffled curses flew from his mouth, you jumping at the noise.

“sorry sorry someone cut me off i’m almost there—”

“no gumi go straight to the stadium you’re late!” you spoke firmly. “i can take myself—”

“no but i wanted to see you before the game—”

“it’s fine we can see each other after the game okay? when you win—” you grabbed your keys from the coffee table by your door and ran out, unlocking your car and getting in. “you’re late baby so fucking late please turn back this isn’t good coach is gonna chew you out—”

“shit! i know i know—”

“go gumi hang up it’s okay!”

“okay.. fuck okay okay—”

you heard rustling on the other line before he spoke again.

“i love you i’m sorry ill see you after!”

and the line went dead.

you slugged through the rest of your classes as the day felt way fucking longer than it normally did, you desperately just wanting to see megumi and know that he was okay, that he wasn’t in trouble with his coach and the management team for being over an hour late to the division series call time, you on the verge of literal tears multiple times over him.

your best friend and you had planned to get ready for the game together and sport your men’s jerseys from the stands— a girl’s night you were agonizingly looking forward to all freaking month, and so so excited that the day was finally here to support and be present for the making of yet another year for the boys’ team.

“and then he hung up. i thought he was gonna get into a wreck man—”

you ran your fingers through your styled hair in your vanity mirror, your best friend readjusting her jersey behind you— ‘itadori’ in big capital letters on the back.

“megumi is the most hard headed mean stubborn man i have ever come across in my life.” she searched around in her makeup bag, pulling out her lip liner and reapplying next to you. “i don’t know how many times you told him to sleep and get some rest. and yuji too! he hasn’t stopped talking about him since the schedule change and now i’m starting to think he’s in love with him.”

you laughed loudly.

“i know…” you sighed anxiously through your nose, nervous clammy jitters in your chest. “his eye bags have gotten so bad this past week.”

“i think it’s because he’s been practicing over time.”

you stopped.

“what do you mean?”

she looked at you quizzically. “i thought you knew? yuji told me that the higher ups had a meeting with megumi and told him that they were expecting him to bring the world series home.”

she popped the lid back on her lip liner and threw it in her bag. “he practices all night on the field until like four am.”

“what the fuck?” your eyes narrowed. “he never told me that? he picks me up for my seven am class everyday… that means he’s only been getting what— like two and a half hours of sleep this past week?”

she stopped. “he didn’t tell you?”

“no!” you exclaimed. “when was this meeting?”

“at the start of last week.”

“oh my god.” you grumbled.

why didn’t he tell you?

“that’s fucked up.” she shook her head. “talk to him about that after babe… i don’t know why this man didn’t tell you something like that.”

“i would’ve never let him pick me up for class if i knew this was going on…” you gloomily fiddled with the buttons on your jersey. “or hang out with me after practice.”

and why the hell were the higher ups demanding so much from megumi? why were they burning him out with a responsibility so huge as to ensuring the success of the team for the world series? that wasn’t fair to him. that wasn’t fair at all.

your girl friend hugged you comfortingly.

“it’s fine don’t worry about it okay?… just talk to him after.”

once at the stadium, you and your best friend squeezed and pushed through the crowd to get to the v.i.p. section, the both of you sweating and panting over having run across the stadium’s parking lot and the main area, all because your best friend couldn’t decide which way to do her hair, and because you couldn’t decide if you should wear a skirt or jeans.

you ended up choosing for each other and calling it a day.

“hey! you guys!”

you both snapped your heads up and you recognized the source of the voice as one of the assistant crew members of the team, jogging up to you guys with two devices in his hands.

“you guys want these radios or are you good? they’re connected to the announcers and have earbuds!”

“oh i’ll take one! thank you!” you answered politely, smiling as he passed you and your best friend a radio.

you pushed the earbud into your left ear and sat.

the crowd was buzzing and cheering with excitement, flashes of light shimmering throughout the sold out stadium as many held up posters and signs or bobble heads, you smiling wide every time you spotted a few of megumi’s face and name.

the air was warm, and every kind of news reporter, publicist, and journalist was present on the sidelines as they filmed and interviewed several players from the opposing team.

“let’s play ball!”

the crowed roared, claps and whistles ringing through the air as yuji walked out from the dugout, the both of you screaming as the rest of the team followed suit, your shoulders evidently relaxing at the sight of megumi jogging out into position looking absolutely jaw dropping in his clean cut uniform and cap, serious and focused.

as the game ensued, it was no surprise that the boys’ team was absolutely demolishing the opposing players, megumi doing fucking stellar out on the field as he caught ball after ball with his glove, the announcers commentary certainly helping with explaining the context of the game due to your lack of knowledge, but you trying your hardest anyways to understand on your own.

and finally after a while of switching sides and megumi hitting like a greek god, the teams switched sides what seemed like the final time since it was almost the nine inning, his turn to hit.

“walking up to base now… number eighteen— megumi fushiguro!”

the crowd went fucking insane as he walked up, you immediately standing and screaming over the railing as he took his position up there— swinging soft faux hits before properly adjusting his footing on the loose dirt, fans waving around their fushiguro banners or his baseball cards as he settled.

the bags under his eyes…

you gnawed anxiously at your bottom lip. his team was so close to moving on to the league championships…

“and the pitcher throws….”

hit!

“strike one!”

megumi screwed his eyes shut and grimaced, shaking his head furiously as he shook the nerves from his body and wiped the sweat from his forehead with his sleeve.

“oh!” the announcers groaned. “looks like megumi fushiguro missed a hit for the first time in history!”

for the first time?

you whipped your head around to face your girl friend. “for the first time?”

she looked at you with the same terrorized expression.

“fuck i knew he always hit but i didn’t know he never missed…” you whined worriedly. “he’s exhausted man i can see it look—”

megumi’s footing slightly slipped from the dirt as he positioned himself, getting ready for the next swing.

“and the pitcher throws again…”

hit!

“strike two!”

“fuck!” megumi roared, walking off the home plate and chucking his bat to the wall— the wood flying and clattering as it hit the ground, your eyes widening in horror.

“woah looks like fushiguro got another strike and.. needs to take a breather off the field..?”

“if megumi doesn’t get this next hit, they’re done!” your girl friend shook her head, eyes wide and afraid. “the other team is gonna take it!”

you ran your fingers through your hair exasperatedly, frantically looking at the scoreboard and back at megumi who was pacing a little off the plate with his head down, his hands on his hips.

“fushiguro!” you spotted yuji yelling from the dugout. “get back on the plate! we could get flagged!”

megumi’s chest heaved as he picked up his bat and wiped off the dirt, walking back over to the home plate and repositioning himself.

cameras flashed and recorded as he tried to get back into focus, news reporters talking their asses off and journalists scribbling god knows what— as they just earned themselves their biggest headline of the season.

megumi fushiguro missed his first hit in playing history.

“and the pitcher throws…”

hit!

“oh there it goes! looks like a fair ball!”

the crowd rallies as megumi books it over the first two bases, everyone watching as the ball hits over the outfield fence as he fucking dashes across the remaining two bases like nothing, earning himself a home run—

and scoring a spot in the league championship games for his team.

you and your best friend jump for complete joy, throwing your arms around each other and swaying as fans all around you celebrated and cheered just like the both of you, you happily watching the players from the dugout run up and engulf megumi in a group hug, jumping and laughing.

as the crowd began to disperse and take leave, you both quickly ran down the steps and to the field, you immediately spotting megumi and running up to him with your arms out.

“gumi!”

he noticed you and extended his arms, but his face read nothing as you jumped into them.

“good job good job! you did so amazing!”

“nice fushiguro!” yuji nudged his shoulder. “you brought us through!”

“i missed the first two hits.”

he set you back down.

yuji shrugged. “so? it happens. i do it all the time! you made a home run and scored us the league.”

megumi only silently nodded, his face to the ground as you told yuji and your best friend that you would see them in the locker rooms with everybody else.

and once everyone had cleared out from the field, you turned to him.

“hey…” you started. “what’s wrong?”

his eyes remained glued to the dirt.

“i missed the first two hits.”

your shoulders deflated. “you heard what yuji said… it’s okay. it was bound to happen but it’s fine because you fixed it—”

“we were on thin fucking ice today.”

his snippy tone took you by surprise a bit.

“yes… but you made it...” you responded softly. “you all pulled through. especially you.”

he scoffed and shook his head, him finally raising his baggy eyes and looking to the side, pissed.

“i almost cost us the league. that’s what i did.”

“gumi—” you exhaled a frustrated breath. “you literally played like a machine the entire time and had other hits that were amazing? i don’t understand why two little strikes—”

his eyes snapped to yours. “two little strikes?” he shook his head again. “two strikes too fucking many.”

“what is your issue?—”

“my issue is that if i fucked up that third hit it would’ve been all over. we would’ve lost the division, lost the league, and lost the world series, all because i don’t know how to fucking play ball—”

“yes you do! you’re being way too hard on yourself baby you need to take a breather and rest—”

“how many times have you nagged me about that already.” he spat.

you froze.

“nagged?” you repeated softly.

“yes. you’ve told me enough times i get it i need rest, i need sleep, i need this i need that—”

“i’m saying that because look at you!” you motioned with your hands, feeling potential tears prickling at the back of your eyes at the way he was speaking to you. “your under eyes are dark and purple, your eyes are red you look exhausted!”

“and i told you i’m fine!” he raised his voice a bit. “you wouldn’t understand the shit that i have to do for this team the shit i have to pull and i gave them absolute garbage today—”

“oh my god megumi!” you snapped. “your team is a team effort! it’s not just you! you’re not the only one pulling the stops so enough with trying to take on this load and overwork yourself! please you played amazing today everyone was cheering so loud for you and—”

“stop talking.”

you paused.

“just—” he rubbed his tired eyes and turned to the side. “just please stop talking.”

stop… talking?

he struck a chord, and you felt your heart literally break at his words, an aching heavy pit in your chest as you recounted his yelling and snappiness when all you were trying to do was help him.

thats all you’ve ever tried to do for megumi really— help him, support him, and love him. but for him to throw it all back in your face and say you didn’t understand? for you to basically shut up?

tears were slipping past your eyes at this point, and when you felt like megumi finally bothered to look at you in the face, his eyes widened and his shoulders dropped.

“baby—”

“and what about you?”

he stopped. “about me—”

“yes about you. you’re saying i don’t understand anything you’re fucking going through, as if i haven’t followed you through your career since the moment we met and before that, like i haven’t supported you on the sidelines and asked you question after question about your games just so i can fucking understand—”

“no i—”

you cut him off. “and then you’re here— yelling at me, telling me off, and telling me to shut up when i’m the only one fucking standing here with you after the game trying to be there for you?!—”

“baby— fuck i’m sorry okay i didn’t mean—”

you laughed bitterly. “you didn’t mean it. didn’t mean what? to accidentally let it slip that you actually do think i’m a blabbermouth?”

he was taken aback as his eyebrows furrowed, shaking his head desperately. “no— no that’s not what i meant at all y/n i’m sorry. i’ve been so stressed and tired and i’m taking it all out on you right now and— and that’s not okay and not an excuse.”

megumi quickly stepped forward and placed his hands on your face, but you pushed him away, hurt flashing across his eyes as you did so.

“and why didn’t you tell me about the meeting huh? the one with the higher ups last week?”

surprise crossed his face. “how did you—”

“doesn’t matter how i heard it. why didn’t you tell me? do you understand how that makes me feel when i have to find out through someone else and not my own boyfriend?”

he ran a hand through his spiky black hair and sighed exhaustedly.

“i didn’t tell you because i knew you would be upset about it and i didn’t want you to worry—”

“so you just chose to keep it from me that’s real nice.” you spat. “of course i wouldn’t be happy with it they’re stripping you down and exploiting you! how could they say that it’s all on you to bring it home for the world series? do you understand how insane that sounds?”

“i know but i can’t tell them anything i just have to say yes!” he explained.

“you have every right to tell them something! and if you would’ve communicated this with me like you should’ve done, i wouldn’t have let you lose so much sleep over me and maybe you wouldn’t have played the way you think you played, and you wouldn’t be standing here shitting all over me!”

he really struck a chord.

“y/n—”

“bye megumi.”

his breath hitched.

“no— hey don’t do that—”

he scrambled after you as you made your way out of the field, him quickly catching up and tugging you into him with his long arms around your shoulders, bringing your back to his front as he ducked his face down.

“let’s fix it please we need to fix this—”

“i want to be alone right now, megumi.” you mumbled.

god he hated how many times you’ve called him that already tonight, feeling like the biggest asshole to ever grace your precious life.

“no i don’t want you to be upset with me please—”

“we can talk later on the phone.” your tone was lifeless. “i just need to be alone.”

he faltered, feeling gutting pain cascade all over his body as he hesitantly, slowly, slipped his arms away and released you.

“o—okay.”

he watched you walk up the stands and to the exit as you clutched yourself, his eyes catching the back of your jersey reading his last name that sent an immediate pang through his chest, your frame disappearing from his view and leaving him in his stupid thoughts as he snatched his cap off from his head and threw it to the side in frustration.

that night megumi tried to call you but you didn’t pick up, you barely even answering his texts as he wallowed in self pity alone in his apartment.

and you hadn’t stopped crying since the moment your tears hit on the field— hurt and exhausted and guilty as you settled into bed, unable to bring yourself to call him and go through with your word, deciding to text instead.

(you): i’m really tired i’m sorry. i’ll see if i can call you in the morning.

megumi took no time at all to respond.

(gumi <3): can i take you to class tomorrow?

(you): i don’t think that’s a good idea

he swallowed the lump in his throat and fought back the urge to fight it, wanting to respect you and your space.

but you only kept crying.

(gumi <3): okay

(you): goodnight

(gumi <3): goodnight pretty baby

just as you were about to place your phone back on your nightstand, it buzzed again.

(gumi <3): i love you i’m sorry

you sniffled and put your phone away officially, choosing not to respond.

the following week leading up to the league championship game, megumi spent every waking moment trying to make it up to you, trying to fix it, but you only seemed to stay away from him and distance yourself, something that hurt megumi like no other.

you felt like it was your fault he played the way he did that day. if you had been smarter, more mindful, you would’ve noticed that the intensity of his exhaustion was extremely abnormal, and perhaps you could’ve done something about it before it was too late and saved yourself the dreadful fight you had with him.

you hated the way you spoke to him, and you fully convinced yourself that you only served as a distraction for him, opting to keeping your distance as far away as possible so it allowed megumi to get his head focused again and ensure a promised route to the world series— something you had hoped to be there to witness, but deeming his success way more important than your needs at this point in time.

so you stopped going to all of his practices following that day, the fact tormenting megumi as you always went to each and every single one and was there for him without fault— rain or shine, always waiting for him in the locker rooms when he was finished.

but you weren’t there anymore. and each day you weren’t was another day megumi would spend angry and frustrated with himself that he did what he did. he knew your defense mechanism was pushing people away, and your current behavior gave him flashbacks to the time last year when he was falling for you and you kept running away from him, scared— those actions a carbon copy of what’s happening now, except far worse.

and he did that to you. he yelled at you and snapped at you, told you to stop talking for some fucking reason that he still couldn’t find the proper explanation for… and he made you cry. so much. your usual sweet honeyed voice you spoke to him with long gone since that day.

and he missed you. more than anything.

“you stupid—” throw “self absorbed—” throw “asshole—” throw “narcissistic—” throw—

“okay that’s enough that’s enough!”

yuji pulled your best friend back as she chucked towel after towel at megumi following one of their practices, her absolutely fuming.

he took every hit, not bothering to dodge. he deserved it.

“she told me what you did—” she shook herself away from yuji’s grip. “what the hell is the matter with you? how could you yell at her like that on the field? when all she’s ever done is love you—”

“i know.” megumi mumbled, rubbing his eyes. “i know i’m really sorry. i regret it.”

“fuck yeah you should,” she scoffed. “that woman’s been cooped up every day in her room bawling her eyes out over you!”

yuji nodded sadly, and megumi let out a pained breath as he closed his eyes and covered his face with his hands, propping his elbows on his knees, leaning forward.

“fuck me…”

“yeah fuck you—”

“okay! okay. he’s already down let him bleed out.” yuji muttered to her as he rubbed his hands over her arms soothingly, an attempt at calming her down.

he looked at him. “megumi, you and i both know that she understands you were frustrated that day. the both of you. if you just talk to her—”

“you think i haven’t tried?” megumi picked his head up, and the both of them froze at the way his eyes glossed over.

“i’ve— i’ve called her, i’ve texted her, i drove by her house but she’s never there, fuck i even went to her campus at seven in the morning but couldn’t find her.”

he took his cap off and roughly rubbed over his eyes again.

your best friend sighed then after a moment, slowly stepping forward and sitting down next to him on the bench.

“she’ll come around megumi.” she mumbled. “just give her some time. i know it’s hard, but she really really loves you.” she sighed deeply. “she’ll come around.”

megumi nodded solemnly, and yuji stepped forward, patting his shoulder.

“you okay man?”

he nodded again.

missed phone calls, lagging dry texts, and last minute cancellations from you all happened for a week straight.

and when the time finally came for the league championships, megumi wanted nothing more than for you to be there as he stared at his messy fucking locker when prepping for the game— another reminder that you hadn’t been around, and another reminder that you wouldn’t be here tonight to see him, something he completely did not blame you for.

luckily, the league championship game was at their home base once more, and as the crowd got settled to watch, energies heightened as the players all got settled over the field to play ball— megumi shook the nerves from his body as he focused with the game, and you, on his mind like a religion.

and as the game ran on with the team scoring run after run, another win was blatantly obvious for them— megumi entirely unaware of your presence that was watching him the entire time in the stands.

you couldn’t help yourself. you needed to be there to watch him, needed to see him take home another achievement like that, regardless of where you both stood as you watched from just above the v.i.p section, shivering like an idiot because you forgot to bring a jacket after deciding to wear a flowy tube top for the day, but excited for him nonetheless.

you didn’t tell a single soul you were coming, not even your best friend as you just wanted to see megumi again before running off into the shadows of your embarrassing despair, missing him like fucking crazy and nearly sobbing when you saw him walk out on the field at the start, but even more emotional to the fact that they were actually going to move on to the world series by the looks of it.

and the crowd hollered eventually as the speakers blasted megumi’s teams signature song—

finalizing their spot in the world series.

your eyes glowed as you watched his team run up on the field and tackle each other down, literally rolling in the dirt as you giggled to yourself— sighing contently and about to turn and walk out of the stadium to go home when a strong rough hand wrapped around your bare upper arm.

“you’re fushiguro’s girl! aren’t you?”

you snapped your head up and saw someone you recognized as one of megumi’s crew members for the team, and you relaxed, trusting him.

“oh! yeah i am!”

“sweet! i just got hired to be on the crew a couple of weeks ago.”

“that’s great!” you answered politely, smiling. “how is—”

“listen i was wondering if i could get any tickets to the world series from you?”

what.

“um—” your eyes darted around awkwardly. “for— for the world series?—”

“yeah! i took this job so i could get some but apparently i need to be working longer than three weeks. dumb.”

you gnawed at the inside of your cheek as your eyes drifted downward to your arm.

he still hadn’t let go.

“oh i’m sorry.” you mumbled. “i could— i could maybe get you one? one for sure!”

he shook his head. “shit sorry, i need like five.”

“five?!” you gawked. “i can’t get you five i’m really sorry… i can only maybe get you one.”

his eyes narrowed. “why not? you’re fushiguro’s girl are you not?”

“yes but what does that have to do with me getting you tickets to the world series?” you spoke nervously, trying to put on a brave front as his height literally towered over you.

“why don’t you ask him for tickets? he’s literally megumi fushiguro i’m sure he can cough up some—”

you scoffed.

“i’m not gonna ask him anything for you just because you want to use me to get tick—”

“so then what the fuck are you with him for?” his grip tightened around your arm as he pulled you a little, and you winced.

“let go of me!—”

megumi considered himself a relatively calm person throughout his life.

he knew he had his explosive rude moments here and there, him also accidentally offending people unknowingly with his words, but that behavior only stayed on the field as it pertained to the game at hand or with baseball itself, his life outside of that a treasured tranquil one as he spent his days with you and only you, something he looked forward to every waking moment since the day he met you.

but as he heard your little voice through the yelling of the crowd, instantly recognizing it and picking up on its distressed demeanor— his body did a full one-eighty as his eyes frantically searched for you through the mass of people.

and once he did spot you? your breathtaking little self being manhandled by some fucking moron who had his hand around your upper arm?

he didn’t consider himself a relatively calm person anymore.

megumi quickly snatched his cap off and passed it to a confused yuji and your best friend, sprinting at the speed of light across the field and to the fence of the v.i.p. section before hoisting himself up and climbing, jumping over once he reached the top and landing on the stands— him running up a few steps before finally reaching you and tearing the guy off.

“get the fuck off.”

he gently pushed you behind him, his chest heaving.

“the shit are you doing hurting her arm like that for huh?!” megumi stepped forward.

“hey! hey i’m sorry man i— i didn’t know i was hurting her—”

“sure you fucking did she was literally telling you to let go and you were throwing her around like—”

“megumi please—”

“are you part of the crew?”

“y—yeah?”

“you’re gone. you’re fired you’re—”

“wait i’m sorry! i was just trying to get tickets to the world series—”

megumi’s eyes blew open, wild and infuriated.

“that’s why you were grabbing her like that? you were harrassing her for some fucking ticke— you know what—”

megumi stepped forward before you could stop him as he reeled his fist back and knocked him straight in the jaw, the guy stumbling back a bit and the crowd gasping before megumi spun around and grabbed your legs, throwing you over his shoulder.

“get the fuck out of my way.”

the small crowd that stuck around for the altercation parted with no questions asked, his long legs striding over across the exit and to the teams now vacant locker room— kicking the door open before gently setting you down on your feet.

he ran his hands over your soft hair frantically as he grabbed your cheeks and checked you over, your teary doe eyes breaking him apart.

“hey are you okay? are you fine?”

megumi let go of your face and gently lifted your upper arm, his eyes hardening at the purple forming bruise from that dickwads hand.

“he’s gone he’s gone—”

you lunged and wrapped your arms around his waist tightly as he started to charge back out, pulling him back.

“no! stop it’s okay you already hit him i think he got the message.” you mumbled, letting him go.

megumi turned to you then, his eyes softening over your timid sad frame as you played with your fingers, gaze down.

“y/n.”

“hm?”

he frowned.

“can you please look at me.”

you listened reluctantly and peered up at him.

he exhaled. “baby i— i’m sorry. i’m so fucking sorry for everything that i said to you that night. i meant none of it. nothing. i was just angry at myself and stressed and stupid and i hate that i talked to you like that and took it out on you. you didn’t deserve that at all.”

you hurriedly wiped your silent tears— nodding, but saying nothing.

he leaned down to look at you at eye level.

“are you okay?”

you nodded again and sniffled.

“talk baby.” he pleaded with you gently, eyes sad. “tell me, please.”

you cowered a little as you finally broke into tiny sobs, your hands hovering over your face to hide your tears as he placed his big hands on your upper arms, megumi feeling like he just got run over by an entire military tank at the sight of you crying because of him.

“i—i’m sorry i yelled at you—” you hiccuped. “i was so mean and i f—feel really bad—”

“baby why are you apologizing?” he shook his head. “it’s me it’s all me i’m the one who was mean to you—”

“no but—” you sniffled. “you were just stressed from the game like you said and that’s fine i should’ve been more aware. i didn’t mean to upset you with me talking—”

“oh pretty baby..” he breathed out, agonizingly, megumi literally beating himself up. “remember when i said one time you were too nice for your own good?”

you nodded.

“this is one of those moments. you should be yelling at me and throwing things at me like your best friend did.”

your eyebrows furrowed as you sniffled. “she— she did?”

“she did.” he nodded. “rightfully so.”

you giggled a little, and he smiled softly.

“i’m sorry i distanced myself the way i did…” you mumbled, a waterfall of tears coming down again. “i just thought that i was a distraction and— and i wanted you to focus.”

“a distraction?” he murmured. “y/n you are never a distraction.”

“no but at the end of the day i was…” you sobbed. “you need to be there for your team you have—“ hic! “you have responsibilities and i don’t want you to put me above that and— and keep hanging out with me when you have so much to do—”

“something you need to understand is that i’m replaceable.” he cut you off, tone firm. “the minute they find some other dude that’s way better than me and quicker than me and they draft his ass over to the team? they are going to replace me faster than you will ever think. that’s just the way jobs are. i’m replaceable no matter how much you wanna think it’s not true.”

he shook his head, his face pained. “but you are not. you’re not fucking replaceable there is no other you. you are my life now baby. yes my career is a priority, but so are you, and i would rather them replace me than lose you entirely.”

he wiped the tears from your cheeks, your doe eyes wide.

“i appreciate that you care so much and you support me and that you want me to devote all of my time to only this— you’re an angel on earth for all of that… but as your man i’m telling you that all of my time is devoted to you now, not just baseball.”

you wrapped your arms around his neck and tugged him closer to you, tight, him immediately reciprocating and snaking his arms around your waist.

he could finally breathe.

“do you understand?” he murmured softly, rubbing his hands over your back soothingly.

you nodded.

“but you can’t— wear yourself out like you did okay?” you sniffled. “you can’t let them push you and tire you out… and please listen when we say for you to rest…”

“i know i’m sorry. i’ll listen next time baby i promise.”

“i get you trying to improve for yourself and push your limits… but— but there’s a difference between wanting to better your play and straight up wearing yourself down.”

you pulled back a little to look at him, wiping your tears and hiccuping. “and i worry man… i worry so much because i—“ hic! “i love you and i always think about if you’re eating right or— or getting enough sleep—”

his heart literally melted as he felt the remains of it ooze and spread all over his body and insides, your pure sweet concerns tugging at him and turning him into absolute putty before you.

he tightened his grip around your waist and lifted you, gently rocking your bodies as you sniffled and cried, his eyes screwed shut and feeling every possible emotion a human being could ever feel… but feeling love most of all.

love for you. love for who you are.

megumi kissed your wet cheek delicately and let his lips linger there as he spoke.

“i’m in love with you…” he murmured. “i hope you know that.”

your heart fluttered and you nodded, a little smile playing at your face.

“i’m in love with you too gumi.” you hummed, pressing a sweet kiss of your own to his cheek.

he set you back down and cupped your cheeks, slowly leaning in and pressing light tender kisses to your lips, his mouth completely savoring over the taste of yours as he had been deprived of them for a freaking week— feeling like his dried up soul had been rejuvenated and made anew.

and you felt the same way… because you deepened the kiss, picked up the pace, pulled him closer until his chest was flush against yours and your hot breaths were mixed together in a misty cloud, megumi breathing heavily through his nose as he ran his needy desperate hands over your delicious body.

he trailed wet open mouthed kisses on your cheek, jaw, and all the way down to the side of your exposed neck, his hand supporting the other side as he feverishly licked a slow long stripe of spit up your neck with his rough tongue, your fists gripping the sides of his jersey as he nibbled and bit, his lips finally coming to enclose and suck around a certain spot as your breath hitched at how frenzied and sloppy he was being, drool practically running down your neck as he ravished, bit, and sucked over multiple areas.

you shoved your hands down his pants suddenly, and he choked in surprise as his hips thrusted forward, your fingers pumping and palming his hardened cock slowly as his breath shuddered against your neck.

“baby...” he murmured.

“hm?”

“how would you feel if i turned on the shower and fucked my cock in your pretty little cunt for a bit in there huh?…”

a needy whimper slipped past your lips against his ear, and he grew weak.

“is that okay—”

“more than okay—”

you squealed as he wasted no time in picking you up again and walking over to the showers, the both of you clumsily tearing off your clothes as megumi fumbled with the shower switch until luke warm water spritzed from above— entrapping the both of you in a humid trance as megumi squeezed your bare thighs and ushered you to jump, you doing so immediately and wrapping your legs around his waist.

he stepped in and literally slammed the shower door shut, the two of you giggling a little as the soothing water washed over your panting bodies, the sight of his handsome bright face making your cheeks flush and bury your face in his neck in response.

he chuckled softly, gently setting your back against the wet tile wall before kissing you again and again, his mouth messy against your puffy lips as he tried to drink up all that you gave him, the tip of his cock slipping past your folds and brushing against your swollen clit— each time making you squeak and jump.

you didn’t care about anything, your mind reeling and just wanting megumi’s dick inside of you as soon as possible, knowing that you’d never really had sex before and literally not giving a single shit because it was him— someone you trusted the most out of anyone in your life, and someone you wanted to give your all to no matter the circumstance.

he lined his fat tip then against your drooling hole.

“wait! wait the door—“ you gripped his shoulders for support. “the door did you lock it?”

“nope.”

megumi pushed his cock in slowly and gently, your choked gasps and moans echoing inside the shower as his head fell to rest in the crook of your hickey covered neck, him groaning in ecstasy as your gummy warm pussy strangled his dick to the tightest degree, already previously so wet and gushy that it thankfully barely hurt you at all as he bottomed out.

“fuuuckk— you’re warm.” he murmured, gripping your hips like a vice and softly caressing his thumb against your slippery skin to soothe you— hoping (but not really), you’d maybe release the clutch your pussy had on his dick to stop him from already shooting his cum all over your insides like a loser.

he slowly drew his hips back and fucked into you again, you jolting at the force as you fumbled to keep your grip steady on his shoulders, his cock fucking thick and massive as his little curve poked deliciously at your cervix, him gradually increasing his pace as you shuddered over the quick pat pat pat’s echoing through the walls.

“g—gumiii..” you whined.

“what baby?” he mumbled breathlessly, his eyes glued to where his dick connected with your hole as it slipped in and out lewdly, your pussy literally squelching and screaming for him with your bouncing tits in his face that made him clench his jaw in self restraint— trying his hardest not to fucking ram into you like nothing and take you.

“y—you’re biigg!” you hiccuped, your little gasps of breath enticing droplets of cum to leak out of his tip and ooze out of your little wet folds, megumi moaning at your words.

“yeah?” pat pat pat— “s’too much for you baby?”

he picked up the pace, on purpose as he meanly bounced you on his cock and shot his hips up against your pussy, his big heavy balls slapping against your ass and making your eyes fucking cross at the feeling.

“tell me you love me.” he panted. “now.”

“i—“ hic! “i love you—”

megumi grabbed your cheeks with his fingers and mushed them together, grinning deviously at the way your pouty lips pushed out cutely.

“how much.”

“s—so- ah!— so much gumi—”

“more— shit!” he choked, a particular squeeze from your abused cunt almost making him finish. “m— more than anything?”

slap slap slap—

“y—yes!—” you could barely even speak due to the erotic hold he had on your face. “i love you i love you i love—”

you squealed as he let go of your face, gave into his desires and rammed into you, both hands on your bruised hips as he gave your pussy no room to breathe with how fast he was shoving his fat cock inside of you, pounding and pummeling into your guts as your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you felt your release build up in your tummy.

“why were you asking me about the door earlier huh?” he panted. “you don’t want anyone to see how much of a” thrust! “slut you are? your legs spread for me like this and your pretty pussy creaming on my dick?”

you whined and moaned so fucking loudly, it ringing through megumi’s ears like a wicked symphony.

he pinched your nipple when you didn’t respond.

“answer me.”

thrust thrust thrust—

“n—no i didn’t!”

“no?”

he gripped your neck and sloppily ran his mouth over yours, feeling his cum on the brink of shooting out.

“m’gonna cum inside.”

“in— mmphf!— inside?”

“you don’t want it?” he let go of your neck. “cause i won’t give it to you if you don’t want it—”

“i do i do!” you scrambled and cupped his cheeks, bringing his lips back in and kissing him messily.

“give it to me gumi please!—“ hic! “eeekkk!”

hot sticky cum pumped out of his tip and into your gushy walls, your high making your toes curl as you creamed around his heavy cock feverishly, megumi’s entire body fucking shivering at the way your pussy felt like it was entirely made and molded for him.

he softly pumped himself inside and out of you, his mouth hung open in a daze as he watched his white cum slide out of your pretty hole and over his still connected dick, gently easing out after a minute and carefully setting you back down— not completely though, as he knew you’d be sore as he leaned most if not all of your body weight against him.

you held each other in a tight embrace then, your heavy breaths trying to find its normal rhythm as the warm water continued to cascade down your bodies, comfortingly.

“why don’t we have sex more often...” you mumbled.

he laughed softly, pecking the side of your head. “i was waiting for you to tell me baby. i didn’t want to pressure you.”

“i was waiting for you to tell me.” you emphasized. “i didn’t want to jump on you and just violate you—”

megumi’s chest vibrated as he laughed again, a cute boyish one that made you bite your lip.

“violate me?” he murmured, an amused smile on his face. “i’d want you to.”

“yeah?” you tilted your head, and his cheeks grew hot.

“yeah.”

finally you and megumi were in sync again, going back into each other’s routines as if the week long hiccup never happened, the both of you officially unraveling the aching knots in your chests that you hauled for seven tormenting days straight— together and attached to the hip once again as he started picking you up for your seven am classes every morning like before, you going to his practices straight after, and spending your hours sleeping in his dark cozy room this time around, snoring your little life away so megumi could recover.

and eventually, the world series arrived.

“my camera! my camera! my digital one did i bring it?!”

you flipped your purse upside down and dumped all of your things on the floor— your lip combo, compact mirror, snacks, random receipts, and small perfume bottle rolling around on the ground until your digital camera was finally in view.

your best friend cackled as she crouched down and helped you pick up your things. “you were taking pictures up megumi’s nose on the two hour drive over here yes you brought it—”

“i know i forgot i’m so nervous what if they lose what if someone fumbles what if—”

you both stood as you rambled on and she placed both of her hands on your shoulders, shaking you. “calm down! they’ll be fine! win or lose they still made it to the world series!”

the crowd roared much like the past two games, except much heavier, louder, more drilling as the music drummed through your body, the air windy but refreshing, and high pitched whistles echoing from around the stadium as everyone anticipated for the biggest game of the season.

you had lost count how many different news stations were here broadcasting the game, how many reporters you saw scrambling across the field trying to interview certain players— you too busy taking pictures of every single little thing and the both of you reapplying your lip liners over a million fucking times— even flagging down a crew member so you could take a picture with just your best friend, your backs to the camera showcasing the last names of your boyfriend’s on your jersey’s.

and when the game officially commenced and the players all went out on the field— megumi and his team did what they always do best, taking control of the scoreboard and earning runs like chump change as they worked professionally to take the trophy home, you constantly snapping pictures of megumi that your digital camera ran out of fucking storage before you even got the shot that you wanted.

eventually after a while of playing, it was megumi’s turn to hit.

“fuck! record for me please record! my camera ran out of storage oh my god use my phone please i love you—”

your best friend laughed as she took your phone from you and did what you asked, your hands on the railing and leaning over it as you anxiously watched him walk up to home plate and take position.

but instead of doing his usual faux swings and repositioned footing, megumi stepped to the side and turned his bat downward, you unable to tell what he was doing as his frame was blocking, his arm moving in various directions before he stepped back again on the home plate and repositioned himself.

your eyes trailed to the ground.

megumi had carved your initials in the dirt.

your girl friend gasped and cooed. “y/nnn!”

as megumi now did his faux swings, your bottom lip only wobbled as your eyes stayed trained to the carvings in the dirt, your heart skipping a thousand beats per minute as the thought of megumi thinking about you out there during one of the most important nights of his life, made you question repeatedly how you ever landed a man like him when all you do is talk and cry.

hit!

your eyes snapped up and you quickly wiped the corners of your eyes, megumi already running across the first two bases as the crowd roared.

“bring it home fushiguro!”

several of his teammates were cheering him on from the dugout, megumi running four runs with just one fucking hit?—

a grand slam.

and suddenly you were taken back to the day you noticed megumi for the first time, just like now with your doe eyes wide and cheeks pink, recognizing the only piece of baseball terminology you knew besides a home run.

except then he was just a stranger you were hopelessly in love with that knew how to play ball like no other.

now though, he’s a man you couldn’t ever imagine your life without. and you didn’t want to.

so as the game reached nine innings, megumi’s team running on the field in a bundle of absolute tears and yells and hollers that they won the world fucking series, all clustering together as they hoisted several players up on their shoulders, including megumi—

you and your best friend instantly booked it down there in a fit of tears.

you had no time to get your personal belongings together as you sprinted across the field like your life fucking depended on it towards megumi— him being put down by his teammates and him frantically looking around after until he spotted you, the brightest smile spreading across his face as he chucked his cap to the side and opened his arms out wide for you.

you jumped in and he spun you around, holding you tight as the screaming crowd surrounding you drowned itself out as you cried into megumi’s neck.

he pulled back, panting.

“did you see how i did a grand slam?”

you nodded rapidly.

“i did it because i knew its the only thing you would recognize!” he yelled over the noise. “so you would feel included when we won!”

oh my god.

he still remembered when you told him that?

“guummiii! how did you even calculate that?!” you cried harder, and he laughed as he spread tiny kisses all over your teary face, his eyes glimmering with absolute unadulterated happiness and bliss, the reality of having the two things he wanted most in life settling into his mind.

megumi didn’t really have a stance on religion— whether the factor is real or not something he didn’t really care about nor mind as he simply just chose to live.

but as he held you on the field, you crying for him and embracing him the way that you were, kissing him the way that you were, megumi only wanted to be covered in your favor. megumi only wanted to devote his entire life to you.

megumi only wanted to believe in you.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

taglist!! <33 (THANK YOU THANK YOU!):

@cupcaketeddybehr @soobiary @roachfun @waterfal-ling @saebaey @hiraethwa @luvvmae @cake-with-the-cream @pixie-dix @vividl3ss

TANGLED IN YOUR TRANCE • part one

𖤐 MASTERLIST 𖤐

Warnings: mentions of divorce, reader’s clothing described, use of “big brother” and “little sister”, little to no suggestion because we are not there yet

Word Count: 1.5k

Note: pink dividers by @/adornedwithlight! chapters will be longer after this one. Consider this a little introduction. Also, I’ve been asked to start a taglist, so let me know if you want in on that <3

You’re seventeen when your parents get divorced and eighteen when they remarry within two months of each other. Your dad bags a lady who’s closer to your age than his, and your mother finds herself a man who loves living in luxury as well as in debt from his uncontrollable gambling addiction.

It causes your relationships with your parents—all four of them now—to grow tense, causes you to slam doors and spit curses and cover your ears with expensive headphones (courtesy of the stepfather trying to win your affections).

The only, only good thing about your dysfunctional family dynamic is your new step brother, Toma, who you don’t actually see very much, but whatever. You’d been an only child your entire life, lived with a very specific type of loneliness that is impossible to describe, and now suddenly you have an older brother. It’s weird, but there’s an unspoken solidarity between the two of you right off the bat. The marriage between your mom and his dad is absolutely fucked from the start; you know it, and Toma knows it. Just like you both know you’ll be the ones that’ll have to deal with the inevitable fallout.

Every week you pick who you want to stay with, the lesser of 2 evils entirely based on your mood. Do you stay with your father and his irritating wife who only knows how to bond through mani-pedis? Or do you brave the big house full of fake smiles, embellished anecdotes, and late night arguments that echo through the halls?

Usually, it’s the latter that wins out. At least you can seclude yourself in your room there and no one will pester you to go shopping or get your hair done. (The new wife means well, you know deep down. She’s just so fucking annoying.)

Staying with your mom and stepdad also gives you the chance to maybe see Toma if he’s not on tour, at practice, or giving guitar lessons at the nearby music store.

He’s kind of intense, deep frown permanently etched onto his face, popping pills like candy. Usually dressed in perfectly tattered T-shirts and leather pants, his hair is bleached and spiked, one of his eyebrows is pierced—looks like he plays guitar in a metal band.

Which he does.

He isn’t your best friend. You’d barely call him an acquaintance. But every once in a while, you find yourself alone with him in the kitchen or the den. He asks simple questions to make shitty small talk, but it eventually leads you to ask about his band, which always ends in the two of you sharing opinions on music, newly dropped albums, etc.

It’s about the closest you ever get to bonding those first couple years, but it’s good enough for you, makes you feel like you’re not totally alone in the household.

The first time you find a burnt CD on your nightstand happens the same night that Toma sticks up for you at the dinner table. He’s been off tour for a couple weeks, and despite still not knowing him super well, you can tell that the stagnancy is making him cagey.

So, when your stepdad makes an offhand comment about your aesthetic—the skirts and fishnets and combat boots, it doesn’t go over well.

“All that black isn’t exactly inviting, sweetheart. You won’t find a man leaving the house looking like you’re ready to beat someone up.”

You’re used to it by now, spent most of your adolescence listening to your mom and dad bitching about the hair you let cover your face and the gory graphics on your T-shirts. This isn’t anything new to you.

However…

“Why the hell would you even say something like that?” Toma gruffs, fork gripped just a little too tightly in his hand. “The way she dresses ain’t got nothin’ to do with you, so shut your trap about it.”

“Toma—” your stepdad tries to defend.

“No. And why are you so concerned about her looking inviting? What the fuck does that even mean? You tryin’ to marry her off or somethin’?”

All your stepdad can do is get red in the face and grumble an apology, obviously out of his depth.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. Keep your shit opinions to yourself, old man.”

You flash Toma a weak but grateful smile, nods in return, and that’s that.

It’s only when you’re winding down for the night that you spot it, the clear case and the bright blue disc within. His handwriting is surprisingly legible, all caps spelling out PLAYLIST #1 followed by each track in smaller print.

You’re only a little nervous when you knock on Toma’s bedroom door. You’ve never been inside before, all the way at the end of the hallway with the door perpetually shut. Your step brother doesn’t intimidate you, exactly, you just don’t have the best read on him yet.

When Toma opens the door, he’s the most dressed down you’ve ever seen him, wearing a t-shirt full of holes and a pair of black sweatpants. His hair is down and damp, barefoot as he steps to the side, and the chain he never seems to take off is missing from around his neck.

It’s strange seeing him like this: no tough guy exterior, just a dude in his early twenties living with his parents.

That’s not to say you look like you’re ready to hit the town. Sporting an oversized Hello Kitty shirt and little pajama shorts, you were ready to crawl into bed before you found the CD. The difference here is that while you’re taken off guard by Toma’s relaxed appearance, he doesn’t even seem to notice yours. And why would he?

You hold up the disc with a raised eyebrow, “a gift?”

Toma shrugs, lifting his arm high enough to let you walk under it and into his room, shutting the door behind you. Around any other guy, an action like that would have made your stomach flip in anticipation, but not this time. Definitely not this time.

“A few of ‘em are from bands we’ve toured with, but most of it is just shit I’m into that I think you might like.”

All you can reply with is a lame, “cool, cool,” too distracted with glancing around his room.

“I’m guessin’ you haven’t listened to it yet?”

You shake your head, eyes landing back on him as he sits at an old desk, a guitar laid out in front of him. From the looks of it, he’s restringing it.

“Not yet. Saw it and just… came to say thanks, I guess.”

He nods toward the stereo system up against one of the walls and tells you, “pop it in, then. I can give you my, uh, expert commentary.”

“Wow, lucky me,” you joke, ejecting the disc that’s already in the player to replace it with yours. You hope your dry tone is enough to cover up the buzz of excitement you feel at the prospect of getting to know him a little better.

For the next hour, you halfway listen to the tracks, more interested in what Toma has to say about each of them. Some of his ‘commentary’ is about the musicality of each song, but he also tells you about how he stumbled upon the the more underground bands and what it was like to play with the ones he toured with.

You use this as an opportunity to explore his space, or the space he allows you to see. You’re not snooping in his closet or anything, but you aren’t subtle as you look over the bulletin board full of tickets and peruse his little bookshelf–music theory, some biographies, a couple of psychology books (one about gambling).

When you pick up a model motorcycle from a shelf, Toma snorts, mutters, “you really are a little sister, aren’t ya’?”

“Huh?” you put the little bike down and turn to him. “What do you mean?”

“I mean rifling through my shit is a little sister thing to do.”

“I’m not rifling through anything,” you tell him, sucking your teeth, “–rifling would be if I was, like, going through drawers or something. I am simply… cataloging.”

He snickers, shrugging broad shoulders, and for some reason you feel the need to add, “I’m not actually that much younger, ya’ know.”

“Three years.”

“Two and a half,” you immediately correct, which, granted, is a little childish, but you can’t help yourself. The last thing you want is for Toma to see you as a baby as someone he has nothing in common with, someone he’d be embarrassed to introduce his friends to.

“Fine,” he concedes, a little smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, “two and a half.”

You shouldn’t care what he thinks or how he perceives you. It doesn’t matter. He only just recently entered your life—a new, hastily written chapter in an eighteen-year-long story.

There’s a part of you, though, bigger than you’d like to admit, that desperately wants him to like you, to approve of you–just a little sister’s desire to be loved by her big brother.

𖤐 NEXT 𖤐

TANGLED IN YOUR TRANCE • M.LIST

𖤐 TOMA HIRAGI X READER 𖤐

Excerpt: He’s kind of intense, deep frown permanently etched onto his face, popping pills like candy. Usually dressed in perfectly tattered T-shirts and leather pants, his hair is bleached and spiked, one of his eyebrows is pierced—looks like he plays guitar in a metal band.

Which he does.

He isn’t your best friend. You’d barely call him an acquaintance. But there’s an unspoken solidarity between the two of you right off the bat that eventually grows into something more.

Tags: metal band AU, stepcest, stebro!hiragi, stepsis!reader, (but they meet as adults-ish), fem-bodied reader, time skips, explicit content, drug use, violence, jealous/possessive behavior, slow burn, some angst, processing feelings over time, explicit smut, added warnings before each chapter, no set update schedule

READER TAGS: fem-bodied, punk/emo aesthetic, some clothing described (skirts, fishnets, crop tops), a little mouthy, shorter than Hiragi (descriptions of looking up at him, him looming over you), hair vaguely described (no texture descriptors but having it being up in buns or down and straightened, etc.)

Note: music AUs have always been a favorite of mine thanks to all the bandom fic I used to write. Divider credit: @adornedwithlight. Fic title and chapter titles are all Sleep Token lyrics. Part of The Bofurin Brothel’s Music Notes collab! Enjoy and tell me what you think~

01. YOU AND I ARE CRASHING COURSE

02. JUST TAKE AIM; BREAK ME APART

chapter 1 : the loser in the seat next to you.

no quirk au, mentions of fighting and violence, the yakuza and my very little knowledge of it, privates schools..i have no experience w them, gang violence, found family trope my love, crime syndicate boss daughter! reader, badboy bodyguard! katsuki x fem reader, sunshine reader, reader cries and is shy around new ppl, hurt/BIG comfort, CHILDHOOD FRIENDS TO LUVERS TROPE MY STAR, almost polar opposites, jealous katsuki, reader has a last name but it will be explained later, original characters, izuku catches many strays i promise i lub him yall, touchy katsu touchy reader, slight romantic tension ouuuu, mentions of food n cooking, lemme know if i missed sum (might add more in future chapters !)

a/n : BIG 4K CHAPTER RAGHHH TYSM!!

katsuki cannot remember a single time prior to living with you that anybody had taken care of him.

he thinks his parents might’ve. he doesn’t care to remember them and it’s not like he could, he was a baby when they’d dropped him off in the shithole he called home for eleven years, but at the very least they’d tried to drop him off somewhere where he could’ve had another chance. where he could’ve been taken in by different people and were his circumstances different he could’ve ended up being someone else’s son with someone else’s last name.

but he’s not. and that’s the most care he’s been shown.

his caretakers, and he uses the term loosely, seemed to think that as long as he stayed alive, that as long as he had food is his belly and water to drink he was taken care of enough. and to be fair, katsuki thought that was enough for him too, cus he didn’t know anything else.

alliances and groups were always formed with ulterior motives in mind. associate yourself with someone stronger than you so you could stay on their good side, get in the stronger people’s good graces and rat out the ones lagging behind so you wouldn’t be left alone. they were always for protection but never a mutual one.

and that’s why he didn’t like being in groups, the thought of not knowing what all these other people who claim to be on your side truly think about you made katsuki nervous. trust was for losers like tadashi, some moron who always talked big shit just because he was apart of some well known group in town. only for him to get a tooth knocked out by one of his squad mates and ever since that day no one ever heard him speak again and everyone called him no tooth tadashi.

trust was for idiots, and katsuki was far from one. so he pushed people away, he kicked and stomped and broke people who thought they could use him for their own protection. because if there’s one thing he hates it's when people use him.

trust was for morons and protection was for weaklings, he didn’t need anyone to take care of him. he didn’t even know how to, but if this was it he didn’t want any part of it.

it’s about 9 am and you’re still in bed. katsuki thanks his lucky star because he’s sure if you ever caught him watching mr. nakazawa cook he’d never hear the end of it. and then he’d have to stop watching because you’d insist he wake you up at the same time as him.

he doesn’t know what’s being made but from the smell alone he can tell it’ll be delicious. he can’t see too well what’s happening, only being able to see and hear some rhythmic cutting and the sizzling of a pan.

“you could come over here if you wanna get a closer look,” katsuki jumps at the man’s voice, his eyes widen but he tentatively steps inside of the kitchen.

“how’d you know i was here ?” he asks quietly, the white haired man smiles knowingly, his eyes not leaving the pan in front of him.

"i've got really sharp senses on me." his hands aren't stopping in their motions, katsuki wonders how skilled you have to be to make two different motions with your hands, he can't do it.

"they're important when you're cooking, you gotta know which spices to use, make sure ya don't burn anythin'.." katsuki listens intently as the chef talks, eyes drifting towards the pan. karage pops and crackles, two omurices lay sizzling on another pan. one for you and one for him and katsuki feels his chest tingle, he still needs to remind himself the feeling isn't a bad one despite the burn he feels.

there are some fruits for dessert sitting on the side still uncut, katsuki recognizes your favourite sitting amongst them. "if you want, you could help me out. i'm kinda in need of a hand since 'im being overworked by the big boss." mr. nakazawa's voice cuts through katsuki's train of thought, he sighs like he's exhausted but there's a slight smile on his face.

katsuki looks towards the hallway before looking back at the older male "mr. matsumoto already left, though ?"

"it's miss yn i'm talkin' about, the kid can be a real handful. you wouldn't believe how much food she has me make !" he jests, and katsuki snorts to himself when he comments about how your stomach was a black hole, he agrees.

"so," the cook nudges katsuki slightly "wanna help me out ?"

and usually, katsuki doesn't help anybody, and if he somehow does it's not unless he can get something from it. so he doesn't understand why he nods so eagerly. he hates when people order him around, he never listens to what anyone has to say yet he carries you on his back when you ask and he listens immediately when mr. nakazawa asks him to go wash his hands first. he follows his instructions on how to cut the fruit properly and his end up looking a bit wonky, but mr. nakazawa tells him it's a start and he'll do better next time. next time..

katsuki's never had anybody take care of him, but his chest tightens and he thinks this might be it.

you wake up a little bit later, rubbing sleepily at your eyes only for them to bulge when you see him and mr. nakazawa in the kitchen. said man claps katsuki's back and proudly exclaims to you that katsuki had cut up the fruit you were eating. your favourite ones. katsuki feels his ears burn and he looks away, he doesn't understand why the older man is so happy and boasting about something he himself didn't do. he doesn't understand why you don't comment on how wonky your fruits looked compared to the one's the chef had chopped. instead you ask him if it's true, if he'd really cut these for you. so he nods because katsuki hates lying, cheeks and ears burning. you beam and continue eating, thanking him and mr. nakazawa for all their hard work as you happily munch away.

katsuki finally sits down next to you getting his own portion of food. he didn't get to help out much today, but he's determined to wake up earlier tomorrow so he can cook even more and cut up even more fruits for you. so he can learn to make them less wonky and have mr. nakazawa teach him more so you can enjoy more and more of the food he's made.

katsuki's never taken care of anyone because nobody ever cared for him. but he thinks that this might be it.

the first day katsuki ever goes to school, he decides he already hates it with a passion.

school itself isn't really hard. sure, it's his first day, but it's super easy. and most of the teachers are nice to him, even though he doesn't need them to be since he's had way worse. he just doesn't like the looks he gets. there's too many people in one class, all looking at him because he's new. he feels like some kind of zoo animal.

they're probably looking at him because of the stink eye he has and the glares he shoots at his new classmates. you'd told him once that some people might be scared of him because of his looks--and that was completely fine with him. he'd much rather stay in his comfort zone. he doesn't want people to look at him curiously, he wants the only reason people look at him to be out of weariness of him, like if they were to look away for even a second he'd pounce on them. he likes that.

you're the complete opposite though. katsuki thinks it's weird that you do such a big 180 when you see new people. your dad had told him that this would be both your first days since you'd been homeschooled until then. you cling to him the entire day and he doesn't mind it 'cus you always do, but you're quiet. you aren't chatty and bratty like you always are. you sit next to him quietly during breaks and at one point you don't come back from the bathroom and katsuki, who had been waiting for you ( he can't just run off, he is your bodyguard after all) gets tired of waiting and makes his way over to the girls bathroom, getting some strange looks but he doesn't care. only to stop dead in his tracks when he hears sniffling.

you're crying.

katsuki doesn't take care of people, he doesn't help people. because he's never been taken care of. or because he doesn't need it or maybe because he just doesn't know how to. but he knocks at your stall door, the door rattles with how hard he knocks at it while your whimpers make his skin itch. he tells you he'll beat up the person who did this no matter who they are and to hurry up and come out 'cus he's here.

you tell him that everyone keeps looking at you weirdly, that they whisper about you and that it makes you nervous and that you don't like it, that you want to go home. and katsuki who has no idea how to take care of people, who will probably get in trouble if someone were to see him in here but could care less because you're still crying and that irritates him, tells you that you just needed to point someone out, and he'd do it.

"i don't care if it's everyone in school, even if it's the fuckin' principal, i'll beat up everyone who looked at you weird, okay ?" he urges. so he tells you to stop crying and that he'd take you home. you ask him why, why he'd get himself in trouble for you. even though you joked the night before that if he kept looking nasty he wouldn't be able to make any friends and he'd told you to shut up.

he tells you it's because he's your bodyguard, and katsuki wonders if this is taking care of somebody too.

so yeah, school's super easy. and the teachers aren't bad, but it made you cry, and katsuki decides he hates it with a passion.

when you get to senior year, you're not sitting next to katsuki anymore.

it's been a crazy couple of years since then, and you've gotten better at interacting with people. you've made some acquaintances, but you still cling to katsuki the most. you don't have him carry you on his back (as much) anymore but you've still kept some of your older routines. katsuki's gotten better at cutting up your fruits and cooking in general, so much so that you insist on him cooking your lunch everyday. katsuki tells you not to be stupid, that you should learn to cook on your own. but he helps you like mr. nakazawa once did for him, sure not as gently but considering his line of work he doesn't need to be. and you're learning so that's a win.

he's come a long way from weekly training sessions with your dad and your other uncles. he still isn't allowed to go out on missions that involve killing, that's one thing he is strictly forbidden from asking for. but he gets to go along with other squad member on what your uncle takashi called a règlement de compte. basically, a bunch of dumb french words to say he finds people that fucked with members of his squad or their turf—and fucks them up good.

this is what he's good at, what he's good with. he's good when there's no talking involved. when it's just flying fists and the familiar sting of his knuckles and the adrenaline pumping through him. he hates it when people underestimate him, especially because they're older than him. but he thrives off the looks of fear they give him when he ends up rocking their shit. he's undefeated and the most feared member of his squad and he feels like he's a little kid again. when whispers of him would circle and even just a glance at him made people backtrack in fear. some even called him matsumoto's mad dog, and it's something he's insanely proud of.

and of course, he's still your bodyguard.

but in school he's none of that. he's just katsuki bakugou. a boy some teachers call a delinquent who looks kinda scary. and the boy who never starts fights, but always finishes them.

and then there's you, who hangs out with him everyday. you who calls him katsu or suki and other cheesy stupid nicknames. who pulls his cheeks up to get him to smile more and look him straight in the eyes and tells him he'll get wrinkles by next year if he keeps looking nasty.

you're a sweet little thing. you help your classmates and you get along with them easily. you do good in the subjects you like and manage in the ones you don't as long as katsuki tutors you. you're funny, and you're easy to get along with and your smile absolutely lights up the room (you didn't hear that last part from him though).

on the surface, your father owns a pretty successful business. which landed you both into a private school. katsuki hates how he has to wear the same annoying uniform every day and he'd ditched his jacket not too long after getting it. you'd enjoyed it at first, but you quickly got tired of it too, although you still keep your jacket and added some cute socks to add your own personal touch to it.

from elementary, middle and high school you've always consistently sat right next to katsuki in class. he never admitted it but he really liked that. not only because you were the only person he liked tolerated at school, but also because he could pick on you and poke you with his pencil. you could whisper dumb jokes to each other and he could easily pass you crudely drawn notes of the teachers you disliked. he remembers one time you'd gotten in trouble and had to clean up the classroom as punishment after class. but you got in trouble together and you ended up messing up the classroom even worse than it was before, but you'd had a blast and you walked out of school right next to him.

but this year, you're not sitting next to him anymore. you're sitting next to some new kid.

he reminds him of one of the golden boys at his old orphanage so much that katsuki wonders if he'd ever seen him before. izuku midoriya looks like if the teacher spoke any louder while introducing him he'd piss his pants. katsuki fights the urge to scoff.

he looks unbearably plain. boring, uninteresting and every other adjective. the green haired boy looks like he'd get bullied by the janitor. like he'd fall onto the floor and apologise to the floor for being in its way.

basically, he looked like a loser.

and he's the one who sits next to you.

katsuki's been moved to a row behind and across from you, next to somebody he can't be bothered to remember the name of. on the very first day nothing happens, he watches you greet the freckled boy politely and he squeaks out something to make you laugh, it's probably stupid.

the next day, midoriya forgets his literature book, so you share yours with him. katsuki would've just told him it was too damn bad but you're not like him. your shoulders brush when you sit closer to him so you can both look. you flash him a smile and the boy flushes all the way to his ears, so stupid.

throughout the week you keep talking with midoriya. katsuki doesn't understand what's so special about a seemingly boring guy, when you've literally got a bodyguard. (it's not like the others know, but still). you keep touching him, too. you always let him borrow the notebooks he forgets and you even fixed his tie once. katsuki doesn't wear his tie, he'd stopped wearing it back in his freshman year, but he wishes you'd fix his too. it's childish and it's stupid.

on the way home, you mention how nice izuku is. he's forgotten that was the loser's name and something ugly flares up inside him when you say his name like that, all sweet and stupid and mushy. the tone you use when you want him to make you pancakes because he does them so well. he acts like he doesn't care.

katsuki doesn't sit next to you anymore, but at home it's just you and him. and when it's just you and him you have your weekly movie nights on weekends, a tradition for years now that katsuki has stopped pretending to be upset about. you and him, sharing popcorn and your finger brushing and you sleeping against his shoulder when you get tired. when you fall asleep and katsuki watches your lashes as you dream, it's just you and him.

a few weeks later, you stay behind after school. apparently izuku needs some help with maths. and you're sweet and different from katsuki who would've told him it was his loss, so you'll be home a bit later. katsuki can't control the muscles in his face in time because he makes a face, but he shrugs and turns away. (not before watching you happily skip off with the freckled loser, who mirrors your expression. he watches your lips move, and he wonders what you're talking about.)

katsuki thinks it's stupid. why does he have to listen to you ? he's your bodyguard, he's supposed to stay and keep you safe. but that smile on your face while you talk to the other guy, that would be too much for him.it irritates him to think about it. so he grips his bag tighter, clenches his teeth and walks back alone.

he can't ask you how it went when you get home because he has another score to settle with some no name gang. it irritates him, but he thinks he can blow some steam by punching someone's face in. he doesn't want to admit that he thinks about that freckled fucking loser when his fist makes contact with the bastard he had to find. because that's stupid, and katsuki is far from that.

he'd been more careless than usual tonight, so when he comes back you see the small cut on his nose. you're whining about how he should be more careful despite knowing what line of work he's been put in. it's irritating but katsuki doesn't want to admit that it doesn't bother him as much today. he wants to ask you how your little study date went, but he can't fix his lips to, he hates the way that sounds. and you're already dragging him off to your room where your medkit is. katsuki wants you to smile at him.

katsuki sits down onto your bed, your soft sheets make contact with his skin, he tries his best not to dirty them. your rooms changed some throughout the years, your interests changing along with you.

the first time you'd tried to patch katsuki up was when he was 14 and he'd gotten into a fight. he can't remember what for, but he does remember how you cried. he didn't understand why you did at the time, especially since you were angry at him too, so it confused him even more. you tussled a bit when katsuki refused you but a bandaid on him, saying he could do it by himself. then you'd screamed at him, your voice cracking and breaking, eyebrows furrowed. he can't remember what you'd said fully, too shocked by your expression. wether it was that he was too stubborn for his own good or that he could get an infection. he sat still after your babbling and you both sit quietly. you finally press the bandaid to his face and while you cleaned up his knuckles, you whispered.

"i really don't like it when you get hurt."

you know he's your bodyguard, that sometimes he just has to get hurt. 'cus he's apart of your dad's clan and they get hurt too. they got him out of the nightmare he lived in and it wouldn't be fair that he didn't get hurt as well. your bandages are a little loose because you'd never done this before, but katsuki doesn't say anything. after you'd finished he mumbled "i won't let anyone get a hit on me anymore."

i'll be more careful, i won't worry you anymore. i won't get hurt, so don't be sad.

you're eyes shine and you hug him tightly. his bandages are coming loose already, but he'll fix them later. he won't tell you, because you want to take care of him. he doesn't need it or want it. but his knuckles feel better and his chest feels warm, in the good way. he feels his arms wrap around you. you feel warm just like him, and he thinks this is it.

katsuki snaps out of his thought when your bed dips and he sees you. your eyebrows are pinched in worry.

"what happened ?" you're not looking at him, already cutting up some bandages.

"wasn't paying attention, bastard got a hit on me. won't happen again." he scoffs, you huff a light laugh. looking up at him mischievously. "thought you said nobody would get a hit on you anymore ?" you giggle, just the sound of it has his ears burning.

"shut up, told you it won't happen again." he scoffs, pushing at your arm. you shake your head affectionately, gesturing for his hand and he gives it to you (reluctantly). your skin feels softer than the sheets, katsuki has to keep his heart in check. "anything else hurt ?" you ask, katsuki grunts and you eye him.

"katsuki—"

"no. nothing hurts, m'good. drop it." it comes out rougher than he means, than he means with you. but you simply roll your eyes, already used to his moods. "if you're worried about me, you shoulda seen him." he huffs proudly. "i don't think i want to see that." you snort, katsuki rolls his eyes.

he wants to see you smile like you did before. what could that other guy have said that made you laugh so hard ? that makes you touch him and fix his tie and makes you stay behind at school with him ?

katsuki wonders if you have a crush on the loser in the seat next to you. he's your bodyguard, yet the ugly little feelings rears its head again and he can't help himself.

"how'd your date go ?"

fucking shit.

you blink, then snort "what date ? i was helping izuku out with math, i told you that." the bandaid around his knuckles tightens "don't say stupid stuff."

his chest feels just a bit lighter, but he still hasn't gotten to his goal just yet. "better be careful, next time he'll ask you for help fixing his diaper. fuckin' crybaby." katsuki barks a laugh when you slap his shoulder, holding back a smile of your own. he lifts your head up with his unoccupied hand. you grab at it to push him away "m'not done yet, stop it !" you squeal.

"no worries, i won't tell anyone," he smirks, you poke at his cheek with a smile "it's just us, princess. promise i won't ruin your image." he still calls you that princess nickname, because you're snobby, bratty and spoiled, but it's a bit more affectionate in the roughness of his voice that only you catch on to. you try not to look too affected by it with an eye roll. your hand flies away from his face when he snaps at your fingers.

"you're such an asshat." you huff, the smirk on his face makes your heart thump. "swear." he teases, you push at his arm with a chuckle.

you like hanging out with izuku, at first because he was fun to mess with and he looked cute when he got all blushy. but he actually is really interesting to talk to and he's funny when he isn't in his own head. he reminded you a little of yourself on your very first day of school. it's something you don't want to remember but he seemed so lost. you're glad you got to sit next to him.

but you do miss sitting next to katsuki.

"it's weird not sitting next to you anymore.." you're done bandaging his hands and start tackling his nose. before katsuki can respond you utter a quick "this'll hurt a bit," and press a cotton wad to his nose. he hisses at the sting and you apologise but he waves you off with a grunt.

katsuki can't stop looking at your little frown and sad little puppy dog eyes. and he can't help but want to tease you.

"yeah ? you miss me ?" your insulted expression is everything and he can't help but snicker, until you press the little wad harder against his nose. "fuck !" he hisses. he grips at your hand, pushing the cotton wad towards your face. he manages to nudge it against your cheek and you shake your head, you squirm around and he manages to land on top of you. you both don't realise, katsuki too focused on trying to get back at you.

he catches you off guard when he manages to grab your wrist, throwing them against your bed. and then you realise how close he is to you when his breath fans across your face.

"what're you mad at me for ? don't get embarrassed 'bout the truth," his laboured breaths is all your ears pick up on. you feel hot where his hands grip yours. they're a little moist, he's always been a bit sweaty around his hands but just maybe it has something to do with how if he were to lean in just a bit more your noses would touch. katsuki forgets he's your bodyguard and does so. you gasp at the contact, both your breathing gets harder.

"you fuckin' miss me," he breathes. you scowl up at him, lips slowly forming into a pout.

fuck, you look cute. and fuck, he wants to kiss you.

katsuki thinks maybe you don't have to smile at him. as long as you're looking at him, even just like this, that's more than okay for him.

"dick," you spit, you continue when you look towards your wall "what if i do ? you're my best friend."

no, he isn't. he's your bodyguard. it's the job he'd been entrusted by your father, it's why he's been agreeing to your every bratty whim for years now, 'cus it's his job and your dad trusts him and he owes the man his life. it's why he lets you take care of him and watch movies with him and sleep on him when you're tired.

but his chest feels warm, and his grip on your wrist tightens.

"you're such a baby," it's mean, but his eyes soften and his lip grazes your forehead. it's not even a kiss, barely a touch of his lips against the crown of your head. but your eyes are soft and he's sure his are too. he lets go of your wrists and presses his forehead to yours "m'still here y'know ? even if it's not next to you every class. don't go writin' me off."

you giggle, and you place your hand against his cheek. katsuki doesn't need to be taken care of and he's your bodyguard but he leans into your warmth lightly. your other hand reaches for the cotton wad that luckily landed next to your head during your little scuffle. you wipe his nose just like that. it's quiet and he doesn't rip his gaze away from yours, his eyes look gooey and melty like caramel. they're soft and warm and firey and so handsome. you finish by pressing a little bandaid to his nose and as thank you for taking care of him katsuki smooshes his nose to yours to make you laugh.

and you smile, in a way he knows the loser in the seat next to you never could make you. not because he's your bodyguard but cus he's your best friend, your katsuki who cuts up apples to look like little bunnies for you and the one that ties your shoe laces before you could even look down and notice they were untied, the one who brought you home. the one who'd been sitting next to you every day and will keep doing so for as long as he lives even if he can't at school.

katsuki remembers you telling him that the four bodyguards before him were no fun. that they didn't speak or play with you, but that he was your favourite. that he could be really nice and when you lean up to jokingly give him a get better kiss right on the tip of his nose, he scrunches it up and you giggle, and katsuki remembers that he's your favourite.

he'd told you he was the best and he intends on staying your favourite, so he stuffs his face in your neck and blows raspberries in it to make you giggle and to make you kick your legs he tickles you. he can admit that most bodyguards wouldn't do that. but he's your best friend, and he can admit you're his too.

WHEEW CHAPTER TEWW !! loved writing this i hope yall enjoy ! this chapter was softer but i promise i'll start getting more active later on !! just wanted to have a sorta soft kindaaa in verse katsu character study kinda chap if that makes sense :> hope yall look forward to more chapters ! (p.s. i was really excited to write this part so please don't think every chap is going to come out this fast lol 🩷💗!!!!)

taglist ! : @bkgpackets @erenstitanweave @flowershop1340 @kovu-bunnbunn @queenpiranhadon

"an inconvenient attachment"

Pairing: sae x fem!reader Genre: fluff with smut, fwb to lovers, minors dni! Summary: what you and sae have is completely casual— or at least it’s supposed to be. he’s fine with it at first, until he starts to realize how much he actually likes being around you. now he’s starting to wonder if casual is enough. WC: 20k+ (haha, i’m in danger) Warnings: nsfw, some pwp (mostly plot though), alcohol, casual/no strings sex (until it isn’t 😉), car sex, fingering, light choking, reader and sae are in their mid-20s, reader is also incredibly forward and kind of shameless lmao, pro!athlete sae, big time jealousy, misunderstandings, lots of pining but also lots of denial, sae being annoying and bad at feelings but also very much into you A/N: watched bluelock for the first time this past year and immediately fell victim to the itoshi brothers. consider this an ode to my suffering <3 -Dawn

Sae doesn’t really know what the two of you are to each other.

He knows you hate driving in the rain and love reading at the park, just like he knows how you take your coffee and what your voice sounds like when you first wake up in the morning, all sleepy and soft.

He also knows what you look like tangled in the sheets of his bed, just like he knows how to make you fall apart with his mouth and hands and tongue. He takes pleasure in leaving you bleary-eyed and breathless, in watching you grip at his sheets and drag your nails across his skin as you say his name again and again.

But when it comes to your current relationship, to what the two of you actually mean to each other? Sae has no idea. You’ve never bothered to put a label on it. He figures you’ve never felt the need to, even though normally you’re the kind of person who labels everything, from the colorful tabs in your planner to the glass containers in your pantry.

Not that Sae has any room to judge. He hasn’t made much of an effort to define things between you, either. He’s not one for titles or attachments, least of all romantic ones. He never has been, and that’s something he made clear to you from the beginning, long before the two of you ever shared a bed and started whatever the hell this thing is that exists between you now.

If he’s being honest, Sae didn’t really think much of you at first. He remembers meeting you, completely against his will, at a party he never wanted to attend in the first place, one that his teammates insisted on dragging him to.

In the beginning, you were just another face in the crowd, the best friend of Aina, Oliver’s notorious on-again, off-again girlfriend.

Sae never planned on seeing you again, much less actually getting to know you. In fact, he was fully content to forget you completely, but he couldn’t. And it wasn’t because he had a change of heart or because he was particularly interested in you, but because you made it practically impossible to ignore you.

You, with your ridiculous laugh and your know-it-all demeanor and your unreasonably animated way of talking. It’s no surprise that you were an instant hit amongst his teammates. They all took to you right away, captivated by your quick comebacks and witty humor, by your easy confidence and natural charm.

And though Sae will never say it out loud, he could admit, even back then, that he understood the appeal, at least in a general sense. You’re smart and funny, not to mention daring and lively, with the kind of effortless charisma that makes everyone want to be around you.

You laugh at his dry humor and unapologetic bluntness, but you also don’t hesitate to call him out when he’s being a dick. And it doesn’t hurt that you’re completely gorgeous, either, a vision in smooth satin and shimmery lip gloss whenever he sees you on nights when his teammates actually manage to bully him out of his apartment.

Soon you’re everywhere, laughing during game nights at Oliver’s place and rolling your eyes in the background of Shidou’s Instagram stories. Sae doesn’t accept their invitations to go out too often, but when he does, you’re always there, just as much a part of the group as everyone else is— even more than Sae is, most of the time.

You cheer him and the rest of the team on at games, send him new recipes to try and stupid videos he only sometimes replies to.

And inconveniently, inevitably, you start to grow on him.

Then one night, against his better judgment, he offers to drive you home from the bar, and to his surprise, you accept.

Sae’s not entirely sure why he does it. After all, it’s unlike him to inconvenience himself or go out of his way for the sake of others. But then he remembers the cheeky way you were acting with him earlier and decides it’s worth it, if only to see what you’ll do.

There’s always been a certain kind of tension between you and Sae, an unspoken chemistry neither of you has ever been able to replicate with anyone else. He’s never acted on it, of course. He’s never felt the need to, until now.

You’ve been flirting with him even more than usual tonight, brushing your hand against his arm and leaning in close to whisper in his ear. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t like it.

Sae has always appreciated how forward you are, how honest. You’re the kind of person who always speaks your mind, who never hesitates to go after what you want. It’s part of what makes him respect you so much.

