"Y/N is a petite, bambi, innocent, bimbo, she threw her blonde hair into a messy bun as I stared at herself in the mirror with her blue eyes, dressed in tight skinny jeans and an oversized t-shirt."
That is NOT dababy. WHO TF?!
AND OMG IF YOURE GONNA WRITE A FANFIC CLEARLY FOR A WHITE AUDIENCE TAG IT WRITE SAY "WHITE CODED" AND ILL GLADLY SCROLL.
DONT DO A BLACK READER AND BE A RACIST BIGOT WHILE WRITING.
DONT DO A BLACK READER IF YOU MAKE THE "BLACK READER" WHITE CODED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
ENOUGH IS ENOUGH WHERE IS MY Y/N WHO IS MIXED AND NOT A FUCKASS PICKME OR A PUSH OVER!!!
GUYS, can we stop normalizing the dadcest…like nooo, makes me so uncomfortable and it keeps popping out everywhere, like why you wanna act like a kid and get fucked by “dad”? like it’s not even daddy kink it’s straight up just wanting to fuck your dad, HELLO. don’t even get me started in the “pet play” shit, like why you wanna be a dog or cat..i don’t get it.
Anyone know some good mark grayson/invincible x reader multi chapter fanfics? For some reason it's difficult to find multi chapter fanfics and I miss reading them. Bonus points if there is angst in it too
"The Emperor's Favourite" is a really good one, it takes place in the comics where an older Mark is emperor of the Viltrum Empire. Basically lonely DILF gets his freak on with a sexy alien warrior (us) Bonus points for MILF Eve 😛 (they divorced) But very good characterization of them. The author also had a Spider!Reader fic and IT WAS SO GOOD but they deleted all their works
"She Loved You In Every Universe But Mine" is about a reader from an alternate timeline with an evil mark and gets transported into Omni-Mark's timeline where she is his dead girlfriend. LOTS OF ANGST and internal conflicts on both parties.
"And You Know What? Hell Yeah" another person also added this one and I vouch for it.
ChlorineAtom! Gojo x HydrogenAtom! Reader x Hydroxide! Sukuna
Wc: 2k
Synopsis: You and Satoru had everything you both ever wanted in a partner, together, forming the strongest of bonds… Or so you thought. That was until a certain base came along to destabilize things <3
Warnings: CRACK!!!, angst, proximity, suggestive, mdni, slighttttt dubcon/noncon (Sukuna steals a smooch lol), yandere! Sukuna if you squint, boyfailure! Gojo lamo, doomed soulmates, tried my best for scientific accuracy some changes made for fiction, Strong Chemicals: Do Not Waft
A/n: It’s my biochem class and I decide the concept review method
Thank you to @thecutestgrotto and @lunaridae for the dividers!
Life was incredibly rough for ChlorineAtom!Gojo before he met you. Being a lone solute swimming around the walls of his equally measured glass confine came with its challenges. Surrounded by what seemed to be fragments of himself, everywhere, no matter where he went. He could never escape the loneliness, the monotony. It was a dreadful feeling that pooled endlessly within him. Wasting away with no purpose, just a complete vacancy. If his existence had any meaning, he was lost to what it was.
However, coming from the top right of the periodic table had its perks, he was one of the strongest halogens around afterall, but what good was that if he was just short of perfection?
Seven.
He had exactly seven valence electrons in his outer shell. If he were really something to marvel at, he'd have obeyed the octet rule. Only the most stable, noble gasses, had the full eight. What was the point of even trying when he couldn’t accomplish anything by his lonesome?
His power buzzed and crackled with energy, infuriating, but he knew he couldn't act, not yet at least. Despite the solitude and seemingly innumerable minutes to self reflect he was still reactive. Any atom worth their salt knew potential interactions could lead to radioactive decay. Unfortunately he’d have to wait. For what exactly? He didn’t quite know yet.
It was just another day merely existing heavily in his sodium chloride solution until suddenly, a radiant light poured in from the heavenly fume hood above, and in came a surge of concentrated sulfuric acid.
Without warning, the ground erupted into a feverish flame. It was an immense heat generating a type of energy that made him want to – no, need to move. He couldn’t do so in his current state and quickly he sublimated his granulated form to slip into something more entropically favorable. This must be a sign as he began to ascend into the clear plastic tubing. It was during the twisting and turning of travel did he realize-
he wasn't alone…
There you were. Your body, delicate and gaseous, was ethereally obscured by the pale fog you were emitting.
Gorgeous, just beautiful.
There was no other way to encapsulate how the light shifted through your fluid motions and reflected off your particles, teasing him, tantalizing him. He dreamt of you condensing your lower half for him.
Unbeknownst to you, Gojo knew you’d be together from the second he saw you. Meanwhile, you were fighting your way through the loops and dips of the apparatus. Having no idea the effect you were having on this haughty halogen.
How disorienting! Previously laying dormant in your bottle at peace, when you were rudely thrown into a reaction and forced to vaporize.
Perhaps all that outrage would be best to subside. If you were feeling any discomfort, all of that changed irrevocably when you finally met his cerulean voltaic gaze. At once, you both rushed to each other at top speed. You couldn’t help it, his acrid bleach-like aroma enveloped you and his partial negative charge was so damn alluring. You just had to have him.
Truly it was no surprise you both bonded instantly.
The nature of your connection with Satoru Gojo was inhuman, chemical, to be exact. Your mutual need and desire for one another surpassed all quaint sentient and social systems put into place by “humans” and “social norms”. There would be no introductions, no slow dreamy dates, and definitely no extravagant ceremonies that end in tight ties and elaborate dresses pooled on the floor.
Nothing but the way your bodies would be bound to each other. Both inseparable from the moment of contact. Belonging to one another, and both of you wouldn't have it any other way.
“Ngh – c’mon pretty baby just a little more. You’re doing so good for me. Don’t worry about anything else I’ve got you, I’ve got you”, he’d huff rough and slow, words smoldering your senses as he stuffed your nucleus full of electrons, rutting them in over and over again.
Like the true chlorine he is, he never failed on what he promised you. He always held you firm and close, unyielding. You were his treasure, his positivity, cradling you like you were only ever his to behold.
He was just so big and oxidative in every way you couldn’t help but find sanctuary in his embrace. Despite his size, he never crowded you, never cruelly tugged you too tight. Sure you’d have your fun together, but despite his strength there was tenderness, peace in the proximity.
You were everything he could have ever dreamed of, this was finally it: the god-like titans from above finally bestowed a divine gift to him. No neural tissue aside, he’d be the biggest idiot to ever let you go.
You were afterall, his HydrogenAtom! His perfect compliment. What he lacked in electrons you supplemented him with your single one. Noble gases be damned because your configuration together was sublime. Together you both reached the octet formation.
It made you quite emotional to think about it, what did you ever do to deserve such love, such stability? You always doubted yourself, coming from a place like the top left of the periodic table had other other atoms ostracizing you for only ever having a 1s orbital, calling you worthless and weak. As if you had any control over that. Your petite orbital only made room for two electrons and even then, you could only muster up the strength to carry a measly one, completely incapable of ever filling your valence shell alone.
None of it mattered to you anymore.
Especially when Satoru saw you as the atom you were always meant to be.
“Hey, look at me glucose,” the little name he’d coined for you reverberated off the translucent flask. Slowly, deliberately, running through your aqueous form, coaxing you to interact. Hesitantly, you turn in his hold to face him. A boyish grin radiates off his face so infectious, that even his eyes seem to be laughing – fondness. “Who cares about how many orbitals you have? You’re so perfect and you don’t even realize the power you have. So can you please stop being mean to my baby, my hydrogen,” you can’t even control yourself when you nuzzle yourself deeper into him, the feeling electrifying, perfectly content to stay there forever.
How could you not share the only electron you have when he's been exactly the kind of atom you needed? Together you both formed a bond so covalent, polar, and sacred it made even the most charged ions blush. Perched in his hold, you both condensed into a new form, something, highly corrosive, liquid-smooth, HydrochloricAcid!
From that point on, nothing stood in your path together, love so acidic bubbles fluttered around you both in a flurry. Anything that opposed you both would melt and sizzle beneath your mordant gazes, insignificant. Life needed nothing else, just the two of you. Anything else should just blister and disassociate for all you cared.
That was until you and Satoru were placed into a new, spacious, larger area. Whatever, you had moved lab equipment so often it never mattered to you. As long as you were with him.
You should’ve noticed something was off when nothing was offered as fodder to burn. That's when it happened…
The expansive fume hood opened with a whirring swoosh, and in seconds, sodium hydroxide splashed into your corrosive home. Instantly the temperature rose uncomfortably. Everything shook violently, blurring your vision and destabilizing everything. Horror spiked through you. You didn’t even know the temperature could even get this hot. You couldn’t focus, desperately, you tried to attach yourself to Satoru with your electron, your only hope. You cursed yourself silently for only being able to do this much with just a single electron, but you had to try. Panicked and shaky as you were starting to lose your grip on the bond.
Your bond–
“Don’t worry sweets, I’m the strongest, remember? I’m not lettin’ ya go. Ever. It’ll be just the two of us again when this is all over. I’ve got you, even if it's just me holding us together,” his tone was earnest but you could sense the sliver of doubt in his voice. Even he was starting to struggle. It made something sickening and elusive coil up and through your nucleus despite your frantic need for comfort and stability.
The battle seemed to have ended before it even started once Hydroxide! Sukuna languidly appeared parting the steaming fizz, and entering like the devil himself.
“Strongest huh?” Sukuna’s voice carried a mocking lilt to it–an easiness that came from the confidence of countless chemical reactions won. His presence rattled you. You thought Satoru was large but you couldn’t believe the bulky base in front of you. Devouring you whole with just his eyes, wretched grin contorted the planes of his face.
“I’d get out of here if I were you, unless you want me to decompose you right here and repel you off? Hm? Makes no difference to me,” Satoru’s smile captured equal aggression, challenging. His eyes were fixed on Sukuna while his grip around you tightened impossibly harder.
“Tch, all talk for someone who can’t even electronegatively attract for shit. I’m going to enjoy this,” not one to mince words, he lunged, faster than instinct. Winding back an attack–
Malevolent Sodium.
Wordlessly Satoru moves his body to shield yours.
Sukuna wasn't aiming for you anyway.
The impact connects with Satoru and it’s excruciating. Completely bombarded by the sheer force of the attack and he feels the palpable increase of the pH, feeling his own Pka value change. He was already struggling to hold you with the escalating temperature, the vibrations wearing down on him. However, the sodium latched on to him, unexpectedly, and dragged him down, deep under.
Your bond was cleaved.
Leaving you exposed and trembling, you try to dive down further into the solution, to find satoru, your love. Sukuna however, doesn’t even entertain the thought as he snatches you up in one fluid motion, pressing you firmly onto his liquid form.
You couldn’t move, your motions, sluggish and heavy. This feeling is spread throughout your incorporeal matter as you are adhered to him. Bound. He took so much more of you than you'd realized. Writhing and struggling, you physically couldn’t seem to break free. Is this what strong electronegativity feels like? Why do you feel so full? So complete? Why does it feel so… The guilt bites down, snapping you out of it.
“No! You can’t do this – get away from me, I’m with Satoru- Mnh!” you divert your eyes in defiance since the effect he had on you caused your particles to feel insurmountably heavy.
“None of that protium,” He grabs you almost enough to hurt, forcing you to eye him. There’s an intense craving in his scrutiny. His comment addressed you as your simplest form, stripping you completely bare. It shuts you up. “You’re lucky I tolerate that mouth on you,” leaning in leering, he overwhelms your mouth with his, wet and heavy, memorizing each ridge and groove. When he finally breaks, it’s with a resounding pop. His tongue dragged over his lips in satisfaction.
“You monster, you brute!” Hot watery tears welled up and began to spill, leaking out into the aqueous solution. Sukuna made no attempt to swipe them away.
“That’s right brat, let it out. We’re neutralizing the hell out of this pH – you’ll learn to take it eventually.”
Deprotonation
It felt like a death sentence to any acid. You were his baby. The only one he ever wanted to bond to for eternity. Now brutally stripped away in an irreversible exergonic reaction.
Negative was beyond an understatement to what Satoru was feeling, but that didn't negate the charge that loomed over him. Useless, pathetic, he couldn't even hold on to what mattered the most. Now he lay at the bottom of the beaker, a spectator, bound to an insignificant sodium when all he yearns for is you.
In the beginning he believed to be able to fight him off, but as time went on that vile titration that Sukuna came from didn't stop, just slowly settling to a steady drip. Even so, the solution would become undeniably basic, influencing his presence, his hold over you.
Dammit if there was just more of himself out there he could have followed through on his promise.
No.
He will. One day. No matter how long it takes, he will find a way to covalently bond with you again. Anything to feel your bubbly self come back to him. As for now, he’ll just have to bang on the sides of the beaker hoping to the gods draped in white coats up above make his presence more abundant. To have you in his embrace and together, you’ll be able to neutralize that bastard for good.
Samantha Eve Wilkins with a civilian!comic book nerd!s/o (could be read as POLY!Markeve too btw)
@tomies-journal since my sibby wanted to be tagged! ♥
Of course, you know about her powers.
You're the first person who hasn't pressured her or tried to tell her how to use HER OWN powers other than Mark and she loves that about you.
You, Mark and Eve hangout and just listen to music, obvi you and Mark have your noses in comic books, probably Seance dog or something of the sort.
She likes to be helpful!! Like if there's a stain on your shirt or you just don't like the texture, she'll use her powers to fix it!
She's the type of gf to just wanna lay around for a day at least once a week and just,,, play with your hair,, kiss your face and talk to you about her whole week
Ofc with being a hero,, time together is sometimes pretty rare
When Eve and Mark go off on missions you're left on earth just twiddling your thumbs basically
OH OH she would absolutely create a little earpiece for you, just so even if her and Mark are off in space you guys can still talk.
Eve is the type to create a rose from thin air and just leave it on your bed before going off on patrol just as a littol apology for leaving.
If you don't have Eve,usually you'll have Mark!
He's so awkward he'd probably just be like "do you.. want to hang out with me?"
You'll watch an action movie or something
Probably into spiderman, considering he has in fact met him once.
When Eve gets back,, y'all take a shower together.
Yes. Three people in one shower, very crowded and romantic.
Ofc if it's too small Eve can just make it big enough anyway
Eve is clingy!!! She hates being away from you and Mark at all ever in any situation
Hence her making you an earpiece so you ALL can communicate at any time
Which definitely leads to your earpiece pinging at like 4AM,, only for Eve's voice to come through it "You still awake?"
If you weren't, you are now.
And she's knocking on your bedroom window a few seconds later whether you respond or not.
Naturally, Mark is there soon after.
CUDDLE PILE WHILE ALL THREE OF YOU MAKE OUT AND HOLD EACH OTHER!!
They're both handsy btw they love PDA always.
Like they don't gaf whether they're in costume or not their hands are on you.
