HI, welcome to my page! I love writing on here as my main platform and I enjoy all comments and support under my works, it gives me the boost I need to keep going!
MASTERLIST
JJK
Yandere Blabs #1
ATSV
Yandere Spider-Blabs #1
AOT
Yandere Sasageyo Blabs #1
ANSWERED ASKS
JJK
Yandere Asks #1
Yandere Asks #2
ASTV
Yandere Spider-Asks #1
AOT
Yandere Sasageyo Asks #1
MISCELLANEOUS
About Yandere Content Out There.
Lmao
Never thought this would happen
RULES
What I do write:
Yandere(obviously)
fem reader
gender neutral reader
sfw/nsfw
fluff
anything regular that's not Yandere
bdsm
What I don't write:
Gore
incest/pseudo incest
rape
trans reader or male reader(i don't think I know enough about how it would physically work, in terms of smut)
infantilism
starving/overfeeding
drug usage
Cheating
Part 2's
I hope you enjoy going through my stuff. There is one post I want to put on the masterlist that I literally can't find at all. But nonetheless, this is all of my work so far. I will continue adding works on here as I post more often. It's about time. I want to expand the things I write, but for now, it's just this.
traps fairy!reader in a jar... now you're his greatest obsession.
𝓒𝐰. nerdjo · yandere themes · experimentation ( not on reader ) · creepy satoru · oddly fluffy · stockholm syndrome · worship · slight idolisation · satoru's so whipped it's kinda cute
𔘓 · yandere researcher!nerdjo loved picking apart magical beings. figuring out how they work. how he could use their supernatural capabilities in alchemy and artifice trades alike. he's got magical body parts stuffed in jars and rowed on his shelves. from unicorn horns to vampire teeth, dragon eyes and goblin hands. but above all, he's been awed by the mythical, elusive fairy. he's got an entire taxidermy wall of butterfly wings in dedication to them.
𔘓 · yandere researcher!nerdjo has been obsessed with fairies from a young age. from fairytales to frightening fascination, he's now driven himself mad trying to capture one. he'd honed all of his skills, yet still couldn't get his hands on one… until you came along.
𔘓 · yandere researcher!nerdjo knew that he needed to have you the second he saw you. prancing around the flowers in his garden, pretty and as peaceful as you could be. you even gave him a little smile from your hiding spot. he pretended not to see you, even as his chest fluttered. but in his eyes? you were perfect.
𔘓 · yandere researcher!nerdjo was surprised that the sweet treat on a mushroom top trick worked.
"well, aren't you the prettiest little thing?" he cooed on that fateful day he trapped your wing under his thumb. while you squirmed in the thick blades of grass.
his sharp grin loomed above you. watching you over the rim of his copper-framed glasses. and within his eyes, you saw something that terrified you.
hearts.
𔘓 · yandere researcher!nerdjo perfectly prepared your jar. he cushioned the bottom with soil and moss. a slab of bark laid on side, with a network of flourishing, pink mushrooms growing along its length. a polished pebble for you to perch on, right beside the singular, blooming daisy where you could sleep. he wasn't a monster, after all…
𔘓 · yandere researcher!nerdjo watched you with fascination as you tapped on the glass helplessly, your wings batting and your tears shimmery. so fairy dust was real.
"please."
your tiny hands smacked into the glass. peering up at the man as he sat at a table and chair. "please, why won't you let me go? I'll do anything."
he had scooped the jar into his hand, levelling you with those terrifying blues. "now, why would I let something so pretty go?" he crooked his head, snowy hair dangling to the side.
"i've waited for you for many years, sweetheart. don't be selfish."
𔘓 · yandere researcher!nerdjo would give you everything you ever needed. food wasn't an issue, every day, he fed you something new. a juicy strawberry. honey and puffballs. mango slices. crackers. one time he even tried to hold you in his palm and feed you a small piece of vanilla cake.
you bit him.
he smiled.
"I suppose even pretty things can be feisty." his grip tightened on you, ever so slightly. a thumb brushing over your wings that fluttered erratically.
"let me go! you monster!" you squeaked.
he tutted, stroking his thumb over your back in a tender path. "sshhh, sweet thing. you'll bruise your little lungs…"
he continued the motion until your wreckless squirming melted. your head limped on his knuckle, your limbs still, and your head droopy.
he chuckled, carefully scooping you back into your jar. "thankfully, I've studied your kind extensively. I know you intimately, sweetheart."
𔘓 · yandere researcher!nerdjo sometimes lets you out of the jar, but only when you have manners. he doesn't have to worry about you flying away, because he always so meticulously ties your wings with a silk ribbon.
"remain still for me, okay?" he hushed at you, kissing your head as you thrashed and shouted at him.
he even tied it into a pretty bow, before he set you atop one of his books.
"why do you do this?" you huffed, balling your little fists as you helplessly tried to flutter your wings. "how can you be so twisted to keep me here?"
satoru always spoke to you as if you were a flower. even lowering his head to be at eye level with you. lashes fluttering, almost droopy in the presence of your beauty.
"am I so twisted for being in love with you?"
the way your eyes gaped at him made him smile. he brought his pinkie to gently poke at your head. "what? am I?"
"you're insane…" your murmur sounded frightened. fear looked pretty on you, too.
"maybe," his voice lowered to a whisper. "or maybe I'm just very dedicated to my work."
𔘓 · yandere researcher!nerdjo made little tools out of silver to help fix your hair. he'd do the usual routine of scooping you out of the jar, tying your wings and sitting you on his palm, before he set to work on carefully helping you.
"I made these for you." he'd say affectionately.
and when you didn't respond, he blow a bit of air onto your wings until you squirmed and giggled.
𔘓 · yandere researcher!nerdjo makes sure to let you have a little soak in one of his favourite teacups with some warm water. no, he doesn't peep at you. he's not a creep. a pretty little lady like yourself needs her privacy, after all.
𔘓 · yandere researcher!nerdjo sometimes takes you out to dance you around the windowsill when the moon shines just right. he lets you hold onto his pinkies. twirls and dips you all night long. treating you as delicate as a flower as he watches you with awestruck eyes.
𔘓 · yandere researcher!nerdjo brings you bundles of flowers to drink nectar from. he'll nudge your chin up so gently with his index nail and feed you himself. makes sure you don't choke.
𔘓 · yandere researcher!nerdjo wraps you up in his glasses cloth when it gets too cold, or sometimes even scoops you into his pocket where you can nap to the sound of his heartbeat.
𔘓 · yandere researcher!nerdjo despite being so gentle, would remind you what kind of man he was. not all of the times he plucked you from the jar were for your benefit.
at times, he'd tie your wings a little tighter. laying you out on a leather-bound notebook and analysing you piece by piece.
"fascinating," he mumbled, prodding at your arm with a flat, wooden stick. applying pressure. testing. "your limbs are stronger than they look. is it your magic, I wonder?"
he spoke about wanting to take you apart. bit by bit, to understand you better. when you gave him a horrified look, he chuckled, cocking his head as he tickled your wings.
"what, sweetheart? wouldn't it be intimate?"
𔘓 · yandere researcher!nerdjo wouldn't ever hurt you. he didn't think he had it in him. you were too soft, too elegant, too pretty. it broke his heart whenever he'd see you weeping in your jar.
"don't cry… please don't cry," he'd whisper as he laid his head beside the jar. watching you with sullen blue eyes.
you'd cry for him to let you go, and it ached a deep part of him.
"I can't. I'm sorry, sweet thing." his lips brushed the glass, a sincere apology from a man so sadistic. "I need you." came his shaky breath.
"I need you here. with me. I'm just so lonely. please don't hate me."
𔘓 · yandere researcher!nerdjo saw you staring at the wall of wings while he worked, once. silent and wide eyed.
he sorely misinterpreted you, tilting his head with a crooked smile. "do you like any of them?"
scooping you out of the jar, he cradled you in his palm. "I could make you a dress… would you like that?"
your look of horror bewildered him, and when tears streamed down your face, he rushed to soothe you. brushing away your tears with a petal plucked from a flower on his desk.
when you told him why you wept— because you thought the wings were your fallen brethren, his face twisted. almost disgusted that you could compare your pristine, perfect wings to those baneful butterflies. still, his shoulder shook with a little laugh. he found it morbidly amusing.
"oh, my sweetheart. of course not," he cooed at you. "those are butterflies. you are the only fairy I've had in my grasp."
pale lips brushed your little head, ever delicate. as he whispered. soft, lovingly.
"that's why you're so special to me."
you didn't look too convinced. your small sniffles broke his heart, so he sighed as he gently nudged you over. till you were slumped over his thumb and forefinger.
"sweetheart, please don't insult yourself so," he lightly scolded. "butterfly wings are so brittle. so dull. but yours…"
his other index slowly, tenderly brushed down your spine. tracing your wings in that same gentle, sick fascination he always had.
"yours are pristine. delicate… perfect."
his shaky breath tickled your wings, and they twitched. his throat ran dry. heart hammering a bit faster at this little, intimate moment.
with a gentle squeeze to you, he leaned down. pressing a slow, velvet kiss to your wings. smiling into them as they fluttered and you pitched a whine.
"see?" satoru breathed, lips brushing over their little twitches. his smile was soft, sick.
"these are all mine. my special little sweetheart."
PART TWO
note Soooooo, I have not been writing in forever. But I rewrote this today, and I will come back with more original stories!!!
warning mature, smut, caregiver kink (not ddlg), manipulation, masturbation, dependency. 3.8k
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You felt reluctant to give in to the soft ministrations of your lover; however, your will is so, so, so weak. You hadn’t even tried to put up a fight this morning. Geto Suguru had once again brought you breakfast in bed; his soft-spoken words nicked at your ears as he came in close. He whispered how perfect and pretty you are as he brought spoons full of rice porridge to your lips, and then his. You hummed with content at the sweet apple taste, doused in honey and cinnamon. If you grabbed at the spoon, his hands would be quicker in swatting you away.
It was no use fighting him; you wouldn’t want to ruin the mood over something so small.
After breakfast, Suguru took it upon himself to gather the dishes on a simple serving tray. As you stood, he commanded you to stay put with a rub to your perky ass. He slanted his lips over yours for just a moment. “I have big plans for you today. Let me dress you after I wash the dishes, hmmm.”
His husky hum tickled your lips, eliciting a giddy squeal from the back of your throat.
Suguru scurried off and returned before you got too bored.
He brought out a modest outfit, laying the fabrics onto the foot of the bed. The pastel lilac sweater was to protect your frail skin from the forecasted winds. Then there was the beautiful high-waisted cream-colored skirt made of a thick, yet flowing material, with deep brown buttons decorating the left side of your hip. These were something you hadn’t previously owned. Suguru must have spent more money; you frowned.
You need to knock some sense into him.
He should be conserving his money, not constantly spoiling you.
You felt bad because you could never give Suguru all the things he has given you.
However, you looked cute in the outfit—like a flower bloomed in the most sterile of environments—that you held your tongue against your shame. Plus, today marked four years together, and the last thing you wanted to start was an argument over a simple gift.
In the stark white bathroom, your eyes flicked from the mirror to Suguru, who knelt before you, pushing sheer tights under your long skirt. He kissed and bit at your plump thighs, alternating from left to right. You purred as his nose brushed that sensitive bud that quivers each time you gaze at his muscular back or his veiny forearms, pushing your legs wider.
You rocked along his tongue that darted out like a cat taking sips of water. Slow and rapid over your panties, which dampen at each swipe. You mewled, and forgot why you ever frowned.
Geto brought you to the crest of a small orgasm. Your stomach clenched as your nerves shot out in a haywired effort to expel your juices… all over his face, rendering your boyfriend as nothing more than a servant to your pleasures.
Your stamina was surely shot from last night.
Now, cleaned and settled on the couch, Suguru combed through your hair that he tended to more like a gardener would a precious fruit he wished to harvest, than you ever took care of it. Once he styled it to his liking, Suguru brought his body down on yours. He massaged your throat with his thumb, digging the pads of his fingers into your pressure points until you gasped, lightheaded.
The lilt in your voice wasn’t lost to either of you. “I love you.”
Suguru's hips snapped against yours, his eyes warred with the lust trying to cloud his vision. His other hand pushed underneath your hips, circling the waistband of your skirt. “Poor duck… I worked you all up. I should take care of y’a, right?”
His lips fretted along your neck, dancing across hickeys, as he succumbed to the living fantasy of the final morning hours being lost within your pussy. He salivated over how tight you would grip onto his cock, spasming and milking his balls dry of cum. Suguru would fuck a baby in you soon, no doubt.
You nodded vigorously. “Yes. Please, Su…” You rasped. Your left hand squeezed at your breast, nipples aching for Suguru’s mouth to encompass them, while your right hand ventured to the bulge of his dick. You massaged through his dark slacks, unzipping his mighty girth so that you could be taken lovingly into the cushions.
“Say you’ll move in with me.” Suguru had the wherewithal to slip your tights down to your knees without ripping the thin fabric.
He sat up, gaze entranced upon your pussy. He needn’t have to prep your sopping hole, which opened greedily over the head of his cock, sucking him in deeper and deeper. Tingles flew in the air between where your two bodies melded into one. His balls smacked against your butt.
Suguru moved slowly, almost languid, despite the fervent nature that ended them in this position, as he awaited your response.
You rolled your eyes. “Can we not do this now? I want you…”
This has been an ongoing issue. Suguru wanted you to relent to his demands: live with him, quit your job, etc. Essentially, every aspect of your life that you built in the city—away from your hometown in rural Japan where women could only be mothers and wives—he wanted to strip from you. If he could do it all for you, he would.
The concept was sweet at times.
Like a fantastical prince choosing a common woman to wed and make his queen.
Yet, there’s a dark side to Suguru that he keeps locked away from your eyes.
Yet, you weren’t totally ignorant to its presence.
You knew that becoming his, whatever that definition is, would mean losing so much.
—
Geto thought of you as a little feather duckling. You weren’t capable of taking care of yourself. You waddled through life with your head held high. Without trying, you butt heads with him, unaware of how dark his thoughts traveled each time you told him no. This morning on the couch, he thought of snapping your legs as you evaded the topic.
Why didn’t you want to move in with him?
He hadn’t asked, or pushed. He just ground into your pussy with unrelenting haste. He poured his anger into each snap of his hips that he possibly bruised your cervix by the way you limped now. Your attention floated from shop to shop as Geto led you to a bakery, hands gripping onto each other. His indignation had simmered and snuffed just as quickly as he admired your ability to get enamored by shiny trinkets locked behind storefronts.
Geto asked at intervals if that—whatever caught your attention—would be something you wanted. He assured that he could buy it for you. “Today is a special day, duck. Let me buy it for you. I can afford it.”
With a smile, you rejected. “I’m grateful for the outfit, Su. I don’t need those things.”
Baked bread, fresh out of the oven, wafted in the air. The Parisian-style bakery had a line pushed out the door, which you two fell in the back of the line. You proceeded to talk Geto’s ear off about the different techniques of pastry baking, particularly the difference between brioche and traditional bread baking. Why you would know any of that information was beyond him. You were a horrible baker; measurements were not a rule in your kitchen.
You tended to fill your head with meaningless factoids.
Geto found it to be an endearing feature as opposed to an insufferable one.
He had your M.O figured. You were at surface level, either dense or purposely stupid about the world around you, staying blissful as if nothing evil could ever befall you. You were hard-working and painfully stubborn to a fault without being truly argumentative. You could find humanity in depraved places. Including, but not limited to… him.
Under a cloudless sky, six years ago, Geto sat in a rice field across the street from a star-lit bus stop. He nursed a bottle of soju while taking drags of a lit cigarette perched between his moist lips. In this moment, he understood Shoko’s habits a bit more. The burn distracted him. The disgusting smell kept his senses in the present moment. He wanted to go wild. Break loose and set the world on fire. This cigarette was his last-ditch effort to control the bloodlust.
The soju, on the other hand, heightened it up a notch, so he discarded the remnants on the dirt road near his toes. He disposed of his parents. Geto dismembered their corpse. He first took off their hands. Then their feet. He took his mother’s legs from the hip joints, while he got his father at the knees. The rest was a blur. All he knows is that their pieces are scattered across the small village in which he camped.
Geto could barely keep his lips from an upturned smirk.
He was ever closer to his ideals. A world built for the sorcerers.
You should have never caught his attention.
A rickety bus hobbled to the marked stop. Its doors opened, and you walked off it. That hair of yours smacked against the indigo backdrop. Geto's legs seized at the unadulterated glow of your smile, which seemed too big for your body. You yapped goodwill onto the driver. Bowing deeper than necessary. Your mouth never did still as words of thankfulness gushed like a river. You hopped in place, and both your feet never landed in tandem.
Geto regarded the interaction.
Minutes dragged into each other as if time bends to your will.
You wore a student’s uniform. Considering the time, Geto assumed you were back from cram school. Bookbag clung to your shoulder. You bowed yet again, and with a wave, the driver set into motion. Then, you had made your way to him.
What a setting for a romance.
A parent murder after the act gets the naive girl.
Geto still remembered your unnecessary fretting. You paced the road before him, throwing out rapid-fire questions. All of which pertained to gathering information on his identity because, as you stated, “I know everyone in this town.” You glared at the ground, wondering aloud if he somehow had amnesia that led him to such a nowhere-type town. “Do you even have a place to stay? Of course, being a drunkard is one thing… Oh! Maybe I should call the local police; Omawari-san will see you home… if you have one?”
On your dumb tangent, you equated Geto to a bumbling fool. Which he took offense to more than the homeless statement, that he immediately corrected: “I’m not drunk. One bottle doesn’t do that, twerp. Nor do I drink regularly.”
You eyed the soju, “Right…”
Your tone was tinged with sarcasm.
Geto scoffed, "You’re working yourself over nothin'. Take a hit. Relax, sweetheart." He offered up the cigarette on its last few drags.
You pouted, fingers pushing his hand away.
"Ew… No, you can keep your poisoned air… And, it isn't just nothin'! You're on the side of the road, close to throwin' yourself in the fields for the vultures to pick at your drunk body. Dead. Drunk. Body.”
“Quite morbid,” Geto scowled with a tilt of his head.
At your core, you were weaker than a monkey.
A fragile duck who squawked like a self-deserving goose.
You continued, “Whatever has you hating the world is your problem, sure. Yet, as a moral citizen, I must take it upon myself to ensure you get home."
You had failed to see him as a threat or as a man. He couldn't get you out of his head even after you dropped him off at the rundown motel that only had visitors about twice a year. He wanted to drag you inside his room, yet he watched your skirt swish as you walked away.
Pure curiosity turned into an intangible obsession.
Humanity could rot for all Geto cared. He would see to it. However, the thought of you, his precious duckling, smeared by the monkey's malice, set his cells on fire.
You stood the fairest in a world riddled with cruelty. The indigo backdrop, a canvas, created for your beauty alone. Geto never saw rice fields the same again.
Geto had given you enough freedom.
It was about time that he took hold of your leash, pulled taut and fast, until you were behind the walls of his gilded cage. The one in which he would pile in riches only for you to enjoy. You deserved to be pampered in the new world order he planned to cultivate through some unsavory actions. Yet, he will blind you to it all—so that you may only see him as the valiant prince who swept you off your feet.
The world, this city which you came to love so dearly, is riddled with curses born from the inherent and evil will of being beneath you and him—monkeys better dead than alive. You don’t know that. And Geto would be damned if his dreams weren't realized.
Therefore, he needed you to depend on him.
To not question what is happening in the outside world.
"Suguuu… Are you even paying attention? What do you want?" You gripped his chin until his eyes snapped to yours. Geto didn’t realize that you two reached the front counters. With his attention, you disengaged your playful grasp, motioning at all the baked goods. You donned a mocking tone, "Since you’re not paying attention… I guess I'll have to buy my favorite treat."
"Buy?" Geto gave a slight humorous sneer. "You sure know how to piss me off. I got you, don't I?" He pulled your hips into his, "Y'a know I pay. Always"
He had given you enough freedom. Truly.
—
You couldn't believe your luck today. You had slept past your alarm. Cuddled in the overheated mass of your blankets instead of the embrace of your lover, who slept with his back turned to you. When you peeled your eyes open, the alarm clock read 8:45 am, and your heart sunk deep to the pit of your stomach. You had work at nine and you a ten minute train ride to catch. No matter how you sliced it, you would be super late.
Throwing yourself out of bed, you felt unease. Your doting lover, Suguru, sat back in bed and observed. His pointed stare traced your face, nonjudgmental as if he expected you to figure out your mistake. You fought the urge to cry and throw a fit.
He didn’t wake you up?!
Instead of screaming or pouncing on his stupid body where you would lay fists in an assault, you silently scurried to the bathroom where you could brush your teeth and gather clothes from the closet. As if engraved in your bones, you wanted Suguru to carry you on his shoulder, from room to room as he powered through your routine, and not you.
Your nerves worsened as you dragged your shaking arms in a blouse.
The fact that he didn't reprimand you for getting dressed without him made you insecure.
Was he mad at you? What did you do? Was he not in love with you anymore?
It was his digression, after all, to be overbearingly entwined with everything concerning you. He decided what you wore and what you ate for breakfast, while you half-heartedly nagged and snatched at things to do yourself, but Suguru’s actions were swift, sometimes jarring you into utter compliance. You hated that you loved it. That was the routine!
And you were so desperate for it now.
It had been a month since your anniversary. Suguru assured you at first that work kept him away more days than not. He rarely had a night off like yesterday to cuddle in your bed, and even then, his back met your front in the middle of the night. He didn’t let you spoon him. You felt like you slept alone even with him there.
He didn’t even worship your body.
Or got hard in your hands, as you tried licking your way to his v-line.
Suguru pushed you away, heading to the bathroom where he locked himself in. The spray of the shower rained down. When he came back out, he did not relieve your hormones. He was lost in his head as he prepared both of you for bed. It broke your heart. You were surprised that you didn’t burst into tears.
After smoothing down flyaways, you re-entered the bedroom. Your boyfriend’s massive frame turned away from you. "Sugu. Baby," You called with worry encasing each syllable. "I'm heading off to work. I should be home around five… I love you."
No response.
“Let’s talk when I get home… Please?”
Silence.
You brought in a sulking breath. You tried to gather yourself, exiting the room. Instead, you tripped all over yourself. You whispered sweet nothings that everything will be fine. But you knew it wasn’t. Your four-year relationship is crashing around you.
Slipping into some shoes, you didn’t bother to eat, rushing out on an empty stomach. You felt your belly tighten at the idea of fresh rice and an omelette cooked up by your boyfriend. But, what… It’s been a week since he cooked you anything. How were you supposed to know that would be the last time you would enjoy such a habitual thing?
You crashed into the front door, hissing as your fingers buckled with the weight of your purse. A frustrated groan accompanied your head smacking the metal frame. Still, there were no signs of Suguru coming to your aid.
Maybe you weren't made for any of this—being an adult.
This morning proved you were an utter failure without your boyfriend's aid. You shook your head, gathering your last sliver of courage, and left your desolate apartment.