It’s also why he doesn’t bother to stop you. Why he doesn’t push you away from him, no matter how close you get or how bold your hands become. It does something to him, he realizes, having you touch him so casually. Makes him possessive in a way he never expected he’d be over anyone, least of all you.

Still, he doesn’t take it as anything more than what it is. You’re always like this, all playful and coy, especially after you've had a shot or two. He knows better than to think it means anything. He takes it upon himself to drive you home anyway, the idea of you being so casual and touchy with any of his other teammates leaving a sour taste in his mouth.

You look unfairly beautiful sitting in the passenger seat of his car, all smooth skin and smokey eyes, jacket sliding halfway off your shoulders as you wave your hands around and tell a story he’s only half-listening to. You’re absolutely stunning and therefore annoyingly distracting, not that he’ll ever grant you the satisfaction of telling you that himself.

The lot behind your building is quiet when he pulls his car in, empty. You unbuckle your seatbelt and thank him for driving you home, but make no move to leave.

Sae notices but doesn’t call you out on it, dismissing your gratitude with his usual impassiveness. He also doesn’t stop you when you reach out to touch him. Your fingers brush against his collar, smoothing over the fabric on his shoulder.

He has makeup on his shirt, you tell him. It’s yours, of course, the shade of the smudge an identical match to the color staining your lips. It must’ve happened when you leaned in to talk to him earlier.

Sae isn’t surprised. You’re the only person he lets be that close to him, the only person he wants that close. And right now, you’re smiling like you already know, like you revel in it.

“Sorry about that,” you say, without an ounce of guilt in your voice, dragging your nail over the stain.

Sae watches the way you watch him, the way your eyes drift down to stare at his lips. There’s something wanting and possessive in your gaze, something he thinks has been there for a while now. “No, you’re not.”

“You’re right.” The laugh you give is shameless, your smile brazen as you move your hand from his shoulder to his chest, fingertips skimming against the buttons of his shirt. “I’m not.”

You kiss him, then, a heated and hungry thing as bold and unapologetic as you are. He surprises himself by letting you, tilting his head to deepen the kiss and dragging your bottom lip between his teeth, a calloused hand moving up to cradle your jaw.

Soon you’re kicking off your heels and shrugging off your jacket, tossing it blindly into the backseat and climbing over the center console. You settle into his lap like you belong there, straddling his thighs with your bare knees. He trails his lips along your throat and chest, pressing open-mouthed kisses against your heated skin and pulling down the front of your dress so he can reach more of you.

His hands push the skirt of your dress up and over your hips, palms smoothing over your skin, and you tug at his hair, pressing your body firmly against his. The movement is exactly what you both need, your hips grinding into his lap.

You both groan when the head of his cock catches against your clothed center. You roll your hips into his again, chasing the friction, his grip on your hips turning bruising.

Sae presses a hand between your legs and pulls your underwear to the side, just enough to run a finger along your slit and gather the wetness there. He lets out a strained curse and drags his teeth along your throat when he feels how warm and wanting you already are, all because of him.

That’s all the convincing he needs to fuck you open with his fingers, while you grind yourself down against his hand, making breathy little sounds in his ear that he decides he wants to hear more of. You undo the buttons of his shirt and tear the material open, hands roaming over his chest as much as the limited space will allow.

It’s not long after that you decide you want more, undoing the button of his pants and yanking down his zipper with little restraint. He mutters something about you being an impatient brat under his breath, but he doesn't stop you.

Instead, he lets you pull his leaking cock out and wrap your hand around his shaft. He bites back a groan as you squeeze him at the base and move your hand up and down in slow, even strokes, smearing precum along the length of him.

You surge forward to kiss him again, and it’s all Sae can do to meet you halfway, curling his fingers inside of you and making you gasp against his lips. You cling to his shoulders and whisper into his ear, telling him how good he feels, how badly you want him inside of you— all of him, this time, not just his fingers.

Your words go straight to his already painfully hard cock, making him buck up into your hand and reach out blindly for the condoms he keeps in his car. You end up beating him to it, fumbling for only a moment before pulling one out of your purse and tearing the packet open with your teeth.

You don’t waste any more time after that, rolling the condom down over his length while Sae slips his fingers out of you and plants his hands on either side of your waist. You line him up with your entrance and sink yourself onto him with a gasp, hips pressing flush against his as you moan and dig your nails into his skin. He tightens his grip on your waist and muffles his own moan against your lips, the kiss he presses to your mouth all tongue and teeth.

You ride him, head thrown back and lips parted, while he leans back to watch you with half-lidded eyes, taking in the sight of you fucking yourself on his cock and pushing his hips up to meet yours.

You look absolutely breathtaking, hips rolling and circling as you gasp out his name and tell him how deep he is and how good he’s making you feel. One of his hands presses against your throat while the other squeezes at your hip, helping you lift yourself up and sink back down to take more of him.

With his lips mouthing at your neck and his thumb drifting down to rub circles into your clit, it isn’t long before you find yourself tipping over the edge. He follows you almost immediately after, spurred on by the scrape of your nails against his scalp and the tightening of your walls around him.

You’re both panting when it’s over, foreheads pressed together and hearts racing as you slump against one another and try to catch your breath. You recover faster than he does and press a parting kiss to his lips that feels almost too sweet after what you’ve just done, climbing off his lap and over the console on shaky legs.

You almost slip when you do, his hand shooting out to steady you at the last second. You laugh while he rolls his eyes and tells you to be more careful, keeping his hand on your hip until finally you settle back safely into the passenger seat.

You’re both quiet as you set to work on fixing your clothing and cleaning yourselves up, redoing zippers and clasping buttons in an effort to make yourselves look presentable again.

Sae finds himself grateful for the silence. It gives him the chance to process exactly what’s just happened between you, and —more importantly— to decide what’s going to happen after.

The sex was good, obviously. Better than good. The best he’s had in a while, maybe even the best he’s had ever— though he thinks he’d rather die than be caught saying any of that out loud. He imagines it must’ve been the same for you, if the way you moaned his name and fell apart around him are anything to go by.

Still, Sae knows himself, which is why he knows better than to allow it to mean anything. He doesn’t need a relationship right now, nor does he particularly want one. He likes you well enough, in a way that makes him view you as slightly less irritating than he does everyone else— but wanting you and wanting to be with you are two very different things.

And at this point in his life, Sae doesn’t want to actually be with anyone, not even you. He doesn’t have the time for it, and even if he did, he wouldn’t have the patience.

Sure, he’s dated before, but it was never anything serious. Never anything real. All of his previous relationships —if one could even call them that— were just for show, nothing more than publicity stunts orchestrated by his PR team with models and socialites he’s never really cared about.

Most of them understood the arrangement quite well, knowing it wouldn’t last. Some of them didn’t and tried to make it into something more, but it’s never worked. Sae’s never allowed it. As a result, he’s become an expert at shutting people down, at crushing their hopes of receiving anything more than what he’s willing to give them.

He tells you as much after you’re both dressed again, fully prepared to disappoint you and the hopes you’ve no doubt allowed to build freely inside your head. He’s not cruel enough to say it in a way that hurts you —at least not on purpose— but he wants to be honest. The last thing he needs is for you to get the wrong idea and start thinking that this is going to change anything between you.

“You should know,” he starts, serious and stoic as ever, “I’m not looking for a relationship. The only thing I’m interested in right now is soccer.”

He pauses, bracing himself for your reaction, for the moment when his words finally sink in and you realize that he has no intention of taking this any further. He watches your face carefully, mentally preparing himself for what he knows is going to be the inevitable fallout.

He’s spent enough time with you by now to know you’re not really the crying type, so he’s comfortable with knowing that he at least won’t see any tears. He does, however, expect some swearing on your part, maybe even a little bit of yelling, just enough to let him know that you think he’s an asshole.

To Sae’s surprise, none of that happens. There’s no anger, no confrontation, no fallout. Instead of shouting at him and telling him to go fuck himself, the way he initially expected you to, you smile at him and slip the straps of your dress back up over your shoulders, nodding like this is exactly what you were expecting, like you couldn’t agree more.

“Yeah, I figured as much,” you say, laughing lightly, casually, as you finish readjusting the rest of your clothing. “Your emotional unavailability kind of gave it away. Well, that and your apathy, though I’m starting to think the latter is less of a relationship deterrent and more of just you being yourself.”

You aren’t wrong, of course, but the bluntness of your words still makes him scowl, which in turn just makes you laugh even more.

“Hey, I never said I didn’t like it.” You slip your heels on your feet and lean down to secure the straps, though not before sending him a teasing grin from over your shoulder. “I’ll have you know, emotionally unavailable and apathetic is exactly my type. Helps if they have pretty eyes and great hair, too.”

Predictably, Sae ignores your blatant flirting in favor of rolling his eyes. Still, he doesn’t hesitate to help when he sees you struggling to retrieve your jacket from the backseat, reaching behind him to grab it and offering it to you with ease.

“Seems like an easy way to get yourself hurt,” he deadpans, before you get the chance to thank him.

“You’re such a pessimist, Sae.” You roll your eyes at his response, but the smile you give as you take your jacket from him is grateful and genuine. “My point is, if you’re worried about me reading into things, don’t be. I’m not expecting anything from you. If we’re being honest, I’m not really looking for anything serious right now, either.”

He knows you mean it —you’re too honest not to— but he raises an eyebrow at you, anyway, examining you carefully for even the slightest hint of doubt.

“So you’re really okay with things staying the same between us?”

“Of course I am. I wouldn’t have kissed you if I wasn’t. But you have my number if you ever want to do this again.”

You gather the rest of your things before leaning over and pressing a quick kiss against his cheek. It’s light and offhanded, free of any pressure or expectations. Then you smile at him, lifting your hand to give a little wave.

“I’ll see you later, Sae.”

You leave his car with that smile still on your face and your purse in your hand. He watches you go, not taking his eyes off of you until you make it inside your building. You don’t turn back to look at him once.

And though he tries not to —though he likes to believe he’s above such baseless, lukewarm desires— he thinks about your offer on the way home.

It doesn’t take him long to make up his mind.

He texts you three days later. The messages are short and to the point —boring, he knows you’d call them— just a simple ’hey’ followed by a blunt ’wanna come over?’ that he regrets sending almost immediately after it goes through, mostly because he knows you’re never going to let him live it down.

You don’t disappoint, replying back a few minutes later with a ’damn already??’ and an ’it was that good huh 😏😌🤪’ that he pointedly ignores. He threatens to block you, you laugh at the message, and less than an hour later, you’re at his door.

This time, Sae’s the one who kisses you first, easing you onto his bed and pushing your thighs apart so he can slot himself between them. His lips trail down your neck, his teeth nipping at your throat. His hands are everywhere, roaming over your body and helping you slip out of your clothes until you’re completely bare beneath him.

He makes you cum twice with his mouth, another time with his fingers— and only then does he finally slide himself into you, hands gripping your thighs and chest pressing into yours.

Practice was cut short today in favor of a press conference Sae couldn’t have cared less about, so he has a lot of pent-up energy, which he immediately sets on using to throw your legs over his shoulders and thoroughly fuck you into his mattress.

You don’t complain about it, either, too lost in the pleasure of it all to scold him for the tight grip he has on your hips or the way he’s nearly folding you in half beneath him. You even make a joke about it afterwards, muttering something about how they should cancel his practices more often.

“But only on the weekends,” you add seriously, trying to catch your breath. “The last thing I need is my co-workers watching me wobble into my office because of it.”

Sae actually laughs, though he tries not to. You beam at the sound, only to end up flipping him off moments later, when you rise on trembling legs in search of your clothes and catch him smirking knowingly at you.

And it’s simple, he thinks, doing this with you. Simple and comfortable and not the least bit complicated, which is exactly how he likes it.

You must feel the same way, because the next time it happens, you’re the one who calls first, inviting him up to your apartment and latching your lips to his neck before he’s even fully through the door.

You never really talk about it, nor do you establish any real boundaries beyond that initial conversation you had that first night in his car, but Sae figures you don’t really need to. It goes without saying that this thing between you is completely casual, just a way to satisfy your physical needs and work off some stress whenever you both need it.

Neither of you wants an actual relationship, but that doesn’t mean you’re opposed to sleeping together every now and then, especially when the sex is as good as it’s been. So you keep at it, meeting up whenever you have some free time and fucking until you’ve both had your fill, all without ever expecting anything more.

Sae doesn’t tell anyone about your arrangement. Neither do you. You both agree it’s easier that way, in the name of keeping things smooth and uncomplicated.

He’s not ashamed of what the two of you are doing —he knows you aren’t, either— but neither one of you wants the headache of having to explain it to the well-intentioned but ultimately chronic meddlers you call your friends. So you keep it to yourselves, treating each other the same way you normally would without any extra consideration or kindness.

You both get really good at it, too, maintaining your composure no matter how many stupid and suggestive comments Shidou and Oliver make about the mystery girl he’s always texting, or how often Aina bugs you to show her a picture of the guy she swears has got you dickmatized.

Sae’s sure they have their suspicions, but he knows that he isn’t among them. As far as everyone else is concerned, you and him are just friends, even if you do have a habit of getting a little handsy whenever you think no one is looking.

It helps that you’ve been shamelessly flirting with him since the day you met, so no one ever bats an eye when they see you brushing your hand against his chest or leaning in close to whisper in his ear. Everyone just assumes that it’s you being your normal, bold and affectionate self, and that Sae —moody, stoic, emotionless Sae— will brush it off and ignore you the way he always does.

They have no idea that as soon as you’re alone, the exact opposite happens. That he’s trailing his lips along your neck and sliding his hands up your skirt, while you lock your legs around his waist and pull him in closer, the way you’ve been doing for weeks now.

Sae’s honestly a little surprised no one’s figured it out yet. More than that, though, he’s shocked that he’s still hooking up with you at all.

It’s not like him to stick with someone for so long, especially without his manager breathing down his neck to keep it up for the publicity. He thought your arrangement would last a week, maybe two weeks, tops— but here you both are, still going nearly two months later, with no signs of stopping anytime soon.

He was so sure he’d be bored of it by now, but he isn’t. He can’t be, not with you. You’re too good at distracting him. You’re even better at making him trust you.

And the more time he spends with you, the more he realizes just how easy it is to be around you.

The thing about Sae is that he’s never really been the kind of person who has a lot of friends. He has his teammates and his manager, his parents and sometimes his brother, but he’s never had someone who wasn’t obligated to be around him. Never someone who didn’t expect anything of him.

You, though— you spend time with him on purpose, not because of anything he can give you. Even if this thing between you ends tomorrow, Sae knows it wouldn’t change anything.

You’d still be there, still without expecting anything, because that’s just who you are. Because for some odd reason, you actually like being around him, despite his attitude and his indifference, despite all the things his teammates and the media are always giving him shit for.

He thinks you’ve always liked being around him, even before you started sleeping together. He knows he doesn’t make it easy, but you’re patient with him despite that, giving him space when he needs it and pushing him when he doesn’t.

And he’ll never say it out loud, but the truth is, he likes being around you, too. Almost enough to make him forget that this thing you have is only temporary.

Almost.

The first time you stay the night happens a week later.

You’re both in his bed, all bare skin and tangled sheets as you come down from your respective highs and try to catch your breath. Outside his penthouse, the rain drones on, quieting the city below you into a nearly imperceptible hum.

It’s well past midnight, so late that it’s early, and sure, Sae might be an asshole— but he’s not cruel enough to make you drive home in the rain, especially when he knows how much you hate it.

“You can sleep here if you want,” he says, without thinking much of it, right as you sit up to start looking for your clothes.

Understandably, the offer catches you off guard. Even in the dark, Sae can see the way you turn back and blink owlishly at him, eyebrows raised, like it’s the last thing you expected him to say.

It’s kind of annoying, honestly, the way you’re looking at him right now. He knows he’s far from being the most considerate person in your life, but the way you’re gawking at him like he’s grown a second head feels a little dramatic.

Not that he can really blame you for being surprised. You’ve been hooking up almost daily for two months now, but not once during that time have either of you ever spent the night at the other’s place.

Something about it feels different. More intimate, somehow, like it’s crossing a line that’s supposed to be there, if only the two of you had bothered to draw it in the first place.

Sae realizes it at the same time you do and finds himself regretting making the offer at all. He’s accepted the fact that the two of you are friends —albeit begrudgingly— but the last thing he wants is for you to think he meant anything by it.

“Or don’t,” he adds quickly, careful to keep his tone as blank and detached as possible. “It’s up to you. I don’t really care either way.”

From the corner of his eye, he watches you spare a glance at the window. The rain is still going, pouring unforgivingly against the glass, and it only seems to be getting worse.

The rumble of thunder that follows shortly after is enough to convince you to accept his offer. You shrug, murmuring a quiet thanks before laying back down and making yourself comfortable next to him.

Predictably, he says nothing in response to your gratitude. He moves over to give you some space and lets you tuck yourself back under the blanket, shutting his eyes as he settles onto his back.

When he feels your gaze on him moments later, he frowns, cracking an eye open to look at you. Sure enough, you’re staring right at him, a knowing, borderline smug smile on your face that lets him know you’re going to be completely insufferable about this.

“Don’t,” he warns, before you can even get a word out.

You have the audacity to look offended. “Wha— I haven’t even said anything yet!”

“Didn’t have to. Your face is saying plenty.”

He throws an arm over his eyes and does his best to ignore you, hoping you’ll get bored enough with his inattention to let the whole thing go.

(You don’t, of course, but he supposes you wouldn’t be you if you did.)

In the end, it’s Sae who gives in first, uncovering his eyes against his better judgment and turning to face you with a scowl.

“What?”

“Nothing,” you’re quick to reply, even as that smug little smile of yours curls into a grin. “I’m just— I’m surprised you offered to let me stay, is all. It’s not what I was expecting.”

“Yeah, well, it was either that or wake up tomorrow to a ten-minute voice note complaining about how shitty your drive home was and how close you were to death.” He turns on his side, shifting so he can face you fully. “I figured if I was going to be annoyed anyway, I might as well get it out of the way now.”

That earns him a smack to the shoulder, along with a scowl meant to convey how unamused you are with his words. He can only hope you’re too busy rolling your eyes to catch the way the corners of his lips twitch upwards, barely suppressing a smile.

“You’re a dick. And for the record, if I did decide to grace you with one of my exciting and wonderfully detailed voice notes, it would’ve been five, maybe six minutes, max.”

He raises an eyebrow, clearly not believing you, and you sigh in defeat, relenting.

“Okay, fine, six and a half, but can you blame me? I hate driving in the rain. It’s scary and disorienting, and I always get paranoid that I’m gonna—”

“Spin out and end up on the side of the road,” Sae says, at the exact same time you do, making your eyes widen. “I know. I remember.”

And the crazy part is, he does. He remembers because he knows you, probably better than he knows anybody else, and it’s only now when he’s lying here with you, practically nose-to-nose in the dark, that he realizes just how much.

He’s not sure how or when it happened, but it did. And now, he knows you. He really, really knows you, enough to accept your good-natured teasing and playful smugness, enough to consider your comfort and offer you a place in his bed.

And honestly? He has no idea how the hell he’s supposed to feel about that, so he ignores it entirely, the same way he ignored how his stomach fluttered and his chest warmed when you showed up with a bag of groceries and made him dinner earlier, for no discernable reason other than the fact that you wanted to spend time with him.

His only consolation is that you seem to be as surprised by it as he is. He watches as you blink at him in the dark, wide-eyed and a little stunned, like you’re seeing him for the first time.

Then you smile at him, soft and sweet, and Sae feels something in his stomach shift all over again, something warm and unfamiliar he can’t name and honestly doesn’t think he wants to.

“And here I thought sleepovers were against our unofficial rules,” you tease, nudging his leg with your own. “You getting soft on me, Itoshi?”

“You wish,” he denies, scoffing for good measure. “This is a one-time thing. I’ll be back to my usual asshole self in the morning.”

“Bummer.” You nuzzle your face into the pillow beneath your head, stifling a yawn that betrays how tired you really are. “I kind of like you like this.”

“You like me naked and annoyed?”

“No, dummy. I meant sweet and concerned. It’s a surprisingly good look on you. A rare one, but a good one.” You close your eyes, lips curling into a playful smile. “Naked’s a pretty close second, though.”

In response, he flicks your forehead with his thumb and forefinger. You make a noise of protest but keep your eyes shut, swatting blindly at his hand, and for that, he finds himself grateful. He doesn’t think he’ll ever live it down if you catch the way his lips twitch into a smile.

“Just shut up and go to sleep, you little pervert.”

For once, you actually listen to him, bidding him a drowsy “goodnight” and knocking out almost immediately after. He falls asleep not long after you do, drifting off to the sound of your steady breathing and the patter of midnight rain.

Sae wakes before you the next morning, and the first thing he notices is how much closer you are to him now than when you fell asleep.

He’s not sure how it happened, but it seems that somehow over the course of the night, you’ve managed to curl yourself into his side. Now, your head is resting comfortably on his chest, your hand splayed against the muscles of his abdomen.

Sae wishes he could blame the new and compromising position solely on you, but sadly he can’t. At least not when he looks down and finds that his own traitorous arm has wrapped itself around your waist to keep you pressed against him, one of his legs tangled with yours.

It’s cuddly and intimate and most definitely against the unofficial rules of your arrangement, but still, he can’t find it in himself to wake you. He doesn’t shove you off, either, even though he knows he should, half because he thinks he’d rather die than talk to you about this and half because he doesn’t hate it nearly as much as he thought it would.

You’re pretty like this, Sae thinks distantly, completely unprovoked. You always are, but you’re softer when you’re asleep, more relaxed. It’s different from the version of you he’s used to, the one that’s loud and a little bit unruly, who talks a mile a minute and knocks back caffeine like it’s water because she always has a million different things to do.

He never imagined he’d get the chance to see you like this, all delicate and vulnerable. He never imagined he would want to, or that looking at you would make him feel this way, warm and fond and ridiculous. Human, too, in the way he so often likes to forget he is.

He spends longer than he should taking in the curve of your lips, the slope of your cheek. He untangles himself from you as carefully as he can manage and forces himself out of bed before he does something really stupid, like brush your hair out of your face or swipe his thumb against your cheek.

Sae takes a cold shower and runs through what’s left of his morning routine, willing all the strange thoughts he’s having about you to disappear.

It works for the most part, until you come padding into the kitchen and join him at the counter like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

You’re bare-faced and sleepy, dressed in one of his t-shirts and the sweatpants he let you borrow last night, glasses perched on the bridge of your nose and your hair pulled up and away from your face. He thinks fleetingly that it’s the cutest you’ve ever looked, which is not only ridiculous but also so unlike him that he has to resist the urge to vomit right then and there.

Somehow he manages, handing you a cup of steaming coffee as soon as you approach. You take it from him without hesitation, accepting the drink with a grateful smile and murmuring a quiet good morning.

If you’re surprised by the gesture, you don’t show it, too busy sipping gingerly at your coffee and letting it wake you up. Then you’re launching into your usual upbeat chatter, this time about your job and the co-worker who you swear you’re one “as per my last email” away from fist-fighting in the conference room.

It’s normal enough to distract him, allowing him to push away the memory of how you woke up this morning and all the sappy shit he’s been thinking about you as a result.

He almost forgets about it entirely, until later that night when he slips into bed and catches the scent of your shampoo on his pillow.

That’s when his mind begins to drift, completely against his will. He starts remembering all sorts of unwelcome things, like the weight of you in his arms, the curve of your lashes against your cheek, how tempted he was to brush your hair out of your face and pull you closer—

Sae huffs and flips the pillow over, somewhere between confused and annoyed, though whether it’s with you or himself, he isn’t sure.

He turns around and closes his eyes, forcing himself to sleep, but the thought of you lingers.

It’s Aina —and, by default, Oliver— who finds out first.

It happens on a Saturday morning, nearly four months into your arrangement with Sae. Aina shows up at your apartment completely unannounced, with a tray of coffee and a surprisingly dutiful Oliver in tow, carrying the rest of the bags. (Apparently, it’s an on-week for them.)

They mean to surprise you with breakfast, hoping to convince you over french toast and scrambled eggs to put a pause on your ‘no relationships allowed’ policy and agree to a double date with one of his teammates.

One could only imagine their surprise when they find you standing in your entryway with an entirely different teammate, one who apparently already has access to sleepover privileges. And with Sae in his clothes from the night before and you in your robe and absolutely nothing else, it isn’t hard for them to put two and two together and realize what you’ve been up to.

The silence that follows their discovery is the loudest Sae thinks he’s ever heard in his life. There’s an uncomfortably long moment where the four of you just stand there and stare at each other, not saying a single word.

Aina is the first to react, letting out an Oscar-worthy gasp loud enough to alert your neighbors. Her eyes go wide, jaw dropping as her gaze jumps back and forth between you and Sae, like her brain can’t fully make sense of what she’s seeing.

“Holy shit.”

Oliver, on the other hand, appears to be having the time of his life, leering at the two of you with the largest and most shit-eating grin you’ve ever seen on his face, like this is the best news he’s heard all week.

“No fucking way,” he says, two-toned eyes darting between you and Sae wickedly, before settling on you once more. “You bagged Itoshi?”

It’s a pretty spot-on assumption, Sae thinks, even if the way Oliver says it is stupid and irritating as hell. You are the one who approached him first, as well as the one who initiated things that first night you slept together. Not that it’s anyone else’s business, anyway, least of all nosy-ass Oliver’s.

You and Sae exchange glances, a silent conversation passing between you. It’s a testament to how familiar you’ve grown with one another over the past few months, where just one look is enough for the two of you to get an idea of what the other is thinking.

Having two of the loudest people you know find out you’ve been sleeping together isn’t ideal —neither Aina nor Oliver is exactly known for their subtlety— but it’s not the end of the world.

The two of you agreed to keep things quiet because you wanted your privacy, not because you’re ashamed of what you’ve been doing, so telling them won’t change much, as long as they don’t make it a big deal.

And besides, it’s not like you’re in any position to deny it, not when they’ve caught you red-handed.

Still, Aina and Oliver are more your friends than they are Sae’s, so he has no problem with you taking the lead on this one, which he attempts to communicate with a subtle nod of his head.

Thankfully, you seem to understand exactly what he means, clearing your throat and drawing all eyes back to you.

You pointedly ignore Oliver and his devilish smirk in favor of focusing on your best friend, who seems to be short-circuiting in light of the new information that’s been presented to her today. You take it all in stride, wielding that same easy confidence that Sae’s always admired in you, and nod at the tray she’s carrying.

“Is that iced coffee for me?”

Aina, for her part, still appears to be at a loss for words, but she makes an effort to answer you all the same, a confused but otherwise affirmative sound leaving her lips in response. You smile, reaching out to pluck the drink from its tray.

“Cool. Thanks.” You take a sip of your coffee before returning your attention to the midfielder beside you, offering him a warm smile and a parting wave. “Bye, Sae.”

It’s an easy out, of course, one that Sae is quick to accept, nodding at you and the stunned couple across from you before taking his leave.

The last thing he hears before your door shuts is the sound of Aina’s voice, baffled and utterly disbelieving as it rings out into your apartment.

“You’ve been fucking Itoshi Sae?!”

Her astonishment is a sentiment that carries over into the texts she sends you that same night, complete with various emojis and an assortment of reaction images she hopes will reflect her lingering shock. Oliver isn’t far behind her, though the texts he sends you are more teasing than anything else.

Still, they’re both strangely supportive about the whole thing. They even promise to keep what they’ve learned to themselves, though they still can’t quite believe it.

You show the texts to Sae the next time you’re at his place, letting him read them over your shoulder as the two of you lounge together in his bed, your back against his chest and his arm wound loosely around your waist.

The reaction images are sadly lost on him —Sae, as it turns out, really only cares about soccer, which means he has the social media literacy of a 70-year-old man— but he’s able to catch the gist.

You laugh about it together anyway, though for him it’s more of a little hum, followed by that tiny amused smirk you’re seeing more and more of every day.

“Did they seriously congratulate you for sleeping with me?”

“Yup. It’s a big deal, according to them. They’re both very proud of me.” You lock your phone and set it gently on his nightstand, twisting in his arms to face him with a teasing grin. “Apparently, I’m hooking up with the hottest midfielder in the league.”

He brushes off the comment at first, the way he seems to do with all of your obvious flirting, but he doesn’t stop you when you lift your leg and hike it over his hip.

And maybe it’s because he’s tired from practice, or maybe it’s because being around you relaxes him in a way he isn’t used to— but he ends up pulling you closer, palm smoothing over your skin and tracing a path up your leg.

“Well,” he mutters, hand squeezing appreciatively at your thigh, “it’s not like they’re wrong.”

“I dunno…” You let your voice trail off, fingertips skimming down his chest as you pretend to think about it. “I mean, ‘hottest midfielder’ is a really big title, and from what I’ve seen, your brother’s pretty hot, too.”

“My brother’s a striker, dumbass.”

“Even better. Think you can put in a good word for me?”

He shoots you a flat look, unimpressed by your joke, while you grin at him and crack up like you're the funniest person in the world. You’re still laughing when he reaches behind his head for a pillow and smacks you right in the face with it, squeaking out a “hey, wait, I’m kidding— I’m kidding!” between bursts of laughter.

And it’s ridiculous, Sae thinks, how easily the sound of your laugh softens him, how quickly it makes him forget about ever being annoyed. It shouldn’t, but it does, and right now he’s trying very hard not to think about what that might mean.

So he pushes it down and ignores it, the same way he’s forced himself to ignore how comfortable he’s gotten with you these past few months, hooking his hand behind your knee and rolling you both over so you’re laying on your back with him hovering above you.

He kisses you, then, deep and wanting in the way he knows you like, the one that leaves you breathless, half to distract himself and half because he wants to. You welcome him eagerly the way you always do, hooking your arms around his neck and tangling your fingers in his hair in an effort to bring him closer to you.

He breaks the kiss before it can go any further, drawing back just enough so that his lips are hovering above your own. You open your eyes, pupils blown out with desire, blinking at him expectantly as you wait for him to kiss you again.

When he doesn’t, you move for him, leaning up to press your lips back against his. He moves just out of reach at the last second, leaving you with a crease in your forehead and a pout on your lips that’s almost cute enough for him to give you what you want. Almost.

But Sae, as you’ve both learned, has a bit of a possessive streak. And while he’s already forgiven you for your earlier teasing, he hasn’t forgotten. And he intends, in true egoist fashion, to have the last word, even if it means having to stave off his own desires for a bit.

“You still interested in my brother?” he asks, and it’s pointed, goading. Probably the closest he’ll get to admitting how utterly disinterested he is in sharing you with anyone else.

“Wait, you have a brother?” You widen your eyes and pretend to be shocked, batting your lashes innocently before shaking your head. “Never heard of him.”

“Idiot,” he tells you, quiet, fond. Affectionate, too, if you’d listen closely enough. If he’d let you.

You merely laugh in response, bright and airy, before wrapping your arms around his neck and tugging him down to you. This time, he doesn’t pull away, leaning down to kiss you and feeling your smile against his lips.

It’s not long after that your kisses turn heated and wanting, his tongue and lips tracing a path down your neck and over your breasts. He takes one nipple into his mouth and rolls the other between his thumb and index finger, your nails digging into his back as you moan, pretty and breathless into his ear.

One of the perks of your arrangement lasting so long is that it’s made Sae somewhat of an expert at taking you apart. He knows exactly how to make you feel good, knows your body and all of its little tells, all the ways you like to be touched.

It doesn’t take much for him to have you desperate and keening, just his tongue at your clit and his fingers deep in your cunt, curling against the spot that makes your eyes roll back.

Soon you’re pulling at his hair, your arousal dripping down his wrist and chin as you whine at him to fuck you, all trembling thighs and breathy whimpers. He obliges, half because you’re practically begging for it and half because he wants you so much, it’s starting to make him dizzy.

It’s not always like this. Most nights Sae prefers taking his time with you. He gets off on seeing how needy you get, how much he can make you want him. You never beg for anything, never want for anything from anyone else until you’re here, desperate and panting beneath him.

He likes seeing you that way. He likes being the one you seek out to give it to you even more.

Tonight, though, it’s different. He’s not sure what triggered it, but suddenly he can’t stop touching you, can’t stop thinking about you and how much he wants you. He’s always attentive, but right now he feels greedy, impatient. Wild in a way he isn’t used to. He kisses you, and it’s hungry, deliberate, like he has something to prove.

He helps you to your knees and fucks you with his hands at your hips and his chest at your back, hard and deep the way he knows you like. He makes you cum with your cheek pressed into the mattress and your hands digging into the sheets, and then he flips you over and pushes your knees to your chest, sliding back into you.

He makes you cum like that, too, with his name on your lips and your hands laced with his own, pinned above your head— once, twice more until he’s had his fill and begins chasing his own release, his face pressed against your neck as he finally lets go and falls apart inside of you.

You shower together afterwards, all slow kisses and languid touches as you stand beneath the warmth of his stupidly expensive shower head. It’s softer than it should be, too soft to be considered casual.

Sae knows it, too, just like he knows he should quit while he’s ahead and pull away from you before it’s too late, but he can’t, not when the scrape of your nails against his scalp as you lave shampoo through his hair feels as good as it does.

You exit the shower looking clean and refreshed, hair damp and skin glowing as you towel yourself off. You smell just like him, the scent of his body wash clinging to your skin.

It does something stupid to his brain, knowing that. Makes his ears red and his heart race in a way he immediately tries to bury. For some reason, this time it’s harder to do.

You get dressed in his bedroom and pack your bag. You tell him you have a big meeting at work tomorrow, so you can’t spend the night. You stay for dinner anyway, letting him treat you to takeout from your favorite restaurant.

The two of you sit on his couch and enjoy your meal together. As usual, you’re the one who provides most of the conversation, Sae preferring to nod along and listen, interjecting every now and then with a surprisingly thoughtful question or a sly comment that has you elbowing him in the side.

With takeout boxes littering his coffee table and a movie you’ve both already seen playing idly in the background, his apartment feels more lived in now than it ever has before, the way it always does whenever you come over. Sae does his very best to ignore how normal it all seems, how easily your knee presses against his as you sit beside him on the couch.

When it’s time for you to leave, he walks you to the door. You thank him again for dinner and smile when he brushes you off, reminding you to text him when you get home.

Then you kiss him goodbye and he lets you, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Like it isn’t a big deal, even though you both know it is.

And though he knows he shouldn’t, though he knows he’s better off pushing it down and ignoring it, the way he’s gotten so good at lately— he thinks about it for the rest of the night.

Things get a little blurrier after that.

It starts slowly, at first. An extra toothbrush by his sink, your hair ties on his nightstand. Little pieces of you scattered across his apartment that reveal just how intertwined your lives have become, even if neither of you wants to admit it.

He gets into the habit of picking you up from work. Starts showing up at your door with a bottle of wine and your favorite comfort snacks whenever he knows you’ve had a shitty week. There’s a shelf in his bathroom set aside just for you, stocked with moisturizer, cleanser, and face masks he lets you slather on his skin every now and then, on nights when he’s feeling particularly indulgent.

Your place is just as bad, if not worse. There’s protein powder in your pantry now, his hoodies hung up comfortably in your closet.

You drive him to practice when you have some free time and send him voice notes when you don’t, ones he makes a fuss about but always listens to. And whenever he has a game, you’re the first person who Facetimes him in the morning, wishing him luck and letting him know how excited you are to watch him win.

These days, you’re together more often than you’re apart. Sometimes he invites you over, and you don’t even have sex at all— you just hang out in his apartment and tell him about your day, resting your feet in his lap while his hands roam up and down your calves, and it feels like enough. Having you there feels like enough.

It gets to the point that whenever Shidou or Oliver want to reach him, they call you instead, knowing that Sae will be with you, the way he always seems to be now. It’s so humbling that for a single, horrifying moment, he considers cutting you off completely.

But Sae knows, even before the thought forms in his mind, that he won’t be able to go through with it. You’re too important to him now, too familiar. You’re his best friend, and as confusing and annoying as his thoughts about you have become, he can’t stay away from you.

He doesn’t even realize how bad he’s got it until another two months later, on the night of your birthday, when a conversation with Oliver forces him to confront the feelings he’s usually a lot better at ignoring.

The evening itself starts off normally enough. Sae spends most of it on the field with his team, in preparation for a rivalry game that’s less than a week away. The other players leave as soon as their coach dismisses them, eager to hit the showers and get some rest, but Sae stays behind for some extra practice.

He’s still at it by the time Oliver returns from the locker room. The centerback looks surprised to see that Sae’s still there, but he doesn’t hesitate to approach, joining his teammate out on the pitch.

“Figures you’d be the last one on the field,” Oliver says, greeting him with his signature sleazy smile. “You trying to make the rest of us look bad, Itoshi?”

Sae barely spares him a glance, choosing instead to focus on the row of soccer balls lined up at his feet. “I’ve never had to try to do that.”

Anyone else would be insulted, but Oliver just laughs, too used to Sae’s attitude to take it personally. “Why’re you still out here, anyway? It’s your girl’s birthday tonight. Shouldn’t you be back at your place getting ready?”

You’re not his girl, obviously, but correcting Oliver would be more trouble than it’s worth, so Sae doesn’t bother. “Why would I do that?”

“Oh, come on, man. No one’s that much of an asshole, not even you. Aren’t you coming to her party?”

Sae knows all about your party, of course. You invited him a while ago, though you made it clear it was a no pressure invitation. You knew he had that game coming up and that parties —especially the over the top and extravagant kind planned by Aina— aren’t really his thing, so you’d understand if he didn’t attend.

You’ve always been like that. Always more considerate than he or anyone else deserves. He picked up a present for you anyway, a simple necklace with a diamond sun pendant that made him think of you.

He planned to give it to you next week. Figured it would more than make up for his absence tonight, especially when he knows you’ll be busy with your friends. He’ll be shocked if you even notice he isn’t there, which is why he doesn’t feel the least bit guilty about sitting this one out.

“I’m not going,” Sae states plainly, kicking the ball at his feet and watching it land in the goal. “She said I didn’t have to.”

“Well yeah, that sounds like her, but don’t you want to? It’d be a fun way to surprise her,” Oliver points out, as if Sae really needs the reminder. “Hell, even I’m going, and she only tolerates me.”

“She knows I’m busy.” Another kick, another goal. Sae lifts the bottom of his shirt and wipes at the sweat on his face, unmoved. “She’ll be fine.”

“Damn.” Oliver whistles and crosses his arms over his chest, somewhere between incredulous and impressed. “And here I thought the two of you were finally getting serious. Shidou’ll be thrilled you’re back on the market. Adrian, too— though for different reasons.”

That catches Sae’s attention. He pauses before his next kick and shifts his gaze to where Oliver stands, narrowing his eyes.

He isn’t sure what his teammate is suggesting here, but he already doesn’t like it.

“Am I supposed to care about who that is?”

“You tell me. See, from what I hear, he’s your girl’s— my bad, I mean your not-girl’s ex. Apparently they ended on pretty good terms. Aina told me he’ll be there tonight, along with the rest of their friends.”

Oliver waits for a moment, letting his words sink in, before he grins knowingly, mismatched eyes smug and goading.

“Guess it’s a good thing you don’t care, huh?”

Sae feels himself frown, eyes narrowing into a glare as something heavy and bitter settles over his chest. There’s a sinking feeling in his gut, too, one that makes his stomach twist with discomfort.

You’ve never mentioned Adrian before. You’ve never mentioned any of your exes before, at least not to Sae, and why would you?

Contrary to popular belief, Sae’s not your boyfriend. He’s not even someone you’re officially dating. He’s just a friend you fuck regularly and hang out with after, even if it has been going on for way too long to be considered casual.

The point is, who you choose to spend your time with, romantically or otherwise, is none of his business, because you never agreed to be exclusive. And it’s not like he cares if you’re seeing other people, anyway, because he doesn’t. He doesn’t care.

He’s just a little annoyed by it, is all. Just a little irritated by the fact that Oliver would waste his time by bringing it up now, even though he knows Sae has more important things on his mind, like the upcoming game everyone else seems to be forgetting about.

That’s what Sae tells himself, anyway. What he reminds himself of even after Oliver says goodbye and heads off to get ready, leaving him alone on the pitch with nothing but his thoughts.

He repeats it inside of his head, over and over again, telling himself that it doesn’t matter, that he doesn’t care— even as the next ball he kicks misses, ricocheting off the goalpost.

So what if you’re seeing the ex you never mentioned tonight? And so what if the two of you ended on good enough terms for you to feel comfortable inviting him to your party? It’s your birthday, and you’re allowed to spend it with whoever you want.

Sae knows that, just like he knows you don’t owe him anything, least of all an explanation. And he doesn’t care— he doesn’t. He shouldn’t, because if he did, well— then that would mean he cares about you, maybe even has actual feelings for you, and that just wouldn’t make any sense, would it?

Because Sae doesn’t do this kind of thing. He doesn’t do feelings, or relationships, or anything else that puts him at risk of being vulnerable. He isn’t made for it. He never has been.

But then he thinks of you. Of your smile and your enthusiasm, of your quick comebacks and your laugh that turns into a snort whenever you think something is especially funny.

He thinks about the first time you spent the night at his place. He remembers waking up with you after and how easy it felt to hold you, how right.

You are thoughtful in a way that Sae is not, light-hearted and optimistic in a way he knows he’ll never be. You’re smart, too, smarter than anyone else he knows and more sensitive than you like to admit.

You’re stubborn to a fault, you hate admitting when you’re wrong, and you wouldn’t know how to relax even if someone paid you— but Sae can’t think of anything he’d like to do more than spend his time trying to keep up with you.

It hits him, then. The truth he’s spent the past few months trying to deny. All those sappy thoughts he’s had about you, the comfort and ease that settle over him whenever he’s around you— it’s not just because he likes spending time with you, or because he considers you a close friend.

It’s because he has feelings for you. Real, genuine feelings that he can’t ignore, at least not anymore.

It’s why hearing about your ex distracts him enough to make him miss the goal. Why the thought of you with someone else makes him feel sick to his stomach. And as much as Sae hates being vulnerable and honest about his feelings, he thinks he hates the idea of you cozying up to your ex even more.

He doesn’t know what he’s going to do about it yet, or what he’s going to say to you— but what he does know is that he can’t do it here, so he picks up his bag and leaves the field.

An hour later, he’s in his car and driving up to the lounge where Aina’s hosting your party, freshly showered and handing his keys over to the valet. The necklace he picked out for you rests inside the pocket of his jacket, tucked securely against his side.

It’ll pair nicely with his confession, he thinks, if he can find the words. If his logic will allow it.

Inside the lounge, it doesn’t take him long to find you. You’re exactly where he thought you’d be, smack dab in the middle of the dance floor, swaying your hips and singing your heart out with Aina and the rest of your friends at your side.

You look incredible, all smooth skin and glittery eyes, dressed in something soft and lacey he can’t wait to help you out of. You’ve always been beautiful, but here beneath the warm lights with your hair framing your face and your lips curled into that alluring smile, you’re easily the most stunning thing he’s ever seen.

Sae spends longer than he probably should just looking at you, watching you laugh and dance out on the floor, spurred on by the music and the enthusiastic cheers of your friends. He finds himself smiling before he can really help it, tender and fond in the way only you ever seem to make him.

You do a bit of a double take when you spot him, craning your neck past Aina’s head to get a better view. He sends you a short nod as a form of greeting, and you return it with an excited wave of your own, excusing yourself from your friends to join him where he stands at the edge of the crowd.

You smile as you approach, a little breathless from all the dancing, but still so beautiful. You look happy that he’s here, but you’re surprised, too, eyes wide, like he’s the last person you expected to see.

“Sae? What are you doing here?”

It’s a fair question, considering the fact that the last time you spoke, he told you he couldn’t make it, but he raises an eyebrow anyway, like he can’t believe you’d ask. “You invited me, remember?”

“Well, yeah, I did, but I didn’t think you’d actually show up,” you say honestly, laughing a little. “I thought you were busy.”

“I was. Now I’m not.” When your eyes widen even more, your surprise giving way to disbelief, Sae’s eyebrows furrow. “Is it really that big of a deal?”

“That you’re choosing to spend your free time surrounded by everyone I know getting drunk off their asses? Kind of, yeah.” You reach out and smooth your hands over his chest, tugging at the lapels of his jacket to tease him. “I didn’t realize you cared so much.”

And Sae, too sure of his feelings to deny it, but too stubborn to agree, merely sighs, though he does nothing to move your hands away. “Look, if you want me to leave—”

“And rob me and the rest of my friends of the opportunity to ogle you in a button-down? On my birthday?” You put a hand over your heart and shake your head, looking scandalized. “That’s so disrespectful, not to mention selfish. I’m honestly offended that you even suggested it.”

He rolls his eyes, muttering something about you being the most dramatic person in the world, and you start to laugh, lips curling into that lovely little smile that lately he can’t stop thinking about.

Then you take his hand, sliding your fingers through his in a way that feels a lot more significant now that he knows he has feelings for you, and Sae feels something in his chest shift all over again, his pulse quickening beneath his skin.

“Come on,” you tell him, tugging on his hand to guide him forward, completely unaware of the effect you have on him. “I’ll get you a drink.”

You lead him to the bar and prop yourself up on one of the stools. Sae takes a seat beside you and watches as you order two cocktails— something simple for him and something sweet for yourself. The bartender makes quick work of your drinks, setting them down in front of you in record time and leaving you and Sae to chat.

“How was practice?”

“Same as always. How’s your party?”

“It’s been a lot of fun, actually. Aina really outdid herself. I’m thankful, even if it is forcing me to accept the sad reality that I’m basically a grandma now.” You let out a wistful sigh, stirring your drink with your straw. “When I was in college, I used to knock back tequila like it was water. Now it just kind of burns.”

That has him letting out an actual laugh, quiet but genuine, though he attempts to cover it up by reaching for his drink. You notice anyway and beam at the sound, unreasonably pleased with yourself, the way you always are whenever you manage to make him laugh.

He thinks of telling you that you’re the only one who can, the only person he’s ever felt comfortable enough around to do so. But the bar is rowdy and the music’s too loud, so he keeps it to himself, taking a sip of his drink and watching you do the same.

You chat for a while longer, catching each other up on all that you’ve missed in the week since you last saw one another. He tells you about the trip he took to the beach and the clothing sponsorship his manager won’t shut up about, and you tell him about the new pastry shop you tried and the comically large fruit bouquet your parents had delivered to your doorstep this morning.

And it’s easy, Sae thinks, talking to you like this. He’s never been a fan of parties, but sitting here with you, listening to your voice and hearing you laugh, it isn’t so bad.

He spent most of the drive here thinking of you and coming to terms with his feelings for you. These past few months have been filled with nothing but denial on his part, with Sae doing everything in his power to convince himself that he only saw you as the friend he was casually hooking up with, despite every one of his thoughts and actions proving otherwise.

But on the drive here, when he finally sat down to think about it, he found that what he feels for you was strangely easy for him to accept, despite the initial shock of it all.

Sae’s never been one for romance or relationships. He’s never imagined that’d be something he’d want, but looking at you now and wanting you the way he does, he knows it’s true. If he has to have feelings for anyone, he figures it might as well be you.

You, with all your sarcasm and your compassion and that soft little smile he doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of.

He’s glad that it’s you.

If Sae were softer, more sensitive like Rin, he’d tell you. If he were better with words, if he knew what to say or where to start, he’d grab your hand and take you somewhere quiet and romantic, and then he’d tell you the truth. He’d tell you everything, all about the way you make him feel and all the parts of himself you make him want to give you.

But Sae isn’t like that. And while normally he wouldn’t hesitate to go after what he wants, he’s not going to risk ruining your birthday or the friendship you’ve built by telling you about the feelings he’s only now realizing he has, especially when he has no idea how to put them into words.

So he doesn’t.

He just listens to the sound of your voice and keeps his feelings to himself, pretending that absolutely nothing has changed even when it’s obvious that everything has.

Eventually, Aina and the rest of your girlfriends show up at the bar to steal you away. They’re shouting something about birthday pictures and ass-shaking that Sae only half-understands, but he doesn’t fight them on it. He knows how excited you are to spend tonight celebrating and letting loose with your friends, so he lets them whisk you away, nodding when you promise to catch up with him later.

Shidou and Oliver show up to harass him the second you and your friends are gone. They try to bully him into taking shots with them, but when that doesn’t work, they settle for setting him up with another drink instead. Then they each sling an arm around his shoulders and herd him over to the couches, where a handful of their other teammates are waiting.

The next time Sae sees you, you're back on the dance floor with your friends. He recognizes most of them, like Aina and Eri, Kenta and Misaki. The only stranger is the man standing behind you, the one Sae immediately decides he doesn’t like.

That’s when Sae notices how close this guy is to you and how low his hands are on your waist. All of a sudden, ignoring his feelings for you becomes a lot harder to do, especially now, when he’s almost positive that you’re dancing with your ex.

Sae doesn’t actually know that the man you’re dancing with is Adrian, of course. He’s too far away to hear what’s being said or to catch any names, but with how comfortable this guy seems to be with touching you, it isn’t hard to guess. He’s lean and broad-shouldered, too, with bright green eyes and silky dark hair, and well— you did say you have a type.

And when you glance over your shoulder to look at him, instead of being disgusted and telling him to get the fuck away from you, the way Sae is hoping you will, you smile. You actually fucking smile, accepting the bastard’s outstretched hand and letting him spin you around, like it’s normal, like you’re used to it. Like it’s something the two of you have done a million times before.

Quite frankly, it makes Sae want to fucking vomit.

It bothers him more than he cares to admit, watching you dance with Adrian and seeing how happy you look, how easily you welcome your ex-boyfriend’s touch. You aren’t even doing anything particularly scandalous, just laughing and letting him twirl you around, but seeing it happen still makes Sae’s stomach churn and his chest ache in a way he knows can’t be normal.

When the song changes, Aina ushers you and the rest of your group back towards the bar, ending your little stint on the dance floor. Sae finds himself grateful for the interruption, until he realizes that all it’s done is provide Adrian with the opportunity to get even closer to you, nestling himself between you and Eri.

Aina stands on your other side and waves down the bartender, but all Sae can focus on is the arm Adrian has wrapped around your shoulders, the way he leans in close and whispers in your ear.

Immediately, Sae decides he can’t watch anymore, not unless he actually wants to throw up. So instead of sticking around to see what happens next, he stands up and walks away, before the tension in his chest makes him do something stupid.

Shidou and Oliver call after him in confusion, but Sae ignores them, disappearing into the crowd without looking back.

There’s an outdoor section attached to the lounge, guarded by a set of clunky metal doors he didn’t notice until now. He pushes past them and is pleased to find the space almost entirely empty, save for the trio of smokers who are already on their way back inside, their cigarettes quickly blackening in the ashtray left on one of the tables outside.

Sae walks past them as they exit, ignoring the open chairs and couches in favor of standing closer to the balcony. He braces himself against the railing, nursing a drink he doesn’t even really want in his hand and a heaviness he isn’t used to in his heart.

It’s colder out here than it is inside. Quieter, too, though Sae hardly minds it. He welcomes the chill and the silence it brings, even if it does little to sort out his thoughts. All he knows for sure is that right now, he wants to be alone, and being out here can give him that, so he stays.

He enjoys about ten minutes of blissful silence before he hears the doors push open again. He braces himself with a deep sigh and looks over his shoulder, ready to tell Oliver to go back inside and leave him alone, but he stops himself when he sees that it’s you.

And it’s awful, Sae thinks, how easily the sight of you softens him, how happy he is to see you, even now. A few seconds ago, he was convinced he didn’t want to see anyone at all, but looking at you now, he can’t imagine ever asking you to leave.

The thought’s a little easier for him to stomach now that he’s accepted his feelings for you, but that doesn’t make it any less disorienting.

“There you are,” you say, greeting him with a warm smile and looking just as happy to see him now as you were when he first arrived. “I was wondering where you’d gone off to. I tried asking Oliver, but he wasn’t sure, either.”

Sae’s eyebrows raise at your words, his previous agitation forgotten. “You went looking for me?”

“Of course.” You join him at the railing, heels clacking against the pavement as you walk. You’re standing close enough now that your arm touches his, but he doesn’t pull away, and neither do you. “I can’t exactly fulfill my promise of ogling you if you’re all the way out here, now, can I?”

“I’m sure you would’ve figured something out,” he says, bumping his shoulder with yours, even as the corners of his lips twitch in amusement. “You’re persistent that way.”

“Can you blame me? You know what the sight of you with your shirt buttons undone does to the general public, myself included.”

“Weirdly enough, you’re not the first person to tell me that tonight.”

“Let me guess— Shidou?”

“He’s the only other person as dedicated to flirting with me as you are.”

You laugh, flipping your hair over your shoulder with a shrug. “What can I say? We have excellent taste.”

“Is that what you’re calling it?” He raises an eyebrow at you and hums, amused. “And here I thought it was just the two of you being shameless as always.”

“Only for you,” you say, voice low and playful, punctuating your words with a ridiculous wink that he shouldn’t find nearly half as endearing as he does. “Well, you and Pedro Pascal, but he didn’t show up for my birthday the way you did, so— mostly you.”

“I’m flattered,” he drawls sarcastically, making you laugh.

A brief silence follows, though it’s far from uncomfortable. It never is, not when it’s just you and Sae. You know he isn’t exactly the most talkative person, but you’ve never seemed to have a problem with that, never tried to make him into something he’s not. It’s one of the many things he likes about you.

You blink when you catch him staring at you, but you don’t hesitate to smile at him anyway. “What?”

“Nothing.” He’s quick to change the subject, clearing his throat and tearing his gaze away from your own. That’s when he notices the way you’re shivering, your arms going up to wrap around yourself as a breeze passes and goosebumps rise on your skin. “You’re cold.”

“Only a little,” you admit, expression bashful as you rub your arm, “but it’s fine. I’ll adjust. Honestly, with how hot it was inside, I probably need the—”

He doesn’t wait for you to finish your sentence, shrugging his jacket off his shoulders and offering it for you to take. “Here.”

“Oh, no, that’s okay. Really, you don’t have to—”

Your protests quickly go nowhere, Sae choosing to ignore you and all but shoving his jacket into your hands. You accept it from him somewhat unsurely, though that hesitance quickly disappears the moment you feel how warm his jacket feels around you.

You slide your arms through the sleeves and let the jacket rest comfortably around your shoulders, looking up to face him with a grateful smile. “Thanks.”

He nods in acknowledgement of your gratitude but says nothing else, too busy taking in the sight of you in his jacket and thinking about how much better it’d be if you were actually his.

Not for the first time, he thinks of confessing his feelings. He settles for bringing up the gift he got you instead, hoping it’ll be enough to make you understand.

“There’s something in it for you,” he says quickly, before he can talk himself out of it. “Inside the pocket.”

You blink, taken aback. “Really?”

When he nods, you reach inside his jacket. It takes you a moment or two of rummaging around, but eventually you find what you’re looking for, pulling out the dark velvet box that holds the necklace he got you for your birthday and cradling it gently inside your palm.

You meet his gaze briefly, eyes soft and searching, before opening the box with your other hand. You let out a tiny gasp when you see what’s inside, your eyes widening at the sun pendant that rests before you. It quite literally takes your breath away, and Sae knows, even before you meet his eyes again, that he’s done something right.

“Oh, my god. Sae, this is so— I mean, I don’t even know what to—” He doesn’t think he’s ever seen you this way before, so at a loss for words. Usually you always have something to say, but right now you can hardly form a sentence, eyes wide as you all but gape at him. “Are you sure?”

“Happy birthday,” Sae says, as softly and sincerely as he can manage. “I hope you like it.”

“Are you kidding? How could I not?”

You laugh a little, voice disbelieving as you trace your fingertips over the necklace, gentle and admiring. Sae can’t help but smile to himself as he watches you, pleased by how touched you seem to be by the gift.

“It’s beautiful. Seriously, Sae, it’s gorgeous and wonderful— and way too fucking expensive.” You snap the box closed, shaking your head firmly. “I can’t accept this.”

Your words make him frown, brows furrowing slightly as you hold the box out to him. He had a feeling you’d be difficult about this, knowing how notoriously stubborn you are, but he thought you’d at least put the necklace on before trying to give it back to him.

“Why not?”

“What do you mean, why not?” You stare at him, bewildered, an almost comically serious look on your face as you lift the box in your hands and shake it around. “Sae, there are actual diamonds on this necklace.”

He resists the urge to laugh at your expression, shrugging his shoulders and raising an eyebrow. “So?”

“So?” you repeat, giving him an incredulous look. “That means it’s probably worth more than my freakin’ apartment! I can’t take this from you.”

“You’re not taking anything. I’m giving it to you,” Sae corrects, completely unbothered, even as your eye starts to twitch in a way that makes it clear you think he’s lost his mind. “You know, like that gift thing people do on birthdays?”

He tries to make a joke, but you hardly acknowledge it, evidently too occupied with having an internal crisis about the amount of money he spent to appreciate his rare attempt at humor. There’s a frown on your lips and a crease in your brow that reassure him it’s going to take a lot more than that to convince you to accept the gift, but thankfully, Sae has already prepared for that.

“I’m not bringing it back to the store,” he says, meeting your eyes so you can see exactly how serious he is. “I already got rid of the receipt, and I’m not giving it to anyone else, so either you take it, or it goes in the trash.”

You open your mouth to argue, but the look on his face must make you reconsider, because you’re closing it before you can say anything else. Realizing that regardless of your protests, he won’t be changing his mind, you sigh, relenting.

“Fine. I’ll take it.” You’re trying your best to pout, making a show of your begrudging acceptance, but the sparkle in your eye as you gaze down at the box in your hand betrays just how thrilled you really are to be keeping the gift. “But I would like the record to show that I think you’re a psychopath. A filthy rich, full-blown psychopath.”

“You know, most people would just say thank you.”

Sae expects you to make a quip back, maybe even return his snark with an eye roll of your own, but you surprise him by taking his hand in yours, using the other to cradle the box to your chest.

“Thank you, Sae.” You squeeze his hand and smile, gratitude and sincerity hanging off every word. “I love it.”

You give his hand another gentle squeeze before releasing it and turning your attention back to the box you’re holding, a distraction Sae finds himself grateful for. He’s not sure what kind of expression he’s making right now, but if the way his pulse is racing is any indication, he doubts it’s anything normal.

He watches as you open the box and remove the necklace from inside. Once it’s been freed, you put the empty box back in his pocket and let the necklace dangle from your fingertips, turning to offer it to him again.

“Will you help me put it on?”

For a moment, all Sae can do is nod. His pulse is still racing, drumming beneath his skin with the kind of adrenaline he thought he’d only ever get while playing soccer. He ignores it as best as he can, clearing his throat and taking the necklace from you.

“Turn around.”

You do as he asks, turning so your back is facing him and holding up your hair so it’s out of the way. He brings the necklace to your throat, fingers brushing against your neck in a way that makes you shudder slightly, goosebumps rising on your skin as you lean instinctively into his touch.

The sight is tempting enough to make him want to forget the necklace entirely and bring his lips to your throat, grazing the spot below your ear he knows drives you crazy, but somehow he resists the urge, clasping the necklace shut without any further incident.

“Well?” You let go of your hair and turn back around to face him, a smile on your face as you put your hands on your hips and strike a pose. “How’s it look?”

What Sae wants to say is that you look stunning. That you always do, and that it has nothing to do with the necklace at your throat or the clothes you wear and everything to do with the way you carry yourself, dramatic nonsense and all.

What comes out of his mouth instead isn’t nearly as poetic. “It looks better on you than it would have in the garbage can.”

It’s probably one of the least romantic things you’ve ever heard, but luckily for him, you’re too used to his personality to be offended by it. All you do is laugh, brushing it off without a second thought.

“You know,” you say, in the shittiest imitation of his voice you can manage, throwing his words back at him the way he’s sure you planned to from the beginning, “most people would just say it looks good on me.”

Sae huffs out a laugh, though he still makes a point to roll his eyes at your words. He watches you grin and laugh along with him, taking in the curve of your lips and the flutter of your lashes, and finds himself speaking again, before he can change his mind.

“It does.” It’s hard to say who the confession surprises more— you or himself. He keeps going anyway, even as your laughter fades and your eyes widen. “You look—” It takes him a second to gather himself, the words awkward and stiff coming from his mouth, but just as sincere. “—beautiful. You are beautiful.”

Understandably, the compliment catches you off guard. Sae’s called you many things before —stubborn, ridiculous, dramatic, even shameless— but he’s never called you beautiful. He’s never called anything beautiful, at least not on purpose. You probably didn’t even think it was something he could do.

Maybe that’s why you’re looking at him so strangely now, his words stunning you into silence. He can only hope you know he meant them. Then he notices the shy little smile on your face and the way you wrap his jacket a little tighter around yourself and realizes you already do.

“Thank you.”

Another silence falls between you, different from before. This one is a little more intense, the air between you thick with words left unsaid, but it’s still not uncomfortable, at least not yet. Sae knows it’s true, because when he leans back against the railing, you follow, settling into the space beside him and letting your arm press against his without a hint of regret or awkwardness.

“I’m glad you’re here, Sae.” You don’t look at him when you say it, eyes on the city skyline below you, all the twinkling, faraway lights blanketed by the cover of darkness. Your voice is quieter than he’s used to, but still undoubtedly sincere. “And not because of the gift, or because of the compliment, even though those were nice, too— but because of you.”

That catches him off guard. “Because of me?”

“Yeah, because of you.” You turn to look at him then, all easy smiles and undeniable fondness. “Just you. I mean, obviously you didn’t have to be here, and I know you probably haven’t been enjoying yourself too much, but still, it’s nice.”

“What makes you think I’m not enjoying myself?”

“You’re kidding, right? This whole thing is loud music and a big crowd, neither of which you’re fond of. Besides, you told me you hated parties.”

“I don’t hate you.” The words fall from his lips before he can stop them, soft and tender and way too fucking honest. Your eyes widen, even more now than they did when he called you beautiful, and immediately he clears his throat, backtracking. “...I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Oh, so you do hate me, then?”

“What? No, that’s not what I—” He cuts himself off when he catches the smile you try and fail to hide behind your hand, any concern he had about hurting your feelings vanishing as he shoots you a scowl. “Oh, shut up.”

You give up on masking your amusement and begin laughing outright. Normally, the sound would annoy him, especially when done at his expense, but because it’s you, all it does is make him grow more fond, the corners of his lips curling into a smile of his own before he can stop them.

“If it makes you feel any better,” you say, your side pressing against his as you lean in close, whispering like you’re sharing a secret, “I don’t hate you, too.”

It’s nothing like an actual confession, nor can it be considered a real sign that you’ll return his feelings, but Sae hears you say it, watches the way you watch him, and suddenly he knows that if there were ever a time for him to tell you the truth, then this would be it.

But words have never come easily to Sae, so instead of saying it, instead of telling you, he decides to show you.

He brings his hand to your face, cupping your cheek in his palm with a kind of gentleness he didn’t even think himself capable of until now. He swipes his thumb along your bottom lip, his gaze never leaving yours, while you look on, startled by his sudden softness.

He knows as soon as he does it that the way he’s holding you now is something different, something real. He knows you’ll feel it, too, knows it’ll catch you off guard, even if it’s far from the first time he’s touched you. It’s why he isn’t the least bit surprised when your eyes widen, your voice a quiet, stunned murmur as you open your mouth to speak.

“Sae, what are you…”

He doesn’t let you finish that thought, closing what little distance is left between you to press his lips against yours. It’s a softer kiss than he usually goes for, every bit as tender and delicate as the way his hand cradles your cheek and filled with all the sincerity he can manage, all the longing he didn’t even realize he’d been feeling until now.

You’re breathless when he pulls away, lips parted and eyes fluttering back open to meet his, dazed, like you’re seeing him for the first time.

“What was that for?”

For a moment, Sae has no idea how to respond. You’ve always been the most observant person in the room —it’s how you found out about the ankle he sprained last month, having picked up on the strain in his voice the moment he answered your call— so the fact that you still haven’t realized he’s trying to confess his feelings for you is unexpected, to say the least.

Still, he doesn’t let it deter him, letting the hand he uses to cradle your face speak for him, thumb brushing across your cheek in a way he hopes makes things a little clearer.

“What do you think?”

You don’t answer right away, your eyes locked with his own, stunned and searching. You reach up a hand and place it over the one he has on your face, but your touch is hesitant, unsure— much like your voice is when you speak again.

“Honestly, I’m not really sure what I’m supposed to be thinking right now.”

Sae is trying very hard to be sensitive for you, but he can’t stop himself from frowning at your words. He knew telling you about his feelings —or, in this case, showing you— wasn’t going to be easy, but he didn’t think it’d be this hard, either. And though he knows it’s probably unfair of him to think kissing you like this will be enough, your reaction isn’t exactly making him feel any better about it.

“It’s not like it’s the first time I’ve kissed you.”

“Well, yeah, I know that, but you’ve never—” You cut yourself off, brows furrowing as you fix him with a serious look. “You’ve never kissed me like that.”

“Maybe I just didn’t think you could handle it.”

It’s the wrong thing to say, Sae knows, not to mention completely at odds with what he’s actually feeling, but it’s what comes out of his mouth, anyway. You frown as soon as he says it, eyes narrowing as you shake your head.

“You’re such a dick, Sae.”

“I know.” He moves his hand and brushes a piece of hair away from your face. You let him, your gaze flickering down to his lips then back up again to meet his eyes. “Do you want me to stop?”

And though he knows as well as you do that you should say yes, though you have every right to push him away and demand he explain himself properly, all you do is lean in closer, your lips hovering against his as you answer, voice low and deliberate and just a little breathless, “...No.”

He closes the distance at the same time you do, your lips meeting in another kiss that’s as longing and passionate as the first. It’s just as soft, too, soft in the way you still can’t quite make sense of, but that hardly seems to matter to you now as you tilt your head and let yourself become lost in it, one of your hands going up to tangle in the hair at the nape of his neck.

Then you’re pressing your body against his, your lips moving to nip at his jaw, and it’s all Sae can do to wrap his arms around your waist and pull you closer, his mouth finding yours once more.

There’s so much more the two of you need to talk about, so much he still has tell you so that you can finally understand the extent of his feelings, but right now, all he can focus on is the feel of your lips against his own and the weight of you in his arms, steady and solid, like it’s where you were meant to be all along.

He lifts a hand to cradle your jaw, and your lips part, tongue sliding against his as he walks the two of you backwards. Your back hits the railing, and you make a needy little sound in the back of your throat that just makes him kiss you harder, one of your legs going up to wrap around his waist.

His lips are halfway down your neck when your phone starts to ring. The two of you ignore it at first, too lost in each other to pay it any real mind, and eventually it stops, just in time for Sae to make his way back up to your lips, his free hand shifting lower to grip at your thigh.

Not even a minute later, the ringing starts back up again, a loud, chiming tone that’s a lot harder to ignore the second time around. Reluctantly, Sae pulls away, though he doesn’t go very far— just enough to meet your eyes, one of his hands still cradling the side of your face.

“You should probably answer that,” he mutters, even as his other hand smooths over the skin of your thigh, his lips hovering just a breath away from your own.

“What?” you ask, dazed and distracted, your eyes still focused on his lips.

“Your phone, dumbass,” he replies, soft and amused, the corners of his mouth curling up at your reaction. “Answer it before your friends start a tequila-fueled search party.”

“Oh, shit— yeah.” The reality of his words spurs you back into action, your eyes widening a fraction as you snap yourself out of your daze. “Good call.”

You work together to untangle yourselves from each other, unwinding your arms from around his neck while Sae guides your leg back to the ground to help you find your footing. When he’s sure you won’t fall, he lets his hands drop and takes a step back, giving you space to answer the call.

You, however, seem to have other plans, your hand shooting out to grab onto the front of his shirt before he can get too far. Your phone is still ringing, even louder now that you’ve pulled it out of your purse, but you don’t seem too concerned about it, your attention focused solely on Sae.

“This’ll be quick,” you reassure him. “So don’t— don’t go anywhere, okay?”

It’s cute, Sae thinks, how earnest you sound when you say it, how serious you look as you ask him to stay. He’s never been good at denying you anything, even before he realized he had feelings for you, and now? Now, it’s the last thing on his mind. “Okay.”

Your expression brightens, lips curling up as you smile, pleased by his response. Then you let go of his shirt and swipe at your phone screen, bringing the device up to your ear.

“Hello?”

There’s a brief pause as you lean against the railing, awaiting a response. Sae doesn’t think much of it, until he hears you speak again.

“Oh, hey, Adrian.”

That’s when the tension in his chest from earlier returns full force, every muscle in Sae’s body locking up the moment your ex-boyfriend’s name leaves your lips. You don’t pick up on it, either, too focused on your conversation to notice the frown on his face or the furrow of his brow.

(He can’t tell if that makes things better or worse.)

“Yeah, I’m okay. I just stepped out for a minute,” you continue, oblivious to the tension in his frame, the scoff he just barely manages to hide. “No, I’m not, I promise— I’m with a friend.”

A friend, you say, as if that’s all you expect from him, all you want him to be. Just a friend, as if everything that’s happened between you tonight doesn’t matter.

Needless to say, it doesn’t sit well with him at all.

Is that why you told him you were okay with him missing your party? Why you looked so surprised when he showed up anyway? Because you wanted to spend the night with your ex-boyfriend instead?

Earlier, Sae thought that the longing and urgency that poured from your lips as you kissed him back meant something, that you could actually want him the way he wants you. Not just as a friend or a hookup or whatever the hell it is you’ve been doing this whole time, but as something more, something real.

He understands now that it was all just wishful thinking on his part, a fantasy he should’ve known better than to indulge. He feels whatever softness you managed to bring out of him fade away, and with it his desire to open his heart and confess his feelings for you.

The logical part of his brain, the part he usually has no trouble listening to, knows he’s overreacting. It isn’t fair of him to assume there’s something going on with you and Adrian just because you answered his phone call, just like it isn’t fair of him to assume you’ll understand his feelings without him actually talking to you about them.

Still, it’s hard to be logical when all Sae can focus on is the churn of his stomach and the ache in his chest as he watches you chat with your ex. It’s a little easier than watching you interact with him in person, Sae supposes, but not by much. He still feels ready to throw up by the end of it, frustrated and annoyed for reasons he still isn’t sure how to explain to you.

Thankfully, you don’t stay on the phone for long. Your conversation with Adrian only lasts a minute or two, and then you’re hanging up the call, tucking your phone back into your purse without any further distractions.

You reach for Sae the moment your hands are free, throwing your arms around his neck and pressing your body against his. It’s muscle memory for him to open his arms and welcome you, his hands moving to rest at your waist before he can stop himself.

“Now,” you say with a smile, earnest and eager as you lean in close, “where were we?”

You kiss him, then, determined to pick up exactly where you left off, your lips warm and soft as they move against his own. And if it were any other day, then Sae would be kissing you back without a second thought, tightening his grip on your waist and pulling you even closer.

But that was before your phone call with Adrian, before you laughed and said Sae was just your friend, right after he kissed you and held you in a way he thought would make it clear that he wanted more than that. Now it’s all he can think about, all that frustration and bitterness he felt earlier —and jealousy, he realizes now, begrudgingly, unfortunately— settling into his chest in the worst way.

It doesn’t take you long to notice his hesitance. You feel his lack of response and pull back, a look of concern on your face as you meet his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

If Sae were better, more honest, he’d tell you the truth. He’d tell you how much he hates the idea of you and your ex reconnecting, how he can’t stand seeing you with Adrian or anyone else for that matter, not because he actually knows him or because he doesn’t trust your judgment, but because he wants you to be with him instead.

But Sae can’t do that. In fact, just the mere thought of putting himself out there, of allowing himself to be that vulnerable without knowing exactly what’s going on inside your head makes him feel like he’s going to be sick, so he doesn’t.

He just shuts down entirely, closing himself off the way he always does whenever he starts feeling more than he knows how to handle. It’s probably the worst thing he can do at this moment, especially when it comes to you, but that’s of little consequence to him when he feels as raw and hopelessly human as he does right now.

“You should get back inside,” is what he tells you instead, distancing himself in the only way he knows how, though it’s the exact opposite of what his heart wants. “Your friends are waiting for you.”

At first, the bitterness in his tone is lost on you. Your lips curve into a smirk, your voice playful and coy as you lower your hands to his neck and tug at the collar of his shirt. “They can wait a little longer.”