Mark's favourite show of affection is kissing and hair playing meanwhile Eve's would be,,, hugging, kissing, and just touching any part of you or Mark.
popular!eve wilkins and loser lesbian!reader get paired up for a architecture project! ╱ 5k words, some religious trauma, reader has a huge crush on eve, fingering (+18) ˚.✦
You haven't met anyone in university that didn't know Eve Wilkins. She was a literal dream come true; long, silky ginger hair, gorgeous body, big green eyes and that natural beauty that makes everyone sigh.
And on top of that, she was incredibly nice and friendly with everyone. When you were lucky enough to talk to her, she never breaks eye contact, she smiles at you and she listens.
Again, a dream girl.
Your dream girl, to be fair. Because you, with all the other boys, were crushing on her. How could you not? It felt like someone cast a spell on you to like Eve Wilkins.
The only problem is that you were a girl. And Eve Wilkins was the archetype of a nice straight girl.
You and Eve have three classes together, all dedicated to architecture. She would always sit in the middle of the class, slightly close to the window. You would choose a seat a few rows back so you can stare at her without looking weird.
Was that a little creepy? Maybe. Probably. But again, her silky hair and how she runs a hand through it every once in a while. Her perfect manicured fingers, nails painted in a light pink shade, threading in the hair. It was such a pretty sight.
Most of the time you aren't listening to the teacher. You're either looking at Eve or at the window. So you totally miss the moment where she announced a project and the moment she started saying the pairs for it.
You freeze when she drops into the chair next to you like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
Her perfume hits first, something warm and expensive that smells like vanilla and cherry. Then her hair brushes your shoulder for half a second as she leans in to set her sketchbook down, and your brain short-circuits.
“Those rings are insane,” she says, voice soft but genuinely delighted.
She reaches out without asking, fingertips barely grazing the silver band on your index finger, the one with the tiny crescent moon soldered into it.
"Ah, thank you." You are still processing everything. Was she touching your hand at this moment? Fuck, she was.
She smiles and turns her whole body toward you like you’re the only person in the room. “They’re beautiful. You have really good taste.”
Your mouth opens. What comes out is a strangled, high-pitched version of:
“I, um... you don’t have to do this. With me. If you want to switch or I can just do my half alone, it’s fine, I don’t want to drag you down or—”
Eve’s hand lands lightly on your forearm.
Not hard. Not pitying. Just… there.
“Woah,” she says, and her voice drops to something quieter, more serious. “Stop.”
You stop breathing.
“I want to do this project with you,” she says. “I literally asked Professor Lang to pair us.”
You blink. Several times. “You… you what?”
She laughs under her breath, a little embarrassed, and tucks a strand of that impossible ginger hair behind her ear.
“I saw your models last semester. The way you layer materials; the brass mesh over the resin, the way you let light bend through it instead of just bouncing off. It’s… different. In a good way. I’ve been wanting to work with you since the mid-term review.”
Your heart is doing something violent against your ribs. “But you could’ve picked anyone. Literally anyone.”
Eve tilts her head, studying you like you just said something adorable and ridiculous at the same time.
“Yeah,” she says softly. “I could’ve. I picked you.”
The silence stretches. Her green eyes haven’t left yours once.
You swallow. “Why?”
She doesn’t answer right away. Instead she leans in a fraction closer, until you can count the faint freckles scattered over the bridge of her nose.
“Because,” she murmurs, “You look really cool. And I looove cool people.”
Your pulse roars in your ears.
She smiles again, smaller this time, almost private—and taps the edge of your sketchbook with one perfect fingernail.
“So. Brutalist library with a public garden roof. You want to start with the structural grid or the light studies?”
You stare at her for another stupid second, brain still lagging several frames behind.
Then you turn your sketchbook toward her.
“Light studies,” you manage. Your voice only shakes a little. “I’ve been thinking about how the pergola slats could fracture sunlight across the reading tables. Like… stained glass but brutal.”
Eve’s whole face lights up.
“Fuck yes,” she breathes. “Show me.”
And just like that, she scoots her chair closer until your knees are almost touching under the table, opens her own sketchbook, and waits for you to start talking.
For the first time in three semesters of architecture school, someone is waiting to hear what you have to say.
And it’s her.
She gave you her phone number after the class. Insisting to meet in your dorm because her home is always a mess. You really didn't ask any questions. But still you tided your room up before she knocked so she has a good impression of you.
"Hiii," she waves at you when you opened the door for her.
The first thing you notice is her hair in the loose braid and the pink tank top with low waisted jeans. Did she always wear something pink or what?
"Hey," you say simply. "Uh, come in! I got some ideas written, if you want to hear them."
"Woah, is that a But I'm a Cheerleader poster?"
Eve’s eyes are wide and sparkling as she steps fully inside, backpack still slung over one shoulder, head tilted like she’s just discovered buried treasure on your wall.
You close the door behind her, heart doing that stupid triple-step it always does when she’s within ten feet. “Yeah. I, uh… found it at this weird thrift shop off campus last year.”
She spins to face you, braid swinging, grin so bright it should come with a warning label. “I’ve watched that movie like… minimum five times. Probably more. I made my roommate in first year watch it with me and she pretended to hate it but I caught her crying at the end.”
You blink. “You cried?”
“Ugly cried,” she says without hesitation, dropping her bag on your desk chair and flopping cross-legged onto the edge of your bed like she’s been here a hundred times. “The whole ‘you don’t have to be fixed’ thing just… wrecked me. My parents are very religious, and I spent so long thinking something was wrong with me because I didn’t feel the way the pastor said girls were supposed to feel. Then I saw Megan and Graham and it was like… oh. Oh. Someone made a whole movie about this exact feeling.”
She stops, suddenly self-conscious, and rubs the back of her neck. “Sorry. I just infodumped all over your room.”
“No, no, keep going,” you say way too fast. You sit on the desk chair across from her, knees pulled up, trying to look casual and probably failing. “I mean… same. I watched it the summer before senior year of high school and it felt like someone finally explained why I’d been walking around feeling like I was defective. Like, the scene where they’re in conversion therapy doing those stupid exercises? I’d lived versions of that in my head for years.”
Eve nods slowly, eyes locked on yours again in that unnerving, beautiful way she has. “Exactly. And then the ending when they just… choose each other anyway. I think about that ending a lot.”
You swallow. “Me too.”
A beat of quiet. Not awkward, exactly. More like the air got heavier in a good way.
She leans forward a little, elbows on her knees. “Can I ask you something kind of personal?”
Your stomach drops through the floor. “Sure.”
“Are you…?” She hesitates, then just goes for it. “Are you a lesbian?”
You feel your face heat instantly. There’s no point in lying. She’s looking right at you, and you’re pretty sure your pupils are doing cartoon-heart things.
“Yeah,” you say. “I am.”
Eve studies you for half a second longer.
Then she smiles and says:
“Cute.”
One word.
That’s it.
Cute.
Your brain flatlines.
Cute?
CUTE?
You’re suddenly hyper-aware of every inch of space between you. The way her tank top dips just enough to show the delicate gold chain resting against her collarbone. The faint flush on her cheeks that might be from the walk over or might be from this conversation. The way her fingers are playing absently with the frayed hem of her jeans like she’s nervous too.
You want to die. You also want to frame the word “cute” and hang it on your wall next to the poster.
She doesn’t seem to notice the internal combustion you’re experiencing. She just keeps talking, like she didn’t just detonate your entire nervous system with a single syllable.
“Anyway,” she says, reaching for her sketchbook like nothing happened, “I was thinking about the idea you mentioned last class. What if we made the slats adjustable? Like… louvers. So the light changes with the time of day, but also the users could control how much privacy or openness they want in each reading nook. Does that sound stupid?”
You blink hard. Force your mouth to form words. “No. That’s… that’s actually genius. We could tie it to the brutalist thing too. Raw concrete channels for the mechanisms so it feels industrial but still human.”
Her face lights up again. “Yes. Yes. And maybe small water features under some of the benches? Not a full fountain, just a trickle so you hear it while you read. White noise but alive.”
You’re nodding before she even finishes. “I’ve got some reference photos of the Salk Institute courtyard—that hard geometry with the water channel. We could steal that feeling but soften it with the garden.”
She scoots closer on the bed until her knee bumps yours. Doesn’t move it away.
“Show me,” she says, voice dropping into that excited hush she gets when she’s really into an idea.
You grab your laptop, pull up the folder labeled “LIGHT & SHADOW” (because of course you have a folder labeled LIGHT & SHADOW), and angle the screen so she can see. Your shoulders are almost touching now. Her braid brushes your arm when she leans in.
“God,” she murmurs, scrolling slowly through the images. “You take really beautiful reference shots. These are yours, right? Not just pulled off Pinterest?”
“Yeah,” you mumble. “I walk around with my camera a lot. Especially early morning when the light’s stupidly good.”
She glances sideways at you. “You should shoot the model once we build it. Like… documentary style. Before, during, after. I’d watch that.”
You laugh. “You’d watch me take bad Canon pictures of foam core?”
“I’d watch you do literally anything,” she says.
Casual.
Like it’s nothing.
Your heart stops, restarts, then immediately redlines.
She doesn’t look away. Just keeps that soft, open expression, like she’s waiting for you to catch up.
You clear your throat. “We, uh… should probably sketch the grid first. Before we get too far into aesthetics.”
She nods, but she’s smiling like she knows exactly what she just did to you.
“Okay,” she says sweetly. “But only if you promise to tell me more about why you love that movie so much. I want the full director’s cut commentary.”
You stare at her.
She bumps your knee with hers again.
“Deal?” she asks.
Your voice comes out hoarse. “Deal.”
She grins, grabs one of your pencils, and starts doodling little adjustable slats in the margin of your sketchbook.
And you sit there thinking:
Cute.
She called you cute.
And now she’s drawing in your sketchbook and her knee is still touching yours and you’re pretty sure you’re never going to recover from this afternoon.
The project wraps up around 2 a.m. on a Thursday night that technically bleeds into Friday. You’re both sprawled on your tiny dorm bed because the desk chair became unbearable hours ago, sketch models and half-finished render prints scattered across the comforter like battlefield casualties. The brutalist library with its adjustable-louver roof and whispering water channels is finally done and submitted at 1:47 a.m. via the class portal with thirty seconds to spare.
Eve lets out this long, dramatic exhale and flops backward so her head lands on your pillow, ginger braid half-unraveled now, strands fanning out like spilled sunset.
“We did it. We actually fucking did it. I’m never looking at concrete the same way again.”
You’re sitting cross-legged at the foot of the bed, laptop still open on your thighs even though the screen’s gone dark. “Yeah. It’s… good. Really good. Your section perspectives saved it. The way you drew the light hitting the water, Professor Lang is gonna lose his mind.”
She props herself up on her elbows, grinning. “You wrote the entire materiality report in, what, forty-five minutes? While I was panicking about font choice? You’re secretly a machine.”
“I’m secretly terrified of failing,” you mutter, picking at a loose thread on your hoodie sleeve. “Different thing.”
Eve laughs, the kind of laugh that makes other people in the dorm hallway pause and wonder what’s so funny. “You’re so dramatic. You’re literally one of the best in the class and you act like you’re about to get deported back to high school.”
You shrug, cheeks warm. “I just… don’t want to mess it up. Especially not with you.”
She tilts her head, smile softening. “You didn’t mess anything up. We make a stupidly good team. I’m already dreading next semester when I have to do projects without you.”
Your stomach flips so hard you almost drop the laptop.
She doesn’t let the silence settle. She never does. Instead she rolls onto her side, facing you fully, cheek squished against your pillow.
“What are you doing after this? Like, right now. Are you gonna crash or are you one of those freaks who pulls an all-nighter and then goes to a 9 a.m. lecture like it’s nothing?”
“I was… probably gonna stare at the ceiling until my eyes hurt and then panic about whether we forgot to label the drainage details.”
“Predictable.” She reaches out and flicks your knee lightly with her finger. “Wrong answer. We’re celebrating. You have snacks, right? Everyone has emergency snacks.”
You blink. “Uh… there’s some stale Goldfish in the bottom drawer and half a pack of Sour Patch Kids that might be from last semester.”
“Elite. Hand them over.”
You lean over, fish them out, pass the bag. She rips it open, pops a gummy in her mouth, then holds one out to you between her fingers.
“Open.”
You freeze.
She raises an eyebrow, teasing. “Don’t make me feed you like a baby bird. Open.”
You part your lips. She places the gummy on your tongue with exaggerated care, fingertips brushing the corner of your mouth for half a second. Your brain briefly ceases to function.
She grins like she knows exactly what she just did. “See? Celebration achieved.”
You chew slowly, trying to remember how words work. “You’re… really good at this.”
“At what?”
“Making everything feel easy. Fun. I’m usually alone in my room spiraling and you just show up and it’s like… party mode.”
Eve’s expression shifts. “I like being around you. You’re quiet, but not in a boring way. In a… thinking way. And when you do talk, it’s always something interesting. I never feel like I have to perform around you.”
You swallow. “I feel like I have to perform around everyone. Especially you.”
“Why especially me?”
Because you’re you, you want to say. Because you’re beautiful and kind and everyone wants you and I’m just… me.
Instead you mumble, “You’re popular. And nice. And I’m… not those things.”
She snorts. “Popular? I’m just loud and I know a lot of people’s names. That’s not the same. And you’re nice. You’re so nice it’s actually painful sometimes. You spent twenty minutes explaining shadow studies to that freshman who didn't even know your name.”
You laugh despite yourself. “Yeah, don't remind me.”
“See? You’re memorable. In the best way.” She shifts closer while she talks, like gravity just decided to help her out. Her knee presses against your thigh now. She doesn’t move it.
You’re suddenly very aware of how small your bed is. How close her face is. How her tank top slipped off one shoulder sometime in the last hour and you can see the faint freckle constellation there.
She keeps talking, voice dropping softer. “You know what I like most about hanging out with you?”
You shake your head, barely breathing.
“You don’t try to impress me. You just exist. And it’s nice. I spend so much time around people who want something and with you I can just be. No agenda.”
Your throat is tight. “I do want something.”
She stills. Eyes flick to your mouth, then back up. “Yeah?”
“I want more of this.” You gesture vaguely between you. “The talking. Being around you. I just… don’t know how to ask for it without sounding like a loser.”
Eve’s lips curve. “You’re not a loser. You’re cute when you’re nervous, though. It’s my favorite version of you.”
There it is again. Cute.
Your heart slams so hard you’re sure she can hear it.
She moves again, deliberate this time. Scoots up until she’s sitting right beside you, hip to hip, shoulder to shoulder. Then she turns her whole body toward you, one hand coming up to rest lightly on the mattress near your knee. The other reaches out and tucks a piece of your hair behind your ear. Her fingers linger there, tracing the shell of your ear so softly it’s almost not there.
You stop breathing entirely.
She’s so close now you can see the different shades of green in her eyes: pine and emerald and something almost gold in the lamplight. Her breath smells faintly of Sour Patch Kids and vanilla lip balm.
“Have you ever kissed a girl?” she whispers.
"Uh... no. Not really." You're trembling right now, you can't believe this is happening to you at this moment.
"Have you ever kissed anyone?" she asks again, blinking slowly.
"No..."
Eve lowers her gaze to your bodies, eyes filled with desire and excitement.
"Would you let me your first kiss?"