And the series of misfortune continued.
The trains were so overcrowded that you missed two possible trips. You got harassed by some weirdo with blue pigtails outside of work. It was your fault that his coffee fell to the ground due to your clumsiness. And lastly, your boss had sharp words regarding your tardiness.
It wasn't even noon yet.
By lunch, you blanked at the fridge that held everyone's bento boxes but yours. You must've forgotten it. Did you even bring your debit card?
With a sigh, you rushed back to your desk. You ate an onigiri from the local convenience store, fuming over the insults hurled like rocks by unsatisfied customers who picked up your line all morning. Before you could hop back on calls, your superior collected you.
—
Geto tidied your place.
First, he organised your footwear into the shoe cupboard, which you always neglected to restock. Your shoes littered the genkan without his attention to it; he never complained before because he would do it for you whenever he was at your apartment.
You had fallen here.
He wondered which shoe you tripped over.
That silly accident of yours wouldn't have happened under his care. It took all his energy to neglect your pleading cries for help in everything you do. His cock threatened to take over his head. He desperately wanted to fuck the hurt look off of you.
You needed him. That fact was evident enough after this morning.
You had even chosen a pair of flats, too tight on your heels. Geto meant to throw them out; however, this past month, he's disregarded his tasks.
You had to learn that you needed him.
You made it seem like a bad thing to rely on him. You fussed when he took the initiative to open jars and heavy set doors. You fumed at the mention of living with him. It was about time he shut it all up. Was it all that bad to be reliant on him when that's all he wanted from you?
Geto surmised that his care was all you needed.
Therefore, he set aside a pair of slides to alleviate your pain. He planned to pick you up from work once he got your call. Your lover had the answer. You needed to trust that. Today will be the day; he got everything he wanted. His ego swelled as he prepped food for the impending dinner. He chopped veggies and set aside chicken to thaw in the sink.
Geto kept glancing at the clock, knowing time was of the essence.
His phone buzzed. Geto fished it out from his pocket, and he was met by your teary, trembly voice. You spoke impassioned without any air entering your lungs. His cock swelled inside his sweats. "Duck," He cooed. A gutteral moan threatened to seep through the line because you quieted to mere sniffles at the nickname. He took hold of his swollen tip, applying pressure along his shaft. "I don't understand gibberish. Be clear. Take deep breaths." Geto demonstrated, and you followed.
"Su," You whimpered.
He balanced his phone on his shoulder blade. He brought his trousers lower on his hips. “What do you need?” Geto pinched his balls, heating the globes in his hand, causing his erection to grow larger. A few moments passed. Your incoherent whines steadied for his sake, but the settled panic encased each word you spoke.
"Su, please… Gu- get me. Please. I- I- uh, I need you. Like I really need you." Geto bit hard on his flesh lips that he tasted iron. He salivated over your lovely words.
He fucked into his hands like a fleshlight. He snapped his hips rough along the grooves of his calloused knuckles. He imagined his precious duck begging him to help her forget. He would use your filthy mouth like a yearning slut, hell bent on tasting his cum.
"What's wrong? You're at work, aren't y'a?" Geto kept his voice even, despite the impending burst of his swollen dick, about to soak your kitchen tiles.
"Yeah, I got fired." You sobbed, "My boss… she said some hurtful things. Su… please come pick me up now."
"Why should I?" Geto teased, and the silence of yours permeated. A new wail pushed through the quietness. What's this? You had questioned his love, and you dare cry now for his care? Not when he slowly withdrew his attention, offering breadcrumbs for you to trail…What a spoiled brat. One orchestrated bad day had you pleading for his care. Your insecurities laid themselves bare on a silver platter for his taste. Maybe he was being too rude. "Duckling, I'll get y'a. Just joking. Say it. You need me."
You sniffled, "I need you."
Geto instructed you to pack your things. He will be on the way.
Once he hung up, he cummed on his bare feet.
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I still have the old version posted. But I might take that one down... who knows. This will be uploaded to A03 soon!
Thank you, @appleblueberry-pie, for the awesome request. I hope you like the rewrite if you're still on Tumblr!
Your boyfriend suggests cuckolding. In your mind, you're expecting a weird looking man with weird sexual tendencies and dick game worse than your boyfriend's. You couldn't be more wrong.
tags. modern au • cuck (er?) geto • brat-tamer geto • brat reader • filming • sexually inexperienced reader • the importance of foreplay • heavy praise kink • heavy petting • fingering • multiple orgasms • dumbification • crying • rough sex • a hint of soft degradation
100 brownie points for whoever can tell me what the title of this fic is referencing 🎤
Your boyfriend putters aimlessly around the bedroom. You roll your neck, chugging down on a bottle of water. The plastic crinkles loudly in your hand.
The ceiling has a weird stain. It's your first time noticing it. You really hope it isn't mold, because that's exactly the sort of thing life would throw your way. As if everything isn't already hectic enough.
There's a kissed pressed to your cheek. "Was that good?" Your boyfriend says, tugging his jeans back up. His belt clinks loudly and the sound grates on your ears.
"Mhmm" You faked every fucking moan.
Jiro, your boyfriend, isn't actually all that bad. A little tamer than what you're used to. But maybe boredom is normal in relationships. That means things are healthy; right? And isn't that what you want?
He's not hideous. He treats you well, even if he is a little forgetful most of the time. Jiro actually likes you—which is a first. He opens every door. Brings you souvenirs from all of his trips. Doesn't let you lift a single finger. Slightly overbearing, but what man isn't? All good signs.
You just aren't attracted to him. You keep hoping that one day it'll just...click, and you'll be head over heels for him. Maybe there's just something fundamentally wrong with you on some molecular level. This isn't the first time a boyfriend has failed to satisfy you in bed, after all. This one just happens to have the heart of gold to make up for it.
You snuggle back down into the sheets and drown out the smell of sex and beer with the scent of your candle. You're halfway into lalaland when Jiro kisses the side of your neck. You grumble and then whine when he does it again. You hope he isn't wanting round two.
You're at that point where you couldn't fake a proper moan even if he paid you.
"Babyyyy" Jiro says, nuzzling at your throat. "There's something I want to try"
"Not now, I hope" You say, sinking your fingers into the short strands of hair and pulling him off of you. Jiro makes a needy sound, leaning forwards to kiss you. There's no finesse to it—and Jiro isn't usually such a shit kisser. "Jiro—"
"Okay, okay" He says, pulling back for real. "Don't laugh at me"
"Why would I laugh at you?" You grumble, starting to get annoyed at the shifty nervous act he's got going on now. "I told you—as long as it isn't—"
"—Anal, yes, I know" Jiro finishes, and then starts fidgeting with the hem of your cami top. He says nothing else.
"Spit it out" You snap; not even bothering to hide your irritation. Jiro turns a rosy pink, he likes it when you get snappish with him—for some reason. He might be more messed up than you are.
"I want you to uhm–try" His voice cracks. Jiro pauses, and then tries again. "I want you to try cucking"
You're sure you've misheard him. "What the hell is that?"
"I want you to get fucked by another guy" He states plainly, red all the way to his big ears.
...what the hell?
But that isn't enough for Jiro, apparently, because there's more. "And I want to see. Not there physically, but a recording. I want you to film it...I know someone who does that kinda thing and he was talking to me about. I got interested and I've been thinking about it for a while"
You try to keep a straight face. You really do. You know it can't be easy, telling someone your sexual preferences and shit. But— "You know a guy who...what, gets paid to fuck other guy's girlfriends?"
Jiro groans, burying his face in his hands.
"Baby! You said you wouldn't make fun!" The petname is followed by more blushing, like what you said was somehow more outlandish than what he said "Just...yes or no?"
"I have so many questions" You tell him, grinning at the ridiculousness of it all. "One...why do you know someone like that. I've met all of your friends and none of them strike me as the type to...well. Do that kind of stuff. And two—" You pause, glancing at your boyfriend.
He looks sort of pathetic, in a sodden wet kitten way. It makes you feel kind of bad for the teasing.
For once, you'll have mercy on him. He really does treat you well. You can indulge his weird kink, just this once. "If we're recording anything, I don't want anybody having it but you"
Jiro, the sodden thing, perks right up. "Does that mean you're interested?"
"Yeah, sure" You tell him, shrugging a shoulder, grabbing his phone to order yourself something to eat. It'll suck, but it'll make Jiro happy...so. "I'm not doing any of that weird freaky shit though. Just regular sex""
You would've completely forgotten about agreeing to the stupid sex thing Jiro wanted to try, if it weren't for his anxious, antsy behavior over the course of the next three days. By the way he's acting, you would think he's the one about to have sex.
The first day, he treated you with an entire edible arrangement basket, kissing your cheek to tell you that the plans are concrete and everything has been paid for. You're pretty sure he might have mentioned his name too...a Segu, or something—but you were far too engrossed in the chocolate covered strawberries to care.
On the day the creep is set to arrive, you took an everything shower. Jiro even helped shave the parts you couldn't reach. It was such a weird experience. Your boyfriend dolling you up to get fucked by another guy. For a minute there, you were afraid he would accidentally nick you with the razor...but his hand were shockingly steady.
You're scrolling absentmindedly on your phone when the buzzer outside goes off. Jiro goes ramrod straight, like a dog hearing its owner come home. He freezes for a second, completely useless and cherry red, so you swat the back of his head and go to open the door yourself.
Sunlight streams through the apartment. The wind blows, sort of cinematic. You're staring at his chest, cicadas buzzing in your ears as you drift your gaze up...and then up some more.
Oh.
"Hello," A polite voice lilts, like tap from a sink.
You've never been one to mask your expressions very well. So when the stranger smiles at you, you can only assume he's seen your jaw literally drop. You stand there like an idiot, trying to get your brain to turn back on.
"H–hey?" You croak, brows furrowing in confusion.
You were expecting...not this guy. Someone interested in fucking other peoples girlfriends and wives would have to be just as weird looking as their sexual kink. And to be honest...ugly. So ugly you'd have to put your face in a pillow and picture someone else to get off.
This guy isn't that. The complete opposite, in fact. Tall, way taller than Jiro. Long, black hair tied up in a messy man bun, strands artfully framing his face. Tanned skin, eyes shaped like almonds with a certain fox-like character to them that it makes your stomach churn.
And when he smiles, which he's doing now, you can see a gleaming set of white teeth and slick lips. Is he wearing chapstick? Probably. You want to panic (which you are actually doing) and shut the door in face. This can't be the guy Jiro knows.
"Well; you aren't Jiro" He says, which completely disproves your earlier musings "So I'm going to assume you're his girlfriend. May I come in, sweetheart?"
Your brain shuts off again. This time, it's easier for it to come back on. Absolutely ridiculous. You've been around attractive people before. Shoulders tensing, you step back into the apartment, muttering. "Sure. Fuck; I don't care"
He chuckles behind you. Smooth. Really smooth.
Jiro has gotten back to his senses as well, and shakes the guys hand. There's a big black case strapped to his back. Your stomach churns. Oh. Right. The camera.
Knowing you're going to be filmed is one thing. Actually having to go through with it is enough. You watch as he slides it off of his capable shoulders while he and Jiro engage in friendly conversation.
"Baby, this is Geto," Jiro says, nodding his head in your direction. "Geto, this is my gorgeous girlfriend"
You roll your eyes, trying to save face. Geto, on the other hand, hasn't taken his eyes off of you once. Even when he and your boyfriend were talking, he was looking at you. And now, he slowly rakes his eyes up and down your body.
"Have you ever done something like this before?" He inquires; sliding the tripod over to Jiro, who works on setting it up.
"No" You answer simply, sitting on the couch because standing around uselessly is starting to make you anxious.
Geto chuckles, Jiro's struggling with the tripod now, and so he strolls over to assist him. It's a nice sound, his laugh, you mean. "You don't sound too excited"
"I'm not" You shrug, crossing one leg over the other and curling your toes into the carpet. "I mean, no offense, but the sex is probably going to suck"
A look crosses Geto's face. He pauses, hands stilling around the tripod (fingers slender and elegant), and then he stares at you. "Pardon?"
Jiro rushes to mend the situation. "She's a bit of a brat, I told you. Always says the first thing on her mind"
"I see that" Geto says; and smiles. It isn't a real one. You can tell. His hands have completely fallen away from the tripod now, watching you. For once, you're beginning to regret speaking. "And you really have no questions or concerns?"
How fast can this be over? You of course, don't say that. "Not really." You rest against the arm of the couch. Hopefully after this, you'll be able to forget the whole thing ever happened.
There's another lapse in conversation. And then, as if nothing had ever happened, Geto turns back to the tripod and Jiro. He murmurs something that sounds like, I see, and then the two of them begin to discuss things you don't really care about. Stuff Jiro wants to see, stuff you already told him you don't ever want to do. Pretty boring.
Geto doesn't address you again. You might as well be nothing but a fixture in the living room. In fact, his gaze sweeps right over you entirely. It makes your nerves buzz with energy. You don't like being ignored.
"So...I guess I'll head out now" Your boyfriend murmurs, leaning over the couch to kiss your cheek. You stiffen, but lean into it eventually. The door closes behind him, and the two of you are alone.
There's more silence. Awkward, heavy silence. For a second; it feels like Jiro's just signed your death sentence. And then it evaporates, and Geto smiles.
"What are you expecting from this?" He asks, which is far from what you were expecting. Less talking and more fucking.
"It's just like making a porn video right?" You ask in return; shrugging. "I just fake moan a lot and pretend you got me off and then Jiro's happy" To be honest, the real question should be what Jiro gets out of it.
Geto gets money and free sex, which is a low you never thought you'd reach...but you aren't gonna judge. To you, your boyfriend seems to be the only one missing out. Well, other than you of course. So maybe Geto's the only one reaping anything from this.
"Why do think you have to pretend to get off?" Geto inquires next, tilting his head at you with that honeyed voice.
You simply stare at him like he's an idiot. "All girls fake it" (you think) "I like Jiro, and it's not his fault there's something wrong with my vagina—so...are we going to get this started or what?"
After another moment of Geto studying you, he rounds the couch. For a second, you think he's going to turn the tripod on to do just that, but he doesn't—coming to stand above you instead. He tilts his head again, like you're some sort of small creature he can't quite figure out. His hair falls into his face a bit.
He stretches a hand out towards you, and you instinctively jerk back from it. Jiro did check to make sure this guy wasn't a murderer, right? What's with that stare?
Geto tries again. This time, crouching.
"Hey, what are you doing—?" You grit out, shoulders tense, realizing all too late that in order to have sex with this guy you do actually have to take your clothes off. So you force yourself to relax.
Only, Geto doesn't strip you out of your clothes. He doesn't even touch you sexually. Instead he cups your face with his broad hand. His nails press into the apples of your cheeks as he turns your face this way and that, studying you.
What the actual fuck is wrong with this guy? You think, skin heating underneath his touch.
"You're very pretty," Geto says
"...okay?"
"Yes," He chuckles fondly, and somehow it sounds sweet and condescending all at once. "You are the most beautiful girl I've ever seen. Especially those eyes"
"Oh. Uh...okay?" You mutter again, sliding your gaze away. You don't really see what this has to do with sex. And you know you aren't ugly. Beautiful might be a bit or a stretch, though. Hot. Sexy. Cute. Beautiful? Not really. "Thanks? I guess?"
"Hm." Geto hums, and then, "I don't think I'll turn the camera on yet"
Your face, still held up in Geto's hand, scrunches into a scowl. "Why not?"
"None of that," He murmurs, and the pressure of his fingers into your cheeks increases, "Humor me for a second, beautiful?"
You don't want to. This isn't for you to 'humor' anything. It's so Jiro can have some weird shit to jerk off to later when he's all alone. What this is, what Geto's doing now, is a big waste of your time. Yet when you open your mouth to tell him so, his thumb slips past your parted lips.
His finger presses down on your tongue. Then he maps your mouth from the inside : your cheeks, the edges of your teeth. Back to your molars and up towards your incisors. And you let him, caught in this weird limbo of incessant contact. Geto holds himself perfectly still, you've noticed.
"Sweetheart" Geto says, pressing the pad of his thumb into one of your teeth so hard one would think he's trying to draw blood. "I asked you a question"
You swallow around his thumb and shrug again. "I guess? Uh—sure?"
Geto leans in on his knees. The expression on his face darkens, just a little. You don't think he...liked that answer. Or maybe it was the tone you used? Whatever it is, there's a displeased vibe coming from him. Even then; he's still level with you on the couch height wise. What a dick.
"Whenever I ask a question, I expect an answer" He says, still in that soft tone. "Let's try again, okay? Is it alright if I keep the camera off for a moment?"
Your brows scrunch. "You are so weird—"
Geto slides a second finger into your mouth so fast you aren't even prepared, less so for the way he jabs them down your throat. Hard.
You choke, sputtering, eyes narrowed. "What was fucking hell was that fucking for?" You snap, spit bubbling around your lips.
Geto smiles. "I'm sorry honey," He says, still smiling down at you. "That was an accident. Let's try again, alright?"
Does he think you're some kind of idiot? You know he didn't do that on 'accident'. He meant to shove his fingers down your throat. When he pulls the digits free enough for you to speak freely; you can see the shine of your spit webbing between them.
You have a few more choice words for him. 'Go fuck yourself' being pretty high on that list...but. You eye his fingers again.
"Okay" You mumble warily, which is the most you're willing to give. Geto seems to know when to push and when not to, because he doesn't bring up how your response isn't technically a proper one. Instead, he smiles again; and smears his fingers on the fabric of your black sleep shorts.
A matching set. Cropped cami with a lettuce trim and a little red bow right at the juncture of your breasts. Shorts trimmed in red lace with another bow and cherries. Jiro's favorite.
"Excellent, sweetheart" What is with these petnames? "How about you give me a kiss?"
You hesitate, shooting him another wary look. Kissing doesn't have to be intimate, you know lots of people who kiss during sex with casual partners. Oddly enough, you find your mind wandering to Jiro.
He can't mind you kissing Geto too much, since he did pay him to fuck you. So...despite your misgivings, you lean forwards and place a stiff kiss against his slack mouth.
It's weird. All wrong. He is wearing chapstick, you note at the back of your mind. The plain kind that's slightly minty. Geto allows the kiss to remain stiff and prudish for a handful of moments, as if to let you gather your bearings.
And then he moves. It's gradual, but you're so keyed up and nervous you notice almost immediately. His fingers finally slip from your cheeks and instead glide down to your chin. He tilts your head, first this way and then that and finally your slips slide together in a proper kiss.
What the fuck? No seriously, what the fuck?
Geto's tongue presses against the seam of your lips, and then he licks into the cavern of your mouth, all smooth and easy. He hums, appreciative, and then presses closer. Then he does some...weird thing with his tongue, rubbing and twining it against your own like he's trying to tie a knot or something.
You strain to breathe properly, hands clutching tight little fist-falls on the couch. Are kisses supposed to feel this good? Are they really supposed to make you tingly all over and slightly lightheaded? You thought that kind of thing was for movies, or those hentai mangas Jiro pretends he doesn't have.
But no, that tingly, gut clenching, heat-spreading feeling is real. You're stiff as a board, hackles raised when Geto manages to pull away—cheeks flamed and body twitching with apprehension, looking anywhere but at him.
As if to make up for it (or make it worse), he slides his palms against your thighs. Up and then down and then up again. Elegant fingers, neatly trimmed nail-beds. Red-hot lava seems to burst from wherever he touches, and by the time he speaks again, you're trembling.
"Good girl" He murmurs, and then lifts one hand to cup your cheek again. Almost like he's petting you. Against your better judgement, your eyes jerk to his face. Your brain scrambles, and it's getting a little hard to focus.
"I knew you weren't a brat" Geto continues, not caring that you're rendered practically useless. Sort of belatedly, you realize he is petting you. Like you're some sort of harried creature. Your cheek, your hair, the hot side of your neck, back down to your thighs again. "I knew you weren't one the minute he showed me your picture, sweetheart"
You don't say anything to that. Even if it is just slightly creepy. Again, Geto oddly doesn't seem to mind. Maybe it was rhetorical.
"And because you're such a good girl, you'll do exactly as I tell you" He probes and this time, when a response isn't given, the press of his fingers bites into your cheeks again.
Oh. You're actually meant to say something. You try to say something, to speak, really, you do. All you can muster is a wheeze. What the—? There's no way a kiss has got you this out of sorts. Use your brain, stupid. Determined, you manage a nod.
Getos smile is a big one—like you've just managed some grand milestone. "You know, you're surprisingly obedient, baby. Has a kiss got you this out of it?"
That manages to break you right out of your stupor. Practically hissing, you spit out a "No fucking way!" that sounds more shaky than you'd like to admit. As if to make up for that particular blunder, you glare at him.
"Not just yet, huh?" Geto murmurs, and you would think that he was talking to himself, if it weren't for the dramatic drop of his shoulders and the expression on his face. "Don't worry, we'll get you there, darling"
"Get me where—?" You start, but then Geto is turning on the camera and hoisting you into his lap without so much as another word. If it weren't for the camera (or maybe even despite it), you would really glare at him. Maybe curse him some more.
Before you can squirm away or do something that ruins the...vibe of the video (???), Geto situates you more firmly. His chest plastered right to your back – holy shit you can feel his pecs – and your thighs spread artfully, tiny shorts threatening to give one hell of a wedgie.
One arm wraps snugly around your midsection. There's the soft pressure of Geto pressing a kiss against your shoulder, and you assume that's the green light to get started. That's usually how things are with Jiro, anyway. So moving on instinct, you go to do just that.
You wiggle your fingers between your legs, lifting your hips just so to tug at his belt buckle. Why isn't he working with you, here? Does he expect you to do it all yourself from this angle? What an ass.
Geto catches your wrist and makes a disapproving noise. "No. Not now, sweetheart" His voice is oddly patronizing. You don't like that one bit.
"What the hell do you mean no?" You snap, as Geto forcibly tugs you back down into his lap again. "Are we going to do this or not—?"
"Don't be a brat" He interrupts rudely, massaging one of your breasts through your cami top before roughly pinching the nipple. "You were being so good for me before, baby. Don't act up now"
Before you can protest (and how badly you want to), Geto starts with that weird petting thing again. He's skillfully removed your shirt, like it's a scene right out of a movie. Which, well, you suppose it is. Hands skim along your stomach, toying with the waistband of your shorts. You'll never be able to look at this set the same way again.
Unlike Jiro, Geto isn't pawing at you. He isn't blindly groping at your breasts and midsection like your boyfriend often does. No, every touch is measured, precise. It takes you a second to realize he's going for specific pressure points that end up with you going wholly lax against him, no longer tense.
Even though he's hard and pressing right against your ass, he doesn't seem too eager to do anything about that. Instead, he places deep kisses down the side of your throat. It feels good...you can admit that.
His hand wanders down between your legs, pressing flat against your covered pussy. Uncontrolled, your hips jerk and a breathy sigh escapes you. Geto smiles against the back of your neck.