You lean in to kiss him again, pulling on his collar so he can meet you halfway, your tongue sliding along his bottom lip. He ends up kissing you back despite himself, parting his lips so your tongue can meet his before he has the chance to think better of it.

It takes him longer than he’d like to admit to remember he’s supposed to be distancing himself from you, too lost in the feeling of your lips moving against his to recall why he was so upset in the first place.

Eventually, though, he finds it in himself to pull away, turning his head before you have the chance to kiss him again. “Something tells me Adrian wouldn’t agree with you.”

This time, you do notice the bitterness in his voice. You loosen your grip on his collar, drawing back to give him a funny look. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. Just forget it.” Sae lets his hands drop, releasing his hold on your waist. You’re so caught off guard, you don’t even complain, your own hands falling back down to your sides as he takes a step away from you. “You can leave my jacket with Oliver. I’ll get it from him later.”

“Wait, what?” You don’t bother to hide your confusion at his sudden shift in mood, eyes wide as you stare at him in disbelief. “You’re leaving?”

“You said it yourself.” He shoves his hands into his pockets, the smile he sends you wry and humorless. “Parties aren’t really my thing.”

“Yeah, well, neither is being passive aggressive, but you seem to be doing a great job of that right now.” You cross your arms over your chest and frown, your normally relaxed features twisting into a scowl. You’re definitely annoyed by his behavior, but he can see in your eyes that you’re hurt by it, too. He thought seeing that would make him feel better, but it doesn’t. “Why are you being like this, Sae? A minute ago, we were totally fine, and now you’re acting like you’re mad at me or something.”

“I’m not acting like anything.”

“Yes, you are, and I want to know why. I mean, all I did was answer one phone call, so why are you acting so— oh. Oh, my god. Is that why you’re mad at me? Because of the phone call?”

Sae turns to scoff at you, acting as if he couldn’t care less, even though the problem is that he very much does. “You really think I give a shit that you spoke to your ex?”

“Why does it matter that he’s my ex?” You tilt your head, then, eyebrows furrowed in confusion, until slowly —despite his best efforts— the realization begins to dawn on you. All at once, your confusion disappears, replaced by a wide-eyed, knowing look that makes whatever hope he had of avoiding this conversation vanish. “Itoshi Sae, are you jealous?”

You’re right, of course —frustratingly enough, you kind of always are— but Sae thinks he’d rather chew concrete than admit it, especially when he’s already resigned himself to burying his feelings.

It’s why he kisses his teeth at your words, his lip curling up in disdain. “Tch, you wish.”

“Liar. You’re jealous as hell. In fact, I bet the whole reason you were even out here in the first place is because you saw me dance with him and got all sulky about it. That’s how jealous you are.” You’re confident enough about it to dare to take a step forward, raising an eyebrow as you meet his eyes with an expectant look. “Am I wrong?”

All Sae can do is scowl at you, irritated by both your smugness and the fact that it does nothing to change the way he feels about you. “You’re a pain in the ass, is what you are.”

And because you’re you, of course his words don’t offend you in the slightest. If anything, your satisfaction only grows, your lips curving into a smirk that’s as pleased as it is insufferable. “I still haven’t heard a ‘no.’”

Sae grimaces but remains silent, half because he’s stubborn and half because you aren’t wrong. You’ve always been smart, too smart, really —it’s one of the things he likes most about you— so of course you were able to pick up on his jealousy, despite his attempts at denying it.

He expects you to give him a hard time over it, maybe even chew him out for how immature and ridiculous he’s been acting as a result, but you surprise him by wrapping your arms around his shoulders. When he doesn’t push you away, you take that as a sign to continue, tangling your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck.

“You know you don’t have to be jealous, right?” Your voice is tender and comforting when you speak. There’s a certain seriousness in it, too, a firmness that lets him know how much you mean it. He wishes it didn’t affect him as much as it does. “Adrian and I used to be a thing, sure, but it’s not like that between us anymore. He and I are just friends now.”

“You mean the same way you and I are just friends?”

“Oh, wow, you really are jealous. Is that why you showed up tonight? You wanted to make sure there was nothing going on between me and my ex?”

“It couldn’t matter to me even if there was.” He tries not to sound bitter when he says it, but his efforts are hardly effective, the half-smile he forces tight-lipped and strained, even as he moves his hands to settle on your hips. “It’s not like I’m your boyfriend.”

“I didn’t think you’d ever want to be,” you admit, low and honest. And maybe he’s just imagining it, but he swears there’s a hint of disappointment in your voice, too, a sadness he isn’t quite sure how to make sense of. “I mean, back when we started all this, neither of us wanted a relationship. Has that changed?”

It takes all Sae has to keep himself from ripping his own hair out, because haven’t you been paying attention at all? Of course it’s changed. Do you really think he’d be here fighting with himself and agonizing over how to confess to you if it hadn’t?

He wants to tell you as much, can feel the words right there on the tip of his tongue, but his pride keeps him from saying them out loud, at least not until he knows exactly how you feel, too.

“Has it changed for you?”

“Not so fast, hotshot. I asked you first.”

He sighs. “Seriously?”

“Yeah, seriously.” The look you give him is as unapologetic as it is pointed, the sternness in your voice leaving little room for argument. “You almost walked away from me on my birthday, asshole. The least you can do now is answer my question.”

It’s a fair point, he knows, especially after everything he’s put you through tonight, but Sae is nothing if not completely awful when it comes to verbalizing his feelings. He knows it most likely won’t be enough to satisfy you, but he gives your hips a gentle squeeze anyway, wrapping his arms around your waist to bring you closer. “Isn’t this answer enough?”

“Not even close,” you tell him flatly, every bit as unimpressed as he thought you’d be. “I want you to tell me how you really feel about me. And I want you to say it with your words, not just hold me or kiss me and expect me to read between the lines.”

“Words aren’t really my strong suit,” he mutters, more honest now than he’s been all night, averting his gaze to the floor.

“Try anyway.” You lift a hand and run your fingers through his hair the way you know he likes. It’s disarming enough to have him meeting your gaze once more. Your eyes are soft, searching. Patient, too, despite him, the way you always seem to be. “Come on, Sae. Is it really that hard for you to be honest with me?”

He laughs, though there isn’t any humor to it. “You have no idea.”

“Do you want me to leave?”

“Of course not.”

“Are you okay with me dating other people?”

“Definitely not.”

“Why?”

Sae narrows his eyes, shooting you a flat look, because you know. You have to know. After everything he’s said, everything he’s done, there’s no way you haven’t pieced it together by now. “You already know why.”

“Oh, I do,” you confirm, smug and irritating as ever, smile bright and eyes knowing, “but I want to hear you say it, anyway.” You brush his hair out of his eyes, and he watches as your expression morphs into something softer, something fond and affectionate that makes his heart stutter the way it’s only ever done around you. “For me?”

And though it isn’t easy for him, though it goes against all of his better instincts and is quite possibly the last thing he’s ever wanted to do— for you, he decides to be sincere. “Fine.”

He takes a deep breath and forces himself to find the words, urged on by the weight of you in his arms and the tender, encouraging way you’re looking at him. It’s daunting for him to be this honest, not to mention completely unnerving, especially when you both know how bad he is with words in general— but for you, he’s willing to try.

“...I like you. I really, really like you, as in I have feelings for you, and this thing we’ve been doing, this casual, no strings, whatever the hell it is— it’s not enough for me anymore. And I want— I want to be with you. For real, this time, if— if you’ll have me.”

Sae snaps his mouth closed the moment he’s able to get the words out, bracing himself for your reaction. He isn’t sure what he’s expecting from you, exactly —rejection, reciprocation, maybe some backwards, nonsensical combination of them both— but he’s determined to be prepared for it regardless, determined to appear unaffected, even if it means he has to grit his teeth to do so.

But then you’re cupping his face in your hands, gaze soft and open and filled with the kind of affection he never once imagined he’d be on the receiving end of, and any notion he had of remaining unaffected is promptly cast aside, replaced by the warmth of your touch and the tender, fond way you look at him.

You lean in, and it’s all Sae can do to close his eyes as you press your lips against his in a slow, gentle kiss. The gesture is soft and surprisingly chaste, soft like the way he kissed you earlier, back when he was trying to communicate the extent of his feelings. It doesn’t last very long, but it doesn’t need to, not when he can feel it linger even after you pull away, delicate and deliberate, important in all the ways that matter.

When he opens his eyes, he finds that you’re already looking at him, your lips pulled into that soft little smile he doesn’t think he’ll ever get sick of. Then you wrap your arms around his neck, resting your forehead against his.

“I want to be with you, too,” you say, steady and sure, without a hint of regret or uncertainty, and Sae swears something in his chest cracks wide open, every bit of affection he’s ever felt for you pouring out until it’s all he knows, all he can feel. “As way more than just casual. I have for a while now.”

“You have?” The confession catches him off guard, makes his eyes widen a fraction as he pulls back just enough to meet your gaze properly. “Since when?”

“Since your away game in France.” You say it naturally, doubtlessly, without any of the hesitation he would’ve had to grapple with to do the same thing. Not for the first time, he finds himself envying how easy you make it look, how effortless it is for you to be so honest and upfront about your feelings. “You were only gone for two weeks, but it felt like ages. Then you showed up to my apartment with pastries from that bakery your manager suggested, and they were amazing, but all I could think about was how happy I was that you were back. That’s when I knew I was in trouble.”

For a moment, Sae has no idea what to say. His away game in France was almost two months ago. You’ve had feelings for him since back then? If that was the case, then why didn’t you tell him? Had he really made you feel like you couldn’t talk to him about it?

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I wanted to, but every time I thought about bringing it up, I’d remember what we said about keeping it casual. I figured if I said something, it’d scare you off. And I didn’t— I didn’t want to lose you. I still don’t.”

You look down, then, averting your gaze, uncharacteristically nervous as you fidget with the buttons on his shirt. And as Sae watches you standing there in front of him, quiet and apprehensive in a way he’s never seen you before, he wonders if maybe he’s not the only one who’s been reluctant to be vulnerable, after all.

Things would be different if either one of you had said something sooner, he knows. If you’d been brave enough to let the other in. He imagines it would’ve saved you both a lot of time, knowing that it wasn’t just one-sided, that your feelings were returned.

But you’re still here. You both are, and that’s more than enough, he thinks. It’s everything.

(After all, Sae’s never wanted anything the way he wants you.)

It’s why he takes your chin in his hand, urging you to look up at him. For once, you don’t put up much of a fight, your eyes flickering up to meet his own.

That’s when he kisses you, soft and sweet, passionate and patient the way you’ve always been with him, the way he knows you deserve to have returned. He kisses you like he means it, like you have all the time in the world, because right now, you do. He kisses you, and he hopes you feel the promise in it, the one that this time, he won’t hesitate to say out loud.

“You don’t have to worry about losing me, dummy,” he tells you as soon as you break apart for air, breathless and sincere as he presses his forehead against yours. “Because I’m not going anywhere.”

You smile at him, then, knowing how much he means it, bright and beaming as you take his hand in yours and lace your fingers together.

“I’m not going anywhere, either,” you promise, and the best part is, you don’t.

When the two of you go back inside to rejoin the party, you do it together, your hand tucked securely into his, your fingers intertwined. You’re still wearing his jacket, still smiling at him in that warm, easy way of yours. He knows now for sure it’s something he’ll never get tired of, knows he’s going to spend the rest of the foreseeable future making sure he deserves it.

When your friends see you walk in holding hands with Sae, chaos ensues. Thankfully, the two of you are more than prepared for it, braving their onslaught of wolf-whistles and too-personal questions without missing a beat.

Somehow, Oliver and Aina are the loudest of the bunch, hooting and hollering in matching degrees of shock and excitement, despite already knowing what the two of you have been up to these past few months. Shidou isn’t far behind them, though he does lament Sae’s new taken status. He wraps an arm around each of your shoulders and very seriously offers himself up to the two of you as a willing volunteer for a threesome, should you ever find yourselves in the market for one.

You and Sae take it all in stride, enduring their teasing and answering their least invasive questions until finally you decide to use your birthday authority to put an end to their pestering, declaring in no uncertain terms that they all go back to celebrating. They complain about it, of course, well-meaning and meddlesome as they are, but still they do as you ask, cooing and waggling their eyebrows at you as they take their leave.

“I’m sorry our friends are all unhinged weirdos,” you apologize as soon as everyone else is gone, blunt and serious enough to make Sae laugh. You’re sitting in his lap on the couch, the two of you tucked away in a dark corner of the lounge in an attempt at finding some reprieve from all the chatter and excitement of the night. “And that they have no concept of what it means to mind their own business.”

He hums in acknowledgement, reassuring you with a kiss to your shoulder that there’s nothing you need to apologize for. You smile at the gesture and drape your arm around his shoulders in turn, using your other hand to press your palm against his cheek and make him look up at you.

It’s only then he notices the slight crease in your brow, the worry you’re trying your best to play off with a carefree smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “They didn’t scare you away, did they?”

“Not even close.” He shakes his head and squeezes at your hip, taking your hand in his to press a kiss against your palm. “You’re gonna have to do a lot more than that to get rid of me.”

“Good.” You wind your fingers through his, that smile he likes —maybe even loves— curving its way onto your lips. Happiness has always been a fickle thing for Sae, floating just outside of his reach, but he sees the way you look at him, feels the warmth of your skin against his, and he knows— it’s here. It’s you. It’s always been you. “I’m glad.”

Yeah, Sae thinks, shifting to meet you halfway as you lean down for his lips, only this time he doesn’t have to worry about hiding or burying his feelings. This time, he doesn’t have to do anything at all except kiss you, the girl he’s wanted for too long, the one he finally gets to call his. So am I.

Written by: Dawn Taglist link

┌─ “ ! „ SHE’S ‘TAKEN’

tw. a/b/o, forced cheating, alpha!umemiya is sort of sleazy, noncon/dubcon, a lot of alpha/omega, spit, breeding, knotting, size kink, reader called short/tiny/little, squirting, snowballing, calling ume daddy, pseudo-cesty, niichan, unrelated vomit mention, possessiveness, praise, degradation, a lot of orgasms, (belly bulge), fighting

wordcount. 9.1k

a/n. alternate title: oh is she?,, a million thank yous to mel @gimme-hiragi for helping me with my wb questions and rhi @seijorhi loml you’re the best for always reading my writing through for me ur the backbone of my life couldn’t do nothing without you ♡ and thank you aki for letting me joIN yOUR LOVELY EVENt it is adorable i had such a good time writing!!!

for @xrux’s into the omegaverse collab

umemiya hajime x fem!reader x kaji ren

“Let go, I’m over it!” Everyone’s looking at the way you yank up the edge of your top to make sure you’re covered, yank the edge of your ripped jeans skirt a bit lower. You’re wobbling side to side on your heels as you bend to take one off, almost falling in the process only to lean your head against Kaji’s lower stomach, whimpering all the while. You hick, and pout— ungraceful in a way only drunk people can be.

The icy blond by your side still has his sweater held out to you, as he pants, fists balled to his side with gritted teeth. “Don’t made a scene. Put it on.”

They’d been out on their own, ‘til Kaji suddenly slammed his phone down on the table and left behind their orders of yakiniku. To drag his very sloppy girlfriend, you, out of some sleazy bar lined with jerks smoking enough to make the entire alley cloudy. Now he has a forming black eye to match his bad attitude, but the other guy was worse off. The -not getting up, nose crooked and bloody- kind of worse.

You’re not Hajime’s girlfriend, so he’s in no position to judge, but at the very least he’d also feel sort of uncomfortable leaving any girl in a place like this. Former gang territory. Whole lot of grimy types, the kind they protect people from. If you’re dating Kaji, he’s sure you know that.

You bend over your knees to gag up nothing, pushing away Kaji’s hand when he reaches to hold your hair back.

You’re a mess, from what he can tell perched against the wall along with Sakura, Nirei and Hiragi. The former two who look mildly uncomfortable, the latter who’s own distracted hands search his jacket for his phone. “What do you wanna do? Call it a night?”

Umemiya’s honestly off as bad as you are, curtesy of the badly mixed drinks he’d been throwing back, and he guesses none of the guys are any better off. Sakura can’t hold his drinks at the best of times, and it’s been a long night of celebrations. 5:08, the display of Hiragi’s phone shows.

His mind ticks a bit slower than he’d like.

A moment where he debates getting involved, but then sighs. “I’d like to let them fix it on their own, though~”

You’re still leaning against your boyfriend’s hip as you try again to work something out with your shoe, hair flopped forward all over your face. Round and soft and totally out of place in a spot like this, though the way you’re dressed you definitely could have him fooled if you tried. It’s in the way your eyes flick up all big and innocent-like at your boyfriend’s call, that he can tell.

Kaji’s already draped the sweater over your shoulders, something you don’t seem to realize— because when he tries to help you up you only snap more. “Stop touching me, I’m gonna go home!”

“Go home faster then.” Kaji fumes, though one hand remains around your waist until you’re done with whatever needed adjusting on your terribly flimsy looking heels. “Can’t you just once do what I ask of you? You make me crazy,” he breathes back, and you get- what he supposes should be nose to nose. You’re a couple inches too short to square up to anyone.

“You know what, Ren.” Your pretty lips sound out the words slowly. “Fuck you.”

At that, one of the onlookers hoots enthusiastically, and Kaji’s brows get even more furrowed— but he only stares you down. With neither side backing down, he eventually plops one of his signature suckers in his mouth to cut the conversation short.

You turn and start wobbling down the stairs of the club, not even sparing them a glance.

Your big eyes are dark and blown and you’ve got a nose that’s bitten by the cold with tears, or snot, dripping— he’s not sure when you started crying, but you definitely are now. “‘M so sick of your goddamn attitude.” You breathe. Kaji’s close behind to pull you back by your wrist, but this time you let out a whimper. You yank your arm out of his grip as you plant both feet against the way he tries not so graciously to drag you, and the sandy blond has a vein that thumps in his temple.

“Don’t touch me! Leave me alone. Go be a possessive prick to someone else.” You take the sweater from around your shoulders and shove it back into his chest hard enough to make him step back. Then you finally start walking off down the wet, littered street under the encouraging whistling of the drunkards lined up against the other wall.

When Kaji no longer makes an attempt to stop you, the few of them slowly make their way over to the young man— and Umemiya places an empathetic hand on the other’s shoulder. Kaji’s steely blue eyes trace you even as you swing your hips, eye twitching. “Stubborn fucking-,” he pants, “Omega brat- can’t hold a drop of her liquor.” Ah. Kaji runs a frustrated hand through his hair, making it stand up every which way, before he finally grits his teeth.

“Someone please fucking go after her. She’s days out from heat and restless to shit, she’ll get herself hurt.” Yeah, that’ll do it. That explains the big blinkers and the sweetness. Hiragi’s quick to start looking for his motorcycle keys, but the oldest waves his hand at that.

“You can’t drive in this state, Hiragi. You’ll hit someone. We still have to pay and our food is waiting for us, too.” Sakura and Nirei wouldn’t speak up about it, but leaving the food behind must’ve stung. He hands his card to Kaji with a smile. “I got ‘er. You guys are staying at my place anyway, right? Take a few hours to round off a good night.” He winks. “Leave it up to your niichan!”

He only has to follow you about two blocks before you crouch down and start sniffling, and he stops a few feet short of you as not to scare you. Even without Kaji’s explanation, he’d be able to tell that the honeyed, enticing scent emanating from you is too sugary to be anything other. With how close he comes to a halt by your side it’s almost choking on his lungs. Umemiya clears his throat. “Hey, you remember me?”

You’re crying into your palms, skirt halfway up your ass and exposing your panties— he’s just glad it’s just you two here. “I- hck- didn’t mean it. ‘M sorry, Ren kun. Jus’ wanna- I’m all over the place. Just- feel weird right now. I’m sorry, I really am.” Pre-heat mood swings. You’re cute, even cuter when you suck your bottom lip in between your teeth and wipe the tears to look up at him. When you notice he’s not in fact ‘Ren-kun’, you get a bit embarrassed.

Even though he doesn’t know you too well, he does notice you’re definitely pretty. Hot, even. Despite the mascara and eyeliner smudged onto your lower eyelids, your lips look soft as they open to say -nothing-, and you breathe in and out.

He can’t help but let eyes flick down to your ass resting on your ankles, how your plush thighs stick out from under the tightened skirt and you’re not even thinking of covering up. It’s not your fault. He’s trying not to get too much of your scent down deep into his lungs, but way he’s guessing, you’ve probably got a day before your body will start heating from the inside out- leave your pussy a wet, wanton clenching mess to get bred full-

He needs something else to think about. Something other than those sheer lace panties that show all of your pussy if he really tries to look.

“You’re… Kaji’s friend. Bofurin, right? We’ve seen each other before, though it’s the first time we’ve really talked.” You’re calmed down enough to get flustered when he too comes to sit on his heels, nice leather jacket brushing the floor. Good to know that the presence of an Alpha doesn’t scare you off. If anything, you’re calm enough to get affected by him, and it makes pride bloom inside his chest. “It’s Ume…”

“Umemiya Hajime.”

Since you’ll be staying at his place with your boyfriend for a good two weeks anyway, you might as well stay a little sooner. He’s pretty sure that’d be fine, but he’ll have to text to check. “Kaji asked me to take you home since he can’t. When you’re ready.”

You start gathering your hair into a pony as you nod. “Sorry about earlier, Umemiya-san. Don’t know what came over me. I think I’m just a little -overly emotional right now. I- might’ve drank too much too.” Probably Kaji’s frustration about the situation that set you off in the first place. You stare at a dent in the road with a lidded look as you talk- then clear your voice. “Mh.”

He smiles, before reaching out to pet your head. Being this close to an Omega getting into heat just feels electric, he can’t help it. He wants to pick you up and lick your tears from your face. Not that he will. You’re a precious kouhai’s, and that’s stronger than anything his animalistic nature demands he do. You’re quiet until he pulls his hand back, holds the urge to wind it down to your little neck and bite down on soft skin. You’re just so affected right now.

He’s sort of surprised Kaji didn’t start an all out brawl with whoever was no doubt drooling all over you in that club. He’s about halfway there himself, and he’s only got honourable intentions.

If you’re bothered by his silence, you don’t say anything. So he nods.

“Kaji said something about holding your liquor, yeah- but I-” A guttural groan rings between you two. When he looks back at you, you’re bending over your own knees to gag, placing both hands on the dirty street to hold yourself. “Oh- whoops,” he chuckles, and reaches out to hold your hair back, as you throw up away from your nice shoes as best you can. “You got it, sweetheart. I’ve got water in my car.”

+

He’s halfway through a cup of coffee when he hears you rummaging in the other room. A bit of shuffling, before you put your clothes from last night back on, probably. He only got you halfway through the door before you started stripping against the warmth. “Ren? Huh- babe?” You ask into the hall, and your cute, little voice rings out. You’re scenting up his whole apartment, have been since he woke up first thing at daybreak. It’s definitely stronger than it was even last night when he dropped you into his bed with the explicit intention of washing the sheets as soon as you woke up.

He clears his voice. “Ren said he’d be over in the afternoon. Apparently Sakura puked all over his car…”

”Oh.”

It doesn’t take too long for you to come out of his room wrapped in a blanket over the terribly short mini skirt, and the definite glow of a sheen of sweat on your cheeks as you process. 

In the morning light it’s even easier to see that you’re an Omega through and through. Every part of you is soft and rounded and supple for grabbing, flushed face blinking away sleep. Truth is, he really doesn’t know you all that well. He knows you met Kaji through Enomoto in high school. Knows you started dating somewhere around university— and that some of the Furin guys got into a bit of a scuffle over it. Didn’t think you should be dating Kaji, or Kaji you- he can’t remember.

Seeing how you pop your hip out to watch him, blink those big doe eyes up at him— he think he sort of understands. After a few seconds too long where you start to giggle at the silence, he stops studying you to grin. “Coffee? A cold water?”

“I appreciate that you’re so willing to brush my behavior from yesterday aside, but I’m still sorry. That you Bofurin lot always have to step up. And that I ended up causing trouble for Ren again...” It might be the heat in the room, but his collar feels a bit too tight when you rest your ass against the cupboards with a little smile. Your heat is not just close, it’s full-on started. His chest feels heavier, and skin a bit tight.

You hum. “…Something cold would be great, thank you. I’m feeling a little hot.”

The way you look up at him from under your lashes tells him you aren’t entirely unaware of it, either. He can’t decide if you’re coy, or just trusting. He pulls his sweater over his head and tosses it onto the table, smoothing his shirt out in agreement. “Might be hot in here, yeah.”

It’s so quick he almost misses it. But you eyes definitely slip to the sliver of skin that shows when the fabric rides up. It makes his groin stir in his shorts to watch how you catch yourself, and heat makes its way up to the tips of your ears and nose.

He hums as he bends for the fridge, not bothering to watch you as he talks. Your scent is so strong you could hide across the street and he’d be able to sniff you out. A thought that, however guilty he feels about it, sounds really fucking good right about now. Chasing you down to sink his hot cock into that needy, fertile Omega cunt. His heart’s pounding like you’ll run any second, and he’s no longer as sure as he was last night that he could stop himself from chasing. Was it like this when his ex was going into heat too?

The cold water drips condensation down his arm when he hands it over to you. “You mean you cause trouble for Kaji often?”

You bite your lip. “We just have …discussions like that a lot, even though I love him very much. I guess we just still aren’t entirely used to each other.” When he lifts his eyebrow in question, you rub your both palms over your cheeks to get rid of the heat, dragging them through your hair. “You might’ve noticed that I’m an Omega.” Baby, ‘might’ve’ isn’t the word he’d use. It’s all he’s been able to think about since you stepped foot into his apartment yesterday.

His mind flashes to his precious kouhai for a moment, but the way your throat hitches snaps it out of him instantly.

You seem to get even hotter as you talk, and your voice pitches up into a softer sort of noise that makes the hairs on his neck stand upright. “It’s not like we’re a dying breed or anything… But ratio wise, people are used to Beta’s. Ren- would know how to handle a Beta. Most heat blockers don’t work too well on me,” you confess, “and Ren can’t just sit pretty for a week every other month to… s-service- me-”

You’re struggling on the words, like even mentioning the possible sex you’ll have pains you.

It’s so fucking cute. Poor little Omega doesn’t know what to do with herself. You’re not wrong though. He doesn’t know what it’s like for you, but without effective blockers, it’s not hard to imagine it really is all consuming.

“We’re still- trying to find our rhythm, and last time we couldn’t, a whole bunch of Furin got dragged into it because I couldn’t contain myself. It’s just embarrassing.” His breathing gets laboured just seeing you shift uncomfortably. Watches how your eyes dialate as your lashes flutter desperately up and down. You’re a fruit ripe for picking, baby. He tastes sugar in the air when he smiles, and your gaze finds his.

A stray sane thought reminds him he should back up. Open a window or something.

The Alpha in him is pounding on his brain though, making everything hard to stomach. He licks his bottom lip. “I don’t know, maybe he should consider it.”

“Wh- taking time off for me every heat?” You ask back, as your brows furrow. As you back up against the cupboards and squeak in surprise when you knock your heels against them.

Fuck, he’s getting so hard. If only he could lean you back a little further. He reaches out to take your face between his fingers and watch how your lips drop open. “Are you saying Kaji doesn’t want to?” Pretty, pink little tongue darting out to wet them. It’s only when you stop talking wide-eyd, that he notices he closed the distance at some point and is now basically towering over you, feet to feet with your face at his chest. 

”I-I’m saying I don’t want him to- pu- put his life on hold… and- Umemiya-san.” Fuck. He can hear the way your heart beats like a hummingbird in your chest. “You’re too close,” you’re starting to get that signature scared bunny look. Your eyes go anywhere but up at him where he wants you, as you swallow and ignore the cold shiver going through your body. The blanket’s pooled at your feet. “Where’s my phone, Ren should come now.”

“Hm, I put it somewhere…” He does try to think. It’s just that you’re looking so woefully vulnerable and flushed and desperate to get rid of that itch that’s starting to build in your belly. He leans in, you push against his chest. It honestly only turns him on more. He shouldn’t be this eager to take a bite of you right from under Ren’s nose, right? His hands wind down your waist and you honest-to-God mewl like a fucking kit- whining when he leans in.

Just a few little kisses won’t kill either of you. His shorts feel way too tight, and a nagging little voice in the back of his head asks him to just fill you up, knot inside you. Bite an ugly mark right over the faded one Kaji gave you. “Umemiya-san.” He’s big enough that he could take your boyfriend on if he had to. He pushes in and grabs the back of your neck. “Umemiya!” You force out, before his mouth finds yours and he hikes you up against the kitchen cupboards for better access.

Your head falls back instinctively, letting his lips push against you, tongue pushing against yours as he steps up to your body. Large hands that glide up under your top and brush the sensitive skin under your tits- until you moan softly into his mouth, arching your back. He can’t help but chuckle. It’s not exactly proper to use a girl’s heat against her, feeling you spread your legs wider to make room. He kisses deeper, licks against your gums to make you taste of him, before whispering. “So vocal. What would Kaji say?”

It only takes a second of instinct, thump ringing out.

You punch him in the cheek. More surprised than anything, he grunts low and drawn out as he grabs his jaw, and watches how you scramble back to the floor and far away from him. The punch didn’t actually hurt much, you didn’t put any weight into it. Your anxious energy is what really does it, searching for his eyes with tears in your own. “My phone,” you beg more than say, hands now protectively around yourself.

He blinks a few times, until he can store away that predatory scow for long enough to speak. “Sorry. I got carried away.” Your face gets hot again, shoulders dropping. “You’re okay, I promise. The strength of it just took me aback, ‘is all. You did good socking me out of it.” The silver blond puts on a smile.

Besides that, he just wanted it more than he wanted to stop it.

He can’t exactly say that though, instead perching himself back against the cupboards. A safe distance away from where you’re rubbing the backs of your hands over your cheeks full of embarrassment, trying not to push your thighs together. It only makes him want to pin you down even more. His eyes glide down your body again. “We were switching apartments, right? You should probably head over there now. Tell Ren to head over quicker, that my heat came early.” You swallow heavily.

He definitely can’t tell you that right now, he’d rather do anything else. That would make him a bad guy. Someone Kaji shouldn’t have trusted with you. He’s got better things to do than obsess over some animalistic breeding instinct, doesn’t he? He should be worrying about making sure his little brothers are alright, that Sakura isn’t dying.

He nods as he stands to make his way past you. The scent is so heavy now that it’s taking everything in his power not to drool, and his chubbed up cock twitches to life in his boxers at the way you stare him down.

+

“Umemiya.” The dinner place is too loud, or the call too quiet for him to pay attention the first time. “Umemiya.” Hiragi repeats louder, and when that still doesn’t get results, he punches his arm softly. A bit harder than he could, for good measure. “Umemiya, what’s up with you? You keep spacing out on me midway conversation.”

Hiragi pops the cigarette back between his lips, watching him through his eyelashes as he sparks the lighter with one hand. In response, the blond wafts away some of the smoke, then hums. “My bad. You know the girl from the bar this morning, right- the cute, little thing… big eyes, short skirt, uhm- y’know the Omega,” he distractedly picks up his beer to tilt it edge to edge as Hiragi lifts a brow.

“Are you talking about Kaji’s girlfriend?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, that’s the one.” He makes a bit of a show of tapping his fingers on his bottom lip, before resting his head in his palm. “I’m just trying to figure out where I’ve seen her before.”

“Uhuh.”

If his long lasting friend thinks anything about his sudden curiosity, he has enough sense not to say it. Hiragi’s a good guy. Probably good enough to put a stop to Umemiya himself if he acted out too much. When the silvery blond doesn’t elaborate, Hiragi just clears his voice, tapping ash into the tray. “Not sure. I know she didn’t go to Furin or San Middle though.” He furrows his brows when Umemiya only drinks. “Didn’t you run into her with Kaji before? They’ve been dating for a good while now.”

“No, no, I would’ve remembered that. It was before Kaji. I could’ve sworn…” He swings his arms next to his chair, before tapping his hand on the table when he ‘remembers’. “Oh, wasn’t she- one of the Shishitoren girls back when.” A genial smile tugs at his lips before taking another sip. “Before, when they were still using girls like expensive cars and Togame would drag them around town to patrol our borders. Would drive all the Beta’s up the walls. I think I even remember Kaji getting-”

“-Into a fight over it with some of our guys, yeah.” Hiragi suddenly clicks his fingers, “that might’ve been her, after all.” He takes a drink of his own glass, humming along the rim. “I scolded him for it back then, but looking back, he was probably just protecting the person he loved. In his way.”

Sure… Umemiya stares off into the rest of the bar instead of replying. Always so genuine, Tamon’s team captain. Can’t fault the guy. But his honesty really does get in the way. Across from him, Hiragi lifts his own bottle. “So?”

He knows his eyes are too sharp in the low light. Umemiya puts on his best smile. “No, nothing. I’m just glad Togame turned a new leaf since then.” He finally allows himself to grab one of the delicious looking skewers, humming around the mouth full. “I mean, it would be some real shit for Kaji if Shishitoren suddenly wanted their Omega pet back.”

+

He crashes his mouth to yours, hands either side of you ass to lift you off the floor and drop you ask into bed, grunting. “Mh-hgh, came as,” he growls against your mouth, tongue tasting so much like strawberry lollipop, “soon as I fucking could. Stupid extra patrols gettin’ in my way.” His hands grab anywhere he can reach, digging in deep.

He’s short of breath, and you know it’s your scent that’s got him all rattled. Sinking his cock into you is one of the few moments he allows himself to let loose- you can tell by the way he’s chubbed up in his pants he’s been thinking about you for a while. He grunts into your mouth, tongue tasting yours. “Knew- you were- mhm-gonna get there. Been twitchy all day.”

“Uhuh, missed you. Missed you so much, all day- wan’it.” Your nails rake along his back to pull him closer, all his weight on top of you, and obnoxious kissing noises fill the room. You can’t help yourself, the heat travels down every vein, settles in your toes, your hands, in your tongue. The tongue currently being sucked into your boyfriend’s mouth as he grunts your name and makes you rock your center against the seam of his jeans until he pulls back. “Ren, Ren, Ren~”

Umemiya’s bed squeaks under the weight as he gets on top of you halfway, one thigh straddling you against the mattress.

More. You want more. Your heart is banging like a battering ram against your ribs as you slide your hands under his sweatshirt, and drag your fingers up the ridges and dents of his muscles, the thin scars. All while whimpering like an animal, something you might not be aware of, but is driving your Alpha absolutely insane.

A low rumble falls from his chest as he grips your face harshly, and steely blues flick over your expression. He black eye has started turning pretty purple under his skin, cut still on his brow. “Still a brat? Gonna fight me again for taking care of ya?”

“Nuh uh,” you quickly say back, and press sweet, messy kisses on his pink lips. They’ve gone all puffy, and it’s making it hard to think straight.

“Wanna take some medicine? Just in case,” Kaji pants after a few seconds in concern, hand worming its way between your bodies for his fingers to swipe over the absolute mess you’ve made out of your panties. They’re soaked straight through— something that once he notices, he takes a laboured breath so slow it makes him flush all the way up his chest. “Fu—ck, pretty girl. You’ve been wet and empty all day like this?”

”Mhm.” You nod again. Don’t have even a single thought to tell him that you sat with the terrible ache ever since another blond fought his way out of the door, because that was a stupid accident. Stupid. Single. Accident. “Ren, Ren- please. Mh-ghuh,” you moan, and your body curls to rub against his crotch despite yourself, “can’t take any more. Please~ please, please, please. Want- my Alpha.” Sticky, translucent slick is all over your pussy, ran down your thighs and ass and you’re now getting it all over his pants.

Your boyfriend looks so wild and unfocused it could honestly be kind of scary- if you weren’t already scenting up the whole house and terribly shaky yourself. Your legs wrap around his glutes to pull him closer, as the icy blond tries to stutter out a groan. “Your pills…”

“Don’t want ‘m if you’re here. Ren, I want your cock already~”

The tiniest twitch to his lips proves he’s smiling into another messy kiss he lays on you, before starting to drag his teeth along your neck. “So fucking whiny. ‘S cute. Yeah, you wanna have me fucking you full for days? Get stuffed full of cock ‘til you can’t stand?” Yes. Yes yes yesyesyes. You’re not sure if you’re nodding, because all you can feel is his fingers pressing into your thighs, grabbing your ass and forcing you right up against the seam of his pants.

When he reaches the spot you’re the most sensitive with his mouth, your body stills in anticipation, and almost explodes when instead of bitin down, Ren’s hot tongue makes circles over the tiniest scar he left last time. “My little Omega bitch, mine, mine.”

His eyes have gone all blown out. Your own face is burning hot, and so is everything else as you let him mark up your neck, sniffing around the area without any other thought. You want his bite, you want his cock and his knot in you, filling you up to the brim ‘til you’re nice and full and round and you’re good to nest up— you want to be bred full so bad it’s all you can think about.

”Mh-mghh, Ren~” Your voice doesn’t sound like your own. It barely belongs to you, pitched and tiny and so fucking desperate.

You don’t notice the way your moans are filling the room or how wet and messy your pussy’s getting his pants. Just that his heartbeat’s in his tongue as he sucks harder and harder until his teeth grate over your throat. Ren grunts as he pulls back, one hand grabbing your one of your tits to kneed greedily in the flesh, as the other starts pulling your underwear off from under your skirt. “Smells too much like Umemiya in here-” It’s angry but not accusing, as he stands back to watch your glistening pussy clench around nothing.

“Turn over.” Your legs shake, and without much will of your own you start rolling over to stick your ass in the air to give him a better view. Kaji’s voice just gets quiet, as two fingers slide the slick around your pussy down to your clit. When you mewl, jerking at the touch, he throws his head back and groans deep and animalistically, before holding the fingers to his nose. His eyes clench shut when they roll back in his skull. “Shhh-Stay down. Everything off- fuck, fucking shit, babe. ‘S fucking hot —all mine.”

It’s instinct that makes you oblige. Not a single coherent thought makes it through your brain. Just him, in you, your pussy, your mouth, you want Ren, Ren, Ren, your Alpha fucking you, over you, breeding you. It’s so hot, but you’re still cold without the heat of his fat cock in you. The top goes first, ungracefully pull it over your face and lose an earring in the process. You want him. Your poor pussy wants to be so full, full full full you can’t walk fo a week.

“Alpha, n- hurry, hurry. Hurts without you, really, really does. Wan’get bred. Hurry~”

His headphones land somewhere with a thump as he pulls sweatshirt and shirt over his head in one go, then grabs himself through his jeans with a rumbled swear. You’ve soaked a wet patch through his jeans too. As soon as your skirt’s down the curve of your ass Ren’s already leaning into you, buries his face against your pretty, sloppy pussy and starts to lick and kiss, slurping as he tongue fucks your hole every few seconds.

When he locks lips around your clit you have to force your face down into the blankets to cry out, biting down on the blanket. Spit gets on your cheek when you cry out for him, and grind back against his face. Strong hands and long fingers hold your ass open until he can lick your pussy clean, before pulling back just to spit on it again. “Alpha, alpha, need your c-knot. Please.” You’re babbling to yourself more than to him, because he’s entranced with the way your sloppy pussy winks around nothing, how the slick mixes with his spit to drip down your folds. “Ren, your cock. Puh—lease!”

His long fingers land on your ass a few times, rings stinging upon impact, before he pushes your back down into an even more extreme arch and lets out another groan. “Prettiest Omega pussy I’ve ever seen, only one I want. Ain’t that right? You can act out and be a brat, but this is mine.” You look back over your shoulder just enough to watch him drool, slick down his chin when he pulls back and gives you a look.

Dark eyes almost entirely glossed over, he pinches your clit meanly- and your squeak makes the tiniest curl grace his lips. “Say it for me. Who does this little pussy belong to?”

”You.”

His thumb swipes over your clit before grinding down, two other fingertips pushing into you. “Mh. Who?” He’s mean, he’s so mean it’s making you tear up, forcing your head back into the blankets as your cunt tingles and aches and the touch is making you push back against him.

“You, Ren! It belongs to. My. Alpha. My- aaah-ah- Ren~, fucking please put it in. Ren, Ren please. It hurts.” Tears dampen the fabric, the two fingers sliding in halfway isn’t enough. You need- need more. “Please. Please.” He places another kiss on your clit before his touch vanishes, and you can hear the lewd sound of him licking his own fingers clean. You’re so hot sweat tickles on your hairline, the base of your neck.

And then, the click of his belt makes you moan, loud.

The familiar sound has you biting down on your hand, legs almost giving in. The smell of his musk is making it hard to stay upright. You can barely hear yourself think over the rushing blood between your ears, and the heartbeat thumping in your pussy. He groans, “Look at me. Look here,” and long fingers tangle in your hair to force you. Watch your boyfriend squeeze his pretty, extremely flushed cock a bit too tight. The head’s a blushy purple glossy with precum, that drips as he holds back a little pant.

”Wan’it?”

You don’t speak- can’t. Just back yourself up against him until the cock is rubbing against your ass and the warm pre gets all over you, as you moan. As you try to form a coherent thought, and Ren chuckles. “That’s a sweet way of sayin’ yes. Open your mouth.” He leans in while rubbing geedy circles over your ass, then lets a glob of spit land on your awaiting tongue with another huff. “So good for me.”

His hand spanks you again, hard enough to have you forced forward, before lining up properly. The wet sound of his cock patting on your pussy is the only for a moment, one that seem to last entirely too long— before finally, finally you feel the hot mushroom head push in. Into your slick, wet cunt and pushing past the ring of muscle inside and deeper. Deeper, deeper, until Kaji grunts low and gutturally and his thighs hit against yours as he bottoms out.

It feels so fucking right. Good, full, you want more, wan’ stay like this and your head’s spinning so good— Your breathing only continues when he groans a low ‘breathe’, pulling your hair and shaking your head. “Breathe, baby. Don’t pass out.” Your hands are fisted so tight into the blankets your knuckles show, only managing to lift your head enough to cry out a moan.

”Move, please. Please, move- ghhuh, fuck—ing God.” His hips move back with the squelch of your clamping pussy, then dives back in. The first pump is strained, the second is heaven. It’s only when he starts to move in you that you feel how full you are- how fucking deep he’s hitting inside you and rocking the bed with his weight. He’s moaning so pretty each time he bottoms out- fucking your walls open with each thrust. His balls his against you with a wet ‘pap’, and your tits feel too- too needy.

Your Alpha’s inside, finally, finally, you can’t hold the moaned whimpers. “Ah, agh, ahhRen, t-touch me more, please. Touch me.” You search for his hand that’s holding you down to drag it under your body, making him grunt— only breathing deeper when his nose nuzzles into your neck. Something’s ringing, but you don’t have the free thoughts to think about it.

He’s gonna make you cum. His one hand on your tits, other on your clit, he fucks you like he’s made to be there. Stretches your clenching walls around his curved shaft too perfectly- every thrust makes more slick drip out down your thighs. He feels so good. So- fucking- good. And his panting in your ear, low rumbled voice grating on your brain. He licks along your jaw to wipe some of the sweat, or tears, you can’t tell anymore. “Gonna fuck y’full, breed that stupid Omega pussy like a bunny.”

It just- feels- so so good. You’re gonna cum. You want him to get stuck in you and knock you up. There’s only his breathing and your banging heart, as his cock drives in and out and hits that perfect spot, made for you. His fingers swipe over your clit so good your eyes squeeze shut, and thighs clench. “‘S what you deserve, huh, yeah? You want that? Wan’ me to fuck my knot into you and pump you full of my pups?” You can’t help lock around him, hand digging into his arm. Your entire body stutters and goes white—

Shuddering around his cock as the coil inside you snaps. ”Alpha, R-ah, aghh- ahg, gon’- Mh-ugh Ren!” He drives in again and again and again until your toes stop curling and the desperate hold on his forearm loosens and- the ringing is back. “Mhm-Ren.”

He’s barely conscious as you feel his lashes flutter against your cheek, and he turns to the sound. “Fucking’—” He doesn’t pull out of you, but does reach for the phone just to groan loud, annoyed, clicks his tongue. When he picks up he puts his free hand over your mouth, but presses a kiss to your ear. “Fucking what?” He hisses into the device, rests his head against yours. Still feels good, he still- feels so good. You can’t help clenching around him and making him choke— before he continues. “Short. Enomoto, as short as you fucking can.”

”It’s Kuguri,” you hear him through the phone, “he’s alone, and I’m out of town, so is half of Bofurin. They— it’s bad, Ren. You need to come help.” You know he doesn’t mean to, but a desperate groan is forced out of his throat.

You can tell, it’s entirely instinct the way he desperately tries a little longer to rock himself into you, before letting out a sharp breath through his nose. “W- why is he alone— what are you talking about? What the fuck happened?”

“It’s Shishitoren! Don’t know. They’ve beat his face black and blue, I don’t know either! Hurry to the Ori.” Kaji’s body’s gone entirely tight. Enomoto just says a last, “Umemiya’s orders,” before ending the call, and Ren smashes his phone down into the pillows.

“Ren,” you pant desperately, you want more. “Nhg- Alpha, please, Ren.” You know, it’s not fair, but you’re so- hot. The sane thought that rings through your mind is just so quiet when compared to the budding flower that is your heat. You’re so empty. It’s not enough.

Your Alpha looks like he might burst.

“I- I can’t- fuck,” his hand moves from your mouth to push himself back against you, before he starts sliding out. You turn onto your back to look at him, watch his internal struggle as his thin brows dig such a deep frown it must hurt. Hurt bad— you sit up to grab his hand. You can finish him off! His steely eyes find yours as he clenches his teeth. “Don’t. You say that, I’ll stay and if I stay I won’t wan’ go ever. I don’t wanna go.”

It takes everything in you to keep your mouth shut against the Omega desperately mewling inside you— as a loud bang comes at the door. “Kaji!” It’s Umemiya. “I’m sorry, man. It’s an emergency!”

“Shit- fuck,” the blond grunts out, throws his head back, before grabbing his clothes from the floor. You can’t look or you’ll cry.

“I just heard- came to pick you up. We’re taking my car,” his superior calls through the door, oblivious. It hurts. It physically hurts to watch the way he puts his boxers back on over his incredibly hard cock, breathing deeply all the while. His cock is still so slick it creates a wet imprint through the fabric. “Kaji?”

You hate him a little right now. You hate them both, pushing your hand between your legs to clamp your too little fingers where something much better just filled it— The sound of his quick dressing makes you nauseous. The ache only worsens when your boyfriend sends you an awfully guilty look and wraps his hand around your ankle to squeeze, and you have to shut your eyes against the welling up of an onslaught of tears.

“Coming!” Ren snaps when the fists pound again, and he clicks his tongue.

You know, really, but can’t help but shudder as your fingers rub over your pussy and leave it so unsatisfied. So empty it makes you go cold. Kaji groans out under his breath and opens a new sucker. He leans in to place a kiss on your shin, clenches his eyes shut hard, desperate. “Be right back, baby.”

“Fucking- go, I can’t,” you squeak back, and also cry- there’s no way this is happening. Your skin feels like it’s being turned inside out when his touch leaves you, first slow and then all at once. “Ah-Quickly, Ren, it hurts so bad- hck- agh-ahhh.” You can just manage to clamp your free hand down into the blankets to keep yourself from sliding off the bed in pursuit of more— pushing the image out of your head until you feel the fade of his presence and your body burns.

It hurts so bad.

“You were in the middle of something? Oh. —Oh.”

You hear the latch of the door, but you can’t focus on it, only roll back over to bury your face into the sheets. “Mh-hck—mn hah-Alpha, Alpha, no no no don’t leave, don’t leave. It hurts, it hurts so bad, baby- come back. Come back please. Please, Ren, please, please. Pl- gh-please.” You’re calling your voice hoarse. Your lip is pulled between your teeth at the smell of Alpha all over you, and your whining, needy pussy slicks even more obnoxiously.

“Need t’ fucking leave. Now. I’m gonna -lose it.”

Kaji growls deep and loud, coming from deep in his chest in the other room; even more Alpha scent fills your lungs. Makes you burn from the tips of your ears to your toes, as every cell seems to submit. Another familiar, normally smooth, lithe voice is more raspy when it filters through the wall. “Right behind you, man. You hurry on— I’m just gonna-”

“Where’s Hiragi and the others?”

“I’m calling them now,” Umemiya agrees.

Everything makes your clit thump with blood, your tongue thick and wet licking your lips. The door slams and keys jingle in the lock, and you whine out like a dying welp. “No! Wait, Ren— Alpha, Alpha, please. Please, please I need- I need to- be full. I’m gonna die, hurts so bad.” You’re panting makes everything worse, unsteady, shaking with that horrible feeling of emptiness. “Aw, ah! Don’t leave.”

“Shhh, shh sh shh.”

You claw at the blankets. Alpha scent fills you, and your scenting goes crazy- spiking all over the room. Umemiya’s room. His face flicks through your head, you don’t know why. “Poor pet. Does it hurt that bad?”

You find yourself rubbing your cheek into the blankets up and down weekly, rolled onto your side. Fat tears roll out of your closed eyes. “Hurts. Hurts, please. Help me, I need it- wanna be full. Hck.” A finger drags along your sweaty hairline and makes you mewl, before it's taken away to be sucked clean.

“Fuck, poor, sweet girl. Smell so good in my bed. And you’re dripping sugar-” The hand comes to your neck, down your collar to your tits, and just the single flick of his finger over your perked, puffy nipple makes your pussy gush, mouth dropping open with moans. Drool drips out of your lips and someone wipes it away, as your eyes flutter against the miserable migraine you’re having. “Such a sweet, pretty little Omega. Little breeding bitch ready to get filled up?”

“Please, please, please!” You’re pushed over onto your back, and your legs drop open in response, back curling off the mattress to get a bit closer to the hand dragging down your belly to your leaking cunny. You’re so tired, your eyes won’t work. Someone hooks your leg around them, and two fingertips trace barely sensible over your folds. “Ah! Ah, ah, ah!”

“I know, I know it hurts. Just appreciating the view.” You wanna look. Your cunt aches like the worst cramps you’ve ever had. It takes everything not to start bawling. Luckily, he takes your hand in his and tangles fingers with yours, while the clicking of metal -a belt- and shuffling happens quick. “There we go, pretty baby. Open up, —daddy’s got you.”

“Ah, ah, quickly, hurry~”

It’s only when a warm palm comes to your cheek that you manage to finally force your eyes open, right when a hot, drooling cockhead pushes at your stretched entrance. Blue, gunmetal eyes stare back at yours as an unfamiliar feeling fills you up top to bottom. Your view is wobbly because of the tears, tongue trapped between your teeth. The face before you doesn’t make sense— not until the hand forces your face to his and a kiss is laid on you.

That taste. And he groans, low, rumbly. “Ohh, there- gh- we fucking go.”

An indescribable feeling of relief washes over you so strong that your legs clamp around him and shove him inside up to the hilt, as the coiled spring pulling in your cunt snaps, you claw at him and cry out. “Ume—miya! Ah, agh- Alpha, d-daddy, thank you, thank you, than-gh uhuhh~”

“Come on my -cock, that’s a good cockslut. Such a tight, little whore.”

Your orgasm barrels through you so hard that your feet cramp and you’re locked around him, moans getting swallowed by his tongue. Your vision goes blotchy and black, and the silver blond above you groans out your name as your pussy swallows him to his balls. “Ughd-daddy, more, more, more please! Please! Cum’ feelsso gud.”

“You’re so cute, so- fuck—ing cute.” He chuckles into a messy kiss, bites your lip for you until the tingling makes your legs shake. You can barely feel where you begin and he ends, with the way he’s gripping your thigh so thigh it’ll bruise, pulling you back against his thrusts. “Polite even when you’re cumming. D’ our little Kaji train you like that? Or is that just- for,” every word is accentuated by his cock hitting an entirely different spot, higher up in your belly, “me?”

You’re not sure you even stopped cumming before he starts rubbing your clit hard and fast, but before you know it you’re feeling an entirely different sensation— wetness squirting out around his cock in forceful gushes and getting all over his hands, his thighs and his bed. “Yeah, yeah yeah cum, just like that. So pretty.” Umemiya actually growls at the sight, slipping the wetness over your raw clit over and over and over. “Perfect little Omega whore— fuck.”

”Knew you’d take it if I offered. Isn’t that right, pet?” He yanks your leg up to put it around his bicep, and the thrusts get deeper and harder when he uses all his body weight to slam into you. The sound is filthy. It echoes the walls, and makes your pussy suction around him like you’re willing him to stay. You are, you want to be bred. You want-

“Daddy. Daddy, daddy, please. Want your cum. You need’t cum- hah- in me. Please, daddy. Please, fucking— I need-.”

He’s smiling so wide it looks a bit deranged. Every lewd pap makes you more mindless, and you’re not sure when you laced your hand in his, but they feel molten together. “What do you need, baby? Tell me.”

“K-knot, your knot, please. Breed me. I need to be fucked full.”

His laugh is high pitched, a slight bit hysterical before it dies out when staring deep into your eyes. “Does another Alpha’s cock feel that good inside you? Even better?” He’s sucking the taste of your boyfriend off your tongue, before fucking into your puffy, swollen folds with a satisfied hum. You’re floating, as his fingers dig into your tits. As your poor cunt is filled up, stretched in a completely different way.

He fucks in and out, in and out until he pulls out entirely, then forces the swollen head back in with a guttural grunt. “Good enough that you want to get fucked pregnant, fill you up with my kids? Yeah? You want your boyfriend’s bigger brother?”

”Yes, yes yes yes, please. Breed me full, Ume— Hajime! Hajime!”

He angles his hips a little to fold both your legs to your chest, baring teeth. It shifts his cock in you to the spongy spot in you like nothing else did, and has him moaning. “Oh, fuck, little girl. My cock’s reaching your womb, look— right here.” It makes him pant like a dog. Makes his eyes go wide, dipping his forehead to yours. He’s just so much bigger, so much stronger. Alpha in every sense.

“You know,” he chuckles, short before he hisses at the way your cunt squirms around him. “Since you’re Ren’s, you’re also sort of- my- hgh little sister too. Gonna let niichan fuck you ‘til you get bred?” You’re lost to the world as he bounces you up and down and your pussy spills over into the bed. Umemiya doesn’t care. The flush has crept up on his ears, his chest, he’s pink and sweaty to his fingertips and the way they dig into your skin. “Let it take, let it— that’s a good cheating, little cunt- so- pretty. Ask niichan to cum in you.”

“Cum, pl- pleas,” you slur against his mouth, let him get his face all up in yours. Let him nuzzle your cheek aside for purchase on your neck. “Niichan, niichan, nii-”

His cock pulses the last few sloppy thrusts, letting your cervix create a nice little seal around his cockhead— then he grunts. “Ah- that’s it, thatsit- fuck!” His sucking turns into teeth, and then a bite. One that has your entire body shivering, before your legs stretch out around his hips with another orgasm travelling through you. He swells inside you with a moan, and pushes you deep, even deeper onto him.

The weight of his pervic bone rubbing over your clit and his strong, muscular thighs pressing into your own is all you need to ride out another high ‘til you can’t see straight. It all has you wrapping your arms around him in an embrace that has your mouth open, panting and letting drool spill out.

The cum that hits is hot at first, rutting against you like you’re a fucktoy- but it doesn’t stop. There’s so much of it you try to shift, only to have Umemiya bite down harder on the juncture of you neck, until he breaks skin. “Stay,” he grunts, “take it a—ll. Let me fill you up.” Cum that makes you so hot inside, and squelches when he repositions to push more of himself inside, spilling out every which way. His cock is in until the thick base, and has swollen inside so wide you can’t even shift without it aching. “Ugh, so much cum inside that little body.”

Only after a couple minutes of staying that way, him growling into your skin when you try to escape, does he allow himself to pull back and watch the damage. His knot’s not deflated, but he still slowly starts moving out just to watch his cock flop out over your pussy and let the last squirts of hot cum spill over your clit. The ring of creamy white at the base of his cock and the mess he’s made of your raw pussy is nothing of proof like the bruised, mean bite right between your throat and your shoulder.

You’re too fucked out to notice. It’s cute. You’re cute all over. He squeezes his cock as he lets go of your legs and they stay that way, then laughs when trailing kisses down your thigh. “Kaji had a good thing going. I see why he went to bat over you.” Your eyelids flutter when he thumbs your pussy open, and buries his nose into it. His tongue delves into it just to lap up most of the extra cum, then leans over you to push your lips open. You just let him spill the mess of cum and spit and slick into your mouth, swallow it like a good little pet.

“And I don’t just mean your pussy either. I know you’re more than just that. If you weren’t, Togame wouldn’t bitch so much to see you again.” It makes him hum softly, and lay down beside you with a gentle motion to pull you in. Willing or not, you’re gonna snuggle into him a little longer. This is only the first of many days you two will spend like this. “We’re gonna have to make a visit to your old friends one of these days, ‘kay?”

He feels bad about the situation Kaji’s run into by now, beat hard enough to break a few ribs. It’s not enough to kill him, but Togame doesn’t know when to quit. Or rather, he quits only when he’s been told to quit. Your smell feels so nice wrapped around him, watching how you drift into a dreamless sleep with your cunt full of his cum. He could honestly go again, but maybe not right now.

“Niichan’s promised to make a diplomatic little gesture. You get it, right?”

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BLUE L0Ck ♡︎ 彼は進化している。

⚠︎ masterlist contains dark content ⚠︎

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.:♡︎

ITOSHI RIN

┌ “ ! ˓〃 two of cups | tw incest, love triangle (ft. sae) part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 complete

i. LETS GO TO SHIZUOKA!

miya atsumu x f!reader

── next: ii. Just me & you | series masterlist

synopsis: What better way to de-stress post-semester than going on a trip with your close friends? It’d be nothing but smooth sailing if you weren’t wedging some distance between you, and a certain blonde. Though, whether you liked it or not, the universe had its ways.

chapter content warning: college au, fluff, a hint of angst if you squint, atsumu might be a dumbass, mutual pining, requited unrequited love, forced proximity, slow burn, my poor depiction of japanese geography, reader can’t ride a bike for the sake of plot, not beta read, a little tame for now!

word count: 3.8k

notes: divider: cafekitsune. weeeee first chapter :> !!

‘You never really know when you’ve fallen in love. One day you just wake up and realise that it’s more than just shallow feelings.’

A phrase you’ve heard countless times growing up. You never really understood it well as a believer of love at first sight, thinking that the cliché ‘time slowing down as you see your lover before you’ was all there was to it to fully grasp the concept of love.

Kind of like in romantic movies where the camera dramatically pans around the main character after seeing their love interest—every person around you disappearing until all there was left were the two of you, heart racing a little too fast, the nervousness settling in—the whole shebang.

Unfortunately for you, it wasn’t as climactic as they ought to be in movies—not one soul magically disappeared until it was just the two of you, the time did not, in fact, slow down. If anything, your heart stuttered like crazy, threatening to leap from your rib cage and onto his hands as if they were its home. At least the movies got that one thing right.

It was down right frustrating leading up to the feelings you now had for none other than Miya Atsumu.

Some days were filled with fluttering heart beats, and dreamy sighs—tucking your chin on your palm at the blissful feeling of being infatuated with the blonde. As if on cloud nine, drifting along the feathery scenery atop a huge ivory cloud, cupid’s bow comfortably pierced right through your heart.

Other days were extremely unbearable, plagued with the ache of yearning, and unwanted jealousy—painfully digging your nails into your palm at the sight of someone else shamelessly flirting with Atsumu. It almost felt like a curse weighed upon you the day you were born, being smitten with a ladies’ man. On days like these, cupid’s bow uncomfortably dug into your heart like a painful itch—awkwardly poking out from your chest like an unconcealed badge saying, ‘Hey, look at me! I have a crush on someone who doesn’t even like me back. How stupid of me!’

Never mind that because the day it finally settled uncomfortably in your bones—that your feelings weren’t mere infatuation—you felt like you were in deep, deep shit. Absolutely fucked with a capital ‘F’ because suddenly the way Atsumu’s laugh sounded was like a sweet, sweet melody; an external stimuli to get your heart racing. The way his eyes crinkled, lashes kissing his cheeks as he laughed at a funny joke, oh, you were weak in the knees.

Your lovesick gaze unceremoniously bore into his handsome face, blissfully unaware of your raging feelings for him. You knew right then and there that love was what you felt for your close friend.

An uncharted territory that you swore to never step foot on, until now.

“You brought your passport?” Kita stared at the mini scarlet document resting between Atsumu’s slender fingers, brows raised with slight amusement. His expressionless question halted the quiet conversation amongst your group, all turning to look at the flustered blonde—his face now matching the colour of the passport in his hand.

“Y-yeah? Are we not supposed ta or somethin’?” Atsumu looked around at the growing amusement between his friends, except for Kita who only closed his eyes in defeat. The former looked over to you for help, honeyed eyes projecting a mix of slight panic and embarrassment, you could only look away in second hand embarrassment, cheeks heating from the eye contact.

“It’s a domestic flight, dumbass!” Osamu lightly smacked his twin on the back of his head, clicking his tongue at the lack of common sense. Before the two could even start their endless bickering, the line moved, signalling the group’s turn. Kita pulled the latter away with him to the check-in counter, saving everyone else’s ears being talked off with the twin’s petty arguments.

Winter break, a convenient time for you and your friends to get together and de-stress from the pressure of university. If anything, it was a purely spontaneous getaway trip to Shizuoka. The trip included a little pit stop to Tokyo for some much needed splurging—totally not your idea—before taking the train back down for Shizuoka.

It all started in the group chat with a lone screenshot from Suna, an on-going deal of inexpensive domestic flights from Hyōgo to Tokyo. There wasn’t even a message attached to the picture, just a wordless tactic in hopes to get the group together for an exciting winter ahead. First to see it was Atsumu, who immediately approved of the idea with an unnecessary amount of exclamation marks tied to his message. Then, it became a domino effect where the rest of the group voiced their interests, including yourself.

Next thing you knew, the five of you were holed up in the twin’s apartment—you and Kita sat on the chairs while the rest hovered behind, laptop on the table with a tab of the itinerary opened, and affordable accomodations in Shizuoka. With a quick transfer of funds from one bank account to another, you all looked forward to spending 4 days outside Hyōgo, 379 kilometres away from home.

Now, the five of you stood in the domestic terminal during the early hours of 7 AM, bound for Haneda Airport. Albeit, a bit sleepy, you were excited, deeming this trip as a little treat for making it through a rather tedious semester.

Sitting in between Suna and Kita, who respectively sat in the window and aisle seats, you took a moment to close your eyes as a muffled announcement from the pilot filled the speakers, the deep hum of the plane’s engines roaring as it moved up the runway, preparing for takeoff. Low murmurs of passengers, and the twin’s deep chatter behind you filled your ears like white noise, focusing on calming your racing heart.

You recounted a few minutes ago where Atsumu had opted to sit next to you, preferably on the window seat before Suna beat him to it, telling the latter that they had designated seats on their ticket, a teasing tongue poking out. ‘Like that matters.’ The blonde muttered, followed by a string of silent curses aimed at his friend before being ushered onto the next row behind by Osamu.

It was always like that with Atsumu and his spontaneity—he had no qualms sitting a row behind when you all had booked your tickets, even saying that he didn’t care wherever he sat as long as he landed in Tokyo in one piece. What drove him to change his mind was beyond your understanding.

Though, you’d be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t grasp onto that little hope of possibly sitting next to Atsumu for the whole flight. To your dismay, it dissipated the second you held onto it—all thanks to Suna Rintarou. Nonetheless, you would’ve felt awkward anyway, now that your heart weighed heavy with the burden of being hopelessly in love, and shamelessly pining.

You wouldn’t know how you would’ve acted during the span of 1 hour and 10 minutes; arms touching one another, albeit, covered in thick layers to fend off cold, and knees dangerously close—your cheeks heated at the thought. Sure, it was nothing intimate but that was Atsumu’s effect on you, and it absolutely drove you up the wall.

It wasn’t like this before, and you felt pathetic.

Gone were the days where you could hold a solid conversation with Atsumu without stuttering, and fidgeting like an idiot—where you were able to freely speak to him without any inhibitions weighing your shoulders. Come to think of it, the last time this probably happened was way back in second-year highschool. You were in second-year college now.

If you were being completely honest, you caught yourself unintentionally placing some distance between you and Atsumu, just a tad bit for the sake of your sanity. Could you really blame yourself? With the way he has been acting indifferent, it did some damage to your poor, poor heart—everyone had their limits and you were bound to reach yours soon enough. Especially with the coming days ahead, seeing him after you wake up, and before going to sleep. All in his glory.

Heavens above, have mercy on your heart.

Suna nudged you awake, head resting on his shoulder for the duration of the flight. You muttered a small apology as he let out a small groan, fingers digging into his padded jacket to massage the tense muscles of his shoulder. “We’re in Tokyo, sleepy head.” Atsumu prodded a finger at your head, poking his tongue out as you turned to face him, as if on cue, your heart beat picked up, only able to playfully roll your eyes in response.

Disembarking the plane, and claiming luggages proceeded without a hitch; thankfully, all your hard suitcases were still intact, and not shattered from the rough handling in the airport. After conveniently hailing a jumbo taxi, you were on your way to the heart of Tokyo. Naturally, Kita sat at the front passenger seat, having no trouble exchanging polite conversation with the driver. You and Osamu sat in the middle row while Atsumu and Suna were at the back.

You had to stop yourself from climbing to the back right after Atsumu did so, letting the brunette happily go instead, earning furrowed brows from the former—one that you tried your best to ignore.

The sound of wheels rolling along concrete filled your ears, along with the hustling and bustling of Central Tokyo as the group searched for the nearest luggage storage. A sea of bodies clad in layers of business casual outfits, men and women alike hastily walked to their destinations. The beloved city was adorned with Christmas lights and decorations, radiant hues of red, green, and gold standing out against the dark winter coats locals donned.

That was to be expected, the start of winter break being only a day after Christmas. It always cheered you up in every sense, seeing all sorts of novel decorations put your mind in a better place.

“Alright! Now that’s done, let’s get somethin’ ta eat.” Osamu locked the storage behind him, quickly tucking his hands back inside his trench coat, puffs of white fog leaving his lips with every word spoken. This earned a handful of hums from the rest, without a doubt there were no arguing when it came to eating food.

Atsumu fell into a step beside you, letting out an exaggerated noise as he shuddered from Tokyo’s early morning winter breeze.

“Hey. Seems like I haven’t talked ta ya in forever. Y’ avoidin’ me or somethin’?”

The blonde teased, all smiles with a tinge of crimson painted on his nose, and cheeks—from the cold, you presumed. The lack of seriousness in his tone put you at a slight ease, at least you didn’t have to start explaining why you were kind of avoiding him.

You shook your head, a genuine laugh leaving your lips as his honeyed eyes met your own, “Me? Never.” This earned a proud smile from your friend, chest puffing in absolute pride underneath the thick layers of winter fabrics.

“Good. I dunno what I’ll do if ya start avoidin’ me.”

His saccharine gaze lingered on your own a little too long for your sanity, all you could do was blink in response, mind flying off into the unknown as your heart picked up its pace yet again. Atsumu’s velvety stare was intense, it was like standing under the blazing sun on a scorching summer day, making you feel all sorts of emotions from A to Z.

Suddenly, the cerulean scarf around your neck felt a tad too restricting, the puffer jacket you wore became awfully warm, and the crisp morning air of Tokyo seemed too thin. Everything felt weird all of a sudden—your skin prickled under his honeyed eyes, getting lost in them as each slow second passed.

“Oi! Are you two coming or not?” Suna’s voice sharply sliced through the enchanting trance you and Atsumu were under, jolting you both back into reality. The rest of them were already far ahead looking into shops for a quick bite, indicating that somewhere down the line, the two of you had stopped walking just to stare into each other’s eyes. How embarrassing.

The latter cleared his throat, embarrassment settling in upon realising the situation at hand. He muttered a quick ‘Let’s go’ before starting a slow jog over to the rest of the group, acting like he didn’t just stare into your soul for god knows how many seconds. Slapping your cheeks, and letting out a puff of breath, you headed towards your friends, navigating through the crowded footpath and making sure not to accidentally bump into anyone.

The next few hours consisted of wisely spending money—per Kita’s words—in the heart of Tokyo. Despite endlessly complaining at first, the twins and Suna were soon sucked into the shopping fever.

Though, the four of you had to worry about your luggages back at the storage, resulting in only buying items that you desperately wanted, and essentials. This unfortunately led to almost being late to the scheduled Shinkansen you all had previously booked, the only option was to quickly run back to the luggage storage, and up the train station just in time before the train departed.

Everyone did their best to keep their heavy breathing in check, trying not to come off as rude to other passengers as well as saving yourselves from the embarrassment of unsolicited stares. You relaxed on the azure seat beneath, situated between the window and Kita—who sat in between you and Atsumu, the other two were on the next row over.

Your gaze turned to the large window beside you, overlooking the opposing platform as the engine of the Shinkansen quietly whirred, signalling the impending departure. Due to the non-rush hour at the quiet time of 1:57 PM, it wasn’t packed at all, only a few commuters coming in and out of the station to get on with their day-to-day routine.

As the Shinkansen slowly advanced to full speed, the outside view quickly turned into a mix of blurred hues; tall buildings decorating Central Tokyo gradually turned into greenery and suburban areas.

The afternoon sun peeked from the winter ivory clouds, seeping into the window to cast a radiant, warm glow upon the three of you. A subtle reflection of Atsumu’s peaceful profile projected on the glassy panel, allowing you to carefully trace each and every detail of his handsome features—the slope of his nose, flaxen strands framing his face, and those rosy pink lips you’ve always longed to touch with your own.

Tucking your chin atop a palm, you shamelessly stared at your friend’s reflection through the window—you watched as his honeyed eyes focused on the scenery before him, angling his head your way to get a good look of the view. Atsumu’s lips ever so slightly pursed with pure fascination, his Adam's apple bobbing with awe, you presumed with the speed of the Shinkansen.

Oh, how wrong you were.

“Staring a little hard, aren’t we?”

You were met with Kita’s warm gaze as you whipped your head around, albeit, rather quickly as if caught doing something you shouldn’t be. His stare held a hint of mischief—something that rarely ever occurred which caused your cheeks to shamelessly heat up. The man wasn’t even fully teasing you or anything—not that he normally did so—but it roused quite a reaction from you: fidgeting at the hem of your jacket, gaze avoiding Kita’s expectant ones, the slight part of your lips, not to mention the small stutter your heart did but you weren’t going to let him know.

Absolutely not.

On the other hand, Atsumu stared out the same window, albeit, not directly at the view outside but rather at the reflection of your side profile on the glassy panel as you animatedly explained yourself to Kita. He couldn’t hear what the two of you were talking about as he resorted to using earbuds a few moments ago, blocking out the white noise.

Atsumu let out a small chuckle—one that was drowned by the hum of the Shinkansen—as he admired you from the window, a subtle smile involuntarily forming at the look of your flustered state. How adorable. Naturally, his eyes drifted down to your plush lips as it moved with every spoken word; Atsumu could only fantasise the feeling of it against his own.

The blonde swiped his tongue across his bottom lip before letting out a small huff, and closing his eyes shut—stubbornly depriving himself of your beauty.

More than a few times in the past, Atsumu has caught himself shamelessly wandering along the borders of ‘friends’ and ‘lovers’, brazenly walking along the fine line that split the two territories—as a matter of fact, in his eyes, the line was so damn thin that it almost appeared blurry. Dangerously blurry. But Atsumu was a thrill seeker, and would be lying to himself if he said he didn’t want to venture out into the uncharted territory called ‘lovers’.

For as long as he could remember, Atsumu has been patiently sitting by this uncharted territory—endlessly waiting for the day where he’d finally be able to cross that line without any hesitation in his bones. It was delusional of him, really, because at the very back of his mind—carefully tucked and hidden—Atsumu knew he probably didn’t stand a chance. That one day, he’d helplessly watch another man effortlessly cross the line.

He could only hope that was him.

Fortunately, the rest of the train ride was peaceful until Mount Fuji came into view from the distance; the stratovolcano proudly stood in all its icy glory, looking over Shizuoka and Yamanashi—its snow-capped tip slightly peeking from a blanket of clouds. The five of you didn’t hesitate to pull out your phones to start taking photos of the famed mountain, all amazed by its conical form.