"Yes!" you say it almost instantly. "Yes, please."
Her smile is instantaneous, bright and relieved. She leans in the last few inches, forehead resting against yours first, like she’s giving you one final chance to bolt.
You don’t.
So she closes the distance.
The kiss is slow. Careful. Like she’s memorizing you. Her lips are soft and warm. One hand cups your jaw; the other slides to the back of your neck, fingers threading into your hair.
You kiss her back, tentative at first, then braver when she makes this pleased sound against your mouth.
When she finally pulls back, her eyes are glassy and her cheeks are flushed.
“Hi,” she says, breathless, grinning like an idiot.
“Hi,” you manage. Your voice cracks on the single syllable.
She laughs quietly, presses another quick kiss to the corner of your mouth. “You’re shaking.”
“Am not.”
“You are.” She takes your hand, laces your fingers together, squeezes. “It’s cute.”
“Stop saying that word.”
“Nuh uh.”
She kisses you again—deeper this time, braver. You melt into it. Her hands find your waist, hesitant, then firmer when she sighs into your mouth like she’s been waiting for this forever. She pulls you closer to her until you are practically straddling her legs.
Her whole body is warm, the mix of heat, taste and sounds making you total mess. At some point, with her hands touching your back, waist and hips, you can't help but let out a needy whimper.
You feel your cheeks burn, and Eve breaks the kiss to just stare at you with a smirk. Her lips are shiny, even more when she licks them to collect all the saliva you left there.
Eve’s smirk softens into something warmer, almost tender, as she watches the flush crawl down your neck. She doesn’t laugh at the whimper, she just studies you like you’re the most fascinating thing she’s ever seen.
“Hey,” she murmurs, thumb brushing slow circles over the apple of your cheek. “That sound you just made? Fucking gorgeous. Don’t hide it.”
You duck your head anyway. “I-I didn’t mean to—”
“Ah-ah-ah.” She catches your chin gently, lifts your face back up so you have to meet her eyes. “I want to hear more of them. A lot more.”
Your breath hitches. You’re still in her lap, thighs bracketing hers, her hands resting loose and warm on your hips like she’s giving you permission to bolt at any second. But you don’t want to bolt. You want to disappear into her. You just have no idea what comes next.
Eve seems to read it on your face. She leans in, presses the softest kiss to the corner of your jaw, then another just below your ear.
“Talk to me,” she whispers against your skin. “Tell me what feels good so far. And what doesn’t. No wrong answers.”
You swallow hard. “Everything… everything feels good. Too good. I’m just nervous. Really nervous.”
“Yeah?” She pulls back enough to look at you properly, green eyes steady and patient. “That’s okay. We can go as slow as you need. Or stop. Or just kiss like this for the rest of the night. Whatever you want.”
You shake your head quickly. “I don’t want to stop.”
“That's good. Me neither.” She strokes your sides lightly, thumbs brushing the hem of your hoodie. “Can I take this off? Or is that too fast?”
Your heart jackhammers. “You can. I mean, if you want.”
“I want,” she says simply. “But only if you do.”
You nod, lifting your arms like you’re a kid being undressed for bed. She laughs under her breath and peels the hoodie over your head. Cool air hits your skin and you instinctively hunch your shoulders, suddenly hyper-aware of the thin tank top underneath, the way your nipples are already peaked against the fabric from nerves and arousal and the fact that Eve fucking Wilkins is looking at you like this.
She doesn’t stare like it’s a performance. She just looks. Appreciative. Hungry, but careful.
“God,” she breathes. “You’re so pretty.”
You make a small, disbelieving noise.
“I’m serious.” She traces one finger down the center of your chest, between your breasts, slow enough that you feel every millimeter. “I’ve been thinking about this for weeks. Imagining what you’d look like under all those oversized hoodies.”
“Weeks?” Your voice cracks.
“Mhm.” She leans in, kisses the hollow of your throat. “Since the first time you explained your light studies in class and I couldn’t stop staring at your mouth while you talked.”
You whimper again—quieter this time, but she still hears it. Her teeth graze your pulse point, just enough to make your hips jerk forward involuntarily.
“There it is,” she murmurs, pleased. “You like when I use my teeth a little?”
“I—yeah. I think so.”
“Noted.” She does it again, softer, then soothes the spot with her tongue. “What else? You can say anything. Or nothing. I can just keep guessing if you want.”
You bury your face in her shoulder for a second, gathering courage. “I like… when you talk. Like this. Telling me what you’re doing. Or what you want.”
Eve hums approval against your neck. “You like being talked through it?”
Heat floods your face. “Yeah.”
“Fuck, that’s hot.” She pulls back so she can see you again. “Okay. Then I’ll keep talking. And you tell me if anything feels off. Promise?”
“Promise.”
She kisses you again, tongue sliding against yours in a way that makes your thighs clench around her hips. When she breaks it, she’s breathing harder.
“Hands up,” she says quietly.
You obey instantly. She slips your tank top off in one smooth motion, tosses it somewhere behind her. Then she just looks, taking in the way your chest rises and falls too fast, the faint goosebumps everywhere, the way you’re already arching toward her without meaning to.
“Can I touch you here?” Her palm hovers over one breast, not quite making contact.
“Please.”
She cups you gently at first, thumb brushing over your nipple in a slow circle. You gasp. She does it again, firmer, and your head tips back.
“Sensitive,” she notes, voice rough. She leans down, replaces her thumb with her mouth, tongue flicking once, twice, then sucking lightly.
Your hips buck hard. A broken sound spills out of you before you can stop it.
Eve pulls off with a soft pop, looks up at you through her lashes. “Too much?”
“No—no, keep—keep going.”
She smiles against your skin. “Tell me what you want next.”
You hesitate, then whisper, “Your hand… lower.”
She doesn’t tease you for it. Just kisses a slow path down your sternum, your stomach, while her fingers trace the waistband of your sweats.
“These okay to come off?”
You nod frantically.
She hooks her fingers under the elastic, drags them down your thighs along with your underwear in one careful motion. You lift your hips to help, trembling the whole time.
When you’re bare in front of her, she pauses letting her eyes roam.
“Jesus,” she mutters. “You’re beautiful.”
You start to protest out of habit, but she silences you with a look.
“I mean it.” She settles between your legs again, hands sliding up the insides of your thighs, spreading you gently. “And I’m gonna make you feel so good, okay? Just breathe for me.”
You try. It’s hard when she’s looking at you like that.
She drags one finger through your folds and groans low in her throat when she feels how wet you already are.
“Fuck, baby. All this for me?”
You can’t speak. Just nod, hips twitching toward her hand.
She circles your clit once and you jolt like you’ve been shocked.
“Too much?” she checks immediately.
“No! Just sensitive. Really sensitive.”
“Okay. Easy.” She kisses your neck again. “I’ll go slow. Tell me if you want more, or less, or different. Anything.”
You manage a shaky, “More. Please.”
She smiles against your skin, then presses two fingers inside you, letting you adjust. You both moan at the same time.
“Good?” she whispers.
“So good.”
She curls them slightly, searching, and when she finds that spot your whole body arches.
“There?” she asks, already knowing.
You can only whimper.
She keeps that rhythm while her thumb brushes your clit in lazy circles. Her other hand strokes your hip, grounding you.
“Look at me,” she says softly.
You force your eyes open. She’s watching your face like she’s memorizing every flicker, every gasp.
“You’re doing so well,” she murmurs. “Letting me touch you like this. Letting me see you fall apart. So fucking pretty.”
The praise hits harder than her fingers. You clench around her, hips rocking instinctively.
“Close?” she asks.
You nod, frantic.
“Tell me when. I want to feel it.”
A few more strokes, her long fingers hitting all the perfect spots, and you’re there.
“Eve, Eve, I’m—”
“I’ve got you,” she whispers. “Come for me, baby.”
You shatter around her fingers with a choked cry, thighs shaking, hands fisting the sheets. She doesn’t stop, just works you through it slow and gentle until you’re whimpering because of the aftershocks.
When you finally collapse, boneless, she eases her fingers out, kisses your jaw once more, then crawls back up to lie beside you. Pulls you into her arms like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
You’re still trembling. She strokes your hair, your back, murmuring soft nonsense against your temple.
“You okay?” she asks after a minute.
You nod against her collarbone. “More than okay.”
She smiles—you can feel it. “Good. We’re nowhere near done.”
You laugh, shaky and happy. “You’re gonna kill me.”
“Only in the best way.” She kisses your forehead. “Rest for a sec. Then it’s your turn to tell me what you want to try next.”
You bury your face in her neck, smiling so wide it hurts.
For once, you don’t feel like a nervous, inexperienced loser.
You just feel wanted.
And it’s the best thing you’ve ever felt.
a/n: this might be cliche but it's been a long time since i don't write for eve and i missed my gorgeous girl so much
pairings: Poly!SaShiSu x f!Reader
synopsis: even in spite of it all, you crawl home to her.
inspired by Hozier's "Work Song"
tags: angst, (some) fluff, mentions of death, grief/grieving, hurt/comfort
notes: here it is! tysm for everyone who waited so very patiently for this fic, i love you all to bits!! dividers by @uzmacchiato and @kodaswrld. fanart by @neuchimonai on twitter & bluesky.
Hozier project m.list
wc: 2,054
It's a chilly evening for the summertime in Tokyo, and you can feel the cold nipping at the flesh of your exposed arms as you slide the key into the lock of your front door.
Eagerly, you press your weight into the wood after hearing the satisfying click of the deadbolt receding, sighing a breath of relief as the warmth of home floods your being.
Smiling softly to yourself, you move to slip off your shoes, glancing up at the photo that decorates the otherwise plain wall beside the coat rack. It depicts a much younger you alongside much younger versions of your partners, playing a game of chicken on a beach somewhere.
In it, you're sitting atop Shoko's shoulders, hands clasped with Satoru's in an effort to unseat him, while beneath you, Suguru and Shoko are playfully glaring at one another, hands poised in a threat to grab.
It's a fond memory of a happy moment, one taken just a few months after you'd all given up on the whole "just really close friends who happen to kiss sometimes" thing and finally started officially dating.
Your expression softens a bit as you recall that it was Haibara who took that photo of you all - and you swear that you can almost hear his laughter behind the camera even all these years later.
You miss him.
You miss a lot about those days.
Still, you shake off that thought before it can fester into something unmanageable, lining your shoes up beside the only other pair before walking deeper into the home.
The hallway greets you with more snapshots, each frame a breadcrumb trail of who you used to be - who you all were together.
Satoru, Suguru, and Shoko all asleep on your bedroom floor after a long night of cramming for a test the following day.
Shoko trying to teach Satoru reversed curse technique while he shamelessly attempted to cop a feel.
You donning a cone shaped hat labelled 'birthday girl!' while Suguru and Shoko kissed each of your cheeks - Satoru grinning wide and offering the camera a peace sign as he snaps the closest thing to an early 2000s selfie that your old film camera had allowed at the time.
All four of you at some arcade somewhere, your ring finger adorned with a comically large fake ring that Satoru had "proposed" to you with as you and Shoko watched him and Suguru try to beat one another at some ridiculous fighting game.
But, of course, eventually things started to change. The photos began to grow more recent, and as they did, Suguru's absence from them became glaringly apparent.
Still, there were moments of happiness to be found - even in spite of the ache that always seemed to follow their memory.
Like the photo of you, Shoko, and Satoru at the former's med school graduation, each of you with an arm wrapped proudly around her waist as she held up her diploma.
Her hair was longer there than it was in any of the previous pictures. She'd decided to grow it out after Suguru's departure, and you'd never needed to ask her why.
Or in the next image, which depicted you and Satoru brushing your teeth in the bathroom mirror, mouths foamy with toothpaste and eyelids heavy with sleep.
You were pretty sure that your boyfriend had taken that to accompany one of his many good morning texts to your shared girlfriend, who was always up before both you and Satoru (at least on the days where the latter got to sleep at all).
Shoko always said that it was one of her favorites, a reminder of the pair of idiots who made her look forward to coming home each evening.
Still, the next one was probably the one you adored most.
In it, Satoru slept peacefully, his head resting atop your girlfriend's lap. The woman in question held the camera (aka her phone) far above the two of them, a playful and clearly exaggerated frown on her face that seemed to say 'really?'.
There was a book on her chest, propped open to the page she had paused her reading on (most likely having realized that the person she'd been reading to was actually fast asleep).
If you looked close enough, you could just make out the cover - one of many pregnancy and parenting guides that had begun quietly piling up around your apartment back then.
And yet, none of the photos on the walls showed a child. Not a single one.
And eventually, Satoru disappeared too.
In spite of it all though, the beautiful moments persist, unaware of absence or grief.
Like the day that Yuji, Megumi, and Nobara all graduated, you and Shoko stood proud and smiling at their sides.
Or the day that you proposed to her, down on one knee with that ridiculous ring that Satoru had given you all those years ago.
Or the day that the two of you got married - a private little ceremony with very few guests save for the students you loved so dearly and the ashes of those who should have been there with you held in lockets pressed close to your hearts.
But there should have been more.
You wished beyond anything else in the world that there could have been more.
Pets, and babies, and achievements, and black hair, and blue eyes, and love beyond measure.
But still, you at least found that last thing waiting for you in the kitchen.
Shoko stood there, bathed in the gentle candlelight emitted by what had once been Suguru's favorite scent of candle and the soft glow of the bulb above, expression one of adorable concentration as she read over a recipe from the box of organized index cards that sat atop your kitchen counter.
You take a step forward, eager to feel the steady and certain weight of her held in your arms, but falter when you see a door you don't recognize on the wall just opposite of the place she stands.
It looks incredibly out of place, the bright white light that creeps out from under it a stark contrast to the honeyed warmth that the bulb above you gives off.
And even stranger still, your wife doesn't pay it any mind at all.
Nor does she seem to even realize that you're there.
You watch her for a few moments, throat tightening for reasons you don't quite understand before finally, you tear your gaze away and bring it back to the strange door.
It's a plain stark white, sticking out like a sore thumb, and the hardware is a clinical and cold looking steel, a jarring difference from the bronze knobs and hinges that exist within your home.
You don't think you want to step through, some voice in the back of your head insisting that you shouldn't, but in the end you find yourself turning the handle before you've even realized that you moved at all.
And when the door opens, the light is nearly blinding in comparison to the dark warmth of your apartment.
Bright, white, clean in a way that suggests the absence of dirt as a whole, as if this place has never known dust, decay, or any of the other messy things that life guarantees.
Something in you registers this space as some sort of airport, an area made for transitions, but that hardly matters when you notice the two figures sitting on a bench nearby.
They smile at you as if they'd never left, like it had all been some sort of awful nightmare and this was the part where you finally got to wake up.
But you were starting to remember now.
So this time, you knew better.
They make a space for you between them as you approach, gazes full of subtle sorrow and obvious longing.
"Back so soon?"
Suguru teases lightly, fingers gentle as he brushes something wet from your cheek.
His thumb comes away stained red, but neither of you acknowledge it.
Satoru speaks up before you can formulate a response.
“You should really be more careful,” he says, mirroring Suguru’s teasing. “This is your third mission-related accident this year.”