"That was such a cute little sound," He murmurs, gently plucking at your nipples until they're hard little peaks. "I see why Jiro's so obsessed with you, honey. But you're not Jiro's today. You're mine, aren't you darling?"
I'm my own person, you want to say. Your brains scrambles and then only thing you do say, is in the form of a soft whine.
Geto hums, one of his disappointed ones. "C'mon, sweetheart. What did I say about questions? Don't tell me you've forgotten already"
You hate the way your brain supplies immediately : when he asks questions, he wants an answer. You scowl. If Geto wants an answer, you'll give him one. Just not the one he's expecting. "'m...not—"
Quicker than a serpent, Geto's hand snakes down your shorts and presses right against your bare pussy (when did you get so wet??). Your hips twitch and buck, which makes the bastard laugh. "Oh? Could you speak up for the camera, sweetheart?"
Right. The camera. Is Jiro into the whole cutesy submissive act? Since fucking when?
"...." You can't get the words out. But you have to. "I am"
Again, Geto is not satisfied with that answer. You had an inkling that he wouldn't be. He pinches your nipples harshly (sorta like your boyfriend) and your face erupts into embarrassment at the squeaky whine you let out.
"I'm yours" You rush to correct toes curling. Was that too quiet? What if it wasn't what he was expecting? Just to be safe, you go to repeat it. "I'm...haah—"
Finally, you seem to have done something right. Geto smiles, and tugs off those stupid shorts at last. The cool air makes you tingle, especially against your cunt. Geto bends you forward a little bit, in order to reach the lubricant left on the coffee table.
You eye the bottle before it's pulled out of sight. For once, you don't think you're going to need it. Puzzled, your gaze travels between your legs—you're clearly wet. And Jiro fingered you just before anyway...so theoretically you should be able to take him with only a little bit of pain and discomfort.
Why isn't he just getting it on with? If it were Jiro, he'd be dying to put his cock in by now. But there's no real way to communicate this with him, considering you're the one facing the camera.
Like with the caressing, Geto doesn't beat around the bush. He coats his fingers, hand darting between your thighs and then he presses one inside. Then, he seems to reconsider something, and pulls it back out. The sound of two fingers pushing into your cunt is squelching and lewd in the otherwise quiet room.
No pain. Not even a little bit. In fact, it feels pretty good, you'd say.
"A little tight," Geto murmurs, more to himself than you or the camera. Then, to you : "Is Jiro not taking care of you, sweetheart? My poor girl"
You don't have to answer that one. You don't know how you know. His fingers push in a bit deeper with no resistance and a huff leaves your lips. You're not too excited about this, especially since it's mostly just jabbing and prodding, like some sort of medical exam. You wish he'd just pull them out and fuck you already. When Jiro does the fucking part; it at least feels like you could cum, rather than when he fingers you.
Sometimes (though rare) you actually do cum. Weak ones, where it doesn't bring you as much pleasure as you've seen girls do in those porn video. But then again, most porn is fake anyway...so maybe they were faking it too.
Geto, as observant as he is, catches onto your new apprehension. You can feel his gaze on you, though you refuse to turn your head back.
"Has he really never made you cum this way?" He murmurs, voice low so that the camera couldn't possibly pick up on it.
"Are you—" Stupid, you want to say. This way? You look down between your legs, brows furrowing in displeasure. "I already told you I can't"
His brows jump to his forehead. It's the first show of normal human emotion you've seen from him. And then he laughs; like he knows something you don't.
"I thought you were acting for the video" He says, smiling sadly at you. "Poor girl. No wonder you're so pent up. This one's a special present from me, alright?"
Before you can ask what that was all about, Geto adjusts your position a little. You're no longer centered in his lap, but rather settled onto one thigh, his right one. He swats at your knee a couple of times before you realize he wants you to prop it up. The other leg is cracked open, like a pretzel—putting you all on display for the camera.
It's embarrassing. It makes your gut clench and you feel slick dribbling out of your cunt, which might even be worse, though Geto doesn't seem to mind. His fingers feel around inside of you for a moment, as if searching for something.
Whatever it is he's looking for, he doesn't find it. Not on the first try at least. Not even on the second, shifting you around. But on the third—
Your hand flies out to curl around his wrist, whole body jerking. "Hey—what?" It's there and gone again, so fast you can't even tell if it felt good or bad, just different.
You can feel Geto smiling into your skin. When you glance back at him, all wary, you find that he's already staring. There's that same, foxy, smarmy look. But he doesn't answer you, not verbally at least.
Instead, his fingers slide in and out. Rolling smooth and easy, like that thing he did with his tongue in your mouth before. It's nice, and that jerky, sudden feeling doesn't come back. You're just about to chalk it up to a happy little accident when his fingers curl and stroke that spot purposefully.
Your eyes blow wide, and a rattling gasp tears free from your throat. You twitch; legs snapping shut as a rush of slick gushes from your cunt. Geto grunts, murmurs something like, no you don't, and rips your legs back open again.
His free hand pins your knee down to the couch and then he proceeds to do the...the most vile thing you've ever felt with his fingers. They fuck in hard and fast, your pussy trying to tighten on every slide to keep him inside. They stroke incessantly on that same little spot on every other thrust, constant stimulation. It feels so good you can't even moan at first, just taut and trembling and shaking.
And when you eventually start moaning, loud, throaty sounds, like one of those girls—you don't even have the mind to be all that embarrassed about it.
He isn't even touching your clit. The only way you had been able to come before with Jiro fucking you was with hours of stimulation and his wet fingers rubbing mad circles at your clit (he might otherwise suck at sex, but at least he knew how to find it with no problem).
Whatever this is that Geto's doing...it blows Jiro's meager lovemaking out of the water. Your back arches with a loud, cracked groan and you toss your head back onto his shoulder, squirming on his fingers.
Throughout this, Geto says nothing. He would seem almost..bored, if it weren't for the heat of his gaze on you. Even with your eyes shut and body burning, you can feel him watching you. His fingers speed up, somehow, what the fuck, practically a blur. When he speaks, you almost don't hear him.
"Now that feels much better, doesn't it?" He practically coos in your ear, chest rumbling with what you think might be laughter. Your hands claw at the cushions, eyes squeezed tightly shut as that knot inside your stomach twists and uncoils rapidly.
Reaching that peak feels inevitable. Your body seizes up tight and you think you might have screamed. That's how good it felt. Geto meticulously and mercilessly wrings you completely dry, drawing out that orgasm so long you think it spurs on a second.
When it's finally over and done with, and Geto's sure he can't get anything else out of you, his fingers still. And then they slip out completely, pulling a ragged whine free. Ashamed (why; you couldn't really say) you stare down at the carpet.
All of that anger seems to have melted right out of you. Your head spins. Each thought is harder to grasp than the last. Geto chuckles, and then slides you off of his lap down onto the couch. Speaking of Geto, you're supposed to be thinking some very angry thoughts about him. But even that seems a world away.
Hands rearrange your body. You rest your face down against the couch, turning to inhale the familiar scent as Geto busies himself with his clothes. You want him to hurry up, that much you do know, but you want to be patient for him even more.
Geto's cock slots between your thighs. He ruts between them for a handful of moments and every slide has pleasure knotting inside your stomach. It feels good. So far, every time Geto's touched you, you've felt nothing but intense pleasure.
"Alright, sweetheart. Let's see where we're at with that obedience, hmm?" You don't care to ask what it is he's talking about. As if reading your thoughts, his cock nudges at your entrance, eliciting a loud moan from below. "You want me to fuck you, right?"
"Yes. Yes," You even lift your ass up, hazily looking back at him. If that doesn't tell him how eager you are; you don't know what will. "I want that"
Geto furrows his brows, and sighs so forlorn and long that it's obviously fake. But you're so dizzy with need you don't even realize it, stomach plummeting. "Oh, but..."
Even as he says it, what feels like a rejection, his hand rubs up and down your spine.
"But w-what?!"
"Well, Jiro told me earlier you were a brat" He says, rubbing his cock right against your hole. "And you were so snappish and rude. And you said it wouldn't feel good. Really hurt my feelings..."
When the hell did you say that? "Uhm....I—"
"See, sweetheart, I'm a gentleman. I can always stop here, you know? You did cum," Here, Geto stops petting you. Your chest heaves, panicked. He's going to stop. "I don't have sex with brats, anyway. I prefer good, sweet, obedient girls"
You sputter, shaking your head with wide eyes, cunt still dripping on his cock. "No. No, no, I wanna—I want to, I—"
Geto hums, as if he's had a sudden epiphany. "Oh? You just wanted to feel good? Like you do with your boyfriend?"
Not exactly, your brain whispers. It's an excuse, but if it'll get Geto to fuck you, you'll happily say it. "Ye–yea! Like that"
"I don't want that though" Geto murmurs, frowning. He starts pulling back and a punched noise leaves your lips. "I told you, I like good girls. I like girls who want to be good for me. I'm not like Jiro. I'm not playing with a brat"
"Geto...."
"Unless," He says, eyes twinkling, "There's something you want to tell me?"
One look at his face tells you he's dead serious. He wants you to...your face twists into a grimace. But that's embarrassing. Uncontrollably, your eyes jump to the camera.
Is this what Jiro wanted?
Before you can spiral about that, Geto's fingers settle against your cheeks and he snaps your head back to look at him again. He's closer now. In this position, you couldn't see anything but him even if someone handed you a million yen.
"Say it for me," He murmurs, pointedly, another crack in his mask falling free. "Not for the camera. Not for Jiro. Just for me, baby. Can you be a good girl for me?"
You swallow, spit and nerves and all. Your stomach clenches and unclenches, hard. "Oka—okay. Okay. I wanna keep going. Give it to me now"
There's a grin so sharp on his face it could slice your skin from bone. "Oh come on, darling . Give me a little something to remember. Say you want to be my good girl and have my cock in this pussy"
"I wanna...I wanna be your good girl" You stutter, hips jerking back, trying to do the work yourself. When that doesn't work, you drop your head onto the cushions, defeated. This is so mortifying. "Fuck. Just—Geto...I'll be good. I promise, please...please, I want your co–cock...I want your cock in my pussy, please—"
Geto, the bastard, smiles and then pulls back, righting himself again. "I know that already, honey." His thumb jerks to the camera. "Tell it to him"
Liar. He said all you had to do was…what is wrong with this guy? Your shoulders curl with anxiety—no, with need. Blinding, all consuming need. Your body feels like its on fire.
"I want his cock" You mumble, squirming.
His hand swats against your ass. Hard. It stings, but this far in, even that manages to feel good. The biting sting is soothed as he squeezes your cheek in one hand. "Tell him. Like you just told me"
Ego bruised, you finally give in. "I want his cock, want it so bad. I want him to fuck me, feels like 'm gonna fuckin die—Geto, please...!"
Any semblance of dignity you once had jumps out of your skull the minute Geto pushes inside. He's carving out a space inside of you, stretching you a bit more than what you're used to with the safe baseline Jiro provides.
Geto, on the other hand, seems to dedicate his entire life to one goal : making sure you fall apart. There's no gentle buildup, just him nailing those same spots he found with his fingers you that make you see starts. Just like before, its both horrible and the best thing you've ever felt.
You don't really register the pitiful, broken noises spilling from your throat. That can't be you sounding like that—it can't. But it is. And the worst part by far is that you can't stop.
Not when you try to close your mouth (Geto adjusts the speed, and manages to thrust inside right as your lips clamp together...so of course you end up mewling again). Not when you turn your face further into the cushions to stifle them (Geto honest to god scoffs, a digs a hand under your slobbery cheek to wrench you back up again).
"My first name is Suguru, by the way," Geto—no, Suguru, murmurs in your ear. The only thing giving him away is the slight breathlessness to his voice, and nothing else. "I don't usually give it out to my partners, but you're really something special"
You're shaking like a leaf, soaking the couch below (someone should've brought something, you're going to stain it—) and moaning with a sob. Suguru's cock scrambles your head to mush. You swear you can feel it trickling right out of your ears like slushy snow.
A snap of his hips has you crying out his name pitifully. Suguru growls at the sound, mask cracking further, and when he shoves your head down into the couch, all you do is further lift your ass so he can continue pounding you seven ways to Sunday. You can't take it, you swear you can't—
Frantically, your hand snakes between your thighs. All you really need now is that edge of stimulation from your clit and you can cum again. You know you can. It's amazing. Jiro's never made you cum three times in one go.
Suguru snatches your arm so fast you get whiplash. His pace doesn't falter for even a second, folding and pinning your arm to your lower back as you whine pathetically below him.
"Absolutely not, sweetheart. Nice try," Suguru coos, sounding exhilarated. Like this is just as good for him as it is for you. It should make you feel...vindictive or something, finally cracking the bastard's perfect mask. But all it does is tighten your gut. "You don't need to touch your clit. You proved you could cum without it before, you little whore. You're going to do it again"
His words shouldn't shoot pleasure down your spine. If Jiro called you a whore, you would have slapped him. But you don't do anything to protest his harsh words, hips twitching as Suguru grinds into your cunt. He's disgustingly deep inside and even though you can't physically see him, the heat of his gaze is more than enough. You can't take it, you can't—
Your wrists jerk underneath his hold (is he seriously holding you down with just one hand?) (what the fuck? whatthefuckwhatthe—). You need something to hold onto. You feel like you're going to lose your fucking mind. You choke on another mewl, which cracks into a sob, and then you really are crying.
Crying because it feels too good. Writhing under his hold, spit bubbling at your lips, tears trickling down your cheeks. The whole nine yards. Suguru makes a pleased noise at that, murmurs, good girl, turning your face at the perfect angle for the camera.
Bastard.
It's sudden when you cum. But inevitable, just like Suguru implied. You scream again, you think, voice pitching so high you go silent. Your back arches obscenely, and Suguru lets you go at last—smiling you think when your hands fly onto the couch for purchase. You collapse into a mindless little puddle when you're done.
You might be done, but Suguru isn't. He groans, a shuddering thing, one of the few noises he's made, plastering himself to your back. Unconscious, you spread your legs further, objecting not once when his hand spreads your cheeks as he watches his cock piston inside your cunt.
Like with the petting, everything is a buzzy, strange little haze. Like you're on some other planet.
His cock twitches inside you. With a soft little whine, you clench around it a few times. "I was going to make her beg for a creampie, but I don't think our girl is capable of speech right now" He says, directed to Jiro.
Our girl. That makes you whimper, oddly pleased.
"Guess I should just give it to you anyway," He murmurs, more to himself than to either you or the camera. His thrusts speed up, growing slightly erratic. "Hold still baby..."
As if you could move a muscle. Your fingers twitch, and then your entire hand. Your brain struggles to function. "S-Sugu—"
That finally does it. Suguru bites you so hard it's painful, slamming all the way in. He doesn't release you from the sting of his teeth until he's pumped you entirely full of his spend.
"Good girl," Suguru whispers, once it's all over, a smidge too gentle for the camera alone. Your heart seizes onto the notion that this is something else meant just for you. "I knew you had it in you, my darling girl"
You guys.........please. if you want to learn how to write about a true Dom, a TRUE fucker, please turn to this. I swear fo god this is like.....this is the real deal. Im being reminded of REAL memories because of how incredibly descriptive ts is
Your boyfriend suggests cuckolding. In your mind, you're expecting a weird looking man with weird sexual tendencies and dick game worse than your boyfriend's. You couldn't be more wrong.
tags. modern au • cuck (er?) geto • brat-tamer geto • brat reader • filming • sexually inexperienced reader • the importance of foreplay • heavy praise kink • heavy petting • fingering • multiple orgasms • dumbification • crying • rough sex • a hint of soft degradation
100 brownie points for whoever can tell me what the title of this fic is referencing 🎤
Your boyfriend putters aimlessly around the bedroom. You roll your neck, chugging down on a bottle of water. The plastic crinkles loudly in your hand.
The ceiling has a weird stain. It's your first time noticing it. You really hope it isn't mold, because that's exactly the sort of thing life would throw your way. As if everything isn't already hectic enough.
There's a kissed pressed to your cheek. "Was that good?" Your boyfriend says, tugging his jeans back up. His belt clinks loudly and the sound grates on your ears.
"Mhmm" You faked every fucking moan.
Jiro, your boyfriend, isn't actually all that bad. A little tamer than what you're used to. But maybe boredom is normal in relationships. That means things are healthy; right? And isn't that what you want?
He's not hideous. He treats you well, even if he is a little forgetful most of the time. Jiro actually likes you—which is a first. He opens every door. Brings you souvenirs from all of his trips. Doesn't let you lift a single finger. Slightly overbearing, but what man isn't? All good signs.
You just aren't attracted to him. You keep hoping that one day it'll just...click, and you'll be head over heels for him. Maybe there's just something fundamentally wrong with you on some molecular level. This isn't the first time a boyfriend has failed to satisfy you in bed, after all. This one just happens to have the heart of gold to make up for it.
You snuggle back down into the sheets and drown out the smell of sex and beer with the scent of your candle. You're halfway into lalaland when Jiro kisses the side of your neck. You grumble and then whine when he does it again. You hope he isn't wanting round two.
You're at that point where you couldn't fake a proper moan even if he paid you.
"Babyyyy" Jiro says, nuzzling at your throat. "There's something I want to try"
"Not now, I hope" You say, sinking your fingers into the short strands of hair and pulling him off of you. Jiro makes a needy sound, leaning forwards to kiss you. There's no finesse to it—and Jiro isn't usually such a shit kisser. "Jiro—"
"Okay, okay" He says, pulling back for real. "Don't laugh at me"
"Why would I laugh at you?" You grumble, starting to get annoyed at the shifty nervous act he's got going on now. "I told you—as long as it isn't—"
"—Anal, yes, I know" Jiro finishes, and then starts fidgeting with the hem of your cami top. He says nothing else.
"Spit it out" You snap; not even bothering to hide your irritation. Jiro turns a rosy pink, he likes it when you get snappish with him—for some reason. He might be more messed up than you are.
"I want you to uhm–try" His voice cracks. Jiro pauses, and then tries again. "I want you to try cucking"
You're sure you've misheard him. "What the hell is that?"
"I want you to get fucked by another guy" He states plainly, red all the way to his big ears.
...what the hell?
But that isn't enough for Jiro, apparently, because there's more. "And I want to see. Not there physically, but a recording. I want you to film it...I know someone who does that kinda thing and he was talking to me about. I got interested and I've been thinking about it for a while"
You try to keep a straight face. You really do. You know it can't be easy, telling someone your sexual preferences and shit. But— "You know a guy who...what, gets paid to fuck other guy's girlfriends?"
Jiro groans, burying his face in his hands.
"Baby! You said you wouldn't make fun!" The petname is followed by more blushing, like what you said was somehow more outlandish than what he said "Just...yes or no?"
"I have so many questions" You tell him, grinning at the ridiculousness of it all. "One...why do you know someone like that. I've met all of your friends and none of them strike me as the type to...well. Do that kind of stuff. And two—" You pause, glancing at your boyfriend.
He looks sort of pathetic, in a sodden wet kitten way. It makes you feel kind of bad for the teasing.
For once, you'll have mercy on him. He really does treat you well. You can indulge his weird kink, just this once. "If we're recording anything, I don't want anybody having it but you"
Jiro, the sodden thing, perks right up. "Does that mean you're interested?"
"Yeah, sure" You tell him, shrugging a shoulder, grabbing his phone to order yourself something to eat. It'll suck, but it'll make Jiro happy...so. "I'm not doing any of that weird freaky shit though. Just regular sex""
You would've completely forgotten about agreeing to the stupid sex thing Jiro wanted to try, if it weren't for his anxious, antsy behavior over the course of the next three days. By the way he's acting, you would think he's the one about to have sex.
The first day, he treated you with an entire edible arrangement basket, kissing your cheek to tell you that the plans are concrete and everything has been paid for. You're pretty sure he might have mentioned his name too...a Segu, or something—but you were far too engrossed in the chocolate covered strawberries to care.
On the day the creep is set to arrive, you took an everything shower. Jiro even helped shave the parts you couldn't reach. It was such a weird experience. Your boyfriend dolling you up to get fucked by another guy. For a minute there, you were afraid he would accidentally nick you with the razor...but his hand were shockingly steady.
You're scrolling absentmindedly on your phone when the buzzer outside goes off. Jiro goes ramrod straight, like a dog hearing its owner come home. He freezes for a second, completely useless and cherry red, so you swat the back of his head and go to open the door yourself.
Sunlight streams through the apartment. The wind blows, sort of cinematic. You're staring at his chest, cicadas buzzing in your ears as you drift your gaze up...and then up some more.
Oh.
"Hello," A polite voice lilts, like tap from a sink.
You've never been one to mask your expressions very well. So when the stranger smiles at you, you can only assume he's seen your jaw literally drop. You stand there like an idiot, trying to get your brain to turn back on.
"H–hey?" You croak, brows furrowing in confusion.
You were expecting...not this guy. Someone interested in fucking other peoples girlfriends and wives would have to be just as weird looking as their sexual kink. And to be honest...ugly. So ugly you'd have to put your face in a pillow and picture someone else to get off.
This guy isn't that. The complete opposite, in fact. Tall, way taller than Jiro. Long, black hair tied up in a messy man bun, strands artfully framing his face. Tanned skin, eyes shaped like almonds with a certain fox-like character to them that it makes your stomach churn.
And when he smiles, which he's doing now, you can see a gleaming set of white teeth and slick lips. Is he wearing chapstick? Probably. You want to panic (which you are actually doing) and shut the door in face. This can't be the guy Jiro knows.
"Well; you aren't Jiro" He says, which completely disproves your earlier musings "So I'm going to assume you're his girlfriend. May I come in, sweetheart?"
Your brain shuts off again. This time, it's easier for it to come back on. Absolutely ridiculous. You've been around attractive people before. Shoulders tensing, you step back into the apartment, muttering. "Sure. Fuck; I don't care"
He chuckles behind you. Smooth. Really smooth.
Jiro has gotten back to his senses as well, and shakes the guys hand. There's a big black case strapped to his back. Your stomach churns. Oh. Right. The camera.
Knowing you're going to be filmed is one thing. Actually having to go through with it is enough. You watch as he slides it off of his capable shoulders while he and Jiro engage in friendly conversation.
"Baby, this is Geto," Jiro says, nodding his head in your direction. "Geto, this is my gorgeous girlfriend"
You roll your eyes, trying to save face. Geto, on the other hand, hasn't taken his eyes off of you once. Even when he and your boyfriend were talking, he was looking at you. And now, he slowly rakes his eyes up and down your body.
"Have you ever done something like this before?" He inquires; sliding the tripod over to Jiro, who works on setting it up.
"No" You answer simply, sitting on the couch because standing around uselessly is starting to make you anxious.
Geto chuckles, Jiro's struggling with the tripod now, and so he strolls over to assist him. It's a nice sound, his laugh, you mean. "You don't sound too excited"
"I'm not" You shrug, crossing one leg over the other and curling your toes into the carpet. "I mean, no offense, but the sex is probably going to suck"
A look crosses Geto's face. He pauses, hands stilling around the tripod (fingers slender and elegant), and then he stares at you. "Pardon?"