After a few more clicks of the symbolic Fujisan, with selfies here and there, the train finally arrived in Shizuoka Station—greeted by the city’s skyline surrounded by impressive sights of nature. Hauling your respective mini luggages, and shopping bags from Tokyo, the five of you, surprisingly, made it to the hotel—located in the heart of Shizuoka—only a stone’s throw from the train station.

Greeted with a homey view, the hotel’s vast foyer was warmly lit, decorated with artificial plants here and there along with lots of comfortable spaces to sit on. Faint jazz music filled the rather deserted place, footsteps along its marbled ivory floors echoing loudly. Kita, and Osamu made their way to the counter—the latter only trailing behind to inquire about amenities—whereas Suna beelined for the nearest toilet, leaving you and Atsumu on luggage duty.

Great.

The blonde unceremoniously plopped down next to you, cream-coloured couch groaning beneath his weight as he yawned, pairing it with a full body stretch. How cute. It reminded you of a cat stretching right after waking up, face scrunched and all. Atsumu sat way too close for your liking, the heat of his right side spilling onto your left—it wasn’t even a comfortable kind of warmth, no, it mirrored the intensity of a hot, sunny day. Despite the lack of skin contact, his touch lit your body with a searing blaze. You scratched at your neck, the familiar prickling sensation coming back for the nth time.

It was awfully quiet, the crisp winter air turning thick, and awkward as each slow second passed. All of a sudden, the wooden coffee table before you looked rather interesting, eyes tracing its natural surface pattern. It didn’t look this cool a few seconds ago. The faint jazz music still played from the hotel speakers, a mocking symbol of the lack of conversation between you and Atsumu.

The latter awkwardly cleared his throat, hand coming up to rub at his nape—a nervous habit he’s picked up, and you knew that too. He turned his mind upside down, and inside out to think of anything just to clear the somewhat awkward air between the two of you but his thoughts fell short. For the first time in a while, Atsumu was rendered speechless. When did it get like this?

“We should do a bike tour. I saw an ad for one outside just before we came in.”

Suna strode over to the two of you, hands snug inside his pockets. What a life saver. “I think it's like a 3-hour tour, though.” He muttered before pulling his phone out, mindlessly scrolling on it.

“Won’t it be snowy?” Osamu replied from behind, Kita trailing closely, room keys and a pamphlet in hand. “Shizuoka has very little snowfall. I think we’ll be fine.” The ivory-haired male interjected, earning a hum from Suna. Before the group could further discuss today’s plans, you spoke up,

“I can’t even ride a bike.”

“Ditto.” Atsumu groaned.

“Well. Technically, I can. Jus’ a bad experience from childhood. Haven’t gotten on one since then and not about ta start now.” The male beside you shrugged whereas his twin chuckled at the recollection. Must’ve been quite a memory for the two, you presumed.

You shook your head, reassuring the group, “Don’t mind me. I can rest up a bit while you all go out.” It wasn’t much of a big deal, anyway. Plus, a good 3-hour nap sounded like absolute heaven to you right now, especially after waking up early this morning. It was only the first day of the trip, and there were more planned activities ahead with the group so you didn’t mind.

The door to the hotel room opened up to a cosy, expansive suite inspired by traditional tearoom elements in Japanese-style—gasping at the intricate vases and traditional scrolls that decorated the room. The suite included two Tatami rooms—excluding the small kitchen, and living room—adorned with cosy futons. Overlooking the vast city of Shizuoka, it gave a sense of luxury amongst the homey vibes of the room.

A few shuffling here, and there, the group agreed to part ways for a bit, and reconvene for dinner—Suna, Kita, and Osamu headed for the bike tour whereas you and Atsumu stayed behind for a much needed peaceful rest.

If peaceful was even the word to describe it.

“We’ll see ya at dinner. Have fun.” Osamu shot his brother a look, one that made you stop in your tracks. A subtle smirk plastered all over the former’s face which looked just like the usual expression Atsumu always wore, it didn’t help how Osamu looked exactly like him.

What the hell?

A resounding thud reverberated throughout the walls as the door shut behind the silver-haired male. There was a slight pause, a heartbeat of silence before Atsumu turned to you, hands on his hips, mirroring the smirk his brother gave just a few seconds ago. You gulped, meeting his honeyed gaze.

“Looks like it’s just me and ya with three hours ta spare, huh?”

Three hours with Miya Atsumu. Alone. How convenient.

—

taglist (open)

tags: @ushijimaschubbs @tsumudoll @starlitsawamura @littlemiyastars (kind reminder to turn your mentions on!)

© atsumou 2024 | don’t plagiarise, repost or steal my gif

HELP ME FIND A WAY TO BREATHE | M. FUSHIGURO

♡ tags ; afab + fem!reader, aged-up characters (20s), mutual pining, friends to lovers, canon-typical violence, canon divergent, sex pollen, dubious consent (they are both very enthusiastic to fuck but it is still sex pollen), brief one bed trope lol, light femdom, praise kink, penetration, unprotected sex / creampies, making out, not beta'd we die like [REDACTED MANGA SPOILERS] 18+

♡ wc ; 14.1k (???)

♡ a/n ; hello! happy june, and welcome to my first of three installments part of my @ficsforgaza intiative. please go check them out and join us in fundraising for the people of palestine.

no other really notes on this one other than it's egregiously horny and even more sappy. a super lovey-dovey pining fic. title from sleep walking by bmth

♡ synopsis ; megumi has loved you for as long as he's known you and then some - which is why he avoids going on overnight missions with you at all cost. he's going to kill gojo-sensei when he gets back.

“You should be more firm with Gojo-sensei about stuff like this,” Megumi leans back, eye twitching as he voices his complaints. “You know he always puts it on you because you won’t say no.”  

You’re sitting next to Megumi reclined in your seat. He doesn’t even have to turn his head to know what face you’re making - a forgiving smile, your eyes crinkled at the corner as you shrug unbothered.  

“It’s fine with me,” You turn your head to look at him a little better, pulling your eyes way from the window. “Just how it goes sometimes, you know? Plus, Sensei was nice enough to upgrade us and sending us on these expensive seats. When else are you gonna ride in one of these?”  

Your smile reaches your eyes, light filtering through the windows in quick motion bursts as you speed along the rails. Megumi knew that’s what you were going to say. He shakes his head.  

“Don’t make excuses for him,”  

“Don’t be so prickly,” You reprimand, a long sigh leaving your lips. You reach across the armrest and pat Megumi’s shoulder “If we finish up early, we should go sight-seeing. There’s lots of temples in Sendai I’ve never seen before.”  

Megumi doesn’t say anything to that. You haven’t moved your hand from his shoulder either. The touch is subconscious and friendly - and makes Megumi want to light himself on fire. He’s almost sure this is one of Gojo’s famous schemes, since there’s little to no reason he couldn’t handle a request like this one by himself. Or at least, Megumi could’ve gone alone and prevented himself from being alone with you on a trip for several consecutive days.  

(He’s got a special talent for avoiding this exact thing - always planning ahead and switching things around so this kind of incident never occurs. He’s had a ninety-nine percent success rate. Without Gojo’s meddling, it’d probably be one-hundred) 

There’s not a lot of information about the mission at present. The case files were barely filled out when he got them - only three papers tucked away neatly in a manila folder. On those pages are a few reports of cursed energy in the area and a map - outlining the general perimeter. From what intel the two of you do have, the concentration of said cursed energy in an abandoned commune. Megumi thinks it spells trouble, but some part of him is holding onto hope that it’s an easy to deal with curse. Something quick - so the two of you can be back on the next train ride to Tokyo.  

Pitiful yearning fills him when your hands float away from his shoulder and settle back into your lap. You’re lost in your own thoughts, eyes lidded as you stare outside of the window. He doubts you got much sleep last night. You always stay up before long trips. He sighs a little.  

“We’ve still got,” He checks his watch. “At least another hour and fifty minutes. Now’d be the time to get some rest.”  

You startle at the sound of his voice, a yawn escaping you. “No,” You whine, lips formed into a soft pout that makes the corners of Megumi’s lips twitch. “Won’t you be lonely without my company, Megumi-kun?”  

He gives you a long suffering sigh. “No. I have a lot to read. Get some sleep.”  

Your frown deepens but Megumi doesn’t budge. The both of you make prolonged eye-contact until you final give in after another yawn interrupts your protesting. Your eyes are barely open as is. How stubborn of you.  

“Wake me up like fifteen minutes before we’re there, please?” You relent.  

Megumi just nods. You smile at him and his heart beats loudly at the sight as you close your eyes and succumb to exhaustion. He starts scrolling on his phone, opening his library app to read when your head falls onto his shoulder. He goes stone stiff - body locking up and blood pressure sky-rocketing before he regains control of his senses and loosens his muscles so you don’t end up waking. He leans his head back against the cushion of the seat and takes a deep breath.  

His phone buzzes in his hand, mood dropping as soon as he sees who it’s from.  

don’t respond: my dearest megumi-chan ! have the two of you arrived safely? 

Megumi thinks about not responding, quickly reminded of the fact Gojo-sensei would not only keep texting him but abuse the ‘Notify Anyway’ option given half the chance. Ignoring the oncoming migraine, he types back carefully in order to leave you undisturbed.  

(sent 6:58pm) we’re on the train now.  

The reply is instant.  

don’t respond: oh my… how late. was there a delay.  

(sent 6:58 pm) yeah.  

don’t respond: tsk…why pay all that money for the good seats if this was the outcome... 

don’t respond: well. nothing you can do now. get a hotel in Sendai and check out the location during the day. 

Megumi squints at his phone, scowl forming instantly.  

(sent 7:02) a hotel?? what for??  

don’t respond: megumi-chan… i raised you better than this. you are going to let a beautiful young maiden walk around the dark unknown at night?  

He makes a face of disgust at the phrase. Not that Megumi thinks you aren’t beautiful, but hearing the sentiment from Gojo-sensei’s mouth is truly nauseating.  

(sent 7:02) … we’ll get the hotel. 

don’t respond: wonderful ! and if i may offer you some advice my dear boy  

(sent 7:03) please don’t.  

don’t respond: do not miss your chance ! this beautiful gift your sensei has bestowed upon you to make progress in your youthful love 

Megumi scowls. He knew that was it.  

(sent 7:04): You disliked “do not miss your chance ! this…”  

dont respond: [IMG ATTACHMENT]  

Megumi stares at the attached meme (a dog gyaru posing) with a grimace - no doubt borrowed from Itadori or Kugisaki. He frowns, disliking that one too before putting the messages between them on mute and opening the app to read his book. He’s been reading a lot of his usual nonfiction. Lately it’s an autobiography of a famous Japanese author - Soseki, the father of all modern novels. He’s gotten farther into it than he thought he would since he’s only had it for a few days. The writing is engaging.  

He bought it per your recommendation too, so he wants to finish it. The sudden memory of that makes Megumi blush again, his skin prickling under the fabric of his uniform. 

 You’re still sound asleep beside him, your breathing even and steady. If he focuses, he can see you clearly from the corner of his eyes. The soft plumpness in your lips, and each of your lashes sitting against your cheek. 

He keeps focused on reading, though - and prays that the train ride goes a little faster.  

__ 

“Hey,” His arm feels stiff as he moves it away from you gentle, making sure to keep your head upright and steady on the seats headrest as he wakes you from your sleep. “We’re almost here.”  

He sees your eyes stir behind your lids, nose crinkling as you regain consciousness. He’s grateful you can’t see him smile at you as you wake up. Quickly getting his face back to it’s baseline neutral, he waits for you to wake up as you pull away from him and sit up. You let out a long yawn, rubbing underneath your eye as to not smudge your makeup. Blinking the sleep away from your vision, you finally open your eyes. Megumi watches on in silence, trying not to look too endeared.  

“Good morning,” You say as a half joke. Megumi doesn’t bother hiding his laugh. 

“Morning.”  

You smile at him, pleased by his response. You pat around your body looking for your phone, visibly relieved when you find it. Megumi continues watching you as you pull it up, resting your hands on the pull-out table in front of you. You chuckle at your screen. Megumi raises his eyebrow in interest.  

“Did you talk to Gojo-sensei?”  

He nods. “Couple of hours ago. Why?” 

Instead of replying, you pull your notification center down and show Megumi the barrage of texts sent two hours-ish prior. Your phone must’ve been on DND while you were asleep since Megumi hadn’t heard them either. There’s at least ten messages. Megumi scowls in displeasure, and you break out into a terribly lovely laugh seeing it.  

“See what I mean? If you give sensei an inch, he’ll take a mile. Why is he texting you this student this much?” 

You can’t suppress your giggles. “Don’t be so hard on him. He’s a little lonely now that you’re old enough to do things by yourself - that’s all.”  

“Then he should bother me instead of you,” Megumi grumbles. Your smile doesn’t fade.  

“He texted you afterwards, so I guess it’s a start.”  

“Stop being so nice to him.”  

You laugh again. Megumi tries not to smile and ultimately succeeds.  

You study him for a brief moment before reclining a bit.   

“Guess I’ll have to be extra nice to you, then.”  

A blush crawls up the back of his neck almost instantly. Your grin has a crooked edge, a touch of mirth and amusement that makes Megumi want to crawl into somewhere dark and disappear. Warmth and restless makes home in his ribcage, your perception endlessly tormenting. You don’t tease him more than that, allowing Megumi catch his breath.  

“I don’t even know how that’d be possible.”  

“Really?” You say without missing a beat, not even looking at him as you gather up your things. “I can think of plenty of ways to be even sweeter to Megumi-kun, though?”  

He can feel the blush deepen. His cheeks are undeniably crimson by now, he’s sure - and he can barely stand the soft quality in your voice long enough to breathe. You’re still calm, the words genuine but undeniably tilted along the axis of teasing. If Megumi were any less stubborn, he might even beg you for mercy. He is, of course, incredibly bull-headed and refuses to do so. He huffs a little instead. 

“You make it sound like there’s some quota for it.” He says, kind of lamely. Your eyes flutter, something passing in your gaze - gone before Megumi can get hold of it and know what it is. You make an impassive noise, but don’t say anything in reply. Your non-answer makes him think that you might really have one. He tries not to blush any more than he is now and shakes the thought off.  

“You all ready to go?” You ask finally. He lets out a sigh of relief.  

“Yeah. Should be.” Megumi replies, looking down at his phone for the time. It’ll be closer to 9:30 by the time you get out of the station. “Dunno if you read Sensei’s messages but he told us to stay the night at a hotel first since it’s already this late and it’s nothing urgent.”  

Your brows raise in surprise before you nod. “That’s probably smart. As much I’d love to be done sooner, probably not the best idea to go lurking around in the night. We’ll do that, then.” 

“I’ll start looking at hotels,” Megumi adds.  

“Thanks for being so helpful, Megumi-kun.”  

He rolls his eyes. “Uh-huh. You’re welcome.”  

__  

“This is…really the only place with available rooming for tonight?”  

Megumi looks at you with an absent grimace, affirming you with a curt nod. You glance at each other, sharing mutual disbelief and basking in the solidarity of your absurd situation for a bit. A long silence stretches over you both, a weighted quiet that makes Megumi wish a giant curse would literally swallow him into the ground.  

He wishes he had some explanation for this. His name meaning blessing feels like a spit in the face given how deeply unlucky everything about this mission has been so far. 

Of all the hotels in Sendai, the only one within reasonable distance of your mission site that is accepting last minute is a love hotel. A love hotel is something of a non-issue. It’s a tourist misconception to view them as kinky paradises. More modern love hotels are usually just short stays - last minute bookings with cheap prices and always adult. The full blown kinky stuff tends to stay in the several entertainment districts scattered across Japanese metropolitans.  

It’d be nice if that was the case here, but based on various reviews and the neon flashing blue sign at the top of the building - this is definitely the kind of love hotel for couples. The kind used for sex. It’s the only one in proximity accepting last minute bookings, and the only hotel for miles. Megumi lets out a long suffering sigh. He can see you smiling sympathetically from the corner of his eye.  He pinches the bridge of his nose as a new wave of regret settles in his bones.  

“I’m sorry,” Megumi says, unsure of what else to say. He is truly and deeply sorry for the level of misfortune he seems to have around you. You shake your head in reply, shrugging.  

“Let’s make the best of it,” You respond, pausing before going on. “Sensei is going to be really annoying about seeing this charge on his card, huh?”  

Megumi must look as distraught as he feels because you laugh immediately at his expression. You squeeze his shoulder sympathetically, though you clearly find it funny. “Sorry, sorry. It’ll be fine. Maybe he won’t notice.”  

 Gojo-sensei tends to keep tabs whenever people are away on missions. It’s a common precaution for sorcerers, and when more experienced sorcerers relegate their own work - they are solely responsible for that task. Megumi can only hope he’s too busy to keep watch on it for the night. Realistically though, it means Sensei will definitely see.  

Megumi decides to overlook this information as best he can. At least for now. 

You trek into the hotel with your away bag, Megumi in-step behind you with his head hung low. 

It sounds corny to him retroactively (he can’t help but cringe when he says it aloud), but Megumi had foolishly hoped he could be somewhat useful to you in this mission. Every fight the two of you have been in together, you’ve saved Megumi’s skin at least once. He’s incredibly aware of the increasing debt between you. Thank you’s and paid dinners stopped being enough a long time ago. He wasn’t…hoping to be a knight in shining armor or anything like that - but he really wanted to do more this time since you’re already going together.  

You probably understood that talking to the front desk in these conditions would give him a hernia and took the responsibility on without complain. You make these acts of consideration look easy and natural - smooth like the flow of water. Megumi has yet to learn how to swim against the tide instead of getting swept up in its motion.  

Despite Megumi’s countless attempts at repaying your kindness, he’s never been able break even. He reflects on this as you speak to the woman at the front desk.  

The lobby of Hotel:SAPPHIRE is exactly what someone might expect from an actual love hotel. The lights are dim even up front and there’s a lot of glittery, mildly gaudy decor. Aside from the front desk, the first floor hosts some kind of amenities store and a lounge or bar.  

 Megumi’s awareness of his surroundings is making his blush worse. He’s not concerned by being seen in a love hotel, as much as he’s hung up on the idea that people are assuming you’re both a couple. Rationally, he knows that means nothing. You’re two people of the opposing gender and similar age - of course people would think that.  

Still, it makes him so…ugh…shy, he could genuinely die of misery.  

He tries his best to zone out, but ultimately can’t. He tunes in to listens to you talk to the woman at the front desk instead.  

“There’s probably no double beds here, huh?” You ask. The woman at the front desk gives you a confused look of both sympathy and apology. You shake your head with a pleasant smile.  

“Yeah. I thought so. What’s the nicest room you have?”  

“We have a queen room, with a queen bed, couch and a jacuzzi. It has one of our more spacious bathrooms as well.”  

Megumi closes his eyes. Your reply is chipper. “Sure! We’ll take that one.”  

“And how long will you be staying?”  

“About five days?”  

His eyes snap open. Megumi gives you an incredulous look from where he’s standing. You turn back with a small smile as if having predicted it and then shrug again.  

“I still wanna go sightseeing.”  

He can’t say anything to refute you in the moment, despite how much he’d like to push back on the idea. You’re definitely enjoying yourself, at least. Maybe he should’ve expected that. You’re not exactly the type to get easily embarrassed. Even getting the words of complaint out feel too humiliating given the context. He sighs.  

“Whatever,”  

The woman at the front desk, increasingly baffled by the nature of your relationship, puts you down for five days before handing you two room cards.  

She briefly explains some of the perks, and gently points you to the small store which freely offers things like lube, condoms, scented lotions and oils, and bath products. It’d be great if some meteor hit Earth right now and killed him (and only him) instantly. You give her your kindest thanks and take the two room cards, turning around to pass one over to Megumi. He gives you a long look. You reply with two thumbs up and goofy grin.  

“Let’s go to the little store place!”  

“Why the hell would you want to do that” Megumi hisses, blushing profusely. You are predictably nonplussed by his reaction.  

“I want to see the scented lotions. A souvenir. If you will.” 

It’s truly imperative to to him in that moment he remembers how often you’ve saved him from mortal peril. He relents easily after that, trailing along behind you.  

It’s less of a store and more of a display case of possible lewd items on four sides of a centered wall, with just enough space to walk around. Megumi stonewalls as soon as the two of you are within five feet of it. You take your time looking through the different thing and snickering at the display case.  

At one point, you tug Megumi’s sleeve and snap him out of his trance. He begrudgingly follows your gaze, eyes widening at the display case of condoms. There are so many condoms. He didn’t even know they made that many kinds.  

“Maybe we should bring one? You know, just in case.” You do a stupid wiggle with your eyebrows. Megumi is painfully aware it’s just jokes, closing his eyes with a deep sigh, elbowing you lightly.  

“Fuck off.” 

Your voice is sing-songy as you continue your tirade.  

“You never know, Megumi! What if end up in a condom emergency trying to fight curses?”  

“Please shut up.”  

Your laughter sounds again behind your closed fist, but you’re merciful and turn the corner to look at everything else.  

You indeed pick up two scented lotions and a bath bomb before you finally agree to retire to the room.  

__  

Megumi is rendered speechless when you finally unlock the door to your room.  

He isn’t sure why. He should’ve expected much worse.  

The room is big as promised. Probably three times the size of his own dorm at Jujutsu Tech. There’s one bed in the middle (certainly king-sized, not queen) - with a couch and glass table adjacent to it along the back wall. The couch is upholstered with a creaky, gold fabric and the walls are painted mostly white with the exception of one wall being painted sapphire blue, decorated with a rose mural. The throw pillows and complimentary blanket share a familiar loud pattern, incorporating all three colors and stitched with gold threads.  

There’s rose petals everywhere. On the bed, floor, and the table. The glass table accompanying the couch even has two champagne flutes and complimentary bottle to go along with it. There’s a present box on the bed, wrapped in shiny white wrapping paper and a sickly sweet, red bow.  

Megumi doesn’t want to know what’s inside.  

You shut the door behind him after dragging in the rest of your luggage.  

The two of you take in the view together for a minute before Megumi hears you break out into a long fit of laughter, making him jolt. He looks over at where you’ve dropped down into a squat, giggling hysterically beside him. He feels suddenly winded from the days events as you break the tension.  

After you gather yourself you stand to your feet and look at him warmly, wiping tears from the corners of your eyes. Megumi wishes he could take it as easy as you.  

“Ahh…hehehe..” You put a hand over your mouth trying to suppress the sound as you turn away. “Okay, sorry. Uhm. Hah. Do you want to shower first or should I?”  

Megumi responds reflexively. “You can shower first.”  

You nod, yawning as you stretch your arms up. He forces himself not to look at the way your shirt rides up over your stomach. Patting his shoulder after collecting yourself, you shoot him a tired but reassuring smile. At least he knows you’re both exhausted.  

“Thanks, Megumi-kun. Do me a favor and order room service, please? I’m starving.”  

He nods. “Do you want to look at the menu?”  

You wave your hand dismissively, taking your bag and turning to the bathroom. “I trust you know me well enough to know what I want.”  

The instant preening internally makes Megumi want to crawl in a hole. He’s glad you can’t see him.  

“Yeah. Go shower, already.”  

“Mm,” You make a noise as you stretch. “Will do.”  

__  

The room is unnaturally dim.  

There’s a movie playing in the background as both you and Megumi sit on the bed. You’re doing some work on your laptop - typing in short bursts every few minutes. Megumi has no idea what you’re working on. You’re oddly meticulous with paper work but aside from the disaster of finding room and board - there isn’t anything to report on.  

Whatever it is though, you’ve been working on since you finished dinner an hour ago - nursing your beer while typing away.  

Megumi glances at you from the corner of his eyes, heart unfairly racing at the lack of distance between you. He really should be past this. Your skin is damp from the shower and you smell like the scented lotion from earlier which makes him feel weird and warm. He decided to drink with you, but his tolerance is much worse than yours so he feels a little tipsy. He isn’t sure if that’s better or worse. Dealing with everything sober hasn’t been very fun.  

He’s staring at you openly but you’re too preoccupied to take notice. He’s kind of grateful. His fingers tap the sides of his can as his eyes flits up to the cheap action movie playing on the TV.  

After a little longr, you stretch your arms over your head and shut your laptop. 

“All done with your work?”  

You blink rapidly, momentarily taken aback before smiling. “Yeah. Finally.”  

“What were you actually doing?” 

“Started on the report and then dug around some old archives for information on the commune.”  

“Did you find anything?”  

You laugh humorlessly. “More or less? But nothing we couldn’t have figured out on our own. The commune was more like a curse cult but it ran functionally for almost ten years. They did some type of curse breeding.”  

“Curse… breeding? As in like…?” Megumi asks, making a face.  

“It’s what it sounds like? I think. There’s not really any more information. The uploaded documents were barely legible. How it works, why they did it, and if it was effective - we have no information on that. Just that there was some powerful curses in the area in the late nineties.”  

“In the nineties? So it’s been what, decades since any activity? Why now?”  

You shrug. “Best guess is that the sudden uptick in tourism caused it. You know, Sensei had some business in Sendai a few years back. It was right before Itadori-kun got hold of Sukuna I think. It’s not impossible for all of it to be connected.”  

Megumi sighs. “Don’t know if that makes it better or worse.”  

“I want to look into Gojo-sensei’s case right now but,” A yawn interrupts your train of thought. “We’ll need to be up and at ‘em early tomorrow.”  

“Right,” He says, immediately preparing to sleep on couch and praying you won’t notice. “Goodnight, then -“  

His plans are foiled fast of course. Before he can get up, you tug at the sleeve of his robe. Your face is flush from beer and sleep. You’re so effortlessly alluring to his brain he’s irritated. The motion picture casts a soft glow on your features, picturesque in how pretty you seem to be with no effort.  

“Where are you going?”  

“To sleep on the couch.”  

“I can’t let you do that,” You shake your head. Megumi says nothing. “I’ll take the couch.”  

He purses his lips. “Did you think I was gonna say yes to that?”  

You press your lips into a flat line. “No…not really. But.. I can’t let you sleep on the couch. It’ll be a long day and you need rest,” You smile at him sleepily “I don’t mind sharing the bed.”  

“Absolutely not,” He replies instantly. You pout at him. Damn it. 

“Megumi-kun, please? We can just put one of the pillows between us.”  

Megumi stares at you with a hardened brow. He knows from experience that a pillow would barely resolve the issue. A lesson he learned at fifteen where a similar incident had you both sleeping in the same tent.  

You move in your sleep. A lot. As a result, fifteen year old Megumi spent an entire night with you, paralyzed by the lack of distance and missing an entire night of sleep. Every muscle in his body in his body had set rigid like early onset rigor mortis from stress that night.  

He barely slept. Worse, the next morning Sensei had practically harassed him about his disheveled state. Megumi couldn’t look you in the eye for the rest of the mission, though he got over it eventually. Only because you seemed very troubled when he didn’t talk to you.  

You’re making a similarly distressed expression now at the thought of making Megumi sleep on the couch. He winces, swayed with embarrassing ease. The feeling fades after he sees how brightly you smile.  

“Thank you,”  

He wants to ask why you’re thanking him, but doesn’t know if he can handle hearing the answer so he says nothing. You turn the TV off and finish your beer and toss the can before returning to bed and undoing the covers. Megumi sits on the edge, watching as you rearrange the various pillows. You place a body pillow in between the both of you and fluff up another pillow to give to Megumi. You smile as you hand it to him, and he takes it with a soft blush.  

He reminds you to go brush your teeth and watches you pad off to go do it, sighing and trying to meditate before it’s his turn to do the same. The alcohol is wearing off quicker than he hoped.  

The room is nearly pitch black except for a single dim light when Megumi comes back from the bathroom. You’re already in bed, and you smile when Megumi emerges with a stupidly cute giggle following. He’ll never get used to you, he’s sure.  

Megumi craws into bed beside you. The bed is wide and spacious - and there’s plenty of room seperating you. He isn’t any less self-conscious of the fact he’s still sleeping in a bed next to you though, for better for worse.  

“Night, Megumi.” You mumble, barely awake. You’ll fall asleep fast. Megumi reaches over and turns off the lights.  

“Night.”  

He lays in the dark, facing the other wall and waiting for your breathing to go even. Compelled to turn towards your back, Megumi does so as quietly and unobtrusively as possible. He can make out your silhouette in the dark, tracing the outline of your shoulder with his eyes as he continues to feel incredibly nervous and lovesick. He’s been pining like this for so long, he finds it pathetic.  

 You’re less than a few feet away but he can barely bring himself to look at you. Oddly overwhelmed, he lets his eyes close and tries his best not to think too much about the next few days.  

__  

Against all odds, Megumi sleeps well and wakes up feeling better.  

You, of course, moved around a bunch in your sleep - ending up on his side of the bed with a single arm thrown across his waist and your face in his chest. He woke up earlier than you, thankfully - and carefully pried himself from your touch to take a cold shower in the bathroom and not die of embarrassment at the resulting morning wood. 

You were awake by the time he got out. After you were both ready for the day, you ate breakfast together and had coffee before leaving the hotel. The whole situation was more embarrassing during the daylight.  

Your hotel is a twenty minute drive from the site location of the mission. A quick taxi cab ride to a small temple. Navigating isn’t exceptionally difficult. The temple itself is somewhat obscured, not marked on any online maps. It’s well known locally though, enough that a taxi driver could take them towards the bottom of the hill where it’s located. It’s listed as a temple, but on further inspection it’s a small and worn shrine. The details about the shrines origin or history are unclear even.  

After arriving, you were both relying on the provided map. The commune itself is away from civilization. A couple hundred meters Northeast from the temple sight is a path through the forest - leading out to the clearing where the commune is supposedly located.  

The communes ruins are a one straight distance after that. If someone was taking a short hike, it wouldn’t be hard to find.  

So it isn’t difficult to find for the two of you either.  

Megumi’s shikigami follow along side him, divine dog sniffing along the trail. You’re up front, checking the path and making sure the trail is correct, as well taking notes for your report later on.  

You turn your head and share a look with Megumi - no doubt feeling the same thing he does. There’s cursed energy around here, but it’s weird and hard to trace. Neither him nor the Shikigami can make sense of exactly where it’s coming from.  

Eventually, you come across stone - laid deliberately like a pathway, and glance at Megumi with hopeful eyes.  

A clearing comes in view. Ruins, with cursed energy brimming somewhere within them fall into his sightline. It’s a bigger location that Megumi thought it’d be - stretching out far despite hosting so few residents. There are dilapidated cabins and other buildings, the place filled with overgrowth and ivy. Shattered windows, graffiti, and trash affirm to Megumi that this place was found by other people at one point or another.  

Megumi stands besides you as you assess the situation, silently taking the lead. You step forward, further in. A sigh leaves your lips as you turn to Megumi.  

“We’re here but,” You scratch the back of your neck. “What to do now is…”  

“What are you thinking?”  

You sigh. “Part of me wonders if we should split up to check the buildings, but the information is so vague that I don’t know if it’s a good idea.”  

“It’s fine.” Megumi assures. He’s not thrilled but splitting up for now is the best course of action. He can handle himself. He’s sure you’re worrying about that. “As long as we can hear each other, it should be fine.”  

Your concern muddles your features, brows drawn together as you frown. You relent eventually though. Megumi feels the corners of his mouth twitch up at how long you think about it.  

“Okay then,” You use your fingers to point towards the left half, right at what looks like an abandoned dormitory. “I’ll go look in there. Megumi-kun can go that way. And if anything sticks out, call for me immediately.” 

“Don’t worry so much.”  

“If it’s Megumi, I can’t help but worry,” Your reply comes in the same beat. He feels himself blush, casting his gaze to his Divine Dog with a frown.  

“I’ll be fine so let’s hurry up and look around already.” 

You still hesitate to part ways with Megumi, but you budge eventually. He waits for you to summon protection for yourself, watching in awe as you unzip a deck of cards from the side pocket of your uniform. Beautiful, steel enforced hanafuda cards shine in the daylight. You shuffle them with your eyes closed, feeling along the backs for the right one before sliding the set back into your uniforms compartment.  

You make a gesture to follow along with the command two-handed tanzaku, ten points - and Megumi watches the curse manifest around your arms. A strand of bi-colored tanzaku paper appears in your hand, razor-sharp with cursed energy. You coil it around your wrist before turning to Megumi with a small smile.  

Despite how often he’s seen you do it, the appreciation in your face at the newly summoned curse make his emotions bubble and swell with impossible longing.  

“Let’s meet back here if we get lost,” You say precariously. Megumi huffs.  

“We won’t get lost. It’s barely that far.”  

You pout at him. “It’s better to be safe then sorry.”  

He wants to ask when you’re doing when you drop down to your knees - but the words die in his throat as your hand comes up to pet his shikigami affectionately. You give it a small smile. “Please take care of Megumi-kun in my absence.”  

The Divine Dog lets out a pleased chuff that makes you smile.  

“….We’ll be fine,” He says - because as much as he would like to make fun of you for it, he finds it all terribly cute. You stand back up to your feet, seemingly more reassured. That’s good at least. “I’ll go ahead, then.”  

Megumi turns to leave before you can get another embarrassing word in edgewise, blush crawling up against his skin. Once he hears your foot steps fall lighter and lighter in the opposite direction, he takes moment to steel himself and prepare for the mission.  

It’s easier to tear his mind away from you when the threat of mortal peril looms - so for once, Megumi is just a little grateful to be a sorcerer.  

He takes a better look at his surroundings, shikigami sniffing along the crumbling pathways of the ruined commune and searching for a scent. It’s a strange place with a strange aura, aside from the curse. There’s not much way to describe other than tiny village. The half you’ve gone to explore seems to be nothing but houses and communal living - with some kind of central house if Megumi had to guess based on it’s layout.  

Where Megumi is walking along though seems to be amenities. On the right is open space - rustic wood stakes stuck into the ground with clothes-wire with a rotted fence separating it from another big patch of dirt. There’s signs tacked onto some of the structural poles along the outside, but they’re too dirty for Megumi to read. It’s easy to tell from how crude everything is that all of it was hand-made.  

On the left of him are storage sheds and old-crates that have somehow stood the test of time - covered in dust and dirt and moss. One of the storage sheds has a completely collapsed roof 

It’s entirely uninteresting, and that feels unsettling. The cursed air still lingers, but the familiar acrid scent doesn’t seem to be there. It’s something else, something new - and it’s simmering under the surface. Neither he nor his Shikigami seem to pick up on anything clearly. 

After a few minutes of walking, Megumi thinks they start to close in on the end of the trail. His shikigami suddenly comes to life. He looks forward.  

At the end of the trail, obscured by more forest and trail is a greenhouse. It’s made with all glass, and there’s moss and condensation surrounding it. Something about it feels alive, but Megumi can’t tell if that’s just his well-developed paranoia.  

“Go find her,” Megumi says. The shikigami makes an affirmative noise and darts off in the opposite direction as Megumi closes into the building and surrounding structures.  

The front door of the structure is pried open and pushed against the wall. It’s an interesting shape - a half-dome and much bigger than how it looks from the outside when Megumi steps in. Too big. It’s weird.  

All of the hair stands on the back of Megumi’s neck as he stands inside of it. He fits with plenty of space to move his limbs. There are raised beds along both sides of the facility - the material boxing them in now covered in dirt and dust. Overgrowths and some kind of small plant crush underneath his feet and surround him. It smells… sweet. Very sweet but distantly. Megumi can’t figure out what it is. Towards the back are gardening tools and a table with things on it.  

It’s here. This is the center of whatever unusual cursed energy he’s been feeling since they’ve been within one-hundred feet of this place. It’s in here, surrounding him.  

His skin starts to feel hot. He figures the presence of the glass might be concentrating sunlight and brushes it aside.  

He doesn’t get much time alone in his assessment of the place. A few minutes pass before you find him again, smiling at him upon your return. Megumi’s heart does a soft pitter-patter as you enter, his shikigami proudly behind you. There’s a sudden leap in his affection laying eyes on that doesn’t make sense. It’s unusual and unprofessional for him to get so caught up on it during a mission. He’s had enough with you to know how to tamp the feeling down. He has a hard time with it this time thought but shakes it off.  

“Did you find anything?” Megumi asks. Your tanzaku is wrapped around your wrist like a bracelet, Megumi notices.  

“Yeah, actually. Notes. I didn’t get much time to check and a lot of them were too water-damaged to read, but I think curse breeding might’ve been an inaccurate,” You say, scratching the back of your neck. “It seemed like something else. With different kinds of cursed energy, or something to create more output.”  

Megumi doesn’t know what that means, and it must show on his face because you laugh in understanding. “Yeah. It wasn’t clear to me either but I haven’t seen everything yet. I thought I should come here first so we can expel whatevers here.”  

“That’s the problem, though.” Megumi says. “Can’t figure out what exactly is here. The cursed energy is…”  

“Obscured,” You say easily. Megumi nods.  

“Exactly,”  

“Never seen anything like this before, honestly.”  

Megumi is surprised by that. You’ve been a special grade for a long time, the extent of your abilities equal to Okkotsu-senpai He doesn’t know how worried he should be. You’re focusing hard as you look around. 

He tries to do the same, wants to contribute more to the conversation but his mind feels strangely cloudy. He slept well he thought. Maybe the heat is bothering him more than expected. The uniforms have always been stuffy during summer.  

You step around around him to look at your surroundings better, but find the same problem.  

After a minute or two of aimlessly searching, something seems to click in. You drop down to your knee. Your fingers caress whatever is sprouting in the ground underneath you. Plucking one from the soil, you bring it up to your face and frown. You’re gentle with the petals. It looks like a clover of some kind, but the color is too bright - more like a small flower maybe. He’s never seen anything like it.  

Megumi feels his skin go hot again watching you touch it. It’s odd. Too sudden and almost nonsensical, how much magentism he feels towards your innocuous gesture.  

There’s another shift in the air, deliberate - and something moves underneath Megumi’s feet. Your voice is panicked as some sudden realization dawns on you, his shikigami barks loudly.  

Everything moves around him in a daze. His ears are ringing suddenly, heart thumping hard against his chest as the flowers beneath him move and distort into tendrils, curling around his ankles.  

“Megumi-kun, we have to get out of here. We have to—“  

Your words are cut short before he can heed them. A scream rips from his chest as the ground opens up and swallows him whole. 

__ 

He falls for a long time. It seems endless.  

His voice is trapped in his throat, despite his attempts to scream. His body weightless, crashes through empty space for what feels like hours. Despite the situation, all Megumi can worry about is you. You aren’t falling beside him though he’s sure you came in together. The whole that ripped the ground was too big for that not to be true. The thought of you dying is so familiar, but it makes Megumi want to throw up mid-air.  

The crash comes eventually. Bracing himself for impact as he falls backwards , he lands onto something like grass. It’s not painful in the least. His skin prickles at the sensations surrounding him. Saccharine sweetness distorts the air, an artificial scent clogging his lungs as he gasps and opens his eyes.  

He senses a presence next to him and turns to find you beside him in the grass. His body aches, both wanting to find relief in the fact you’ve appeared beside him and feeling uncertainty at the same fact. Cursed energy seeps through every inch of this place, and part of him worries you’re some kind of illusion or mirage. Regardless, he calls out for you and hopes you’ll answer.  

“Hey,” He tries saying your name but you don’t budge. He nudges your arm but retracts just as quickly, hissing - the sensation making his skin burn at point of contact. A hole sears in your uniform where he touches you. “Wake up, shit. Please wake up.”  

After another minute, your eyes open. Megumi lets out a breath he wasn’t aware he’d been holding. You groan as you sit up. Megumi sits up with you.  

“Fuck,” Your voice is thick as you sit with one leg up, a pressing a knuckle to your temple. “My head is pounding.”  

Megumi makes a noncommittal noise. “Yeah. I can’t tell what kind of domain this is.”  

“These were just apart of the curse, then. I felt something off of them but..,” You pick a flower up from the grass and it..moves. He frowns. “They must just be apart of the domain. Which means there’s a special grade behind this.” 

Right. Megumi has been too hung up on everything else to make proper note of that. He rubs the back of his neck as he tries to absorb his surroundings. The air around him is hazy pink. He can’t acclimate to it, breathing shallow. From the flower-curse you picked, to the plants on the trees nearby. It’s lush and humid, but the makeup in the surroundings is dreamlike. A woodland forest of some kind, maybe. There’s a waterfall and round body of water, a short distance away and trees on every side. It’s alarming in how beautiful it is, disconcerting since the cursed energy inside is potent enough to make all the hair on Megumi’s neck stand straight.  

“My, my. What delicious sorcery I’ve stumbled upon,”  

Megumi looks around to try to find the source of the voice but comes up with nothing. You and Megumi share a look in silent understanding.  

“An unregistered Special Grade in the underground of Sendai.” Your voice is resolute. It sounds so different to how you usually speak, firm and cold. “How did you obscure your cursed energy like this.”  

“So many questions. Don’t be so hostile to your host,” The voice is soft and feminine but deeply distorted at the same time. Grating. “I’m a benevolent spirit, little sorcerer - so I won’t kill you right away. Keep in mind you are in my domain. To attack me would be unwise. And I promise, you’ll feel good until the very end.”  

You quiet, assessing the situation. There’s so little about the curse that either of you can make out. The curse is intelligent enough to bargain - to reason, which means the danger you’re both in is substantial enough to be incredibly cautious. You realize it quickly, Megumi is sure. He shoots you a look, your brows furrowed as you try to make everything make sense.  

“What are you after?”  

“You must know, little sorcerer. Human desire is filthy thing. Money, power, fame.” The air changes around you - flowers besides you blooming higher and higher until you’re all but surrounded. The sickly sweet scent becomes stronger and headier. Megumi’s lungs fill with the strange gas, burning the back of his throat. He coughs, trying to expel it. “What beautiful curses are born from pent-up and unspoken wants.”  

“Fuck this is so irritating,” You seem to be in a similar condition, holding up your first to your mouth as you cough along side him 

“Human beings are so foolish in the face of lust, so inducing such a fever is easy. But the results can be so lackluster.” The curse is taunting, giddy at the prospect of you. “How lucky and I to come across such talented jujutsu sorcerers with such ripe energy, hm?’ 

“An underhanded method like this,” You talk mostly to yourself. “Your physical form must be weak, then. To obscure yourself inside of your domain.”  

Megumi can feel the cursed energy amplify, a sneer in the Special Grade’s voice.  

 “How clever.” It remarks sarcastically. “But not clever enough. It’ll be staring any minute now. Fight it to your hearts content, little sorcerer. I’m looking forward to the show.”  

It’s only a split second before the heat starts to sink into Megumi’s body. He burns so intensely, so suddenly - it makes every other sensation feel trivial. It’s painful, searing, and all-consuming. Breathless, he feels his vision blur as a strong wave of physical arousal completely dominates him. It’s like an injection, nerves on high alert as he pulls at the neck of his uniform and gasps. The flowers surrounding you bloom into something grotesque, an open mouth in the center hissing out more of the pink hazy gas that’s surrounding you before turning again, until you can barely see a few feet away from each other. Megumi can feel the cursed energy course through his body, like pure fire in his blood stream. His cock is hard as steel, makes him feel like he’s going to pass out if he doesn’t touch himself.  

Forcing himself to remain steady for as long as he can, he searches for you. Your condition isn’t better as you lean back on your palms - your chest heaving in out as visible arousal paints your face. You share the same pain, the same lust, the same fever. The thought of it makes Megumi’s cock stir again shamefully.  

“I’m sorry,” Megumi can barely make out his voice. It’s so painful. His entire body feels like it’s screaming but  he can’t bear the idea of forcing you to touch him. These conditions, this situation - this terrible heat. Whatever loose threads of rationale are keeping him afloat in these few minutes are begging him to find a way out of this. 

He knows it’s the circumstances. No one understands things like this more clearly than him but he feels deep resentment anyway. Mostly towards himself. “I’m sorry.. aah, fuck - I don’t want to force this.”  

“Megumi-kun.” You manage to voice some of your lucidity like he has, the brunt of it closing in. He feels like he’s only deluding himself, biting the inside of his cheek hard enough to draw blood. “Come here.” 

“No,” He almost screams it. He wants too. But he can’t find his voice to speak to you like that. He hopes the urgency reaches you. “I’m sorry. Shit, shit—”   

He doesn’t want to shatter the thing he’s so desperately protected - to ruin the relationship he’s felt so precious about so many years of his life. He doesn’t want it to happen this way. He can feel the self-loathing as he bites his tongue. 

 He’s dreamed of it so often, to touch you and kiss you and hold you. But at the hands of a curse feel so unfair.  

“It’s okay,” Your voice is so soft - a salve to his nerves. A balm to ache of his whole life, calm and smooth and so kind. He burns so deeply he wants to scream.  Your expression is somber but still assured. “It’s okay. It hurts right? So it’s fine.”  

He closes his eyes. Such a pure despair. Fuck. Tears well up his vision. The pain is unbearable without you. Perhaps it’s always been that way.  

“Please,”  

A desperate attempt to no one to wake up from this.  

“Megumi-kun,”  

It’s the sound of your voice, calling his name so assuredly even in the face of death, that finally makes Megumi shatter. The heat overtakes him. Posesses his sense and forces  him onto you like a lifeline.  

He throws himself at you in the grass, almost knocking you back with the force of his body. Both hands clasp your face as he presses his lips with yours with nothing but desperation. It’s less of a kiss and more of crash landing. He can feel his own conflict stirring inside of him but the relief of your touch drowns out his surroundings. All else in the world becomes silent except the taste of your mouth and the feeling of your face. How much he’s longed to this very thing, dreamed of it. Years. Over a decade of his life hiding in your beautiful shadow.  

You pull away from Megumi with a gasp and your face makes his entire body jolt. A flush dusts along your cheekbones as your hands reach for his shoulders. His head feels light. He can feel his cock twitch at the contact, suddenly gaining awareness of just how hard he is.  

“Megumi-kun,” You sound so serious it jolts him awake. His eyes open wide as he watches you undress hastily. You’re stumbling in your movements as you take everything off as quickly as you can - grabbing Megumi by the collar as he sits stiffly. “Take it off. All of it. Now, please.”  

At his wits end, he does. His hands tremble. His rational mind is fighting him at every gesture but his clothes feeling so constraining, binding him. His skin prickles, an itch skipping over his whole body as he takes everything off as fast as his hands allow. His vision is distorted from the heat. His uniform is sticky as he peels it off, drenched in sweat. He doesn’t see where they go, only feeling the relief as they come off his body. He looks for you unconsciously, immediately wanting to pull away from you as he finds you naked. The feeling is so primal it strikes fear in him. Another wave of unimaginable want pours over his skin like magma spilling across rock.  

He can’t count how much time he’s spent shamefully wondering what you look like naked. You exceed his expectations just like always, unbearably gorgeous. Soft edges and curves, scars and stretch marks - so unfairly enticing to his senses. He groans at the sight of you, eyes lidded in unadulterated, carnal want as you crawl over to him.  

Your hand pushes his shoulders back lightly towards the bed of grass underneath you both, until he’s flat on his back. He’s overwhelmed  when you crawl on top of him. You’re fever-sick just like he is, and Megumi is sure that you’re in just as much pain. 

But the face you make when you look like you want him is so fucking unfair.  

You’re beautiful and tricky and cunning and Megumi wants and wants and wants. Wants so fucking bad he might die, wants you so bad the heat in his body threatens to kill him without you. He needs you to touch him. Needs to feel your pretty hands slide across his body and touch whatever you want. 

 You lean forward to kiss him again much harder then before. Desperation makes kissing feel so pleasurable, so good. You feel so damn good. His mind is a blank slate, your tongue carving his wants into, rewiring his conscious to pine after you until the end. Your lips are soft - pillowy and plush against his own despite how much the kiss feels like little more but tongue and teeth. He wants to forfeit it all for the sake of this lasting a little longer, just as he has his entire life.  

Your existence a proof of his namesake - tongue and taste a blessing.  

Your body is soft and hot against Megumi’s skin but together the temperature cools comfortable. It’s sensual how slippery the sweat makes your bodies as you rub against each other. A mutual oasis, your tits squish along his abs and chest as Megumi holds you tight. Each time your nippls brush, his cock floods with precum.  

You slip your tongue into his mouth, and kiss Megumi sloppily. His cock pulses awake at the wetness, a strong wave of arousal backing him into a corner. Your pussy is barely hovering against his cock but Megumi strains. It gets pulled from him, an involuntary reaction. Cum spurts out of him, splashing up against your skin - dripping as it sticks to your pussy in hot spurts. He groans into your lips.  

“Did you cum from us kissing?” You ask, your voice completely gone. It’s you but it’s not. It matters but it doesn’t.  

He makes an affirmative noise and you giggle into his mouth, teeth bumping together as you kiss more. “Megumi-kun is cute.”  

He’s still so painfully hard. Electricity flares through everyone of his nerves as he slides just barely against your cunt. Fuck. You’re so wet. It feels so good it makes Megumi want to buck his hips and be inside of you already. Impatience makes his grip on your hips tight. His brain feels like it’s weighted with lead. He’s losing himself, losing his fucking mind like this. You taste sweet against his tongue as you sink your pussy down and grind against his length. You’re throbbing so hard Megumi can feel every pulse, the desperate spasming of your sex approaching orgasm.  

The filthiness of your arousal mixing together makes Megumi’s cock twitch against your clit hard. You moan loudly into his mouth and the sound sends him over edge, a life-time of pining make it hard to breathe as you take initiative and pleasure yourself with his body. He’s incredibly eager to allow you. Over and over, you slide your soft pussy over the length of his cock and balls - aimlessly covering it with slick, hips rutting and shivering with motion. Drools drips along the corners of your lips as you kiss him.  

He already wants to cum again, wants to take you in such a primal way it makes him dizzy. He feels whole thinking about what it might feel to cum so deeply inside of you. He’s thought about before, but the thought holds so much more weight in the state of his fever.  

But now it’s the only thing he wants. His teeth ache at the mere prospect. Of filling your pussy with his cum until it overflows and drips. Wants to see it pulse and push and spill and fuck it into you at your request. He wants to hear you praise him for it just like he always does, the desire much stronger than ever. Easier to admit in this curse induced sex.  

You’re breathless as you orgasm above him, on top of him - sliding along his cock and soaking his lower half with stickiness of your pussy. You pull away from his mouth to laugh delightfully. He’s so hard. He wants you so much he doesn’t know how to express it other than kissing you desperately - still restraining himself.  

It’s so much easier to catch his breathe now that you’ve both cum. Even painfully highstrung from the high with such a horrible temperature, something settles before it builds back up again.  

The relief is burdensome almost.  

“So we,” You’re breathless, more yourself and Megumi has never been happy yet so sad to see this glimpse of you again. “We both have to…haah.. cum. For the fever to slow...That’s something to work with.”  

Your expression is more serious as you lean forward, sweaty forehead touching his. It’s you doing it, not the curse forcing you both and that makes his body react. “Megumi-kun. Everything will be okay.”  

“I’m sorry. I didn’t,” He screws his eyes shut hard. “I didn’t want this to happen. This is..”  

He wants to say the worst possible outcome, but he doesn’t. You smile at him. “It’s okay because it’s you.”  

Even in the middle of all of this, you manage to get his hopes up in the worst possible way. He can’t do anything but laugh at that, genuine exhaustion starting to make him lose sense. Another wave is coming quickly, steadily. Taking a serious look at his face, you hold him close to you.  

“We’ll survive this. We’ve fought worse.”  

“You’re comforting me at a time like this,”  

You just smile at him. The heat spikes again, even more intensely than before and both of you stare at each other as the lust glosses over your expression. A pit forms in his stomach, the arousal spiking so high he chokes on it. You’re kissing again - no build up as you slide your tongue sloppily against his mouth and rub against his cock. It’s not enough this time, not even close. His chest is tight as he gasps the words against your mouth.  

“Inside.” He breathes the word between kisses, spit and saliva dripping down the sides of his face. “Need to be inside. Please, shit. Please.”  

“I want it inside.” You say and Megumi groans as your hands reach between your bodies - sticky from the mess. His cock twitches as soon as your hand wraps around the base of his shaft. You pump it twice as you sit up completely to get better accesses to it. The absence of your body makes him needy again.  

Pre-cum dribbles pathetically from the tip as you guide his cock to your pussy. Without any prep at all, you lean back and slam your weight down onto him with full force. It slides with no resistance - as you take him all the way down to the base with complete ease. Your body collapses into a shiver when you take him inside. You both cum at exactly the same time, your pussy sucking him in with a vice-like grip as he shoots another load into you. Inside of you so deep he’s aroused all over again. His cock is still hard as he fills you - and you ride your mutual high out before another brief moment of sobriety takes you. He’s briefly sated as you pas back down against him, littering bites along his neck.  

You smile at him when you pull back, suddenly lucid - bending down to meet his mouth in a kiss sober. He can feel himself blush as he joins you in the brief lucidity.  

“Megumi, you’re so big.” You say with breathless laughter. He almost wants to scream he loves you but buries it immediately.  

He groans. “I can’t believe you’re being like this given the situation.”  

You hum pleasantly and Megumi feels his heart tug.  The moment lingers to briefly before it’s interrupted again. It’s abrupt and makes you lean into his chest.  

“You sorcerers are boring me to tears,” The curse starts again, making you both stand to alert almost immediately. “Don’t be so shy now.”  

The Special Grade repeats the incantation of a technique.  

Cursed Technique: Hidden Desires.  

The air around Megumi changes suddenly. Instead of the lush oasis, he’s surrounded by a vague, all encompassing darkness similar to when he had been falling. He’s standing in it though he can’t see anything, not even himself. The fever has subsided despite him being inside the domain. Hidden Desires…from the speech the Special Grade went on earlier, he’s sure it’s related. He stands still, unsure of what to do before something appears in front of him.  

A sphere of cursed energy, a memory of some kind - at the brush of his fingertips. Despite his attempt to retract his hand, an outside force makes him touch it.  

Several emotions course through his entire body at one, passing through his mind steadily. He connects to your body, your cursed energy seeping into him as he touches whatevers in front of him. His skull throbs from the exposure of someone elses memories, the fever returning to his body one-thousand times hotter than normal. A life time breaches his mind but he doesn’t get to sift through any of it. 

 It comes to a sudden halt, and Megumi hears a whisper in his subconscious. He can’t make the words out properly.  

Arousal spikes into his body as what seems to be your desire manifests in his head. 

He does not know what reaction to have when memories and images of himself appear. Himself from your perspective, in perpetual motion - memories over the course of years crossed over with manifestations of your desires. All of it is him. Tied up, blindfolded, all other things. But him, always. Some visions are more tender than the rest. He can barely process the information, increasing stimulation making his brain fog once more.  

Fever spikes through him again. Confusion, embarrassment, and uncertainty make his stomach flip. He remains cautionary and assumes it’s another trick of the light.He doesn’t get to recover when he’s thrust back into the domain in the same position he was before he left. You look just as confused when he comes back.  

There’s not a moment to speak to each other, as the curse gets amplified ten-fold the minute he steps back into the domain. His entire body breaks out in a cherry red blush as arousal twists through his gut, curling up his neck. Claims his whole body all in on forceful gesture. The sensitivity is cranked so high, he can barely feel your hand your hand on his chest without his cock spilling pre-cum.  

Furious lust overwhelms him as you lean forward and meet his mouth again. It feels different somehow, the kiss. You press your tongue against his lips as Megumi’s cock twitches inside you. 

“Megumi-kun,” Your voice is shot. “Want you to fuck me. Fill me up. Be good and do it, okay? Fuck me so good,”  

The words alone are enough to break him from his state of mind. He takes one more look at you after you’ve granted him permission before flipping you over onto your back. He shudders as you wrap your legs around his waist - hands on either side of your head staring down hard, as he positions himself as deep as he can go inside of your cunt. It’s indescribable, the sensation of needing to fuck you. He’s never been one to chase his base instincts like this unless it’s life or death - but it feels so fucking good to let go. It feels like life or death to sate you with hi cum. Megumi is used to sitting on his hands and playing at indifference, but right now you let him take and take and take. Your hands cup his cheeks, your expression hazy with pleasure. He drops his head down to your shoulders and fucks you with every ounce of strength in his waist - animalistic and desperate to scratch the skin deep itch. He bites into your shoulder as you hips slam, the sound of wet-skin slapping against each other ringing in his ears - cum frothing white at the base of his cock and dripping down your ass each time. He needs to cum again, until the heat subsides.  

He barely gets a few thrusts in before his body strains in the familiar wake of an orgasm. The words to warn you come out choked as his hips slam against the backs of your thighs harder than ever- cumming inside of you again in what feels like seconds. It goes forever, balls emptying as he pumps his seed inside. You cum alongside him, at the same time - pussy throbbing hard around his shaft as he fills you with spend. It’s not enough, doesn’t give him the same relief this time. He needs more.  

“Fuck that’s so good,” You praise making him groan. “You’re so good, baby - fuck, Megumi.”  

You moan his name against his neck. Possession settles itself into his chest at the sound as you tell him to give you more, your hands on his ass to push his cock further into you. He fucks into you again - harder, faster, deeper - cumming every time. Pure adrenaline sends him careening down a cliffs edge, unspeakable fervor making it all but impossible to part from you. Scorching like the desert sun along his spine, a solar flare inside of his stomach as you cum together in constant motions.  

He can’t stop fucking you. He can’t. His body wont allow him even a minute seperated from the euphoria of your swollen cunt sucking in him like it needs his cum more than anything in the world. His brain feels like liquid matter in his skull, thrashing uselessly when he tries to will himself away from you. Delirium drives his every movements as Megumi fucks his cock into you over and over and over.  

You goad him with every thrust of hips - wrapped tight around his waist, fingers tugging at his hair. Praise bubbles from your mouth - champagne light against his skin but so impactful each time. His dick throbs every time you call him good, call him perfect as he fills you with his cum again and again and again.  

“My perfect fucking boy. Fuck me, that’s it.”  

It goes on like that for what feels like forever.  

He loses track by the time the heat starts to subdue again. The curse still simmers under his skin but he finds grounding after unloading a few more times. By then, he can feel how much he’s cum in you and can’t help  but blush. The hint of another wave tingles in the back of his head, and he can’t pull away from you without feeling sharp pain.  

But he does sober again eventually. He waits for you to join him, and tries not to feel sick at the intimacy of it. He’s back to his senses enough to feel utter embarrassment.  

Your voice is soft and exhausted. “Megumi-kun,” You’re so gentle to him. “What did you see?”  

He knows what you mean immediately, sensing you must’ve seen the same thing. “I think it might be another illusion of the curse.”  

“Why do you think that?”  

He can feel his blush darken all over his body. “It was uh, me. In the technique. Tied up and uhm. Anyway. I thought it might be something to provoke the other party into sex.”  

Your eyes go wide at the confession. “….Yours was me, too.”  

Oh. He blinks. You look at him again, too suddenly - peering at him through your lashes.  

“It wasn’t wrong,” You say. You seem scared, just a little. He’s never seen you like that before. “…If you saw yourself and some… kinkier stuff. It wasn’t wrong about that.”  

His throat suddenly feels so dry. 

 “What was…what did you see?” He asks.  

“It was me,” You say bashfully. “Mostly romantics and stuff. And some other stuff, but I don’t know if I should tell you, hehe.”  

He finds the action mercifully. He wonders if this whole thing is made-up when it dawns on him. Some type of fantasy. Maybe he was the only one down here from the start - and that’s why everything has felt so alarmingly right. 

Otherwise. Otherwise it would mean that you…  

“Megumi-kun,”  

He can’t breathe, but it’s for an entirely different reason. He wonders if he’ll die from his heart beating too fast.”Hm?”  

A bated breath follows a sweet smile.  

“Love you,” You mumble it against his mouth. The air is so vulnerable - more fragile than the wings of a dragonfly, more fragile than blown glass. “In that way….have for a long time. So long.”  

His reply is reflexive.  

“No you don’t,”  

You pause before bursting out into giggles. So beautiful and clever. He loves you with painful devotion. “That’s your reply to my love confession?!”  

“Shut up,” He hisses, though he can’t bring himself to make the words sound any meaner. He feels high.   

“I love you, Megumi.” You say more clearly. Your eyes shine with familiarity he’s adored for years. Even with all the fog and haze surrounding you, they’re clear and gorgeous. “More than anyone else in the world, I think.”  

He buries his face against your neck, struggling to get it out. He’s afraid to say it. Afraid if he confirms it that everything is going to collapse here. Like a dream that’s gone on too long. Megumi doesn’t want to wake up.  

He wants more than anything, for all of it to be real - even if it means he ends here.  

He won’t curse you after death, that way.  

He can’t find his voice.  

“Me too,” The weight of one thousand deaths, a thousand days of longing and loving and pining. It’s too burdensome to say. He’s afraid of what will happen to him - mind and soul, should he let himself admit what he kept so well-hidden. “I love you. You…”  

When he manages to meet your gaze, your eyes are welled up with tears. He panics. “Don’t cry. Sorry,”  

“You too. Don’t cry,”  

“I’m not—“ His vision blurs. Damn it.  

“I love you,” You say again and Megumi feels something inside of him mend. “I’ll say it as many times as you want.”  

He doesn’t sense a fever this time. But he braves himself to kiss you one more time. It feels more intense than all else. He kisses you soft and slow, lets himself melt into your affectionate touch and gaze. There’s love behind it so obviously it makes him want to cry. He might really start sobbing, but he’s distracted by your mouth.  

He feels boneless, throat tight.  

“I don’t feel any fever.” You tell him when you pull away from him. He presses his forehead to yours. “I like kissing you.” 

So embarrassing. “Yeah…”  

“Let’s make love one more time.” You offer, and Megumi looks at you in disbelief. Just as always, you’re collected but ridiculous. It’s oddly comforting. Megumi wants to believe in you, so he does. “Just one more.”  

The fever is no longer there, but the sensitivity is still strong in his body. Your mouths meet in a chorus of affection. Megumi is still hard, somehow. But he can feel everything much more clearly. Can understand the taste of your lips and the feeling of your pussy pulsing - that it’s for him and he feels so elated he wonders if it will ever go away. He kisses you gingerly and lets himself slide out as your hand goes to his nape.  

“You’re so good to me, Megumi,” Your words make him ache. A whimper leaves his lips. “My beautiful boy. It must’ve been lonely, huh?”  

“Yes,” His words meet a thrust, slow but deep. A communication of needs so raw he can barely show them to you without feeling shy. “So long. Loved you for so long.” 

“Me too,” You mutter. The praise pierces his heart, suffocates him in such a euphoric feeling he can’t help but gasp at each reminder. “I love you so much, baby. And we’re gonna get out of here and be together, right?”  

He feels his head fill with nothingness. Relief like cold air brushes along his skin. Like being bathed in cool water. You’re his cure - but that’s always been true. “Yeah. Please.”  

“You can’t run away, okay?”  

“I won’t,”  

“Even though I want to monopolize you?”  

He blushes but grunts with affirmation following another slow roll of his hips. “I want to be with you. Nothing else matters. A-and I didn’t hate it… or anything.”  

You smile at him. He loves you. He loves you, he loves you, he loves you. It’s all he can come up with - watching your eyes crinkle in the corners with nothing but delight. “Mm.” You slide a hand between your bodies, rubbing your clit soft as you moan a little. “Sensitive. Gonna cum soon.” 

“Me too,”  

He’s barely holding it together as is. It takes a little more to push him over the edge one last time. This orgasm feels different. Feels rooted in reality. The mutual pleasure grounds him completely, relieving his ailment despite the remaining hints of fever. He kisses you as he cums inside of you one last time, shuddering as you cum right alongside him. He whispers the words against your lips as you let go. He loves you. 

The fever cools down. It takes a while for him to slip away from you after everything, but he manages.  

“Sorry,” He mumbles, watching the cum leak out of you in embarrassment. You just laugh, patting his cheek.  

“It’s okay, promise.” You stand to your feet as Megumi tries not to be self-conscious about the way it’s dripping down your thigh. “I can’t feel the presence of the Special Grade. It must be watching from somewhere inside the domain.”  

“Yeah,” Megumi says, trying to find his clothes.”No idea how the curse broke. Maybe since we’re already curse users?” 

You hum noncommittally. “Yeah. Let’s… clean up best we can and get outta here, yeah?”  

Megumi smiles, soft and relieved. “Yeah.”  

__  

“Are you interested in hearing the details of the curse, my dearest Megumi-chan?”  

Megumi grimaces.  

“No. Why are you even here?”  

Gojo-sensei feigns a look of offense that makes Megumi want to strangle him. He wants to go home and bathe properly already but there’s always a lot of hooplah with unregistered special grades. He’s relieved in one sense of the word, though it’s not like Gojo’s appearance made any difference since you two defeated the curse together and promptly passed out.  

He woke up clothed, and not as sticky as he was during the fight. Apparently Gojo had found you both first and once you were awake, you cleaned him. 

He sits on a tree stump in the forest nearby, his eyes flitting over to to you. You’re debriefing an archivist for Jujutsu when he catches your eye. His heart pounds, blushing at the happiness on your face. 

He feels six-eyes on him and glares at Gojo, who’s currently hiding his mouth behind his hand.  

“How long have we been out?”  

“Mm,” Sensei holds up three fingers. “About three days? I only got here on the third and found you. I was here before, several years ago - for a related case. It took some time, but we fond information of the curse in one of the houses. Are you curious?”  

He’s surprised for a minute, groaning right after. “Just tell me.”  

“Special Grade Kuroyuri uses a technique called Fever, to induce what’s essentially heat - forcing all  parties into extreme physical discomfort that can only be alleviated by sexual contact - no matter the party,” He spouts off, pretending to push his glasses up. Megumi frowns at him.  “Fever works by inducing conditions related to inner  desires and producing cursed energy that way. However, as a result, should two people experiencing Fever - be capable of sating the others desire deeply, they are able to break free from it. As the condition is vague and difficult to achieve, it’s very rarely met which is what has allowed the domain to get so strong.” 

Megumi makes wide eyes. “So you’re saying…”  

“Megumi-chan, the stairwell to adulthood and true love saved you! How wonderful!”  

Megumi blushes as Gojo giggles, glaring at him. He should kill him someday.  

Gojo-sensei pretends to wipe a tear from his eye. “The painful years of pining were worth something Megumi-chan. To think your desires were so pure…” 

“Shut up! I’m going to kill you!” Megumi groans, pinching the bridge of his nose and sighing. “Do we have any idea why the curse was created?”  

“Seems the cult worshipped cursed energy as a measure of human experience. A curse intending to induce more cursed energy as evidence of their belief. Something like that. The details are vague, but we’re still looking.”  

Megumi sighs again. “Right. Thanks,”  

He puts a hand on his shoulder  as Megumi feels the exhaustion tamp down on him. He feels better and embarrassed as you pad over to him after you’re done.  

“Megumi-kun,” You smile at him before nodding to Gojo-sensei. He smiles back.  

“I’ll leave you two lovebirds alone,”  

Megumi shoots one last glare at Gojo before looking towards you. You sit down beside him on the ground, resting your head on his lap in a way that makes his whole body break out into a blush. He’s happy though.  

“I love you,”  

“What are you saying?”  

You look up at him. “Just want to make sure you know.”  

He looks down at you from where you lay and frowns. “How could I not?” And then, a little softer. “…It’s mutual.”  

You reach a hand towards his as you giggle to yourself. “That’s good.”  

Megumi squeezes your hand and closes his eyes. Better than good, maybe.  

__  

PROLOGUE:  

[ SEPTEMBER 4TH, 2018 | 4:45pm] 

Megumi waits a while before going into the courtyard, hoping that you’ll move and practice elsewhere if he waits long enough.  

He’s been sitting behind the wall for the last half-hour at least. No luck.  

He feels bad about avoiding you, but it’s the only course of action he thinks helps both parties.  

He doesn’t exactly like you. It’s easier to say he finds it difficult to get used to you is all. Your personality eludes him, and you remind a little too much of Sensei in how you act. Not to mention you’re already so strong. You get along well with everyone else, especially the other first years. You’re a nice girl so it’s obvious Kugisaki-san would favor you, and Itadori-kun can get along with basically everyone.  

But you and him have been at odds since your arrival to the Tokyo branch months prior. Megumi can’t figure out how to bridge the gap between you, and finds it hard to force himself to like you. He doesn’t dislike you, either though. It’s not something he can put words too.  

He feels guilty about it since you haven’t done anything to him to cause his discomfort. He just… doesn’t know what to do.  

Lost in thought, he nearly jumps out of his skin as someone stands over him where he sits, casting shadow on him from above. He opens his eyes to see you standing over him, an unreadable look on his face.  

“How long did you plan on waiting here, Fushiguro-san?”  

Megumi stares up at you before frowning, rubbing his neck awkwardly. “Sorry for disturbing you.” 

You’re hard for him to read, though you’re smiling. You seem amused as you step back, allowing Megumi to stand up at full-height and glance at you.  

“I don’t mind. I know you don’t want to train with me, but it’d be kind of pointless to try and find somewhere else so it’s better to just bear with it a bit.”  

He stares at you. You smile knowingly.  

“You’re surprised I know you were avoiding me?” 

He nods.  

“No offense Fushiguro-san, but it’s hard not to notice something like that when our grade is four people,” You’re a little smug but it’s not mal-intended, though it kinda pisses him off. “No hard feelings.”  

You say that then sit next to him behind the wall. He stares at you feeling more uncomfortable - but can’t will himself to get up.  

“What are you doing?”  

You smile again. 

“Messing with you,”  

He stares at you. You stare back until you break out into laugher.  

“Pfft, I’m sorry. I really am. You make it so obvious on your face when I make you mad..hah.”  

“It’s that part of you I really don’t like.”  

“Mm, yeah - thought so.” Your reply is nonplussed but not unkind. “You’re the moody, serious type. Sensitive.”  

Megumi watches you shuffle through your deck of cards - the ones you’d been practicing with for the last few hours. You peruse through the thick boards of your Hanafuda deck, silently stacking them into different matching suits and using them with your cursed energy. Megumi watches on as you manifest different thing. He wants to ask you about it but can’t find the wil. You’re so strong, despite how you act. The strongest of the first years even outclassing him.  

“It’s fine if you find me hard to be around, but don’t avoid me so blatantly.” You reason coolly. “It’s best we get along.”  

“…Do you want me to get along with you?”  

You laugh at that but he isn’t sure why. It’s nice.. the sound of your laugh when it’s sincere. This is the first time he’s ever properly talked to you, he realizes.  

“Of course! I like getting along with everyone, even someone as brooding as you.”  

“Why.”  

“It’s good for my public image.” You say seriously. He deadpans as you perk up and laugh again. “Kidding, I’m kidding!”  

“I’m going to leave.” He threatens flatly.  

“Fine, fine. Do you want to know the real reason?”  

“I don’t really care,” He responds. You smile at that.  

“I’m more than happy to tell you,” You say, completely ignoring him. “Despite your various character flaws, I think Fushiguro-san is kind of innocent.”  

“Huh?”  

You smile warmly. “Your philosophy to only save people you think are good I thought was cute. It’s a very simple way to think about jujutsu. I like that part of you, I guess? You were raised with a lot of love, I think. Since it’s a difficult way to live.”  

Megumi thinks of his life - thinks of Tsumiki and his sensei with some begrudging. He doesn’t know what else to ask you. He’s a little uncomfortable that you seem to know him so well with the little information you have.  

“Why are you a sorcerer then?”  

Megumi watches you stack your cards into a card house and collapse them, humming to yourself. You seem deep in thought for a while. The sunlight moves away from the clouds briefly, a beam of line brushing against your skin. Your lashes cast shadow on your cheeks. He’s never seen you so clearly.  

You answer with utmost clarity and confidence - all shiny grin. “Ah, well why not, you know? Since I’m super talented.”  

He stares at you, dumbfounded before the corners of his lips twitch. Somehow he understands you a little better than before, and he thinks that might’ve been what you wanted.  

“You’re an idiot.”  

Your grin goes even wider.  

“Let’s be good friends, Fushiguro-san. Okay?” 

“Sure,” He relaxes his back against the wall and shuts his eyes with a small laugh. “Why not.”  

I Pick a Tail Number and We Could Be Tourists

CHAPTER SUMMARY: you're stranded out of town and it's all Megumi's fault. Time to find a hotel to crash in!

boyfriend!yuuji itadori x f!reader x bully!megumi fushiguro

WARNINGS : 18+, alcohol consumption, arguing, name calling, strong language lmao, PG chapter tbh!