He pauses for a moment, blue eyes seeking out yours before he continues,
“If you miss us, just say that. No need for all the dramatics.”
And, despite the leaden feeling in your chest, you laugh, eyes rolling and smile trembling as your head falls upon his shoulder, fingers linking with Suguru's in the same moment.
"I miss you guys."
The words are barely above a whisper as they're spoken, but you've long since learned that they don't have to be.
This is far from your first time here, and you doubt that it will be your last.
Still, it never really got any easier.
A calm quiet fills the space, the warmth on either side of you a welcome feeling after having gone so long without it.
However, it isn't long before someone speaks up once more.
"You can always stay."
Suguru reminds you, tone laced with sympathy as his hand squeezes yours,
"You can only put this off for so long."
Still, you can tell from his voice alone that he already knows what you'll say next.
Your eyes are full of grief and certainty as they meet his own once more.
"I can't leave her."
Three pairs of eyes look back toward the open doorway all at once, gazing into the life that anchors you.
Shoko is still stood there in the kitchen, back to the counter as she checks the time on her phone, fingers tapping the back of the device in that way they always do when she starts to get anxious.
You wince a bit as you watch her answer a phone call soon after, something dangerously close to panic marring her beautiful features before she suddenly rushes off in the direction of the front door.
"We need each other."
Your words are whispered, lips pulling into a thin line as they're spoken.
"I could never go before she does. Not as long as I can help it."
You feel Satoru press a kiss to your temple, tone uncharacteristically serious as he speaks.
"And if you can't?"
The obvious guilt in his voice makes your heart clench.
He never meant to leave you both behind.
That choice was never his to make.
You feel yourself shake your head in response, slowly raising it from his shoulder as you prepare yourself for yet another painful goodbye.
"I won't let that happen. I can't give myself the option of letting go - not when she's waiting."
You can feel the two men exchange a glance above your head, but they make no attempt to talk you out of your decision. They'd given up on such a feat a long time ago.
Two pairs of soft lips find each of your cheeks, but you don't have it in you to look at either of your partners as you finally move to stand, gaze focused solely on the nearby doorway.
You worry that if you glance back, you'll give in.
There's never anything easy about leaving two thirds of your heart behind, even when you know it's the right thing to do.
They could wait a little longer, and so could you.
As long as it took.
As long as she needed.
There is no closure as you step through the door, no words of comfort shared before your sharp return to reality.
That peace was reserved solely for the end.
You wake up to white walls and a stiff mattress beneath your back.
And still, even despite the less than comfortable accommodations, Shoko's clinic is always a welcome sight.
"You came back."
The voice that comes from your right is familiar and followed shortly by a hand that comes to entwine itself with your own.
You don't have to look to see who it is, but you do anyway, because no matter what, it could never possibly be enough.
Shoko sits at your bedside, deep brown eyes meeting yours, allowing you to see the unspoken devotion that shows plainly within them.
You squeeze her hand then, knowing you made the right choice.
Someday, you would all be together again, and things would be as they should.
I BET ON LOSING DOGS | GOJO SATORU X READER & SASHISU X READER ♥︎
♡ CHAPTER TWO: my baby, my baby
♡ SYNOPSIS: After Suguru visits you for the first time in nearly a decade, you find yourself adrift and decide to take some time away from your lovers to recuperate from such an event. Unfortunately, Satoru doesn't let you hide for long.
♡ A.N: This is, indeed, a repost, so if it looks familiar, that's why! I decided I'd rather have a xreader-focused sideblog <3
PREVIOUS ♡ AO3 ♡ M.LIST/TAGLIST ♡ NEXT
There are multiple text notifications on your phone after you finish cleaning up. Too many to count from Satoru. Two from Shoko. One from Yuuta-kun. They’re all updates and questions about your well-being. It brings a smile to your face, lasting long enough to make your cheeks hurt as you cook a simple breakfast. Simple because you need something light, and there’s nothing else in your fridge—there never is.
White rice and bare miso soup—the green onions and package of untouched tofu had to be thrown out with how spoiled they were. Despite your precaution, each bite tastes rotten. It seems like Suguru has left you with this affliction once again. You shoot off a few replies as you discard what’s left, washing the dishes and placing them on a drying rack.
You sit on the couch, closing your eyes, and sink into Suguru’s lingering residuals. He hadn’t erased them when he left. An act of cruelty or kindness, you do not know, but the familiar twang of bitterness followed by something mellow soothes a hurt inside of you that he left you with. It was too naive to believe he’d stay for a proper goodbye, but you thought that maybe—well, it doesn’t matter now.
You feel tender like a bruise, the gaping hole that had slowly scabbed over in his absence had been torn asunder. Some time away and alone would be necessary to heal it enough to go on with your life. As much as you want to nuzzle into Shoko’s arms while Satoru’s arms engulf both of you, you know it won’t happen. Those two’s intimacy is limited to brief fucks and the occasional peck on the cheek or brief clasp of hands. You’ve never gained the courage to ask why it’s stayed that way. Irrationally but perhaps correctly, you believe it has to do with you rather than the—missing—elephant in the room. It’s moments like this you miss them both, but perhaps it’s for the best that it isn’t a possibility. It would only tip them off that something is wrong. You’ll only be unbalanced for a few days, and then, the encounter will be behind you.
It has to be.
A ring interrupts your inner monologue. It’s a call from your auxiliary manager, a member of the Gojo clan that Satoru had foisted upon you, one that you had come to begrudgingly accept in the years since her assignment. You answer it as you finally bring yourself to cleanse Suguru’s residuals. A quick slash of your cursed energy easily snuffs out what remains as Minoru-san reminds you of the mission you had signed up for the day before. She’s five minutes out, which leaves you just enough time to grab your fresh sheets from the dryer and fix your bedding. Now, everything is reset. If only you could do the same to yourself.
You leave your apartment and enter Minoru-san’s car, looking over the case file from your tablet as she drives you to the subway station. She informs you that she has already arranged for a rental to be there upon arrival and that there should be very little pushback from the workers of the building the curse is currently residing in. You like how succinct she is, like how she doesn’t hold a grudge against you for being forced into this role.
Before Satoru had practically ordered her to exchange careers, she had been a Second Grade sorcerer, and before that, she had been the most likely candidate in his clan to become his bride. Thankfully, she had never cared for that and had known since your first Goodwill Event that Satoru would never deign anyone who wasn’t one of his yearmates a second glance, let alone consider marriage. However, you remember she had been irritated at being relegated to such a position when Satoru first poached her. It was only when she realized why she was chosen, her large cursed energy reserves, that her irritation began to fade. Consuming a curse’s energy after depleting too much of your own was a surefire way of running the risk of acting a bit too similar to the curse—dangerous and unhinged. Minoru-san’s cursed energy is a good counter, which Satoru knew, of course.
Today’s mission involves an infestation of a few first grades and more lower-grade curses, which would usually be relegated to Satoru, but since he’s busy in Kyoto, it’s been assigned to you. You’ve gone against worse, but, likely, Minoru-san’s energy alone won’t be enough to overcome what you will absorb from them. It doesn’t have to, though; it just needs to help tide you over until your own cursed energy replenishes or you make contact with one of your friends.
The drawback of your cursed technique is the state it leaves you in, always leaving you craving more. No matter what the more takes a form in. It’s why you struggle with addiction and healthy eating habits. It blindsides you most of the time, but that’s what the people that surround you are for—to keep you tethered to reality. Having got a taste of Suguru’s has left you with a bad taste in your mouth and an unearthed longing for him. It’s a dangerous position to be in, so you reach forward and brush your fingers against Minoru-san’s shoulder and zap a minuscule amount from her. She doesn’t even notice, too busy navigating the road, and it soothes you enough to ignore the desire to reach out for him.
The mission is completed within an hour once all is said and done, and you’re itching for a fix or a fight. You can’t quite tell, but Minoru-san rushes to you as soon as you dispel the barrier. Your fingertips dig into her tender flesh, a cool sweep of her energy intermingling with your own, and the frenzy fades as easily as it comes.
You give her your thanks, and she says it’s not a problem, that she’s glad to be of help. She’s not quite a friend and more than a coworker or subordinate, but you’re grateful for her companionship regardless of how it began. Others would not be so understanding of being drained dry of their main fighting source, but Minoru-san has never minded or complained. Although she is no longer an active sorcerer, she is still reliable, be it through her continued training or allowing you to steal her cursed energy. Satoru chose well; it warms you from within to know how much effort he put in towards your safety despite your status as a Special Grade.
As she walks beside you back to the rental, Minoru-san calls the hotel that was booked to apprise them of your incoming approach. She always negotiates the highest budget possible for missions like these, so you’re certain that the room she booked for you will be extravagant. You had questioned her once as to why she did so, and she had replied that you deserved nothing but the best, practically deeming you Satoru’s wife and therefore one of the heads of her clan.
Not an incorrect assumption, seeing as you completed half of his paperwork regarding those matters when he was overworked and exhausted, which was often. It had been this way since you were teens, disregarding the period when your relationship had been terribly fraught. Yet, marriage with him wasn’t in the cards for you, and not because of your lineage, or lack thereof, but because it would feel unfair to Shoko. You never wanted to diminish her importance to you, even though she had stated that it wouldn’t be a bother. The dynamic would change again, though, and that is the last thing that you wanted.
What more are the expectations that would be thrust upon you—children. It’s not that you didn’t want them. On the contrary, buried deep within your soul was a fierce desire for them. It had been fed with Megumi and Tsumiki, but Megumi no longer turned to you, and the less said about Tsumiki’s state, the better. You had, naively, thought that Tsumiki wasn’t the one to worry about because it was Megumi who was becoming a sorcerer, but how wrong you’d been. A brutal reminder of why having children was a bad idea, but the fantasy that Suguru had implanted in your mind had stoked the flames of yearning into something near uncontrollable.
As a teen, when you let yourself believe in that impossible future, you’d always imagine the four of you living in the clan estate that Satoru had invited you all to during Tanabata in 2006. It wasn’t too pretentious, nor was it quaint. The space could be filled, and until it was, your lovers would be enough to take up the empty space.
Satoru would give you a boy and maybe a girl, but ultimately, Suguru would give you an army of little girls to dote upon and love like they deserved. It had been obvious even before his handling of Riko-chan that he had a soft spot for young girls, and now, with the knowledge of how he attained the twins, his preference could not be denied. Of course, it doesn’t work like that, something Shoko would remind you of as she performed the necessary checkups, yet you had a feeling you’d get what you want. Slowly but surely, your home would be filled.
Now, that dream has changed drastically because everything else has too. You decide not to linger on what it would look like presently because you feel too raw to examine it. Suguru had plucked at every vulnerable string you possessed, unravelling them and leaving your soul laid bare.
Entering the rental, you notice that there are even more text notifications on your phone, but you don’t look at them. You’ll check them before bed or in the morning. They won’t expect an immediate reply anyway because you’re not the best at responding. Your habits will obscure the fact that you are actively avoiding them. You’ll feel bad about deceiving them later, but for now, you’re grateful for the reprieve it brings you.
Still, guilt creeps up on you, and you derail Minoru-san’s original instruction by asking her to take you to the city proper to attain souvenirs. She nods with a smile and changes route immediately, like this had always been the plan. In your Suguru-induced haze, you had forgotten the typical itinerary for remote missions, which was always to gather an alarming amount of souvenirs and explore the surrounding shops and a museum or two. You’ll have to get more than usual to make up for being absent from the student’s Goodwill Event.
Minoru-san is keenly observant but doesn’t bring attention to your misstep, only tells you what’s near and will be open for the day, as well as the best shops. You’ll have to get her an exceptional gift when the holidays come around, maybe a vacation. You can always borrow Ijichi-san from Satoru for a week or two, or maybe you’ll snag Satoru himself. Of all the people you steal cursed energy from, Satoru’s is your favorite. Overwhelmingly sweet and more than enough to satiate your needs.
All in all, it’s a few hours until you reach your original destination. Minoru-san’s cursed energy has replenished your own, completely indistinguishable from yours, but the kind you absorbed from the curses continues to linger at the edge of your consciousness. It never takes this long for its will to submit to your own, but it must recognize what you’ve kept stubbornly hidden in the deepest recesses of your core, a small well of Suguru’s dangerously inviting energy in its purest form, and a prey will always recognize its predator.
Your body is built to house as many foreign energies as you can absorb, but foolishly, you like to keep a few in their original state. Satoru’s is a constant supply within you, but you steal away a portion to hoard away the same way you do Shoko’s and now Suguru’s once again. When he forced you away in 2007, you had almost drained him dry in your despair, and not a drop of his cursed energy was absorbed because you had buried it so deep within. It lasted for three short years before a special grade curse forced you to absorb it as your own.
This time, it will be gone in the blink of an eye if you are not cautious, and you will be helpless to the emptiness it will bring you. There is nothing you can do about that, though; Suguru is set in his ways. For now, you will simply cherish the fact that all of your lovers are never far. You simply have to call them forth, and there they will be. You cradle them gently, tenderly, lovingly, basking in the complexities of their soul as you begin to unwind for the night.
As expected, the hotel room Minoru-san chose for you is ostentatious and expansive, with full amenities, a king-sized bed, and a large bathroom with an enticing tub. It reminds you of something that Satoru would choose for himself. Normally, it would be a nice deviation from your plain apartment, but it only stands to remind you of how alone you truly are. You cannot fill in this emptiness. Only the three separate wells of your lovers’ energies ground you.
You run the bath, turning the knob to boiling, before sitting down to separate the souvenirs you bought into different bags for the people they are intended for. Unsurprisingly, Satoru’s is the most filled. Of all the recipients of these gifts, he will be the most appreciative. You love to spoil him even though he has the means to buy whatever he wants, mostly because he knows that when you do, it’s because you’re thinking of him, and you think of him often. You don’t do much with your salary anyway, and Shoko is practical the way you are, so the gifts she receives are expensive bottles of alcohol, and you’d much rather spend it on Satoru than yourself.
You’re finished quickly, but the bath is not even halfway full. In the meantime, you strip and take a quick shower to wash away the specks of gunk you collected as you exorcised the infestation of curses. There’s very little, as Minoru-san provided you with sanitary wipes to clean yourself earlier in the day, but you still feel unclean. By the time you’ve scrubbed yourself until your skin is red and raw, the bath is at the right level.
It’s as you're about to step in that your stomach grumbles. Food won’t go down easily, but a drink will. There are a few bottles of sake and wine inside the fridge, but just staring at them turns your stomach. It may be best to steer clear of any alcohol for the foreseeable future, yet another thing Suguru has tainted. Instead, you opt for a can of melon soda. It’s something Satoru would choose, obnoxiously sweet. You hope it will wash away the bitter taste that persists due to Suguru’s visit.
Your phone rings; the tune is something Satoru chose for himself in your first year, the instrumental theme for Digimon. It brings a small smile to your face to remember the first time he heard it and realized what it was. His face had completely lit up, different from all the times before. Not that they weren’t genuine before, but he truly had looked touched. He had talked about it only once before, but he had sounded so passionate about it during the scant time he defended it to Suguru when the other boy stated that Pokémon was superior. That moment stuck with you, so when you were granted a phone, it was his ringtone you picked out first. It’s that same theme that plays out now. You let it ring, and don’t answer.