Jiro rushes to mend the situation. "She's a bit of a brat, I told you. Always says the first thing on her mind"
"I see that" Geto says; and smiles. It isn't a real one. You can tell. His hands have completely fallen away from the tripod now, watching you. For once, you're beginning to regret speaking. "And you really have no questions or concerns?"
How fast can this be over? You of course, don't say that. "Not really." You rest against the arm of the couch. Hopefully after this, you'll be able to forget the whole thing ever happened.
There's another lapse in conversation. And then, as if nothing had ever happened, Geto turns back to the tripod and Jiro. He murmurs something that sounds like, I see, and then the two of them begin to discuss things you don't really care about. Stuff Jiro wants to see, stuff you already told him you don't ever want to do. Pretty boring.
Geto doesn't address you again. You might as well be nothing but a fixture in the living room. In fact, his gaze sweeps right over you entirely. It makes your nerves buzz with energy. You don't like being ignored.
"So...I guess I'll head out now" Your boyfriend murmurs, leaning over the couch to kiss your cheek. You stiffen, but lean into it eventually. The door closes behind him, and the two of you are alone.
There's more silence. Awkward, heavy silence. For a second; it feels like Jiro's just signed your death sentence. And then it evaporates, and Geto smiles.
"What are you expecting from this?" He asks, which is far from what you were expecting. Less talking and more fucking.
"It's just like making a porn video right?" You ask in return; shrugging. "I just fake moan a lot and pretend you got me off and then Jiro's happy" To be honest, the real question should be what Jiro gets out of it.
Geto gets money and free sex, which is a low you never thought you'd reach...but you aren't gonna judge. To you, your boyfriend seems to be the only one missing out. Well, other than you of course. So maybe Geto's the only one reaping anything from this.
"Why do think you have to pretend to get off?" Geto inquires next, tilting his head at you with that honeyed voice.
You simply stare at him like he's an idiot. "All girls fake it" (you think) "I like Jiro, and it's not his fault there's something wrong with my vagina—so...are we going to get this started or what?"
After another moment of Geto studying you, he rounds the couch. For a second, you think he's going to turn the tripod on to do just that, but he doesn't—coming to stand above you instead. He tilts his head again, like you're some sort of small creature he can't quite figure out. His hair falls into his face a bit.
He stretches a hand out towards you, and you instinctively jerk back from it. Jiro did check to make sure this guy wasn't a murderer, right? What's with that stare?
Geto tries again. This time, crouching.
"Hey, what are you doing—?" You grit out, shoulders tense, realizing all too late that in order to have sex with this guy you do actually have to take your clothes off. So you force yourself to relax.
Only, Geto doesn't strip you out of your clothes. He doesn't even touch you sexually. Instead he cups your face with his broad hand. His nails press into the apples of your cheeks as he turns your face this way and that, studying you.
What the actual fuck is wrong with this guy? You think, skin heating underneath his touch.
"You're very pretty," Geto says
"...okay?"
"Yes," He chuckles fondly, and somehow it sounds sweet and condescending all at once. "You are the most beautiful girl I've ever seen. Especially those eyes"
"Oh. Uh...okay?" You mutter again, sliding your gaze away. You don't really see what this has to do with sex. And you know you aren't ugly. Beautiful might be a bit or a stretch, though. Hot. Sexy. Cute. Beautiful? Not really. "Thanks? I guess?"
"Hm." Geto hums, and then, "I don't think I'll turn the camera on yet"
Your face, still held up in Geto's hand, scrunches into a scowl. "Why not?"
"None of that," He murmurs, and the pressure of his fingers into your cheeks increases, "Humor me for a second, beautiful?"
You don't want to. This isn't for you to 'humor' anything. It's so Jiro can have some weird shit to jerk off to later when he's all alone. What this is, what Geto's doing now, is a big waste of your time. Yet when you open your mouth to tell him so, his thumb slips past your parted lips.
His finger presses down on your tongue. Then he maps your mouth from the inside : your cheeks, the edges of your teeth. Back to your molars and up towards your incisors. And you let him, caught in this weird limbo of incessant contact. Geto holds himself perfectly still, you've noticed.
"Sweetheart" Geto says, pressing the pad of his thumb into one of your teeth so hard one would think he's trying to draw blood. "I asked you a question"
You swallow around his thumb and shrug again. "I guess? Uh—sure?"
Geto leans in on his knees. The expression on his face darkens, just a little. You don't think he...liked that answer. Or maybe it was the tone you used? Whatever it is, there's a displeased vibe coming from him. Even then; he's still level with you on the couch height wise. What a dick.
"Whenever I ask a question, I expect an answer" He says, still in that soft tone. "Let's try again, okay? Is it alright if I keep the camera off for a moment?"
Your brows scrunch. "You are so weird—"
Geto slides a second finger into your mouth so fast you aren't even prepared, less so for the way he jabs them down your throat. Hard.
You choke, sputtering, eyes narrowed. "What was fucking hell was that fucking for?" You snap, spit bubbling around your lips.
Geto smiles. "I'm sorry honey," He says, still smiling down at you. "That was an accident. Let's try again, alright?"
Does he think you're some kind of idiot? You know he didn't do that on 'accident'. He meant to shove his fingers down your throat. When he pulls the digits free enough for you to speak freely; you can see the shine of your spit webbing between them.
You have a few more choice words for him. 'Go fuck yourself' being pretty high on that list...but. You eye his fingers again.
"Okay" You mumble warily, which is the most you're willing to give. Geto seems to know when to push and when not to, because he doesn't bring up how your response isn't technically a proper one. Instead, he smiles again; and smears his fingers on the fabric of your black sleep shorts.
A matching set. Cropped cami with a lettuce trim and a little red bow right at the juncture of your breasts. Shorts trimmed in red lace with another bow and cherries. Jiro's favorite.
"Excellent, sweetheart" What is with these petnames? "How about you give me a kiss?"
You hesitate, shooting him another wary look. Kissing doesn't have to be intimate, you know lots of people who kiss during sex with casual partners. Oddly enough, you find your mind wandering to Jiro.
He can't mind you kissing Geto too much, since he did pay him to fuck you. So...despite your misgivings, you lean forwards and place a stiff kiss against his slack mouth.
It's weird. All wrong. He is wearing chapstick, you note at the back of your mind. The plain kind that's slightly minty. Geto allows the kiss to remain stiff and prudish for a handful of moments, as if to let you gather your bearings.
And then he moves. It's gradual, but you're so keyed up and nervous you notice almost immediately. His fingers finally slip from your cheeks and instead glide down to your chin. He tilts your head, first this way and then that and finally your slips slide together in a proper kiss.
What the fuck? No seriously, what the fuck?
Geto's tongue presses against the seam of your lips, and then he licks into the cavern of your mouth, all smooth and easy. He hums, appreciative, and then presses closer. Then he does some...weird thing with his tongue, rubbing and twining it against your own like he's trying to tie a knot or something.
You strain to breathe properly, hands clutching tight little fist-falls on the couch. Are kisses supposed to feel this good? Are they really supposed to make you tingly all over and slightly lightheaded? You thought that kind of thing was for movies, or those hentai mangas Jiro pretends he doesn't have.
But no, that tingly, gut clenching, heat-spreading feeling is real. You're stiff as a board, hackles raised when Geto manages to pull away—cheeks flamed and body twitching with apprehension, looking anywhere but at him.
As if to make up for it (or make it worse), he slides his palms against your thighs. Up and then down and then up again. Elegant fingers, neatly trimmed nail-beds. Red-hot lava seems to burst from wherever he touches, and by the time he speaks again, you're trembling.
"Good girl" He murmurs, and then lifts one hand to cup your cheek again. Almost like he's petting you. Against your better judgement, your eyes jerk to his face. Your brain scrambles, and it's getting a little hard to focus.
"I knew you weren't a brat" Geto continues, not caring that you're rendered practically useless. Sort of belatedly, you realize he is petting you. Like you're some sort of harried creature. Your cheek, your hair, the hot side of your neck, back down to your thighs again. "I knew you weren't one the minute he showed me your picture, sweetheart"
You don't say anything to that. Even if it is just slightly creepy. Again, Geto oddly doesn't seem to mind. Maybe it was rhetorical.
"And because you're such a good girl, you'll do exactly as I tell you" He probes and this time, when a response isn't given, the press of his fingers bites into your cheeks again.
Oh. You're actually meant to say something. You try to say something, to speak, really, you do. All you can muster is a wheeze. What the—? There's no way a kiss has got you this out of sorts. Use your brain, stupid. Determined, you manage a nod.
Getos smile is a big one—like you've just managed some grand milestone. "You know, you're surprisingly obedient, baby. Has a kiss got you this out of it?"
That manages to break you right out of your stupor. Practically hissing, you spit out a "No fucking way!" that sounds more shaky than you'd like to admit. As if to make up for that particular blunder, you glare at him.
"Not just yet, huh?" Geto murmurs, and you would think that he was talking to himself, if it weren't for the dramatic drop of his shoulders and the expression on his face. "Don't worry, we'll get you there, darling"
"Get me where—?" You start, but then Geto is turning on the camera and hoisting you into his lap without so much as another word. If it weren't for the camera (or maybe even despite it), you would really glare at him. Maybe curse him some more.
Before you can squirm away or do something that ruins the...vibe of the video (???), Geto situates you more firmly. His chest plastered right to your back – holy shit you can feel his pecs – and your thighs spread artfully, tiny shorts threatening to give one hell of a wedgie.
One arm wraps snugly around your midsection. There's the soft pressure of Geto pressing a kiss against your shoulder, and you assume that's the green light to get started. That's usually how things are with Jiro, anyway. So moving on instinct, you go to do just that.
You wiggle your fingers between your legs, lifting your hips just so to tug at his belt buckle. Why isn't he working with you, here? Does he expect you to do it all yourself from this angle? What an ass.
Geto catches your wrist and makes a disapproving noise. "No. Not now, sweetheart" His voice is oddly patronizing. You don't like that one bit.
"What the hell do you mean no?" You snap, as Geto forcibly tugs you back down into his lap again. "Are we going to do this or not—?"
"Don't be a brat" He interrupts rudely, massaging one of your breasts through your cami top before roughly pinching the nipple. "You were being so good for me before, baby. Don't act up now"
Before you can protest (and how badly you want to), Geto starts with that weird petting thing again. He's skillfully removed your shirt, like it's a scene right out of a movie. Which, well, you suppose it is. Hands skim along your stomach, toying with the waistband of your shorts. You'll never be able to look at this set the same way again.
Unlike Jiro, Geto isn't pawing at you. He isn't blindly groping at your breasts and midsection like your boyfriend often does. No, every touch is measured, precise. It takes you a second to realize he's going for specific pressure points that end up with you going wholly lax against him, no longer tense.
Even though he's hard and pressing right against your ass, he doesn't seem too eager to do anything about that. Instead, he places deep kisses down the side of your throat. It feels good...you can admit that.
His hand wanders down between your legs, pressing flat against your covered pussy. Uncontrolled, your hips jerk and a breathy sigh escapes you. Geto smiles against the back of your neck.
"That was such a cute little sound," He murmurs, gently plucking at your nipples until they're hard little peaks. "I see why Jiro's so obsessed with you, honey. But you're not Jiro's today. You're mine, aren't you darling?"
I'm my own person, you want to say. Your brains scrambles and then only thing you do say, is in the form of a soft whine.
Geto hums, one of his disappointed ones. "C'mon, sweetheart. What did I say about questions? Don't tell me you've forgotten already"
You hate the way your brain supplies immediately : when he asks questions, he wants an answer. You scowl. If Geto wants an answer, you'll give him one. Just not the one he's expecting. "'m...not—"
Quicker than a serpent, Geto's hand snakes down your shorts and presses right against your bare pussy (when did you get so wet??). Your hips twitch and buck, which makes the bastard laugh. "Oh? Could you speak up for the camera, sweetheart?"
Right. The camera. Is Jiro into the whole cutesy submissive act? Since fucking when?
"...." You can't get the words out. But you have to. "I am"
Again, Geto is not satisfied with that answer. You had an inkling that he wouldn't be. He pinches your nipples harshly (sorta like your boyfriend) and your face erupts into embarrassment at the squeaky whine you let out.
"I'm yours" You rush to correct toes curling. Was that too quiet? What if it wasn't what he was expecting? Just to be safe, you go to repeat it. "I'm...haah—"
Finally, you seem to have done something right. Geto smiles, and tugs off those stupid shorts at last. The cool air makes you tingle, especially against your cunt. Geto bends you forward a little bit, in order to reach the lubricant left on the coffee table.
You eye the bottle before it's pulled out of sight. For once, you don't think you're going to need it. Puzzled, your gaze travels between your legs—you're clearly wet. And Jiro fingered you just before anyway...so theoretically you should be able to take him with only a little bit of pain and discomfort.
Why isn't he just getting it on with? If it were Jiro, he'd be dying to put his cock in by now. But there's no real way to communicate this with him, considering you're the one facing the camera.
Like with the caressing, Geto doesn't beat around the bush. He coats his fingers, hand darting between your thighs and then he presses one inside. Then, he seems to reconsider something, and pulls it back out. The sound of two fingers pushing into your cunt is squelching and lewd in the otherwise quiet room.
No pain. Not even a little bit. In fact, it feels pretty good, you'd say.
"A little tight," Geto murmurs, more to himself than you or the camera. Then, to you : "Is Jiro not taking care of you, sweetheart? My poor girl"
You don't have to answer that one. You don't know how you know. His fingers push in a bit deeper with no resistance and a huff leaves your lips. You're not too excited about this, especially since it's mostly just jabbing and prodding, like some sort of medical exam. You wish he'd just pull them out and fuck you already. When Jiro does the fucking part; it at least feels like you could cum, rather than when he fingers you.
Sometimes (though rare) you actually do cum. Weak ones, where it doesn't bring you as much pleasure as you've seen girls do in those porn video. But then again, most porn is fake anyway...so maybe they were faking it too.
Geto, as observant as he is, catches onto your new apprehension. You can feel his gaze on you, though you refuse to turn your head back.
"Has he really never made you cum this way?" He murmurs, voice low so that the camera couldn't possibly pick up on it.
"Are you—" Stupid, you want to say. This way? You look down between your legs, brows furrowing in displeasure. "I already told you I can't"
His brows jump to his forehead. It's the first show of normal human emotion you've seen from him. And then he laughs; like he knows something you don't.
"I thought you were acting for the video" He says, smiling sadly at you. "Poor girl. No wonder you're so pent up. This one's a special present from me, alright?"
Before you can ask what that was all about, Geto adjusts your position a little. You're no longer centered in his lap, but rather settled onto one thigh, his right one. He swats at your knee a couple of times before you realize he wants you to prop it up. The other leg is cracked open, like a pretzel—putting you all on display for the camera.
It's embarrassing. It makes your gut clench and you feel slick dribbling out of your cunt, which might even be worse, though Geto doesn't seem to mind. His fingers feel around inside of you for a moment, as if searching for something.
Whatever it is he's looking for, he doesn't find it. Not on the first try at least. Not even on the second, shifting you around. But on the third—
Your hand flies out to curl around his wrist, whole body jerking. "Hey—what?" It's there and gone again, so fast you can't even tell if it felt good or bad, just different.
You can feel Geto smiling into your skin. When you glance back at him, all wary, you find that he's already staring. There's that same, foxy, smarmy look. But he doesn't answer you, not verbally at least.
Instead, his fingers slide in and out. Rolling smooth and easy, like that thing he did with his tongue in your mouth before. It's nice, and that jerky, sudden feeling doesn't come back. You're just about to chalk it up to a happy little accident when his fingers curl and stroke that spot purposefully.
Your eyes blow wide, and a rattling gasp tears free from your throat. You twitch; legs snapping shut as a rush of slick gushes from your cunt. Geto grunts, murmurs something like, no you don't, and rips your legs back open again.
His free hand pins your knee down to the couch and then he proceeds to do the...the most vile thing you've ever felt with his fingers. They fuck in hard and fast, your pussy trying to tighten on every slide to keep him inside. They stroke incessantly on that same little spot on every other thrust, constant stimulation. It feels so good you can't even moan at first, just taut and trembling and shaking.
And when you eventually start moaning, loud, throaty sounds, like one of those girls—you don't even have the mind to be all that embarrassed about it.
He isn't even touching your clit. The only way you had been able to come before with Jiro fucking you was with hours of stimulation and his wet fingers rubbing mad circles at your clit (he might otherwise suck at sex, but at least he knew how to find it with no problem).
Whatever this is that Geto's doing...it blows Jiro's meager lovemaking out of the water. Your back arches with a loud, cracked groan and you toss your head back onto his shoulder, squirming on his fingers.
Throughout this, Geto says nothing. He would seem almost..bored, if it weren't for the heat of his gaze on you. Even with your eyes shut and body burning, you can feel him watching you. His fingers speed up, somehow, what the fuck, practically a blur. When he speaks, you almost don't hear him.
"Now that feels much better, doesn't it?" He practically coos in your ear, chest rumbling with what you think might be laughter. Your hands claw at the cushions, eyes squeezed tightly shut as that knot inside your stomach twists and uncoils rapidly.
Reaching that peak feels inevitable. Your body seizes up tight and you think you might have screamed. That's how good it felt. Geto meticulously and mercilessly wrings you completely dry, drawing out that orgasm so long you think it spurs on a second.
When it's finally over and done with, and Geto's sure he can't get anything else out of you, his fingers still. And then they slip out completely, pulling a ragged whine free. Ashamed (why; you couldn't really say) you stare down at the carpet.
All of that anger seems to have melted right out of you. Your head spins. Each thought is harder to grasp than the last. Geto chuckles, and then slides you off of his lap down onto the couch. Speaking of Geto, you're supposed to be thinking some very angry thoughts about him. But even that seems a world away.
Hands rearrange your body. You rest your face down against the couch, turning to inhale the familiar scent as Geto busies himself with his clothes. You want him to hurry up, that much you do know, but you want to be patient for him even more.
Geto's cock slots between your thighs. He ruts between them for a handful of moments and every slide has pleasure knotting inside your stomach. It feels good. So far, every time Geto's touched you, you've felt nothing but intense pleasure.
"Alright, sweetheart. Let's see where we're at with that obedience, hmm?" You don't care to ask what it is he's talking about. As if reading your thoughts, his cock nudges at your entrance, eliciting a loud moan from below. "You want me to fuck you, right?"
"Yes. Yes," You even lift your ass up, hazily looking back at him. If that doesn't tell him how eager you are; you don't know what will. "I want that"
Geto furrows his brows, and sighs so forlorn and long that it's obviously fake. But you're so dizzy with need you don't even realize it, stomach plummeting. "Oh, but..."
Even as he says it, what feels like a rejection, his hand rubs up and down your spine.
"But w-what?!"
"Well, Jiro told me earlier you were a brat" He says, rubbing his cock right against your hole. "And you were so snappish and rude. And you said it wouldn't feel good. Really hurt my feelings..."
When the hell did you say that? "Uhm....I—"
"See, sweetheart, I'm a gentleman. I can always stop here, you know? You did cum," Here, Geto stops petting you. Your chest heaves, panicked. He's going to stop. "I don't have sex with brats, anyway. I prefer good, sweet, obedient girls"
You sputter, shaking your head with wide eyes, cunt still dripping on his cock. "No. No, no, I wanna—I want to, I—"
Geto hums, as if he's had a sudden epiphany. "Oh? You just wanted to feel good? Like you do with your boyfriend?"
Not exactly, your brain whispers. It's an excuse, but if it'll get Geto to fuck you, you'll happily say it. "Ye–yea! Like that"
"I don't want that though" Geto murmurs, frowning. He starts pulling back and a punched noise leaves your lips. "I told you, I like good girls. I like girls who want to be good for me. I'm not like Jiro. I'm not playing with a brat"
"Geto...."
"Unless," He says, eyes twinkling, "There's something you want to tell me?"
One look at his face tells you he's dead serious. He wants you to...your face twists into a grimace. But that's embarrassing. Uncontrollably, your eyes jump to the camera.
Is this what Jiro wanted?
Before you can spiral about that, Geto's fingers settle against your cheeks and he snaps your head back to look at him again. He's closer now. In this position, you couldn't see anything but him even if someone handed you a million yen.
"Say it for me," He murmurs, pointedly, another crack in his mask falling free. "Not for the camera. Not for Jiro. Just for me, baby. Can you be a good girl for me?"
You swallow, spit and nerves and all. Your stomach clenches and unclenches, hard. "Oka—okay. Okay. I wanna keep going. Give it to me now"
There's a grin so sharp on his face it could slice your skin from bone. "Oh come on, darling . Give me a little something to remember. Say you want to be my good girl and have my cock in this pussy"
"I wanna...I wanna be your good girl" You stutter, hips jerking back, trying to do the work yourself. When that doesn't work, you drop your head onto the cushions, defeated. This is so mortifying. "Fuck. Just—Geto...I'll be good. I promise, please...please, I want your co–cock...I want your cock in my pussy, please—"
Geto, the bastard, smiles and then pulls back, righting himself again. "I know that already, honey." His thumb jerks to the camera. "Tell it to him"
Liar. He said all you had to do was…what is wrong with this guy? Your shoulders curl with anxiety—no, with need. Blinding, all consuming need. Your body feels like its on fire.
"I want his cock" You mumble, squirming.
His hand swats against your ass. Hard. It stings, but this far in, even that manages to feel good. The biting sting is soothed as he squeezes your cheek in one hand. "Tell him. Like you just told me"
Ego bruised, you finally give in. "I want his cock, want it so bad. I want him to fuck me, feels like 'm gonna fuckin die—Geto, please...!"
Any semblance of dignity you once had jumps out of your skull the minute Geto pushes inside. He's carving out a space inside of you, stretching you a bit more than what you're used to with the safe baseline Jiro provides.
Geto, on the other hand, seems to dedicate his entire life to one goal : making sure you fall apart. There's no gentle buildup, just him nailing those same spots he found with his fingers you that make you see starts. Just like before, its both horrible and the best thing you've ever felt.
You don't really register the pitiful, broken noises spilling from your throat. That can't be you sounding like that—it can't. But it is. And the worst part by far is that you can't stop.
Not when you try to close your mouth (Geto adjusts the speed, and manages to thrust inside right as your lips clamp together...so of course you end up mewling again). Not when you turn your face further into the cushions to stifle them (Geto honest to god scoffs, a digs a hand under your slobbery cheek to wrench you back up again).
"My first name is Suguru, by the way," Geto—no, Suguru, murmurs in your ear. The only thing giving him away is the slight breathlessness to his voice, and nothing else. "I don't usually give it out to my partners, but you're really something special"
You're shaking like a leaf, soaking the couch below (someone should've brought something, you're going to stain it—) and moaning with a sob. Suguru's cock scrambles your head to mush. You swear you can feel it trickling right out of your ears like slushy snow.