WORDS : 9.2k

notes : dangerously close to running out of old chapters to edit and repost LOL

       LAST CHAPTER ┊ MASTERLIST ┊ NEXT CHAPTER

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Megumi didn’t wait for you as he re-entered the aquarium and you had to work double time to keep up with his brisk strides.

He said that you should go inside together so you could figure out this mess you found yourselves in; and yet it sure feels like he’s trying to leave you behind.

He only slows down when he starts to text, which of course, piques your interest. It’s probably his dad or his sister, letting them know what happened and asking for a ride. He comes to a complete stop as you arrive at the café. Megumi pulls out a chair, he intended it to be for himself, but when he looks up and notices your worried gaze, he gestures it to you and takes another seat.

You must look terrified if even Megumi is showing you that much kindness.

“Are you texting Toji?” you ask him, and he scoffs immediately.

“No? Why would I?”

“Because we are fucking stranded and you said we were going to plan what we are going to do!” you whisper-shout at him, doing all you can to remain level-headed and keep your fury to a minimum. You’re so overwhelmed and angry you know the smallest push will have you freefalling into tears.

“I’m gonna call that asshole teacher of ours and see if they can turn around.” Megumi tells you, scrolling through his phone until he lands on your lecturer’s phone number. You hear a faint ringing through the speaker again and again. A vision of rage flares across Megumi’s features as the ringing goes to voicemail.

“Call Toji!” you demand. It prompts Megumi to kiss his teeth and roll his eyes to look at you, he studies your body language and expression, and he has to hold back a smile when he sees how serious you are. “Or I will.” the threat causes Megumi’s vague amusement to fade into annoyance as he adjusts his seating position to sit up straight.

“Go on then.” he challenges, moodily. He rests his ankle over his knee and slouches more in his seat, avoiding eye contact with you as he proceeds to play on his phone and ignore the gravity of the situation you’ve found yourself in. You tut, quickly finding Toji’s name in your contacts and dialling.

Ring… Ring… Ring…

“What did he do?” he huffs, answering the phone sounding a little out of breath.

“N-Nothing, Toji. Well he, I guess he—“

“What? What’s going on, princess?”

Megumi’s eyes are burning into yours as he warns you to choose your next words carefully. Part of you wants to protect him; you aren’t sure if it’s out of guilt for your tattling earlier this morning or if it’s out of fear for what he’ll do to you. Your mouth hangs open as you consider, and then turns to a smile that you’ll hope Toji will hear through the phone.

“He’s been fine. But, uh, we missed the bus home.”

“Was it his fault?”

“W-Well, umm…”

“Just tell me sweetheart. Was it his fault you missed the bus?” he questions, a stern, authoritative tone in his speech. You do all you can to remain composed and not expose yourself to Megumi. A small little gulp travels down your throat as you find the confidence to croak out a singular word.

“Technically…”

“Put him on.”

“But—”

“Put him on the phone right now.”

He’s never spoken to you like that before. It was a condensed version of how you hear him address Megumi. You quickly hand the phone to his son and hear a quiet ‘for fuck sake’ under his breath as he presses your phone to his ear.

He looks cute, you think, with a pink love heart phone case on the side of his head. With this and the colouring book, you’re starting to think he’s not all bad.

Maybe he even has a softer side.

He at least has a sort of nice side if today is anything to go by.

You’re brought out of your soft ideation as you see a vein bulge against Megumi’s temple and his teeth grit whilst his father screams bloody murder at him down the phone. Even without speaker phone turned on, you can still hear him.

“Enough!” Megumi bites back, finally, and Toji actually pipes down once he hears his son snap. “Can you come get us or not?” he hisses through his teeth. His eyes bulge open as he hears a response he hadn’t expected. “What do you mean no? Where the fuck are you right now? It’s loud.”

“I mean no, shithead. I’ll talk to you about it later, I can’t get you though. I’m sorry, kid. Tsumiki is at work too so she can’t.” Toji tells him. Megumi sighs and shakes his head in your direction. It’s odd, considering Toji said he’d drop anything and everything to rescue you if needed be. But you suppose things happen, life gets in the way, it can’t be helped. You know he would if he could. “Give her the phone back.”

He does, holding it out for you to take. He gets up, trudging towards the barista to avoid listening to whatever his father is going to say to you.

“I’m so so sorry I can’t come get you, baby. You’re a credit card kid though, right? I’ll be able to wire you the money tomorrow if you wanna get a cab back. It’s only fair I fucking pay since it’s my dumb kid's fault.”

“Three hours in a cab? I can’t, I’m not really talking to my parents right now and I’d feel obliged to if I spent that much money on their card.” you tell him. He nods, despite you being unable to see it. He understands. “Megumi’s gonna try and ring our teacher again, maybe they’ll come back for us.”

“Yeah, maybe.” he responds, “I know it isn’t ideal but… if there’s no one else, maybe you could book a hotel room for the night or something?”

“Oh! Absolutely not!” you reply. The chipper tone in your voice with such a funny answer makes him snicker down the phone. “I’ve just remembered Gojo exists, I’ll call him!” you beam, impressed with yourself as the idea strikes you.

“N-No, princess, wait—!”

“Bye Toji!” you hang up, albeit a little guiltily. But you waste no time searching your contacts for Gojo.

You jump a little when you hear the sound of glass thump against the table you’re sitting at. He got you and himself milkshakes. Banana for you and strawberry for him. There’s something quite endearing about Megumi and the colour pink.

“Thanks. Did you know banana is my favourite or was it a guess?”

“I’m gonna try that fucking idiot teacher again.” Megumi speaks, totally ignoring your question. There’s no way he could have known it was your favourite, you’ve never told him and you doubt Yuuji had. He gets up and walks away from the table as he listens to the mind-numbing ring of his phone attempting to connect him.

Your call to Gojo is useless. His smarmy voice immediately grates on you as he asks how you got yourself in such a predicament. It only edges his theory more that you have a thing for Megumi now that you’re stuck with him. And you are stuck, since he’s also unable to help.

“Didn’t think you’d need me today so I’m out of town. How about your favourite Papaguro?” he taunts.

“He can’t. I don’t know what he’s doing but he said he can’t.” you tell him, coldly, hoping your tone of voice will quell his curiosity and put an end to his teasing.

“Oh really? How interesting. Let me talk to Megumi—”

“Goodbye, Gojo.” you cut him off before he can continue anymore. Your blood is boiling, but you manage to relax as you see a stream of texts from Toji begging you not to call Gojo.

Oops.

Megumi returns, tossing his phone onto the table. You think if he fell into his seat any harder he might have put a hole through the floor. He looks furious. A face like thunder and his arms folded across his chest. His foot begins tapping against the floor speedily, almost like a tick of some sort and soon it travels up his leg so that he’s bouncing it. You don’t stare, but you look over to him wondering when he’ll be ready to talk. He looks at you when you lean forward to sip the straw of your milkshake.

“I thought it was weird that they left without us,” he starts, copying your actions and slurping the pink liquid he purchased through his straw. “Whenever I’ve been on trips in the past. They say a certain time to be back, but they never actually leave until everyone is accounted for on the bus.”

“Right? But this isn’t like school, we’re adults. It’s university. So they don’t fuck around when it comes to this stuff, I guess.” you respond. He shakes his head though, disregarding your statement.

“I went on a trip with my old university and they waited for a bunch of mature students who were late back to the bus. Like, thirty minutes late. They don’t leave students behind on trips, ever. Unless…”

“Unless?”

“Guess what that useless excuse for an educator just told me.” Megumi smirks. You shake your head, giving up on his little game before you even begin. You see his eyes roll over white before he leans in closer to you across the table, his chest almost spilling his milkshake over. “Apparently I sent a text to those stupid ugly girls telling them that we caught a ride home from Toji. And that idiot believed them.”

“Did you?”

“What?”

“Did you text them, Megumi? Because this seems like something you’d definitely do to try and fuck with me.”

“Don’t be dense. I’m not fucking with you anymore, am I? If I was fucking with you I would have left you here alone.” he assures you. You nod, finding his explanation believable enough to dispel any doubt. You’re at least glad he isn’t angry with you for doubting him; he’s given you more than enough reasons to, after all. “How was your call with Gojo?”

“It’s a no-go,” you smile. You even manage to coax a little smirk out of Megumi as well. “He’s out of town, busy. And I assume a charming boy such as yourself doesn’t have any friends who could get us.”

“I assume the girl who pissed herself at Independent doesn’t have any friends either.” he bites back. He scrunches his eyes as soon as the words leave his mouth. Regret, you deduce. You look away from him to stop yourself from crying, and you know he won’t apologise to you for saying it.

Keep it together. Don’t let him see you cry.

“Call your parents.” Megumi demands.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“I said no. I’m not fucking talking to them and you’re not going to bully me into doing it. Especially after what you just said. I cannot believe I thought—”

“Don’t fucking start. Sorry, alright? Just slipped out.” he mumbles, and you huff out a sigh. It’s a huge deal, honestly. You didn’t think he was capable of apologising. Hell, you didn’t even know he knew the word sorry. You shake your head, dismissing him and his bullshit as you try and come to terms with your situation. “No Toji or Gojo or bus coming back. No cab. No friends. What’s left, O’Keeffe?”

“I- Toji suggested something but I said no to that, too.” you hesitate to tell him. He looks at you, curiously, waiting for you to elaborate. A scoff escapes you as you recall the idea and debate on telling him or not. It can’t hurt to mention it, you suppose. “A hotel.”

“He’s smart sometimes, I’ll give him that. Why did you say no?”

“I don’t want to stay here any longer than necessary with you, let alone share a room.” you tell him bluntly, and he laughs at your brazenness. He catches himself, though, his face returning to the stoic expression it’s used to. He can’t let you think he finds you funny.

“Why would we share? The rooms will be dirt cheap. It might not be what you want to hear, but, we’re stuck here for tonight at least.” he tells you. And unfortunately, you’re starting to think he’s right. You’re shit out of luck. There’s no escape from him and you are stranded in town until someone can come and get you both. Of course, the reasonable thing to do would be to call your parents and just get over your petty grudge and talk to them. But it wasn’t a viable option.

You can’t.

You just can’t.

You pull your laptop out of your bag and connect with the hotspot on your phone. Megumi is squinting incredulously. As if you’re the type to come up with evil plots and schemes.

“I’m looking up hotels in town, apparently there’s only three. Do you want to call?” you wonder. He grabs your laptop and turns it to face him, dialling the number for the first hotel. You start calling the second and it rings for an awfully long time.

“This one’s fully booked, give me the last one.” he demands, you turn your screen for him to see and he attempts the next number.

“Oh hello, I was wondering if you had any rooms available for—”

You’re cut off by the most unwelcome answer you could have possibly imagined. The look on Megumi’s face is telling you that he doesn’t have a much better answer for you either. His teeth are grinding and his face is almost completely red. Instead of one bulging forehead vein you think you can see three of them.

“No rooms.”

Fuck.

“I— We’ll take it. Is it okay if we pay on site? I’m not sure how many days… Yeah, sure. That’s fine, uh, Fushiguro for the booking, I guess. Thanks so much.” you sigh, hanging up the phone.

“Nice one, O’Keeffe. And you’re putting it in my name so Toji has to pay, real smart. At least we’ll have our rooms for the night and we can get some—”

“Our room.” you correct him.

“What?”

“They only had one fucking room available for us.”

“No.”

“It’s two double beds so it’s not like we’re sharing. Listen, I’m not thrilled about it either, Megumi.” you snipe at him, unwilling to tolerate his attitude when you’re already in a foul mood.

“If you weren’t being such a petty, stuck up, bitch, your parents could have—”

“You can eat shit along with my parents. Fuck this,” you moan, standing to your feet and heading for the exit. You’re quickly stabbing the letters of the address into Google Maps so you can walk your way to your hotel.

Megumi knows he’s going to have to catch up with you at some point, but he’s stubborn, unable to admit defeat or appear weak.

But he is at fault for everything. He is the one that got you both into this mess and he is the one that keeps pushing your fucking buttons.

He does get up, though. It takes him a while to see you when he gets outside into the pouring rain. But when he does, it doesn’t take long to reach you. And almost as if to protect his fragile masculinity, he deems it necessary to overtake you like he’s leading the way. Guiding you to safety.

He doesn’t even know where he’s going, looking over his shoulder every few seconds to make sure he’s going the right way. He stops at an intersection looking completely out of his depth. You don’t help him, if he’s so insistent on leading the way then he can take it from here.

You don’t mind catching hypothermia in pursuit of proving a petty point.

His eyes wander around. And suddenly they settle. He knows he’s lost and clueless about what he’s doing. But ever the bullshitter, he comes up with a valid excuse for a pause in the journey.

“Should we get some clothes?” he asks. You scrunch your face up, not understanding why such a random question left his lips. He points in the direction of a department store, hoping to clarify his reasoning. “We only have what we came in and we’re drenched. I hope you aren’t planning on sleeping naked since we’re sharing a room.”

You suppose he has a point.

“Fine. Let’s go, I’m not buying your shit, though.”

“Bank of Toji, O’Keeffe. A pair of piece of shit credit card kids stranded in the middle of nowhere. Classic.”

“I’m not a piece of shit credit card kid, Megumi.” you inform him.

“Oh yeah? Who’s paying for that cosy little love den again. You and Yuuji must be working so hard to pay the bills.”

That shuts you up fairly quickly. Maybe he’s right. Are you really nothing but a trust fund baby? A useless girl who can’t get by without help from her parents. You never thought about it before, but it seems that way the more you think about it.

They’re the only reason you’re able to spend as much as you want at the drop of a hat.

They’re the only reason you have a nice house to live in instead of a gross little shoebox dorm room while you’re studying.

Megumi is a lot of things. A lot of awful things you couldn’t even begin to list. But it’s not often that he lies. And it’s even rarer that he’s wrong.

The store is nothing special. It’s nice and cheap which makes you feel real good inside. You may be spending your parents’ money, but at least it isn’t anything for them to call you up about.

You pick out a few outfits and some pyjamas to wear in the hotel room. You look over one of the clothes rails and see Megumi flirting with one of the shop assistants.

You feel hot all of a sudden. Angry. Why is he fucking flirting with her? Is now really the time to be doing this? He’s acting like everything is fine. Normal. Like you aren’t stuck here for however long.

You aren’t sure why, but something snaps in you. Before you can even ask yourself if it’s a good idea you’re marching up towards the girl and Megumi, rudely intercepting their conversation.

“I’m done buying stuff. Have you got everything?” you ask him.

“Oh, I’m sorry I didn’t— Is this your girlfriend?” she asks. You scoff quickly and Megumi laughs at her assumption.

“Long story. Here, babe,” he smirks as he holds her hand and pulls a biro out of his back pocket. He scribbles his phone number on the top of her hand and winks at her. “Might be in town for a few days, call me up if you wanna have some fun.”

“Ugh.” you mutter, earning an elbow in the ribs from him.

“O-Okay, Megumi. I’ll call you. And nice to meet you, uh—”

“Bye.” you speak, assuming she was about to ask your name. You had no intention of giving it to her and watching them drool over each other for a second longer. “Not very professional of you, is it? Flirting with customers?” you tell her as you walk towards the checkout counter. She scoffs lightly, looking at Megumi for reassurance.

He does nothing but laugh, shrugging his shoulders as he walks after you. He’s silent for a while as he watches the woman at the counter ring up your purchases. You’ve got a face like thunder and he can’t even begin to describe how amused he feels. He waits for you to pick up your shopping bags before putting his own clothes down and waiting for the same service.

“What’s wrong with your face?” he asks you.

“Excuse me?”

“You’re pissed. Clearly. But I’ve never seen you look like that before. Is it…”

“Don’t you dare.”

“Jealousy?”

“You’re a fucking idiot. I’m not jealous. I don’t want you bringing girls back to our hotel room and listening to you cum in thirty seconds and think you’re impressive.”

“Right.”

He picks up his bags and heads for the exit. You know he’s winding you up on purpose when he winks at the girl again. It’s like he’s pouring salt and vinegar into a wound just to see how long it will take you to scream. You’re already fragile. Vulnerable. Lonely. He’s treating you as if you’re some social experiment to see how much he can get away with. He knows it’s a lot. He’s put you through a lot already.

What else is left?

—

You finally make it to the hotel.

Megumi had given in and decided to let you show him the way while he attempted to get through to his dad again. It took a few calls until he answered. It wasn’t anything out of the ordinary either, both of them yelling and getting angry at each other until they finally got down to what they needed to talk about.

Paying the front desk.

He hands the phone to the man checking you in while he takes down his card details.

“Could you speak up, sir? It’s a little loud.” he requests.

“I said that earlier. Where the fuck is he?” Megumi wonders, facing you. You shrug your shoulders, assuming he didn’t actually expect you to answer.

How are you meant to know? It’s not like you're in cahoots with Toji just because he has an attentive interest in you and your wellbeing.

Megumi might annoy the life out of you and make your life hell at any opportunity, but you’re not the type of girl to keep information from him just to get the upper hand.

“All sorted. We’ve got his details, enjoy your stay.”

“Can I ask why it’s so busy? I noticed a lot of uh… interesting clothes at the store. And this was the only hotel with a room, is there a reason?” you ask him.

“It’s our big town festival this weekend. The anniversary of its founding. We get dressed up in gaudy clothes. Hold a parade. A beach party. Don’t be fooled by the weather, it’ll be scorching for the parade.”

“We need the key to the room.” Megumi states, bluntly. Clearly not giving two shits about the upcoming festival. The man nods and holds the key out to him.

“There’s a shop around the corner that sell condoms and lube.” he tells you both.

“He’s NOT my fucking boyfriend!” you yell, storming towards the stairs with your bags. Megumi laughs, again, saying goodbye to the receptionist as he follows after you. “The fuck do I look like? As if I’d date someone like him.” you mumble to yourself.

“You’re gonna hurt my feelings.” Megumi teases.

You ignore him, picking up the pace and running up the stairs so you can escape him. You know you need him to unlock the door to the room, but you need at least a few seconds of peace from him.

You can’t stand it.

You can’t stand him.

He doesn’t chase you. He doesn’t pester you anymore. You rest your back against the wall beside the door to your room as you wait for him. You’re almost at your breaking point. You can feel it brewing. Your chest is aching and your mouth is filling with water. You can even feel your jaw begin to ache.

What could you have done to deserve this?

Megumi arrives and doesn’t say a word. You’re thankful. You aren’t sure if he’s doing it for his benefit or yours. Does he know if he prods at your sensitive skin any more you’ll crumble to dust?

The room is quaint. You take the bed closest to the bathroom; leaving the one nearest to the window to him. Both of you drop your bags on each of your beds. He’s pacing around a little while you sit on the mattress.

Looking around is getting to you.

This is real.

You’re really stuck in a fucking hotel room with Megumi Fushiguro. What would Yuuji think if he could see you now? What were you fucking thinking by giving him the benefit of the doubt? Maybe you’d have been better off if you let those girls bully you on the coach and harass you in the art gallery.

At least you’d be on your way home.

At least you wouldn’t be stuck with him.

The spiralling thoughts in your mind are the final straw. You burst into tears and you couldn’t be anymore humiliated if you tried. Megumi looks over his shoulder to see you sobbing.

He feels awkward.

He’s not used to seeing anyone get emotional, let alone you. He’s only seen you like this because of him. And he can’t deny that this is his fault as well.

So, why can’t he find it in him to feel bad?

He goes in the bathroom and picks up some toilet roll for you. He doesn’t hand it to you, though. He just throws it at you. It makes you laugh a little. It’s just so him. You have to admit despite his obscure approach, he’s really been trying with you since the coach trip. You get yourself a handful of toilet roll and start dabbing it at your cheeks.

“Why did you do this to me, Megumi?” you ask so quietly it’s barely audible. “You keep fucking with me. And… this was without trying. Or was it planned?”

“Shut up. What good is this doing, huh? We’re in this, now, there isn’t shit we can do about it so suck it up.”

“You walked out of the aquarium and fucked everything up. You said you were going to piss but you were outside on the phone! Who was it? Tell me!”

“I won’t tell you again, princess. No business of yours so shut your fucking mouth.”

“It is my business when you get me into a situation like this because of it. You made this happen. And now you’re planning fucking dates and doing all that you can to make this experience even more miserable than it already is!” you yell, eyes and nose running quicker than you can keep up with. You must look a total mess and it’s making you even more embarrassed. It’s just more ammunition to fuel him with, more he can hold over your head and make you feel shit for.

“Who I’m on the phone with is my business. Who I go on dates with is my fucking business. Stop being a bitch. Are you on your fucking period? You’re so quick to shut down any chance of you being my girlfriend but you’re acting like you are since you’re being a nagging cunt.”

“Megumi—”

“Shut up.”

“Please… Please, don’t bring her back here.” you beg quietly. It makes him huff in annoyance as he turns away from you. You see him shaking as he grabs hold of the wooden dressing table as he tries to stabilise himself. “You at least owe me that, Megumi. You’ve done so many fucked up things. Unforgivable things, but here we are. I’m… I’m sobbing in a hotel room that I’m sharing with you. I’ve never asked you for anything other than to stop bullying me. But please, please don’t bring her here.”

You see his eyes screw shut in the mirror. He’s biting his lower lip as he thinks everything through.

You’re right.

He knows you’re right.

There’s an awful lot that he’s done to you and you’ve forgiven him without him even saying sorry. It shows how big of a person you are. How kind and sweet and genuine you are.

But he doesn’t care.

He just doesn’t fucking care.

Why does he get such a kick out of making you suffer? There’s something so enthralling and hypnotic about you that he can’t get over. You’re always in his fucking head and even seeing you bawl your eyes out he can’t find it in him to feel bad.

“FUCK!” he shouts, angrily trudging over to his bed to pick up one of the bags.

It’s the bag he held up earlier outside of the aquarium when you finally found each other. You never got a chance to ask what was in it. It had the logo for the aquarium on it, but you were too distraught and angry to question what he had purchased.

“Here.” he speaks, hurtling the bag towards you. You duck out of the way before it can hit you.

“Megumi!” you yell back, wiping your tears with your hands as your eyes widen in anger at him. He’s not paying attention though. Searching through his pockets for a cigarette and heading towards the exit.

“Goin’ for a smoke. Sick of the sight of your miserable fuckin’ face.” he tells you, slamming the door behind him. You throw yourself backwards so that your head is in the pillows. You’ve never felt so alone as you practically wail into the desolate hotel room.

What you’d give to have Toji pick you up right now and take you home.

To tell Megumi off for being so cruel to you again. Or even just to have Yuuji hold you in his arms. You’d kill to hear his voice. Hell. You’d even settle for a text at this point.

Why is he avoiding you?

You manage to calm yourself down the longer Megumi is gone from the room.

Deep breaths. One. Two. Three. Four.

You get up and look at yourself in the mirror. You’re thankful you packed some of your makeup into your tote bag for emergencies. Your face is a mess, you look like you’ve just been dumped on your wedding day.

You decide to go to the bathroom to rinse it off completely. The cold water splashing on your face almost stops your heart. But once your face is clear, you dab the water dripping down with a towel.

As you steady your breathing, you run your fingers through your hair once you leave the bathroom. The bag that Megumi tossed at you catches your eye. He threw it like it was yours. But you didn’t get anything from the aquarium. You’re approaching it like it’s a fucking bomb. He’s probably put insects in it to bite you or filled it with something else equally disgusting.

But you can’t help having a curious nature.

The bag is light when you pick it up. A single tear rolls down your face when you look inside.

“Oh, Megumi…” you sigh.

It’s the shark. The shark plushie from the aquarium you thought was so adorable. It doesn’t excuse everything he’s done. Anything he’s done, actually.

It certainly isn’t worth being late for the bus.

It isn’t worth you being stuck in this hotel room. It didn’t excuse everything he’d done and how he treated you in the past. But you can’t help but wonder how different things could be if he had shown this side of him from the start.

You get cosy in bed and cuddle your shark. You decide to name him Gerald. He’s softer than you remember him being in the gift shop, and that is by no means a complaint. It’s such a nice feeling to have something so adorable and soft to hold.

There is a split second you think your heart might have actually stopped when you hear Megumi open the door. You jump out of your skin but remain comfortable lying under the covers of your bed. He walks in, chuckling, when he sees you. He shakes his hand through his hair, messy water droplets falling from the ends.

“Thank you for Gerald, I love him.”

“S’not a gift, you owe me for him,” he tells you. At that, you sit up. Wide eyed and humiliated that you actually thought he’d do something so nice for you. You set down Gerald and open up the quilt to go and get your purse. “It was a joke. Gerald, huh?”

“Yeah, I don’t know. People names on animals is funny, I guess.” you answer. He nods lazily, like he isn’t fully committing to agreeing with your opinion. He throws his jacket to the ground and sits on top of his own bed. “Why did you do this for me?”

“I saw you left him when I went back to find you.” he speaks, “I- you seemed like you really wanted it so I just got it for you. That’s it. You’re welcome.” he finishes, leaning backwards on his elbows as he stares you down. It’s incredible how uneasy you can feel in such an instant whenever those intimidating green eyes study you.

It’s like you forget how to breathe.

How to be.

How should you act when you’re worrying whether or not every action you take may be used against you?

“I’d… look, I have a lot of thoughts and I just can’t say them without feeling stupid.”

“I don’t think you’re stupid, Megumi. You’re just a dick.” you laugh, and he laughs back. You aren’t wrong. “I’m scared of you, I don’t think I’ll ever get over that feeling with you. You’re compelling. Forceful. Dominant. It scares me, but getting me a plushie… standing up for me with those girls… colouring a fucking kids book in with me. They’re such kind, human things I didn’t expect you to be capable of.”

“Human? Do you think I’m a monster?”

“Sometimes. Most of the time, Megumi. You became a monster under my bed that kept me up at night.” you tell him. He shakes his head at that. You can’t decipher whether it’s self-reflection or disregard of your statement. Maybe he thinks you’re just being dramatic. “I don’t know what we are right now but I’d never think you’re stupid. So, if there’s anything you want to talk to me about or tell me I won’t… I won’t judge you for it. But if you want to keep it to yourself that’s fine too. Thanks for giving me a gift.”

“The girl from the store sent me a text. She asked if I want to go on a date tonight.” he admits. The admission takes you aback slightly, not expecting that to be the thought he was wanting to speak of.

“O-Oh.”

“I’m not bringing her back here. You’re right, I owe you that much. And I… I told her I can’t go on a date, ever.”

“Why?”

“’Cause it’s my fault we’re stuck here so I shouldn’t leave you alone, right? You’re fucking me up, O’Keeffe. Got me growin’ a fucking conscience suddenly.” he complains, but it makes you smile.

“I can look after myself, you know. Don’t let me stand in the way of you getting a nut.” you smile. He shakes his head putting another cigarette between his lips. He only left the room to smoke because he wanted space and to give you the same, not because it’s a rule of the hotel. There’s even an ashtray on his bedside table for him.

“Don’t care if you can or not. I don’t want to see her, anyway. I wanna go out with you.” he tells you.

“I’m sorry?”

“Get ready. The receptionist told me there’s a bowling alley nearby, ‘m not sulking in this shit hole room all night so get dressed.”

—

He’s a little jealous that he didn’t think of your genius idea of buying a raincoat. He did buy an umbrella, though, not that it did much to protect his new clothes or his hair. The bowling alley is a fifteen-minute walk away from the hotel. You’re glad you had opted to wear your favourite trainers instead of a pair of heels for your trip. Walking around today had been a breeze. And you were both hoping this would be the type of bowling alley that allows you to wear your own shoes.

You’ve always enjoyed places like this. Arcades that are dark with neon lighting. You look over to the lanes while Megumi pays for both of you and see an assortment of neon-coloured pins.

“Could we have a lane with pink pins, please?” you ask, sweetly. Megumi looks up from the card machine to grimace at you. But the man nods kindly, agreeing to your request.

You’re guided to the furthest lane away, right next to the wall. The desire to take a few pictures is too strong to ignore. Megumi scoffs but doesn’t comment. You get a few snaps of him while he’s entering your names into the system. It shocks you that he’s letting you go first. There might be a gentlemanly side to him, after all.

“Do you need the sides up?” he asks, patronisingly.

“Don’t be a dick about it. Yes, please.” you respond. He rolls his eyes but does as you ask. The sides come up for you to take your turn, and they’ll retreat for his. “Ah this is so cool! I didn’t know lanes could do this now.”

“Hurry up and take your turn. Does princess need a pink ball to match her pink pins?” he questions. Whenever you bowl, you always choose the lightest weight. Either a six or an eight. There’s only an eight here and it’s a hideous lime green colour. But it’s fine. You watch the ball zig zag off the sides before knocking down seven pins. “Not bad.” he hums. You saunter back to the bowling balls and pick up another. You only manage to hit one pin, but it’s one more than you had expected.

“You’re up, Fushiguro. See if you can beat that.” you tease, sticking your tongue out.

He swaggers over to the machine with as much confidence as an A-lister. He picks up the heaviest, pink, ball with ease. He raises his eyebrows twice in quick succession, like he’s gloating he got to use a pink ball and you didn’t. He poses triumphantly before he’s even rolled the ball. Like he’s some sort of fucking pro.

The ball flies from his hand and skids down the lane quicker than you can blink. It doesn’t roll until it connects with the centre pin. One of his legs is dramatically behind the other, a position he chooses to hold until he sees each and every pin knock down.

Megumi turns around and grins at you, smirking with pride and the state of shock your face is currently displaying. You point to the lane and then back to him as your words get jumbled in your mouth. He lazily points back at you, a fake look of contemplation overcoming him.

“So, out of curiosity, do you think I beat that?” he teases. He takes a seat and waits for you to take your next turn, casually looking through the drinks menu that had been left for you both to peruse.

“Are you some sort of bowling prodigy?”

“Nah.”

That’s it. That’s all he’s giving you as he orders himself a beer on the screen menu. He orders a drink for you, too, though he doesn’t tell you that. You take your turn again and manage to somehow get a spare.

By the time your drinks come he’s taking his next turn. You’re surprised that he ordered you a strawberry and lime cider, but it isn’t unwelcome. Maybe he’s trying to get you drunk so he wins even easier than he already is. He comes back, swigging his beer and silently gloating about his second strike of the evening.

“Thanks for the drink.” you smile. He nods and he drinks, his Adam’s apple bobbing dramatically with each glug of his beer. “Are those strikes just luck, then?”

“Does it matter?”

“A little, I guess. Did you just bring me here so you could feel superior?”

“Take your fuckin’ turn. You need to get it into that thick head of yours that not everything I do is about you.” he speaks sternly. It feels like you’re five years old being scolded by your parents. You tuck your hair behind your ears and get up to bowl again. You’re elated when your ball zig zags perfectly enough to earn a strike. It fills you with false confidence, a belief that you might actually be able to keep up with Megumi.

You sit and sip your drink as you watch him take another turn. He lets his head loll backwards as he exhales in annoyance.

“Unlucky.” you mock, as he cranes his head to face you. A split. He manages to get two out of the three pins left standing. You wonder for a second if he might have done it on purpose to placate you, and then you remember who you’re dealing with.

As tense as the atmosphere seems to be between the two of you, you’re managing to make fun for yourself. The music is loud, something you’d hear in a nightclub. You can’t help but shake your hips whenever you get up to roll. You drink your cider a little quicker than intended and you start ordering more. They go down smoother than water and your turns become messier. It’s going to be an easy win for Megumi, but it doesn’t stop either of you trying.

“Let’s go again!” you yell before gasping when you realise what song is playing. Love Myself, by Hailee Steinfeld. “I LOVE ME! GONNA LOVE MY—”

“That’s enough,” Megumi interrupts as he yanks you away from the lane. He’s holding your hand impossibly tight, guiding you in the direction of the exit. You can tell he’s embarrassed but your tipsy mind decides it’s a good idea to keep pushing his buttons anyway.

“Aw, Megs, don’tcha wanna teach me how to bowl? Since you’re such an expert?”

“I- I don’t want to do that. Shut up, we’re going home.”

“I wish we were going home. You fucking idiot. Letting us get stranded here because you had such an important fucking phone call that’s such a big God damn secret.”

“Oh for crying out fucking loud.” he says, stopping in the middle of an alleyway he decided to take to save time. “You’re so lucky you’re you right now, you have no fucking idea.”

“W-What does that mean?”

“I hate you. I hate you nagging and bitching in my ear constantly. But most of all I hate how pathetically weak you are. I could leave you here, you know. In the middle of this shady alley to let whatever piece of shit do whatever the hell he wants with you. And I’d sleep just fine. Do you understand? I despise you.”

“But you’ve been so—”

“So nice? The only reason I’m not gonna do that is because you’re you. Let me say it simply enough for your stupid little mind to understand. I don’t wanna deal with your family, my family, Gojo, and fucking Yuuji jumping down my neck because I left a spoilt bitch to rot in the middle of nowhere.”

“You’ll never change, will you? Why do you keep doing this to me?”

“Enough.” he hisses, clenching your wrist and pulling you out of the dingy alleyway and back onto the main roads. The streetlights glittering as rain lashes down across the yellow bulbs. You’re crying, again. You probably would have been able to hold it together if you were in your own sober mind.

How could you be so stupid? After what he did to you last time there was alcohol involved, you’re such an idiot for letting your guard down for a second around him. Granted, he didn’t do anything particularly evil to you. But he definitely has a way with words that make you feel like you’re a speck of dust in the grand scheme of the universe.

You’re nothing.

—

He shoves you into the hotel room ahead of him and slams the door behind himself. The hideous flickering fluorescent lights are making you feel sick. You’re wobbling on your feet without Megumi guiding and supporting you. You begin to lean, to slope. Your feet are staggering until finally you collapse onto the ground.

“You are a fucking embarrassment. Get up. You need to sleep this off.” he demands. You get onto your hands and knees and start crawling towards your shopping bags searching for your pyjamas. He watches as you feebly rifle through them before he gets sick and helps you. He pulls out the purple fluffy vest and shorts you purchased and throws them in your face. “I didn’t have you down as being such a lightweight. It’s hard to watch, should be ashamed of yourself.”

“Didn’t use—”

“Huh?”

“Didn’t used to be, Megumi… I haven’t touched a drop since you…”

You begin to sob as you think about what a fool you’re making of yourself in front of your bully. It humbles him, though, hearing the reason you couldn’t hold your alcohol is another thing that’s down to him. He almost feels sorry for you. It’s enough for him to help you to your feet and lead you into the bathroom to get dressed in private.

“Fuck!” you yell, knocking over a multitude of complimentary bathroom products as you stumble to the ground yet again. Megumi rushes in to see you on the floor, still fully dressed and struggling to get your clothes off. You’re sobbing, now, face shining with sticky tears and regrets. “Megumi, I can’t—”

“Alright.” he picks up your pyjamas and sits on the ground with you, pulling you between his legs. Your shirt is lifted over your head for you before he replaces it with your new soft vest. “Bra on or off?” he questions.

“O-Off, please.” you answer. His hands slip under your vest as he unhooks it. He pulls down the straps and reaches around your front and under your clothes again. It’s awkward. Intimate. But he doesn’t cop a feel. He’s being a genuine help to you. Yanking away your black bra and tossing it aside. “Thank y-you.”

He stands up and helps you to your feet as well. You’re forcibly turned to face him as he undoes the button on your jeans and pulls down the zipper. He turns you again to pull them down to your ankles.

“Do you sleep with your panties on or off?”

“Um, I—”

“I won’t look, just want you to get ready for bed.”

“Off…” you sigh, nervously. You look over your shoulder and see him nod. He keeps his gazed fixed on the bathroom tiles as he hooks his fingers into your simple black thong. They’re pulled down so you can step out of them and into the purple shorts. You wiggle your hips so he can put them onto you comfortably. You’ve still got socks on. You’d managed to force your trainers off when you fell over next to your bed, but who knows if you were able to keep them together.

Megumi stands up and throws you over his shoulder, carrying you to your bed and throwing you onto the mattress. He takes your socks off for you and tucks them into your trainers, leaving the beside the door to the hotel for you to find tomorrow.

“Under the covers.” he instructs, and you obey.

“Why are you so… it’s like you’re two different people.”

He ignores you, tucking you in until you look comfy enough. You’re cuddling Gerald and he hates the way his heart flutters when he sees how sweet you look with the gift that he got you. What the hell was he thinking? He goes to the bathroom and comes back with a glass of water, setting it on your side table in case you need it during the night.

“Megs, I’ve got some aspirin in my tote. Would you mind?”

He gets it for you and throws it your way. It hits off the glass, spilling a little water but nothing too damaging. Megumi starts to undress, uncaring of your presence. He bought himself a pair of sweatpants and a plain white t-shirt to sleep in. He walks around, turning out all of the lights before he gets into his own bed.

“’m not tired.” you tell him.

“You will be. Lie there and be quiet ‘til you fall asleep.” he tells you, not that he thought you’d listen to a word he had to say.

“Can we talk until we sleep?”

“No.”

“I wanna know why you’re so nice to me one minute and awful to me the next. Please, tell me why?” you request. He just grunts, though, not liking the thought of having to listen to you drone on until you pass out.

“You annoy me.” he says simply. It’s clear it isn’t a good enough answer when he’s rewarded with silence. But it’s the truth. You do annoy him. Like nobody else ever has before. “You piss me off and you make me feel angry. But you’re nice so it fucks me up, alright? I don’t know how to act around you because you make me feel too many things.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Drop it.”

You wrack your brains for something else to talk to him about. You’re sure talking about yourself isn’t a good idea, and talking about him might be even worse. Anything to do with Toji has the potential for an all-out war in the hotel room. You think asking about his history with Yuuji might be a sore subject, too.

“How come you’re so good at bowling?” it’s perfect. It’s about him but it’s not a heavy subject that can trigger him into another fit of abuse and rage. And it’s a valid question, too, considering he just schooled you at the bowling alley. He rolls onto his side to face you, and you do the same. He can see Gerald peeking out of the duvet and grins.

“Practice. Used to skip school a lot and play at the arcade.”

“Ever the bad boy, ‘Gumi.”

“Cut that shit out right now. I hate that nickname.” he demands. It makes you laugh knowing four letters has such a heated reaction from him. “Wasn’t doing it to be bad, just didn’t like school. Or people.”

“Were you… bullied? Or something?”

“No. Just didn’t care about shit. Toji was in and out and I was just angry about it. And I lost my mother and didn’t really have anyone to— Why am I telling you this? Stop asking me dumb shit.”

It’s the first time you’ve heard Megumi even come close to opening up about his mother. When you hear the vulnerability in his truth, you can almost forgive him for taking his anger with the world out on you. Toji is incredible to you, but the same can’t be said for his son. To abandon him right after he lost his mother is unforgivable. Of course he’s fucked up like this. He had nothing and no one. Not a shoulder to cry on or a word to say. Why would he care about his education or school when nothing in the world gave any care for him?

“Tsumiki isn’t your real sister, is she? So how did she—”

“Her mother and my father had a thing after mine died. So she’s not technically any relation of mine but we were all a family, only for a little bit. But after our parents ran off, that’s when Gojo took us in.”

“Wait, what? Gojo, as in—”

“Yeah, Satoru Gojo. That’s why I was surprised he was giving you a ride home that day after class. He’s like my weird other dad. That’s why him and Toji hate each other. Toji’s possessive and I’m his. But Gojo is the one who actually raised me most of my life.”

“Fuck. That’s so… fucked. Seriously heavy drama. Plus, I can’t imagine Gojo as a father. He’s annoying as hell and so immature.”

“He is. But he was good to us.”

You roll away and face the wall, happy with your answers and the conversation you’ve had. Your eyes are feeling heavier, watering with desperation to sleep. Yawns evade your lips and it makes Megumi chuckle. When your mouth is closed your teeth begin to chatter. Maybe shorts and vest wasn’t the best idea for sleepwear given the current weather conditions.

Despite all your best efforts to conceal the volume of your teeth, Megumi hears them. He doesn’t react, though. Not straight away at least. He isn’t sure if he wants to get involved. The worry of saying something pointless swirls through his head. What could he say, anyway? It’s not like he could do anything to make it better.

“You’re cold.” he says, plainly. He curses himself immediately. Why did he state it as a fact as if you aren’t already fully fucking aware of what temperature your body is at? You’re covered head to toe in goosebumps and worried you might actually freeze into a statue.

“Uhm, I… a little.” you confess, weakly. He clears his throat. His mouth is moving faster than his brain can tell him to shut up. It’s a mistake. A colossal mistake he needs to stop himself from making. But he can’t. The words are already pouring out. What the fuck is wrong with him?

“We, uh, do you want to get in? With me. Share body heat until you warm up.”

It shocks you, significantly so. He’s offering to spoon with you. What would Yuuji think? What would anyone think, actually? What do you think?

You think it’s absolutely ridiculous.

You’re constantly at each other’s throats and now he’s offering you comfort and warmth in such an intimate way. Yuuji wouldn’t be happy. Would any man be happy about their girlfriend getting into bed with someone else? No matter how innocent it is. You know he wouldn’t like it.

But you know it’s innocent. You don’t want anything from Megumi. Just…

“Okay.” you whisper. His eyes bulge, he hadn’t been expecting you to agree to it. He opens his duvet up for you. You pick up Gerald and rush into bed with him. Your body moulds against his and you immediately feel better. He’s so warm. You’re cuddling Gerald and his arms are wrapped around your waist as he holds you close, attempting to transfer as much as his body heat as he can onto you.

“Feel better?” he mutters after around ten minutes. You nod, and he holds you even tighter.

“I feel your… your dick is hard, Megumi.” you groan back, he snickers, uncaring.

“I know. Sorry, your ass keeps grinding against it. Just ignore it ‘n go to sleep, princess.” he commands. You giggle back at him. It isn’t his fault. If anything it’s yours. You should have said no to getting into his bed. You shouldn’t be letting him hold you like this. How a lover should.

How Yuuji does.

It’s so wrong and inappropriate. But you’re so toasty and warm, you really don’t care.

“Sweet dreams, Megumi.”

“Night, O’Keeffe.”

—

© 2022 fuwushiguro | © 2024 rinhaler

Get Your Passport, 'Cause We Runnin' Off

CHAPTER SUMMARY : the day of the big trip has arrived, and you're stuck with your bully for the whole ride there. maybe he'll be nice for a change...

boyfriend!yuuji itadori x f!reader x bully!megumi fushiguro

WARNINGS : 18+, PG chapter tbh, daddy kink mention??, attempted/thwarted bullying.

WORDS : 3.9k

notes : every friday was a funny joke right guys? right?

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“Are you sure you don’t need a ride tomorrow?” Gojo queries as he helps fill your fridge and cupboards with food he picked up for you. It's his way of an apology without actually saying the pivotal words. He told Yuuji he’d look out for you, and he will keep his promise. A few groceries are bound to make him look good in both your eyes and the eyes of your boyfriend.

“Yeah I’m sure. Toji is picking me up from here and then there’s a coach to take us out of town for our field trip.” you inform him.

He offers a smirk and silences himself as he continues to empty the bags. It's a devious look, and you know he has something to say. You aren't sure if you even want to know, but there's just something so irritating about Satoru Gojo that makes you think you'll die if you don’t pry whatever it is out of him.

“Could the reason that you’re declining my offer be that I don’t have what Toji has?” he wonders. You quirk your eyebrow in confusion; hoping it will prompt him to continue. “I mean, Toji has a perfect doppelgänger, right? A mini me, closer to your age.”

“What are you implying, Gojo?” you speak, an accusatory tone bleaching your words.

“Do you… like Megumi?” he inquires.

You wish you never asked.

You can’t help but scoff at that. He couldn’t have found a more inappropriate tree to bark up. Like Megumi? You can barely even stomach looking at him. He’s evil incarnate and, quite frankly, you hate him. You’ve tried being nice to him. You’ve tried being cordial. There isn’t much you haven’t tried to make your life easier when it comes to Megumi, nothing works. So liking him is completely out of the question.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.” you laugh, helping him with the last of the shopping so that you can shoo him out quicker. He watches you frantically pick everything up and put it away, he can tell what you’re doing.

Did he touch a nerve?

“I’m with Yuuji,” you halt, a revolted look in your eye informing him of your now soured mood. “I mean, are you… stupid? Megumi has been bullying me since he moved into my art class, actually. So, maybe you should—”

“Alright, alright. No need to get defensive.” he snickers, pulling a lollipop out of his jacket pocket to suckle on as he heads towards the exit.

“I’m not being defensive. You’re being annoying.”

“Yeah? Well why is it that you’d rather take a ride with Papaguro over me. Is it him you like?” he pushes. It’s like he’s trying to make you snap.

“I. Have. A. Boyfriend!” you remind him, yet again, “Toji is hot, yes, in a friend’s dad calling you kiddo type of way. I guess. But he’s just that, a dad. He treats me like his own kid, and I have no interest in him passed being friends.” you explain, hoping to satiate Gojo’s curiosity enough to make him drop the subject.

“Do you call Yuuji daddy when you fuck? Giving off major kink vibes right now, sweetheart.”

“Get out.” you demand.

“Huh? Wait I was just—”

“Out! Gojo, out! You’re done. Get out of my house.” you tell him with a completely straight face. He holds his hands up in surrender as he makes his way towards your front door to leave. You’ve never met anyone as insufferable as Gojo in your life. Not even Megumi is as bad as him. You watch him from your door as you see him walk towards his car. When he opens the door, you decide to offer him some parting words. “Toji doesn’t like you very much, it’s like he doesn’t trust you. And I’m not sure if I do either.”

“Do you know what Toji did to his own kid? Abandoning him after his mother died?” he questions.

“Yeah. I do.”

“And you trust that guy and not me? Tch.” he sits behind the wheel and starts up his car. “Thought you were smarter than that, babe. I’ll see you around.”

The wait for Toji to pick you up is nauseating. It’s your first ride with both him and Megumi in the car. The younger Fushiguro had opted to catch a ride into school with his sister when he heard the news of Toji becoming your new chauffer. But with Tsumiki at work and zero desire to risk taking the bus and missing the coach, his dad became the safest option.

He sits in the back, much to your surprise, giving him the freedom to manspread across the backseat. Toji couldn’t coax many words out of you, your nerves were shot. Of course you said good morning and told him that you were doing okay, but that was as much as he could get.

“Be nice to her today, shit head.” Toji orders. He laughs when he feels Megumi kick the back of his seat in protest.

You shake it off. Everything. His voice, Megumi’s defiance. It all crumbles away as you look out of the window and pretend you’re a cloud.

“Looks like rain…” you sigh. They both hear you, but neither of them comments. The sky couldn’t be bluer and the sun is blaring down. Even the sidewalks are hot to the touch if you were to walk on them with bare feet.

“I’m serious Megumi. No funny shit today, best behaviour.”

“Tell him I’ve been nice to you so he shuts his fucking mouth. I’ve not been giving you any shit, have I?” Megumi speaks, kicking the back of your seat, eagerly awaiting a response. You sigh, and smile. But why should you keep covering for him? Today is going to be hellish whether he leaves you alone or not.

May as well get him in trouble with his darling dad.

“Are you counting when you locked us in the bathroom together? Or the other day when you when you called me an entitled bitch? Besides that, no. You’ve been so lovely to me ‘Gumi.” you hum, continuing to look out of the window.

The argument that breaks out between them goes completely over your head. The only thing on your mind is the sky. You wonder what colour the sky is where Yuuji is right now. Will he look at it and think of you, too? What is the sky like for him? Are you even on his mind? You wish he’d call, you long to hear his voice.

“Little bastard. I know you’re stupid, but I’m wonderin’ now if you’re fuckin’ deaf too. Because I’m sure I’ve told you to quit picking on her.” Toji scolds.

“I’ve done worse. Snitch.” he mutters under his breath.

“Listen to me, Megumi. Leave her the fuck alone. I won’t tell you again. She hasn’t done shit to you so stop making her life difficult for no God damn reason. Thought Yuuji was your friend, so what the fuck is all this for?” Toji continues as he keeps looking in the mirror so that he can stare at his son. It goes ignored as Megumi slumps back into himself and plays his music through his headphones loud enough to deafen the world around him. “Why didn’t you tell me about all that shit he did, princess?” he asks. You shrug your shoulders, ignoring him similarly to how Megumi was.

What a pair of brats.

He lets you both out of the car and stops you both from going anywhere before he says what he needs to say.

“You. Best fuckin’ behaviour or I’ll kick the shit out of you when you get home.” he warns his son as he ruffles his hair. He leaves right after that, heading in the direction of the coach eager to get a good seat. “And you, princess, call me if anything happens. I’ve got a meeting later but other than that I’m free. I’ll drive down to wherever the fuck you’re going and pick you up myself if he acts up.”

“I’ll be fine, Toji. Enjoy your day.”

“Yeah, you too.” he smiles, “Have a safe trip, kiddo.”

You feel yourself smiling and blood rushing to your face at the new nickname he’s bestowed upon you. It wouldn’t have made you as giddy if not for your meaningless conversation with Gojo.

Kiddo, huh? How embarrassing.

Maybe he was right about you having a daddy kink, after all.

You’ll have to let Yuuji know when you speak to him.

The coach is full of students and teachers, and most of the best seats are taken. Though, you do manage to find two unoccupied seats together, you manage to snag them before anyone else does.

Megumi is a few rows ahead of you on the opposite side of the bus; you catch him looking over his shoulders a few times at you. A furious deathly glare in his eyes, clearly still bitter over you ratting him out to Toji this morning.

He’s sitting alone, too, like he often does.

It surprises you that the mean girls of your class aren’t fawning over him.

And almost as if you summoned them, you feel a tug on your hair from behind. The redhead. The blonde traps you in by the window as she takes a seat beside you. Your heart is racing.

You’re sick of this.

Sick of them.

Sick of everything.

And having these two harass you the entire way is going to make this an even longer journey than it already is.

“Maybe we could ditch the group and have some cocktails.” the redhead jokes from behind you. “We had a great time last time we all got drunk together, right?” she snickers, earning a laugh from her friend in the process.

They become stiff and polite in an instant, and you don't even notice. You're too focused on using the window as your escape once more, imagining yourself as a drifting cloud with the hope it'll help you drown out their cruel words for the rest of the journey.

You gasp when you feel fingers digging into the fat of your underarm, gripping harshly enough to make you yelp.

“Get off me!” you shout.

You assume it's one of the girls trying to hurt you.

But you're wrong. Very wrong.

It's Megumi.

Is he trying to rescue you?

He tilts his head in the direction of the seats he's sitting in, telling you that he wants you to come with him. Noting that Megumi often chose words over actions, you decide he was the lesser of two evils and go with him. You pick up his backpack that he used to save your seat and get yourself comfortable beside the window.

“Is there a reason that you two keep bugging her? I asked you for one favour that you couldn’t even fucking follow. Are you trying to make up for it?” Megumi wonders. He speaks in hushed tones, but it’s still loud enough for you to hear.

“We’re doing it for you, babe! We know you hate her, and—”

“I’m not gonna fuck either of you, y’know? I was using you. And I didn’t fucking ask you to do anything for me after the club. Leave me and leave her alone.”

They both look at you with disdain. You can’t help but laugh, quickly covering your mouth and looking out of the window to disguise it. Their expressions are too funny not to laugh at.

They're acting as if you casted some witchcraft over Megumi to make him turn on them. If they had any common sense, they’d realise he is just an asshole who uses people to get what he wants. His thigh rests against yours when he sits back down. It’s nice, for some reason, feeling caged in by someone as threatening as Megumi.

He’s done this before in a way that sent fear directly to your heart. He did it to intimidate you.

But this… is different. It’s protective.

His head rests back against the tall back of the coach seats as he listens to his music. His head lolls to the side, and for whatever reason he decides to open his eyes.

And, of course, he’s greeted to the sight of the girls. His eyes roll and he proceeds to flip them off, clearly done with entertaining them for a second longer.

“Why did you do that, Megumi?” you ask, genuinely curious as to why he decided to save you from them.

“Shut up. Listenin’ to my music.” he hisses back.

You shrug your shoulders, knowing it’s best not to push him. You reach down to pick up your sturdy tote bag and pull out a colour by numbers book and a pack of felt tip pens.

You hear him scoff when you pull down the tray on the back of the seat in front of you so that you can start to colour in. It goes over your head, though, instead of making a biting remark you simply flip him off with a smile.

You hear him clear his throat and turn his body away from you. His eyes flutter closed, and you can only assume he’s trying to nap. It’s fair enough, you think, the coach trip is three hours long. Maybe he didn’t get much sleep last night.

He grunts as he turns back to face you. Though he seems a little disoriented. Does he realise he fell asleep? He’d been lightly snoring for ten minutes.

He looks down at your colouring book, grunting in disapproval as you continue doing your best to remain within the black lines.

“God I fucking hate you.” he mutters.

“Excuse me? You’re the one who dragged me over here!” you snap back.

“Yeah, that was before I knew you were the type of person to colour things in wrong. Why is the fucking dolphin purple?” he laughs a little as he speaks, clearly amused with himself as he berates your colouring skills.

“I like purple. It’s cute!”

“Give me a page, I’ll show you how it’s done.”

“Huh?”

“Give me a page.”

“You want me to rip out a page of my brand new—”

“I’m bored! Give me one to colour in properly.” he demands.

You flip through the pages heading towards the back. There are a few pages you want to do yourself, so you refrain from tearing them. He studies your face and the changes in expression as you see pages you like and want to keep for yourself. Until finally, you find a page with a lion in the wild. It’s so cute, you almost don’t want to give him it. But before you can change your mind, he snatches the book out of your hand and tears it out carefully himself.

“Hey!” you object, but it’s too late.

“Shut up. You’d only ruin it anyway. You know lions aren’t green, right?”

“You shut up.” you moan at him, returning to the page you’d been colouring and dipping your fingers into your pack of felt tips to get another pen. You barely blink before they’re missing from your hands and have been stolen by Megumi as he fishes around looking for a colour he needs. “Those are mine!”

“Heard of sharing?” he responds.

“You’re meant to ask if you can share.” you inform him. “You are the worst art student I’ve ever met. Don’t you have anything of your own?”

“Just shut up and colour your stupid purple dolphin, princess. Be a good girl and share your pens.” he teases as he begins to fill in the lions fur in a golden yellow.

You cannot stand how easily he can get into your head. Because now you are second guessing yourself and your decision. Maybe a purple dolphin wasn’t the brightest idea. But you do like purple! It takes more than a moment to calm the storm in your mind as you battle against his words and your feelings.

There are tons of artists who used colour ‘incorrectly’. Henri Matisse’s Femme au Chapeau springs to mind in a vividly clear image. You decide that you won’t stop there. Every single colour you are about to choose will be ‘wrong’. Why not make the sea pink and the trees blue? Maybe the sand will be red and the sky yellow? It’s your God damn colouring book that you paid for with your own money.

Colouring alone passes an entire hour. Megumi can’t believe his eyes when you show him your finished page. You have a prideful look on your face. And he nods. Is that… approval?

“I actually don’t hate it.” he tells you.

“Thanks. I think?”

He presents his own, looking slightly disappointed in comparison to yours. It’s wrong, but so very right. It’s fun and exciting to look at. His, on the other hand, is boring. It’s how it should be, but it isn’t as entertaining as yours.

“Give me another one, I wanna make it like yours.” he demands.

“A please wouldn’t hurt once in a while.”

He takes your book from you, looking for a page he’d like to colour in. His fingers hover over an elephant you had your eye on. You’re begging that he doesn’t tear it to colour in himself. You scrunch your eyes as you prepare to hear the all too recognisable sound of paper ripping. But instead, a simple ‘tch’ leaves his lips as he flips the page.

“Please may I take this page?” he asks, pointing at a bear in the woods. You nod, grateful that you have the elephant all to yourself. You both get to work, and you are both filled with glee as he begins to colour the friendly brown bear in a sky blue colour. You decide to colour your elephant red, although you regret it almost instantly. You hope you’ll be able to fix it.

“So, you still haven’t told me why you saved me from those girls.” you remind him, prodding for information as to why he decided to be your knight in shining armour.

“So?”

“Why did you rescue me?” you bluntly ask.

“Why did you rat me out to my dad this morning?” he questions back. It steals your breath for a moment, you have no idea what to say.

Why did you do it? You’re just mad at the world, you suppose. He hadn’t actually done anything particularly awful. Nothing to scare you or force a lump in your throat, so you had no reason to tell Toji. But you did. You’re suffering without Yuuji. Why should you be the only miserable one?

“Why did you call me ‘Gumi?” he torments with a sinister smirk on his face.

“I’m sorry about this morning. And, thank you for saving me. It’s been tough since Yuuji left, and—”

“I don’t care.” he tells you, pulling his headphones back over his ears as he starts to colour again. You shrug, assuming you won’t hear from him again until he finishes his up-and-coming masterpiece. “You piss me off, y’know?”

“Feelings mutual, trust me.”

“Listen. I’ve never had a friendship with a girl before. I just sleep with ‘em, normally. But you’re not a dumb cunt on legs like the rest. I wanted to try with you, for Yuuji, but you’re so fucking nosy.” he informs you.

“You’re disgusting. You’d known me all of two minutes and decided I was a good for nothing whore. I didn’t do anything to deserve any of the things you did to me.” you tell him, doing your best to keep your volume lowered so nobody around would be able to hear you.

“Maybe, maybe not. I don’t like talking about my personal life with anyone and you just… you know. Anyway. My dad’s a selfish asshole but he’s trying, and that’s because of you. So I suppose I should be thanking you for that, at least. And he wants me to be nice to you, so that’s why I saved you. I’m sure if you grew a fucking backbone you’d be able to handle them yourself.”

“I used to have a backbone until you started bullying me and destroyed my confidence.” you whined at him, earning a chuckle.

“I said I’m done with you, with that. I don’t know why I’m so desperately craving Toji’s approval but here we are. I can’t help but hate you, but I’ll have your back when it comes to those two. And… if I’m mean, I’m just fucking with you.”

“Shut up.”

“If my dad likes you there must be something off about you. He’s shady. Dangerous.” Megumi tells you. You shake your head, dismissing him.

“Toji is a big teddy bear. He doesn’t scare me, but you do.” you hum. “You’re fucked up and you know it. I don’t trust you as far as I can throw you and I’m sure it won’t be long before you’re making my life hell again.”

“Teddy bear? Ugh. You’re not fucking him, are you? My dad?” he fake gags as he thinks about it a little longer than he intended.

“Why do people keep asking if I have a crush on your dad?” you whisper to yourself. But, you’re a fool, because of course Megumi heard you. He raises an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by your accidental statement. “Gojo.”

“Fuck sake, those two. Ignore him, they’ll both do anything to one up each other.” Megumi huffs, a disapproving shake of his head punctuating his statement.

“So you go way back with Gojo too, like Yuuji? How do you know him?”

“See, nosy.” he scoffs. “A story for another day, maybe. Or just ask your new best friend Toji when we next carpool.” he mocks you, finally blocking you out with his headphones again as he pours all of his focus into his bear colouring.

It’s such a small world.

How have you found yourself falling into this tight knit circle of family and friends who all seem to know each other? It’s crazy that they are all so close and yet so far.

Megumi and Toji are father and son but they are practically worlds apart in terms of closeness. Yuuji hates Megumi like he thought he never could. The Fushiguro’s are both related to your ex Naoya. And Toji, Yuuji and Megumi all have a connection to Gojo.

Megumi mentioned that Toji is shady and dangerous, but you don’t get that vibe from him at all.

Gojo on the other hand has an incredibly seedy aura about him. He’s sweet to you, sure, but why? Just because Yuuji told him to be? Is anyone really that nice? It’s like he’s going above and beyond to make both you and Yuuji happy. You can’t tell how Megumi feels about the white haired menace, but you know that Toji loathes him.

Why?

What the fuck is going on with the men in your life?

© 2022 fuwushiguro | © 2024 rinhaler

Unmistakably Yours - G.S.

Synopsis. In which the strongest bends space and time - literally - after coming back from deatḣ, to do what he’s always wanted to do - you.

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, best friends to lovers, Satoru goes a little (very) INSANE, oral (fem receiving), fíngering, manga spoilers, use of jujutsu powers, unprotected, créampie, spitting, overstim, féral Satoru, heinous things, happy ending, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 4.5k

A/N. Yeahhh that poll was cooking up something devious heheh. Gege give me back my man.

Gojo Satoru was going to kill someone.

He was going to kill someone and it didn’t matter who. It didn’t matter how. It didn’t even matter if he had to haul his broken body - scarred and barely-healed - out of this stiff infirmary bed, because the great Gojo Satoru awoke and the world shook.

Because you weren’t here.

“Ah. The oh-so deadest one, I see you’re awake.” Satoru flinches at the sharp, exhausted drawl from his left. 

Slowly, he blinks away the haze in his aching eyes, desperately trying to adjust to the cold room. Shoko’s voice was too loud. The lights too bright. His waiting arms too empty - where were you? 

With a low hiss, Satoru’s body is moving before his mind, sitting up like a man possessed. Goosebumps prickle his skin as the thin blanket falls off his shoulders. Temples throbbing because the world was spinning and spinning and you-

“Calm down, Satoru.” Shoko sounds almost panicked now - as much as she could, anyway. Uselessly trying to push him back onto the mattress. “I don’t care if you’re the ‘strongest’. Sukuna did a number on you and you have to rest-”

“Where is she?”

---

It was the final nail on your coffin - that slight, steady rumble beneath your feet. So fleeting that you’d written it off as your weary brain, too goddamn tired from today. Heaving out a sigh, you rub your eyes in frustration, so fucking alone in this too-large penthouse. 

Fingers jittery, you rifle through your best friend’s closet for his box of blindfolds, because you knew he’d be complaining about the sensory overload at the infirmary if- when he woke up. Though, you think that was more an excuse for Shoko to send your wrecked self away than anything. 

Grabbing a few more than necessary, your heart lurches as you eye that dusty framed photo by his bedside. A much younger Satoru, Suguru, Shoko, and you - probably the last time any of you smiled so carelessly. 

One dead and the other just on the cusp of it.

He’ll be okay. He’ll be okay. He’ll be okay. He’s the strongest, right?

Swallowing heavily, you try to put your mind to something - anything - other than the memory of that battlefield and the blood. So much blood. Everywhere. 

God, you should’ve stayed. What if Satoru-

That was when you felt it. 

The tight, uncomfortable feeling of atoms standing at attention all around you. The air was so stagnant and heavy that it was almost hard to breathe. 

You don’t know how you realize what it is - but you don’t get the chance to wonder about it either. Because the thought has barely even crossed your mind before everything else is thrown at the window at those two words. 

Hoarse, and whispered, voice ever-so-slightly cracking at the end. One you recognized, one you knew you always would.

“My love?”

Satoru.

It was a miracle that you didn’t get whiplash from how fast you whirled around to face the doorway - and it was an even bigger miracle that you didn’t trip at how your legs were carrying you to that tall, familiar flash of white hair without a second thought. 

Hell, you don’t think you’ve ever run this fast in your life, and it still wasn’t quick enough when Satoru engulfed you in his arms. Letting out a soft sigh as he hugs you tight enough that it hurt, like he never wanted to let go. 

All familiar warmth and a rapid heartbeat that matched your own. 

A shiver runs down your spine at that scent of the infirmary, tinged with something so dangerously metallic, miles away from the usual hints of pine and candy. But you only pull Satoru closer - not even realizing the tears staining his snug t-shirt, nails digging into his sculpted back. 

“S-Satoru?” you murmur wetly, as if you still couldn’t believe it - even when you were in his strong arms. 

It killed you to pull away, and Satoru wasn’t any better, pulling you firmly to his heated body with a guttural grunt as soon as you showed any signs of shifting away. Grip almost bruising, fingers tight on your hips. But you didn’t mind, why would you? 

Because the strongest was nothing under your will - he always was. And it’s only once you break the embrace just a fraction of an inch that you confirm that this actually was Satoru - your Satoru. 

“You’re here.” you breathe out unsteadily, not knowing where to look first - his heaving chest, as if he’d run all the way here, or those faint scars along his exposed skin. Jagged, running down his pale skin like he was too impatient - too distracted - to let them heal properly. Satoru’s face was scarily blank, pretty lips set in a tight grimace like every second you weren’t locked in his arms killed him. 

He doesn’t answer - like he didn’t know himself. Nervously, you raise your eyes to meet his and-

Oh, Satoru, he was here. Alive.

Looking like he was ready to make sure that no one else was.

You just wondered where they’d pile all the casualties. Too many to bury at Jujutsu High if those tiny blue flickers of lightning at the corners of Satoru’s eyes were anything to go by. 

Gaze hooded, pupils blown, he didn’t look at you with that usual warmth. No, he looked at you like a man that had crawled back from death just to rip you apart. And you had half the mind to wonder whether this was some special grade curse that had just come disguised as your best friend. 

“Are you okay?” you try again, raising a hand to cup his cheek. “Toru?”

Oh, you might as well have just signed your own will, because no sooner are the words out of your mouth before Satoru’s jolting. Like the mere sound of that stupid little nickname from high school was enough to shock him to his very core. 

Electrify him just enough to finally look at you like it was the first time. Like he was seeing you after a thousand years. “My love.”

There it was again, that quiet, strained little mantra. 

Followed very closely by the deafening slam! of the door behind him, so hard that you spy one of the hinges rattling off. Startled, you look over Satoru’s broad shoulders just to catch a glimpse of the single, large handprint charred into the wood, slight steam wafting from his hand.

Shit. He’s lost it.

Almost like the strongest has forgotten his restraint - or didn’t care about it either way. Heated, you wondered what this boded for you. 

Will you be lucky number one on his kill list? You wonder, as Satoru presses his mouth right above your pulse. Racing. Dangerous. Feeling the rapid thump! thump! thump! under his lips.

Breathing you in, dragging his nose up, up, up- He mutters into your skin, “Y’can kill me if you don’t want this.” Will you go down - if there’s anyone left to remember, that is - as the casualty that surely and officially signaled the honored one’s descent into madness? Only the second best friend he had to kill?

Or, Satoru pulls away slowly from his little haven, breath ghosting your lips as he gasps out a shaky, “No God can take me away without doing this.” Will it be something else entirely?

And then he’s kissing you - and you’re kissing him. 

Because fuck, how could you not? This is Satoru, and this is all you’ve ever wanted since those late night convenience store runs in high school, hand-in-hand and teleporting away from a furious Yaga.

The same Satoru that had cockily winked at you goodbye before facing Sukuna - leaving you crying with nothing to hold onto but those cold, cold hands and wishes that you’d have just fucking kissed him before. Maybe even put aside your pride to just tell him.

But none of that mattered now, because Satoru was so desperate - drinking you in like you were the last breath of air on Earth. Like it hurt more to part with your lips than it was to be cleaved in half.

Such a mess of teeth and saliva, and you were addicted. Drunk off his sweet taste - like candy, almost, and those cheap mochi he always got from downtown - and the electricity pricking at you each time your skin grazed against his.

It almost hurt - but it hurt so good.

Gasping, you pull away for air - impossible with the way Satoru was like a madman, kissing your swollen lips again and again and-

“Toru!” you squeal, muffled through his lips. “Aren’t you-” His mouth drops into a soft oh! at the delicate strings of saliva snapping in the non-existent space between you two. Surging forward like he couldn’t help himself. “Battlefield- mmpf- now?”

With a pained grunt, Satoru finally halts, just a hair’s breadth from your lips. And if you were in any better state of mind, maybe you’d have noticed the brief flicker of blue lightning all over his body. The way the lights flicker. 

“Special curtain.” he pants against your open mouth, a muscled thigh shoving between your weakening legs. “Time barely passes in here.”

You don’t know what your head is reeling more from his words or his hands - hands that kill - caressing you like a lover everywhere. Unable to decide between your hips, to your ass, to your pretty pretty face. Kiss-bitten lips uttering, “Everyone’s waiting for you.”

“So?” Satoru lets out a humorless laugh. About an octave higher than usual, like he was at the end of his rope now. Eyes hazy and glowing, looking as if it took everything in him to not just tear off that uniform and take you right now. 

“But-”

“Shut up and let me ruin you, my love.”

Your back is hitting the mattress before you can even start to wonder what the fuck is happening. One second standing at the doorway and the other all sprawled out on Satoru’s bed.

Besides yourself, you blurt out, trying to make sense of the situation to both of you two. “Did- did you just teleport us?”

“Don’t know.” he answers. And Satoru sounded like he genuinely didn’t know, as bewildered as you were. Powers acting before him - way, way before he can think - as he fists your shirt in his hands. “Don’t care.”

And you half wondered whether Satoru was even aware of what he was doing as he pulls, down, down down. 

Rip!

It tears through the air - both the sound, and the way he’s just pulling your shirt to shreds. All depravity and no repentance as Satoru throws it behind God-knows-where. Buttons hitting the floor at a maddening little rhythm to which he was slowly losing his sanity. 

He was kissing you like he was angry - taking it out on your poor clothes. Because before you know it, he’s pulling your bra off. Fingers searing on your skin, skirt just tatters on the floor. 

“Waited too long.” he groans, leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses down your neck. “Always wanted to do this.” And once he started, it was like Satoru just couldn’t stop, rambling into the valley of your breasts, “Ever since I first saw you and oh-”

That was it - only one look at your panties, all flimsy and drenched - and you’re back to wondering what Satoru’s kill count would be. You shudder as his eyes widen, letting out a strangled gasp from some deep, primal part of himself. Voice so broken and starved as he muses, “-can’t believe I waited this long.”

Shit. You weren’t making it out alive.

Immediately, Satoru’s dropping further down the mattress, easily pushing your knees up all the way till they were at your breasts. 

And it was so unfair. 

Unhair how he was still fully clothed, while you were spread so shamefully. Unfair how he was sliding his underneath your panties up and down, grazing your swollen folds. Up and down, up and down up and- Pooling your sweet sweet juices on his fingertips before pulling, marveling at how sinfully soaked they were. 

And it was like something snapped - maybe his whatever restraint he had left, probably you by the end of this. Because just a split-second later, Satoru’s tearing right through your panties. Not even taking a second to breathe before burying his pretty face into your dripping cunt. 

Unfair how you were liking it so dangerously. Being so used. 

And Satoru knows - he thinks, with whatever rationality he has left intact - that he wants to admire your pretty lil’ cunt. To finally drink in what he’s been dreaming about for years all these lonely nights. But, no, that’s for later - for a different Satoru, one that didn’t feel like he was going to fucking die if he didn’t taste you right now. 

“Ah! Hngh- T-Toru-” you arch into his hot tongue, as he licks erratically up your folds, long, sloppy movements of his tongue all the way from your base to your swollen clit. Lapping at your juices like he couldn’t stop.

“Tha’s right.” words muffled into your cunt. Throwing your legs over his sculpted shoulders. “Gimme more, use me. Use me- fuck fuck fuck- yeah.”

He sounded as delirious as you were already, flinching with each word spat into your sensitive cunt. Drunk off your pussy and so messy, like he was well and fully intent on ruining you. 

And it’s all you can do to sob so needily as he swirls his tongue around your sensitive clit. Seemingly unable to decide between sucking on it harshly and dipping into your sloppy hole. In and out. Wanting everything. Anything. 

“Fuck. S’too deep. Sh-shit.”

“Oh yeah?” he’s grinning, a cruel, cold little grin. You can feel it as he rolls his tongue against your clit over and over. “S’not deep enough.”

You pathetically try to close your legs around his head in shock, as the tips of his long fingers spread open your pussy further, teasing your entrance. 

But who were you against the strongest? The one that got everything handed to him on a silver platter since birth? Except you - until now, that is.

Because Satoru’s swatting thighs back open like it was a mere inconvenience, and feel your cunt clench in- fear? Anticipation? as you realize how gently he was throwing you around like a ragdoll, in comparison to that door from earlier. 

“No.” he sounds absolutely wrecked, babbling around your throbbing clit. “Need this- need you.”

And then he’s plunging knuckle-deep in your plushy pussy, so greedily that your slick is trailing down his wrist. Drinking in your pretty gasps of his name as he roams for that one spot he knows will have you seeing stars - only the best for his girl, right? The only thing on his mind right now, like a predator starved.

You can only tug on his hair and buck wildly underneath him, inching Satoru closer to where he was desperately searching for. Close - so close. 

“Toru-” you moan, like a prayer. 

But it wasn’t fast enough. 

Not for Satoru, at least.