Cowardly, maybe, but Satoru will just assume that your phone is too far from your person to pick it up. Though you’re not the best with texting, when he calls, you always answer, same with Shoko and Megumi. It won’t stand out from all the other instances. You can just pretend you left it in the rental. Your phone pings repeatedly in quick succession. Like a fool, you instinctively grab it, swiping up and staring at the barrage of messages Satoru has sent you.
satoru <3
22:49; i miss u :( it’s been sooooo long. shoko complained about your absence too,,, in her own way, but i swear she did!!
22:49; we’re at an izakaya now. it’s so boring without you that i’ve resorted to messing with utahime. ughhh she’s such a bore. i wish you were here. next year i’m not letting you off the hook!
22:50; oops shoko thinks you might be sleeping.
22:50; are you? hope i didn’t wake you up, but i reallyyyy miss you. they say absence makes the heart grow fonder and they’d be right
22:50; shoko says i’m a mess without you but she’s the same as me so she's barking up the wrong tree. she’s just as pathetic as i am without you.
22:51; i know you’re safe, minoru updated me earlier, but i’d still like to see it with all my six eyes. and shoko probably would like to check up on you too.
22:52; okay gonna stop bothering you if you really are sleeping. love youuuu~ ♡
Your heart flutters in your chest rapidly, and a smile grows on your face. You can’t deny how much joy it brings you to see how much they both love you. Any reminder, no matter how small, sets your heart aflame, even a decade later. However, it only worsens your mood as guilt and shame sour the small interaction. You should know better than to hide away like this; the two of them will find out. There’s no way of hiding your fragile mental state, and only one person is capable of eliciting this kind of behavior from you.
The moment Satoru asks a probing question or Shoko cradles your face like you’re something precious, you’ll fall apart like a house of cards. It’s not like this short time away has helped substantially. All it’s done is make you entirely too despondent because this is what he does to you. This is why Satoru never recounts his outings with him and why Shoko never mentions him. They’re both so resilient when it comes to his betrayal, while you had gone to him the first chance you could get and only stayed away because it was what he asked of you. Compared to them, you are so weak when it comes to him, and you hate it. Not him, never him, even after all he’s done. You can hate his stupid decisions and idiotic ideals, but you can’t bring yourself to hate him.
You leave Satoru on read and put your phone down, sinking further into the now tepid water. If he hears your voice, he will know, and you’re not yet ready for that confrontation. You hardly ever deny him, so he will make note of this. Just one more day of languishing, and you will get over this bout of melancholy. It will weigh less in the morning. Despite that thought, you long to be with him. Satoru, more than anyone, will understand this particular plight, yet that is what stops you in your tracks. There is so very little you can do to help ease his troubles. He doesn’t need to bear your problems when the load he carries is far greater than anyone else’s.
It’s just unfortunate that while you continue to stew in your misery, you forget that Satoru has been capable of long-distance teleporting for years now.
As you drain the bath, dry yourself, and put on one of the complimentary robes, it seems that Satoru let himself in because there, on the obscenely large bed, is your partner, kicking his feet back and forth on the edge of the bed with a wide smile on his face as he greets you. It only confirms your belief that he doesn’t know. It’s not the time of month when they see each other, and you rid yourself and your apartment of his residuals while eating breakfast after his departure. It had tasted like acrid sludge, just like everything else you've had since then.
Witnessing him like this settles your tumultuous cursed energy, something you hadn’t even noticed was a problem until the change took place. He has always been your safety net, and now more than ever, you yearn to spill your heart to him, to bear your soul before him, to allow him complete control. He will know what to do with you. You’re certain Satoru will be successful in purifying the rot festering within you. He has experience, after all.
A burden shared is a burden halved; Satoru will forgive you for unloading this onto him. He has forgiven much worse things, and really, this is something he is well equipped to handle.
You don’t bother flicking the lights on; Satoru’s eyes, alone, will see the truth that’s laid out on you and within you, and the moonlight should suffice for your measly vision. You need not confess what took place when your body tells it all. Satoru’s usual chatterbox of a mouth comes to a stop, watching you intensely as you untie the robe and let it fall to the floor.
His eyes scan the bruises and hickies and bites Suguru left on you, and you wonder if he recognizes them by familiarity alone. He’s surely seen the same set of handprints and teeth marks on his own body. Does he admire them the way you do before inevitably healing them and coming back to you? He doesn’t keep your marks either, but you keep his. You’ll be keeping Suguru’s too, and you hope the marks you left on Suguru remain when the two men meet up in the next few days.
“Found a new lover, have you?”
“No. I’ve just reconnected with an old one.” You slip into his lap, Infinity giving way to you immediately as you wrap your arms around his neck, stealing away a portion of his cursed energy by rote as you do so. You rest your forehead against his own, staring into where you know his eyes are. “You’d know all about that, wouldn’t you, Satoru?”
As you tug the bandages off him gently, he stares at you with something you can’t name. You wonder what it is he sees when he gazes upon you. He’s all-seeing, all-knowing, but exactly how omniscient is he?
Can he see the evidence of your attempt to exorcise Suguru’s residuals? The curl of Suguru’s power resting deep within you, besides his own and Shoko’s? The devastation Suguru’s departure has done to your psyche?
Of course, he can, and it’s not because of his Six Eyes.
Satoru knows you, and oh, what a thing it is to be known.
He doesn’t judge you, doesn’t get angry, or even pity you as his eyes soak up all the information they can. He’d be a hypocrite if he did, but he would never. He understands the distinct effect Suguru has on you because Satoru is just the same when it comes to him. This specific affliction is something only the two of you share: weak-willed in the face of love.
Still, the blankness he projects leaves you feeling a little disquieted. It’s unnatural, and you dislike it, so you pull him into a kiss. He tastes as sweet as ever, and what a relief it is to have the bitter rot be replaced by one that’s saccharine.
There will be time for a heart-to-heart later. For now, though, your bodies will do all the talking.
Satoru is greedy as always, quickly turning what was supposed to be a sweet kiss into something filthy as he uses both tongue and teeth to get you worked up. You feel reluctant to pull back for breath, but your lungs are burning for air. You admire his flushed face when you do. It’s a much better look on him than his previously unreadable one. He’s just so pretty, and there’s nothing you want more in this moment than to witness him looking completely debauched. For that reason alone, you palm his length through his slacks and delight in the way his hips jerk into your heated touch as he lets out a needy moan.
He’s always so quick to arouse, but then again, so are you. The wet spot you’ve left on his pants is evidence of that. He pulls you into another kiss that leaves you with an aftertaste of something sickly sweet. You’re accustomed to this kind of bite, crave it even, but even so, you find yourself missing Suguru’s specific breed of decay as it's replaced by Satoru’s.
Satoru, in tune with your body as always, spreads his legs wider to accommodate you properly as you straddle one of his thighs, and his hands go back to your hips. He can suffer a little while you chase your peak.
You begin by rocking your hips gently to rub your very wet cunt against his thigh, nails digging into his shoulder. Leaning back just enough to brace yourself on his knee, you pick up pace and intensity. The friction against your clit each time you grind on him feels electrifying, your belly tightening with each drag against the bud of sensitive nerves.
It’s not going to be enough. Satoru’s been watching you, rapt, impatient to be an active participant, so you lean your chest closer to his mouth. He latches onto one of your breasts, immediately understanding your body language, his teeth sinking into the supple flesh. The added stimulation makes you shiver and moan, clenching your thighs tight around his leg and riding it harder than before.
“You—hah—can be rougher, Sa–to–ru.” One of your hands tangles in his hair, pushing his face further into your chest. His teeth clamp down harder, and his fingers dig deeper into your hips. A low moan escapes your mouth. “That’s it,” you say breathlessly as your lover helps you along, fingers running over his bulge teasingly as a reward.
He switches to your other nipple, swirling around it with his tongue before his teeth sink in. You halt in your motions, body stiff as your peak quickly approaches, and Satoru takes that as an incentive to guide your hips back and forth on his thigh. High moans fall from your mouth without permission as his mouth travels to your sensitive neck, lips, teeth, and tongue, trailing everywhere Suguru was the night before.
“Satoru, ‘m close,” you whine, breath catching as he murmurs your name into the nape of your neck—gives his permission easily. There isn’t enough time for games. You yank his head up and slot your lips against his own as your thighs shake around him, cunt pulsing and gushing against his thigh.
He deepens the kiss, and you slump on him as you go boneless. It’s nice to let him do what he wants as you come down from your high. It only takes a few moments before you pull away, feeling present again—well, as present as you can be. There’s still a part of you that resides with Suguru, and going by the look in Satoru’s eyes as he stares down at you, he knows it too.
You don’t let him get a word in as you slink off him and sit before his knees. Your hands unclasp and unzip his slacks, shimmying them and his boxers down and off. He’s already hard and leaking, a product of all your earlier teasing. You lean forward, one hand curled around his inner thigh and the other one delicately wrapped around the base of his cock as you guide it to your lips.
Once his tip is past your lips, Satoru threads his fingers into your hair and slides more of his length into your mouth. You keep your eyes focused on him, and he does the same, eyes glowing imperceptibly in the dark. He begins to fuck your mouth lazily, shallowly thrusting, as the thumb of the hand not holding you in place strokes your cheek tenderly.
He’s so gentle, it makes you sick to your stomach. This isn’t what you wanted, but it’s what he’s willing to give you. You’ll take it all the same; you’ll take all that he gives you happily. You won’t ask for more, nor will you ever deny him, something Satoru is intimately aware of.
“You’re being so good,” Satoru croons, and the praise shoots right between your legs. You can’t help the whine that leaves you involuntarily, which has him coo in response. Condescendingly, probably; not that you care because you had heard the slight hitch of his breath when you took him in deeper. He’s just as affected as you are. “Is this what you needed, baby?”
You hum an agreement around him, and he groans beautifully. His head is thrown back in pleasure, his neck on full display for you to admire. You want to mark that smooth column of skin, want him to match Suguru in a way he hasn’t in a decade, even if you won’t be there to see the look on his face. Maybe you should be, though. Perhaps you’ll finally accept the open invitation. What’s a little more hurt in the long run? You can take it. You want to take it before it’s too late, and Suguru goes through with his plan and—
Satoru’s grip on your hair tightens viciously as he withdraws from your mouth, tilting your head up so you’re eye to eye.
“Thinking about him, are you?” He asks lightly, but you know it’s anything but.
“Sorry, can’t help it,” you reply hoarsely, eyes watering.
You really are sorry. It’s unfair of you to be stuck on Suguru when Satoru is the one before you, when Satoru is the one who always comes back to you, but this is just what he does to you. He swallows you whole, only to spit you out in pieces once he’s done with you. Why do you allow it? Well, everyone has their weaknesses, and Suguru will always be yours.
“I know,” Satoru sighs softly. He leans down and kisses you so softly, you melt into him. When he pulls away, his eyes are dark as his thumb swipes across your bottom lip. “You need more, don’t you?”
“Yes. Please. I don’t want to think, Satoru,” you beg, uncaring how pathetic you must appear to him. He hasn’t seen you at your worst—only Shoko has had that privilege—but close enough that you don’t feel the need to hide anymore.
“You know I’ve always got you.” You do know that, which is why you’re in this position. You know Satoru well enough to realize that he'll come to you if you do something out of the ordinary. You could have run, delayed this moment further, but part of you must have longed for this to happen. For Satoru to do what he does best: take control.
“All you have to do is be good and do as I say.”
You can do that. You want to do that.
He smiles. “I know, baby.”
Your face heats up. You didn’t mean to say that out loud.
Oh well, you think as Satoru brings his cock back to your lips. It’s still wet with your saliva, and there are beads of pre-cum leaking from his tip. You lick it right up. The taste of him down here pleasantly differs from his cloying mouth. It’s still a little sweet, but there’s a bite of pure musk to it that will only get more powerful the more you get.
He lets you set the pace for a few minutes, teasing him with kitten licks and butterfly kisses before wrapping your lips around his tip again and taking him into your mouth. You’re content to let your mind wander as you focus on pleasing him. Every so often, you’ll look up and find him staring at you with a strange intensity each time, as though he is committing you in this moment to memory.
It should be daunting to be under the Six Eye’s gaze, but it is only tantalizing to you. Satoru is the unknowing supplier of your only remaining addiction: his singular attention. Not just anyone can claim that, and even fewer can claim a place within his heart. You’ve traded away all the drugs that’ll do you harm for one that isn’t destructive, only obsessive, in return. A fair trade, all things considered. Satoru gives you an endless supply of adoration, and you revel in it, in him, in his equally damning attachment.
This is one fixation that you’ll never have to give up.
Your tongue swipes from underneath as your teeth scrape softly above, and Satoru gasps. Unwittingly, his hand clenches and pulls you further onto his length. You gag at the quick motion, but that doesn’t stop Satoru from shoving more of his cock into your mouth. He’s grown tired of your exploratory pace, but that’s fine because you were of the same mind.
It’s nice to be used by Satoru. You don’t have to focus on anything but him. All thoughts of Suguru disappear as you follow his every demand. Open wider, he says, so you do, relaxing your throat and allowing him deeper. Keep your eyes on mine, he says, and you do, maintaining eye contact even as his thrusts become rougher. Keep your thighs apart, he says, and you do, aching for any kind of friction despite knowing that any attempt to touch yourself will have consequences.
Satoru fucks into your mouth relentlessly, taking his pleasure while you’re helpless to do anything but moan, suck, and take it. He’s aggressive with you, just like you wanted. Your jaw aches, but there’s no stopping Satoru once he gets like this. That’s just fine with you; he needs to blow off steam, and you need to be useful. It’s a win-win situation, even if you feel like you’re getting more out of this than Satoru. Next time, you’ll make a day out of it and let him use you properly.
Drool escapes the corners of your lips as he continues to thrust roughly. Your jaw aches, but it’s the nice kind, a sort of badge of honor for how good you’ve been for him.
Nothing matters but Satoru, even as tears stream down your face and air becomes scarce, the more erratic his strokes become. You can barely make him out through your blurred vision, but you’re certain there’s never been a better sight. He is incandescent as he chases his orgasm mindlessly.
Pulling from your mouth just enough to leave the tip in your mouth, he cums with an unbashed moan. It coats the back of your throat, and you swallow it down as best you can. As much as he likes seeing you coated in his cum, he left his cock in your mouth for a reason.
He waits until you’ve got it all, until he withdraws from your mouth. Cupping your cheek, he croons, “You were so good. You took me so well.” He leans down and kisses you, his tongue licking up the remnants of his seed, and you keen into his mouth. He separates from you to say, “Come on up, baby.”
You reach up, and he takes you into his lap, cradling you like something precious as he extends his Infinity to include you. Nothing but Satoru can reach you now, and it’s like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders. You nuzzle into his chest with your arms wrapped around his neck, as he whispers sweet things into the crown of your head and rubs soothing motions into your skin.