A snap of his hips has you crying out his name pitifully. Suguru growls at the sound, mask cracking further, and when he shoves your head down into the couch, all you do is further lift your ass so he can continue pounding you seven ways to Sunday. You can't take it, you swear you can't—
Frantically, your hand snakes between your thighs. All you really need now is that edge of stimulation from your clit and you can cum again. You know you can. It's amazing. Jiro's never made you cum three times in one go.
Suguru snatches your arm so fast you get whiplash. His pace doesn't falter for even a second, folding and pinning your arm to your lower back as you whine pathetically below him.
"Absolutely not, sweetheart. Nice try," Suguru coos, sounding exhilarated. Like this is just as good for him as it is for you. It should make you feel...vindictive or something, finally cracking the bastard's perfect mask. But all it does is tighten your gut. "You don't need to touch your clit. You proved you could cum without it before, you little whore. You're going to do it again"
His words shouldn't shoot pleasure down your spine. If Jiro called you a whore, you would have slapped him. But you don't do anything to protest his harsh words, hips twitching as Suguru grinds into your cunt. He's disgustingly deep inside and even though you can't physically see him, the heat of his gaze is more than enough. You can't take it, you can't—
Your wrists jerk underneath his hold (is he seriously holding you down with just one hand?) (what the fuck? whatthefuckwhatthe—). You need something to hold onto. You feel like you're going to lose your fucking mind. You choke on another mewl, which cracks into a sob, and then you really are crying.
Crying because it feels too good. Writhing under his hold, spit bubbling at your lips, tears trickling down your cheeks. The whole nine yards. Suguru makes a pleased noise at that, murmurs, good girl, turning your face at the perfect angle for the camera.
Bastard.
It's sudden when you cum. But inevitable, just like Suguru implied. You scream again, you think, voice pitching so high you go silent. Your back arches obscenely, and Suguru lets you go at last—smiling you think when your hands fly onto the couch for purchase. You collapse into a mindless little puddle when you're done.
You might be done, but Suguru isn't. He groans, a shuddering thing, one of the few noises he's made, plastering himself to your back. Unconscious, you spread your legs further, objecting not once when his hand spreads your cheeks as he watches his cock piston inside your cunt.
Like with the petting, everything is a buzzy, strange little haze. Like you're on some other planet.
His cock twitches inside you. With a soft little whine, you clench around it a few times. "I was going to make her beg for a creampie, but I don't think our girl is capable of speech right now" He says, directed to Jiro.
Our girl. That makes you whimper, oddly pleased.
"Guess I should just give it to you anyway," He murmurs, more to himself than to either you or the camera. His thrusts speed up, growing slightly erratic. "Hold still baby..."
As if you could move a muscle. Your fingers twitch, and then your entire hand. Your brain struggles to function. "S-Sugu—"
That finally does it. Suguru bites you so hard it's painful, slamming all the way in. He doesn't release you from the sting of his teeth until he's pumped you entirely full of his spend.
"Good girl," Suguru whispers, once it's all over, a smidge too gentle for the camera alone. Your heart seizes onto the notion that this is something else meant just for you. "I knew you had it in you, my darling girl"
Foolishly, you attempt to put aside any romantic feelings you have for your best friend, Maki; in order to assist her with her first heat.
tags. canon elements • omegaverse • omega reader • omega maki • internalized homophobia • not actually unrequited love • oblivious reader • heat cycles • mutual masturbation • sex toys
omegaverse is genuinely one of my favorite things to write and there so much you can do outside of strictly alpha male/omega female. this is one of them.
i also wanted to challenge myself by writing a different sort of sex scene. so here's to emotionally charged masturbating with your bestie
Maki, in typical Maki fashion, broke the news over text.
M : I presented as an omega
There's a part of you that can't really blame her. After all, you were halfway across the country doing a series of seemingly endless curse exorcisms— but, text. Really?
She could have called at least.
You told her as much, over a series of many, many concerned text messages. Eventually, Maki did call, face timing you to tell you to quit being a bother.
Shamelessly, you watched her over the phone. Trying, maybe, if you could see some sort of noticeable change in her. She didn't suddenly look omegan-sweet, round cheeks and pale delicate skin.
Just her perpetual frown and dead stare.
"How did it go?" You asked, nervous for no reason at all and sweating buckets. "Are you...uhm, okay? It's a big change" Going from unpresented (not beta—so there was always a chance that she could maybe...) to omega.
"It was fine." Maki said. Judging by her tone, you didn't press any further. "This doesn't change anything"
She hung up shortly after that. But all you could think was : this changes everything.
You yourself presented rather early for omegas, at nine years old.
Practically growing up in the Tokyo dorms (even as a child) with no family to take you in, the doctor at the time, before Shoko, had surmised that your early presentation was due to the sheer abundance of cursed energy inside of you. It tracked. You bled early too. A year before that.
Your body hadn't had much of the proper hormones for you to have a proper heat. Just hot, sticky, sweaty. Cold flashes. Lots of nausea. Fainting and could hardly keep anything down. Your memory was fuddled. Honestly, you just remembered being in a lot of pain.
So you wondered (perhaps...a bit obsessively) what Maki's presentation heat must have been like for her. Emotionally. Mentally. Physically. You know its wrong, but the thought of someone like Maki being an omega was...wrong.
She wasn't like a stereotypical alpha. She wasn't brash, or aggressive, or even very possessive. If anything, the only trait Maki shared with alphas was that she was watchful. But you figured that was more of a Zenin thing than a second gender thing.
Maki had even less in common with being omegas than she did with alphas. You didn't believe in any of that backwards bullshit about omegas being natural caretakers. But omegas were always...interlinked. Biologically, you knew omegas drew to each other so that they could raise pups together. And someone like Maki was always going to stay in the background, separate from the group.
She wasn't like a beta either.
Maki wasn't like anyone you had ever met. And you were drawn to her.
Those kinda of thoughts made you feel unexpectedly guilty. Like you were doing something wrong. Like everyone around you could hear your thoughts, could see you watching her. Sometimes Maki would catch you, and you'd turn away, heart pounding in your chest thinking, please don't tell on me.
When other omegas would crow about their dream alpha, you found yourself thinking of a muted scent. Dark green hair. Intelligent, shrewd eyes. Someone who pretended she didn't care, because she knew what could happen if she did. Someone who cared anyway.
You could explain it away, before. Maki was labeled as Unpresented. She was neither a beta, omega or an alpha but had the potential traits for all three. She could very well present as an alpha.
Embarrassingly, you imagined having her pups, if she were an alpha. The worst of your fantasies. The others were much gentler. Maki holding your hand. Scenting you. Cuddling in your nest. Even if it didn't quite...feel right. But it had to be right.
Because then it wouldn't be wrong, to feel the way you did about her.
So here you were, standing in front of the only heat-safe room in the entirety of Jujutsu Tech. Omegas had only been recently allowed to be sorcerers, a couple of generations back, though it was rare. Your hand rests on the doorknob for a long handful of seconds, afraid to take that final step.
It isn't abnormal for omegas to help each other with their heats. Not in That Way, of course, because that would be simply preposterous. But, being young, especially for the first year or three, it's hard to actually remember to take care of yourself.
Hard to remember you need to eat, and drink water. And to sleep, God, it's so easy to remember you actually need to try and rest. You've had help. Shoko, actually. An omega that you trusted. Someone with selective hearing, who sat in the corner when she could. Stroked your tummy and gave you a heating pad for the cramps.
You did the same for Kugisaki. You offered the same service to Maki. You just didn't expect that she'd take you up on it.
The cursed talisman protecting the door required blood. You pricked yourself on the sharp thumbtack and pressed your thumb against it. It hummed with cursed energy and you opened the door with ease, taking a deep breath.
You immediately wished you hadn't. Taken the deep breath, you meant.
Maki's scent, thick and cloying, rolled underneath your nose in powerful waves. Her back was facing you, though you could tell she knew you were there. She was shirtless, not even wearing a bra—and hey, you wouldn't judge. You'd been there before.
The room was utilitarian in structure. Padded walls. Sterile lights (which had been turned off and replaced with soft glowing lamps instead). A bed. A large desk pushed against the wall. A mini fridge. There was a small, unassuming door, which you knew led to what was maybe the only en-suite bathroom in the entire campus.
A shower could be found there. A sink. Toilet. Trashcan. Simple stuff. You remembered it well from your last heat, a couple of months ago.
The rule was that all omegas could sign in the day before, maybe even two if the need arose, and usually with Yaga, to decorate and scent the space as they wished.
Maki was in her nest, one she had built opposite of the desk.
"Hey!" You chirped, though it had been awkwardly too long to be trying to speak a greeting. "How're doing so far?"
You got a grunt in response. Maybe it meant not good. Maybe it meant what do you think, genius?
She was reading a comic book. The cover looked familiar. Maybe you had read it before. You ambled over to the desk and put down your own things. Some books and homework to pass the time mainly.
The heat room smelled heavily of aloe vera and vanilla. There were undertones of fruit to Maki's scent too. Something exotic. Something you had never tasted before.
Maki wore her scent blockers religiously after she presented. Her scent before was muted that she didn't have to bother. Self consciously, you pressed the pads of your finger against your own scent glands and sighed in relief to see them firmly in tact.
"Do you want this?" You asked, holding up one of your cardigans you'd been wearing religiously over the past few days. Maki's head darted upwards with a speed you didn't think was possible.
She dropped the comic book (couldn't be that engaging) and wordlessly held out her hand. You very pointedly did not look lower than her neck. Because you were Normal and Not a Pervert. And because Maki was trusting you with this. Her very first heat as a late blooming omega.
You tossed the cardigan. Her hand shot out and snatched it from the air.
Maki held the cardigan, fluffy and baby blue, to her face. Her eyes slipped shut and her lips parted. You could hear her taking big, greedy, inhales.
She groaned. "Holy fuck, oh god—"she whispered, yanking her head back from the fabric. Maki rubbed it against the scent glands on her neck. Seconds later, you could smell her scent grow stronger with content. "And its so warm"
"Y-yeah" You mumbled, though you were unsure if she had even heard you. "I tossed in the dryer just before I came...I like warm things for my heats. So I thought it might help"
Again, it didn't look as though she heard you. Maki made a sound, a cross between a groan and a sigh, and tugged your cardigan closer. Like she was trying to strangle herself with it. Or become one with the tightly knit fibers.
Weird. Usually having the scent of a friend nearby calmed the heat. It was why you offered it to her in the first place. Your cardigan seemed to having the opposite effect.
Instead, there was a rosiness to her cheeks. A sheen of desperation in her eyes. You busied yourself with unpacking the rest of the bag. Some bottles of water you put in the fridge, others you lined up neatly on the desk.
"How long until you start heating?" You ask distractedly, dragging your eyes away from a pair of Maki's boxer briefs, damp with slick, discarded right outside of her nest.
She grunts, softly, "I'm heating right now. I have since you got here"
You do not possess Maki's same level of nonchalance. "Huh?!" Your head whips away from the mini fridge to gawk at her. This entire time, you assumed that she was just in the late stages of her pre-heat. "Jeez, Maki! Why didn't you tell me to come sooner?! Aren't you in a lot of pain right now?"
"I took pain meds" She mumbles, and breathes sharply through her nose. "But yeah, kinda hurts"
Sardonically, you roll your eyes. Leave it to make to handle the intense heat-cramps with the same level of nonchalance as pulling out a splinter.
"Well," You start diplomatically, putting the last of the items in the fridge and shutting the little door. "If you need to uhm...you know. Get off. You can. I'm just going to read and catch up on our homework, alright? Brought my noise canceling headphones too"
There was just the one final thing to give her. Just the final, embarrassing hurdle to jump through, and you'd be home free.
Maki's jade colored eyes tracked you across the room , open and curious as your hands grappled in your bag for a small box. "What's that?" she asked, completely ignoring your earlier statement.
"Do you have any heat toys?" You asked, somehow without stammering and combusting right there on the spot.
"No." Maki said, and it was a wonder how she was managing to get through this at all. That was one of the first things Shoko had made her buy. As if sensing your disappointment, she elaborated. "I didn't want to order that shit to the dorms"
"Fair enough" You murmured, because there had been far too many instances of ordering snacks to the dorms, only to have them intercepted by Gojo, of all people. "I brought some! Just in case. A vibrator, a wand...regular dildo....knotting dildo—"
Maki perked up. "Did you use that one?"
"Why would I give you my used sex toy?" You said incredulously, panicked. Did she think you were some kind of creepy pervert? Did she somehow know you were—? Was she disgusted? You wagered a glance at her.
If anything, Maki just looked put out. If you were brave enough to admit it, you would even say she was pouting.
"...oh" Maki said, frowning. "I don't want it then"
"Suit yourself" You mumbled, crossing over to her nest to lay the box of toys just within reach. Just i case. Better safe than sorry, after all.
Again, Maki didn't seem as though she were listening. When you rose to your full height, you noticed that she was staring at you quite intently.
No. Not you. Your neck. Or more specifically, the scent blockers plastered against your throat.
"Take em off" She grunted. And then had enough to tack on a soft, "Please"
You don't quite know what to make of her request. On one hand...it's not as though you pose an actual threat to Maki. You're no alpha—the scent of an omega in heat won't lead you to do anything irrational. And you wouldn't dare try to take advantage of her.
But you're still afraid. Not for Maki, who has the strength of an army. But for yourself.
"Maki—" You start, trying to figure out how to put this to her gently. Omegas are sensitive during their cycles.
"Nevermind" Maki interjects, sounding absolutely crestfallen, scent souring. She rolls onto her side, but not before you catch the expression of intense pain on her face.
Your eyes rove over Maki's nest. It's lacking in...a lot. You think of your own nest. One of Yuta's jackets. Toge's beloved hoodie. One of Kugisaki's skirts. Shoko's scarves and a pair of Gojo's gloves. Yuji's joggers. Even Fushiguro has given you a shirt or two.
The scent of your pack. In the deepest throes of your heats, those scents calm your frazzled mind.
You think of Maki, who has maybe only ever considered her sister Mai as family. Who keeps her peers (and occasionally even you) at arms length.
Heats must be hell for someone like Maki. Someone who scents others when absolutely necessary, touch-starved and unsure of how to ask for it.
So, you rip off the patches.
"Can I come into your nest?" You asked, quietly. Maki's arms were circled around her stomach and she was curled as small as she could.
"Yeah" She grunted, which was probably all she could spare to give you. It was with great effort that she moved, rolling over so that her back pressed against the nest wall—giving you ample room.
Very carefully, you crawled inside.
Quickly, you found yourself becoming used to the image of Maki's naked body. The swell of her breasts, nipples red and puffy, clavicle dipped with a bead of sweat. Her toned stomach and thighs.
"What are you..." Maki swallowed thickly, looking dazed. "Are you wearing anything under that?"
Her fingers gestured at your Sanrio shirt, Pochacco's face so faded he was more of a memory than anything else.
"My bra" You told her honestly, throat bobbing with nerves. "Do you. Uhm. You want it?"
Jerkily, Maki nodded. Aware of the space you took, you carefully removed your shirt, rubbing it against your scent glands for good measure. Her fingers shook as she accepted it; immediately going to drape it nicely over the section of the nest wall that was closest to her head.
Where she'd smell me the strongest, your brain supplied unhelpfully.
You told yourself it made sense, reaching out to tug Maki closer. Your scent must have been comforting to her. Because you were friends. She made a strangely happy sound and then proceeded to slump half on top of you, suddenly drawing you out of your thoughts.
The heat must really be doing a number on her now.
"I hope this is a little bit better for you?" You asked, unsure.
She only curled against your neck, nosing against your scent glands. Eventually, you felt her nod in affirmation before whining out, long and loud. There was such an undertone of pure need in the sound that you felt it as though it were a phantom limb.
You thought of what would soothe you.
Carefully, hesitantly, unsure if you were even allowed, your fingertips skimmed over the impressive muscles of Maki's back. Don't think about it, you ordered yourself, trying not to let arousal bleed through your scent.
It didn't work the way you hoped. Maki arched against your palm and you stopped immediately, which made her curse and cry out into your throat. Seconds later, you felt her panting wetly, wet pussy grinding against your stomach in shaky movements.
"Fuck—hurts so bad" She groaned, shaking. Then she shuddered. "Do you mind—can I...fuck. Can I touch myself?"
Heat shot down your spine like a missile. You sucked in a breath, teeth digging into your bottom lip so hard you tasted blood.
"Yeah" You breathed, sounding winded. "I know it hurts, Maki. Do what you need to, alright?"
Somehow, Maki managed to get even closer. She shifted her leg off of you just so, and slid her fingers down to her cunt. Somehow, you didn't drag your eyes down the length of her body. Somehow, you didn't shove her fingers out of the way, intent to replace them with your own.
The moan of relief she gave would have haunted you worse than any curse. This, you knew to be true.
With her eyes still trained on you, Maki's fingers continued to slide messily over her cunt. No finesse to it. Actions uncoordinated and sloppy. You could only see her forearm and wrist. You promised to look no further.
Held in place by her stare, you tried your best to look encouraging, not aroused. Calm. Maki didn't seem to mind.
Her cunt squelched. Fuck. So loud. How wet was she? Soaking wet. You pictured your sweats and the material of the nest being soaked with her slick.
Sensing the shift in your scent, Maki groaned, wrist speeding up.
Maki groaned your name into your throat, shaking and trembling; moaning loud and reedy.
"Y-yeah?" You asked, voice somewhat hoarse.
"How do you do it?" She asked, taking her face out of your neck long enough for her eyes to flicker upwards to meet yours.
You screwed your eyes shut. Tightly. "How do I get myself off?" Just the heat, you told yourself. She's just desperate because of her heat.
"Yeah" Maki sighed in pleasure. Shockingly, she darted forward and liked a bold stripe up your scent gland. "Mmm. Sweet. I like it" She did it again.
Oh, fuck. You felt yourself spinning far out of control. Too quickly to stop. Somehow the lesser of two evils became answering her earlier proposed question. Either that, or continue to let her lap at your glands as though you two were mates.
Easier said than done. "I–uh. Oh. I j-just...use my fingers. Like you're doing right now. I usually put them insid—this is so embarrassing"
"You do it a lot?" Maki asked next, choking on a moan. "You fuck your pussy with your fingers a lot?"
Oh my god. "I—yeah"
Her nose dipped against your scent gland again.
"Bet you get so wet" She slurred quietly. "Wanna taste."
"Please don't say that" You gritted out, pleading. You didn't want to mess this up. You thought of how Maki wasn't in her right mind. Not really. It was the heat. The scent of someone close and available. Nothing more. What would she say when this was all over? Probably nothing nice.
"If you need to get off" Maki slurred, throwing your earlier words back into your face. "You can"
"It's fine" You said; too quickly. "I'm fine"
She didn't even pretend to believe you. Her teeth sank into her throat. "Can I watch?" Her voice was syrupy sweet between you. "Wanna watch, omega"
You closed your eyes just as Maki came with a shuddered curse. She shook and slumped against you, but immediately you knew it wouldn't be enough.
But your mind focused instead on how she called out to you. Not an alpha. When she saw you, Maki didn't see an alpha. She saw you. An omega.
And she wanted you anyway.
This was wrong. You were doing it all wrong. When you agreed to assist her with her heat, you hadn't expected to be in her next. For her to be pawing at your breasts and chuffing against your throat, pleading, saying—pleasepleaseplease, let me see.
"Okay, fin-fine—" You whined, shimmying out of your bottoms. You made move to throw them out of the nest. But Maki's hand reached over you with a proper omega hiss; snatching them out of midair and laying them somewhere behind her.
A pulse of want at the display of approval shot down your body and curled down in your lower stomach. It wouldn't take much for you to cum, you knew that. Not after everything you'd seen.
"Kept thinking about it," Maki murmured, hips jerking against your thigh; smearing slick and cum onto your skin. You tried not to think of the implications. "You said you liked it. Wanna know how to make you feel good"
You couldn't hear another second of this. Without much preamble, you pushed two fingers into your cunt with a sharp inhale, desperate to take the edge off. It had the opposite effect, making things worse because it wasn't enough.
"Can you—?" You started, but stopped. You didn't need to finish. Somehow Maki knew what you wanted. You slipped a third finger inside of yourself as Maki tore through the package and thrust the dildo into your hand.
Any other time, you would drew it out. But you didn't have it in you to tease yourself. Not with the need burning in your blood. Not with Maki's steely green eyes piercing you.
Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, throat bobbing as you choked on a series of whiny cries. You could think of nothing but the sheer stretch, perfect, just the way you liked. You were so wet there wasn't an ounce of resistance.
You moaned, clenching around the toy, allowing yourself to slip into fantasies you only imagined during the rare hours in the dark you could squirrel away. Except now, you didn't have to wondered what Maki sounded like when she came. Or what she looked like when she was feeling good. You didn't have to imagine. She had already shown you.
"Close" You choked, a half moan this time.
What surprised you was that Maki had answered you in kind, with a shaky moan of her own.
Almost as if you had forgotten she was there. No. That wasn't the right word. You could never forget she was there. You could never forget who you were doing this with.
It was more like you had let your guard down. In fact; your eyes were closer. They flew open.
Maki was right fucking there. Right between your legs.
There was a pillow between her own. Her face was close, but her hand was closer. Fuck. More slick dribbled out of your pussy. When your eyes met, Maki humped into the pillow with a sharp whine.
"Maki?"
"Hm?"
You stuttered on a moan as her hand batted yours out of the way, nudging the silicone cock further into your cunt. An angle you normally would have shied away from. When your cries rose in pitch, thighs trembling; Maki thrust against that spot relentlessly.
If you weren't so desperate to cum, you would like to think you would have done more to stop her. To remind her of your societal second genders. What you two were doing now, went far beyond what was expected for two omegas.
"What're–haaah–oh god, yeah, mmh" You moaned shakily, trying to blink through the haze. "Mak—"
"Need to" Maki answered breathlessly, drawing herself up your body while her hand continued to pump the fake cock in and out of your cunt. "I don't get it either. But fuck, I need to make you cum. Okay? Can I make you cum, omega?"
There it was again.
Your thighs threatened to clamp shut. You tried holding yourself back. Tried not to sound desperate and needy. This wasn't about you. You were supposed to be helping Maki.
"No no no no" Maki slurred, nosing against your scent gland, sucking and nipping at it, which only made you wetter. You must have said some of it out loud, because she whined in distress. "Wanna make you feel good. Gotta pr—prove myself"
"G-going—" You were trying to warn her, but you couldn't get the rest of the words out. Your climax slammed into you like a train, clawing at Maki's biceps and shoulders for purchase, whining and keening.
Maki seemed accepting of the treatment, of the pain. No, proud of it. To take the brunt of your pleasure and bear the marks on her body. Not even seconds later, she was joining you.
She slumped against you then, tossing the pillow aside, nosing at your scent gland. Utterly content and sated for now.