Even through the haze in your eyes, you could make out that brief flash of electric blue in-between your legs, eyes widening as ah-

That cheat. 

You wondered if he even knew he was using his powers right now. Or whether Satoru was too far gone at this point. Way too smug with the way he hits that one spot. Hard. 

Ah, you quiver as something so dark sparks in his eyes. Looking like a man starved, that had finally come across his favorite meal. Moving with frightening accuracy as he pumps his fingers in and out, hitting it each and every time. 

“Shit, ngh-” you let out a shrill moan, “It’s too good. You’re so fucking-” 

One hand was so messy toying with your dripping entrance - the other digging into your hips. Dragging your sloppy pussy senselessly all over his mouth. 

Hard enough that you were sure it’d leave marks for tomorrow. If you even made it that long, that is, if the tiny shocks of electricity at his fingertips told you anything. 

Desperate. Violent, even.

So it only makes sense that your orgasm was the same. “Fuck- m’cumming m’cumming, fuck fuck fuck-” You’re shaking as you cum, crying out Satoru’s name and delirious little moans that you’d otherwise be embarrassed of. 

And he doesn’t stop. Not when you’re blinking your vision back. Not when you’re shying away from his tongue, the stars behind your eyes too much with each flick of his tongue. 

“S’too much- too- fuck, sensitive, Toru.” you whine, big fat tears clinging to your lashes. 

Ah, there it was again. Just when Satoru was beginning to think that he might just be veering into a state of mind that could be considered sane - you have to call him that goddamn nickname again. And it’s only driving him wild. 

Well, he muses, fumbling with the hem of his t-shirt, it’s really on you then. 

You let out a fucked-out little whine as Satoru finally takes his shirt off, revealing such milky, toned skin. All sharp curves and dips like he was sculpted so meticulously, going down, down, down and- Your breath hitches at the large, pink scar standing out of his torso, so uneven and fresh that you feel a fresh wave of tears - different ones, this time. 

You take a steadying breath, eyes unmoving from the injury. “Satoru-”

“No.” Satoru’s tone is firm, so different from the metallic tinkling of his belt. He was moving now, shifting in between your legs to kiss those tears away. “Need this. Need you. Need you need you need you so bad-”

“But your…” you trail off. The words catch in your throat as he finally unbuckles his belt, pulling down his pants just enough that his throbbing cock springs out, hitting his sculpted abdomen. Red, and so so angry, soaked in precum. 

He was so…massive. Now, you expected your best friend to have a big dick, but this was ridiculous. He was so intimidatingly long, thick enough that you could feel the slick beading out of your sloppy hole already.

Yeah, you definitely weren’t making it out alive. 

Satoru sees it too, of course, because his cock twitches furiously. A low hiss leaving those pretty pink lips before he’s spitting on your quivering cunt. Once. Twice. 

And you know that if this shameless bastard could use six eyes to find your g-spot, then he could’ve done the same for this. But, no, he lets some of it miss, splattering against your inner thigh, smearing all over as Satoru thumbs in his saliva with your slick. 

God, he was treating you like some object. Wordlessly throwing your legs over his shoulders, dragging his weeping tip down your swollen folds. So fucking filthy. 

And then you feel like you’re been split apart - because Gojo Satoru was unforgiving. As was his aching cock. He’s barely even pressing through the first ring of muscle, and you already feel like he’s pushing all the way into your lungs. 

“T-Toru.” you yelp, glancing down at the way your pussy was stretched so lewdly around his thick cock. Quivering as he keeps pushing and pushing and- no mercy. Absolutely none at all. “Can feel you so deep inside ngh- I don’t think I can…” 

“No no no no no-” he’s panting into your open mouth. Fucking into your heavenly cunt in mindless, shallow little thrusts just to squeeze deeper inside. “Need this. Want this. Always did. God, fuck fuck fuck, you can do it-”

“But-”

God, Satoru can’t help but kiss you - to shut those cute lil’ whines up more than anything, he’s sure he’ll cum right there and right now if he didn’t. 

Because Satoru wasn’t any better. Body bowing into yours, eyes rolling to the back of his head, mouth falling into a delirious oh! as he finally bottoms out. Balls smacking your ass too hard, your pussy too tight, you too beautiful underneath him. 

Blindly, he reaches for the headboard - white-knuckling it so hard that it’s a wonder it doesn’t break. 

It does - and later you’ll find a pile of splinters behind the bed. It’s just that neither of you notice. Too high off the feeling of Satoru’s cock pushing inside you. You’re clawing at his back now, gasping for air. Letting him fold you in half to filthily lick away the tears pooling at your cheeks. 

“Shit- y’got this, my love. You gotta- ah- Breathe-” he can’t even speak properly, sharp tongue so heavy. Eyes glowing with such insanity as he rocks his hips harder into yours.

He was right - you needed to breathe. To finally wrap your head around the fact that this was Satoru - your best friend - the same one that binge-watches sappy rom-coms with you after every breakup. Every. Single. One. Somehow, you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Both of you were barely-lucid at this point. And he was out of control now.

Funny, how in all his dreams when you were screaming his name - Satoru was always suave, methodical, playing with your pretty pussy like a fine instrument. Right now, he was anything but. Sloppy - like he didn’t have enough time, never would, even in this room where time slowed.

“Don’t you run away.” he grunts at the way you’re so adorably torn between running away from his cock and bucking for more more more- “Waited twelve fucking years for this. N’ m’gonna take it.”

You almost sob at the pressure as he laces his fingers on top of your head to slide you impossibly deeper. Down, down, down. “S’too good, Toru. Wan’ more-”

“More.” Satoru breathes, more to himself than anything. Eyes widening almost comically, a fucked-out smile spreading all over his face. “Y’want more even when you’re filled to-” He traces an invisible line halfway down your tummy. “Here?”

“Yes.” you gasp as he reaches down to toy with your throbbing clit, drawing tight, frenzied little circles. Balls smacking your ass so painfully, thumb pressing down right where his tip was hitting your cervix - as if he used six eyes to see. “Always wanted more. Always have, Toru.”

And you swear you could see something physically snap inside Satoru. Because his eyes glaze over, grin dropping instantly from his face. 

If you weren’t so cockdrunk maybe you’d have caught the way the bedroom lights flicker, the one down the hallway bursting. 

“Always, huh?” he’s muttering, grip on your body tightening like a vice. “Wanted more like me?” Rocking into you so sloppily, cock twitching so painfully as he speeds up. Fingers just as desperate - as depraved as his hips.

And this time, he doesn’t even have to use six eyes to find that one spot. Knowing your body well enough to hit it over and over until you were sobbing. “More more more more- fuckin’ take it then.”

At this point you didn’t know whether Satoru was always this ruthless in bed or you’d just broken him. It felt so good that it was almost scary. And your delirious mind wandered into the thought that maybe the bed would break - and your bones to follow. 

Well, they would have if Satoru hadn’t been using reversed cursed technique. But you didn’t need to know that just yet. 

“Satoru-” you squeal as he only gets more erratic.  “I’m…”

“Close?” Satoru’s grunting, smacking his lips against your own.

It’s laughable, really, that muffled question - because Satoru knew you were close. Losing his fucking mind, actually, at how you were squeezing so hard around him. Balls squeezing so painfully right now, but he wanted you to cum first - needed you to cum first.

“Yeah, so close. Wan’ cum- Ah! Please-”

“Then cum. Fucking cum, wan’ed this so bad.” he’s babbling deliriously. Little sparks of lightning visible even to your glassy eyes, fingers humming with a dangerous little energy that stimulated you so good. “Yeah, yeah yeah yeah fucking cum, wanna hngh-”

And then you are. So sudden and hard that you don’t even realize it at first. Just that you’re seeing stars behind your eyes, blood roaring in your ears. Rocking your hips into Satoru’s like such a slut. 

Oh, if heaven was really then the part of Satoru that can still form coherent thoughts thinks this just might be it. 

Because only the sight of you creaming all around his swollen cock and he’s cumming and cumming so hard that it hurts. Thick, hot ropes of cum that he can’t seem to stop. Doesn’t want to stop, and God he thinks he could cum until you beg and beg and beg it’s too much. Until you’re yelling for-

“Mercy!” you moan, head spinning with how fucking overfilled your pussy was. “Please, Toru-”

Satoru lets out a slight gasp, “Mercy?” Chuckling so cruelly at your dazed nod, “No mercy, my love. None at all.”

And God, it was so fucking hard to look at him too - eyes half-lidded and miles away, flushed and looking like he was anywhere but laid out on a hospital bed just a few minutes ago. In fact, Satoru looked like he was in heaven on Earth as he only milked his painfully hard cock on your snug pussy.

Pretty. Always so fucking pretty. 

And he kept whispering that, over and over in your ear as you both ride out your highs. Oh how he loved you.

Your eyes fly open, and Satoru knew he’d said that out loud. Shit. But, well, with the way you were immediately pulling him to collapse into your arms, he thinks he really doesn’t mind.

“Love you, love you. Love you so much. Always did, always wanted to love you- to fuck you.” You barely even notice him marking down your neck, sharp canines digging into the flesh like he wanted to break something. Hard enough that you distinctly wondered whether he was out for blood. “To ruin you.”

It was oozing out of you, both Satoru’s cum - dribbling down your legs in thick globs, pooling on the overpriced sheets below - and his power. Jolts of electricity running down all the way from your poor, abused cunt to your hazy mind. 

“So do it.” The air was crackling - crackling with intensity and the smell of jujutsu. It was in your veins, in your words as you whisper, “Ruin me. You’re the- ngh- only- one f’me, Toru. Always was.”

The lights go out. All of them - all across Tokyo, in fact. Shining so bright that it was blinding, until they burst. The last thing you see are his eyes - electrified with blue lightning, burning into your brain. 

And then it’s black. 

---

“I’ll be back before ya know it, my love.” he whispers against your forehead, cooing at the way you stir sleepily. “Gotta pest to take care of.”

Taking down that curtain wasn’t the hard part, the hard part was actually fucking regaining his senses enough to do so. 

And now, all cleaned up and fucked to sleep on his bed, you were looking so unbearably delectable that it made some part of Satoru just want to stay behind this curtain. To forget the waiting sorcerers on the battlefield. Saving the world be damned.

Well, no matter, Satoru had time. He was the strongest, right? After all, how could he give you the world if there was no world to give?

“N’ when I’m back, m’gonna kiss ya to death till you go out with me. Till everyone knows you’re unmistakably mine.”

A/N. GET IT - that unmistakable bit from the panel? 

Plagiarism not authorized.

Do you know anything i can donate to for palestine that's not the gofundmes because the idea of having to choose who needs my money more is just. scary to me they all need it 3: maybe there's a thing that splits/distributes money evenly???? idk but help would be appreciated

Gazafunds actually deals with this anxiety and makes a decision for you if you want. Their home page has a spotlighted fundraiser and the code consider things like how close the gfm is to finishing, when the most recent donation is, etc. So it's randomized to help as many people as possible.

There's also @helpgazachildren which if you donate, you can help multiple people at once since it's a whole mutual aid fund, or at least close to it. Hussam distributes money to people who need it when he's asked.

→ Main Masterlist → Headcanons → Thirst Posts → NSFW:✩

→ Mutual Masturbation ✩ ↳ Kunigami Rensuke x f!reader.  ✍ Kunigami’s coach never allowed any sex before important match days and your boyfriend was always a stickler for the rules, no matter how stressed out it made him. But this time you’ve devised a workaround. 18+, pwp, not proofread!, mutual masturbation, praise, fingering, hand jobs, cumshots. 3.1k. → Scoring In More Ways Than One ✩ ↳ Kunigami Rensuke x Raichi Jingo x f!reader.  ✍ You knew when you first started dating Kunigami that he took football extremely seriously, and it was something that you accepted about him.  He’s waiting until he makes it into the Pro-leagues to have sex with you, because he can’t have any vices or distractions from his childhood dream, but Raichi thinks you’re the biggest distraction there is. 18+, pwp, no beta, virgin!reader, implied/hinted virgin!Kunigami, threesomes, degradation from Raichi, praise, blowjobs, hand jobs, cunnilingus, fingering, multiple orgasms, spanking, sweat, cumplay, creampies, no protection, voyeurism. 8.6k.

✎ᝰ BAKUGOU KATSUKI ; — 11:36 AM OR when you’re needy and he’s ready to help you. doesn’t mean he won’t have some of his own fun while doing it. (birthday special)

࿄ ! warnings - major nsfw. squirting. f!reader. kind of dubcon but not really. / note. hey… how y’all doing! i have no excuses this time lol. i also can’t promise i will be back! i couldn’t let this brew in my drafts forever, esp. on his birthday. but enjoy :} minors& blank blogs dni.

you: hey kats i miss you :(

you: katsuki? i need you

you sent those texts at around 11:36 am and it’s now almost an hour later, with katsuki being in a very important heroes’ meeting of some sort. now, katsuki never takes time or leave off of work only on the condition he’s practically spilling his guts onto the floor - and even so, he’d come in with his hands wrapped round his lower abdomen if he wasn’t chastised for showing up half dead.

this wasn’t out of the ordinary for you - you know, to text him all needy and sad. don’t get it all wrong, it makes katsuki’s heart clench to have to leave you to your lonesome when he’s busy and you’re not. he knows how you get when you get off your period and mixed when you’re also feeling poorly comes a combination of you feeling melancholic, sweet and also very needy. by the way, did he mention needy yet?

katsuki: what’s up with you? you ok?

his phone vibrates almost as fast as he tried to stuff it in his pocket and he inconspicuously looks down.

you: no… i need you :((

katsuki sighs looking at your texts, excusing himself from the meeting and giving what he’d consider sympathetic eyes to his friends before dialling up your number.

“you okay, princess?” katsuki frowns, “i know you ‘aven’t been feeling well these past few days but ‘m busy-”

“katsukiii,” you all but whine into the phone, mewling and he straightens up immediately at your voice, ears turning a cute shade of pink. oh. he knows this tone. he knows it all too well amongst the linen sheets of his bed.

“i know i shouldn’t be calling while you’re busy but, fuck, i need you, need you so much,” you gasp on the other side of the line, practically swimming in his bed, wearing only your cotton panties and a barely there tank top.

katsuki bites his fist, standing behind the conference room door, groaning quietly. “yeah?”

“mhmmm, i really do,” you simper, “you looked really good this morning an-and you smelt so good and… ‘m just really, really needy right now.”

katsuki should tell you to get a grip, dash some cold water on your face and put your fingers to good use but the way you’re moaning and whining across the phone is making all his blood cells rush from the rational parts of his body down to the irrational parts of his body.

“where r’you right now?”

“in your bed… just like how you left me,” you sigh, a pathetic and wanton lilt to your words. “all alone in this big and cold bed wishing my big, strong man would come home and give me what i deserve.”

your flushed face boyfriend all but snarls, teeth bared over the phone. “yeah? what d’you deserve, then, for interrupting me at work and and then begging me to come home and fuck you? cos that’s what you want, right? for me t’drop everythin’ and come running to you?”

“yup,” you hum, popping the ‘p’ and some rustling can be heard in the background. “well, ‘s your choice, really. i just… really need you, baby.”

you can hear katsuki’s deep breathing over the phone and you’re so certain you can hear the cogs in his skull turning, clicking as he mulls over this decision. he clears his throat, lamenting with a big sigh as if this is all one big inconvenience for him.

just at that moment, deku comes through the door.

“everything okay, kacch- dynamight? if you’re busy we can discuss this with you another time.”

“…‘m gonna have to head home for a little while… something’s come up. don’ wait up. i’ll be back as quick as i can.”

katsuki wants to bite you when he can make out the smile over your exhale through the receiver but you’re quick to hang up as deku reassures his friend in his naïveté, unknowing to the true purpose of his mid day return home.

when katsuki returns within 10 minutes since your call (usually it’s a 16 minute drive from the agency to home - pedal to the metal), you’re already on the couch, and your tank top does nothing to hide the hardness of your nipples and katsuki can see the shape of your cunt lips through your barely there panties.

no words are passed as you smile sweetly at your boyfriend, who kicks off his shoes and whose hands already at his belt as he stalks over to your seated body.

“how d’ya want it, huh?” you’re already moving back across the couch, legs spread.

“just fuck me please,” you whimper, “wan’ you to stretch me out with your cock.” you paw at his hips, at the waistline of his trousers that situate themselves in front of your face.

“you don’ want me to stretch you out first?” he muses, dropping down to his knees in front of your scantily clad pussy, thick fingers pressing on your covered clit and you hum, shaking your head.

“i can take it right now,” you gasp, and two fingers slip into your pants despite your protests at how you “don’t need to be prepped,” and that you “can take him right now.” alas, you shut up effective immediately when his fingers skim through your panties and straight to rubbing your hardened nub and you can’t find it in yourself to get annoyed when two digits slip inside you, curling up only for a mere second and jolting your body along with it.

katsuki pulls his dampened fingers out, effectively taking off your panties with him. “your decision. don’t get pissy with me later when it’s sore, because ‘m not gonna have it.”

you shake your head defiantly, utterances of “i won’t” and “just please fuck me,” meshing into a slurry of words.

he grabs your face to look at you. “you promise?”

you nod and he frowns, smushing your cheeks slightly. “you better speak up and fast, because i ain’t got all day, princess.”

“i promish! i promishh.” the words come out muffled against the grip of his hand. your boyfriend takes the answer anyhow, because he gets up from off his knees to impatiently throw off his blazer, then down his trousers and pants in one swoop.

there’s a smug look on your face and katsuki can tell you’re trying to hide a triumphant smile. he wants to wipe it off your face so badly.

“face down, ass up, pretty lady.”

you throw yourself around without a second to spare and katsuki stuffs a pillow under your hips, slapping your ass in the process. at any other time, you would’ve scolded him for leaving a print. instead you moan and arch your back, clenching cunt on display for his hungry eyes.

“fucking minx,” katsuki grumbles, settling behind you and letting the weight of his mostly hard cock tap against your pussy, delving between your puffy lips and rubbing against your hardened clit.

you try to be good, try not to say anything that might make him want to punish you but you’re growing restless at what feels like hours of torture (hours being mere seconds that is) and you sniffle out a weak “katsuki, please…”

his heart clenches at your tone and even when he’s trying to tease you, he can’t help but feed out the palm of your hand. he also can’t help that his dick pulsates in his grip at the pathetic tone of your voice.

“don’t rush me or i’ll leave you like this,” he grumbles, and you both know he wouldn’t dare, and you’re about to protest, turn your head to spit defiantly at him but it’s much too late for that. he sinks in, weighty and thick and it knocks the breath out of you. you practically face plant into the armrest of the couch and your teeth bites into the cashmere fabric.

there’s something about not being prepped before that makes this so much more intimate and sexy for the both of you, but the impending realisation that you will be sore tomorrow dawns on you as you feel the heft of his balls press on you. he’s right to the hilt and you’re full to the brim, gasping.

neither of you can get a word out edgeways or sideways - katsuki leans down to wrap a thick arm around your neck and though he can barely see your face, he can feel the salty tears dribbling down his forearm and he can most definitely hear the wordless cries coming from out your agape mouth.

“this is what you wanted,” he hisses, nose in your hair, his wide body trapping you to the couch, “don’t you fuckin’ complain later- fuckin’, shittt,” he groans, pulling back out slightly and getting sucked in by your silken walls. the living room has gotten 100 degrees hotter and he wants to blame you so badly, but you moan out his name wantonly, one hand around his own that’s slightly bruising against your neck and he’s putty.

“hurts so good,” you finally get out, toes curling when the tip of his cock hits against that honeyed spot. “jus’- jus’ like that,” you slur, legs shaking and thrashing when you feel katsuki’s hand slip between your bodies.

all he can focus on is how fast you got sloppy for him, the conjoining of your bodies, if only fleeting, is getting to him, if the clench of his balls has anything to say about it. his hand finds your throbbing pearl and a straying pointer fingers rubs on it firmly in broad, confident circles, and you choke, eyes crossing.

your body stiffens and you’re not even sure you’re speaking a coherent language at this point, but you garble out something along the lines of “i love you,” and “i can’t take it,” and a contradicting “like that, katsuki.”

behind you, he’s thrusting even harder and rubbing faster at your clit, pressing down with ferocity and you’re not even sure what you’re begging for anymore, the tension in your bladder rising. even in the midst of a second, impending orgasm do you turn and try to kiss him, which he gladly accepts, tongue delving into your mouth and he inevitably hunches, grunting and huffing, red faced and shooting ropes of thick cum inside of you.

that’s when your second one hits, and it’s even heavier than the last, sprays of liquid hitting your boyfriend’s lower abdomen and you squeal, hips gyrating and katsuki doesn’t slow until you’re basically limp, collapsed against the softness of his sofa.

he kisses your head, pulling out and you gasp at the exit. no words are shared as he brandishes a damp cloth from somewhere - he must’ve gotten up in your daze, you didn’t even know he had left from behind you at all, and it makes you sigh, cheeks resting against the armrest.

katsuki cleans you up in typical, sweetheart fashion, passing you a blanket and your clothes like he always does after a romp, and it’s only when he makes you sit up so you can eat a banana and drink a glass of cold, fresh water do you say something.

“so i take that you’re not going back into work?”

katsuki’s eyebrows shoot up into his hairline, and he looks away from you, pouting. you think he’s not going to say anything till he scoffs a short moment later, “…’s not like i had much to do today anyway… i’ll catch up with those idiots later.”

you don’t bite back your smile this time and he pulls you into his chest. “you better wipe that shit eating grin off ya face.”

“or what? you threatening me with a good time?” you giggle, wiggling your brows and he opens his mouth to bark back until you move your hips slightly and hiss.

“what was that?” he questions and you ignore him. he groans, swiping a hand across his face,“…y/n, i-”

“‘m not complaining!… but i would be lying if i said it’s not a little sore- hey!”

katsuki wraps you up in his arms, blanket strewn.

“what are you-”

“since ‘m taking the rest of the day off, might as well go clean up and have a bath… remind me to never listen to you again.”

“hey! it’s not my fault you’re such a brute,” you laugh as he kisses your face, walking up the stairs.

“not so hard!” you hiss in pain, “‘m sore!”

yeah. remind katsuki to never listen to you when you’re horny.

࿄ ! — all rights reserved © MOOMINSUKI 2024. please do not copy, translate, repost nor recommend my work outside of tumblr. this is strictly prohibited

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Unhoneymooners!? - G.S.

Synopsis. The universe was surely playing a joke on you. Here you were, trapped on a luxury getaway with your - dangerously handsome, extremely obnoxious - ex. Either you were going to kill each other or end up pinned beneath him, split apart on his cóck. You just didn’t know what would come first.

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, exes to lovers, unprotected, argument as foreplay, slight enemies to lovers, more like annoyances actually, cunnilingus, oral (male + female), spitting, creampire, rough, Satoru is still EXTREMELY down bad for you, and unfairly hot, forced proximity, cúmplay, pet names (sweetheart), swearing.

Word count. 8.5k

A/N. It’s impossible to not write Satoru without bullying him at least a little bit.

You broke up with Gojo Satoru exactly 5 months, 2 weeks, and 16 hours ago - not that you were keeping count, of course.

So why was he outside of your resort room blasting “Kill Bill” by SZA like he’s auditioning for the world’s most dramatic comeback tour? On what should’ve marked your fourth anniversary, no less.

Well, given you were the one to lock him out, but still - the stubborn bastard could at least have some decorum. 

With an exasperated sigh, you throw yourself onto the king-sized bed of your honeymoon suite, trying to will away that annoying, grating voice - not SZA, no, more so Satoru singing along at the top of his lungs to the chorus. 

How did you even get here? And with Satoru of all people - your Satoru. Or at least he was this time a little over a year ago. 

You first met Satoru when you were in university, back when he wore those pretentious circled sunglasses and waltzed around those halls like he owned the place. And after a single literature assignment together, he wasn’t just your (self-proclaimed) best friend; he was the reluctantly favorite thorn in your side. 

Like the rest of him, Satoru’s introduction into your love-life was anything but subtle. It wasn’t like he strolled in, gave a polite nod, and blended into the background. Oh no, he bulldozed his way in and dragged you to dance with him on the tables of some dingy frat party in what you could only assume was some joke from the universe at your expense.

And damn him, you think bitterly, you couldn't resist him that night. Spinning you into a dramatic dip, silver chain brushing your face as his half-lidded eyes bored into yours. You couldn’t not kiss him after the way his hands were just searing into your skin. 

God, you’ve never been able to listen to “Gasolina” the same way ever since.  

Satoru was in love as he was in the rest of life - a force of nature, and it was too easy to find yourself caught up in him.

That night at the frat party was just the beginning. From then on was a rollercoaster of everything from heated debates over the best flavor of ramen to impromptu road trips where you’d end up under a carpet of stars. Wrapped in each other’s arms and sharing whispered secrets for an unpromised future - oftentimes where Satoru would crack a joke or two about running away to Tokyo with him. To which you’d laugh it off with a “Yeah yeah, I’d leave everything I’ve known behind in a heartbeat for your dumbass, Toru.”

You just didn’t think that it would be the downfall to your relationship. All the empty promises. 

Because as those heavenly days turned into weeks and the weeks into months, eventually two years had gone by. The whirlwind romance settled into a comfortable rhythm, but with it came the looming promise of graduation and Satoru moving to work under his family company in Tokyo.

Under pressure, it wasn’t long before the cracks began to show, the arguments more frequent, and the silences more deafening. And as your relationship slowly turned into nothing more than a husk of what it used to be - so did the both of you.

Long story short, graduation was a bittersweet goodbye - and you think both of you knew long before it was actually over. Neither of you attended the afterparty - with Satoru on a flight straight to Tokyo and you at home to stuff your face with chocolate. Hey, at least you could blame your tears on finally leaving university, right? 

You had meticulously erased his name from your phone, your social media, and even your dreams - well, almost, the bastard still came around to bother you occasionally. It was messy, painful, and final.

But “final” really didn’t explain your current predicament. Because if there’s one thing you’ve learned about Satoru is that he’s always there - whether you liked it or not. He was there when you needed a partner for that literature assignment, and he was there to turn your world upside down at that dingy frat party.

Hell, he was even there to help you stubbornly chug mountains of ice cream and win that raffle for this five day-long getaway trip to the Maldives. Though, you think he might’ve chugged the ice cream without the promise of a vacation anyway.

But, when ultimately those shiny tickets came in the mail - Satoru wasn’t there. Oh well, it might’ve been a couple’s trip - but you could have a hot girl summer, right? Maybe you could even snag a hottie by the end. You’d almost forgotten that he’d be getting his copy of the tickets as well.

Yet, unfortunately - as the beginning notes of P!nk’s “So What” bursts through the heavy wooden door - you were inevitably reminded of the fact that he was here. Right now. Goading you into coming outside.

You find yourself groaning inwardly (and outwardly) because of course, why wouldn’t he come back even more obnoxious than before? You haven’t seen him in ages, yet here he is, crashing back into your life with all the subtlety of a sledgehammer. Or - you furrow your brows at his purposefully off-key singing carrying over the sounds of the waves outside - with the subtlety of a manchild with a JBL and a premium account on Spotify.  

Rubbing your temples in frustration, you contemplate how much longer of this it would take before you’re both kicked out of this resort. And after you ate so many ice creams to win this getaway trip? No chance.

With a resigned sigh, you rise from the bed, smoothing out the bathing suit you’d just put on before the devil incarnate showed up knocking at your door. Something hot and prickly pools in your stomach as you approach it, and you can’t help but roll your eyes at the sheer absurdity of the situation. So like Satoru.

Taking a deep breath to steel yourself, you shakily reach for the handle. It’s fine. It’s not a big deal actually.

…

What’s the worst that can happen?

Slam! 

The door swings open, and there in all his smug glory stands a very shirtless Satoru. Gojo pain-in-your-ass Satoru, the same asshole you’ve blocked on even Gmail. 

Except, you’re momentarily struck by how high you have to raise your eyes to meet his. Are growth spurts even a thing anymore? You didn’t have a chance to take a good look last time before slamming the door shut at the first flash of white hair and a smug grin.

But right now, traitorously, your gaze catches on just how broad his shoulders look and…since when was he so chiseled? Damn you, Tokyo - you were doing him too good.

His hair is slightly longer too, curtaining those slightly more mature features, stopping just above that ever-immature grin. One which moves as he hums, “Well, happy fourth anniversary to me, If I knew this came with the suite then I’d have swam here myself.”

You scoff, suddenly feeling strangely self-conscious as he wiggles his brows, striking blue eyes sweeping your figure from head to toe. “I’d prefer if you swam back. What are you doing?” 

“Why, just showing up to our room on our lil’ honeymoon, sweetheart.” Satoru sing-songs, leaning against the doorframe to fully prevent you from slamming the door in his (admittedly) pretty face again. “And before you try to break my nose with that door again, I won that ticket here fair and square, y’know. I ate just as much ice cream as you did for it.”

“You ate most of those before you knew about the getaway raffle.” you sigh over his nonchalant shrug, pinching your nose, “And stop calling it our honeymoon, I dumped you five months ago.”

“Well aren’t you just the gift that keeps on giving. Keeping count?”

“No. Don’t be a pest.”

“Always thought you had a thing for pests. After all, you did date me.” As Satoru grins impossibly wider, you couldn’t help but roll your eyes. He winks, “And if I’m a pest then you’re an itch that just won’t go away.”

“At least I’m not the itch that shows up uninvited to someone’s honeymoon suite.” you hiss. And with that you start shutting the door ever-so-slowly, delighting in the panic that overtakes Satoru’s features as he reaches out frantically.

“Hey!” he sputters, “I didn’t know you’d be here! And besides this ‘pest’ forgot his slippers all the way in Tokyo and can’t stand on flaming-hot boardwalks for too long so let me in.”

And sure enough, you glance down to see that Satoru isn’t wearing any slippers on the scorching boardwalk. The realization almost brings a smirk to your lips. This idiot. 

“Wow.”

“‘Wow’ at my feet or-”

“I should leave you here to rot just for your pure idiocy.” you deadpan, eyes locked on the way he’s burning his soles off yet still has the audacity to flash you a cocky smile.

“But you won’t.” he hums.

A beat passes. One. Two. And Satoru’s grin almost falters, before you finally relent - opening the door just a crack, cursing his entire bloodline under your breath. “You’re incorrigible” you mutter as he saunters inside victoriously, dragging his hefty luggage behind.

“Why change perfection, sweetheart~” he calls out, heading straight for the bedroom, only to let out a delighted “OooOOo” at the sight of the king-sized bed in the middle. The only bed. “How scandalous, maybe you’ll even fall in lov-” 

“Don’t. I’d rather gouge my eyes out with a seashell.” you warn, holding up both keycards threateningly, “I get the bed, you take the couch.”

“But-”

“And I’ve got the keys, so slippers or not you’ll be back out on that boardwalk.” 

A slight smile tugging at the corners of your lips at the way Satoru looked so dramatically crestfallen, you continue - just to be petty, “And no more ‘Kill Bill’ that’s on my angry ex playlist.”

With a heavy sigh he sulkily makes his way to the bathroom, calling out as he does, “Fine. But I’m showering first.”

As he disappears from sight you throw yourself onto your bed, basking in what little peace and quiet you’ll have because of your unwanted guest. This was going to be a-

“And I’m using all of your body lotions.”

“...”

“I will use one of your body lotions.”

Groaning, you sink into the plush mattress, just wishing it would swallow you whole and spare you from this torment. And this was only Day 1? This was going to be a very long five days. 

---

The first night with Satoru, honestly, wasn’t too bad. 

You don’t know what you expected exactly - maybe for him to pour hair dye in your shampoo or something. But he actually stuck to his word, slept on the couch after only a bit of taunting, and used only one of your body lotions. Your best-smelling, most expensive one, but one nonetheless.

Feeling slightly more optimistic, you spent most of the second day at the beach, meanwhile he stuck to lounging by the pool. Add in a bit of pretending you didn’t know him by the salad bar at dinner and that made for an almost-perfect hot girl summer. 

Well, considering that you were rooming with your insufferable longtime ex - in a honeymoon suite of all places. 

The only catch came that night, fully content at the burning soreness from being pushed around by the waves outside. You got ready to splay out on your bed, humming along to the tunes of your playlist and…Satoru’s lamenting?

“I swear my back feels like it’s been run over by a truck. Five of them, and a zoo.” he complains from behind you, dramatically draping himself over the couch - his impromptu bed. 

“Good.”

“What if that was my last straw?”

“Even better.”

His exaggerated, disappointed whine is both embarrassing and almost-endearing as you roll your eyes, resisting the urge to suffocate him with a pillow. “Maybe call your chiropractor guy.”

Satoru shot you a pointed look, his expression a mixture of faux innocence and irritation, which you knew too well. “I wish but he’s trekking through the Himalayas. C’mon~ Don’t you think that lovely king-sized bed is too big for just one?”

“No, but the boardwalk sure is. Maybe you should try it out.” you monotone, getting ready to end this conversation once and for all. 

But when has Satoru ever let you off easy? He sits up abruptly, a devious smile curling his lips. “Ohh, I get it.” he taunts, batting his long lashes mockingly, “You’re scared to sleep in the same bed with me.”

Huh?

“Out of all the idiotic-” you cut yourself off by whirling around to face his smug grin, “Why would I be scared to sleep in a bed with you. I’ve done that far too many times already.”

“Exactly,” he chuckles. “And all those times you could barely last an hour before without keeping your hands off of me. Scared you’ll end up pinned underneath me and stuffed full like old times, sweetheart?”

You narrow your eyes at him despite the heat burning your face. “The only thing I’m scared of is your icicle feet on my side.”

He laughs, a sound that’s equal parts irritating and endearing, and stands up from where he was slumped on the couch. Making his way slowly, but surely towards you, “Oh, c’mon. For old times’ sake, admit it, you miss me.”

"Yeah, missed the peace and quiet I don’t have because of your big mouth,” you scoff. Finding it hard to meet his twinkling gaze as he comes close enough that you’re toe to toe with him. Your cheeks burn at the proximity - hot enough to match the heat radiating off his body. 

Satoru shakes his head, undeterred by your threats. And suddenly you get the overwhelming urge to throw him out the window and straight into the ocean. “You can deny it all you want, but you still have feelings for me.”

Your jaw clenches at his audacity. “You wish. I’d never.”

“Then prove it.”

Damn, he was good.

Which is probably how you found yourself lying in the same bed as Satoru, with a wall of all the pillows in the room erected between you two - and a few extra from room service just in case. 

“Sweetheart, this is a king-sized bed. Is the fortress really necessary?”

You wrap your blankets tighter around yourself, trying to ignore the figure radiating warm right next to you. Muttering out a muffled little, “Yeah, so you can keep your mitts off of me.”

Satoru groans dramatically, bed creaking as he shuffles what you can only assume to be closer to you. “You keep your mitts off of me, you lecher.” he quips, voice dripping with sarcasm as he inches closer.

You stiffen at his proximity, feeling his warmth seep through the layers of blankets and pillows as he chuckles softly, the sound sending shivers down your spine, “Oh, come on, don’t be like that. We used to share a bed all the time.”

“That was before,” you interject. God, you didn’t like where this conversation was going. 

“Before what?” Satoru presses, his voice low and insistent. 

Now, you might’ve let yourself be goaded into sharing a bed but these were old wounds better off left alone. You hiss, tone firm, “Before. Now sleep” 

Before when you didn’t have to make a wall of pillows. Before when he would hold you tight and whisper sweet secrets into your ear. That he’d buy you the biggest ring he saw and promise you the world. Before- 

“I missed you, y’know.” Satoru breaks the silence barely audible over the sound of your own thoughts. The word pangs through your mind and claws at your chest. And at your silence he continues, tone a little lighter, “And stop hogging all the blankets, I’m gonna freeze to-”

“Boardwalk.”

“My apologies, ma’am. Goodnight, ma’am.”

And he sinks back into his pillow with a huff, you let out a sigh of relief. Something hot coiling in your stomach as you close try to catch as much sleep as you possibly could with the bane of your existence laying right beside you. The suddenly taller, dangerously handsome, still as-obnoxious-as-ever bane of your existence. 

You just wonder if he remembered “before”.

Oh, how Satoru remembered “before”. So much so that he had sixteen different playlists dedicated to you even after the breakup.

It’s divine punishment - it has to be. Satoru thinks there’s no reasonable explanation for the series of unfortunate events happening to him other than punishment from his ancestors above for being such a pussy and losing the love of his life.

First he forgets his slippers, then he ends up locked out of his own honeymoon suite by said love of his life. Granted, all thoughts of his poor burnt soles went out the window the moment he caught a glimpse of you in that positively sinful bikini. God, were you glowing. A goddess upon Earth - he could really give the Gojo Satoru of five months ago a good, hard kick.

And now he’s stuck in a - very comfortable - prison with you just inches away, tossing and turning in that way he knows means that you can’t sleep either. 

Honestly, very funny universe, the great Gojo Satoru demands a refund. Way to punk’d him into confronting the feelings he’s desperately been trying to bury these past few months - ever since he got on that plane to Tokyo and contemplated faking a heart attack just to get off. 

Realizing just then that he lost the love of his life - and the only woman who’d tolerate his karaoke nights. But with that realization came another, more jarring one: he was too late. 

Every touch, every laugh, and even every time you rolled your eyes was etched into his very soul, and it felt like a montage from a sappy breakup movie directed by a sadistic screenwriter who had it out for him. 

And it really didn’t help that this was the exact suite he was planning once upon a time to propose in. God, how you’d feed him to the crabs if he said anything about that - nevermind the fact that he was actually one that booked this-

But still, some traitorous, annoying part of his heart interrupts, she still hasn’t made you sleep on the boardwalk yet.

Maybe - just maybe - he’ll wake up to a second chance?

…

Ha. As if.

“I can’t sleep.” Satoru groans out loud, more so to drown out his own thoughts than anything.

“Well, I can. Goodnight.”

Ah, his girl was such a lil’ liar. Undeterred, the mattress creaks as he shuffles his weight to excitedly face you, taking a moment to admire how pretty you looked under the dim moonlight. He plows on, “Hey, if you promise not to make me crab food, wanna walk along the beach and watch the stars?”

A beat of silence. One. Two. so deafening and tense that Satoru was half a second away from obnoxiously laughing it off as a joke and pulling out his Emo Times™ playlist. 

“Or I can go back to the couch and-”

“Shut up. Let’s watch the stars, Satoru.”

But what do you know - maybe the universe hasn’t given up on him just yet. 

And, well, if he woke up the next morning breaching your fortress - your warm breath tickling his neck and his arms wrapped tightly around your waist, like the lifeline he never knew he needed - then, neither of you mentioned it.

---

“Hey, Satoru. You think we’ll always be like this?” you hum into your boyfriend’s chest, barely a whisper as the looming fears of, well, everything ring in your mind. 

He pulls you close, flashing a mischievous grin before planting a dramatic kiss on the top of your head. “Duh, I’ll always be around to drive you dangerously close to a stroke, sweetheart.” 

You roll your eyes, yet bury yourself closer to his warmth anyway.

“Besides, it doesn’t matter if I have to drag you by the leg to Tokyo. Wherever you are is where I belong. ”

---

You’ve come to learn that a resort island is only so big when you’re actively trying to avoid your 6’3 manchild of an ex.

Now that you were rooming with Satoru, sleeping with Satoru (in a literal sense only, of course), and just-so-happening to bump into him at the beach - somehow, talking with him is a little easier, his presence just a bit more exciting than you’d care to admit. 

If the you of four days ago could see what had become of you, then she’d probably slap some sense into you faster than you could say “Kill Bill”. Sleeping in the same bed (still only literally), having dinner, watching the stars - with Gojo Satoru? You’ve gone completely off your rocker. 

But could you really be blamed? These last few days have you feeling like maybe you’ve been dropped into an alternate universe, where you and Satoru never broke up. 

Yet, reality is a persistent little bastard. And with the end of your trip looming dangerously closer, the past you would be cackling mockingly in your face, flashing a large sign in big, red letters reading “I TOLD you so.” 

Whatever. Maybe by this time tomorrow both of you could laugh this all off as a silly little adventure and call yourself somewhat begrudging friends. Maybe you’d even end up unblocking him by the end - on Gmail, at least.

At the very least, dinnertime was a solace - both from your thoughts and the smug bastard talking your ear off about how he could “make that spaghetti better than a thousand Italian grandmothers.”

Until the fourth - and final - night, that is. When the resort, deciding that your current torture wasn’t already enough, arranged a special candlelit dinner. A romantic one. By the beach. With Satoru of all people. 

Great. Wonderful. Perfect, in fact. Going out with a bang. Was this really part of the all-inclusive package? It was like the universe was playing some twisted joke on you - or some awful version of wingmanning. 

You grit your teeth silently as you’re ushered to the beachside table, thoughts barely audible over the waves crashing against the shore and the soft, romantic music drifting from the band nearby. 

The complete opposite of Satoru, who was already seated at the table and enjoying himself far too much for your liking. He lounged back in his chair, a self-satisfied smirk playing on his lips as he watched you sit opposite him uncomfortably.

You hated to admit it - but God was he dangerously beautiful in that crisp white button-up, one that you knew was from his overpriced collection for special occasions. You found yourself fighting to avoid the amber hues twinkling in his eyes as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting warm shadows that bring out his pretty features.

Pretty? So frighteningly pretty - until he speaks, that is.

“And here I thought our honeymoon couldn’t get any worse. You’re sweating bullets, sweetheart. This your first date with me or something?”

“We’re not on a honeymoon, Satoru. And no, it just brings back memories.” you scoff. Relishing in the way he inches his chair closer to listen, clearly not expecting this sudden sentimentality. “Memories of why I blocked you on every social media.”

All but slamming his head down on the table, Satoru whines out, “Ouch, straight for the jugular. That mouth is still as bitchy as ever, huh? Though I do prefer it choking on my-”

“I’m going to throw you into the ocean.”

“Ooo, kinky~” he hums, swirling his wine glass, “But you know what this reminds me of? That one time we had dinner under the stars.”

You froze, the memories suddenly flashing back to you despite your best efforts to suppress them. “Oh yeah,” you muse. A chuckle leaving your mouth despite yourself, “Wasn’t that where you spilled ketchup all over your shirt and then insisted it was a fashion statement?”

He leans in closer, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Hey! It worked, didn’t it? I got compliments from everyone including you.”

“I was just trying to stop you from bursting into tears.” you roll your eyes, shaking your head at the memory. 

“Exactly, sweetheart. Like moths to a flame.”

“More like to a bug-zapper.”

Satoru throws his head back and laughs, loud and unabashed. A sound that echoes across the beach and makes something warm and sticky strum at your heartstrings. And at that moment, that stupid, little part of you didn’t even mind that you were at a special candlelit dinner. A romantic one. By the beach. With Satoru of all people. 

And he didn’t even have to goad you into it with SZA this time.

As the orange glow of the setting sun melded into the cool blue of the night, it almost felt like slipping back into an old routine. The food had long since been finished. Jabs and shared memories flowing through the air like the gentle waves lapping at the shore.

The cool air was now thick with contentment and something so unknown yet so familiar that it made your heart race. 

 “I swear.” you groan over Satoru’s loud cackles, “He tried to charm his way out of the bill by flirting with the waitress. In front of me.”

Satoru doubles over, clutching his stomach as he laughs uproariously. “Classic move! If he’s going to be a cheapskate then he should’ve at least been successful with it.”

Damn, was he eternally grateful for these dim candles. Otherwise you’d surely have caught the rosy flushing tinting his cheeks. How dare you sit there so gorgeous and perfect in front of him. Perfect for him - you haven’t changed one bit.

“Right? She looked ready to fling us both out.” You chuckle, eyes catching on the little dimple just at the corner of his mouth as Satoru shoots you a sly grin. “Mhm, I know if it were me I would’ve charmed us out of the bill successfully.”

You raise a brow, retorting, “Oh please. I’ve had the pleasure of being on the receiving end of that ‘charm’. You’d probably end up charming us into washing dishes in the kitchen.” 

Ah, right now, he doesn’t think he wants to be anywhere but here - bickering with you. 

“Ouch, you wound me, woman!” Satoru feigns offense, placing a hand over his heart dramatically before leaning down to whisper, low and conspiratorial, “Besides, I doubt you even remember what pleasure feels like since being with me.”

A thrill goes down your spine as you realize the insinuation of his words, steady and searing - matching that of  Satoru’s fingers on yours - which had snuck their way across the table, lazily tracing patterns along your skin. 

When did they even get there? Sly bastard.

Your mouth drops into a soft oh! at the dangerous glint in his eyes. But you refuse to back down, “Don’t flatter yourself, Satoru. I’ve had other guys make me cum much harder than you have.”

Touch burning. Mapping every curve and dip he’d known so well, and this time - you graze them back. A challenge. God, you missed that warm little flutter in your chest. 

That seems to catch him by surprise, as those darkened blue eyes widen. But there’s a dangerous edge to his grin as he purrs, voice low. “Is that so?” 

And with that, Satoru’s chair is scraping softly against the sand as he stands up, “C’mon, you’re gonna regret that, sweetheart.”

Oh. 

Satoru knows that it’s been 5 months, 4 weeks, and 8 hours since you two lasted an entire dinner civilly - not that he was counting, duh.

So when he begged the resort staff into setting the two of you up on this special candlelit dinner, he was expecting you to drown him in the lobster tank halfway through or at least end the night with a slap. 

What he certainly did not expect was to end dinner with you shoved against the closed door of your suite, legs wrapped impossibly tight around his waist, and lips trailing hot, openmouthed kisses down your neck. He angles your neck, body pressing so impossibly close to yours.

Inwardly, you curse his button-up for being so goddamn thin that you could feel his abs rub against you with every little movement. Toned chest rumbling as he groans at your hands tugging at those soft locks - just a tiny revenge, for your body lotion. 

“S-Satoru,” you whisper, and he breathes it in with an almost-pained sigh - not wanting to part for even a second. Because fuck it took so long to get you back and he wasn’t going to waste a single moment. 

Pulling just a hair’s breadth away, “Tell me what you want. Always knew we’d end up-”

“Just shut up and kiss me, you smug bastard.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

And, well, who was he to deny you? So he does. 

His lips are searing on yours, hasty and greedy. With a tinge of something so painfully familiar. Your hands make their way onto his chest, feeling the thundering heartbeat against your fingertips - matching that of yours. 

Sweet. You tasted so sweet. Just like honey, and all the dreams where he didn’t leave you behind. Where he didn’t get on that damned plane but instead ran to you all the way from the airport like those sappy romcoms you love. 

He licks at the seam of your lips, drinking in your gasps as he intertwines his tongue with yours. Kissing you like he’ll never be able to again. Because, God, knowing his luck - he probably won’t. 

One hand cups your cheek so gently - a tenderness that doesn’t translate to his lips as he kisses you deeper. Meanwhile the other wanders the expanse of your body, leaving a burning trail of fire in their wake.

Satoru parts with a playful nip to your bottom lip - and before you realize what’s happening, the zipper hits the ground. He’s ripping your pretty dress off - mumbling something about “buying a new one” before large hands surge forward, groping and kneading your tits.

His mouth waters at the sight of your bra. Light blue - to match his eyes. “You evil, evil woman.” he mutters into the soft valley of your breasts as you giggle delightedly. Oh, how he couldn’t get enough of you.

And if there was ever a moment that Satoru thinks he could cream his pants right there, then this would be at the very top, followed very closely by the sight of that withering glare you shot after opening that suite door to him just a few days ago.

He unhooks your bra with one hand, throwing it blindly across the room as if it killed him to see you clothed. 

Immediately, Satoru drops to his knees with the desperation of a madman, coming face-to face with the heavenly sight of your clothed cunt, soaking through your thin panties. 

“Didn’t specify where I had to kiss, sweetheart.”

Your gaze pierces through him, as it always did. “What are you-” Your words get choked up in your throat as his tongue darts out. Licking a long, languid stripe over your clothed cunt. 

“Shit. So sweet f’me, jus’ like I remember. Just one taste and I feel like m’gonna cum in my pants.” Satoru groans, urgently sliding your wet panties down your quivering legs. 

“F-flattery won’t work.” you stammer out as his hot breath fans your quivering entrance as he waits just a second - one, two.

Drinking in the view of your pretty pussy with dazed, half-lidded eyes. Wet - so wet, he almost wants to tease you - just a bit, to see if you’ll get even wetter. Ah, he doesn’t have enough time to take in this view - probably never will. Would it ruin the mood if he took a picture?

“Oh, I’d say it worked pretty well.”

Cock twitching carnally, Satoru needed to taste you now. He immediately surges forward. Breathing you in so sinfully, pooling your juices on his tongue. Eyes rolling to the back of his head as he tips his head back back back to let it slide down his throat. 

Shit, if you were the forbidden fruit then he would gladly be cast out of the garden of Eden. 

Half-delirious thoughts running through his mind, Satoru flattens his tongue across your swollen folds. Leisurely sliding between them, catching on your throbbing clit up and down up and down up and-

“Oh- hngh, Satoru faster-”

“So bossy.” he hums prettily around your swollen clit, the vibrations stimulating it just right. But of course, what his girl wants, she will get. 

Lewd squelches and your mewls of his name ring in the heady room as he speeds up his ministrations. Rolling his tongue harshly along your clit, sucking so sensually. Licking at your sweet cunt, dipping just into your sloppy hole. 

You almost miss the long fingers that deftly slide their way up your thigh, spreading your folds with his thumbs. A low groan sounds at the back of his throat as your walls flutter so sinfully around nothing - aching for more friction. 

Urgently, Satoru bullies his fingers past your folds, sinking deep into your plushy walls as his tongue continues its abuse. So warm and wet around him. Curling his fingers just right.

“Ah- fuck, Satoru- Feels s’good.” you gasp as he starts thrusting his fingers back and forth. A ruthless pace that has tears stinging your eyes, hitting that spot over and over and-

“Oh yeah? Thought you didn’t like my ‘big mouth’?” he purrs, muffled around your clit, “Look at you, sweetheart, now falling apart cos’ of it.”

You scoff, fingers tangling in his silky hair, pushing him deeper into your dripping pussy - mostly because you needed it, but somewhat because you really needed him to shut up. “Yeah, I like it better when you shut the fuck up.”

And with a dark chuckle, his mouth is back on your cunt. Your slick glossy and dripping down the corner of his mouth as he alternates between sucking unforgivingly on your ravaged clit and fucking into you at the same time as his fingers. 

And in the delicious stretch of your cunt, you barely register the metallic clinking of a belt before Satoru presses his clothed erection into you.

Shit. You clench so obscenely around his tongue at the feeling of his clothed, painfully hard and throbbing against your leg. Fuck - as big as you remember. You weren’t gonna be able to walk for a while.

“You like this, huh?” he murmurs, speeding up the rhythm of his fingers. Vibrations sending white-hot jolts of pleasure down your spine.

Cracking an eye open you risk a glance downward. Greedily eyeing the hand wrapped tightly around the base, moving up up up. Pumping in small, jerky movements at the same pace of his fingers fucking into you. “Like the way m’getting off to tonguefucking my girl?”

“Like thinking about how this is what I thought about all those lonely fucking night without you?” You arch into his touch, fingers searing on his scalp and angling Satoru just right to make your knees weak. 

He’s so close that you can feel the precum smearing onto your leg. Mouth fucking you in a way you knew he wanted to with his cock right now. Rough and unrelenting. 

“Like thinking about how you’re all I can fucking think about.”

“Hngh- Yes, Satoru! Yes-” 

You see stars as you cum - or maybe those were the tears in your eyes. Pulling Satoru impossibly closer to your quivering pussy so that you could ride out your high on his pretty face. And he readily accepts it - letting himself be handled roughly with the conviction of a man that wouldn’t mind dying if it was suffocating in-between your pretty thighs. 

Your vision is hazy, blood still roaring in your ears as Satoru stands up. Not even bothering to wipe away the wet trail of your slick prettily glossing his lips before capturing yours in a searing kiss. 

“Y’know, sweetheart,” he gasps in between heated kisses. “We got a king-sized bed so we better make use of it, hm?”

Your back hits the mattress before you can even react. Reeling from shock and the audacity as you bounce at the sheer force of his throw. 

“Next time you do that you’re-” 

Whatever insult at the tip of your tongue melts away immediately at the purely pornographic sight of Satoru stalking his way towards you from the foot of the bed. Eyes hooded, cock rock-hard, kiss-bitten lips parted slightly in a way that was so fucked-out.

Unhurriedly approaching you with such a predatory glint in his darkened eyes as he fucks his fist slowly - so agonizingly slowly. Eyes locked on you.

Despite cumming not even minutes before, your pussy jumps in anticipation. Immediately reaching over as soon as he’s close enough - as if in a trance - to replace his hand with yours. 

He was big - so mouthwateringly big. Flushed your favorite shade of pink at his leaking tip, pulsing veins glistening in the dim light - every part of Satoru was so unfairly pretty.

So hot and heavy in your hand as you pump him at a steady, methodical pace. Precum smearing on your palm, trailing down your wrist as you pump. Tighter on the base, thumbing teasingly under his slit the way you knew he used to like. 

“Oh fuck, sweetheart. Still remember, huh?” he hisses lowly. Ah, the way he still likes. 

“Mhm.” you hum absentmindedly, thighs clenching together at the way his hips grind in shallow, mindless little motions into your soft hand. Meeting your strokes as if trying to fuck something so delicious out of him.

And, well, you just couldn’t resist a taste. Bending down in one, fluid motion to delicately lick at his angry, hard head. Slightly salty taste on your tongue as you swipe at the droplets of precum pooling on his tip. Tracing lightly - ever-so-lightly - down his prominent veins. 

Satoru groans, low and hoarse with desire, “Shit, hah- you don’ ngh- have to-”

“Shut up, Satoru.” 

And with that, you’re shoving down as much as you can of his throbbing erection down your throat. Cunt clenching at the way he hardens impossibly as you choke and gag around him.

“Shit, oh- Oh fuck, m’girl. Yes yes yes-.” Satoru lets out a guttural moan. Fingers threading through your hair as he uses it as leverage to fuck himself slowly, deeper and deeper into your heavenly mouth. Hips stuttering and jerky with pleasure. Yeah, he definitely missed this. 

Half-delirious and cock-drunk, you take him all the way till your nose was buried in the tufts of white at his toned pelvis, already so wet with saliva and precum. 

Still got it, some smug, utterly debauched part of yourself titters. 

It was dizzying, the way he was pulsing in your throat, his heady scent filling your senses. Beginning to move up and down up and down in hasty, desperate bobs of your head. Pulling such lewd gasps and moans from his lips. 

You moan around Satoru’s thick cock, clawing at his toned hips for some semblance of stability. Some truly animalistic part of yourself relishing in the neat, red lines down his milky skin. The sight hazy through the tears that spring to your eyes at the way his fat tip hits your abused throat. A relentless, sinful tempo you were steadily losing your mind to.

Messy.  It was so fucking messy.

You just wondered if his orgasm would be the same…

But, alas, one can’t always get what they want. Because Satoru pulls you off of his achingly hard cock with a lewd pop! that rings in his ears and makes your cunt twitch. 

“Shit, sweetheart. Any longer and I’ll have to start thinking about ol’ Prof. Gakuganji to not cum.” he pants through ragged breaths, flashing you a deceptively innocent grin. “Now, lay back and spread ‘em f’me and let me see if your pretty pussy can still handle me.”

And that you don’t argue with. 

It’s almost embarrassing - the way you scramble desperately to sink back into the mattress. Letting Satoru manhandle your legs open so shamefully for him, throwing them over his muscled shoulders. But that’s a problem for the future, not lust-drunk you. 

Right now you couldn’t give less of a fuck as his hungry gaze locks on your glistening pussy. Pausing for just a split-second before spitting once. Twice. Thrice onto your waiting cunt. Making you feel more and more like an object as the warm saliva mixes obscenely with your slick, trickling down to form such a sinful pool on the sheets below. 

And you liked it.

Almost as much as you loved the way Satoru drags his tip along your swollen folds, catching so maddeningly on your clit. Teasingly pooling your slick on his leaking head. It was so sloppy. And too slow. 

“Satoru, I’ve waited five months too long for this. If you’re going to fuck me then fuck me like you mean it.” you grit out, frustration and pure need boiling over within you. 

“Oh? So it’s like that, huh?” 

And maybe you were a mastermind, maybe you were an idiot - probably both. Because Satoru immediately pushes in one, long thrust into your dripping cunt. Your words catch pathetically in your throat as he loses grip on whatever semblance of restraint he had - or his sanity - whichever one would break you first. 

Fuck, it feels so heavenly. Oh, how you missed him.

Bowing his body down down down till his damp forehead met yours. Folding you completely underneath him in the way you’ve found that only the smug bastard, Gojo Satoru can. 

You could almost sob at the stretch as he presses in - deliciously painful, borderline insane, and exactly what you’d been trying to deny that you’d been craving all these past five months. Being split apart on his throbbing cock, feeling like you were about to be absolutely devoured underneath him. 

It seems Satoru was just as needy for you, hot and throbbing agonizingly inside you, each little bump bump bump against your walls matching that of your heart thundering against your chest. 

Or was that Satoru’s? At this point you couldn’t even tell. 

“Oh, god yes-, jus’ like that ah shit shit shit-”

“This what you wanted, yeah?” A low growl leaves his throat at how sinfully your walls were milking him as he pulls back. All the way till his leaking tip was just innocently kissing your sloppy hole - only to ram his cock all the way back into your snug cunt. “To be split apart on my cock?” 

Shit, he could just about pass out right now with the way your cunt was sucking him in so greedily like she never wanted to part. 

Guess she missed him too, he thinks deliriously. Not even having to think about it as he starts fucking into you in shallow, mindless little thrusts. Pushing himself deeper and deeper into your plushy cunt. 

“Äh- fuck, yeah. S’all I’ve wanted.” you mewl, feeling so vulnerable and exposed under the hungry eyes boring into yours. A dark gleam in them as he grins, “Then take it back.”

Disoriented, you gasp out a strangled, “What?” before Satoru’s hips become rougher, chasing his high as much as yours. 

“What you said at dinner.” your lips fall into a soft oh! as you realize just what he’s talking about, “Admit that no man makes you cum as hard as I do.”

God, you don’t think you could answer even if you wanted to, choking on the harsh, purposeful movements of his hips just to fuck your soul out. 

Heavy balls stinging your skin, the lewd sounds of skin-on-skin fills the heady air. Driving you to insanity. An absolutely unforgiving cadence that has the bed creaking in protest. Ah, whatever, he could buy them a new one anyway if this one just so happens to break.

“Take it back yet?” He had to break you first though.

Slick gushes out of your heated cunt, dripping down his length and pooling at his heavy balls, stinging your ass at each merciless thrust. “No.” 

A large hand hastily makes its way down to draw rough, frenzied little circles on your throbbing clit. Voice strangled, sweat beading on his forehead, thrusts becoming increasingly sloppier. “How about now?”

“Ah- hngh- oh fuck. Satoru!” You could only moan softly in response, broken whimpers leaving you each time his tip kissed your cervix. Angling his hips just right to expertly brush against that one spot he knew so well would have you keening and bucking up into his cock. Your face almost burns at the sheer familiarity of it all. This bastard knew you too well. 

And something about that made such an uncomfortable, prickly feeling pool in your stomach. 

Something which you knew would only be sated if you looped your arms around his neck. Nails digging into his sculpted back as you pulled him impossibly closer.

Kissing his flushed cheeks as he murmurs, “Take it back, sweetheart.”

Despite the thick cock splitting you in half till you probably couldn’t walk tomorrow morning, you find it in yourself to huff out a soft laugh at the way Satoru’s tone teetered on just that endearing side of sulky. “Fine. You win, Toru.” you whisper into his lips,

And then you’re cumming. White-hot pleasure flashing behind your eyes and Satoru’s lips gently slotting against yours as he fucked you through your high. Acting as if the fucked-out whimper of his nickname is one he’ll never forget. 

As if he couldn’t cum simply from hearing it leave your pretty lips. And he does, shooting thick, hot ropes of cum painting your plushy walls white with a raw groan of your name. It oozes out of your cunt and onto the mess of sheets below as he fucks his seed into you as a lover would. As he would. 

It was intoxicating - everything from the way you milked his cock so sinfully, to the arms tight around his shoulders. Pulling him close, running soothingly along his skin as Satoru collapses onto you with a final, fucked-out thrust. 

And despite being a lightweight, Satoru’s never been so easily drunk off of something than he was off of you. God how he missed this - how he missed you. 

So much so that he can’t put it into words - and probably won’t ever be able to. But it’s alright, because your sticky body snug against his, and Satoru arms tenderly around your waist - but you didn’t mind. Both of you understood.

Satoru traces his fingers lazily along your side, neither of you bothering to tackle the mammoth task of cleaning up for now. Each movement slow and gentle, as if any sudden movement might shatter the delicate balance between you. 

All is quiet in your little haven, and you could almost fall asleep. The most contented one you’ve had in a while - 5 months, 3 weeks, and 7 hours ago to be exact.

But, of course, Satoru can’t keep his mouth shut for nothing. You jolt out of your reverie as he hastily tries to stifle the startled laugh that huffs out of him. Your dazed eyes meet his in the dim lighting, raising a brow in question.

“It’s just…” he starts, voice soft, “You still call me Toru. Feels like home.”

Ah.

You find yourself chuckling softly with him. Heat rushing to your cheeks, burying yourself deeper into his warm chest, to hide the embarrassingly flustered smile breaking out across your face if anything. 

Chuckling, Satoru shifts closer, touch now feather-light against your cheek, tracing the line of your jaw with his fingertips. Faltering ever-so-slightly as you mutter out, “Happy anniversary, by the way. I didn’t say it earlier because someone was being a public menace.”

“Hey! It’s not my fault that someone locked me out of my own honeymoon suite.” he laughs, drinking in your pretty lil’ smile. 

Ah, you were perfect. As you always were. Satoru can’t help but utter out a little, “Hey, if I tell you something absolutely stupid, would you promise not to make me fish food?”

“Absolutely not.”

He knew you’d say that. So he flashes you an easy grin, a hint of nervousness in it that he’s sure you see through - you always do. 

“So…” he begins, “First thing’s first, I’m thinking of expanding my father’s company further overseas and it might just so happen that I’m leading the branch development and get to pick where exactly.”

God, you made him feel like such a teenager. At your stunned silence, Satoru could barely raise his eyes to meet yours as he plows on, stumbling so uncharacteristically over his words, “You, I picked where you are.”

You’re breathless, words barely audible as his sinks in. “What? Toru that’s-”

“And don’t be mad but you kinda sorta didn’t-win-the-raffle-so-instead-I-planned-this-getaway-when-we-were-together.”

Any and every trace of breathless euphoria leaves your tone as you narrow your eyes at the very guilty Satoru beside you. Fidgeting under your intense scrutiny. Finally - after what seems like an eternity - you find your senses after his whiplash-inducing information dump. 

A hand immediately shoots out to squeeze his side, right where you knew he was dangerously ticklish.

“You sneaky little-” you scold over his laughed out yells of, “Mercy! No murder on our honeymoon!” squirming helplessly beneath you.

“I can’t believe you let me chug all that ice cream.”

“Exactly- hah- help! You w-would’ve been so sad that you ah- didn’t win.” he manages to choke out under your attack.

Finally relenting, only once you’re sure he’ll be feeling the burn of laughter until your flight tomorrow, you release him from your grasp. A satisfied smirk playing on your lips as you lean in close. “You’re lucky I still love you, you smug bastard” you deadpan.

“Aww, you beat me to it.” Satoru whines. Yet he reaches out to cup your cheek, “And I love you,” words hanging in the air like a promise. “With every fiber of my being.”

You let yourself be begrudgingly pulled into his embrace again, hands caressing along your skin like the highest form of worship. Satoru sighs out a contented, “Best honeymoon ever.” 

But of course, you couldn’t help but bully your idiotic boyfriend. “This is not a honeymoon, Toru.” you mutter into his heated skin.

He only presses you closer to him. Yeah maybe not, fingers deftly dancing along your left hand. But maybe next time. 

“Wanna watch the stars and tell me all about that branch development?”

“Of course, sweetheart, but first can you at least unblock me on Gmail now?”

“...”

You broke up with Gojo Satoru exactly 5 months, 3 weeks, and 12 hours ago. And as for how long it’s been since he won you back - well, you think it might just be one of the few things you didn’t keep count of.

A/N. Based on my vacay at Lily Beach except I didn’t meet my future husband there :0

Plagiarism not authorized.

good things will happen 🧿

things that are meant to be will fall into place 🧿

pairing. nakahara chuuya x fem puppy girl reader

synopsis. struggling with your sense of humanity and prone to losing to higher instinct, you and chuuya share more than one'd think. though he's never thought of himself as fit for an owner or a partner, that fateful night chuuya becomes both.

current wc: 7.3k

warnings. nsfw (parts 3 & 4). minors & ageless blogs do not interact. mentions of past trauma, abuse & canon typical themes, not too dark/angsty though i promise!, hybrids & appropriate pet names/vocabulary, collaring, reader goes into heat, slight dom/sub themes, switch!chuuya, more tba! please mind individual chapter tags & warnings ❥

notes. eeee first proper bsd fic!! i'm so very excited :3 i'm still getting a hang of my characterization of chuuya but i adore the boy too much. . . also happens to be my first hybrid fic on here so i hope you enjoy the ride <3

୨ৎ CHAPTER LIST.

part one. fall back into place. wc: 3.9k

part two. i bet on losing dogs. wc: 3.4k

part three. talk to me like lovers do.

part four. here comes the rain again.

© 2024 fedyenkas. do not copy any writing or layouts; do not repost/mention my works on other social media.

MONSTER (m.)

neighbor!simon riley x reader

tags: zombie apocalypse au, neighbors to lovers, afab!reader, no pronouns, hurt/comfort, smut, NO MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH

cw: description of corpses, simon is aggressive towards you, but also very soft!simon, protective!simon, violence, simon does murder someone, lots of kissing, wet&messy sex, multiple orgasms, edging (simon), missionary position, mating press, fingering, cunnilingus, creampie, breast play, squirting, overstimulation, dirty talk, pet names, eye contact, praise, teeny bit talkin u thru it

note: i think that's all the neccessary warnings but if u think smthn else should be added, let me know. please enjoy this MONSTER fic!!!

; you find yourself hiding out in your apartment as the undead begin walking. luckily, you have a well-trained military operative as a neighbor who is more than willing to keep you safe.

16.5k

“Residents are advised to remain in their homes. Authorities are unsure what is causing the severe aggression in people but the military has been called in nationwide. Please stay tuned as more information becomes available.” 

That was the first news broadcast. They reported  people getting sick-- airborne is what they had said. Stay inside, and stay away from other people. 

So you did just that – stayed hidden away in your apartment, glued to your television for every possible news cast that you could get. 

It was only a week later that the whole story had come out. 

The airborne strain is what caused the first swell of infections. Anyone who was susceptible to the infection would have already become sick by now. But those who were infected by the airborne strain turned…feral. They became like wild animals, barely human. Their skin rotted around them while they were still alive. Their brains died but their hearts remained pumping. They were walking corpses that had a vicious hunger for human flesh. 

The bites are what caused the following wave of infections. Something in their saliva turned you into whatever they were. 

You were scared. When you looked outside your window, down just a few floors to the ground, you could see hordes of people stumbling around, shuffling and shambling. 

Sometimes you would hide in your bathroom as the sounds of gunfire filled the city. It was the worst when it was the middle of the night. 

You weren’t equipped to deal with a disaster of this level – humans turning into disease spreading killers. You were having to ration your food, waiting for the day that there would be an announcement that it was safe. 

You wanted it all to be over. 

Then the news broadcasts stopped, cell service dropped, and the populace was left in the dark. 

You kept the lights off in your apartment, scared that the wandering hordes outside would see it and find you.

You had no idea how long you had been hiding in your apartment, spending most nights with your knees to your chest as you watched the static on the TV. You held out hope that the news broadcast would come back, but it never did. You spent the days and nights in mundane monotony, hopelessness settling in. 

The only interruption was a heavy knock on your front door, practically making you jump out of your skin at the sound of it. You hadn’t expected anyone to actually approach your apartment in search of you. It terrified you that anyone could be out there at a time like this.

With wide eyes and trembling hands, you grabbed a kitchen knife off of your counter and tiptoed towards the front door. Peeking through the peep-hole, you let out a heavy sigh of relief. 

Throwing the door open, you were faced with the familiar balaclava of your neighbor across the hall.

“Simon…” you whispered in relief. 

He wasn’t lunging nor did he have the milky-white eyes of the undead that you had seen on the news. He was normal. 

“What’re you planning to do with that?” he asked, eyeing the kitchen knife still in your hand.

“Oh!” you gasped, quickly placing it on the table by your front door, “Sorry, you– you– startled me when you knocked. Would you like to come in?”

His lidded, brown eyes gaze around your apartment behind you before landing on you again, “You have anyone else in there?”

You blink and slowly shake your head, “No, I’m alone.”

His brows furrow at that, “You’ve been by yourself this whole time?”

You shrug and nod, “What else was I supposed to do? The news reports said to stay inside…”

He hums, “Are you sick?”

“No, I’m fine,” you respond quickly, “Why?”

Suddenly there’s a hand on your forehead and you realize he’s checking your temperature. You remain still and allow him to do it before he's shoving his hands in his hoodie pockets. 

“Fever’s the first symptom,” he explains, “I’m goin’ door to door to check on everyone.”

“Oh!” you gasp, smiling, “That’s very nice of you, Simon.”

You knew that Simon was in the military. He was often out on long deployments and sometimes he had tasked you with keeping an eye on his apartment since you were right across the hall from him.

He was a nice enough guy, if not a little cold and blunt. He was tall and broad, clearly well built despite the fact that he usually wore a hoodie that hid his biceps from view. You’d gotten glimpses of his tattoos when you had knocked on his door one evening and asked him if he knew anything about water heaters because your hot water had been out for nearly a month in the dead of winter and the apartment manager hadn’t done anything to help you.

Simon had kindly come to your apartment, even though it was nearing midnight, rolled his sleeves up and fixed your problem within the hour. You had baked him cookies as a thank you that following weekend. 

“How is everyone doing..?” you venture to ask, leaning against the doorjamb as a breeze flows into your apartment from the open door.

He casts a glance down the hallway, almost like he’s thinking before sighing, “Few people are sick. They’ve been…” he hesitates for a moment, “Quarantined.”

“Probably for the best,” you respond, “Keep them from hurting anyone when they…turn.”

It feels so surreal to be talking about confining people to keep them from literally eating the healthy people. But it seems that’s where you’re all at now. 

“I’m going to barricade our floor,” he says suddenly, “Keep anyone from comin’ in that’s not supposed to come in.”

“What if we need to leave?” you ask, concerned, “We’re only going to have finite food and resources between us. The power’s also going to go out sooner rather than later, Simon.”

“I know,” he sighs, “But we should stay indoors for as long as possible. When the power runs out and we run out of supplies, we can figure out what to do next,” he explains, “The military was on the ground here last I heard, you’ve heard the gunshots. I don’t believe they’ll last much longer but it’s not wise for us to go out while they’re tryin’ to eliminate as many of these…undead as they can.”

“I guess that makes sense…” you whisper before his words finally settle on you, “What do you mean you don’t think they’ll last much longer..?”

He levels a hard stare at you that makes your heart race in anxiety. Simon was always a serious individual by nature but this is how you imagine he looks when he’s on duty, “Hundreds of thousands of people are sick out there. The airborne strain no doubt got to hundreds of the soldiers meant to be protecting the civilians. Eventually, they’ll eat each other from the inside out –literally.”

“You mean even the military is going to collapse..?” you ask, horrified. You try not to let the tears fill your eyes but Simon’s words fill you with a dreadful sense of hopelessness. 

“Communications are cut,” he says finally, “Radio’s been silent all day. Not sure what’s goin’ on but it’s not good.”

The tears quickly began to fall down your cheeks. Before you could wipe them away, a calloused thumb was doing it. You sniffled and looked up at him.

“I-I don’t know what I’m supposed to do,” you confessed softly, “I don’t know how I’m supposed to survive, Simon.”

“Don’t you worry about that, love,” he whispered, grabbing your chin gently to make you look up at him, “I’ll take care of you, yeah?”

“I don’t want to be a burden…” you explain, wrapping your arms protectively around yourself. 