It is pure and utter bliss, being faced with the full brunt of Satoru’s care. The only thing better would be if Shoko were here, but she never joins the two of you anymore. She only slips in when Satoru is finished and hands you off to her. You think it would be nice to be sandwiched between them for a night before you spill your guts to them. Almost immediately, a wave of exhaustion hits you in apprehension of such a conversation.
“I’m tired,” you mumble in his skin, eyes dropping as sleep threatens to take you.
“Let me dress you,” he whispers, and a frown forms on your face at the thought of extricating yourself from him. He chuckles. “It won’t take long. I promise.”
“Okay,” you acquiesce. “Be quick.”
He untangles you from himself, and you watch as he finds the pajamas you brought to wear for the night, a comically oversized shirt, and a pair of soft cotton shorts. Things you’ve stolen from your lovers. You grumble as he pulls you off the bed to dress you, clinging to him the moment he’s finished.
“Done! Now we can go,” Satoru declares.
“Go?” You ask warily.
“To Shoko, of course!” He chirps.
You tug a strand of his hair. “What if she’s still sleeping?”
He looks down at you fondly. “She’s not, and even if she were, she’d wake up for you.”
You don’t protest because it would be really nice to see Shoko. You want them both with you, and Satoru must know that. He’s the best, and you love him so much. Words can’t describe how grateful you are, so you merely kiss him softly.
“Okay, let’s go then.”
As he gathers your belongings, you text Minoru-san about your recent change of plans, so she doesn’t needlessly worry when she inevitably knocks on the door of your empty hotel room in the morning. She’ll understand the reason for your absence immediately. This is not the first time Satoru has been too impatient to wait for you to come back to Tokyo, nor will it be the last. It is, however, the first time he has stolen you without warning. He would’ve taken you to Shoko no matter what you said, and it’s for the best that he did and that you agreed.
Satoru has all your things on one arm while the other wraps around your shoulders and teleports.
As you begin to regain your bearings, you take a step away too quickly and collapse into Satoru’s awaiting arms. You’re not clumsy when it comes to his teleportation, not anymore, so maybe Suguru truly has thrown you completely off track. What terrible timing; the end of summer is always rush season.
When you glance up, successfully this time, your eyes meet Shoko’s tired ones. The corner of her mouth lifts in an almost smile. Like always, she looks weary, but she’s still so beautiful. Her beauty is unlike Satoru’s, who will always be a touch too perfect. No, Shoko’s appeal lies in her humanity. Something is charming about her smudged mascara, her untidy hair after a night of drinking, and how she wears her exhaustion like a second skin.
“Come here,” she beckons, and you collapse into her on the bed.
Shoko smells like whiskey and sweat, no lingering antiseptic remains, just the pure scent of her.
“I’ve got you,” she whispers into the shell of your ear, her arms enclosing you from behind. Satoru joins you on the other side, holding you just as tight, and sighs, “We both do.”
“Thank you,” you murmur happily.
They hum in acknowledgement, snuggling closer to you. It’s reminiscent of your school days, of the days when you finally reconciled with Satoru after… after. You don’t want to think about that right now, not when the two of them are finally in bed with you.
You fall asleep between them, Satoru’s heartbeat against your ear and Shoko’s pressed against your back, certain that in the morning, they’ll still be there.
I BET ON LOSING DOGS | GETO SUGURU X READER & SASHISU X READER ♥︎
♡ CHAPTER ONE: i always want you when I'm finally fine
♡ SYNOPSIS: It's been a decade or so since you've last seen Suguru, when out of the blue, and when your other partners are away, he decides to visit you.
♡ A.N: This is, indeed, a repost so if it looks familiar, that's why! I decided I'd rather have a xreader-focused sideblog <3
AO3 ♡ M.LIST/TAGLIST ♡ NEXT
“I’m home,” you announce to an empty apartment as you slip off your boots and put on your slippers.
You flick the lights on, highlighting white walls and sparse furniture, and make your way towards the kitchen, to where your bar cart is. It is the only fully furnished thing you own, diligent to keep everything you could possibly want or need in stock. You don’t smoke anymore, not since the pact you swore with Shoko four years ago, but you’ve simply replaced one vice for another. At least you don’t pop pills or do lines anymore. Your suppliers went their different ways, one going rogue and murdering an entire village of non-sorcerers and the other throwing himself in missions and avoiding you like the plague after a bout of shared teenage angst that only two lovesick fools could share.
Quitting cold turkey had been an interesting experience, but Shoko had been there for you. She had seen you at your worst and had nursed you back to health a few times after some extremely idiotic decisions. She hadn’t judged you, even though you wished she had. She was so gentle with you in the aftermath of each attempt, forgiving you every time, and you hadn’t deserved it, so you swore to yourself that you’d stop being so foolish and had sworn to her that you’d do your best to take as long as you possibly could before joining the endless parade of corpses that eventually ended up in her morgue.
“Idiot,” Shoko had said, unbearably fond, before she whispered a quiet thank you into the crown of your head and laid a kiss there. You would break her heart one day, you’re sure of it. However, it’d only be because of a curse or curse-user and not by your own hand.
The next week after that, Satoru had slid up right next to you, wrapped his arm around your shoulders, and complained about his latest mission like nothing had changed since your school days and not like he hadn’t ignored you for an entire year.
To say that it had been a disastrous confrontation would be an understatement; an entire section of the mountains that hid the school had been blown to pieces, decimated by your bottled-up emotions and Satoru’s deflection. It took another year before the two of you could stand to be near each other and civil, and then one more until your friendship had repaired to a status similar enough to the one you both shared during your school years. It was different, of course, because there was a missing piece in your dynamic, a black hole that could never be filled, but that was fine.
You’re used to it now, a whole ten years after the fact.
How pathetic.
Going through your inventory, you deliberate on your choice for the night. A quiet night in dictates a few glasses of wine, but you’re feeling nostalgic tonight. You don’t go for something achingly sweet like something Satoru drank in his youth, or a whiskey cocktail like Shoko has stayed true to since her teen years, but rather you choose warmed kimoto sake. An interesting choice considering the warmth you’ve had to deal with during this month.
As you begin to heat it up, you think about your friends.
Shoko and Satoru are off in Kyoto for the Goodwill Event, and while you were invited to join them, it didn't feel right. You weren’t a part of the faculty and though you helped some of Satoru’s students a few times, it wasn’t enough to warrant a reason to come. Still, you would have liked to see the four of them in action, specifically Yuuta-kun. Kento hadn’t gone either, but then, he wouldn’t, seeing as he preferred to keep his personal and professional life as separate as possible. He’s stubborn, but you admire that about him. You’ll never admit it, but he is more brave than you’ll ever be, leaving so easily, even if he had returned in the end.
Sometimes, you wish you had turned your back on this society too. Only, you would have stayed gone.
Taking a sip from your now perfectly heated sake, you close your eyes and think of better times. Before you know it, the bottle is finished, and you decide it may be best to shower before forgetting to and getting into bed dirty. It was an entirely too humid day, and you’re still slick with sweat. You turn the lights and burner off. An alarm rings, but you swipe it away. Thirty minutes later, you’re slightly buzzed but clean, dressed in only an oversized band-tee that you’re certain you stole from one of your friends and a pair of panties. It’s a nice feeling, and you’ve had so few of those as of late since the approach of a certain ten year anniversary.
Maybe you should watch one of Tsumiki’s favorite dramas that you used to always indulge her in. No one else would catch her up on them, and it’s been a while since you visited her anyway. Now, you would have something to share with her that wasn’t anything curse related. If you were her, you’d hate hearing only of tragedy and misery. Surely, the main couple finally got their act together and became official.
Some more sake sounds like a better idea though. However, as you move further into your apartment, you realize there is a second presence with you, no longer hidden. You flick the lights on, and there on your couch is a splash of color in your otherwise dreary residence.
“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”
Suguru is just about the same as he was all those years ago. Only now, he’s grown into his looks. He’s no longer so awkward in his body, apparent in the way he sprawls so confidently in his monk attire as he stares up at you with that familiar fox-like smile. His hair is so much longer now, free from the bun he used to prefer. His gauges have grown in size. He’s wearing Satoru’s house slippers. It’s odd to reconcile the image you have of him in your mind with the man he now is. Your only thought as you take in all of him is that he’s grown up without you and has become a stranger when once he used to be your everything.
You blink, unable or perhaps unwilling to believe what you’re seeing, yet the vision of the man in front of you doesn’t change. It seems unlikely that after all this time, he would choose to visit you like this, so maybe this is just another dream. It’s been a while since the last one. Walking past him to light the burner once more, you wonder if you’ve had too much to drink even as you pour for a second cup.
As you make your way back to your living room, he’s still there, looking at you with that stupid smile still plastered on his face. You place your cup down first before handing him his own, his hands easily enveloping your own as you do.
He feels warm.
Real.
Oh.
Suguru is really here.
“Of course, I’m here. Did you believe otherwise?”
Ah, you spoke aloud. You may be more than slightly buzzed if you’re this bad already. You sit beside him, your thigh touching his own, and look him straight in the eye as you say, “I never know what to believe when it comes to you.”
His expression falters, and for a moment, he’s the boy you loved, before it’s paved over by that false congeniality you hate. He would have made it big as an actor if he hadn’t gone down the path of murderous cult leader, or maybe a politician. Those are certainly more likely to betray you than an actor would. Then again, that profession isn’t too far from a cult leader in all actuality.
He takes a sip from his cup, surprise and delight flitting over his features the moment it reaches his tongue. It feels good to break his facade because he’s already breaking all the walls you’ve built around your heart by simply being beside you like this; some reciprocity would be nice. You wonder how long it’s been since he’s had this particular drink and brand. It was his favorite once upon time, and you figured that if he threw just about everything else out from his previous life, he must have done the same to this too. It’s nice to know you still know the core of him even if you don’t know the exact happenings of his life.
“How have you been? You and Satoru have made up now, yes?”
Of course, he would bring that up. It doesn’t surprise you that he does, though. For a while, your fight with Satoru had been all anyone could talk about. A destructive fight between the last two loyal Special Grades shortly after the third went rogue? It was a scandal that didn’t abate until you and Satoru finally made up, until you’d shown up with him draped all over you, looking very obviously freshly-fucked, at a council meeting.
However, Suguru very well knows that you and Satoru had long made up. You may be foolish but you’re not an idiot. Not anymore. It’s not hard to determine where your not-quite boyfriend goes once a month like clockwork and why he comes back to you tasting of smoke and misery. Once, very early on, he had asked if you wanted to join him, and you had simply given him a scathing look before leaving his apartment to go to Shoko’s. He never asked again, but you knew that the offer was always open.
Confronting you like this, in your apartment and with no one near, Suguru leaves you no choice but to face him. Maybe he got tired of waiting for you to come to him. For once, you're not the desperate one. It’s a nice change of pace. Yet, there's always the possibility that he’s here to kill you.
If you’re going to die like this, so be it, but you’d like another drink before you go. A civil conversation would be nice too. You find that you’ve missed him dearly, ready to fall back into old habits with an old friend. Shoko will be disappointed in you for not putting up a fight, but if you hadn’t had the strength to do it while you helped him with the twins, you definitely couldn’t do it now. Satoru will understand though. You only hope he’s kind; you’ve had enough of his cruelty.
“Yes. We’re doing well now. As for myself, I’m the same as always. I don’t get up to much these days.” You pause to take a sip to wet your dry mouth. “Oh, I’m almost done with my teaching certificate, but don’t tell Satoru. He’ll be a nuisance if he finds out through you. I plan on joining him at Jujutsu Tech next year.”
Satoru hadn’t been wrong when he said you’d enjoy it. It’s fulfilling in a way that exorcising curses isn’t, and though you’ve always supported him in his endeavor to allow the children of your society to hold onto their youth for as long as possible, it’s different when you’re the one cultivating said youth.
“Oho, is that so? I’m happy for you,” Suguru says, and the thing is, he really does sound genuine. “Of the two of you, I always thought you’d be the one to teach there. You were always so diligent with our kouhai, Haibara-kun specifically.”
Hearing him speak so blatantly about Yuu-kun sends a stab straight through your heart. He had been a good boy, an average sorcerer at the time, but there had been potential for him to grow into a First Grade had he lived. You remember sitting beside his corpse, debating whether you should kill the window who miscalculated the curse’s grade and the elder who let it accumulate power for years before it became a so-called problem and reported it.
It had been Suguru who had convinced you otherwise. Hypocritical of him, considering he went on a murder spree not too long after for the sake of two little girls and his own twisted philosophy.
You had changed after that, even more after the short time you helped Suguru settle with Nanako-chan and Mimiko-chan before essentially being turned away from his new home and the bender you and Satoru went on. After that, you fell into a depressive episode so severe that it almost killed you. Only Shoko knows the extent of how close you were to giving up completely, and it will stay like that. During that time, Satoru had stayed far away from you, Suguru had been busy with handling his newly seized cult and raising the twins, Kento had pulled away from everyone, and Yuu-kun was dead.
You had lost your spark, unwilling to become attached to anyone else who could break your heart so thoroughly. Teaching, which had always been your secret passion, had lost all its luster after everything that took place during that nebulous time period, but children have a way of sneaking into your heart, regardless of any desire to avoid them. It had been Megumi first, the little boy who shadowed Satoru during a few of his easier missions, and later, Tsumiki, his non-sorcerer step-sister who admired your grace and poise when dealing with someone as troublesome as Satoru. Then, it had been sweet Yuuta-kun, who you had personally vouched for after Satoru brought you to meet him for the first time. Now, it was the rest of his classmates who have managed to worm their way right alongside the others.
You can’t say you’re fully healed from the heartache of your teenage years, yet you’d like to believe you can move past it enough to live the way you want and have been too cowardly to allow.
“It simply wasn’t in my cards, not until recently. It’s been nice to help the first years with Satoru, and I want a more active role in their education. Enough about me, though. How have you and the girls been?”
He’s been watching you with rapt eyes, and you wonder what it is he sees, what you’re giving away to him. He was always the best at reading you, but now that particular gift belongs to Shoko, who knows every dirty little secret that your lovers don’t… lover and ex-lover.
“The girls still ask about you, their beloved onee-sama, but they’re well without you. Speaking of which, I never managed to break them from the habit of calling me Getou-sama. They’re stubborn like that, but I like that shared facet of their personalities. Just the other day, they convinced me to abandon a meeting to go to the opening of a highly anticipated bakery. Perhaps I’ve spoiled them too much,” Suguru muses, taking a sip, and you, unconsciously, mirror the movement. He looks back up into your eyes, tilting his head as he asks, “As for myself, do you really want to know?”
Do you really want to know?
Do you really wish to hear of the people he slaughtered to further his inane goal? To hear about his new family, the cult he’s grown for himself? To hear just how far his insanity has spread?
Not particularly.
You shake your head, and instead, you ask, “Is this how it goes with Satoru each time he goes to you? Talking about nothing but the children before falling into each other?”
Suguru barks a laugh, like you’ve told a particularly funny joke, and you jolt at the sound of it. He sounds the same, and it’s breaking your heart. He sets his cup on the table, his hand warm on your cheek as he cradles your face tenderly. If you close your eyes, you can almost pretend you’re two teens falling in love for the first time. Your eyes stay open, mapping the constellation of dying stars found in his own.