"My omega" She said, slightly dazed, but still wholly herself.
It was then that you realized that Maki was more in control of her heat than you realized.
my first entry for @iwaasfairy 's Cherry Velvet collab! yan megumi is one of my fave yanderes ever.
You thought yourself psychic. A ten year old girl with the power to charm all of the stray cats and dogs in the neighborhood. But as you stood there, blood dripping down your arm, you could only think of how much it hurt.
Your mother dug underneath the sink cabinets for the shoddy first aid kit, directing you to sit on the toilet seat. "How many times have I told you to leave those mean old dogs alone?"
"They've never bitten me before" Was your response, hissing through your teeth―the sound tapering off into a low whine as the alcohol made contact with the open wound.
It was the large black and white one. Though the white of its fur was so dirty it looked more gray than anything else. You had nicknamed the old hound Shadow, because it seemed to have an odd habit of slinking around at night―creeping through the shadows like he was apart of them.
"All dogs can bite, honey" Your mother said, pressing her lips to your forehead in a chaste kiss.
"Not Shadow" Was your soft protest, blinking away tears. You don't know how it happened. You've known Shadow the longest. Fond of following behind him as he took you through the city. And he never once seemed to mind being accompanied by a tottering child.
Your mother regarded you with a critical eye. It was awesome, having a nurse for a mom. Even if she was always gone, you knew she was off saving peoples lives everyday. Yours too. She always helped with your booboos and scratches and even gave you a lollipop after each one. Just as the doctor would. She handed you one now, butterscotch flavored as her mind seemed to wander.
A pit of anxiety formed at the bottom of your stomach. You knew what they did to dogs who bit people. And you didn't want anything bad to happen to Shadow.
"Mom. Don't let them put him down. Please don't" You pleaded suddenly, pulling on her arm with the hand of your uninjured arm. You knew Shadow didn't mean to do it. He was just...you don't know, exactly. But he wouldn't do it to you again. You would just need to be more careful around him. Not provoke him as much.
"You could have gotten real sick" Your mother began, crossing her arms and staring at you impassively. "Rabies is deadly, baby. You know I just want to keep you safe"
"I don't have rabies" You mumbled, staring down at your feet. "I'm fine. Please don't hurt Shadow"
Your mother did not bother to deign that with a response. You could feel her looking you over for a handful of moments. And then she left, as simple as that.
You had no idea why you thought of that moment, suddenly. Perhaps it had to do with Megumi sitting at your dining room table―just barely refraining from shoving food into his mouth.
"Is it good?" You asked, sitting beside him, teasing tone of voice.
Megumi looked up, only for a second or two, before going back to his food. "You know it is"
He was a stray. Megumi, you mean. Drifting in and out of your life. The visits got more sporadic around high school, when your best friend Tsumiki, fell into her coma. It seems that just when you think Megumi won't visit anymore, he shows up to darken your doorstep. You don't really understand why he does it. He knows he's welcome anytime. Your mom practically raised you both since his guardian was rarely in the picture.
You prop your cheek onto your palm, elbow pressed against the table. You do not bother to hide the fact that you're staring. Comparing the man you see to the teen you remember seeing a year, maybe two, back. A habit you've picked up from Megumi himself, ironically―who you often catch staring back.
"What happened here?" You ask softly, gently tapping a scar on the side of his jaw. You suck your teeth. "Looks like it hurt"
Megumi regards you with a look, like he's debating on whether or not to share it with you. "Training. With Gojo"
"Training? What for?" You ask, quirking a brow. "I thought you had bodyguards"
"Do you seem them around anywhere?" Is the soft reply, eyes drifting back down to his empty plate. He looks almost forlorn, pouty. Like he can't believe he finished it all that quickly. "Is there anymore?"
"You brat" You mumble fondly, tousling his hair. "I'm older than you. You should respect me."
"I do respect you" Megumi argues, flushing. "Is there anymore?" He repeats, more impatient. It seems wherever he's been these past two years hasn't done anything for his shit manners.
"Nope. The rest is for Shigeo" You chirp.
"Shigeo?"
"My boyfriend" You inform him cheerily. Megumi doesn't say anything for a long while. Lifts those sullen deep blue eyes and stares at you. "What?"
"Nothing" Is the reply, mouth twisting into a frown. Absolutely not 'nothing'. "You should dump him. He's not good enough for you"
You make an undignified sound, pushing at him playfully. He doesn't even budge. "What! You haven't even met him yet. You can't say that"
"Say what? Who are you talking to?" Is Shigeo's reply, rounding the corner in nothing but a pair of sweatpants. His eyes seem to skip over you entirely, landing on Megumi. You've always thought he had pretty eyes. Dark brown, almost black. Really pretty in the sunlight. They widen now―staring at your stray with caution that borders on fear.
Strange.
"This is Megumi!" You chirp, planting a kiss onto his cheek. You expect him to grumble, or push you away. Megumi hates it when you 'baby him'. But he does not. If anything, he leans into it. "I told you about him, remember?"
Megumi's eyes shift up towards Shigeo. Staring. He's just as protective over you as you are of him. Except Megumi is a lot more intimidating to other people.
"You said he was a 'cute kid'" Is the muttered reply from Shigeo, and tension falls over the room.
"I am cute" Megumi says, who has never really appreciated people talking about him as if he weren't there. His arm loops around your waist and he tugs you in close. You're surprised when moments later, you feel Megumi's lips against your cheek, a smidge too close to your mouth. "Not a kid, though"
Shigeo's eyes dart down to your cheek. You can tell he isn't happy, either. What on Earth is happening right now?
A nervous laugh bubbles out of you, desperate to smooth...whatever this is, over. But before you can say anything, Megumi is beating you to it.
"Can I stay for a few days?" He asks "I want to visit Tsumiki. And your mom, too. She's been sending me passive aggressive texts lately. If I don't show up she might track me down"
You don't know why he asks. Megumi should know he's welcome anytime. You always have room for him. "The guest room is yours. Stay as long as you need."
You stand, taking Megumi's plate and your own as well to the sink. Shigeo's eyes land on you―burning like a laser. "And she wouldn't send you so many messages if you just came around more" You don't both to mask the hurt in your voice.
Seconds later, Megumi is at your side. You stand shoulder to shoulder. This is the closeness you crave. The dishes are pulled from your hands. Megumi stares. And stares. And stares. "Let's visit Tsumiki today, and your mom tomorrow. The third day will be for just us"
"I have work" You grumble.
"Don't I always pay for everything when I'm here?" Megumi asks, leveling you flat with the depth of his gaze. "Why are you bringing that up now?"
"Well, forgive me, it has been two years so my mind is little fuzzy on the details" You snap, snatching the plate back.
Megumi tsks at you, murmuring, Who's acting like a brat now? before tugging you into a hug. You try to fight it, but Megumi's strength always manages to catch you by surprise. No matter how many years you've spent roughhousing with him, and it's more clear at times like these, that you only win because he lets you.
His chin hooks over your shoulder, arms wrapping around your middle and pulling you in tight. Shigeo's still standing there, and you only realize that he is because there's a third set of footprints when there should only be two.
The thought makes you feel guilty immediately for thinking it.
"I'm sorry I wasn't here for you" Megumi whispers into your ear. "I'll explain it to you someday. Just let me stay here for three days―"
"A week." You demand, holding him just as tight. Like you'll stop breathing entirely if he lets you go. "You better stay for a whole week. Or I'll never forgive you. Ever" A lie. He knows you're lying. You'd forgiven him the moment you opened the door and saw him standing there.
There's a chuff of laughter in your ear. Megumi's hand strokes down your back. "Okay. Whatever you want"
It's a promise Megumi can't keep. You know that, you're sure he knows it too. He's never stayed for that long before. He's in for a day, two or three at most. And then he's gone again. A note on the table next to a stack of crisp bills. And things aren't like they were when you were both in high school. You remember being in such a rush to grow up, to be an adult, independent and free. What you would give, to have things be so simple again.
Shigero corners you back on your way from the bathroom. There's a towel wrapped around your body, but it does little to combat the chill from the air, even though you dried off from the shower in your bathroom.
"I don't like him" Shigeo mutters, watching as you get dressed. "I don't want you around him"
That makes you pause, glancing at his reflection from your vanity mirror. "...why?"
"Why?" Shigeo repeats, incredulous, like you're the one being unreasonable. His brows jump to his forehead, and there's a crease, right in the middle. You want to smooth it out with your thumb. "He's too close to you"
"I've known Megumi since he was eight." You tell him, like you've told him a thousand times already. Shigeo's arms cross over his chest, unimpressed. "What? You seriously want me to go in there and tell him to just go back to wherever it is he came from?"
The flat look on your boyfriends face is the obvious answer.
Disgust crawls up your throat. You would never. "...I'm all he has left. I promised Tsumiki I would take care of him. I can't just―I'm not going to just abandon him."
"Fine." Is all Shigeo says, after a long while. "Tell your mom I said hello"
You raise your brows in surprise. "You aren't coming?"
"Some of us can't just call out of work" Shigeo says pointedly and to that, you say nothing.
When Megumi was 16, Tsumiki fell into a coma. The details around that time are fuzzy―moreso because you don't want to remember more than you have to, rather than some failure of your memory itself.
You remember the exact day it happened. Where you were (home; in the kitchen), what you were doing (helping your mom with dinner), what you wore (one of Tsumiki's faded shirts―abandoned after some sleepover a few years back and shorts).
It was strange, because Megumi called. At that age, you supposed it was normal for kids to change from the sweetness of youth to some false, nonchalant thing where it was suddenly embarrassing to show emotion. Megumi never called, is the point. He texted, maybe, but he never called.
Not that it mattered much to you. You saw enough of Megumi in person for that not to matter. Nearly everyday, Tsumiki was at your house―dragging her little brother along with her. He liked to hole up in the dining room and do his homework, or sometimes he wouldn't show up at all. A lot of time, Megumi was suspended. Too much fighting. It was a miracle that he hadn't been expelled.
Once, she said the estate where they lived at with Gojo was too big, too empty. You never pried. It wasn't your place to. Clearly they had no parents and this Gojo figure popped in and out, but gave them a much nicer place to stay. Even now, you don't know the full story of how the Fushiguro siblings came to be in Gojo-san's care, but you've met the man yourself a scant number of times. He rubs you the wrong way.
"Have you visited her? Since you've been gone?" You ask, standing shoulder to shoulder with Megumi once more. There's a bouquet of store-bought flowers in your hand. There's one in Megumi's as well.
"No" Is the reply, and you figured he hadn't. His eyes won't even look down at her headstone.
It had taken months for you to even get the courage to do that.
"Couldn't go without you" He says, looking at you. His eyes are rimmed red with unshed tears. You know you aren't faring much better. "I was scared"
His words pull a sound of sympathy from you. Tsumiki had been in a coma for two years. You and Megumi visited her often. She was your best friend. She knew you better than anyone else. And suddenly she was ripped away from you. In an instant, half of you was missing.
Strange, because the day he called, the two of you had made plans to drag Megumi off to the fair. The two of you had been up the whole night, chatting about the food you would eat and how best to corner him into getting matching face paint. You don't remember if you cancelled the tickets or not. You don't remember anything, except crying a lot.
Your hand closes around his wrist. "There's nothing to be scared of Megumi. It's just Tsumiki"
His hand moves down, and curls tightly around your own. With a wince, you break free―twining your fingers together instead. Even when the two of you visited her in the hospital, Megumi rarely looked at Tsumiki. He stood off to the side, or sat in one of the chairs, and listened to you recount whatever had happened in your life. You always suspected that he visited her often on his own, but, again, you never thought it right to ask.
"I can't" He breathed quietly, defeated. His eyes looked to you, imploringly. "I can't"
Quietly, you shush him. You step closer, gathering both bouquets in a single hand. The last time you had visited Tsumiki had been a month ago. The flowers you left there had long since wilted. But there were no remains. Maybe the wind had blown away the stems. Maybe there was a groundskeeper or something, who threw them away. Hopefully, if there was one, they had spared a few minutes at her grave.
Megumi's face pushes its way into your neck. A few moments later, the tears come. Soft, at first, then hiccups and sobs. He's malleable like this, and you manage to get him on the ground. The bone of his chin digs into your shoulder almost painfully. You've got your arms around him, holding him close.
The flowers are taken from your fingers. Megumi has to pry them away, and you don't realize how tight a grip you have on the stems until he does.
"Hi, 'Miki" Megumi says, voice clogged wet with tears. "Sorry. For not visiting. And for being such a shit little brother. I should've been better"
"Hey, no, don't say that" You mumble through tears of your own. You pull back from the hug, staring at him. "I should hit you for saying something like that. Tsumiki would have done it"
A laugh. There's little mirth in it. "She would've thrown the flowers at me, instead"
You join him. There isn't much joy in your laugh either. "Yeah. She wouldn't have missed, either"
"You're going to be just fine" You tell him, much later, back at the house. Visiting Tsumiki always zaps your energy. Leaves you depleted and exhausted. Shigeo never knows how to really help, when you get like this. Never knows what to do in the random boughts of depression you get around her birthday, or the anniversary of her death. You haven't been together long enough for him to learn you that way.
Megumi's curled protectively around you. This time, you aren't alone. Down in your bones you know that Megumi just knows exactly what you need. You're all he's got left, and you know he's learned you like the back of his hand because of it.
But Megumi's exhausted too. He's sluggish, craning down slow to kiss your nose. And again on your cheek, where he kissed you this morning. His hand finds yours. "I'll be better. I promise."
Your face scrunches into one of confusion. "You don't have to be"
A hum.
"I have to. You're replacing me, apparently" He says, squeezing you tight, voice murmured and tinged with exhaustion―yet alert. Succinct and to the point, as always. Your eyes widen. His nose is cold when it prsses into your cheek. His lips hover above your mouth, blue eyes hooded, boring into you.
Panicked, you turn your face to the side. Megumi's mouth presses against the corner of your mouth instead. There's a moment of prolonged silence, heart thudding in your chest. His hand strokes up and down your back. Idly, biding his time.
You open your mouth to speak. Megumi cuts you off. His eyes rake over your face. "Is it Shigeo?"
Swallowing, you shake your head. You think of him as your little brother. You always have.
Megumi seems to see this written all over your face. "I think it is Shigeo" He says, after a minute, tucking you against his chest―despite the way you protest. He clicks his tongue at you, like you're nothing more than a fussy kitten. "Stop moving. You're tired, aren't you? Take a nap."
You are. But having to obey like this feels demeaning, in a way. You're a grown woman. And Megumi's younger than you anyway. Being coddled isn't so fun when you're on the receiving end of it. Especially when there are more pressing things you want to talk about.
"He's not good enough for you" He says, after a while. Even without looking down to check, Megumi know you aren't sleep. How many sleepless nights have you spent, just like this, tethered to each other like two ships? His lips ghost your ear. "You think I'm keeping secrets? I'm not the only one"
The sun shines overhead, though you are protected from its rays by the shade of tree. It isn't often that you go to the Gojo estate—and the sheer luxury of everything surprises you.
You've never seen a single person own so much land before. The foyer alone is bigger than most of you and your mom's apartment combined. Everything screams of generations of wealth and power. The reflections shine so brightly that you can see yourself clearly in them.
The Gojo estate makes it quite clear that you don't belong there. It creeped you out as a child and you quickly understood why Tsumiki never wanted to be there. Why she spent so many nights sleeping over at yours, instead. It scares you now. But since Tsumiki's fallen ill...it's the only place you know you can find Megumi.
He's here with you now. The grass tickles your cheek. The wind blows. And Megumi is here. Right where he should be. The place doesn't matter that much anymore—as long as he's there with you.
Even this place, a gilded cage, is nothing too scary with Megumi insisting its okay.
It's time for you to start thinking about college soon. Well, the time for that was actually at the beginning of the year. But everyone seemed to understand why school wasn't so much of a priority to you at the time.
Your hands scratch through Megumi's soft hair. He's practically boneless where his head is propped onto your stomach—phone held above his head as he taps furiously at the screen. Some sort if mobile game thats popular with the second years.
You feel like you're running out of time. Everyone had been patient in the beginning. They don't seem to understand that what you need is time. Life has moved on for them but they can't understand why it hasn't for you. It makes you feel bitter and helpless.
Tsumiki was friendly with everyone. But she'll never mean as much to you as she does to them. As a third year, you're constantly plagued with the worry that she'll never wake up. What if she wakes up and you're not there?
You wonder is Megumi thinks the same. If he does, he does an excellent job at hiding it. You can't tell who's being strong for who—you or him.
"Hey. Megumi" You say, peering down at him. He shuts off his phone and tosses it to the side and gives you all of his attention. He isn't like Tsumiki, not at all. You like that about him. "I'm thinking about college"
Megumi doesn't say anything for a while. "You're leaving?"
"Not far" You explain, laughing nervously. "I don't think I'm cut out for something like tha–"
"I think you are" He says, staring at you. You laugh nervously, pulling at the collar of your uniform shirt and look anywhere else.
When you look back, Megumi is still staring.
"But my mom is here. You're here." You pause, swallowing. "Tsumiki is here"
"Do you want me to tell you to stay?" Megumi asks, sounding annoyed. Nothing like Tsumiki at all. None of her gentleness and none of her kindness. Megumi is all sharp, jagged edges with only the occasional smooth surface.
You make an undignified noise. "I would like some emotional support! I don't know what to do"
Leaving means moving on. Staying means...just that.
"Stay or go" Megumi begins. His hand splays on your lower stomach. Your muscles twitch and buck nervously, surprisingly ticklish. "I know it won't be the last time I see you. You're like a cockroach. We're going to be together forever"
His voice is dry and flat. You can't tell if it's a good thing or a bad one.
Then you feel it ; his thumb pressing in your belly button, and his forefinger pressing lower. Too low. His forefinger drags and presses lower, considering.
What. "What are you doing?" You ask, stomach clenching at the pressure. Megumi's head turns so that his eyes are staring straight into yours. "Stop. that tickles"
"It'll fit" Is all he says, monotone as always.
"Huh?" A beat passes. "Wait a minu—did you just call me a cockroach?! You are seriously the worst, Megumi! I'm older than you. Show some respect!"
A sigh. A moment later his hand is gone completely.
"You're so weird" He says, with a huff, rolling his eyes.
"Me?" You screech, loudly, pinching the side of his neck. He makes a soft, pained noise. Good, you think. That should teach him a thing or two.
The knife cracks down on the ginger root, splitting it. Too much force used, if the way the cutting board shifts against the counters is any clue on the matter. The smell wafts up into your nose, along with the spices you've put aside.
You think I'm keeping secrets? Yes, of course he is. Again, you cut through the ginger. There's plenty Megumi isn't telling you. And you're only human. Of course you're curious about them. But he wouldn't like it if you were to going spying around behind his back. So you don't.
Whatever it is Megumi and Tsumiki went through before you met them is traumatic enough for neither of them to mention it. The closer you grew to her, the more you realized that a majority of her personality was just...fabricated. She was sweet around everyone else, cordial, kind. Easy for nearly every boy in your grade to have a crush on.
But around you―she's different. She pushes you out of the way to get first dibs on the remote. Steals sips of your juice boxes and deems it the "Best Friend Tax". Cries into your shoulder when she's screamed herself awake from nightmares. Holds your hand and tells you that you're the only real family she has, besides her sour faced brother.
Flinches sometimes, hiding close behind you, whenever someone whispers tales of the Yakuza. Some hitting too close to home, you suspected. You had asked your mom about it, once.
"Some things, baby, leave a mark on us, for a long time. Just don't bring it up if she looks uncomfortable" She told you, kissing your cheek.
Your mom started inviting the Fushiguros over a lot more after that.
"Woah!" Shigeo chuckles, crossing into the kitchen. You perk to attention at the sound of his voice. "What did I do this time?"
Your hand holding the knife pauses. "What?" You think I'm keeping secrets? I'm not the only one.
"Sweetheart" He says, swooping in and kissing your cheek. Again, on your mouth. "There's nothing left of that ginger besides a paste. Did I forget to take the trash out again?"
You stare down at the cutting board, slightly confused. But Shigeo is right. The ginger you had been dicing is nothing more than a wet mush. Your thoughts had just...ran away with you.
The day after Megumi tried to kiss you, he took you out shopping. His way of apologizing, you think. You both visited a cute cafe you mentioned wanting to try but neither you nor Shigeo ever having the time. The barista at the counter assumed you and Megumi were a couple. You tried to say otherwise, but Megumi had just kissed the side of your head and thanked her.
Neither of you had brought up what happened the day before. You, because you're terrified of where this is heading and unsure of how to stop it. And Megumi, not because he's afraid, but because you know he's allowing you the time to process. He'll force you to face whatever this is, and when he does―you know you won't have time to run or stall.
You had forgotten about it all, nearly. Until you stepped back into the apartment to Shigeo sitting on the couch, watching reruns of his favorite show. The next morning, he was gone. A small note with his new number on it, and that was all.
I'm not the only one. The words repeat in your head, over and over again. What could Shigeo possibly be hiding from you?
"Are you cheating on me?" You ask, voice solemn and serious, staring down at your chopped vegetables. You don't think its that. But.
"No" Shigeo says, immediately. Not a lie, then. "Are you?"
A look of confusion befalls you. "Why would I cheat on you?"
A noncommittal hum. He takes a seat at the dining room table and observes you as you work.
"Usually if someone asks about something as serious as cheating, it's because they're guilty" Shigeo says, carefully, eying you. You realize, with a dawning sense of horror, that is is Shigeo who doesn't believe you.
"I'm not" You repeat, stressed. Your voice sounds high and whittled. This is about Megumi, you know it is. Why is he turning this on you, all of a sudden? " I'm not. Is there...anything else?"
Shigeo makes a soft noise. Elaborate.
"Is there anything else that you're keeping from me?" You ask, looking at him from over the stove now.
There's a pregnant pause. His eyes sweep left, and then right. Subtle. He isn't even aware that he's doing it. "No. There's not."
He's lying.
He lied to you. You wonder if he knows that you know. Maybe. He sits there, silent, eyes suddenly interested into the magnets you keep on the fridge.
Dinner is a quiet, awkward, affair. Both of you poke at your food. Conversation is brief, short, stilted. You wish Megumi was there. His silence, at least, is a comfort to you. Something you're used to. You aren't used to this at all.
You met Shigeo at the grocery store. A year and a half ago.
It was in the laundry aisle. He stood there, in front of the laundry detergents―taking entirely too long to debate between them when really he should have just grabbed one and went on about his business. You huffed, annoyed, and had coughed under your breath. Trying to get him to hurry it up.
He had turned around to apologize, and both of you just stared at one another. He asked you out right there. And the rest was history, as they say. In all of the time that you've known Shigeo, he's never really been a good liar. He always...looks around. As if he's waiting for someone else to interrupt. Or for the conversation to change. And when he realizes that no one's coming, he lies.