“Wouldn’t be the first time I took care of you,” he joked, though it held little humor, “You won’t be a burden. I’ll teach you what you need to know, alright?”

“You will?” he nods when you look up at him hopefully and you smile, “Thank you, Simon. I don’t really want to die by getting eaten by walking corpses.”

He chuckled under his mask, brown eyes crinkling around the edges a bit, “It is pretty fuckin’ mad, isn’t it?” You laugh, the first genuine smile you’ve cracked since before that first news broadcast, “Why don’t you come across the hall and stay with me, yeah?”

“Is that okay..?” You can’t deny the idea of being with company sounded more appealing than anything. You were definitely beginning to feel the ebbs of loneliness creeping in on you as the days of silence passed. Plus, Simon was…safe, “The news said not to…mingle in case of the disease spreading.”

He scoffed, “Rules like that don’t really apply anymore, love,” he mutters softly, “Plus, neither of us is sick so it’s not like we’ll spread it anyway. I can teach you some knife work and how to use a gun easier if we’re together, yeah?”

“Okay,” you smile, excitement surging in your chest, replacing the painful void of hopelessness you had, “Let me just get some things together and I’ll be right over, okay?”

“Sounds good, love,” you can tell he’s smiling under the mask. He gives you a pat on the shoulder before stepping away, “Just knock when you’re ready.”

You stand in your doorway until he disappears into his apartment. Once you’re alone, you cast a cursory glance around your living room, eyeballing everything you need to take before you dash into your bedroom. From the back of your closet, you grab a duffle bag that you have stowed away in the back of your closet from when you first moved in.

Navigating in the dark of your apartment was a bit of a challenge but you managed to stuff all the essentials into the bag. After slinging it over your shoulder, you step out of your apartment, making sure it was locked before knocking on Simon’s door. 

He opened it quickly, still wearing the same hoodie, jeans, and balaclava as before – his hood still up as well. He stepped aside for you to enter.

Unlike you, his apartment was illuminated by lamps – but his windows were covered with blackout curtains so no light would seep outside. It was pretty plainly decorated, just the essentials and a few photographs on the walls; upon closer inspection it looked like him and, you assumed, his comrades. 

You went to place your bag down but he stopped you, “I cleared out a drawer for you to put your clothes in for the time bein’.”

“Oh…” you gaped at him, surprised to hear that he had done something like that for you, “Thank you, Simon.”

He led you to his bedroom, standing in the hallway while you walked in. His bedroom was darkly decorated, black out curtains on the windows, navy blue sheets and a black comforter on his bed. His furniture was all dark toned as well. 

It suited him, you thought.

There were two drawers open and empty, letting you know that those were yours for the taking. You knelt down and opened your duffle bag, carefully folding and placing your items inside. When you got to your undergarments, you cast a glance towards the door to find that he was no longer standing there. Breathing a sigh of relief, you quickly filled the top drawer with all of your delicates before closing the drawers and standing up. 

Flicking on the light to his en suite bathroom, you placed your toothbrush and toothpaste alongside his, the sight making you blush before you went to add your belongings into the shower as well. 

Realistically, you knew that the water was going to go out sooner or later but you planned to enjoy it for as long as you possibly could until then. 

When you ventured into the living room, Simon was in the kitchen, the cabinets open as he scanned over all of his belongings.

“Is something wrong..?” you asked softly.

“Thinkin’ of how to ration,” he replied quickly, “Have you got any stuff over at yours still?”

You nod your head, “It’s not much but I have some canned food and like...rice and stuff if you want that.”

“Yeah, it’ll be good to consolidate all our supplies in the long run,” he explained, “You got your keys?”

“Yes!” you pull your keyring from your pocket and drop it into his open palm.

“I’ll be right back love, make yourself at home,” he gave you a gentle nudge towards the couch before leaving you there. 

You took a seat on the couch, realizing just how tired you were. You hadn’t realized how tense you’re been for so long on your own. Now that you were safe and with company, you could almost feel the tension sliding right off of you. You rested your head against the back of the couch and closed your eyes, intending to just rest your eyes and enjoy the peace you felt. 

You were startled awake by the sound of the door slamming shut. You nearly jumped out of your skin, wide eyes finding Simon’s who looked a little sheepish.

“Sorry, love,” he whispered, “Didn’t realize you’d be sleepin’.”

“Didn’t mean to…” you confess, standing up and stretching, watching Simon lug a bag of food into the kitchen.

“Haven’t been sleepin’ well?” he asked, his back to you as he began to stock up the cabinets. 

“Not really…” with a sigh, you lean back against the counter with your arms crossed over your chest, “I’ve been stressed about this whole situation.”

“It is…” he pauses in his words, placing a bag of dried beans into the cabinet, “Nothing I’ve ever seen before.”

“Society is really collapsing around us, isn’t it?” you bravely ask, although you were scared to hear the answer.

“Yeah, darlin’,” his voice is softer than you’ve ever heard it and that brings a fresh wave of tears to your eyes.

“This is so fucked up,” you cry, burying your face in your hands, “Thank you, Simon. You didn’t have to offer to help me and I really owe you a lot.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he closes the cabinet, the bag he brought finally empty before turning to you, “I’ll make sure you know everything you need to know to survive.”

“I doubt I’ll be as good as you,” you joke, a crooked, wobbly smile on your face. 

He steps forward and cups your chin, brushing his thumb against your cheek, “No one’s as good as me, sweetheart.”

You chuckle softly at his words. 

This is what you needed – someone by your side to keep you sane as society collapsed and everyone that you knew died. 

That night, you slept better than you had in days. Simon had given you his bed, offering to take the couch. You had argued, telling him that you couldn’t take his bed like that. 

“I’m up most nights anyway, love,” he had assured you, “At least someone around here can get a good night’s sleep in that bed.”

When you woke up, fully rested you might add, Simon was already awake, drinking some tea. You sat down beside him, enjoying a nice quiet morning.

“How do you feel about learnin’ some basics today, love?” he asked when he was cleaning his mug. 

“Sure!” you agreed, “I have to warn you though, I really know next to nothing…”

“That’s alright,” he chuckled, waving to you to follow him to the living room, “I’m a good teacher, I promise.”

“I don’t doubt that,” you watched as he stood up and went to a closet in the hallway, pulling out an assortment of bags and carriers.

He placed them down beside the couch and took a seat next to you. “I think it’s best if we start with you gettin’ comfortable with the feeling of holding a weapon in your hands,” he explained, pulling out a knife bigger than any you’ve seen, “This is a hunting knife.”

He handed it towards you, his fingers confidently gripping the blade between two fingers. You wrapped your hand around the handle, testing its weight in your hands. It was dangerous and nerve-wracking, holding a weapon in your hands. 

“I know it’s scary,” he assured, “But when you’re comfortable holding knives then you can learn to use them properly to protect yourself.”

“What about guns..?” you find yourself asking, still gripping the knife in your hands, turning it over and adjusting your grip just to desensitize yourself to it. 

“We’ll tackle guns when you get used to knives,” he replied.

“So you have guns?” you ask, letting him pull the hunting knife from your hands.

“Of course I do,” he reaches into a bag by his feet, pulling out a pistol. 

Your eyes go wide as you watch him handle it effortlessly, checking the chamber and moving it around in his hands like it wasn’t a dangerous weapon.

“When you’re ready, I’ll teach you to properly use one so you can use it in case of an emergency,” he explained, placing the pistol on the table carefully.

“I’m going to have to kill other people…” you mutter to yourself.

Simon pulled out another knife, passing it into your hands, “Combat knife,” he supplied simply, “And you’ll have to kill them but…I don’t think they’re people anymore, love.”

“I guess that’s true…” you mutter, holding the knife with a firm grip, “I’ve only seen them on the news before it stopped broadcasting. What about you?”

“Haven’t seen ‘em in person either,” he replies with a shrug, “Some of my…teammates,” the words seem awkward coming from his mouth but he continued, “Were givin’ me some information before they went radio silent.”

“What happened to them?” you couldn’t help but ask.

A brief flash of sadness flashed over his eyes but he quickly sobered up, leaning back against the couch with a sigh, “Not a clue. I guess there’s no way for me to know. I just know it was getting bad. Dangerous.”

“I’m sorry about your teammates,” was all you could find in supply of an answer.

Simon didn’t respond, simply letting his gaze fall back on the knife, “Let me show you some handling techniques for you to practice.”

Realizing that he didn’t want to talk about the world outside anymore, you let him lead you through a crash course on knife handling and knife safety. He took the time to teach you the different kinds of knives in his possession and you nodded along as best you could but if you’re being honest – it was primarily lost on you.

You’re not sure if Simon knew that but he seemed to enjoy teaching you, so you let him ramble on to his heart’s content. 

By the end of the day, you were confident enough in at least not accidentally cutting yourself on the sharp blades. 

In order to repay him, you made dinner for the both of you – though, really, it was just some heated up canned soup-- and did the dishes for him so he didn’t have to.

By the end of the night, you both found yourselves on the couch, watching a movie he had put on. With there being no way to watch anything else, you were grateful he had a collection of movies to his name – you simply streamed your favorite shows and movies and called it a day. 

It ticked late into the night and before you knew it, you were falling asleep on the couch, leaned against his shoulder. You could feel him shift and knew you should open your eyes, but the tugs of sleep at the edges of your subconscious kept you from doing so. Suddenly, you felt the soft beat of his heart against your ear and the heavy weight of his arm laid across you. You briefly registered that you were now wrapped in his arms before the final tug of sleep pulled you under.

When you woke up, you were in bed. 

And Simon wasn’t in the apartment. 

“Simon..?” you called, looking around everywhere for him – to no avail. 

You ventured to the door, carefully pulling it open and stepping out. You looked down the hall towards the stairwell before you heard a grunt of effort from the other end. 

“Simon!” you called, making him look up.

“What’re you doin’ out here?” he asked, pausing in his task of pushing a large bookcase towards the elevator. 

“You weren’t inside…” you mutter, wandering down the hall towards him, “What’re you doing?”

“Barricading this elevator,” he replied, giving the heavy object another push with a grunt of effort. 

“Oh, right, you mentioned you wanted to do that,” you mumbled, taking a moment to look over him.

He wasn’t wearing his hoodie for once, instead wearing a tight black t-shirt that was sticking to his skin with sweat. He wore his jeans with a holster and gun on his hip as well. 

“Do you need any help?” you asked but he shook his head.

“No, you can’t help with this, love,” he grunted, giving the bookcase one final, heavy push before it was flush against the elevator doors. 

It was then that you noticed the straps nailed to the wall. He took them and secured them to the other side of the elevators, making sure the bookcase was fastened firmly. 

“Enough people push this and it’ll come down but at least it’s secure enough,” he explained, giving his work a final once over.

“Do you know where the others are?” you find yourself asking as he makes his way to the other end of the hallway

He pauses at that, seemingly thinking of his next words carefully, “I checked door to door. Most of our neighbors got the hell out to go see their families when everything went to shit. A few…were sick and turned in their apartments so I had to…put them down.”

You cringed at his wording, you knew he was trying to phrase it delicately for you but you weren’t sure if you would have preferred him to just say he killed them. ‘Put them down’ made it sound like they were rabid dogs and not people you once knew and smiled at in the halls. 

“Found some notes in some of them,” Simon said suddenly, waving you to follow him back to the apartment – to safety, “Guess we can only hope they made it to their families in one piece.”

“I hope so,” you muttered optimistically, slipping past him when he opened the front door for you.

You quickly realize how difficult it is to tell how much time is passing with Simon’s blackout curtains, which he refused to allow you to open for fear of attracting any unwanted attention. With there being no more news broadcasts or anything on TV, you didn’t even know the date anymore and you were too scared to ask for fear of knowing how long you’ve been living like this. Your food rations were slowly dwindling but neither of you talked about it. 

You know you’re still waking up in the mornings and sleeping at night – Simon seems to run on an extremely specific schedule. When you asked him about it, he told you it was from the military, which made sense. Either way, you were grateful to him for helping you keep on track.

The water and power were both still on, but Simon kept telling you not to keep your hopes up about it lasting long. 

You spent your days learning knife etiquette and practicing stabbing various targets that Simon made for you. You’ve grown much more confident. Of course, you would be no match for your teacher himself but against a bumbling walking corpse? You were sure you would be able to at least buy yourself time to escape if you needed. 

Eventually, Simon decided it was time to move onto what you were most scared of – guns. 

“I’m going to tell you a few things before I let you hold this,” he said, eyes hardened to show how serious he was as he held a pistol in his hands, “Are you paying attention?”

“Of course,” you breathe, wringing your hands in front of you as you eye the weapon.

“You can’t be scared of your weapons,” he advises, “You need to be confident and sure with every movement you make. It’s not a toy.”

“Hard not to be scared of it…” you confess, “What if I hurt someone with it or…I don’t know.”

“That’s why I’m teaching you all this,” he says, “You’ll get confident and less scared the more you handle them. We’re startin’ you off simple and you can build up to bigger and badder guns. For now…pistols will do.”

“Okay,” you swallow around the nervous lump in your throat, “Tell me what I need to know.”

“That’s the spirit,” he praises, holding the pistol up for you to see how he grips it, “First, never put your finger on the trigger unless you’re going to shoot. Just rest your finger on the side like this, see,” he turns his hand and lets you see the way he keeps his finger hovering beside the trigger rather than on it. 

You nod your head, “Got it.”

“Take it,” he says, “Carefully.”

You stare at the offered weapon for just a moment before you reach out and delicately take it from his hands, “Next, never point it at anyone you don’t intend to shoot. Whether it’s loaded or not, keep it pointed away from people and yourself.”

You mimic his grip, grimacing when you realize it's actually much heavier than you thought it would be. It was definitely going to take practice before you built up the ability to hold it for long periods. You follow his instructions and keep it pointed to the ground – albeit awkwardly.

“Here,” he suddenly steps behind you.

You feel your heart catch in your chest when you feel him press against your back. He’s incredibly warm and firm as you lean against him. He carefully takes your hands in his, supporting your hands and holding the gun eye level.

“Just practice lining up your sight and lookin at a target,” he says.

His face is so close to yours, his voice right in your ear, deep and gravelly with that heavy accent. You struggle to process his words, hoping to god he doesn’t hear how fast your heart has started racing.

You close one eye and focus on aiming at a photo on his wall, a small picture frame. His large, gloved hands dwarf your own and you’re suddenly overwhelmed by the scent of him. He smells like cigarettes and the body wash you may have taken a quick whiff of when you used his shower for the first time. You find yourself wondering when he has time to smoke since you’ve never actually seen him do it. 

Your mind is blank beyond anything other than him. How big and warm he is, how safe you feel with him wrapped around you, how good he smells and how much you love his voice as he utters tips and commands into your ear – sickly sweet in that way he always seems to talk to you. 

If you focused too much on it, you’d slowly come to the realization that you may have a crush on him. But you quickly dash that thought from your head and focus back on his gun lesson as he teaches you how to eject a magazine with ease. 

This is about survival. Neither of you have time to dwell on a silly crush. 

A few days later, you’re standing in the eerie hallway with him. He had offered for you to just stay in the apartment and relax while he did the work but you honestly didn’t want to be alone so you opted to sit with him as he worked.

Your back was against the wall, sipping a cup of instant coffee you had made. Simon was silent as he worked on barricading the door to the stairwell. You both agreed that it was best if it was still accessible just in case something happened, but you didn’t want any unnecessary visitors making their way into the safe little haven you’ve both made for yourselves.

“We should think about looting the empty apartments,” you said suddenly, trying to keep your eyes off of his bulging biceps as he yanked on a strap that was attached to the doorknob to keep the door from being opened. 

“That’s a good idea,” he grunted, stepping back to admire his handiwork when he finally finished testing its durability, “Let’s do it.”

He offered his hand and you smiled, taking it and letting him pull you to your feet. You brushed off imaginary dust in an effort to hide how flustered just holding his hand for that brief second made you. 

You started at the other end of the hallway from your shared apartment. Simon displayed a disturbing aptitude for opening up very locked doors. You chose not to comment on it, instead silently being thankful that he was able to do it at all. 

“How about we make a loot pile in the hallway so we can bring it all inside when we’re ready?” you suggest.

“Alright,” he responds, eyes scanning over the cabinets in the kitchen, “Food is our main priority but it wouldn’t hurt to have some medical supplies.”

You agreed and started helping him pick things out, filling your arms full of canned goods and pill bottles which you then deposited in the hallway by your apartment. 

The two of you made it through a handful of apartments, securing a nice resource pile for the two of you. You were feeling good, hopeful, as you stared at your future right there in the silent hallway.

It wasn’t until you opened one in particular— it belonged to a shy, college kid, you remember— that it seems everything changes for you. He couldn’t have been but 18, away from home for the first time and living in his first apartment on his own. 

Simon is busy looting the kitchen, you can hear him placing cans on the counter, consolidating whatever it is he chooses to bring with him. You check the bedroom, looking through the drawers and pocketing a bottle of aspirin and nausea medication before you move to the bathroom. 

The second you push open the door, you’re met with the force of another person shoving into you. You cry out as you hit the ground, the person falling on top of you. You panic and scramble out from under them, their coughing and wheezing forcing you to look at them. 

It’s the kid who lives there. He’s deathly pale, dark circles under his eyes which are bloodshot. His lips are crusty and dry, seemingly struggling with finding something to say.

“Pl-” he starts to whisper before you see movement in the corner of your eye.

“Simon, wait!” you cry when you see the knife.

But it’s too late, the hunting knife you had held with your own two hands more times than you could count, is embedded in the kids skull, spraying blood all over you. All you can do is make a pathetic squeak, fear and panic rendering you unable to say anything as you watch his now lifeless body flop onto the ground beside you, his still warm blood soaking into your clothes as it runs out of the gaping hole in his head.

“The fuck were you thinkin’?!” Simon suddenly shouts, storming over to you and yanking you to your feet roughly.

You stumble up, bumping into him as you stare at the dead body on the floor, “He..He was alive…I…”

“He was sick!” Simon snarls, roughly wrapping his hand around your throat, forcing you to look at him. There was a fire in his eyes that you hadn’t seen before, making you cower, “You’re lucky he didn’t bite you! Fuckin’ hell, are you stupid?!”

“H-He was talking, he was just sick, Simon!” you argued, tears filling  your eyes as you stared up at him, “W-We could have given him medicine, could have–”

“He was a dead man walking,” he shouts, the volume making you flinch, “He was going to turn. Are you a fuckin’ idiot? Thinkin’ we could save him?”

The tears you were holding fell down your cheeks at his cruel words and you glared up at him, “I-I’m not stupid, I just…h-he talked to me!”

“It doesn’t matter,” Simon’s eyes narrow, “He was a threat. A liability. Don’t fuckin’ worry about him, worry about yourself.”

He releases you with a rough shove, taking out some of his anger on you. He continues to glare at you for a long minute before turning his back on you and stalking out of the room, muttering about how stupid it was that you could have killed yourself over some random kid. 

Your eyes fall on said kid, no more blood coming from the wound, simply coagulating on the floor around him, “Y-You’re a monster.”

The words come out of your mouth before you can stop them, quiet and shaky. But Simon hears them clear, freezing on the other side of the doorway, in the hall. 

“I’m a monster..?” he asks, voice suddenly eerily calm. He turns around, his large body taking up an obscene amount of the doorway. You can tell he’s intentionally trying to intimidate you, a punishment that makes your cheeks heat up in anger, “I’ve been breakin’ my back to keep your stupid ass alive and I’m a monster? Because I put down some fucker that was gonna turn rabid in a day?” he glares at you, squinting through the mask and drawing his dark eyebrows together, “You think it’s easy for me? I’m doin’ everything I can to keep you safe!” he shouts so loud that your ears ring and you flinch from the sound alone, “But if you can’t appreciate that then maybe you should be on your fuckin’ own and see how long it takes before you’re ripped apart by those feral bastards!”

He storms off at that, loudly slamming the front door, indicating his final exit from the apartment. You hastily wipe the tears from your cheeks only for more to replace them and you sniffle, casting a sorrowful glance at the dead kid before creeping out of the apartment yourself.

Simon is nowhere in the hall but the supplies you both gathered are still there. 

You carefully open the door to Simon’s apartment and peek inside, finding it completely silent and still. You’re not sure where he went but you decide to busy yourself with loading all your looted items into the kitchen and sorting them all for when he returns.

You’re not sure how long you take to finish but Simon still isn’t back and you become worried.

He had said you should be on your own but surely he didn’t actually just leave the building, did he?

You wander over to his supplies and find a handful of his weapons gone. Your heart shoots into your throat and more tears prick at your eyes before you’re dashing out of the apartment once again.

The door to the stairwell is no longer held shut, indicating that Simon had, in fact, gone that way. You curse yourself. If you had checked sooner then he would have at least been somewhere close but if he really left, he would be long out of the building by now. 

You creep towards the door and slowly push it open. You hadn’t even left the floor since before this whole thing started. It was eerily quiet, but if you listened close you could hear some muffled shuffling from somewhere. 

You crept out, quickly realizing how dark it was. You pulled out your keychain which held a tiny flashlight that you used to navigate when it was dark in the apartment. 

You crept down the stairs, holding your breath with every step until you finally reached the floor below you. You can hear muffled sounds from beyond the door and slowly push it open, flashing the light down the hallway. 

It's too small and weak to penetrate the stifling darkness. The power was not on on this floor for some reason and that immediately set you on edge. You could still hear some shuffling and strange, raspy noises from within the darkness. 

“Simon..?” you call into the impenetrable, oppressive darkness. The noises stop for a moment and you swallow around the nervous lump in your throat, “Simon?” you call again, louder.

The noises return, shuffling, heavy footsteps advance on you. You strain your eyes to see past the weak illumination that your flashlight provides. You’re breathing heavily, you realize, anxiety making your lungs feel constricted as the footsteps get closer and closer.

All of the sudden, a disgusting, rotted face appears in your sights, arms outstretched towards you. You scream out in unbridled terror as it grabs you, its bony, sickening fingers latching onto your shoulders. You attempt to push it away and run but you trip over your own two feet in your panic. Your flashlight flies out of sight, its dim illumination casting down the hallway, leaving you to push at the undead corpse as it collapses on top of you. Its weight is more than you thought it would be, leaving your arms trembling as you struggle to keep it from falling on top of you. It fights your resistance and chomps its disgusting teeth at your face, attempting to get a bite out of your flesh. 

It reeks, you realize, like the smell of a dead animal you pass by on the street. It makes your stomach turn and you fear you’re going to throw up from the smell alone. The rotting skin of its chest slips and pulls away from the bone and muscle and you gag, tears coming to your eyes as you realize the very real and terrifying danger you’re in.

You have no way to get out of this. 

As you look down the hall, where the light barely pierced the inky depths, you can see more figures emerging from further down the hall, shuffling and rasping in interest at your fight with the one on top of you.

Tears fall down your temples and a sob bursts from your chest as you slowly come to terms that this is how you’re going to die. You can’t hold the sheer weight of the undead above you for much longer.

“S-Simon…” you call out, weak and strained. You know even if he’s nearby he won’t hear you. You have to try harder, get your voice out, shout for him. You swallow around your tears and panic, taking a full breath before shouting, “Simon! Please! Simon, help me!”

You don’t even register the door opening behind you. But you do notice when the weight of the corpse is gone, a knife stabbing into its skull before a large hand grabs you by the back of the shirt and drags you back into the stairwell. The undead follow after you, slamming themselves against the door as soon as it slams closed. 

You’re trembling and unable to blink or breathe as the shock of what just happened washes over you. 

“What the fuck were you thinking?!” Simon all but screams, grabbing you by the front of your shirt, dragging you onto unsteady feet that can’t hold you up before slamming you against the wall. You can still hear those zombies slamming against the door. Your ears are ringing and you barely register Simon shouting at you. 

He shakes you and it finally draws your attention to him. His eyes are wide, irises darting back and forth over your face. He doesn’t look nearly as angry as you would expect. Instead he looks…concerned. Scared.

“Simon…” you whisper, the tears not stopping as they fall down your cheeks. He’s the only thing holding you up right now, hands balled in the material of your shirt, keeping you pinned to the wall, “I-I was…I was looking for you…”

He’s panting, shoulders rising and falling as he struggles to compose himself, “Lookin’ for me?”

“Y-You said you were leaving and I…” you whimper, “I-I didn’t want you to go so…I went to find you…I didn’t think that…”

You see his jaw tense through his mask before he slowly lets go of your shirt. Your knees tremble under your own weight and your hands find purchase against his chest.

“Fuckin’ hell…” he mutters, stepping away from you with a heavy sigh, “Just don’t…do that again, got it?”

You nod your head, sniffling as you feel your tears slowly come to a stop, “Th-Thank you, Simon…for saving me…”

“Yeah,” he grunts, turning his back to you, storming back up the stairs to your floor. 

You unsteadily follow behind him, still a shaky and anxious mess. When you get into the apartment, Simon is in the kitchen, barely sparing you a glance.

“Go take a shower,” he orders you.

You linger in the doorway for a moment, hoping that he’ll look at you even for a second. But he doesn’t and you hang your head, skulking off to take your shower with a heavy heart. 

The night rolls around and Simon hasn’t said a word, putting you more on edge with each passing minute. He sits, manspreading on the couch with a glass of Kentucky bourbon in a glass, sipping on it and watching some old movie that he put on play. Usually, he asks you if you’d like to watch with him, but this time he didn’t and that just makes your heart ache even more. 

“Simon…” you venture to ask, casting a glance at him. His hard gaze doesn’t move from the TV, “I-I want to apologize–”

“For what?” he asks, the first words he’s spoken to you in hours. They’re cold and make you wince.

“F-For what I said…” you mutter, tucking your legs underneath you as you turn to look at him, “I…I was mean. I know you’re doing all you can for me and it wasn’t fair of me to get angry at you…I was just…startled, I guess.”

“You were naive,” he snaps, finally looking at you with a harsh glare, “You had no fuckin’ idea what those monsters were and you almost got yourself killed because of it.”

“Y-You’re right…” you whisper, feeling the tears pricking your eyes for the millionth time that day, “I’m sorry, Simon.”

He doesn’t respond, simply throwing back his glass of bourbon, downing it all before he stands up, “Sleep on the couch.”

The last thing you hear from him is his bedroom door slamming shut. You lay down that night, quietly crying into the pillow until you finally fell back asleep.

“Wake up!” a barking voice is what draws you out of your slumber. 

Still shaken up from yesterday’s previous events, you sit straight up, wild, fearful eyes looking around before your gaze falls upon Simon. He stands in front of the couch, dressed in full tactical gear. Even his balaclava is different, with a hard plate in the shape of a skull covering the front. He looks intimidating.

“Wh-What’re you doing?” you ask, turning yourself so your feet are on the floor. 

“We’re trainin’, get up,” he commands and you have no choice but to follow.

You find yourself following him out of the apartment and into the dimly lit hallway. It’s eerily quiet as always and you feel more intimidated than ever standing before him in nothing but some flimsy pajamas while he wears full gear. Even his gaze is different through that skull mask, hard and cold, looking down at you like you’re insignificant. 

It’s so different from before. He was so kind and patient with you before and you can tell that now he’s going to really train you. 

“What’re we doing today..?” you timidly ask, wringing your hands in front of yourself.

“Escaping,” he responds.

“Escaping?” you parrot back dumbly. 

His glare narrows down at you, “You’re going to try to get away from me and make it towards that exit.”

He points to the other end of the hallway, to the stairwell. You glance up at him, where he stands between you and your exit. 

“Okay…” you lick your lips nervously, “Do you want me to just run past you?”

“For now,” he drawls. He sounds almost bored, hands wrapped around the straps of his tactical vest.

You take a deep breath and attempt to bolt past him but his reflexes are frighteningly fast. His arm shoots out before you even realize it, catching you around your middle and halting you immediately. 

The air is punched out of your lungs from the force of his arms and you stumble back with a groan. 

“You’re goin’ to have to do better than that,” he says, looking down his nose at you like you had offended him with your poor attempt. 

You brace yourself again and attempt to run past him. This time, you attempt to fake him out and run in the other direction but it ends the same with his arm grappling around your middle and you still not any closer to the exit.

“Again!” he barks and you can’t help but wonder if this was how he was when he was training recruits in the military. 

You try again and again to run past him, duck under his arm, avoid his reach – everything to no avail. After several attempts, you’re left panting and frustrated. Simon is still as cool as a cucumber, staring at you in pure boredom as he awaits your next move. 

You run again, making rough contact with his arm once again. But this time you start fighting against his hold. You push with all your might, shoving at his arm and his side in an attempt to slip past him. 

“There you go,” he says, though it sounds more condescending than proud, “Fight me.”

You slam your fist down over his arm, successfully knocking it out of the way and giving you a chance to bolt past him. You have a clear view of the stairwell door and you can almost taste the success. 

But you’re stopped suddenly when a rough hand grabs the back of your shirt. You cry out in shock when he yanks you back towards him, carelessly tossing you to the floor. You hit the rough carpet harshly, the coarse material skinning your hands and knees and you cry out at the pain.

“Simon!” you chastise him, glaring up at him when he comes to stand in front of you, “That fucking hurt!”

“Oh, it hurt?” he sneers, squatting beside you, behemoth form still dwarfing your own as he gets down on your level, “It’s not supposed to feel good. This is training. You’re supposed to try and survive, not whine and cry because you fell on the floor.”

You sit on your burning knees and glare at him. He glares back at you, neither of you backing down. 

“Get up,” he commands, standing up, “Go again.”

By the time he allowed the training to be called off, your body was sore and bruised from the amount of times you’d been thrown to the floor. Your knees burn and ache from where the skin had been rubbed off and you fight back tears as you watch the dried blood crust on your skin. 

Simon is no more rough for wear than he was before – all your hitting, kicking, pushing, and biting hadn’t deterred him in the slightest. He wasn’t even winded. 

Worse more, you hadn’t made it anywhere near the door. 

You weren’t sure how Simon felt about it. If he was mad or disappointed, he didn’t say. As soon as you got into the apartment, he went about making dinner after ordering you to wash up. 

When you got out of the shower, he tossed a first aid kit to you and silently sat down in the kitchen to eat. 

Usually, you would sit with him but you found yourself deciding to eat on the couch by yourself. A sense of loneliness settled upon you that you hadn’t felt since before you had moved into this apartment with him and you find yourself hiding your tears in your food. 

Once again, you’re sleeping on the couch. You wouldn’t have minded it if it didn’t feel so much like a punishment. You felt like a dog banished to sleep in the dog house and you can’t help but curl in on yourself at the cold, empty feeling that it causes. 

The next morning follows much the same with Simon startling you awake with a barked order. Your body aches and your wounds sting with every movement you make as you drag yourself behind him to the hallway.

“Do we have to do this again today, Simon?” you ask hopelessly, “I’m really tired…”

“Do you think those undead freaks are going to care if you’re tired?” he snaps at you, arms crossed, making him appear even bigger than he already was, “You’re goin’ to learn how to escape from holds.”

“Simon…” you start to complain but a sharp look from him has the words dying on your tongue and you hand your head in defeat. 

He’s no more gentle than he was yesterday with you, rough grips and manhandling you around to fit his needs. He barks in your ear, ordering what you need to do and when to break various holds that he has on your body. 

He feels so much stronger and more powerful than those zombies had. At least they were mindless and slow. Simon was fast and smart. 

“Put your hand under mine to break the hold!” he shouts, clearly frustrated the more you fuck up breaking his holds. 

“Not like that! Are you daft?” he grits through clenched teeth, “You’re goin’ to fuckin wind up dead if you keep this up!”

You feel your heart rate speed up and you find yourself almost panicking under his completely oppressive energy. His shouting only sets you more on edge and the tears begin to prick at your eyes once again. 

“None of those fuckin’ tears,” he snarls, tightening his hold on you when you squirm and attempt to rid his body weight off of yours, “Do what I told you! You can break the hold if you just fuckin’ focus!”

“Simon, I-I don’t want to do this anymore!” you cry, the tears tumbling down your cheeks as you cry out the words. Your cheeks feel hot and you can barely catch your breath as you weakly punch at his chest.

“There’s no tappin’ out,” he snaps, tightening his grip on you even more. Your body aches where he holds and you know you’re going to be feeling those bruises for days to come. 

“Simon!” you practically screech, freeing one hand and harshly slamming your fist down over the hard faceplate. 

It seems to startle him enough into loosening his hold and you manage to kick back away from him in your panic, foot hitting him square in the chest in an effort to propel yourself away – putting as much distance as fast as you can between the two of you.

“Simon…” you whimper, voice wobbling, “I am not one of your soldiers. You need to stop trying to train me like I am!”

You watch him adjust his jaw through his mask before he pops his neck. He doesn’t say anything, just stares at you and every hair on your body stands up in pure fear. 

He’s on top of you before you even have the chance to say another word. You cry out when the force of his body forces you back and your head cracks harshly against the floor. Your vision blacks out from the force and you groan in pain but he doesn’t stop, a rough forearm pinning against your throat, cutting off your air.

“That was good,” he says, voice cold and devoid of any emotion, “You managed to escape, now do it again!”

Your hands push weakly against him, but you’re worn out and your head is starting to hurt like hell. You open your mouth to say something but his hold on your throat ceases any words from escaping. 

You reach up to his face and his cold gaze narrows at you, “You already tried that. It won’t work again.”

But instead of hitting him, your fingers wrap around the face plate and you attempt to push it off – hoping that it’ll obscure his vision enough but he shakes you off with ease. 

He catches your gaze and what he sees gives him pause. Wide, teary eyes, red rimmed and filled to the brim with fear. Tears wet your cheeks and he finally notices the way your entire body is tense and trembling beneath him. 

“P-Please,” you finally find your voice when his weight eases a bit off of your throat, “I-I don’t want to do this anymore, Simon, please.”

That has his own eyes widening and you take his slackened hold as an opportunity to run away. He watches you scramble up from your spot on the floor and stumble back to the apartment, disappearing within with a slam that makes him flinch. He looks down at his own hands and finds that he can’t conjure up any thoughts that aren’t about you.

You hear him enter the apartment, his heavy footfalls pacing around the living room. You’re hiding in the bathroom, leaning against the door with your knees against your chest to muffle your cries. 

He enters the bedroom and pauses, no doubt looking for you before he approaches the bathroom and you feel a brief ping of fear that he’s going to open the door but instead he softly knocks. 

“Will you come out so we can talk?” he asks, voice holding none of the cold, harshness that it had for the last few days. 

“G-Go away, Simon,” you sniffle.

You can hear him sigh before he follows your request and steps away from the door. You can hear him linger in the bedroom for several more minutes, kicking his boots off before he’s quietly closing the bedroom door and leaving. 

The silence and loneliness sinks in once more and you find yourself sobbing into your knees all over again. Your head kills and you feel almost nauseous through your cries from the headache but you can’t stop yourself. 

You have no idea how long you cry for but before you know it, the bedroom door opens once again and you can hear the floorboards creak under his weight as he approaches the bathroom door once again.

“I made something for you to eat,” he says through the door, “Figured you might be hungry.” At the idea of food, your stomach growls, “It’ll be waiting for you at the table when you want it.”

You listen to him walk away and you know this is his way of luring you out of the bathroom. Part of you desperately wants to spite him for being so mean to you and refuse his food but the growling in your stomach is too much to bear and you can’t help but clamber to your feet and quietly pull the door open. 

When you reach the living room, Simon is facing the TV, giving no indication that he realizes you’ve come out of your hiding place. You sneak into the kitchen to see a bowl of soup sitting nicely at an empty spot. You take a seat and quickly devour the entire bowl, barely taking a break to breathe before it’s completely empty. 

You place it in the sink and carefully sneak back out of the kitchen, intending to slide right past him but in your haste you fail to notice that he’s no longer sitting on the couch. Instead, you come face to face with him sitting at the foot of his bed, clearly waiting for you. 

You freeze when you see him and all too soon that headache comes racing back to the forefront of your mind. 

Simon’s no longer wearing the skull plate and instead wears his usual black balaclava with the skull print on it. He wears a t-shirt and sweatpants, obviously having let himself get comfortable while you hid in the bathroom earlier. 

He looks up at you the second you step into the room and the two of you halt in a stalemate, simply staring at one another while you wait for the other to make the first move. 

You’re the first to break eye contact when a heavy throb goes through your head, making you close your eyes and bring your hand to your head until it passes. You hear the bed creak when Simon stands up before his hands are cupping your cheeks.

“You hit your head, didn’t you?” he asks, soft and gentle. 

You can’t stop yourself from glaring and snapping, “No thanks to you.”

His gaze softens as his hand finds its way to the back of your head, ever so softly prodding at the sizable bump that’s there, “I’m sorry, love.”

“If you’re sorry then why did you do it?” you find those damned tears returning all over again as you continue to glare up at him, “I told you I didn’t like it and I wanted to stop.”

“I know…” he whispers, hands once again cupping your cheeks, thumbing your tears away.

“What was your problem, Simon?” you tearfully ask, sniffling pathetically, “You hurt me. You were scary – scarier than those stupid zombies downstairs. Why did you do that?”

“I got…I was…” he struggled to find the right words before he stepped away from you with a troubled expression, “I was angry— scared. I just—I don’t know.”

“You were scared?” you scoff, “I’m the one who got attacked.”

“You think that wasn’t scary for me?” he asks in disbelief, “You almost got eaten alive on my watch.”

“You sure have a funny way of showing it,” you sniffle, angrily storming over to the bed, letting yourself flop down on the comfortable mattress for the first time in days.

“I know,” he whispers, “Just let me explain, okay?”

You lay there silently, listening to his weight shift where he stands. You take notice of how his scent lingers much more on the blankets now that he’s slept on it. It smells good, you note, musky and delicate. He doesn’t wear anything that smells particularly overpowering. 

“I’m sorry,” he says again, “Ever since this shit happened, I’ve been driving myself crazy. I lost contact with my team, my friends. I’m not able to get anymore information on what's goin’ on outside. I’m worried about you, I’m trying my hardest to make sure you can go out there and survive on your own if you need to. I feel like I’m going crazy and I’m scared because I’ve never felt this out of control before.”

You sit up and turn to face him, “How long have you been feeling like this, Simon..?”

“A while,” he mutters, turning his back on you when your gaze starts to feel like too much, “And then you called me a monster and I just…” he trails off, seemingly unsure of how to explain his feelings properly.

“I’m sorry for that, Simon,” you mutter sincerely, reaching out to grab his arm, urging him to turn around, “I never should have said that. And I didn’t mean it, really.”

“Well, you were right, weren’t you?” he scoffs, “I am a monster. Fuck, look at what I did to you – how I treated you. I was punishing you and I never should have.”

“We both made mistakes,” you compromise with a wobbly smile, “We’re dealing with a lot, right? The fucking world is ending and we’ve been trapped in this godforsaken building for who knows how long. It’ll get easier.”

He stares at you for a long moment, lashes fluttering as his gaze softens. You can’t find it in yourself to break eye contact. After a long moment, he seems to decide on something before reaching up and yanking the mask covering his face off. 

You feel your breath halt in your chest as your eyes widen, taking in every inch of his newly revealed face. His soft, brown eyes are a juxtaposition to the rest of his ruggedly handsome face. You stand up, never letting your eyes stray from him, a feeling of pure awe coming over you.

“You’re so handsome, Si,” you whisper, reaching forward to brush your fingers over a scar that cuts through his eyebrow to his eyelid, “It’s nice to finally see you.”

“I wanted you to see the real me,” he whispers, “Not the asshole soldier I was.”

“I’m glad you’ve trusted me with this,” you let your fingers wander along his skin, feeling the stubble on his jaw that he hadn’t yet shaved. 

“I need to tell you,” he sounds breathy, reaching up and catching your hand in his, pressing your palm flat against his cheek, “I was so scared when I heard you callin’ for me. I thought I was goin’ to be too late and I’d watch you die. I was terrified that I would lose you.”

“Simon…” you whisper in awe, watching how his soft, brown eyes display every tumultuous emotion that he experiences, “I’m sorry. I won’t do anything to worry you again.”

“I want you by my side for as long as you’re able,” he whispers, throat moving as he swallows.

“I won’t go anywhere,” you agree, stepping closer to him, “I promise.”

He leans in at the same time as you, meeting you for a sweet, tender kiss. It lasts only a second before you’re both pulling back to look in each other's eyes. Then, you’re both surging forward for a hungry, heated kiss. 

His hands grip your waist, squeezing there as he deepens the kiss. You whimper under his touch, standing on your tip-toes to match the intensity of his kiss. 

He moves you backwards, your knees hitting the edge of the bed, causing you to topple down. Simon follows, catching himself on his hands on either side of your head. He only breaks the kiss for a moment to move you further up the bed, easily manhandling you so your head is in the pillows before he’s kissing you all over again.

His hands are rough as they travel over your body, slipping your shirt up just enough to let him touch your bare sides. You quickly realize you’re still wearing your sleep clothes and that you don’t have a bra on. 

Clearly, Simon was aware because his hand quickly cups your bare breast with a rough, callused hand. His thumb finds your nipple, flicking over the bud as you whine into his mouth. 

He pulls back suddenly, cheeks flushed before he’s fumbling with the hem of your shirt.

“Arms up, sweetheart,” he coos, sickly sweet. 

You follow his orders and eagerly lift your arms up for him to tug the fabric of your shirt over your head. Once your breasts are bared to him, he’s leaning down to wrap his lips around one perked nipple while his fingers busy themselves with the other.

You cry out at the feeling of his teeth nipping at the sensitive bud, hands tangling in his soft, curly hair. He groans against your breast at the feeling of your pulling at his hair before he pulls back just a bit, breathlessly whispering, “Such perfect tits.”

“Simon…” you whimper, letting yourself relax into the bed as he switches to mouth at your other nipple, leaving the other to harden in the cool air before his hand travels down your stomach to your shorts, easily slipping underneath the fabric.

“Simon!” you call out again when you feel the heat of his hand cup your folds through your panties. 

“Shh, just let me do the work, love,” he mumbled, muffled by the fact he refuses to part from suckling on your nipple. 

His tongue drags over your breast, nipping and sucking marks into your skin. As he works the muscle, his hand in your panties remains stationary, just letting you feel the heat of it against your core. The teasing presence only makes you pulse and drool into your panties. You’re positive the fabric must be sticking to you by now from how wet you’ve become from playing with your breasts. 

“Your tits are so sensitive,” he mumbles, almost to himself, “Does it feel good, darlin’?”

“Yeah,” you breathe, arching your back to offer up your chest to him all over again.

He grins, a crooked little smile that makes your heart flutter. It was so nice to finally see him smile. 

But instead of mouthing at your breasts again, he leans back on his heels and pulls his hand from your panties. You whine at the loss but it’s cut short when he hooks his fingers into them and tugs them down your legs. You lift your hips to assist him but find yourself wincing when an ache goes through your body.

He notices and gently runs the palm of his hands up your thighs, urging you to relax.

“You sore, love?” he asks, voice filled with what you can only call guilt.

“A little…” you admit, biting your lip, “My thighs are killing me, actually.”

He shakes his head at himself and leans down, pressing a kiss next to the scrape on one of your knees as his hands slowly begin to knead the sore muscles in your thighs. You sigh and let your eyes flutter at the feeling. 

With your eyes closed, you don’t realize he leans down until you feel a hot, wet tongue slide from your pubic bone to your sternum. Your cunt clenches pathetically at the feeling. When you open your eyes, Simon’s pretty, brown eyes are half-lidded and his tongue hangs out of his mouth. You can’t resist cupping the back of his head and pulling him for a kiss, whimpering and moaning against his mouth.

“Fingers or tongue?” he asks, muffled and messy against your lips. 

“What?” your hazy mind can’t quite comprehend what he’s asking of you.

“Do you want my fingers or my tongue?” he reiterates, “I want to make you cum.”

You whimper at that, “B-Both!”

He scoffs, full brows furrowing, “Greedy.”

You find yourself blushing at that but he doesn’t deny your request. He sinks down your body, peppering kisses down your body on the way until he kneels on the floor at the foot of the bed. 

He grabs your hips and effortlessly yanks you down so your legs hang off the edge of the bed. 

He spreads your thighs apart and you find yourself holding your breath, watching through your lashes as he trails kisses up your thigh, getting closer to where you want him the most. You’re trembling under his attention and it makes you clench pathetically around absolutely nothing. You’re sure he can see the way your cunt drools and leaks with every small kiss he peppers against your skin. 

Just when he gets close, he pulls back and kisses back down towards your knee. The teasing has you wound taut, feeling as if you’re almost on the edge without him ever properly touching you.

It feels like hours that he does it, kissing up and down your thighs. Occasionally, he nips at the skin there, swirling his tongue over the burning marks he leaves behind to soothe the sting. Finally, he moves his hand and you think he’s going to finally give you something but all he does is spread your folds apart with two fingers, exposing your hole and clit to the cool bedroom air. The action makes you whine but he pays you no mind. 

He carries on kissing your thighs and nipping at your skin. No matter how much you rut your hips, hoping to entice him into touching you and giving you what you really need, he ignores it. He ignores your whines and the cries of his name, ignores the way your cunt clenches and drools around nothing, clit twitching from how much teasing you’re enduring. 

The little bud aches, throbbing as it begs for anything – any little touch that he has to offer. He could blow air upon the nub right now and you’re sure you would explode in pure pleasure. 

When you sob his name, broken and needier than you’ve ever heard yourself, he finally looks up. His eyelids are heavy, concealing half of his iris and it makes him look positively fucked out. 

“Look at me,” he commands, licking his lips slowly, “Right in the eyes, let me see you properly.”

You force yourself to meet his penetrating gaze, almost struggling to compose yourself. You find yourself trapped in the eye contact, almost paralyzed under his intoxicating gaze. He holds you there for what feels like minutes but in reality is probably just a few seconds. 

His fingers finally hone in on your clit, pressing against the twitching, hardened bud. You cum immediately, still locked in that intoxicating eye contact. You cry out, hands slapping against the bed as he draws the orgasm out of you with slow circles on the little bud, sticky clicking sounds filling the room and mixing with your wild cries of pleasure. It seems like the high never stops, more and more cum gushing from your cunt and dripping down to stain the comforter beneath you. 

Simon watches you with keen attention, taking in every expression you make as he makes you cum against his fingers, the bud throbbing wildly until the orgasm finally dissipates. 

When you finally sag against the bed, your thighs fall completely open as the post-orgasm exhaustion quickly hits. You’re left trembling and twitching through the aftershocks, pretty pussy still drooling with every clench of your walls.

Simon takes the opportunity of you coming down to strip himself. He tugs his shirt off over his head and lets his sweatpants drop the floor, carelessly kicking them away. His gaze never leaves you, never leaves that twitching little cunt between your legs.

There’s a slick film of your cum coating your folds and his mouth fucking waters. 

Your eyes fly open, not even realizing that you had closed them, when he suddenly cups the back of your thighs and pins you wide open for him.

“Simon…” you pathetically coo, reaching down to tangle your fingers in his hair when he comes within reach.

“So sweet for me,” he coos, kissing your thigh once again and you’re scared that he’s going to tease you all over again, “A good orgasm got you nice and sweet, huh?”

“Mhm,” you mutter, dazedly looking at him as you feel his breath on your sensitive cunt. 

That alone makes you clench around nothing. You nearly whimper out loud when you see his tongue fall from his mouth, glistening with spit before he licks a slow, wide stripe between your folds. 

When he comes back up, he holds his tongue out and lets you see the creamy mess of your cum left behind. He makes a show of swallowing every drop in his mouth, making your cheeks flush in pure embarrassment at such a lewd display. 

You had no idea Simon would be so fucking filthy in bed but the way his eyes roll back at your taste tells you all that you need to know. 

He loudly slurps your clit between his lips, swirling his tongue around the sloppy bud as he whines and groans into your cunt. You tug harshly at his hair at the overwhelming feeling of having your clit doted on so expertly. 

His hands keep you pinned open, allowing him to slip his tongue inside you, occasionally taking a moment to visibly swallow every drop of your slick so you can see the way he absolutely savors your taste.

He swirls that offending tongue around your clit again, slurping it back into his mouth before two fingers are prodding at your entrance. You clench against him, the excitement of finally being filled with something making you whimper. Just the sound of you so eager makes him almost want to cum completely untouched. 

Your cum generously coats his face and he absolutely loves it. He pulls away suddenly, dark eyes locking onto your face as he pants from how lost he was in eating you out. He slowly presses two fingers inside you, letting them slide in, hugged by the plushness of your walls.

“You’re so fuckin’ wet, love,” he coos, moaning sympathetically when you cry out from the feeling of being stretched on his fingers, “And so warm too, fuck.”

He decides, in that moment, that he doesn’t care if the world is ending outside, he feels nothing but bliss with you. He never wants this to end, he wants to get completely lost in the pure intoxication of you. 

He leans down, flattening his tongue against your clit once again. The feeling is heightened now that he’s got his thick fingers stuffed inside you. You clench around him at the feeling of his tongue on the sensitive bud once more. 

He suddenly crooks his fingers and your legs helplessly kick in the air at the overwhelming feeling of him pressing and prodding against that gooey little spot inside you. Your hips rabbit up and you practically wail at the overwhelming sensations he’s attacking you with. You squeal his name so sweetly before he finally backs off a bit, letting you sink back into the soft cushions of the bed.

He’s completely drunk off of you, off the creamy cum you gush out for him to lick up, off the lovely sounds you let out from how good he makes you feel. His cock is so painfully hard and he wants so badly to wrap his hand around himself but he knows he’ll blow his load the second he does, so he refrains. 

To distract himself from the ache in his cock, he doubles his focus on you and making you feel good. His fingers crook upwards again, prodding your g-spot again with renewed vigor. You cry out, your eyes rolling to the back of your head when he sucks your clit into his mouth, the suction making your thighs tremble. 

“I-I wanna cum!” you cry out, fingers still tugging harshly at his hair. 

He groans against you but doesn’t dare to part from you, too focused on bringing you to your high to actually goad you into it. His fingers move inside you, fucking you nice and deep, making sure he’s working that sweet little spot inside you as he continues to suck on your clit. 

It doesn’t take long before your entire body stiffens and you toss your head back. The choked out cry is music to his ears and his own eyes roll back when he feels the way your walls tighten around him, soaking his fingers generously. Your clit throbs in his mouth before he releases his suction on it, instead choosing to lick the pulsing little bud with the flat of his tongue to gently ease you through the high. 

You’re pushing his head away long before he’s ready to part but he willingly backs off nonetheless. His chin is wet with your cum, even dripping down his neck and the sight makes you flush. There’s a loud, squishy noise when he slowly pulls his fingers from the hot clutch of your cunt. 

“Scoot back for me, darlin’,” he commands you, slurring a little before he pops his fingers into his mouth, sucking them clean of the mess you left behind. 

You do as he says, shakily pushing yourself back so you can lay your head in the pillows. With Simon standing at the foot of the bed, you finally get the chance to take a look at him. 

He’s obviously incredibly well built, broad and firm in all the right places. Most notably, he has numerous scars, some that looked like bullet wounds and others that were long and thin. 

“Are all those from the military?” you find yourself asking as he carefully crawls onto the bed, jostling you as the mattress moves under his weight.

“Yeah,” he breathes, leaning down to press his lips against yours.

You let him handle your body as he pleases, spreading your legs so he can comfortably situate himself between them. His cock, hard and heavy, rests against your folds and you find your eyes going wide at the sight of it.

“Somethin’ the matter?” he chuckles, like he can hear what you’re thinking. 

“That’s not going to fit,” you breathe, unable to tear your gaze off the twitching, fat length of him.

“‘Course it will, love,” he breathes, pecking your lips again, letting his lips trail down over your jaw, “I worked you open real good, all you gotta do is relax and let me in.”

With a minute adjustment of his hips, the tip prods your entrance. He grips the base of his length, carefully pushing forward, mouth dropping open as he feels your hot, wet walls spread around the head of him.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he grunts, “Jus’ let me do the work.”

Your hands fly down to grip his forearms, nails biting harder into the skin there the deeper he sinks into you. The middle of his cock is the fattest, giving you an almost painful stretch that makes your face pinch up in a way that Simon doesn’t like.

He brings one hand to his mouth, licking his thumb before carefully pressing the digit against that sensitive bud. You whimper at the feeling, cunt clutching tight around him, easing more of his length inside. He circles your clit a few more times, watching your face for any clear signs of discomfort. Before long, his hips meet yours, filling you absolutely full to the brim in a way no one ever had before. 

He plants both hands on either side of your head, abandoning your clit in favor of simply rutting his hips against yours. His large body hovers over you, shielding you from anything outside of him and you find yourself completely lost in everything that is him – how full he makes you feel, how nice he smells, how safe you feel trapped beneath him like you are. 

Your hands wind around his neck, pulling him down so his chest presses against yours. Your breasts squish against his chest and he finds his eyes flickering down just to look at them. The sight makes you smile despite yourself – it’s cute, you think.

Tangling your fingers in his soft curls once again, you bring him down for a kiss. He’s still slowly, carefully rutting his hips against yours, his lower abdomen sliding against your clit as his cock stirs inside you, stretching you and hitting every sweet little spot inside you. 

You whimper into his mouth, gasping at the way he makes you feel so full and good while he barely does anything. Your knees bracket against his ribs, squeezing him so tightly you wonder if it hurts but he just continues to kiss you and circle his hips. 

“Wanna feel you cum around me,” he whispers, barely parting from your lips to request it, “Just like this, cover my cock. Be good for me.”

You knew you wouldn’t be able to disobey even if you wanted to. With the way he stirs you up and drags against every tender spot inside you all while grinding against your clit the way he is, you don’t stand a chance. Your third orgasm creeps up on you and your back arches just as it washes over you.

Simon groans at the feeling of you cumming around him for the first time – the tight, wet clutch of your cunt feeling better than he ever could have dreamed. As he watches you writhe in his bed, moaning and whimpering his name, he’s overcome with a plethora of feelings that just melt his heart. 

He can’t resist pulling you in for another kiss, cupping your jaw as he pulls his hips back until just the head of his cock remains buried in your cunt. You’re still working on coming down from the orgasm he just gave you but he’s greedy – he wants to feel it again. He wants to fuck the orgasm out of you, make you ride it out and gush all over him.

He needs to show you how good he can be for you, hoping that this alone can get across just how much you mean to him. He’s never been the best with words, so he can only hope that this is enough for now.

Your hands press against his chest, aimlessly pushing at him from the overwhelming way he fucks you. You’re so sensitive, pushed into cumming more times than anyone had ever made you before. But he doesn’t show any signs of slowing or stopping. He’s a machine, built for stamina and he’s on a fucking mission now – to make you feel as good as he possibly can. 

You’re attempting to push him away, to give your poor, overstimulated body a chance to come down. But he’s having none of it. 

“Hands off, love,” he commands breathlessly. But you just stare up at him with dazed, teary eyes, panting and sweaty. He clicks his tongue, “You ignorin’ me, sweetheart?”

He grapples your wrists in his one hand, pulling yours away from his chest and pinning them above your head. He uses this new hold as leverage to really fuck you, pulling back and sinking back in as deep as he possibly can. His tip kisses your cervix, making your thighs tense up at the twinge of pain that comes with having him so deep. 

But the pain mixes so addictively with the pleasure that you find yourself getting completely lost in the slow, deep rhythm that he sets. Every time he sinks balls deep, his hips slap against yours and he rubs up deliciously against your clit. The pleasure on your bud doesn’t last long before he’s pulling back again, never allowing you to fully build up to another delicious high. 

Simon is lost in the way you whimper and whine. He can swear that he’s never heard anything as incredible as you being denied the pleasure he had been so generous with so far. He likes the desperate look in your eyes; it makes him feel amazing to know that you need him to make you feel good. He’s in charge of your pleasure in that moment and he finds himself relishing in that feeling of control over you. 

You look so sweet beneath him, pinned and helpless with teary eyes looking up at him. Your pupils are blown wide from the pleasure his cock brings you as he continues to fuck you nice and deep. 

Usually, Simon is a fast and rough kind of guy, but he finds himself thinking that he could definitely get used to a pace like this more often. As long as it’s you that’s underneath him. 

It doesn’t take you very long to break, those pretty tears falling down your cheeks as you breathlessly plead with him, “Please, Simon,” your voice cracks so cutely, “I want more!”

He chuckles under his breath and leans down, pressing a tender kiss against your temple before whispering, “What’s stoppin’ you from takin’ more?”

That seems to set you off. You’re bracing your feet on the bed, rutting your hips, rocking yourself against his cock. A moan rips from his chest at the sight of you using his cock like that. His heavy balls press against you and the feeling makes his cock throb, making him realize how badly he needs to cum. But he doesn’t want to give up this little show you’re putting on for him so soon. 

You’re so, so wet that he can feel how your messy little cunt squishes around him. You shamelessly soak every inch of him the more you work your own pussy on his fat cock. You tug your hands free from his grip and he’s left clenching the pillows in his fist when he watches your fingers descend.

He thinks you’re going to go for your clit, to push yourself over the edge like you so deserved for being so good for him. But instead, you reach for your own tits. The breath punches out of his lungs as the sight of you meanly pinching and tweaking your nipples as you continue to rock yourself against him.

Simon feels his balls tighten at the sight and he almost thinks he’s going to cum but he suddenly pulls his cock out. You wail in complete misery at the loss, tearfully watching him wrap his hand around the base of his cock, pinching off the impending orgasm.

You flop back down onto the bed, sniffling pathetically as you glare at him for ruining the orgasm you were so beautifully working yourself up to. He smiles crookedly at you, cupping the backs of your knees, crudely pinning them to your chest so your pretty, wet cunt is open and vulnerable to the way he suddenly stuffs himself back inside. 

With you completely pinned beneath him in a press, you can’t do anything except cry out and wail in pleasure as he finally fucks you fast and hard. His balls slap lewdly against your ass, your arousal dripping off of them. 

His eyes are locked on the way you’re stretched so wide around the girth of him. You’re creaming around him, a milky ring left in your wake every time he pulls out. He doesn’t give you much chance to breathe or collect yours, simply fucking you with everything he has. It’s loud, wet, and fucking messy. 

“F-Fuck,” he chokes on the word, voice breaking as it comes out. He’s so close that it hurts, “Play with yourself for me, love, rub your clit.”

Your hand flies down to do as you’re told without a second thought. It only takes a few, quick circles around the hard little bud before you’re cumming with a cute little squeal. Your feet kick helplessly in the air, toes curling from how hard you cum around him. 

Simon groans at the sight and feeling of you losing yourself on his cock. You continue to swirl and tap at your clit, forcing yourself to cum harder and harder until you’re squirting around him with a choked off sob of his name. 

Simon’s hips never still or falter, fucking you fast and deep to work you through the orgasm. Your cum splatters across his hips, thighs, and chest. It makes his eyes roll up into his head before he lets his head fall back. His jaw opens and he moans, loud and deep as his own orgasm finally washes over him. 

His pace falters as you lay there twitching and crying, a few trembling thrusts of his hips as his cock spits rope after rope of cum inside you. He cums longer and harder than he has in a very long time. He continues with short, aborted little thrusts on his sensitive cock as he continues to cum.

Even when the orgasm dissipates, he finds himself fucking into the creamy mess drooling out of your twitching cunt. 

“S-Simon-!” you choke out, nails clawing down his shoulders, “S-Sensitive!”

“I know, love,” he pants, almost deliriously, “J-Just one more. G-Gotta fill you up again.”

You can’t do anything but lay back and let him use your cunt as he works to force another orgasm out of his overstimulated cock. He’s gasping and whining as he moves his hips, pulling his cock out only to stuff it back inside. A mixture of your cum and his drips down, soaking his cock, pelvis, and balls. It’s a heady, lewd mess that he can’t bring himself to worry about now but he knows it’ll be a pain to clean up later. 

You’re trembling and twitching with every one of his movements, tears dried and new on your cheeks. He feels a pang of remorse for you, you’re tired and overstimulated but he just needs to wring this one last orgasm out and then he’ll let you rest.

“You can be good for me, huh?” he coos sweetly, “Just be sweet and let me, fuck, use this pretty little cunt, yeah?”

“Y-Yeah,” you whimper, nodding your head as your eyelids flutter in exhaustion.

Simon leans down, pressing his lips against yours. You both get lost in the kiss, with your arms wrapped around his neck. He loves how it feels to have you stuffed on his cock while your pretty, sweet body twitches and trembles beneath him. He knows it probably hurts by now and the fact you’re just laying there and letting him use you like this has him reaching his second high. 

He chokes on a moan, gasping as he cums for the final time. It’s much more lackluster than his first one but he still fills you up just like you both needed. His cock twitches almost painfully inside you as he slowly rocks his hips, wincing at the overstimulation. 

After a few, still moments, he pulls his length free from the soft plushness of your cunt and rolls off of you. You’re both panting, laying on your backs on the bed as you come back to yourselves.

You’re the first one to move, rolling onto your side and wrapping yourself around him. Simon finds himself smiling when he feels the sweet way you snuggle against him, seeking his comfort automatically. 

You start shivering, the mess of cum and sweat on your body causing you to become cold. He urges you to sit up despite your protests. 

“Let’s take a shower and sleep,” he offers sweetly, supporting your shaky body to the bathroom.

He continues to support you and hold you close through the shower. He finds himself grateful that there’s still hot water because you both certainly need it after such a messy tryst in his bed. 

You’re the first to fall asleep, tucked against his chest with your arms wrapped around him like a little koala. His hand strokes up and down your back, just staring into the inky blackness of his bedroom. 

Part of him feels like it’s all a dream, to have someone so sweet tucked against him, offering him comfort and feeling safe as they snooze peacefully. A sense of fierce protectiveness washes over him as he finds himself going through plans in his head – what the future may hold.

He’s torn from his thoughts when you shoot up from your deep sleep with a gasp. Your head wildly turns, looking around the room. His hand finds purchase on your back, making you jump before relaxing immediately in recognition.

“Bad dream?” he asks, tugging you gently to lay you back down against his chest.

“Yeah,” you whisper, “I dreamt that I was trapped with them in that hallway again.”

He hums, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, wrapping his arms tightly around you to make sure you feel secure. You go still for a long time and he thinks you fell asleep again but then you ask him a question that surprises him.

“Who are those people in the photos?” you quietly question, “In your living room.”

He hums, rubbing a rough hand up and down your shoulder and arm, “My teammates. Friends, I guess.”

“You guess?” you chuckle.

“Yeah,” he breathes, “Task Force 141; Captain John Price, and Seargets John ‘Soap’ MacTavish and Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick.”

“Soap is a silly name,” you comment, grinning up at him, resting your chin against his chest, “What about you?”

“Lieutenant Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley,” he responds with ease. 

“Do you know where they are?” you ask.

It’s an innocent question but it sends a pang of hurt to his chest. If he were a weaker, less trained man, he may have felt tears pricking his eyes, “I don’t know,” he pauses for a moment before continuing, “I was in contact with Soap when everything started goin’ to shit. Lost contact with him though. He’s a tough bastard though, I’m sure he’s fine somewhere out there. I don’t know where the other two were or are.”

“If they’re even half as good as you, I’m sure they’re all fine,” you offer optimistically. 

Simon hums again, reaching a hand up to brush a stray flyaway off of your forehead. His big hand cups your cheek, stroking his thumb over your lips which you offer a gentle kiss against. 

“All I’m worried about now is you,” he confesses softly, “As long as you’re safe, I’ll be happy. I’ll do anything to make sure you’re okay.”

“I am,” you smile, laying back down to nuzzle against his chest, “I’m okay as long as you’re here.”

He wraps his arms around you again and closes his eyes, letting himself sleep peacefully with you held safe against him.

It’s not even a week later that you’re sitting on the couch with him, peacefully watching a movie with a full belly after cooking a quick dinner with him, that you hear a loud, mechanical thump and you’re plunged into complete silence and darkness. Your heart jumps and races in your chest, mindlessly grappling onto Simon’s arm as he sits still beside you.

“What happened?” you ask, whispering as if you’re scared to speak any louder.

“Power went out,” he responds, not sounding the least bit perturbed, “Knew it was comin’. Water’s probably out now too.”

“What do we do?” you ask, the tremor of fear in your voice practically breaking his heart. 

He stands up and you whimper in fear when he’s out of your reach. You can hear him moving around in the dark before a bright, blinding light lands on you. 

“We can’t stay here for much longer,” he responds, “We’ll have to move out and find somewhere with more resources.”

“How long have you been planning this?” you ask, getting to your feet to follow him down the hall to the bedroom.

“Ever since the news stopped reportin’,” he responds, grabbing a large backpack from the closet, “Let’s pack up.”

You linger beside him and he looks at you with a raised brow, “I’m scared, Simon.”

His gaze softens and he walks up to you, cupping your cheeks tenderly, “I won’t let anything happen to you,” he promises, “We’re goin’ to go out, find a small place to hunker down. We’ll look for a generator or a vehicle and get somewhere safe. You trust me, don’t you?”

You nod your head, “Of course I do.”

“Good,” he smiles, kissing your forehead, “Now take this backpack and fill it with what’s left of our canned food, alright? I’m goin’ to pack everything else we need, don’t worry about a thing.”

He offers you a flashlight, which you gratefully take and click on. You’re glad that he gives you an easy task to focus on. You take the smaller backpack he offers you and make your way to the kitchen. You only have about 5 cans of food left and you carefully place them inside the bag before opening the refrigerator to pack a few full bottles of water that you have stored in there. You make sure to toss in a can opener just in case before you place the backpack on the couch. 

Simon emerges from the room with the large, military backpack slung over his shoulder. 

“You get it all?” he asks, taking a seat to shove his boots onto his feet.

“Yeah and a couple water bottles,” you respond, approaching him slowly.

“That’s perfect,” he praises, looking over at you, “You should go get dressed. Jeans and a hoodie. Put your sneakers on and make sure they’re tight, got it?”

You nervously do as you’re told, disappearing into the bedroom to quickly dress yourself under the flashlight. You can hear Simon moving around in the living room, heavy boots thumping against the floor with every step he takes. 

You toss the hoodie over your head and make your way back to Simon, who stands in the living room, looking out the window. The sun is just beginning to come up over the horizon, casting a dim amount of sunlight to come through. 

He turns to look at you when he hears you approach. 

“There you go,” he hums, pulling the hoodie up over your head and tightening the strings, “Keep your neck covered. We’ll find you some better clothing somewhere along the way.”

You nod your head and take a glance over his shoulder out the window. You can barely see the ground from your position but you can see people shuffling around on the streets below. A pang of fear goes through you as you realize that they’re most definitely not normal people – the streets are crawling with those undead freaks. 

Simon leads you to the door and unsheaths a weapon for you – a machete he had taught you to wield with relative ease. You grip it in your hands, nervously twirling it around until you find a comfortable position. Simon nods his head and pulls out a combat knife, holding it low at his side before opening the door. 

The descent to the lobby is relatively easy, you walk over the undead that have already been taken care of in the stairwell.

“I took care of these already,” he explains without you even having to ask, helping you jump over a pile of 3 zombies at the foot of the stairs. 

“You got more kills under your belt than me,” you comment, mostly in jest to lighten your mood.

Simon huffs under his breath, slowly pushing open the door to the lobby, “You have no idea.”

You squint and turn off your flashlight when you step into the well lit lobby. The sun is now above the horizon, allowing you to see with ease once again. 

Simon remains in front of you, making your way to the double front doors. You peek around him, heart racing in your chest as your grip on your weapon tightens.

“Are you ready?” he asks, casting a glance over his shoulder.

“No…” you confess, shuffling closer to him.

“Everything will be okay,” he promises firmly and you actually believe him. 

When he pushes open the door, the groans of the undead fill your ears and you find your eyes darting frantically around the streets that you can now see with terrifying clarity. 

Hundreds of undead swarm the streets, stumbling and groaning as they shuffle around aimlessly in search of food. Simon reaches down and takes your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. You know it’s going to be the fight of your life but with Simon by your side, you have faith that you’re going to make it through and find somewhere safe together.

 property of rowarn; do not modify, repost, or translate.

Government Hooker

Synopsis. With the fame and glory of being an international popstar comes the inevitable threat of an overzealous stalker. You just didn’t think that it would also come with a very sexy, buff bodyguard behind your every move.

Pairing. Toji Fushiguro x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, popstar! reader, bodyguard! Toji, unprotected, brat-taming, spanking, choking, rough oral (male + female receiving), slight enemies-to-lovers, jealousy (Toji’s side), daddy kink, semi-public sex, manager! Nanami, creampie, power dynamics, dirty talk, stalking threats, TW. knife (brief), swearing.

Word count. 10.8k

A/N.  WHEWWWWWWWWW need some buff bodyguard Toji in my life. Slightly inspired by The Bodyguard.

It’s in New York that you meet Toji Fushiguro.

Pop Princess’ World Tour in Jeopardy After Stalking Threats

Dark Times for Pop Royalty: Will She Return for This Year’s Grammy Performance?

Is It Over For The International Sensation?

“Nanami, for the millionth time, do I look like I need a babysitter?” you squint at the headlines flashing across your phone screen, resisting the urge to fling it at the nearest wall. 

Sitting right in the middle of your whirlwind dressing room, you breathe in the heady air, thick with hairspray and anticipation for the upcoming shoot. Normally, you’d preen at the stylists swarming around you - but right now, their fussing only makes it all the more difficult to drive your manager dangerously close to an aneurysm.

As expected, Nanami drones out the same rehearsed response you’ve memorized word-for-word at this point. “My apologies, but with the severity of these threats, we can’t-”

“Afford to take any chances, I know I know.” Still, heart sinking, you scoff, “I understand, but 24/7 surveillance is insane. Can’t I have any-”

Bang!

To your chagrin - and perhaps Nanami’s mercy - the door flies open with a force that rattles its hinges. 

As the bustling activity in the dressing room freezes, your eyes immediately snap to the hulking figure at the door. Expression steely and vigilant, he strides in with a presence that demands attention. You can’t help but raise a brow at his audacity - and the unreal rippling of his muscles beneath that skin-tight t-shirt. 

“Sorry to interrupt, but that blue-haired freak Mojito at the front desk told me to come here.” a low rumble sweeps the room. 

Ah, this must be the one. Gesturing your stylists away, you square your shoulders - ready for a fight. “And who might you be”

“Name’s Fushiguro Toji, your new ‘babysitter’, princess.” he declares, voice gruff and unwavering over Nanami’s tired hum of “Bodyguard, he means bodyguard”. 

You narrow your eyes, studying the pure disinterest on his face. Great, just what you needed - you didn’t claw your way to the top to be scared and controlled by some loser stalker. Tilting your head defiantly, “Hmm, you don’t look like much of a bodyguard.”

Toji’s lips twitch into a sardonic smirk, gaze meeting yours with a hint of challenge, “Mhm, and you don’t act like much of a princess.”

You could almost hear the record screech to a halt. Everyone holding their breath, eyes locked on you as an agonizing beat of silence passes, half the room on the verge of fainting.

One. Two.

A startled laugh bursts from your lips. Shattering the tension in that dressing room as swiftly as the mirror in your stylist’s hand would’ve had you remained quiet a second longer. 

The audacity of this man. No one’s ever spoken to you like that before. 

Toji’s grin widens at your unexpected reaction, that sinful little scar on his lips stretching in amusement. Some small, strange part of him satisfied at passing your invisible test.

“Well, look at that, didn’t expect ya to have a sense of humor.” he comments, tone positively dripping with sarcasm, as if toying with you.

Plastering on that painfully saccharine sweet smile usually saved for nosy interviewers, you mockingly bat your lashes. “And I didn’t expect to have a babysitter breathing down my neck.” 

“Oh don’t expect me to babysit, princess. I don’t get paid nearly enough for that. According to that hardass manager of yours, my job is to keep you safe. Whether you like it or not.” 

With a dismissive wave of your hand, you turn back to your make-up artist, clearly done with this tedious conversation. “We’ll see how long that lasts. I have a knack for losing unwanted company.”

And if there’s one thing you’ve come to learn with Toji Fushiguro, it’s that you do not have a knack for losing unwanted company. Especially not him. 

Wherever you went, Toji was there first - it didn’t matter how fast you escaped, or how many hats and masks you put on. He was everywhere.

He was there when you slipped away to swap sunglasses with a passing stranger, convinced you’d outsmarted your looming bodyguard. But your triumphant laugh caught in your throat as you heard that familiar chuckle behind you - whirling around to find him sporting your ill-fitting shades with an amused glint in his eyes.