“Always straight to the point with you, huh? I always liked that about you, you know?”
You nod. He had told you as such one time, and you remember everything from back then in startling crystal clear vision. His other hand takes your cup and places it beside his own. It’s a couple’s set, once belonging to your parents. No one else has used it alongside you because your friends would never drink sake if given the choice, none but Suguru.
“And you’ve always danced around it. Why are you here, Suguru?”
He closes his eyes then, perhaps relishing the sound of his name falling from your lips. Your voice almost broke when saying it, unused to saying it when once it was all that could escape you.
“I’ve missed you. Isn’t that enough of a reason?” He leans his forehead against your own, his breath intermingling with your own. Every one of your senses are filled with him. It’s a heady combination, the proximity, the intimacy, the familiar musk of decay with an added hint of incense, and it makes you dizzy with desire.
“You’ve had all this time to visit me. Why now?” You couldn’t sound more pathetic if you tried, but Suguru was the one to break ten years of contact. Surely, that must make him worse than you.
You know where this is heading, and it’s a bad idea, but you’ll just blame it all on Suguru. He’s the one who came to you, not the other way around. It’d be rude to turn him away, although you’d be well within your right to do so after what he did last time, but you can’t. He is your biggest weak spot, besides Shoko, and everyone knows it, Suguru most of all.
As if knowing he was losing you, he smiles at you, eyes open, with all of his teeth showing. It’s a distracting sight.
He finally answers, “I was feeling nostalgic.” He must deem that enough of an answer because he breaches the small gap between you and kisses you. You melt into him, allowing him to push you down on the couch as his thighs box you in beneath him. The secondhand taste of him you get from Satoru doesn’t compare to the real thing, and neither do your dreams or memories.
“You must be too, if you’re wearing this old thing,” he says as he takes your shirt off—and oh, it’s one that used to belong to him. He had left everything behind when he defected, and during your worst nights, you wanted something of his, so you snuck into his old dorm room and stole a few items of his clothing. His scent hadn’t lingered for long, but you kept everything you stole anyway.
Pushing past the twinge of pain those times illicit, you begin to undress him too. It’s not enough to simply be this close to him. You need to be skin to skin, mouth to mouth, body to body, until you’re both so tangled up in one another that you become one.
Sometime during stripping him to his underwear and kissing him senseless, he had picked you up because the next thing you know, he’s thrown you on your bed. You imbibed too much, but by now, you’re certain he isn’t going to kill you tonight.
Not much, you think deliriously when Suguru pulls your panties down, his nose digging into your clit as he licks a stripe up your folds, but he’ll give me plenty of little deaths. Satoru would have liked that joke since he’s the one who told you about that term originally, too bad he’s not here to appreciate it. You’ll just have to save it for later.
You don’t attempt to keep quiet, couldn’t even if you tried, because you know Suguru likes his partners noisy and filthy. He’s as talented with his tongue as he was when you last saw him, more even, and you don’t want to think about why that is. Like this, you can stay in your favorite fantasy, where he stayed yours and Satoru’s and Shoko’s.
Pleasure swells in your belly, slick pooling between your thighs and right into Suguru’s eager mouth. He’s only playing with you, staying away from your clit as he laps up your arousal. Teases you until you’re molten beneath him. His tongue slides inside of you, and your back arches into his mouth.
“You taste the way I remember,” he remarks, his breath tickling your clit. You thread your fingers into his hair, forcing him to look into your eyes. His face shines with your slick in the low light, and his eyes are dark as he stares back at you, the black of his pupils eclipsing his pretty irises.
“Suguru, please. I need more.” A moan slips from you unbidden when he slips two thick fingers inside of your aching hole. He curls them upwards, massaging that soft spot that makes the coil in your belly snap and makes you tremble as your orgasm crashes over you. You’re not there yet, but you will be soon with the way Suguru decides to stop toying with you.
His tongue swirls around your clit before he takes it into his mouth and sucks.
Suguru’s already prepared for the way your hips buck. His grip is bruising as he forces your thrashing body further down onto your bedding, He hasn’t let up with his fingers, and he seems content to keep your clit warm and wet in his mouth.
It’s too much at once, especially since it’s Suguru bringing you to the edge like this. He’s nothing like your other lovers, and you’ve missed this. You’ve missed him. He adds a third finger, and the stretch stings pleasantly. He continues his assault on your clit, alternating between sucking it and using his tongue to play with it.
Tears prick your eyes, and you fist his hair tightly in your palms, pushing his face deeper into your cunt. You’re so close, yet you want him to stop because working you from the inside and out is enough to cause your mind to want to stop working.
“Suguru, Suguru, Suguru,” you whine, a litany solely for him on your tongue. He hums happily against you, and it’s enough to cause your body to still for a moment. “Suguru, I’m gonna—gonna cum,” you begin to warn him before you shudder all over, thighs trembling, vision narrowing, and cunt spasming around Suguru’s fingers.
He continues to fuck you with his fingers, but his mouth finally leaves your poor, abused clit as he maneuvers himself between your thighs and move your legs to wrap around his midsection. Only now are you aware of the raging hard-on he’s sporting. He leans down to kiss your lips, sharing the taste of your slick with you and breathing your name and sweet nothings into your skin once he’s had his fill of your needy kisses and left enough marks that there won't be a mistake of just exactly who left them there.
Reclining back up, he looks down at your debauched body. His mouth quirks up into a mean grin that makes your cunt flutter around his fingers. “There’s nothing but thoughts of me in that silly little brain of yours, hm?”
“Uh huh. Just Suguru.” He’s the only thing that matters, all you’ve longed for since he kicked you to the curb. It’s actually pathetic how much he still affects you, how much you continue to let him affect you like this. You’ll get over him one day, but one day isn’t tonight. You aren’t like Satoru, willing to debase yourself on a monthly basis. There’s only so much self-harm you can engage in before spiraling nowadays.
If you’re being honest, it’d probably kill you to leave Suguru or be left behind by him so often. Satoru is regarded as the Strongest for a reason while you, decidedly, aren’t.
“So good. That’s how it should always be,” he croons, and you can’t help but preen at the compliment. You deserve a reward for being so good. You tell Suguru as such and he laughs, agreeing, and asks what it is you want.
“Inside,” you answer immediately. “I want you inside me.” You feel like that statement is missing something, so you tack on a please at the end of the sentence.
“Anything for you,” he murmurs, like a liar. You let him get away with it, just like you do with everything else.
He strokes himself a few times, smearing your slick along his length, and slaps the tip of it against your sensitive clit before lazily rutting against your folds. He’s thicker than you remember, thicker than Satoru and most of Shoko’s slim fingers combined. You will strain to take him in, but what’s pleasure without a little pain.
When he finally enters you, your name falls from his lips weakly, mirroring the way you gasp his own as the head of his cock slips in. Your entire body goes taut at the intrusion, your nails digging into the hard planes of his back as he sinks deeper inside you, inch by inch. This time, you don’t stop the tears from falling from your eyes, your whining and his ragged breaths filling the room.
“You’re taking me so well,” Suguru sighs when he's halfway inside of you. “But it hurts, doesn’t it?” You nod weepily. “It’s a good thing I know you can take it.”
Without warning, he shoves the rest in with a single thrust. It burns; you’re stuffed to the brim with him, spine stiff with unexpected pain as your cunt pulses around him. Your chest heaves with each irregular inhale you take. He’s kind enough to give you a few moments to collect yourself before he begins to rock into you.
Somehow, he doesn’t sound winded, even as his thrusts become deeper and harder and your walls cling tighter around him, as he says, “It takes me back seeing you like this. Do you remember how we used to be? Before you got your act together with Shoko and I got mine with Satoru? We used to fuck, just like this, but you tried to keep quiet while I encouraged you to be loud so they could hear.”
Of course, you remember. It’s all you ever do. “You used to—fuck me in Satoru’s room and leave—behind the evidence or—or shamelessly finger me during our study sessions with— with Sho—ko.”
The headboard bangs against the wall rhythmically in time with the way Suguru slams his way inside you with each thrust of his hips, the bed creaking on beat.
“It was good while it lasted. Wasn’t it?” His voice breaks.
You unclench your eyes to look up at him with cloudy eyes. His own have the slightest sheen to them, so you cradle the back of his neck, fingers finding purchase in the long silky strands you used to braid every night as you bring his face near yours.
Bodies connected, breathing the same air, sharing the same space, reminiscing the same memories, this is as close as you’re ever going to get with him. It’s not enough. He’s going to leave again, and it’ll kill you.
All these little deaths you bring me, you wish to say, and still, I crave you. An addict through and through.
Instead, you tell him through tears, “It was the best.”
And it was—but you need to stop living in the past.
He makes it impossible to do that, though, and really, you’d have it no other way. You’re unsure what you’d do if he became a definitive thing to move past, rather than just pretending to. Death comes for everyone, but you hope it comes for you before it does for Suguru. Same for Satoru and Shoko.
In an ideal world, the four of you would live until you were all grey and wrinkly, but it’s not. You all will never again see eye to eye and live happily together, even the thing you have going on with Satoru and Shoko is shaky. Everything fell apart when Suguru fell apart, but the cracks in the relationship had started forming during the direct aftermath of the Star Plasma Vessel mission.
You kiss him before you say something stupid, something you’ll regret, something he’ll hold over you like he did the last time you saw him. It starts gentle, but he deepens it, threatening to swallow you whole like you’re just another curse for him to consume. To be with him forever sounds nice; you hope he curses you, so you’re with him always.
He lifts your legs to his shoulders, bending you in half, and his strokes lessen but are no less bruising. He reaches deeper inside you in this position, making a home for himself. If you can’t live within him, he can live within you, at least for this short amount of time.
Warmth curls in your belly when he starts kissing, sucking, and biting his way down your jaw to your neck to your decolletage to your chest, proof that he was really here. It’s not enough. You want something more permanent.
When your body goes taut again, Suguru coos mockingly, “There we go. You’re almost there. Come for me, You can do that for me, can’t you, sweetheart?”
It's the endearment that does you in, completely throwing you back to another time.
Your vision goes spotty, clenching around him tighter than before and whimpering SuguruSuguruSuguru as he fills your every sense. You continue to clamp down on him even as his pace falters and he cries your name in your ear.
Body going slack, your legs fall back to wrap weakly around his waist as he slides home one last time before he cums inside you. It’s warm and wet, filling your insides up. He slumps against you, resting his head on your shoulder as you both catch your breath.
When he pulls out, a gush of cum and slick oozes out of you and onto your sheets. You’ll clean it in the morning. He pulls you into his arms, laying you on his chest; your heartbeats are one.
After a beat of silence, you tell him, “I—I missed you too. So much, Suguru.”
He presses his lips against your temple as he hums “I know.”
Your eyelids grow heavy as sleep threatens to consume you, but you keep them open, gazing up at the man you still love despite everything he’s done. He looks so handsome like this, in your bed and staring at you with adoration in his eyes. The only thing that could make this better is if Satoru were here. You would have joined them in their trysts if you knew it would have given you soft moments like this.
Softly, hesitantly, you make a single request. “Please stay,”
“Of course,” Suguru agrees.
You rest your head on his chest, fingers trailing over his x-marked scar. They’re so faint now, but you remember a time when they were fresh and gushing red with blood. His heart beats steadily in tune with yours, a familiar melody to lull you to sleep.
You’d like one untainted memory of him, but there’s something you’ve been thinking about since the moment you saw him. It’s been bothering you this whole time, and you need to know. You recognize the look of someone who knew death was in their future. Except, he seemed to accept that potential outcome wholeheartedly while you had only begrudgingly accepted it. This is where you differ. He’s willing to die to achieve his goals, but you wish to live to see yours though.
“You’re planning something stupid, aren’t you?”
He chuckles. “You know me so well.”
It may as well be a confession. You don’t want to say goodbye to him. Not ever, but you don’t ever get what you want.
Everything becomes hazy.
“Don’t cry. Everything will work out one way or another,” Suguru consoles you, and since he’s found his way home inside your ribcage, the knife slips easily into your heart. He kisses your lips softly, swallowing your quiet cries until they’ve all run out.
“S—Suguru,” you whisper, your voice suddenly failing you as it breaks on the name you’ve avoided saying for years. You clear your throat, making another request. “Kill me if you must, but leave those two out of it. Especially Shoko. She’s innocent.”
He looks so sad once you’ve said your peace. It’d be nice if you could read minds. Maybe if you could, you would have noticed he was lying about the deteriorating state of his mind in your third year. Maybe if you cracked his skull open and placed his brain beneath a microscope, all his secrets and thoughts would spill out. It’s a silly thought. You’re not a scientist or doctor like Shoko, after all.
“Why would I kill you? Or Shoko for that matter.” You notice how he deliberately leaves out Satoru. He tucks a lock of hair behind your ear. “I’m doing this for you, all of you. You deserve to live in a curse-free world where you don’t need to be strong. Wouldn’t it be nice to settle down without the fear that settles in your gut every time you think about starting a family?”
So cruel to mention your best kept secret, a future you will never have—can never allow yourself to have. So gentle it makes you want to curl up and die. Maybe you could take him with you, stop him before he attempts to pull off whatever plan he has brewing. Satoru always says that sorcerers die alone in the end, but you wouldn’t be alone. Not when Suguru is right here, and all you’d have to do is drain him dry of his cursed energy and then life vitality. You would be kind, like how you hoped he would be in return. It would be romantic, in a way, to die side by side, arm in arm, body to body, together forever.
“It would,” you admit, “but it’s impossible, and you know it.”
He merely hums in response.
A stalemate, but he doesn’t leave you.
You’ll take it. You’ll take anything he gives you. Even if it’s heartbreak.
Sleep takes you in its cold embrace after a few minutes of silence, but before it does, you swear you hear Suguru say, “I was foolish to turn you away, but it was for the best. You’d have died a slow death with me.”
Not like it would have made a difference, you’ve been dying a slow death since the moment Yaga-sensei scouted you.
Such is the life of a sorcerer.
-
He’s gone by morning; you’d almost believe it was a dream.
There'd be no trace that he was even with you if it weren’t for the marks he left behind and the mess he made between your thighs.
You’re undoubtedly a fool for how easily you let him back in, but Suguru has always had a particular knack for making you pliant to his every whim. He managed to knock down every wall you’ve built up in the past decade in a single encounter.
Shoko is going to be so disappointed.
You wonder if Satoru feels this used after their hookups. You hope he’s always the one to leave first, so he doesn’t ever feel like this. It’s a terrible feeling that you wouldn’t wish on anybody, especially not on Satoru. He deserves good things even if he chases after what many consider to be the most twisted man in recent jujutsu history.
Entering your living room, you find one of the sake cups shattered on the ground. Another broken thing he’s left in his wake.
A/N: Holy shit, Van is posting something?!?!? Yeah. Anyway this isnt proofread so sorry about that. enjoy! also this is my first fic of the year WOO!
Warnings: SMUT MDNI, unprotected piv, handjob, outside alley sex, reader gets harassed by creeps, barfight, logan loves fighting and being a shithead, mentioned reader being a waitress and wearing jeans, the suit stays ON during sex, i forgot how to do these warnings ngl
He stopped just for a drink,
or two,
or three.