You and Shigeo are both honest people. You don't make a habit of lying. And you don't think he does either. A soft groan passes your lips. Actually―you aren't sure of anything anymore. It's been a month. There's been no sign of Megumi. You haven't texted him and it's like the universe is making you suffer greatly for it.
The house is tense and rolling with energy. Words unsaid. Fights over petty things the two of you had never bothered to fight about before.
Everything is a thinly-veiled insult now. Shigeo constantly alludes to you cheating. With Megumi. Everything is about Megumi now. He watches you closely, like he doesn't trust you to go to the bathroom on your own or else you'll cheat on him again. You haven't cheated at all. Sometimes, you want to tell him what happened that day. When he almost kissed you. You want to tell him that you turned Megumi down, that you refused. For him.
But you don't. You're afraid that if you do, it'll give your boyfriend another reason not to trust you. That the insults and passive aggressive behavior will get worse. And if he knows that what Megumi feels towards you is some misplaced feelings, he'll use it as justification for his actions.
You can't take much more of this. It's gotten to the point where you dawdle coming home from work, as you are now. And you've never been one to do that. Always among the first to clock out when your shift at the library ends. But, lately, you don't like being there. A place that you once considered your safe haven feels the complete opposite. You suppose, no one really tells you about that, once you move in with someone. There's really nowhere to go if the two of you start fighting.
Everything becomes barbed, sharp, dangerous. Everything becomes a shouting match and ends with you crying in the shower because you're just so tired.
You pause outside of your front door, arms full with two large paper bags. You don't want to go in. But you've ran off to the grocery store every day this week. If you do it again, Shigeo will have something to say about it. Sighing, your head thunks against the door.
You nearly trip and fall, when the door swings right open. The door you swore you locked before you left.
Megumi is sitting on your couch. That's the first thing you notice. He's wearing a suit. The last time you remember Megumi wearing a suit was at Tsumiki's funeral. The suit jacket is tossed over the couch, like he's been here a while.
Megumi is not the only one in your living room.
"Sh―Shigeo?" Your voice is a quiet wobble, eyes skittering over your boyfriend's limp form. His face is a smattering of blood and bruises and his right eye is swollen. Megumi's hands are no stranger to violence, but there isn't a drop of blood on them.
Your entire living room, and parts of the kitchen too, are just completely trashed. The coffee table is turned over, shards of glass all over the floor. Books and magazines and a flurry of destruction everywhere.
There are three men present that you don't recognize. Two stand next to Shigeo, on both sides of him. The third next to the couch, on the far end.
Your boyfriend's head lifts slightly, to the sound of your voice. A beat too late. You're just relieved to see that he's alive. The bags in your arms drop to the ground and you rush over to him, breathing heavy.
"What...what did you do to him?" You ask, wheeling around to face Megumi. Your hand lands on Shigeo's shoulder. He moves, but only to flinch backwards. There are tears springing in your eyes. You reach up a hand to brush them away.
"You told me she would come home much later" Is Megumi's murmured reply, uttered not towards you, but to your boyfriend. "If you'll lie about something as minor as that, Hayashi Takeo , you'll lie about anything―won't you? Your name, your age, your occupation"
"I-I, swear" Your boyfriend slurs. Halfway through that he's starts coughing up blood. It spittles out of his mouth like a dog with rabies, clinging to his teeth and gums. "I'm not―I'm not lying. It's there. All of it"
"...Shigeo?" He doesn't answer. Fearfully, you fold your hands over your heart. When you take a step back, your foot crunches glass beneath it. You look towards the only person who you know will give you answers. "Megumi?"
His eyes snap towards you immediately. They are hard, and impassive and very angry. In all of the years you have known him, Megumi has never truly been angry with you. Miffed, annoyed. But never angry. Slowly, his eyes soften.
"I didn't want to do this here" Megumi says, voice gentle and quiet like it used to be, years ago, when he found you crying your eyes out on some random bench at the hospital. His eyes flicker down to his watch. "Let's go get some ice cream"
Dumbly, you shake your head. You step closer to Shigeo, hands bunching around the bloodied fabric of his work shirt. His body is warm with heat. "No. Y-you're gonna kill him"
"Did I tell them to kill you, Hayashi?" Megumi asks, glancing at your boyfriend with a look so cold its scathingly hot in its fury.
Shi―Takeo, shakes his head. His hair falls into his eyes, obscuring them from your view.
Megumi hums, satisfied. There's a sharp glint in his eye. You've never been more afraid in your life. "What did I tell them to do to you?"
"To teach―to teach me a lesson"
"Why?" Your heart pounds in your chest. You're crying, you think. Making soft, scared, hiccuping little noises.
"Cause I st-stole from you" Takeo slurs.
"How much?" Megumi asks, voice thin and hard. Takeo doesn't say anything. He gestures towards the man on the right, just a lift of his eyebrows and you turn away just as your boyfriend is struck across the face. You squeeze your eyes shut at the way his breath leaves him in short, gasps. The sound of his spit and blood spilling across the floor and the way he sounds when he's struck―a grunt tumbling into a groan. "How. Much?"
"A mi...million―yen" Is the response, and your heart sinks to your stomach. You gasp, taking a step back, tripping over the leg of what must have once been your coffee table. Just as you're about to topple over and fall, a hand latches onto your upper arm, keeping you upright. It's one of the men you don't recognize. No, it's one of Megumi's...lackeys? Henchmen.
One look from your childhood best friend has the hand releasing from your upper arm. You can feel him freeze up behind you, as if he's afraid.
Megumi stands, and grabs his suit jacket from the couch. "Let's go for that ice-cream now, okay?"
He isn't asking. You spare one last look at Takeo, before a click of his tongue has you scurrying forwards. Megumi's hand slithers down to twine your fingers together. He squeezes. You know you have to squeeze back. So you do. His hand is cold. The smell of his soap wafts into your nose. Even now, your body tilts into his direction, staying close.
Even now―you're comforted by his presence.
The next time Tsumiki asks you for a favor, you're going to actually listen to her before you agree. She took advantage of your daydreaming and pushed you into a stressful situation on purpose!
You're going to kill her. "Uhm. Hello. T-Tsumiki sent me. We're friends from school. I have Megumi's homework?"
You had known that Tsumiki was rich. Everyone did. A few of your classmates had even claimed to have seen her house once or twice. But their accounts never lined up, so you just assumed they were rumors.
"Let her in" Says the bodyguard on the right. They wore black suits, even in the sun, and didn't seem to sweat at all. Your mind still spins over the sheer notion that Tsumiki's house has bodyguards. Not one, not two. But a lot of them, stationed around the property. Even though there's a fancy gate which would keep out even the most determined trespassers. "I recognize this one"
Your face morphs into one of confusion. You've never seen this man a day in your life. But you don't want to say anything. The men step aside. Another bodyguard comes, seemingly from thin air, and begins to march you towards the main building.
There are a lot of other, smaller buildings, littered about. Everything is done in the traditional Japanese style. It looks like something from a history book. You wonder just how old this place is. Everyone you've seen as you pass by is dressed impeccably, which makes you feel underdressed.
"The young master is inside" Says the man suddenly, pointing towards a set of doors. Before you can even open your mouth to thank him for the assistance, he's turning around and leaving.
Megumi is sitting on one of the couches, watching TV. He doesn't turn when the door opens.
You skip over to him, merry grin on your face, peering over the back of the couch. Then think better of it at the last second and stand straight again. This isn't your house, maybe there's a rule about hanging on the back of couches that you don't know about. "Hi! Tsumiki made me bring you all of the work you missed from your classes because you got suspended―"
Oh. He looks terrible.
"Fighting again?" You ask quietly, words dying in your throat whenever he turns to face you. There's a smattering of bruises on his face, a cut that had probably been bleeding, before. It looks like it hurts. "Megumi―I thought you said you would stop fighti―"
"They started it" Megumi bites out, eyeing you warily when you sit down beside him on the couch.
"What did they say this time?" You ask with a roll of your eyes. Megumi isn't exactly known for his everlasting patience and serenity. Even though you've been friends with Tsumiki (and Megumi because the two of them are a package deal) for years, you still mess up yourself from time to time. "Sorry, but teasing you for being rich isn't exactly a good enough excuse to―"
"They were talking shit about Tsumiki" He says, and your mouth clamps shut.
"Well...I can't exactly blame you for that now" You say sheepishly, with a grin, clapping him on the shoulder. "Good job for defending your sister!"
"What happened to 'talking through my problems'?" Your eyebrow twitches. Seriously, how can a mere middle-schooler have so much attitude. You were never like him at your age!
"Anyone who talks badly about Tsumiki deserves it" You tell him, putting your hands onto your knees. "Besides. She's your family. You two only have each other. You protect her and she protects you. Just like me and mom"
No one talks badly about your mom. But if she were, you'd like to think you were strong enough to beat them all up.
Megumi is silent for a minute. "I don't just have Tsumiki. Anymore"
Tears well up in your eyes. You know that the second one falls, Megumi's going to be out of there. He's allergic to showing affection, you think. So you sniffle instead. Megumi groans and predictably begins moving away.
"Well!" You snap at him, faux annoyed. "It's just my allergies! I'm allergic to uhm...to uhm...to dust! You should fire your housekeeper. What if I die on the spot from the severity?"
"You can't die from dust allergies" Megumi says drily "What are they even teaching you?"
"You can so too!" You protest, uncaring of how childish you sound. To be honest, you aren't even sure if that's possible. But no way are you letting him think that he's right. A series of exaggerated coughs and fake sneezes follow, hammering in your point. "My mom's a nurse. So I'm pretty sure I know more than you, you brat!"
"I take it back" Megumi grouses "You are so annoying. No―get off of me, I don't want a hug"
"Why are you sitting so far away?" Megumi asks, eyeing you carefully. You sit on the far end of the park bench, a loose cardigan around your shoulders to combat the chill. "I'm not going to hurt you"
"You hurt Shigeo" You say, staring down into your ice cream.
Megumi makes a disgruntled sound. "Takeo. The man I hurt was Takeo. He's been lying to you your entire relationship and you're still defending him?"
The words make you flinch. "You've been lying to me too...why―I don't understand"
Why Megumi would do something like that. He isn't the nicest guy around, and he stopped getting into fights when he transitioned into highschool so why...why is he―
"Gojo. The man who took Tsumiki and I in, he's the head of the Gojo clan, which is currently the most powerful family in the Yakuza" He says. Casually. Like he's telling you about the weather and not that he's affiliated with the-.
"The Yakuza?!" You screech loudly, but one sharp look from him has you quieting your tone. "Megumi, those guys are seriously bad news. Whatever it is he's offering you isn't good enough! You have to...quit or something!"
A snort. "You don't just up and quit working that kind of life. My real father was apart of the Yakuza too. A different syndicate though, and a real problem for Gojo. But for some reason, he didn't kill us after he murdered my dad. He took us in"
For lack of nothing better to do, you shovel a spoonful of ice-cream into your mouth.
"Either way, my fate was sealed since birth" Megumi continued. "I was going to be in the Yakuza. Just...didn't think I'd be doing it as Gojo's second. He offered me a choice. Said that once I was in, it would be impossible to get out. Tsumiki wanted no part in it. Neither did I but then..."
This part is hard for him to say. Without thinking, you slide down the bench until you're pressed shoulder to shoulder. Even though you're mad at him, you can't abandon him. Just like you've always been. Megumi takes a deep breath. "And then I found out that someone from a rival family had Tsumiki poisoned"
"Oh. The c-coma?" You ask, quietly, rhetoirical. Tsumiki had been in a coma for two years before she died. The pieces begin to fall together. You glance over at Megumi, whose face is blank and impassive. Forcefully so. Even now, he's trying to be strong for you.
The whole time then. It's always been like that. You thought you were Megumi's source of comfort, his strength. But he was yours.
It made sense now, why Megumi hardly looked at his sister, when the two of you visited her in the hospital. His personality growing more reserved. Distant. Why his visits grew more sparse as time moved on until you didn't see him for two whole years. He must have felt so alone.
"I wanted them all dead" He said suddenly, voice so dark and full of hatred that you flinch away. "But it wasn't enough for Gojo to do it. For some faceless lackey to do it. I had to do it. Because I failed to keep her safe. I was supposed to protect her and I fucked up and now she's dead"
You two only have each other Your words haunt you now. You can't help but feel as if you're the basis for the guilt that Megumi feels. You protect her and she protects you.
There's a sudden cold press against your lips. Megumi's kissed you.
"So imagine my surprise" Megumi says, lowly, hand pulling you in by the shoulder "That the last guy I have to kill in order to fully put my sister to rest is. Playing. Fucking. House. With. My. Wife" Each word is broken up with another kiss.
Your dizzy when he finally pulls away. You push lightly at Megumi's shoulders. He doesn't budge. His hand lands between your spread thighs on the bench, pale like the moon. His icy lips are nipping at the side of your neck now. Heat pools in your lower stomach.
"Me-Megumi...we're not, we're not married" You manage to gasp out, thighs clamping shut. Your stomach curls with disgust. "You mean...the whole time Shi―Takeo and I were dating he had...he was one of the ones who―"
You think you're going to be sick. Tears prick in the corner of your eyes and you hold on tightly to the sleeve of Megumi's suit jacket.
He makes a disgruntled sound, and mutter something like don't talk about him while I'm trying to kiss you but eventually works around to continuing.
"It took me a while to track him down. He was a rat, working for a rival family who had also been working for us. An informant. He knew where Tsumiki would be that day. He had been watching her and you too, for a long time. I never even fucking noticed" He says, spreading your legs again. "But before I had the chance to kill him, he fled―along with 1 million yen"
Your stomach swoops. But it's hard to focus on the dread you feel when Megumi has his hand down your skirt, toying with the waistband of your panties and kissing at the sensitive part of your neck he discovered earlier.
"Megu-Megumi, stop" You mutter, panicked, looking around the park for any voyeurs. "We're in a public place―someone could...Megumi, someone could see us, stop"
"There's no one around" Is the reply, cold fingers pressing against your skin. "Did you fuck that bastard? How many times?"
Despite the cold, you can feel the way your face begins to flush. "I'm n-not telling you that!" You exclaim hotly. As close as you are, even some things must be kept private. And your sex life is one of those things.
"So you did" Megumi says drily "How good was he? Not better than me"
"We never even!" You protest "We've never had sex Megumi―so how would you know?"
The wrong thing to say, apparently. Megumi wrenches away from you like you've just insulted Tsumiki herself, eyeing you like a predator would prey. In one quick movement, he's pulling you to your feet, snatching the ice-cream cup out of your hands and into the trash before setting a fast pace over to the car.
The car is a lot warmer than the chill air outside. Megumi pushes you down in the backseat, clambering on top of you. You try to scoot away, but one hand on your hip is strong enough to keep you in place.
Megumi's mouth presses to yours, hand rubbing up and down your stomach idly as he devours you. Kissing Megumi is different than any of the other guys you've kissed before. He kisses you like he's angry, frustrated―but then softens up, hand cupping your cheek and thumb stroking your jaw. Liking kissing you is enough to quell whatever fire and darkness swirls inside of him. He moves back, enough to strip out of his suit jacket, flinging it into the front seat.
"The windows are tinted" He says, as if that makes any difference to you. "Spread your legs"
Your eyes blow wide. "I'm not...I'm not doing that"
"Why not?"
"B-because!" You exclaim, trying to shut your legs again. And again, it's pointless to try. Honestly, the nerve of him! "I don't like you...like that. Megumi, we're practically siblings!"
"I don't think siblings kiss" Megumi says casually, flipping up your skirt instead. You want to point out that he kissed you. You just...reciprocated it for a minute. "And if you knew how much time I spent jerking off to you, I don't think you would believe we were 'practically siblings', either"
"You―you were―?" You stammer, unable to even get the words out
"My first wet dream was about you too" Megumi whispers, kissing you on your forehead. He sounds fond. "I still remember it. You were moaning so cutely when I fucked you. And god, you were a little spider monkey back then, remember? Kept clinging to me in the dream just like that. I wonder if you'll make the same sounds"
His hand splays across your clothed pussy. You can't think, can't even breathe, other than the fact that Megumi is about to fuck you in the backseat of his fancy car of all places and it feels like your entire world is falling apart.
You don't want this. You're sure you don't. But when Megumi's hands reverently pull down your panties (ignoring your protests when he tucks them into his back pocket), you can feel how wet you are. The brush of air against it doesn't help.
"Did that bastard ever get you this wet?" Megumi asks, tips of his fingers spreading your folds and gently trailing through your slick to gently pet around your hole. Your face burns with shame at the way your pussy clenches, knee jerking up involuntarily. His voice is far away and too close, all at the same time. "Did he?" He repeats, impatient.
"No" You wobble pathetically, watching as he shifts even closer. Megumi's hard cock grinds against your ass, heavy and smearing something hot and wet against your ass, even with the layers of his pants and underwear between you.
"I didn't think he did" Megumi says, before sliding two fingers into your cunt. The insides of your thighs spasm like pulled strings, a choked gasp leaving your lips as he pushes his fingers up until the last knuckle. "That bastard couldn't even fuck you properly"
His fingers pull back out of you, and then press back in. Slowly, at first, like he's mapping you out. The rest of his fingers smack against your ass with a soft slip and squelch. There's a determined knot in his brow before he slides them in―and starts finger-fucking you so hard you can't breathe.
"Meg―Megumi!" You squeal, though he shows no sign at all of slowing down. No, no, he speeds up―scissoring his fingers inside of you. A third finger spears into your cunt, thumb rubbing slow circles at your hooded clit. Your stomach curls and rolls, breathing hiccuping into sharp gasps and whimpers.
"He murdered my sister" Megumi growls lowly, fucking his fingers into your pussy like it's done something against him personally. You can't do anything but hold onto his inner wrist and take it. "Steals my fucking money, runs off with my girl and he can't even fuck you properly. How long were you two together? It couldn't have been worth it. You should've known you were mine instead of cozying up with that shithead"
Your insides churn rapidly. Each drag and push is like liquid fire, hitting your body in so many spots at once. You brace yourself against the cool leather seats of the car, heating up with how hot you feel, getting hotter still―chest heaving and heaving for air, toes curling in your socks.
When Megumi stops it pierces you like a physical pain. One moment you're nearly there, whimpering and pleading and the next―nothing. He's breathing hard, staring at the sticky mess between your thighs before those dark eyes slowly trail up to your body.
You cover your face with your hands, desperate for relief. Any relief. Why did he stop? This is wrong, you shouldn't be doing this at all. Much less feeling good from it. What would Tsumiki think? You don't want to know. All you know is that you were so close. You were right there and your pussy hurts, throbbing and you're so ashamed of the gushes of slick that seep out of you.
"I'm going to kill him" Megumi says. His hand cups your pussy, warm and solid. Your hips buck against it―chasing what he had once given you. "Very fucking slowly and very fucking painfully. You can't stop me from doing it. Do you understand?"
His other hand comes up to pull yours away, staring into your eyes. A part of you, despite everything, doesn't want Takeo to die. It makes shame curl in your gut. He was apart of the reason Tsumiki was in that coma in the first place. Those two years were the worst of your life. He was apart of the reason why she died.
But you think of his face in the morning, mussed from sleep. Whiny and always wanting to cuddle. It couldn't have all been fake, could it? At some point, Shigeo and Takeo had to have become one and the same. You loved that part of him.
Megumi calls your name. Your eyes flit to his face immediately. "Do you understand?" He repeats.
"I...I understand" You whisper quietly. Maybe the real reason you don't want Takeo to die is because Megumi will inevitably be the one to kill him. You've known Megumi since he was eight. He has always been a fighter, but he would never have it in him to kill someone.
If that's the Megumi you know, then who is this in front of you?
Hands settle on your knees. Your face flushes with embarrassment as you're suddenly spread open as far as you're able to in a car. You try and cover yourself with a squeak, but the movement of your hips as you move does nothing but reveal more of yourself to Megumi's ravenous gaze anyway.
"I'm not using a condom" Megumi states, flicking open the button on his pressed black slacks.
Your face pales.
Fingers skirt along your side. "We're going to be married anyway" he continues, shucking out of the pants and underwear. You try to dart your eyes away from looking at his cock―but you're a beat too late and you've already seen it. "Don't see why I have to wear one when you're going to be pregnant eventually"
He's big. Longer than Takeo, flush a pretty shade of red. Curving just slightly and dribbling precum. You don't know which one scares you more : Megumi's words or his cock.
He shuffles forward slightly, hooking a hand under you and pulling you forwards. The second, definitely the second.
Your legs snap close. Megumi wrenches them open again.
"Th―that's not going to fit." You say fearfully, whining as you try to break free of the sudden hold he has on you―squirming and bucking. You move so much that Megumi growls at you and then pins your hips down to the seats so that you can't move anything at all.
"It'll fit" Megumi mutters as a pitiful reassurance, bracketing your thighs overtop his knees. His brow knits, face pulling, and it's the most focused you've ever seen him. "I checked. Don't worry"
What's that supposed to mean? But before you can open your mouth to ask, he's cutting through your confusion with a simple, "Relax for me" and then proceeds not to miss a beat as he pushes inside.
Air rushes out of you in a sudden gust of adrenaline, back bowing off the seats with a high-pitched whine as Megumi spears himself inside your cunt. It's like a punch to the gut, flesh aching as you feel yourself stretch to properly swallow the first push. There's a loud grunt below you and then Megumi rocks gently back out, muttering a few choice words as he pushes himself in, all the way to the hilt.
A pair of hands settle across your waist. Megumi's fingers are long and pale against your dark skin, nails neatly trimmed with not a speck of dirt underneath.
"Told you it would fit" He says lowly, words melting like warm chocolate. His eyes flit down your body. "Look" He demands.
You do, moaning softly, staring down at the sight of your weeping pussy stretched around his girthy cock.
Megumi begins leilursely thrusting inside of you, cock bullying further into your cunt, eyes trained down at the place where your bodies are joined together. You've fallen flat on your back, gasping and choking for air. Each slow thrust is enough to make you feel it, impossible to ignore. This isn't your boyfriend, hands too big, grunts and groans too low-pitched to be Shigeo. Takeo.
This is your sour-faced Megumi. Megumi, who likes to pull out until the tip is just barely inside of you. This is Megumi, who likes to slowly push back in, muttering soft praises of how good you feel, how long he's been waiting for this, into your clammy skin.
There's the faintest press of lips to your forehead. Your eyes snap open, teary and wet. He's leaning over you now, cock nestled only deeper for it. His hand braces itself on your shoulder before sliding back down to your waist.
"Wanted our first time to be in my bed" He confesses, gently, hips slowly picking up the pace. His eyes are lidded with lust, skin ruddy and slightly red as your breaths sync into one rhythmic beat. "Not the one in the shitty Gojo estate―the one in your apartment. The one you've always had just for me"
His voice is low and reverent before a sweet kissed is placed onto your lips. "Going to fuck you now" He says, a warning, before he does just that. Your moans punch out of your throat, tapering off into high-pitched keens and whines. Your back arches but with Megumi's hands pinning you down to the seats there's nowhere for you to escape to.