He was there during a chaotic fashion show, where you blended seamlessly amongst the flurry backstage, hoping to escape Toji’s watchful gaze. Heart pounding, making it all the way to the elevator. You’d barely let out a breath of relief before large hands intercept the closing doors. Towering figure stepping inside with a knowing grin, “Going somewhere, princess?”

Hell, he was even there when you hatched a plan to ditch him on the tarmac of the bustling airport. Making a dash for your private plane, and settling into your plush seat with smug satisfaction. Ah, at least you’ll have a few hours of peace until Tokyo without-

“Damn, first class is nice. Must be nice to be pretty and rich.” a low whistle causes you to groan inwardly (and outwardly).

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” you mutter under your breath, at the man seated right beside you. At this point, you half expected him to be keeping guard outside as you shower.

Toji was always there. Steadfast as ever, firm chest always blocking whatever escape plan you’ve concocted. In all your years in the spotlight, you’ve never felt so frustrated. The dawning realization that there was no escape matching your slowly slipping sanity as you kick off the first stop of your world tour - Tokyo.

It’s in New York that you meet Toji Fushiguro.

It’s in Tokyo that everything changes. 

Electricity crackling in the air, deafening roars of your name in your ears - you stand center stage. This was where you belonged - where you felt alive. 

Pouring your soul into your words, stage lights dance across your skin, as frantic as the adrenaline in your veins. The crowd before you was a living, breathing entity, swept away with energy and excitement.

The music swells to a crescendo as your voice carries across the arena, limelight following you spellbound.

In the intoxicating performance, you don’t notice a pair of widened green eyes doing the same, goosebumps rising along his skin. Gaze fixed on you with an intensity that rivaled the spotlight itself. A silent reverie. 

As the final notes of your song echoed through the arena you felt a rush of euphoria wash over you. Lights dimming, you draw a long breath, savoring the crackling energy onstage. A high that left you craving for more.

With a grateful smile, you bow deeply, screams and applause reverberating in your ears like thunder. 

The cheers continue to ring in your ears as you’re whisked away, backstage buzzing with excitement and anticipation over the special guests for the VIP event. Enveloped by your team, you navigate through the labyrinthine corridors of the arena.  

You catch Toji’s eye from where he flanked your right, your brow raising ever-so-slightly as if silently asking, “C’mon, didn’t I kill it out there?” 

But before you can decipher the fleeting expression on his face, the moment is shattered by a sudden commotion up front. 

“Hey, over here! Is it true there's a stalker after you? Is it to boost album sales?”

“Can you confirm the rumors that you're cozying up with Satoru from Tokyo Special Grades? The fans want answers!”

“Hey! How do you respond to critics who call you a has-been? Come on, speak up!”

You’re barely given a second to breathe before the paparazzi descend upon you like vultures. Bodies jostling urgently as rapidfire questions and incessant flashes make you see stars behind your eyes. 

Trying to block out the swarm of questions, you close your eyes amidst the dizzying chaos, trying to find some semblance of stability.

And stability finds its way in the strong arm that wraps protectively around you, pressing you close against a sculpted chest.

Toji.

“Don’ worry, princess, I’ll get you outta here.” hot breath brushing against your ear, sending shivers creeping down your spine. 

Pulled impossible close to his muscled frame, his steady heartbeat grounds you - while yours stutters as Toji’s voice cuts through the clamor like a knife. “Back off, vultures. Show some respect or I’ll make sure ya regret it.” 

Steely gaze almost provoking - as if anyone would dare challenge the imposing, almost frightening presence in the middle of the room. The paparazzi, momentarily stunned, falter in their pursuit, allowing Toji to carve a path through the chaos.

Hands still tight around you, as you’re hastily escorted away from the chaos, you steal a glance at Toji’s profile, illuminated by the harsh flashes of the cameras. Finding some intrusive little part of you that thrills at the raw intensity, cheeks flaring in response.

He’s so warm. 

You could almost cry as those gaudy VIP doors swing open, swiftly ushering you to safety. They slam shut, sealing off the cacophony outside. In the soft lounge music wafting through the air, you’re left with the nagging awareness of Toji’s body heated against yours.

Embarrassment floods through you like a tidal wave as you register the way you’re still clinging on to him. Abruptly pushing away, you take a larger step back than was probably appropriate. 

In the dimly lit room, you couldn’t make out exactly what was twinkling in Toji’s eyes as they flicker to you. But what you could see was that amused grin curling his lips as you uncharacteristically stumble over your words, “Thank you- Uh, for the way I-”

“Princess~!” Words choke in your throat as a flash of white and blue barrels into you, sending you reeling backward. Playful laughter ringing through the air. 

“S-Satoru?” you stammer, caught off guard. Before you’ve fully recovered, he’s pulling you into a bruising hug, nearly knocking you off your feet. 

“Hey there, gorgeous,” Satoru purrs, voice velvety as he leans in. “You absolutely killed it out there tonight.”

“Oh my gosh, Satoru! I haven’t seen you in forever.” A laugh escapes your lips, though the lingering warmth from Toji’s proximity still prickles at the edges of your consciousness. “What are you even doing here?”

Satoru chuckles, gaze lingering on you, “Couldn’t miss the biggest concert in Tokyo since ours, duh.” His energy was infectious, and you find yourself smiling along. “Thank you Satoru.” 

As Satoru continues to chatter animatedly about the concert, you distinctly realize that Toji has slipped into the background. Where was he? You find your eyes darting around the room in search of his familiar presence, slowly noticing the lack of Satoru’s bandmates in the process.

Your curiosity piqued, you couldn’t resist teasing him. “So, where are the rest of Tokyo Special Grades? I thought you guys were inseparable”

He shrugs it off casually, leaning down to whisper conspiratorially “Rehearsal. Don’t let ‘em know I’m here.”

As you titter at his antics, he gives you a playful nudge, eyes twinkling with mischief. “So…since the band’s away, how about you and me grab a drink together?.”

Something heavy pools in your stomach as those familiar words ring in your ears, hanging in the air - you knew all too well what he meant. 

Skin still tingling with the lingering heat of Toji’s touch, your eyes sweep the room for him one last time. Some strange part of your heart pangs when you find that those piercing green eyes, always studying you so intently, are nowhere to be found.

“Lead the way, Satoru.”

---

The world was rocking, as were Satoru’s fingers on you. Softly tracing along your collarbone, touch searing as he pushes you against the wall of your hotel room. 

Shivers run down your spine, all the way to your heated core. Breaths mingling, a desperate hunger ignites in the air as your fingers just barely graze against the buttons of his overpriced button-up. 

Tension reaching its peak, fingers hazily fumbling with those tedious buttons-

Bang!

You both startle as the door swings open, breaking the heady atmosphere inside. Dazed, you whirl your head towards the intruder standing at the door - Toji. Seems he had a penchant for dramatic entrances. 

Toji stands in the doorway, his gaze dark and unreadable. Without a word, he strides into the room, narrowed eyes flickering between you and Satoru.

“What the hell is going on here?” Toji’s voice is low and dangerous, cutting through the tense silence hanging in the air.

Satoru tries to play it cool, though you catch his easy smirk faltering slightly, “Oh? The bodyguard, right? What brings you here, my man?”

Ignoring the question - and Satoru altogether - Toji turns to you, eyes never leaving yours. “24/7 means 24/7. As your bodyguard, I can’t permit some stranger to get too close.” he asserts.

Mind still burning with lust, you feel red-hot irritation simmering beneath your skin. Fists clenching at the tone that leaves no room for argument. 

“I don’t recall signing up for a warden.” you snap, sharp and defiant. 

Toji’s expression remains impassive, but there’s a glint of determination in his eyes. “I’m not here to argue, princess. My job here is just to keep you safe, princess.” 

You scoff, shaking your head in disbelief - this was ridiculous. “Uh, newsflash, Toji. I can take care of myself just fine.”

“You little brat-”

Before the argument can escalate further, Satoru cuts in, his voice uncharacteristically calm and conciliatory. “Hey, it's okay, man. I’ll just leave,” he says, stepping away from you and raising his hands in surrender.

You shoot Satoru a look of frustration, torn between the desire for independence and for someone to fucking make you cum, and the unsettling feeling of vulnerability that Toji’s presence somehow seems to evoke. As the door slams shut - not before a playful hum of “Call me, princess~!” - a deafening silence envelopes the room. 

The room that now feels too small. Too hot. Thighs still quivering in anticipation.

Shit. 

Mind racing, you don’t catch the way Toji’s gaze softens slightly, a hint of regret flickering in his eyes. “I’m sorry, princess. But I can’t take any chances, I’m here to protect you.” 

“Enough with this ‘princess’ crap.” Running a hand through your hair, you let out an exasperated sigh, trying desperately to quell the storm of emotions swirling uncomfortably inside you. “And protect me from what? A harmless hookup?”

“From whoever is sending those threats,” Toji growls. “Until we catch them, you’re not allowed to be alone with anyone.”

Frustration reaching a boiling point, you storm up to him. “Fine, then you can stay here and watch me 25/8 for all I care. But, what are you going to do about that?” each word punctuated by a hard poke to his sculpted chest, laced with defiance - but also something raw and primal.

Green eyes darkening with intensity, you watch his jaw clench in restraint. He takes a step impossibly close, the air crackling with something you couldn’t name.

“You don’t get to play games with me, princess,” he warns, his voice low and husky, sending a shiver down your spine.

But - as always - you refuse to back down. Heart racing, mind hazy, you stand close enough that you’re toe to toe with him. A hand reaching out to grasp his large ones, manicured nails digging into the heated skin. In one, fluid motion, you place his hand in between your skirt, heated core soaking through your thin panties. 

“I’m not playing games, Toji.”

Before you can react, your back hits the wall. Surface cool on your heated skin. A brick-hard body is against yours, you could almost sink into him at how close he was pressed. 

Heat rushing to your cheeks, slick gushing to your cunt, your eyes lock with Toji’s darkened ones. He murmurs, words low and making your pussy jump in anticipation, “Didn’t expect you to be so filthy, princess.”

You lean in, lips mere inches away from his, whispering seductively. “Oh you have no idea.”

You didn’t expect those to be the words that make him snap - then again, you didn’t expect him to snap so easily either.

Toji’s eyes widen slightly, his jaw dropping open as he processes your words. He stares at you darkly for a moment, gaze traveling over your flushed cheeks, your devilish grin, and finally settling on your heaving chest.

Toji pins your wrists above your head with one hand, the other roughly tearing your skirt off your waist. Flimsy cloth hitting the carpeted floor. 

“Hey! Those are Dolce and-”

You don’t get to finish your sentence before his lips capture yours. Words catching in your throat as his tongue plunges unforgivingly into your mouth. 

Hands groping and teasing every inch of skin they could find. Kneading your breasts through your shirt, biting down hard on your bottom lip.

A desperate whine that you definitely would’ve been embarrassed about had you been in the right state of mind leaves your lips as something achingly hard grazes your core. Shit, you had an inkling but he was going to split you apart. Mindlessly wondering whether you’ll have to cancel the photoshoot tomorrow. Hips bucking for more more more-

“Patience, princess.” he murmurs, hotly against your lips. Thick fingers slipping beneath your panties - ripping them off. You gasp as the cold air hits your cunt, thighs quivering at the neat fingernail grazing your swollen folds. “You need to be taught a lesson first.”

You’re not in the mood for patience. But whatever retort gets stuck on the tip of your tongue as a long finger circles your throbbing clit. Tight, urgent little circles that inch you closer and closer to insanity. “F-faster-”

“You’ll take what I give, my lil’ slut.”

“I don’t have to listen to you.”

Ah, but alas - thank god for Toji Fushiguro being a merciful man. At least for the moment.

Pressing a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses down your body, dropping to his knees with urgency of a madman. Gaze fiery fiery with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine - you were in for it. 

Licking his lips, tongue catching on that small scar by the corner, he dives nose-deep into your needy pussy. Bed mere meters away, Toji takes you right against the wall. 

His hungry gaze devours you just as greedily as the mouth on your cunt. “Ah! Hah- Oh, Toji!” you gasp, arching into his hurried yet expert tongue. Harsh, purposeful movements that send electric shocks straight to your core. 

“Not Toji, princess.” he murmurs, lips hot against your own. Urgently lapping at your juices, as if a man dying of thirst.

Something hot and sticky coils at your stomach - maybe at the way his tongue was crooking just right to tease your dripping entrance, bullying its way past your swollen folds. Or maybe at the way the realization has your slick beading out of your pulsing pussy.

“D-daddy?” you whimper, almost-experimentally. 

And apparently it was the right answer, as Toji lets out a guttural groan into your snug cunt. Nose catching against your abused clit, rubbing hurried little circles. Tongue stretching out your snug walls, pooling your juices, unforgivingly dipping in and out in and out in and-

Speeding up now, his tongue has you losing your mind in ways you didn’t even know were possible. “Hngh- faster. Fuck me like you want it, daddy.” you whine, hips grinding further into his mouth.. 

And he lets you. In your lust-addled mind you barely have time to think about this strange act of mercy - only thinking of how close you were. So close. So fucking close. Mere moments away from shattering completely. Mind filled with only Toji and his tongue and Toji-

“Didn’t think I’d be so nice to ya, did you, princess?”

Orgasm slipping through your fingers, your crash from euphoria matches that of your heart.

Ah, Toji could cream his pants at the way your face fell so adorably as he pulled away. Delicate strings of spit and slick still connecting him to your slutty pussy. 

“Toji?” you mewl, bruised lips falling into a pretty pout that made him want to throw caution to the find and stuff you full of his cock right now. But no, he had to teach his lil’ princess a thing or two about not getting everything she wants.

“Patience, princess.” With a grin, Toji warns, voice husky and sending shivers down your spine and making you grind your hips against his lips. Before you can whine in disappointment, a sharp smack! cuts through the heady air. The sound hits you before the realization that Toji hit you. 

A sharp slap against your ass, the impact shocking you briefly before arousal takes over. You yelp at the sting, eyes widening in surprise.

“Wha-”

“Count to ten, then I’ll let you cum. You need to learn a thing or two about listening, brat.”

You stare at him defiantly, your heart pounding in your chest. A silent staredown that only makes heat pool more and more desperately at your core. Deafening need, slick dripping down your legs pathetically.

“O-one.” you whisper, voice strained with frustration and barely audible.

He watches you like a predator stalking his prey, eyes never leaving your face. Smack!

His hand connects with your ass again, a low hum of appreciation at the mewl leaving your kiss-bitten lips at the pain and filthy pleasure. Your ass stinging as much as your dripping cunt.

“...two.”

Apparently approving of your obedience, he dives back in with a low growl. Burning his face between your thighs, because fuck oxygen - breathing couldn’t compare to how sweet you were on his tongue.

Lapping up your sensitive folds, scar rough against them, teasing. Edging your climax and your sanity like the merciless bastard he was. Smack! 

“Hah- ah! Two- Oh, jus’ like that-” Broken, raw moans escape your lips as he continues his torture. Ah, he loved this view. The people’s princess, so teary and falling apart because of him.

In the obscenity of it all, thick fingers stuff themselves in your cunt. The lack of preparation makes you squeeze around Toji’s tongue as they pump into your sloppy hole relentlessly. In and out in and out- 

Smack!

“Th-three- hngh-”

Purposefully missing that one spot Toji knew would have you seeing stars. You haven’t earned that yet.

Blood rushes straight to his cock as you throw your head back, letting out a strangled sob. “Daddy, let me cum. Wanna cum on your tongue. Ah-” Oh, you clever minx, knew exactly what made his leaking cock throb with need. For that you get two sharp smacks on each cheek. 

“F-four. Five.” you’re in tears at this point. Delicate little streaks down your cheeks to where Toji had his face buried in your cunt.

“Tha’s right, princess.” Toji praises, voice thick with desire and sending vibrations that make your walls clench. “Tell me how badly you need it.”

Body convulsing uncontrollably around his hot tongue, pushing you closer and closer to the edge - only to reel you back again. Denying you. Chipping away at your sanity bit by bit. A hand reaches to grab a fistful of his silky black locks, tugging needily - and you get punished accordingly. 

Smack! Smack! Smack!

“E-eight! Hngh- please.” 

“Please!” you moan, voice raw with need and desperation. Finally breaking for him - being pushed this far with anyone before. “Please, let me cum. Please please wanna cum-.” Close. You were so close that it hurt.

Ever the merciful man, he forgives this little transgression. Only continuing to cup your sore cheeks possessively, hands mapping the expanse of your heated skin.

“Please, Daddy.” you choke, a broken whisper. Now exhausted, knees weakening, it’s all you can do to not collapse on the floor, Toji’s strong hold on your hip to control you being the only thing holding you up.

Several things happen at once. You barely even feel the final two, sharp slaps - too far gone to register anything other than the rough thumb pressing on your sensitive clit. Hard. 

And then you’re cumming. 

Body convulsing and bowing into him, crying out raw moans of Toji’s name as you cream around his tongue. Your vision blurs at the edges, grip searing on Toji’s hair, tangling in the soft strands and pulling him impossibly closer to ride out your high on his pretty face. 

White-hot pleasure courses through your entire body, thighs quivering delicately around his face as you chase peak after peak. 

As the stars behind your eyes disappear into nothingness, you’re left limp and boneless, held up against the wall with a single, muscled hand.

Toji - ever the gentleman, supports you with a steady arm before you slip down the wall, valiant knees finally giving out. 

Blinking your vision back, you catch a glimpse of his achingly hard erection. Straining painfully against his trousers, a dark patch right where his thick head was. And despite your severely fucked out state, your mouth still waters.

Obviously catching your line of sight, he adjusts his uncomfortably tight pants. Steering your still-lustfully delirious self to the bed. “You were such a good girl f’me, princess. Let’s stay that way, hm?”

You blink up at him, confusion clouding your mind. Did he just compliment you? You must be mistaken. 

But as you look into his eyes, you see a genuine twinkle of fondness mixed in with the desire that makes your skin burn. A heady combination. One that makes your mind spin, even as you’re carefully placed on the soft bed. Even as he swiftly closes the door with a low whisper of “Rest now, you’ve got a busy day tomorrow.” leaving no room for argument.

Sinking into the soft mattress, a strange surge of euphoria rushes through you as you realize two things:

Nothing would ever be the same. 

It was going to be your personal challenge to make Toji Fushiguro crack. 

Heart racing, feet thumping tersely against the plush carpet, for perhaps the first time in years, Fushiguro Toji is taken aback. The heavenly sight of you falling apart underneath him searing into his brain. Something coiling uncomfortably in his stomach, rushing all the way to his throbbing dick. But, right now, the only thing he’s thinking of being to fucking find somewhere to fuck his fist to the memory.

---

Your third night in Tokyo was a whirlwind of lights and camera flashes. And yet, in the midst of it all you still escaped - this time with Toji - claiming “security talks”. Pulling him into an abandoned green room, your glossy lips capture his with searing passion. Pulling away teasingly, breathless, only once you were sure you’d kissed him silly and achingly hard. And promptly skipping away to bother your make-up artist.

Ah, yet the stubborn bastard still didn’t crack.

It’s in Melbourne where you learned that Toji was much more than just a bodyguard. Finally bothering him enough to join you out rather than shadow you for the first time. Dragging him to a tiny karaoke booth tucked away in a dimly lit corner of town, belting out your favorite tunes to him while he leaned against the wall with his arms crossed. And if you caught a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips, well, neither of you said anything. 

Your glittering heels were placed teasingly in his lap, chattering away as he drove you two back, your favorite pastime as of late. A silent dare, almost goading. His steely gaze trained on the bustling road and that one annoying blue car trying to swerve him. 

“So, Toji, in your military stint ever tried to sneak away incognito but wear a disguise so bad you end up on the front page?”

He chuckles, eyes flickering down at your feet resting comfortably on him. “Can’t say I have, but I once mistook a high-ranking officer for a recruit. Had him doing push-ups before I realized my mistake.”

You burst into laughter, sound echoing in the car. Feet brushing against him right there - just a little accident, right?

But it takes until Paris for you two to break.

In the chic confines of your favorite studio in Nanterre, the scent of freshly brewed coffee heavy in the air, you find yourself chattering away on call with Gojo Satoru. His voice crackling through the speaker amidst the glow of studio lights.

“That beat you sent is pure magic, Satoru. It’s perfect!” you hum, excitement bubbling in your voice as you bob your head to the soft music playing in the background. 

Satoru’s response is immediate, enthusiasm matching yours, “See, what did I tell ya. Can’t wait to see what you’ll come up with. You sure I get no sneak peaks for this secret lil’ project of yours?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Thought so, but anyway, how’s the City of Love been treating you, darling?” he teases.

You laugh, rolling your eyes playfully, “Please, Satoru. You know I’m too busy dodging Toji for any of that.”

Satoru chuckles knowingly on the other end of the line, “Ah yes. From what happened last time, I imagine he’s been a welcome distraction, huh? Hey, is his dick really as big as his BDE is?”

“Oh fuck off.” you scoff, heat rising to your cheeks. “And for that, I’m leaving.” 

Swiftly ending the call, you cut off Satoru’s protests. Slight embarrassment coursing through your veins at how apparently obvious you two had been. A strange pang of longing flickers in your chest as you realize you haven’t seen Toji all day - Nanami mentioned something about a security briefing for your closely upcoming Grammy performance.

You sigh at the irony of the situation - just when you thought you got that freedom you’d been yearning for so long, you find yourself wanting for that musclehead presence even more. 

Shaking your head, you turn back to your mixing console, ready to throw yourself into the music once more. Yet before you could, your phone buzzes with a new notification. A quick glance reveals that familiar contact name and a series of messages that have your cheeks flaring once more. 

Blind rat #4 🧿🧿:

You better not block me for this but is this secret project for that bodyguard? You whipped WHORE~~

LMAO JKJK IK you don’t write songs about other people.

Unless…

As that block button was tapped, it’s said that Satoru’s piercing shriek echoed across in all 23 wards of Tokyo - making the people fear an oncoming Godzilla attack.

“Damn Satoru.” you grumble, tossing your phone onto the leather sofa in the corner. “Always saying stupid thi-”

But as you turn around, your breath catches in your throat. There, standing in the doorway, is Toji. His presence filling the space, commanding attention with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine.

“Toji?” you breathe, surprise mingling with a rush of conflicting emotions. “I didn’t expect the briefing to end so soon-”

“What’s this about that brat Satoru, princess?” he murmurs, voice low and gravelly. 

He raises his head to meet your gaze, and a jolt of electricity runs through your body. Oh, those eyes. Your skin feels heated in the crackling air. “Nothing.” you reply - almost suspiciously quickly - the words tumbling out in a rush, “Just Satoru being...well, Satoru.”

Toji’s lips twitch in a semblance of a smile, a hint of amusement glinting in his eyes among that carnal look. “I see,” he murmurs, taking a step closer to you. You have half the mind to step back - but why would you ever.

“Y’know, I didn’t think you still talk with that white-haired clown.” his minty breath fans your face, darkened eyes searching yours. And you can see the question forming in them before he even asks. “You still plan on fuckin’ him when you go back to Tokyo?”

And usually you’d bristle. Usually, that hardened part of you that never takes shit would rear her head and give Toji an earful. Usually. But right now, a dangerous idea was taking root in your head. 

Heat rushing to your core at the look in his eyes that said he wanted to devour you alive, you simply tilt your head coyly. 

“So what?” A smirk playing on your lips, “Gonna do something about it, daddy? Or are you just gonna leave me all hot and bothered like you have-”

Your back hits the leather sofa before you even realize what is happening. 

Bouncing at the sheer force of his throw, you let out a yelp of surprise. Skirt riding up, legs splaying out so sinfully for him. 

The cushion dips as he looms closer, approaching you unhurriedly like a predatory closing in on its prey. A dangerous little smirk playing on your lips, you spread your legs wider, inviting him in. A carnal part of you relishing in the way his eyes can’t seem to decide between your soaked panties and the way you bite your lips so coyly.

“If you’re that desperate, then you’re gonna get it, my lil’ slut” 

He’s on top of you now, tongue hot against your neck, leaving heated, open-mouthed kisses down to your collarbone. You yelp as sharp teeth dig into the soft skin. Hands exploring every inch of you, desperate for more - and you’re no better.

Sharp nails digging into that sinfully tight t-shirt, all but tearing it to shreds. Your mouth waters as it hits the floor, Toji’s chiseled body on full display. Your eyes greedily take in every curve and dip, hands reaching out to grope the toned skin. Pulling. Teasing. Not enough time in the world to savor the Adonis that was Toji Fushiguro.

His hands were pulling up your shirt haphazardly. Bunching your panties with two fingers, pulling down down down till your cunt was bare and spread open so shamefully for him. “Shit, so wet n’ ready. This for me or that brat, huh?” he grunts cruelly, lowering himself beside you to murmur in your ear.

“Now, on your knees, princess. Be a good lil’ slut for me and don’t make me wait.”  breath hot against your ears, making you shudder so sinfully. It made him want to eat you alive.

You consider disobeying him, just to face his delicious punishment. But that predatory look in his eyes has you immediately dropping to the ground in front of him.

Your hungry gaze takes in the heavenly sight before you. Legs spread, eyes half-lidded, pants pulled down just enough so that his heavy, leaking cock bobbing enticingly in the air. 

Eyes widening, your cunt clenches in both fear and anticipation. Shit, maybe this was why he was holding back. 

He was big. Ridiculously big, and rock-hard. Furiously red with thick veins running down the side, glistening with precum.

“C’mon now, if you’re gonna act like such a slut then learn to take it like one, princess.” Saliva pools on your tongue, warm as it hits Toji’s thick tip, achingly hard. A carnal part of you relishes in the low hiss that leaves him. 

Your tongue snakes out, unable to hold yourself back any longer. Swiping at the droplets of precum pooling on his tip. The sinfully salty taste explodes on your tongue, sending shocks of pleasure right to your cunt.

You feel his intense gaze on you as your mouth wraps around his thick head, inching down slowly. Stretching your lips obscenely, filling you up in ways you never thought were possible. 

Your breath gets caught in your throat as he pulses in your throat. It was overwhelming and everything you wanted to be doing right now.

Ah, but you should’ve known by now. Should’ve realized as your teary eyes look up to meet the dangerous glint in his. 

With a feral groan, his hips thrust forward. You were too slow. 

Hardening impossibly at the way you choke and gag around him, tears springing to your eyes. Using you in a way that was so debauched. “Hah- Fuck. love it when you sing, princess, but you look better choking on my cock.”

Your nose was buried in his pubic hair now, wet with saliva and precum. His heady, masculine scent filling your senses. Toji’s thrusts were jerky, desperate. 

Grip searing on your scalp, Toji uses it as leverage as he fucks your face till his tip hits your poor, abused throat. Moving you up and down on his cock with mindless need, hips rutting with reckless abandon.

Yet, you wanted more. Needed more. More more more. You wanted to feel him deep inside you, splitting you open, making you come harder than you ever thought possible.

And you’re guessing it showed on your dazed eyes. Because a broken, dangerous laugh leaves him. His grip on your hair intensifies, pulling your head back roughly until your eyes water. “More? You want fucking more? Then prove it.” 

Toji’s thrusts increase in speed, his raspy grunts becoming louder and louder as he rams his cock deeper into your mouth, your pussy throbbing in response.

You moan around his erection, unable to form coherent sentences due to his length stretching your throat. 

Without hesitation, you reach up and grab his balls, massaging them firmly as you suck him deeper. Pressing right in between that one spot you knew would make him see stars. Pressing tight little circles. Over and over-

An appreciative groan leaving him, Toji’s thrusts become erratic. Movements growing frantic. “Fuck, Fuck, princess, you're going to be the death of me,” he curses, his voice strained.

You rub your thighs together desperately, relaxing your throat more, refusing to let go. Desperate to taste him, to experience the blissful agony of his seed painting your mouth. But when has Toji ever let you have your way? Never, that’s when.

Instead, he yanks your head back, pulling you off his cock with a rough, almost cruel motion. Your lips pop free, leaving his sensitive head exposed to the cool air. Gasping for breath, your chest heaves as you try to regain your composure.

Before you can even register what's happening, Toji pulls you into him, forcing you on your hands and knees. Large hands grasp your waist, holding you firmly in place. “Face down, ass up. You’re going to take it like a good little slut.”

Delicious goosebumps erupt down your spine. Licking a long, languid stripe down your back along them as you position yourself before him, Toji couldn’t help but huff out a dangerous laugh at your sinful gasp.

Mouth watering at your glistening cunt, clenching so pathetically around nothing, Toji pools your juices on two of his fingers. Promptly pushing them into his mouth with a lewd pop! groaning at his favorite taste. “Next time, I’m gonna eat out your pretty lil’ cunt while you suck on my cock, princess.”

“Please, daddy. Anything.”

Fingers circling your wet entrance, your words were music to Toji’s ears. Music that mingles with your needy, disappointed whine as he abruptly pulls away. But that doesn’t last too long - with low hiss, he buries his throbbing cock into your dripping cunt with almost no preparation.  

You keen at the stretch as he presses in - deliciously painful, boderling insane, and exactly what you wanted right now. Splitting you apart on his throbbing cock. 

Toji was hot and throbbing agonizingly inside you, each little bump bump bump sending white-hot pleasure down your spine.

“Ah- are- are you all the way in, daddy?” he hears you whimper, voice tinged with helpless desperation. Huffing out a laugh, Toji’s greedy gaze catches on the obscene sight of you sucking him up so sinfully below. “Not even close, princess.”

Pushing in shallow, determined little thrusts that have your hot cunt enveloping him deeper and deeper. Cock hardening impossibly at the soft ah! ah! ah! leaving your mouth each time he rams into you. If you wanted it so bad, you were going to get all of it. A hoarse groan leaves him as his heavy balls meet your twitching folds, fat tip kissing your cervix - finally bottoming out. 

Now, Toji knows he’s big - takes pride in it, in fact. But he’s never been more proud of the fact than right now, hungry gaze taking up the way your eyes widen in shock, snug walls clenching down with the struggle to accommodate him. 

“You alright, princess?” he taunts, voice thick with satisfaction as he watches your face twist with a mix of pleasure and pain. “Can’t your slutty lil’ pussy handle my cock?” Tell me, he as big as me? 

And, of course, you snap back - because you’re mouthy even when you’re whining around his thick cock. Ah, next time he’s gotta make you choke on it for longer. 

“Fuck you, daddy.” your response is a feral growl, hips desperately trying to fuck back into his. “If you’re not all talk then fuck me like you want to already.”

Smack! 

A sharp slap stinging your cheek, you groan in response as absolutely raw, carnal fucking need courses through Toji’s veins. Intoxicating him. Oh, he was going to ruin you. Grinning cruelly, he utters “Then take it. And don’t fucking complain.”

With that, he begins to move. Not easing in, ramming into you with animalistic efficiency. Your ass stinging as each thrust has his hips meeting yours brutally. Toji’s pretty sure his hips were out of control at this point, high off your teary cries of pain and pleasure. That cluttered studio heady with sex and pure, animalistic desperation.”S’good- ah! S’too much-”

Smack!

There’s no going back now. Toji fucks you in a way that makes you feel so deliciously filthy. Plunging into your heated cunt with no restraint. Thrusts positively savage. Every inch of him fills you, stretching you beyond your limits, and you love every painful second of it.

Vision blurring at the edges, you reach out a hand to grab the armrest for stability. Body jerking with each movement, his bruising grip on your hips the only thing keeping you from being fucked off the sofa.

“Who’s fucking ruining you like this?”

“You! Jus’  like that. Fucking ruin me, daddy.” Legs shaking uncontrollably, arching impossibly deeper onto his throbbing cock, you whine each time his length slides in and out of your swollen folds. “Harder…please, harder.” you plead, fucked out.

For perhaps the first time, he obliges, increasing his speed mindlessly. God, you were sure both of you were about to explode any second now. 

Fucked out of your mind, you barely register the muscled front pressing into you, abs rippling against your back. Large hands snake from your hips, leaving deep, purple marks for you to remember him by. 

Smack! 

Another handprint on your ass, as you frantically move your hips to meet Toji’s unforgiving cadence. Sensing your urgency, one of his hands finds itself on your throbbing clit, drawing methodical, harsh circles on it. Pressing just enough to have you seeing stars being your eyes. And the other - digging into your neck.

Your frantic moans choke in your throat, feeling fucking delirious off both the change in angle and the hand around your throat. Eyes flashing at the lack of air and the blood roaring in your ears - and Toji. 

“Open your mouth, princess.” he grows, voice dangerously close to your ears, cock still driving into yours with brutal precision. The intensity of the moment - electric. 

Mindlessly, you comply, tongue lolling out so lewdly. That’s when he does it - without warning, he spits into your open mouth. Once. Twice. Three times.

Steady stream of saliva slightly missing your face - on purpose, you absentmindedly realize - as it dribbles over your kiss-bitten lips and down the side of your face. A marking. 

“No one else gets to fuck you like this, princess.”

Hot on your tongue, sliding down to your throat. He tasted of such sin, it made your cunt clamp down hard.

“Now, what do good girls say?” he grits out, through clenched teeth. The absolute insanity in his voice matching the frenzy coiling inside of you.

“Thank you, daddy.”

You reach around to capture his lips with yours, nails digging into his neck hard enough to draw blood - a marking of your own. White-hot ropes of pleasure making you gasp into his lips - tender where his cock was unforgiving.

In the lewd haze of the moment you’re dimly aware of Toji’s body shuddering above you, throbbing cock twitching deeply in your pussy.

“Oh, fuck! M-hah- M’cumming, better take every drop like my good lil’ slut. Fuck.” 

You flinch as he groans ragged profanities into your mouth. Tight balls squeezing painfully as he cums with a loud groan of your name. Thick, hot ropes that paint your walls white. Two large arms wrap bruisingly tight around your waist, veins popping out as he crushes you impossibly close to him. Toji’s hips not giving up their torture on your abused, awaiting cunt, pumping his seed deeper and deeper. 

Full. You feel so full. And so, so complete. 

You can feel such an obscene mix of your slick and his cum mapping down your legs every time his hips slam into yours. Dripping onto the cushion, pooling at the sofa in a way so sloppy, you knew you’d have to scour online later for a replacement.

Stomach now feeling uncomfortably inflated and hot, vision blurry, you collapse onto the cushion. The last of your strength leaving you with the orgasm that you’re sure fried your brain. You mewl at both the sensitivity and the sudden emptiness as Toji pulls out with a wet pop!

A rush of cum gushes out of you, drenching both you and the cushion below. Limp and boneless beneath him,  you let out a sigh at the heat of his release seeping into your skin.

A soft silence fills the room like a lullaby. Everything feels so heavy. So dizzying and so warm. You barely register the strong hands lifting you gently towards the direction of the bathroom. The only thing on your mind being Toji and what a privilege it was to fall asleep in someone’s arms. You wouldn’t really mind this every night…

And in the dim lighting of that heady studio, fucked to sleep and covered in sweat and his cum, Toji thinks you’ve never looked so beautiful.

His heart lurches as he realizes - in all of Paris, the one sight he wants to look at is you. His pretty popstar.

---

“For the last time. I don’t do celebrities, especially not spoiled pretty popstars.”

Undeterred, the blond man leans forward in his chair, his expression indiscernible behind those glasses. “We’re told you’re the best of the best, even from ex-military. And if money’s the issue then I’ll double- no, triple whatever you’re making right now.”

Jaw tightening, skepticism dripped from his words. “All this for some celebrity drama?” 

“Fushiguro, we’re talking big people, and even bigger money. And a girl’s life in genuine danger on top of it all,” a hint of desperation creeping into words that cut through the tense air. 

“Genuine danger, huh?”

Toji runs a hand through his hair, questioning what the fuck he got himself into by opening the door for this human definition of a stick up one’s ass. Mind racing, eyes darting around the room, they catch yours - twinkling on the glossy cover of some magazine thrown haphazardly on the table. 

Traitorously, something prickly and uncomfortable settles in his stomach as the words ring in his ears. 

Genuine danger. 

Heaving out a sigh, he narrows his eyes at the man currently studying his reaction. 

“A year. That’s it. No more, no less. I don’t care if that prima donna princess of yours begs on her knees otherwise.”

But right now, your twinkling gaze set on him, lips curved into a blinding smile as you waltz through Los Angeles International Airport - as much as you could with your entourage - some small, raw part of him thinks he wouldn’t mind staying like this for a long, long time. 

LAX was probably one of your favorite airports. Not because of its size or architecture, but because of the thrumming energy of the opportunity to come. Namely, your Grammy performance.

Eyes slightly heavy, yeah, you were cutting it close - to Nanami’s ever-graying hair at the stress.  But hey - at least no paparazzi tipped off for your unexpected arrival.

You just couldn’t resist the temptation to push your departure off for a day. Taking the extra time to wander along the Seine with Toji, talking about everything from your new dance number for next month’s Madrid show to why Nanami was a masochist for staying in this industry, all the way to Toji’s military stories that even Hollywood couldn’t dream up. 

The setting sun casting a soft glow on both of your uncanny disguises - your choice of course. A newfound understanding crackling between you two.

And right now, his presence steadfast behind yours as you weave through the bustling terminal, you feel a rush of excitement at finally performing that little project you’d been working on. 

More specifically what Toji’s reaction to it would be. Would he love it? Would he hate it? Would he realize just what that inconspicuous voice memo you bothered him into was actually for? 

But then came the real test: would he realize just who it was for?

The thought made you smirk inwardly. Imagine Toji’s face when he puts two and two together. 

Turning around, you catch Toji’s eye, a mirthful glint dancing in yours. “So, Toji, ready to witness greatness at the Grammys?” you quip, tone playful as you bump shoulders with him. Of course, the man barely budges. 

He raises an eyebrow, smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “As long as I don't have to wear a tuxedo, princess.”

“Aww, and here I was thinking we could match.” you whine. Though a chuckle leaves your lips, “And that reminds me…” you trail off as your voice drops to a conspicuous whisper.

Delighting at the playful sigh that leaves his lips as Toji leans down, allowing you to whisper words meant for only him. “You better reward me after my performance, y’know. I remember someone saying something about ‘eating me out till I cry’” 

“You won’t be getting any reward if you continue acting like such a slut, princess.” warm breath tickling your ear as he murmurs. 

“If the shoe fits.” you bat your lashes, mockingly innocent. 

“If the shoe fits then please get into the car. The driver’s here and the team are on their way.” Nanami’s no-nonsense voice rings out. Already sounding dangerously close to an impending stroke. 

“Yes, mother.” you quip, stifling your laughter as you step outside. It’s a short walk to your destination, the cool morning breeze greeting you as you head for your waiting car, just stuck behind some slightly-oddly parked blue car. 

Ah, that’s LA for you, you chuckle inwardly, walking towards it - that strangely familiar blue car. The one you’ve seen a few too many times these past few weeks in the corner of your vision. 

Strange.

Steps slightly speeding up, a cold sweat trickles down your spine. Unease prickling at the back of your mind, something tells you you’re being watched. And not in the way of paparazzi snapping a stray picture.

Subconsciously, you take a half-glance inside the car - time freezes. Heart immediately lurching into your throat at the sight.

There. 

The door swings open. 

A flash of blue hair, one foot out of that dreaded blue car - is him. You don’t know how you knew it was him. You don’t know how you knew he was there. The only thing being your eyes locked on that glinting knife in his hand. Winking mockingly at you in the morning sun. 

Gray eyes locked on yours, whirling with chilling maniacal intensity. The cool morning breeze feels icy against your skin as a primal fear claws at your insides once you realize the imminent danger.

Toji’s trained instincts kick into high gear, eyes locked with his. Positioning himself between you and the assailant, his hand reaches for the weapon concealed beneath his suit jacket. Only for them to stutter in midair as he realizes they’re still safely stored in his checked luggage. Unreachable. 

Shit. Clever bastard.

Nanami moves with a swift grace, eyes scanning the surroundings for any nearby law enforcement. 

Mahito’s lips curl into a malevolent smirk as he realizes the vulnerability, grip tightening on his knife as he takes a menacing step forward. The air so tense you found it hard to breathe.

“You.” the words ring venomously, panic surging within you. “You think you’re so high and mighty, huh?”

“Step back before you do something you regret, you freak.” Toji’s voice is steady, body poised for action. Eyes locked on every minute tremor of the knife in his hands.

His eyes wide and bloodshot, staring right into Toji - almost as if trying to look at you through him. “Little princess~” he taunts in an eerie sing-song voice. “Why did you leave me here all alone, I was lonely, y’know~ And this gorilla never left you alone, ah what a pain to follow you around. But I did it- of course, I did it for my princess.” 

Another step forward.

No one engaged with Mahito’s delirious rambles. Nanami’s hand was firm on your shoulder, whispering in your ear to get away. Now. 

But your mind was stuck on the words that cut through you like a knife - the knife that he was now slicing through the air in jagged, deranged motions. “She can’t leave. She belongs here with me.”

Before anyone can react, Mahito throws himself forward with startling speed. Glinting blade deadly through the air. You stagger backward, the world spinning in a dizzying blur of fear and desperation.

Toji springs into action with lightning speed, body lunging expertly. Hands deflecting the blade with a swift motion. Knife flashing mere millimeters away from his skin.

Yet Mahito continues struggling relentlessly. Each movement calculated and cold. Hand slashing at Toji as he ducks and weaves away, attempting to divert the attack away from you. 

The grip on your shoulder tightens, “Let’s get away now. While he’s distracted.” 

You’re being pulled away before you know it. 

Movements sluggish in the air thick with tension and fear. Your body is frozen, ice running through your veins. Nanami’s urgent hold on your shoulder moving you away. 

But your eyes remain locked on Toji.

On the way he swiftly tries to find an opening amidst the blur of movement, knife slashing away as if it were a game. You were fighting to look back now, body twisting against the one moving you away. Struggling to follow Toji’s powerful kick to Mahito’s midsection. The impact knocking the wind out of him, knife faltering. Yet rage still surging.

Hand coming down down down. Merciless metal meeting skin. Red-hot crimson flashing behind your eyes and staining the ground below Toji as he’s slashed viciously. 

It’s in New York that you meet Toji Fushiguro.

It’s in Los Angeles that you think you might lose him.

The sickening sound of metal against flesh echoing amidst the blood-curdling scream you don’t realize you let out. 

The sound making Mahito falter for the briefest millisecond, a flicker of hesitation flitting across his twisted features.

And it’s all the opening Toji needs. 

Launching himself at the man, colliding with a bone-jarring impact that has both bodies crashing to the ground. 

A deadly struggle, and despite Mahito’s fierce grappling - fueled by pure madness - he’s no match for Toji’s punishing blows. Every strike clear and calculated, pinning his flailing hands to the ground.

The screech of metal against gravel and distant footsteps ring in your ears, as Toji wrestles the knife from his hands. Glinting metal skidding away.

 For a fleeting moment, the world seems to hold its breath.

“You’re supposed to be with me.” Mahito's voice pierces through the din, voice hoarse and desperate. “I’m the one who’s been there for you ever since you stepped foot in that godforsaken agency. Me. It’s me.” he snarls. Eyes cutting into yours.

Takedown tightening, Toji pins his body tighter against the ground. “You don’t have the right to talk to her, you blue-haired freak. Be grateful we’re in broad daylight and I can’t rip you limb from limb for her.”

You release a breath you didn’t know you were holding as Toji’s strained yet still steady voice rings in your ears - in tune with the voices you’re now realizing were surrounding you. As uniform-clad figures rush into your circle of vision, you distinctly realize with a jolt that it’s over. 

Knees weakening in relief, you feel them hit the gravel. It’s all over. You feel light-headed - absolutely delirious. Vision blurring with tears and all you can see is red red red. 

Blood roaring in your ears, you miss Mahito’s shrieks as he’s restrained and escorted away. The only thing registering in your mind being the warm hand under your arm, pulling you up gently as if you were something so utterly precious. 

Toji.

“Are you okay, princess? Need me to loosen another one of that bastard’s teeth?” he rumbles slowly, slightly breathless. As you cling onto the words like a lifeline, a fresh wave of tears prick your eyes at his uncharacteristically careful tone.

“Are you okay?” you repeat, words heavy with remorse as you blink at the sight of that stark red against his t-shirt. A deep gash running along his side that left Toji vulnerable in ways you knew he would never openly admit. 

Seeing your shaken state, he lets out a sigh. Pulling you flush against his chest, careful to avoid his injury. “I’ll be fine princess.” he murmurs, quiet words strained and meant for only you, amidst the chaos in the background. You lean into his touch, reveling in the feeling of him being solid and whole and here. With you.

You think you could stay like that forever. 

Ah, but one can’t get everything they want. 

Nanami’s voice cuts through the fragile peace with his usual calm authority, “I've spoken with the authorities,” you whirl around to meet his exhausted gaze. “They’ve assured me that Mahito will be taken into custody, and measures are being put in place to prevent any future incidents.”

Eyes flitting between you and Toji, he continues, voice taking on a much softer tone. “There’s no need for you to attend the Grammys after all that happened, I understand and will contact them if you wish to stay here.” And with that, Nanami walks away to a nearby police officer, presumably to give a statement - but you knew better, grateful for the moment of privacy he’d given you two.

Right. The Grammys.

Part of you is relieved at the prospect of not having to pretend that everything is fine in front of the flashing cameras and millions of scrutinizing eyes. And the other part, well, you glance up at Toji. 

Wide eyes meeting those green ones. Unspoken questions swirling between you two like a whirlwind. Is it really over? What does that mean for us? Will you stay?

Please stay.

“I don’t want to go,”  you confess quietly, voice barely above a whisper. “I want to stay here with you, make sure you’re okay.”

Toji’s gaze softens, a hint of warmth flickering in his usually steely eyes as he brushes a stray lock of hair from your face. “My princess worries about me, hm? I’ll be fine.” he reassures, yet words weak from the pain. “Go out there and kill it.”

And in the delicate tension of it all you find it in yourself to arch your eyebrow skeptically, “Fine? You’re bleeding out, Toji. That doesn’t exactly scream ‘fine’ to me.”

“I’ve had worse, I promise. Worst case scenario I track that freak down and break his arm.”

You let out a watery laugh as Toji leans down, hot breath fanning your face. His lips brush against yours in a tender kiss. A silent reassurance. But just as quickly as it began, he pulls back with a playful bite to your lower lip.

“Now go. Blow the overpriced silk pants off of all those overrated snobs. Trust me.”

You almost bristle at his words, but that twinkle of fondness in his eyes made all your inhibitions melt away - involuntarily, of course. Throat tight, you give an affirmative nod. 

Now, Toji always did delight in catching you off guard. But right now, ignoring the fussing EMTs, watching you be hastily ushered away by your team - the words tumble out before he can stop them. 

“Oi, princess.” he calls out, voice carrying over the chaos. “I love ya.”

And as he watched you trip over nothing but thin air, a lightheaded chuckle leaves him - maybe it was the bloodloss, probably it was that adorable look on your face. “Smooth, princess.” he laughs.

As you regain your composure and flip him off, promptly being whisked away by Nanami - who looks two steps into his grave already - Toji can’t help but feel a sense of pride swell within him. “Tha’s my girl,” he mutters to himself, a rare gentle smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

---

“Ladies and gentlemen, music aficionados around the world. It is my pleasure to announce our next performance, a star who needs no introduction. Get ready to witness the talent, the charisma, and the sheer audacity of the one, the only-.”

Cameras flashing. Cheers roaring, The anticipation electric as your name echoes through the auditorium, the audience’s excitement reaching a fever pitch as you take to the stage.

“Buckle up, darlings, because this is ‘Government Hooker’!”

---

“They don’t call you pop royalty for nothing, huh? You're going to take over the charts with that one!”

“Girl, who was that sexyass voice in that song? Drop me his number if you aren’t already with him.”

“Stunning as usual, huh?”

The whirlwind of congratulations and praise envelop you back at the Grammys afterparty. Your hand throbs from being clutched so tightly, and you can’t help but smile at the adrenaline and euphoria thrumming through your veins, washing away most of what happened earlier today. Yeah, you killed it.

But as you navigate through the crowd, exchanging pleasantries and posing for photos, a nagging part of your mind keeps returning to Toji. Red, red to match your gown. He should’ve been here with you tonight. 

Nodding and smiling along at the compliments, you find yourself drifting away from the bustling center of the party. Constantly checking your phone for any updates other than Nanami’s “He’s alive.” text from a few hours ago.

Ah, there it is.

Finally reaching the exit, goosebumps erupt along your skin as you step out into the chilly night air. You’re momentarily blinded by the barrage of camera flashes from the waiting paparazzi outside. Their shouts merging into an indistinguishable cacophony. 

Yet, you push forward, determined to reach your awaiting car.

Just as you approach the curb, a sleek black Rolls-Royce pulls up beside you, tinted windows shielding the figure inside. God, you gotta remember to give Nanami a raise.

Swiftly sliding in, “Nanami you wouldn’t believe-” 

“I’d hope I don’t look anything like that walking resignation letter.” 

Your eyes widen in disbelief as you turn towards the figure seated beside you, and there he is. Toji.

All signature smirk and twinkling eyes despite the bandages wrapped tightly around his torso.

A gasp leaves as your eyes catch on them, a million thoughts running through your head at once. “Wait, what are you even doing here- You’re hurt, are you even okay- Should we call the ambulance? Those look like-”

“Woah woah, slow down princess. I’m clearly alive, hm? Why, shouldn’t your muse be there to personally pick you up?” he chuckles. “Besides, you killed it out there. That shit was playing was all that every radio was playing for the last hour.”

You can’t help but laugh at his teasing tone, relief flooding through you at the sound of his voice. “Well, you are the exception.” Reaching over and gently cupping his cheek, that small scar was rough against your thumb.

Leaning in, bathed in the soft glow of the city lights, you take in the way his eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiles, the way his hand rests protectively on your thigh.

“Thank you.” you whisper, breath hot against his lips. And though you don’t specify for what - both of you know. Both of you understand. Your lips meet his in a lingering kiss, he tastes of mint and the anticipation of something new and freeing. 

Pulling away slightly, his gaze meets yours with a rare little vulnerability. “Always, princess.” A raw second of silence.

One. Two. Before a smug smirk curls his lips, hand squeezing your thigh. “Now, I remember someone wanting to be eaten out till she cried as a reward?”

You can’t help but roll your eyes, “Oh yeah? Right here, right now?”

“Think we’ll make the front page, princess?”

“I know so.” 

It’s in New York that you meet Toji Fushiguro.

It’s right now, giggling amidst the chaos of flashing cameras and forgotten afterparties, that you think you just might love him.

A/N. Actually frothing at the mouth I want him so bad y’all. Also, reader isn’t Lady Gaga, I just think the song fit.

Reblogs so, so appreciated.

Plagiarism not authorized.

EMERGENCY WRITING COMMS

reblogs are greatly appreciated.

to keep is short: my dad has fucked up one too many times & ruined far too many lives so now i really, really need to move myself & my mom out asap. i'm hoping to move on april 1st or the 5th at the latest.

2k word fics for 10US$

2 characters included

an added character is an extra 5US$

an added 1k words is an extra 5US$

i will do max 3k words with max 1 added character

i'd prefer smut comms bc it's quick & easy, but at this point i will write anything. just no p.edo shit or b.eastiality

any characters, any fandoms, etc.

full payment after you approve my outline

payment via paypal only

unfortunately no refunds if you decide to pull out halfway

i will be asking for an age verification for smut comms

dm if you're interested or email me: samminikolaiwork@gmail.com

60 / 2700 US$ || R1150 / R50 900*

*please check back to the original post to see if help is still needed.

here's my p.aypal if you'd like to just help out.

i also have a k.ofi where i take art comms.

i need at least 2.2k to 2.7k US$ if i really want to get myself & my mom out of this situation. if we have at least 1.8k US$ we're moving.

breakdown of prices & shit below the cut:

unfortunately, a deposit for a new place + the rent, electricity & water bills (that are separate from rent), moving to a new place & trying to survive for a month costs a ton of money. i currently do not have a stable income rn but i do have a job waiting for me in the town i plan to move to as long as i move before april 5th.

the fact that i need to take my cat, dog & my mom's dog with me makes things even harder bc many places aren't pet friendly. & if they are pet friendly, it's often more exspensive.

the place my mom & i are trying to move to is R10 000 per month & requires a 10k deposit. that excludes the electricity & water bills that we also have to pay, which can be up to 2.5k. i'm hoping for us to get at least two months rent + the deposit. so, 30k. honestly, even just one months rent is fine rn.

yes, this is the cheapest place i could find. it's in a safe area, has burglar bars, an enclosed yard, etc. & it allows pets.

along with the move & stuff, we need to buy several necessities bc if we're leaving my dad we can't just take everything, unfortunately.

i'm currently waiting on a quote from a moving company. but i think it'll cost anything from 2k to 5k. let's hope it's 2k. i have no idea what it should cost.

list of things we'll need + their prices:

freezer - 4000

about 8 curtains - 2400

food for our pets to last a while - 1000

litter box + litter - 500 (my cat can now finally be an indoor cat)

misc kitchen stuff - 500

groceries to survive a while - 3000

gas / petrol money - 1500

total - 12 900 (about 680$)

i still need to figure out a way to pay for wifi & our data / phone contracts. but that's a monthly payment thing.

so, here's a general breakdown:

rent for two months - 20 000

deposit - 10 000

elec + water bill - 5000 (2 months)

other things (listed above) - 12 900

estimate of moving company price - 3000

total - 50 900 (about 2700 US$)

R40 900 (about 2150 US$) would also be okay if we can just cover one month's rent. honestly, we can even toss out the freezer (4k) & groceries (3k) & make do w R33 900 (about 1800 US$).

i do have a job waiting for me in the new town if i can move in april + my mom will also do sewing work from home to add to our income. i will also still do comms & such. i might even have to take up a second job but we'll see. thankfully there are several job opportunities in the town.

we also have family in the town we're hoping to move to. so we won't be entirely alone.

𐑺 ˖ ࣪࿐ྂ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄 — 𝒯𝐻𝐸 𝐿𝒪𝒱𝐸 𝒴𝒪𝒰 𝒲𝒜𝒩𝒯

it’s almost rare for the student counsellor to actually give…. counselling. but maybe yuuta’s life will start looking up now that he’s found something to protect.

RETURN TO MASTERLIST | NEXT CHAPTER

summary. university / college au. fem reader. yandere nerd yūta. jock yuuji. aged up characters. manipulation. obsession. bullying. violence. unrequited feelings. gojo is student councillor. a little introduction to jujutsu high. this chapter is from yūta’s perspective. wc, 3.8k.

note. first chapter of the series + it’s just getting us started but i’m really excited about this :) most of moving into my apartment is basically done so i’m so happy to finally be able to put more time back into writing again this weekend, enjoy !!!

“bullies, huh? this is unusual.” the pocky between gojo’s teeth crunches as he speaks, swinging the half finished, pink stick around in the air as his long legs stretch over his desk. “you rarely come to me for advice, okkotsu yuuta.”

he’s out of options, yuuta knows that — but still he came here, to the student counsellor, even though he knows he can’t get involved, he can’t help him. it’s made even worse by the fact that they’re apparently related in some twisted, confusing way that he doesn’t care too much about to pry more into. but has he really got anybody else to turn to at this point? he’ll take any advice he can get right now, no matter how useless.

“have you.. ever been bullied?” yuuta’s voice is quiet as he speaks, pulling nervously at the already stretched sleeves of his sweater. it’s a little more oversized than it’s intended to be — probably to do with him fidgeting with the fabric, it was a bad habit. the neckline hangs loose around his collarbones, sleeves covering his hands slightly as he rests at the other side of gojo’s desk.

they pick on that too, the way he dresses — the way he looks. they pick on everything. he’s brought back from his thoughts by gojo snorting at his question, like he’s just told him a joke instead of confided in him.. like it’s not his job to comfort him.

“pffff— course not. i’m too strong and handsome for that.” another crunch from the pocky inbetween the snowy haired counsellors fingers and yuuta feels his eye twitch.

“i thought you were supposed to make me feel better—“ he really was a lousy counsellor. isn’t his job to make students feel better? he’s flippant and doesn’t seem like a teacher but there’s slight moments, where you can see that he cherishes watching after the students, guiding them to be their best despite the way all of this really serves as his own form of entertainment.

but right now, yuuta’s still waiting for that part of him to show.

gojo snorts as he shakes the now empty pocky box in his hand, sighing dramatically when he realises he’s just swallowed the last pink coated stick before he’s pushing himself forward with a pout on his lips. his elbows rest on the desk as his huge figure looms closer, looking over his dark rimmed frames at yuuta before he hums his next words. “but, the problem is your mindset.”

another sigh and the student councillor lazily throws the empty snack packet into the bin on the other side of the room, still managing to make it into the small tin can with frightening accuracy despite the lazy throw. but he looks smug as his long arms stretch to cross behind his head, ruffling the snowy peaks of his hair slightly. “you can’t imagine a stronger future version of yourself. you think this’ll be your fate forever, right?”

the statement makes yuuta shift on his seat, swallowing as his gaze remains on his teacher. he’s gotten his attention now, he can hear his chair squeak as he moves and the tone of his voice is more serious now than the usual playful, aloof air his words normally carry.

“ah, well. it’s not too late for you to change that. maybe find something to protect, hm?” gojo hums the words like the answer is obvious, like this is what he should’ve done all along. the grin on his lips looks accomplished, almost all-knowing and it makes yuuta gape at him slightly as he tries to decipher what that even means.

“but.. what about the—“ he begins, to get a little more— something to help him.. because what does he mean something to protect? like a bodyguard? or… or does he mean something more valuable? but his words are cut off when the looming figure of his councillor pushes himself to stand.

“oh well! don’t you think that was a good session, okkotsu~?” gojo stretches as he speaks, singing his words as he returns to his usual demeanour and yuuta looks as confused as he feels as he stares up at him, wide eyed— like he’s just been beaten by a common enemy when he was only a step away from the final boss.

“w-wait, i—“ his words try to come out all at once as he hurries to stand, almost fumbling slightly with his backpack while he tries to keep his councillors attention. he wasn’t done yet, he still had so much to ask, so much to talk about, he—

“don’t mind, i’ve got faith in you, yuuta. just.. don’t let it get to you, yeah?” gojo’s hand is warm when it rests on yuuta’s shoulder but the force of it is surprising when he’s ushering him towards the door. the expression on his face is annoyingly bright compared to the gloom that coats yuuta, like an aura that’s wrapped around him— his very own personal rain cloud and he feels like he’s suddenly forgotten his umbrella.

“but—“ he tries again but he stumbles with his next step, almost dropping his papers for his next class.

“ahhh~ looks like it’s about my lunch break, sorry about that. remember what i said, hm? give it your best, make sure you get along with everyone.” gojo gives him another grin as he claps his hands together, singing his words like it’s meant as his own little insufferable, motivational cheer.

“ah— but i.. i wasnt….“ yuuta doesn’t manage to finish the remainder of his sentence as the door closes, the latter of his words drifting into nothing more than a unintelligible whisper as his hands fall by his sides “… done.” he sighs as he brushes back his hair from his face, shoulders slumping as his already messed up belongings scatter along the hallway at his feet.

as if the day could get any worse.

but still, he can’t help but continue thinking about gojo’s words despite how little help they serve him right now. he’s still unsure what he meant by that, should he be looking for something? is this supposed to be a game or some weird scavenger hunt… hes never really had much trust in the snowy haired teacher to begin with, but still….

yuuta sighs as he drops to his knees to pick up the pages that have scattered from his notebook, it was already messed up anyway — from his previous run in with the older students who have been picking on him since the year started. the writing is almost faded completely from being flushed, pages crisping and curling as they dry, stuffing it into his bag won’t make much of a difference when it’s already ruined.

but he still manages to push himself to stand as the bell rings.

the walk back to class is as somber as ever, he’s late, albeit not by any fault of his own, but if anything— he’s glad that the hallways are clear and he’s left to mind his own business this time. he wishes he could spend the rest of the school year like this, unbothered… in silence…. left alone. is it really okay for someone like him to even go to school? all he seems to do is cause trouble for others, would anyone notice if he stopped coming?

“okkotsu yuuta, you’re here.” the way the teacher draws out yuuta’s name is sympathetic, pitiful as he knocks politely on the classroom door and she takes in his appearance. he’s disheveled, notes sticking out of his bag in a mess of dyed paper and she’d scold any other student— but not him. not when she looks at him like he’s got enough on his plate already. there’s nothing wrong with him, he was simply a loner, he didn’t need people’s sympathy for that.

but still it’s humiliating, the walk to his desk— third row from the back and his backpack is loud as it hits the floor, followed by the squeak of his seat as he drops into it with an awkward sorry that earns him a few sharp looks from the seats infront. he really wants this day to be over, this class, this week.

yuuta fumbles with his glasses as he takes them out of their case, trying to move quietly albeit clumsily by nature as he quickly tries to keep up with the notes. the teacher nor the class were going to wait for him to stop feeling sorry for himself, so he throws himself into his work— like he always does. it’s why he’s the top student afterall, not that that did anything for his already shaky reputation amongst everyone else. a loner and a nerd…. great.

“psst..” the low sound goes unheard as he scribbles onto the soaked paper of his notepad, pushing back his mused bangs again as focuses on his work. there’s barely ten minutes of class left and he has to make up for the rest he just missed, he could stay during lunch maybe… it’s not like he has plans, he normally ate alone so he should be able to—

“pssst, hey! do you want to borrow my notes?” the call is louder this time but still hushed and despite the day he’s had, yuuta would still recognise your voice anywhere— he’d recognise you anywhere.

you were his classmate.

you’re pretty, really pretty— like the sun, all bright smiles and kindness but you’re well liked, loved really. you’re the girl in the corridor that will always get a wave or a grin from anyone passing by, teacher or student, you’ll stop to chat about people’s day, you know everyone by name— that’s just who you are. you’re popular, friendly, sociable.. you’re everything yuuta isn’t, but you still notice to him, albeit the words exchanged are short and nothing too in-depth but he’s began to savour those fleeting interactions,

and to say he had acquired a crush on you would be… an understatement. it was unavoidable afterall, innocent infatuation was all it was, but you were.. you. you practically have everyone falling at your feet already, he’s no exception.

“o-oh… uh, no it’s fine. i can read these.” his voice cracks when he lets his face lift to meet your gaze and he feels his cheeks burn when you hold him there, smiling at him with such a familiarity that he almost feels his lungs tremble on his next inhale as he suddenly looks away shyly.

yuuta swallows loudly as he tries to busy himself with something else, pulling at the already stretched sleeves of his oversized sweater, sifting through his notes on his desk. you’re still turned round in your seat, fourth from the back and immediately infront of him and he can feel you looking at him.

“but they’re all faded, wait— i have mine right here, you can just give me them back tomorrow or whenever you’re done.” you were so kind, your voice is bright when you speak again, you don’t shy away from interacting with him despite his awkward demeanour, his social skills may be lacking but you still speak to him like you’ve known him for years despite the way you only share a few classes, different majors. you must’ve noticed his notes when he walked into the room, you were considerate like that… observant, you were perfect.

“ah— really, its.. it’s fine.” yuuta still can’t look at you, not without feeling like his heart is going to break out of his ribs and crawl it’s way to you.

“come on, i insist, okkotsu. here you go, they’re right here.” the way you say his name makes his chest squeeze and his cheeks burn. his eyes flutter up to you slightly as you reach forward to grab something from your desk before sliding it onto his, letting him see the class notes that he’s been struggling to catch up on due to his….. meeting with the councillor earlier.

“t-thanks… um, i’ll give them back to you later. it won’t take me long, i can copy them over lunch.” yuuta’s fingertips curl against the paper as he takes it from you, pulling it closer as his drowsy gaze scans the pages— it’s like your handing him a part of yourself.

“no rush, it’s fine!” you giggle as you respond to him and he’s always liked the sound of your laugh, it’s different to his— it’s bright and pretty, it’s beautiful.. it suits you. he pushes his glasses up his nose as he gives you another look, something close to a smile twitches at the corner of his flushed cheeks whenever his eyes lift to meet yours. so instead he chooses to focus on the paper infront of him as he tries to quell his increasing heart rate.. and it does, for a moment.

your writing is really pretty, yuuta doesn’t wonder if you’re watching him now, he’s too transfixed with tracing his finger over the raised paper, following the lines drawn by your hands as he feels something warm and bloom in his chest. you’ve used a bright coloured pen, doodled cutely at the corners, curled your words prettily— it’s exactly how he expected your handwriting to look.

“hm?” you hum curiously and your lashes flutter with your next blink as you look at him kindly.

“ah.. nothing, sorry.. just, thank you.” he hadn’t meant to even speak it at all, so the realisation that he’d said it out loud— infront of you of all people, makes him flush even brighter. yuuta’s cheeks have probably taken a noticeably red tone and if you notice, you don’t say anything— not wanting to point out his discomfort or embarrass him further as he lets his head hang lower in the hopes of hiding it. you were just kind like that. it’s not fair, how was he supposed to not fall in love with you?

love…. was that really what this was?

you offer him a no problem and another smile before you turn back around in your seat again. but he already misses having your attention on him as he fidgets slightly with your notes on his desk.

yuuta’s not sure what takes over him, hes probably still blushing— reeling from your interaction and the fact that you gave him your notes but he decides to try it for himself, to lean forward in your desk and talk to you a little more. there’s still so much more to talk about, to learn from you, even if you could just look at him again. just once.

“um, hey..” his voice still sounds quietly despite the way he’s hyping himself up in his mind, his words have always had a sort of gentle, kind tone compared to his other classmates. the characteristic only seeming to aid him being drowned out in discussions or class conversations until he opts to stop speaking entirely. so you don’t hear him and he finds himself looking around the class to make sure nobody notices before he tries again.

“hey.” yuuta leans closer this time, over his desk as he tries not to draw any unwanted attention to himself. but still— you’re scribbling away in your notebook, half-listening to whatever your desk mate is telling you about and still not noticing him as he breathes out a long, sort of humiliated sigh.

but his next attempt is successful, albeit hard to ignore when he chooses to tap hesitantly on your shoulder before flinching away when you turn to face him. he’s suddenly warm again, but you’re smiling before he can even say anything and suddenly he’s not as confident as he was a second ago.

“sorry, uh— did you finish the homework assignment? i heard you talking with sensei yesterday, that you were having trouble..” yuuta’s learned a lot from your conversations with your friends and teachers, you speak a little loudly afterall. it’s not that he’s listening it’s just.. that he happens to be there, in the corridor or just passing by the open class door. he once read that to be loved is to be known, right? and you’re friends, kinda, even though he may be crushing on you or kinda in love with you but… it’s normal for him to want to know your favourite food and your preferred route to commute home, your favourite breakfast food, your ideal date… that’s what anyone would do for something they like, isn’t it?

his eyes widen as he realises how you might’ve taken what he said, he doesn’t want to lose you, not when you’re finally making progress. “but i—i wasn’t meaning to eavesdrop or anything, i just—“

you don’t comment on yuuta’s fumble, he wonders if you even noticed it when you reply light heartedly, “ah, you heard that? it’s kinda embarrassing but yeah, i just couldn’t figure out one of the questions. have you completed yours?” your elbow rests on his desk as you turn, propping your head up to blink at him and you feel so close he wonders if you’d flinch away if he reached out to touch you.

“yeah.. i— uh, finished mine already.” truth be told, he finished it the day he received it, this was his thing, it was all he had. the homework was easy, although he finds it adorable that you tend to struggle with things like this.. one of your quirks that he’s picked up on… it makes him think as his eyes widen slightly with a dull realisation.

“you’re always so on time, i wish i had your motivation it’s so impressive, okkotsu.” you’re smiling at him again, at him as you lean back in your seat and the look alone almost gives yuuta the confidence he needs to speak his sudden idea into existence as he tries to sit up straighter.

“if…. um,” he begins as he scratches at the back of his neck and you hang onto his words, really listening to him like he has you caught up in a story that you’re so eager to hear the end of, “if you need help, if.. if you want.. i can h-help y—“

“babe!” yuuta’s sentence is drowned out by the sudden call from the doorway to the classroom as it swings open loudly, making you and half of the class jolt in their seats as you whip around to face the source of the sound. it’s followed by a peek of pink, messy hair as itadori leans himself into view, commanding all of the attention in the room despite the way he’s only looking at you with a bright grin.

“i’ll get you here, okay? i got outta practice early!” his hand points to just outside the classroom as he rests his body weight in the doorway. his hair is damp slightly, most likely from a shower in the training room and his team varsity hugs him cozily as he makes himself comfortable staring in at you. it’s almost like he forgets where he is completely until the teacher’s bark from the front of the class brings him back.

“itadori yuuji, get out. you’re not part of this class.”

“sorry, sensei! my bad!” itadori’s reply earns him a few chuckles from your classmates as he raises his arms up to apologise, but it earns him an eye roll from yuuta as he watches him bow before enthusiastically closing the door again.. after giving you another bright smile ofcourse.

itadori yuuji, is captain of the jujutsu sorcerers football team, a sports scholarship student and unfortunately.. your boyfriend. he is charming, he’ll give him that much, he’s handsome too, funny— depending on who you ask but before all that, he’s .. stupid and yuuta hates that about him.

you deserve someone better than that, someone who will take care of you, make a home for you— all your boyfriend has going for him is his muscled frame, insane strength, good connections… but his grades are bad, horrible. that’s why he relies on you to help him study, to make sure he doesn’t get kicked off the team and lose his spot as captain. it’s not fair that he puts so much pressure on you but you just laugh like it’s no big deal, offering him help like he’s not just using you.

sure, he’s never been particularly unkind to him personally.. or anyone at all, but isn’t stealing his love enough to justify his feelings towards him?

what’s even more annoying is you apologise for your boyfriend when the teacher raises an eyebrow in your direction. when you shouldn’t be apologising, itadori’s an idiot but you’re smiling and yuuta hates that. it’s different to the ones you give him, it’s toothier and brighter — like it’s dripping with affection, love, and suddenly you’re desperate to get out of class, to steal another look at your dumb oaf of a boyfriend who’s laugh you can still hear through the door as he jokes with the vice captain, todo. he’s taken your attention from him, stolen it so selfishly.

people always refer to you both as the ‘it couple’ on campus— he hears the whispers, the way people fawn over you both, saying how cute you are, how it’s like something out of a romance manga whenever they see you. you attend all of his games— wearing his jersey, he walks you to class, waits for you after school. don’t you find him annoying? he’s always there, always with you, always holding you—kissing you… don’t you think that’s unfair? what about everyone else, what about him?

you don’t even turn back around to let yuuta finish his question after he was interrupted and the bell rings before he can touch you again to continue it, you’re in such a rush to see itadori that even when you call back a quick see ya, okkotsu! you don’t even stick around to hear him reply as his “y-yeah, see you.” goes lost in the air like smoke.

you barely even look at yuuta as he begins to sort through your notes on his desk, handling them like they’re made of glass— fragile beneath his touch and he wonders if you feel as soft, he wishes he could’ve felt your skin when he reached for you earlier. he doesn’t think it’s fair at all that his crush seems to have one of her own, like he’s the second love interest but not the male lead that gets the girl in the shoujo and he hates it. he hates him.

but somehow, when he goes to slot the paper carefully between the pages of his notepad— his dark gaze is drawn to the curl of your name, the way it’s signed with a scribbled love heart and he finds his fingertips reaching to trace along the pretty letters once more. yuuta’s not sure what prompts it, but suddenly he feels like he’s back in that office again, shifting uncomfortably on his chair at the other side of the counsellors desk as his words echo.

something to protect, right? what’s that if not something to own, something that’s his.

yuuta thinks he may have found that already.

© gojoath. do not copy, repost, modify or translate my works. please refrain from copying my layouts / themes.

Title: An Ordinary Girl Obsessed Over By a Downer Deity

creators: umekoppe

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-> read free here

Summary: The protagonist has just found a new job, and will be leaving her prefecture in Spring to start. She heads to the rundown shrine near her to speak of the news, but finds a mysterious, weak-looking man passed out. She decides to nurse him back to health until spring... The otherworldly man finally comes to get some life in him, but his attachment to her grows to an unhealthy level. "I want to be with you forever." Before the protagonist realizes it, she has reached the point of no return.

‼️ Content Warnings: noncon / manipulation / yandere male lead / age gap / interspecies / creampie / knotting