You keen, gasping at the sudden shock sizzling down your spine―entirely too sharp and sudden and forceful to be wholly pleasurable, but achieving that same effect. Yet you clamp and clench around Megumi's cock anyway, tears streaming down your cheeks. One hand claws at the leather and the other grips tightly around Megumi's thumb.
And your orgasam is a sudden burst of pleasure that has your head tipping to the side with a noiseless scream as your cunt pulsates around his cock. "That's it, cum on my cock" Megumi grunts lowly, fucking you through it, cunt hot and slippery around him. Gripping him tightly, but milking at him like you already know whats coming.
Your head thuds against the seats lightly, body going nerveless and weightless in its entirety as Megumi's hips continue to snap into your cunt―chasing his own impending orgasam. Then he's pulling out, just so until the tip is pressing against your clit. His head collides with your shoulder, panting into the space between your neck and shoulder.
Megumi jerks at his cock in quick harsh strokes before painting your pussy in thick ropes of cum. Time stretches out, seconds, minutes, half an hour. You can't tell. You're floating somewhere faraway―only coming back to yourself when Megumi shifts your body upwards, cradling you to his chest.
You blink, slowly.
There a kiss planted on the top of your head. Megumi's voice is hoarse when he speaks. "Was I too rough?"
You swallow. Thinking is still pretty hard right now. "Rougher than I'm used to but...but it felt good"
"That's good" He says, and kisses the top of your head again. "I would never want to hurt you"
You are hurting me you want to say. The words don't come. Even if you weren't' half fucked out of your brain you don't think you could say them. Not to him. You're all Megumi's got. You won't abandon him. Not even for this. Just not in the way you think.
"I didn't know that was the kind of girl you went for" Gojo says, with a smirk on his face that Megumi wants to scratch off. He shoves his hands into the pockets of his navy colored pants, white hair tickling his neck.
Megumi scowls down at the pavement. Gojo falls into line behind him. The black sudan is just up ahead. "What are you talking about?"
"Is that where you've been going after school?" Is the question he's asked in return. "Tsumiki's best friends house?"
Why is Gojo asking a question he already knows the answer to? Gojo is so annoying. "Yes."
"Well I guess you are at that age now..." Says the man, whistling some odd tune. "I just didn't expect you to become such a pervert so quickly"
"Shut up" Megumi barks, clambering into the backseat of the car, face hot. Gojo slides in beside him. He clicks his tongue at the driver and soon, they're back on the road. "I'm not...you're being weird"
"Her skirt rode up when she flopped next to you on the couch" Megumi freezes. "You kept staring at her thighs."
"I wasn't" He lies, jerking his head towards the car window.
"I wonder if her mother notices that you stare at her like that" Hums the man, crossing one leg over the other. There's no use trying to defend himself. He's mostly sure that Gojo's only doing this to pull a reaction out of him. And he's fallen for that trick one time too many.
It's Gojo, who gives in first. "Don't look so down, Megumi. She'll be yours, don't worry" Megumi makes a grunting noise as his hair is ruffled. "Haven't you heard? Good things come to those who wait"
𓈒⊹ mdni fluff + silly misunderstandings. reader is a lovergirl. slight yandere suguru. 𓈒⊹
All you really wanted was for him to like you back.
It was pathetic. A foolish girl’s dream wished upon a few too many falling stars.
Staring at the seams of the stained glass window overlooking the quaint village outside, sighing to yourself as you waited to be called into his office.
How many fates were worse than being condemned to a side character in your favorite romance novel? One where you would soon be forced to watch the second male lead you loved so much fall for the leading lady while you were stuck working all day and slumming it in the shitty dorms of the mage’s tower all night?
Even though you had access to magic now, you were barely an amateur, making low-level potions for them to sell to merchants rather than anything remotely cool or exciting.
“He’s ready to see you now.”
Shit.
You didn’t have your story rehearsed.
How the hell were you supposed to explain why you had stolen a handful of restricted books from their archives to research opening a portal back to your real world?
You nervously nodded, brushing down your skirt as you followed his assistant back into his office, sneaking a peek up at the beautiful man behind the desk.
Suguru Geto.
The most talented mage in the past fifty years. Dark hair spilling down his back, half of it tied up in a messy bun that still managed to look deliberate, thin glasses perched on the bridge of his beautiful nose. You didn’t think there was anything about him that wasn’t beautiful.
He came down to the level where you worked a few times a day, always offering warm smiles and murmuring things in that honeyed tone of his, checking in on how everything was going with the rest of the workers. Sometimes you thought he even looked at you, convinced you caught a glimpse of his gaze on your skin only for him to be focused on someone else every time you glanced back.
Sometimes he left treats for everyone. Ordered a round of drinks for the room when you were at the tavern next door.
But you never thought he really noticed you. Until now.
God, you were so going to be fired.
You knew he'd never like you. Not the way he would love her once the story you had the misfortune of getting sucked into started. So why the hell did you have to be punished for just trying to go home?
Even in a place like this where magic existed, you sincerely doubted he'd believe you if you confessed you belonged to another world where this was all just a book.
"Sneaking into the archives is a fireable offense," he spoke sternly, pulling off his glasses to look up at you with soft purple eyes. "Stealing tomes-"
"I'm sorry," you blurted out, your voice coming out all squeaky as you bowed your head with apology.
Maybe if you seemed remorseful enough-
"You weren't trying to sell them on the black market, were you?" He asked, his sharp tone nearly making you flinch as you starting wildly waving your hands in denial.
"No, of course not, I just-" You gasped, taken aback at his accusation just to clamp your lips shut before you could tell him the truth.
"You just what?"
"I just wanted to study some of the spells in it," you muttered, an awkward half-truth.
"Like the love spells?" He asked, your face scrunching up in confusion as you scrambled for a new defense.
What use did he think you have for a love spell?
Your cheeks were heating up, embarrassment coursing through you as you considered the possibility your crush wasn't nearly as subtle as you previously believed.
"N-no," you mumbled, cringing at how unbelievable you sounded.
"You're a cute girl," he murmured, and you wanted to dissolve into a puddle on the spot, a little whimper threatening to leave your throat as he pushed back his chair and stood up. "Why do you need a spell to get someone to love you?"
"I really wasn't-"
"The date you took it out was the same day the prince came by to visit," he commented, as if he was making a connection your humiliated brain was struggling to comprehend. "Was it for him?"
Just when you thought it couldn't get worse, he was convinced that you were a loser so in love with a man out of your league that you were willing to cast a spell to capture his heart.
"Am I being fired?" You impulsively asked, itching to just go back to your room and collect the meager handful of belongings you had and leave before your pride could take another hit. You'd rather go be a waitress or find work somewhere else than live like this.
"I was thinking of a reassignment," he hummed, a hint of a sly smile curling up on his lips as you contemplated just quitting instead. It's not like he'd expend any energy searching for you if you ran away either.
"Reassignment?" You nervously echoed, fiddling with your fingers.
"I've been needing a new apprentice," he murmured, shrugging his shoulders as his robes fluttered around him. Dignified. A dangerous glint in his swirling stare as it seared straight through to your shaking soul. "I appreciate your, ah, unconventional thirst for knowledge."
"Really, I, uh, couldn't dream of accepting," you tried to insist, caught off guard again as he effortlessly disarmed all the excuses you'd been preparing. "I'm flattered, but I'm not nearly skilled enough-"
"His Highness comes to visit me regularly," he added, as if it sweetened his offer, and you wondered if he could feel the heat of your humiliation burning you up from across the room. "I can't allow you to test your spells on him, of course, but-"
"I wouldn't do that," you protested, nearly stomping your foot in frustration as your lips pushed out in a pout.
He paused, smiling nonchalantly as he pulled out a paper from the thick stack on his desk and dipped his quill in ink, holding both out for you.
"Uh-huh," he hummed. "Please sign here to confirm your new assignment. It comes with a higher pay and a better dorm."
"I would be working directly under you?" You asked, swallowing hard as you eyed the parchment.
"Learning from the very best," he confirmed, eyes crinkling softly as he tilted his head to the side.
Spending your shifts by his side instead of the back of the sidelines.
Even if he thought your heart was in someone else's hands.
Perhaps that was for the best.
You'd be forced to move on if you were faced with proof of his disinterest every single day.
"Okay," you anxiously accepted, nervously walking over to his desk, leaning over to take the quill from his hands and sign your name by the X. "If you're sure you want me."
"I want you."
𓈒⊹
More than you knew.
Suguru ran his fingers over the dried ink of your name, still clinging to the faint traces of your perfume in the air, glancing up at the door you just walked out of as he sighed.
It wasn't his fault you had enraptured him from the first moment he picked up on the strange aura that surrounded you. Who could blame him for being addicted to your shy attention, the adorable affection you were too scared to show him? Shyly staring and sneaking around trying to look up love potions?
He liked your desperation.
How was it any different to devotion?
It was obvious on your face when he asked about the prince that you were trying to just cover up your crush for him.
Was he supposed to not find it cute?
He filed your contract away, an easy smirk curling up on his face as he got one last look at the fine print.
A little love spell of his own. Sealed by your own signature
you didn’t set out to homewreck their relationship on both ends, really. if anyone were to ask you, it was a stroke of fate—you’d just happened across the both of them. suguru, who approached you at a bar and bribed you to the back with a drink. who brought you to the perfect line between drunk and tipsy, giggling endlessly and listing into his side, unable to hold yourself up fully. who took off his wedding ring and placed it on the nightstand before taking you to bed. who took you apart with the skill of a man with years of experience.
years he had; after all, you woke up the next morning to his phone buzzing, a call from ‘love’ blaring at you from the screen.
he winks at you as he leaves, securing a teasing promise that you won’t tell anyone. you don’t. instead, you smear a kiss at his collar. you ask to see him again, and when you do, you make a game out of trying to leave evidence behind—when suguru pulls you back by the hair, making filthy promises to fuck you in his husband’s bed, you moan and scratch your way down his back. when he ties you up, calling you his pretty little dove, you pull the skin of his neck into your mouth and suck until it bruises. when he gags you, telling you to be good, you whine and cry and hook your ankles around his hips, hoping this time it takes.
and when he finally, finally takes you home, fucking you on his bed like he promised, you just so happen to accidentally leave your g-string behind.
a week later, you see satoru while scrolling on hinge. older, beautiful, and clearly suguru’s husband. you’d seen him enough, stared down his picture while his husband fucked you in his bedroom. you’d imagined his face. daydreamed about the possibility of him walking in, of him watching you take his husband down your throat as he moaned your name.
this, you think, is better.
you match. of course you do. you start talking, you play it sweet, you act completely clueless. you have phone sex with him before suguru picks you up for another date. suguru takes you to bed, and you comfort him when he texts you about how his ‘roommate’ is taking a while to get home. when you finally meet, he doesn’t even bother to hide his wedding ring. suguru never does, either.
satoru fucks you angry. he keeps your hands clasped in one palm as he takes you from behind, panting heavily in your ear. when you turn your head to moan, he growls low in his throat and shoves your face into the pillow, smothering your whines. he makes you cry. fucks you until he’s done, uncaring of the way you writhe against him as it borders too much.
and when it’s done, he sits there, not even looking at you. he stares down at his hands, palms up, wedding ring still on. you run a hand down his thigh, lean into his side, and ask what’s wrong.
“i think my husband is cheating on me,” he tells you hoarsely.
you coo, bringing his head into the crook of your bruised neck. you run a hand down his spine, stroking your thumb back and forth. you press a kiss into his white hair. “it’s okay,” you murmur. “it’s okay. he’s not—he couldn’t be. who’d be willing to give you up?”
he texts you again a week later. you visit suguru at work, suck him off under his desk, then wipe your mouth and meet up with satoru for lunch.
irritating as fuck when people get mad at Black people existing in premodern historical fiction/fantasy media. like first of all, you're racist. and second of all, you are acting as though Black people didn't exist in premodern Europe which is simply false. especially when we're talking about the Mediterranean, like what the fuck do you people think is along the southern half of the Mediterranean Ocean?? everyone's on boats, there are GOING to be interactions with Black people in Northern Africa, and there are GOING to be Black people in Mediterranean Europe. stop being stupid. your imagined homogeneous white European past is not historical reality, get over it you massive losers
you're crying after a guy bothers you... and your boyfriend isn't about to let it slide.
bleehhh can't sleep and i made up this scenario w fratkuna sooooooooocontains college au frat!ryomen sukuna x midsize!fem!reader; themes of harrassment (the culprit is naoya bc i saw his ass in the manga😐), ryo is like ur knight but not in the toxic alpha male way ew & he punches a guy, & i'm using the hcs that toji, choso, & geto are all in a frat with him + the gojo twins are present (honorable mentions for twins satoshi "fratjo" gojo and satoru nerdjo🫶) and everyone goes to 'tokyo college of jujutsu tech', and dw it turns into fluff n comfort—btw this is noooottt proofread
"girl, you're really cute."
another nervous giggle, playing with a lock of your hair. jesus christ, you just wanted to get out of that fucking western poetry class.
you'd only taken the class because you needed a humanities elective, and it had looked interesting! unfortunately for you, though, every guy who thought they were a major philosopher and the next unbiological love child of nietzsche had also taken the class! and sadly, you had caught the attention of one of those guys—naoya zenin, one of the dean's relatives.
he was toji's cousin, you knew, and toji was your boyfriend's frat brother... so maybe you were fine? you tried to convince yourself you were as you sped walked out the door, naoya hot on your trail with a sleazy grin and a mouth full of harrassment.
"where ya goin'? class just ended, sweetie."
"i can't stay," you said quickly, heeled boots clicking rapidly against the floor. you'd dress so cute that—polka-dot glasses, a pink off-the-shoulder sweater, black skirt, and knee-high boots that really captured the prime look of a college girl! and it was being wasted because this motherfucker was ogling you. "i have to go back to my dorm."
"why? need an escort?"
"no, i know the way."
"well, someone might hassle you."
"somebody already is hassling me."
"huh?" that made naoya pause—but only momentarily. once he realized what you meant, he fell back into step behind you, seeming even more determined than before. "got some bite on you. i like that. lot of women don't know when they should play it easy or hard to get—you do."
you hated when guys couldn't just take no for an answer the first time. because that meant you had to use the next excuse up your sleeve—
"my boyfriend wouldn't like that you're following me. i really can't stay and talk, and i'd like it if you would kindly leave me alone."
you said it as curtly and politely as you could, then, before the surprised naoya could reboot and say anything else, you bolted through the doors of the humanities hall and out into the spring day.
campus was lively in the afternoon. there was ultimate frisbee and football being played, groups of friends on picnic blankets talking and tanning, girls swirling their boba and iced coffee as they commuted from classes and dorms—and there was ryomen's and a handful of his frat sitting on benches in the quad, lounging after smoking.
well, choso and geto were still slightly buzzed. toji hadn't taken a pass, and it took more than a few puffs to get to ryomen.
"oh my god, i can't feel my tongue," choso muttered, rubbing his eyes. his black mullet was shaggy, messed up, and he smelled like he'd been waterboarded in geto's cologne to cover up the post-smell of weed.
geto, sitting wide and strumming his guitar absently, grinned lazily. "you're too easy, man. second-hand molly in the wind would get you fucked."
"nuh-uh."
"uh-huh."
"shut the fuck up," toji muttered, waving his hand dismissively as he rubbed his face with the other. "i still have a goddamn headache."
"not our fault you hit your head on a fucking table last night," ryomen laughed.
toji groaned, turning his head to look off into the distance. the activity on campus only worsened his pulsing skull. "swear to god, 'm concussed or something. shouldn't have on that chair when i was drunk."
"you should've came." choso tapped ryomen's knee. "where were you?"
"with his giiiirrrllll," geto teased.
"yeah, yeah." ryomen didn't care if everyone in all of fucking tokyo knew he was whipped—he was whipped for you, his sweet little girlfriend. "not my fault i wanna spend one night of the weekend watchin' pretty woman again instead of watching toji crack his head open."
like he was summoned by his name, toji started shaking ryomen's shoulder. "dude."
"one sec—" ryomen was about to say something else to choso, but toji wrenched his arm to the side. "what the fuck! what?"
"look where i'm fuckin' looking." toji pointed across the quad. "isn't that—"
"holy shit," geto said when he saw you briskly walking and crying, like you were trying to escape someone—you had been.
choso frowned when he followed everyone's line of sight. "is that your girlfriend? why is she crying?"
"i... gotta go." ryomen got up from the bench without another word and started across the quad. when he realized how fast you were walking, he thanked god that he was an athlete and started running after you. "hey!"
when you hear a male voice, you automatically moved quicker, expecting it to be naoya again—but then it repeated, and you recognized ryomen.
"baby? hey, slow the hell down!"
fuck. you didn't want him to see you crying. think, think, think—
but it was too late. ryomen had reached you, grabbed you by the shoulder, and turned you around in an instant. "shit, thought i was going to lose you. what's—"
you couldn't held but sob even harder when he began to ask you what was wrong, and ryomen gaped at your puffy, round face, smudged mascara, and the salty streams of tears down your cheeks.
"oh god, angel. what's wrong? c'mere, can i hold you?"
as expected, since he had the biggest soft spot and change of attitude when he was with you, ryomen engulfed you in the comforting embrace of his arms and let you bury your face and ruined makeup against his racing jacket.
"ok, ok," he whispered softly against your hair as he stroked it. "deep breaths. in and out, yeah? gotta calm down and take proper breaths. can i see your purse, please, hon? don'tcha keep tissues in there?"
"i—" you wheezed slightly, trying not to choke on tears or words. "i was gonna wait inside until i looked for 'em..."
"all right, well, i'm here now. let me see."
carefully, he slipped your purse off your shoulder, located the pack of tissues inside, then extracted one so that he could dab your face gently. "there we go. better, hm? keep breathing f'me, just like that, pretty girl."
when you had calmed down enough to not explosively weep again, ryomen caressed the side of your face and asked, "tell me what happened."
you crossed your arms, lips pursed in a pout. "no."
you knew what he would do if you told him that naoya zenin bothered you...
"what? fuck you mean—" he inhaled slowly, then tried again, softer. "angel, how can i help if i don't know what's wrong? or—how are you gonna feel better if you don't talk about what made you cry like that? i mean, you were going pretty fast in those heels, i imagine something happened."
after a pause, he hardened. "did someone fucking do something to you?"
"ryo—"
"nah, don't give me that soft stuff. tell me who and what."
"it wasn't anything serious!" you insisted, holding him tightly. "seriously."
"tell. me."
"promise me you won't be mad!"
"no."
"ryo!"
"was it a guy?" he brushed a few hairs out of your face, grimacing. "i'll beat the shit out of him if it was."
"it was a small incident. small, that's it."
"or was it a girl? 'cuz satoshi's brother satoru knows a girl named shoko in pre-med, she'll fight anyone—unless you don't care if i do it, because i'll hit anyone you ask, babe—"
"stop!" you shook him slightly. "a guy kept following me around and bothering me, i just wanted him to go away—and he did! he just... overwhelmed me. i was scared."
ryomen stared at you when you finished speaking. he blinked a few times and nodded slowly, tongue against the inside of his cheek. "ok. yeah, ok."
you frowned, watching as his face contorted. "what?"
"this happened just now?"
"um... like ten minutes ago."
"where?"
you picked at your nails, growing nervous. "...the humanities building."
he'd turned on his heel without a second thought, and you hurried after him, having known he probably would've gone off the moment you gave him all the details, like a bloodhound with a scent for prey.
"wait—ryo! it's not that big of a deal!"
"not that big of a deal my ass." he was practically snarling.
who you didn't expect to see soon after ryomen was on his war path was the culprit himself. naoya was crossing the pavement, staring at his phone—but when he saw the tattooed, six-foot-four jock headed his general direction, he couldn't help but freeze. you also stopping, surprised and wary, was a dead giveaway on who the guy ryomen was looking for was.
ryomen glanced between naoya and you, then pointed. "him?"
you slowly let go of his arm, knowing there was little you could do to help the situation or stop your boyfriend. "yeah..."
calmly—too fucking calmly—he continued down the sidewalk until he was a few yards from naoya, then he nodded once and said, "hey, man."
naoya, contemplating fight or flight, tried to remain casual and nodded back. "hey..."
"wanna ask you—you bother that girl over there earlier?" he jutted a thumb over his shoulder, at your nervous figure in the distance.
"i didn't bother her. i was just talking to her."
"in what way."
"huh?"
"In what way—because you sound like a really shitty guy to talk to if she walked away crying."
"not my fault she didn't—"
before naoya could finish casting off whatever blame onto you, ryomen winded back a tight fist and clocked him in the nose.
naoya yowled in pain the moment the fist connected with his face, and he recoiled, hands snapping up to cover his soon-to-bleed nose. "what the fuck is wrong with you?!"
"ryomen!" you cried from behind him.
across the quad, it seemed that the others ryomen were with before had witnessed everything.
"ry!" toji waved a relaxed arm, like he knew ryomen had everything handled but still wanted to be nice and extend an offer. "good?"
ryomen cracked his knuckles, then wrung out his pulsing hand. "yeah, he shouted back. "good."
"is she ok?" choso called over, pointing at you.
"i'll take care of her."
"'kay, i guess." geto watched the entire thing with a skeptical look. "see you later."
without exchanging any words, ryomen returned to you and carted you up to his dorm. he was glad that you didn't protest or refuse to go with him—he surely thought you were mad at him, until you whispered the soft "thank you" to him at his door. he simply kissed your head and pushed the door open.
in his dorm, he insisted you clean while he ordered food. lounging in his bed, shirtless now and just in a pair of sweatpants, he scrolled on his phone while resting a hand on you. you'd positioned yourself beside him after cleaning off your tear-streaked makeup and changing into one of his hoodies.
"sushi and boba, or thai?" ryomen asked, rubbing slow circles on your thighs. he loved to grip the plush there, to kiss up from your calf to the softness of your belly—he would later, but right then, he was focused on getting you fed and rested, the two things he thought key in recovering from bad days. "wait. chinese?"
you ran a hand through his hair and leaned over to peck his cheek. "anything."
"you always say that, baby."
"i know."
"ok. sushi and boba."
you smiled. "i trained you right."
taking a moment, ryomen dropped his phone and grabbed your jaw to bring you in for a full, proper kiss that lasted until you were both breathless. and when you pulled away only slightly, hovering closely above him, lips still brushing, he licked his lips and smiled. "you're ok, right? not mad?"
"no," you said, tilting your head slightly. "not mad. maybe a little annoyed that you always jump to violence, but... i really appreciate you wanting to protect me. i know you just want me to be all right in the end."
"damn right i do. i love you, gorgeous."
smiling, you kissed him once more. "i love you too, ryo. now order the food before the place closes."
send me asks <3
buy me a kofi
divider creds to @anitalenia check them out their work is so gorg!!!!
I bring a real 'actually people who are pregnant do deserve some special consideration because they are effectively at least temporarily disabled if not permanently after some complications' vibe to the party that a lot of people don't seem to like