It had been a long day, so hell, why not? He deserves it.
The bar in question was your typical hole-in-wall bar. Located just outside the city, had a nice rustic country vibe to it. Rock music played low on the jukebox by the door. The patrons inside looked rough, men who would kill you if you so much looked at them wrong. His kind of people.
He sat at the bar, and the bartender- a rough looking guy, bald, wearing a bikers cut stood behind the bar, drying a glass as Logan went to sit at a stool. He expected the stares, considering he was still wearing the suit- Didn't bring a change of clothes with him and really didn't much care what people thought anyway. The yellow spandex invites challenge, and he's always up for a good fight.
"You one of them superheros? Uh…Wolverine right?"
"Yeah bub, what of it?"
"My kid loves you guys." The bartender smiles, his entire demeanor changing, he sets the glass down. "Think you could sign an autograph? It'd make his whole year."
Logan looks at him in surprise, and then grins. That's new. Normally he gets flack, being a mutant and all. Unlike the Avengers, the X-men don't receive much recognition for helping out and putting their lives in danger. Not that he was in any risk of losing his life.
"Sure. Give me a drink and I'll sign anything."
"Alright! Pick your poison."
"Whiskey, neat. Beam preferable."
The glass clinked against the smooth bar top. He pulls out a bottle of Jim Beam and pours a generous amount, and sliding it across the counter when Logan catches it, and downs it with ease.
"Keep it coming," He says, sliding the glass back to the bartender. He chuckles and pours him another glass.
"Here you go. I got my boys ball cap out in the truck, he ain't gonna believe it when he sees you signed it." The bartender slides another glass over, and leaving the bottle of Beam on the counter so he could refill as he wants.
"Appreciate it." Logan gives him a nod before nursing the glass more slowly this time. It has an oak-like flavor, with a hint of cinnamon that burned on his tongue. He had a shitty day, but the night seems to be turning out pretty good.
Really, all he need to make it perfect, is a good woman on his lap- and a good cigar too.
He heard some doors open and glanced over, and saw something very easy on the eyes coming out from the kitchen. Just what he ordered.
You were holding two trays filled with glasses and baskets of greasy food and carrying it to a group of men huddled in a corner booth. He caught your eye and he could hear your heart skip a beat, which only made him smirk and fed into his ego.
Logan watched you cross the room, watching how your hips rocked and eyeing your ass, pronounced by the snug high-waisted jeans you were sporting. He caught a whiff of your scent, being hidden by the alcohol and food cooking in the kitchen- you smelled heavenly.
You reached the table of men, setting one tray down and handing food out to the men, who seemed to be jeering at you.
"Thanks baby girl, got anything else for me?" One smirked at you, you raised a brow.
"You just ordered fries, and a rum and coke, correct?" You asked as you continued setting drinks down around the table. Clearly you understand the guy was trying to be an annoying flirt, but you played dumb and hoped he'll leave it alone.
"Yeah, but how about a kiss and your number too?"
You scoffed. "Not on the menu." You retort as you finished handing out the food. "Enjoy your meal."
As you turned to go back, one of them reached over and smacked your ass. You gasped, turning around to smack whoever was closest. It wasn't the one who did it, but they all deserved it anyway. The contact of your hand against the jerks face was so loud Logan could almost feel it on his own cheek.
That set off a chain reaction. The man you smacked, stood up. He was dressed leather which looked to be some poor attempt to look tough but rather look he came straight out of BDSM club, and his horseshoe moustache didn't help either.
He stood taller than you, and his brothers seemed to join. Hurling insults at you and cheering on Mr.Horseshoe as he grabbed your arm.
Logan was already there at your side to get involved. "I think you better leave her alone, bub."
Mr.Horseshoe took one look at Logan, still having ahold of your arm and laughed. You looked between them with concern, managing to tug your arm out of his grip and stepping back. Logan took the chance to get in between you and the men.
"Or what? Going to fight me in that silly costume of yours?"
"Better than walking around looking like a wannabe porn star from the 60's."
"You cocky son of a bitch."
The other patrons that had been watching, 3 other men who were all sitting by themselves like Logan, quickly made haste to leave.
The instigator tried to throw a punch that Logan dodged with ease. He kicked the horsestache guy in the stomach, knocking him into his friends. Another jumped at him with another punch but he dodged that easily too.
"That all you got? Kinda sad." Logan jeers as he begins to circle the gang.
You disappeared behind the counter.
There was seven men- but that wasn't an issue for the Wolverine. They tried to pile on him, kicking and punching but it was pathetic. Logan easily knocked two of them out. Another one finally landed a punch on him- only to cry out in pain holding his fist. His friend and him looked at each other, then at Logan and decided to run once they realized their gang wasn't going to win, perhaps realized who he was. Logan could hear their bikes revving up and the engines disappearing onto the highway.
Another lunged at him, Logan grabbed him and dragged him to the counter and lifting him onto his belly and sliding him down the bar-top, creating a mess of glass and alcohol on the floor before he slammed his head onto it and shoved him to the other side. He heard you yelp as you jumped up a foot away where the guy dropped onto the floor.
"Sorry, darling, you okay?"
You opened your mouth to respond, but instead screamed for him to watch out. He was suddenly impacted with a stool that broke into pieces. Logan responded with a punch, and make that three knocked out. He sighed, turning back to the bar to grab his drink only realizing that it was now on the floor.
"Hey, you motherfucker!" The last survivor, Mr.Horseshoe-stache yells out. Just as Logan turned around, he grunts as he felt a blade being shoved into his gut. "How'd you like that, huh tough guy?"
He stepped back, pulling the knife back out with him and smirking as he waits for Logan to keel over. Several men that Logan originally knocked down are beginning to get back up, stumbling to their feet behind Mr.Horseshoe, one starting to chuckle as he realizes what his friend did.
"Tryna play dirty, huh bub?" Logan smirked, the wound in his gut already healed, only leaving the stain of blood on the yellow of his suit. Charles will lecture him for getting it ripped up again- apparently his suits are getting expensive to replace. "We can play dirty…"
His fists clenched at his sides, and slowly the sharp claws slid out with a snikt! His smile turned sinister at the looks of the men's faces. The blade clattered to the floor, and they took running out of the bar, Logan shouting after them to come back. Logan could hear doors been slammed shut, and the start of the engine. He glanced at the window, the men had all carpooled into one truck, leaving behind several motorcycles, and took off onto the highway.
His claws retracted, brushing dust off himself. That was fun, but not enough. They pussied out too early- now he was pent up with energy. He hates when he can't finish a fight properly. If you even want to call it that.
"Oh my god, are you okay?!"
You came out of the kitchen, and gasped when you saw the blood. "Hold on, I can call an ambulance- I have to get-"
"No need sweetheart." Logan reassures as he walks up to you. "I'm fine, see?" He tugged the ripped suit enough to show you there was no wound.
"Oh I…" You looked at it, processing that the wound was gone and back up at him. "Good…I'm glad you're okay."
"Yeah. Are you?" His hand reached out to your arm, brushing carefully down it.
You nodded. "I'm fine, thank you, I'm so sorry you got involved in that."
"Ain't a problem. Sorry about the mess."
"Oh…" You shrugged looking around with a shy smile. "There's been worse. Um…" Your eyes found his hand that still lingered on your arm and stared at it. You must have been watching through the kitchen door windows and saw he was a mutant with the claws. He lifted his fist up.
"Wanna see?"
You opened your mouth to answer but he let the claws slide out slowly. Your mouth fell open in amazement, stepping closer to him, your hand reaching up to touch the claws.
"Careful. They're sharp."
"Very." You smiled, meeting his eyes and dropping your hand. He dropped his, his claws retracting. "You're with the X-men..Right? I think I saw you guys on the news. Um…Wolverine!"
He smirked. "At your service."
You seemed a bit starstruck, you stepped closer to him. Your heart was pounding, and he could smell something sickeningly sweet in the air. "Well thank you again, I…I really don't know how to thank you…" You looked him up and down, eyes landing on his lips. "…Mister…Wolverine."
Your back hit the brick of the building as Logan's lips crashed onto yours. You could barely catch your breath with the way he kissed you. Eager and rough, his tongue licked into your mouth, teeth nipping at your lips.
His hands run over your body, one moving down to cup your ass, the other sliding up your shirt to cup your breast. His thumb circled over your nipple. You giggled against his lips, your own hands had been their exploring as well, feeling the muscular mass hidden underneath the suit, before reaching down to his belt. You fiddled with it for a minute until you pulled away from him.
"Okay, how do you undo this?" You ask. He chuckles, his hands letting go of you to reach down and undo the belt himself, tugging the spandex down enough so his cock could come free- He doesn't wear briefs in the suit.
You gasped at the sight, eyes widening at his girth.
"Like what you see?"
You looked up at him and bit your bottom lip with a nod. He reached for your hand, bringing it to wrap around his cock. "Don't be shy then darling, don't you want to thank me?"
It made you laugh, as you leaned forward to kiss him again. Your hand began stroking his thick cock and he moaned into your mouth.
This was exactly what he needed to get out his pent up energy.
You continued making out as you stroked up, reaching the head of his cock and swirling your thumb around his tip, gathering pre-cum on the pad of your thumb. You let go, bringing it up to your lips to taste as you looked into the whites of his mask- they hid his eyes, but you could tell by how his smile grew he enjoyed what he was seeing.
"Taste good?"
"Very." You grinned. He growled, hands reaching to untie your apron, and unbuttoning your jeans. You helped him pull them off,along with your panties, and kicking off your shoes as you step out of the denim and leaving them on the ground.
"I'd give you a better taste, but I want to get to the best part. You don't mind do ya?" Heat pooled in your core as you nodded. You leaned up to kiss him again, and he picked you up and lifting you up against his hips and pressed you against the wall. You wrapped your legs around him, arms around his neck to keep him close.
With one arm around your waist to hold you up, his other hand grabbed his cock and lead it to your core. He slipped through your folds, lubing himself up with your arousal, the tip of his cock bumping against your clit.
You gasped, following by a moan. Your grasp on him grew tighter.
"You want it?" He grunted, you nodded quickly. "Say it,"
"I want it, I want your cock. I want you to fuck me." You whimpered, hips beginning to move against his on their own accord. "Please-"
He didn't waste another second, his tip pushing into your weeping hole.
"Oh!" You let out a pant, as he slowly pushed inside deeper. Your head tipped back against the brick wall. Your walls fluttered around him,
"Fuck, you feel good, darling." He groaned as he sunk further inside you. He leaned into you, lips finding your neck and his teeth grazing over your skin. He latched himself onto your neck, sucking more hickeys into the skin to distract himself from cumming inside too soon. He let both you and himself adjust to the feeling, before carefully pulling out and thrusting back in.
His cock stretched you open so perfectly. You were tight as first, but relaxed as he let go of his clamp on your neck to coo into your ear with dirty words. With each thrust you wanted him harder, deeper, whimpering and begging him to do so as he returned to bite down on your neck causing you to cry out. Your hand flew up to cover your mouth afraid of anyone hearing you. The bar was still empty when you brought him back here, but that didn't mean no one has come in since.
One arm looped under your knee and lifted you further up on his hip. The change in position sent a new wave of pleasure through you, since now the head of his cock was brushing over that sensitive spot inside. You clung to him, with every thrust brought you closer to your finish, and your undoing.
"Oh fuck-" You moaned. "Please, just use me-"
You words made something snap in him. He pulled out, setting you down and turning you around. He pushed you against the wall, his hands settling on your hips and he pushed himself inside again. You cried out, bracing your hands on the rough brick wall, but he grabbed your arms and pulled them back, used them as leverage as he began fucking you at a rough pace.
You didn't last much longer, you gushed over him as you came. He moaned, his own legs shaking as he felt you get tight around him, your arousal was soaking him- but he didn't stop. You felt so damn good, and he wanted to savor every second. He released your arms as he leaned over you, one braced on your hip. The other, his hand dipping between your thighs and finding your clit.
"How about another one, sweetness?" He purrs in your ear. "You have such a nice little pussy, I want to treat her good."
His words sent shock up your spine, but you squeezed him tight in response. "Please," You moaned, your hands- now free from his grasp of your arms braced against the brick wall again. You turned your head to get a look at him, meeting his eyes and deciding you weren't going to look away. The mask hides them well, but you felt like you could read him.
He seemed to read your mind and smirked. A hand reached up to grabbed your jaw to keep you looking at him. His other hand still circling your clit. He was so deep now, barely pulling out as he grinds into you. Your walls became tight around him again, and your mouth fell open as you came for a second time. He kept you quiet by kissing you again and shoving his tongue against yours, moaning as you trembled and pulsed around his cock.
He pulled out just as he came, your hand reached down to stroke his cock and milk him of everything he got as he spilled over your hand and himself. He grunts as you push him into over-stimulation, and you let go to lick your hand clean with a seductive smile.
After, he helped you get dressed, tugging your jeans back up, and even kneeling down to help you with your shoes while you fixed your shirt and apron.
"A superhero and a gentleman, what a treat." You smiled. He smirked as he stood back up. "Hope that was satisfactory enough thanks…"
"Absolutely…" His hand reached up to cup your cheek, a thumb brushing over your bottom lip.
"Are you going to leave?" You asked, "Cause if Bill isn't back from wherever he disappeared to he will be soon and he'll call the cops when he sees what it looks like in there. Don't want your superhero reputation getting tarnished."
"I'm a mutant sweetheart, to the world I'm already a menace."
You gave him a sad smile.
"I'll walk you back in." He says, his hand beckoning to the back door.
He kept a hand on your lower back as you walked through the kitchen and back out into the bar.
"You sure you don't want me to help clean up? I caused it anyway." He kicks some glass into a small pile.
"No, that's alright, it won't take long." You smiled, "but thanks." You leaned over to kiss his cheek. He begins to walk away but you speak up again "-and uh, Wolverine?"
"Hm?"
"Don't be a stranger, okay?" You smiled shyly. He grinned. His hand reached up to tip your chin up. Without another word he turns but stops as he reaches the door.
You looked up while sweeping to the sound of Bills voice as he stepped inside the bar, a ball cap in hand. "I just ran out to grab Jr's cap that was at home. I was gone for 20 minutes?!"
His arms outstretched in surprise as he takes in the glass on the floor and counter top. Before you could answer, you heard a groan as one of the men from earlier appeared from behind the counter. Apparently forgotten by his comrades, and apparently you and Wolverine forgot too.
"What just happened?" He asks rubbing his head. You and Bill shared a look. You shrugged.
"Oh, uh, Wolverine left this." You stepped over the mess you already swept up and handed him a napkin with an autograph. "For your boy."
Bill took it and looked at it, then back up at you in confusion. You smiled and went back to work, not mentioning the other napkin in your back pocket with a phone number, a heart, and the letter L written on it.
I’m a huge Jason Todd apologist but omg it genuinely must’ve been the scariest day of Tim’s life when some random grown ass man showed up with a Party City Robin costume and started beating his ahh. I don’t know if that’s still canon or not but it’s so embarrassing to the point where I just say it was retconned if anyone brings up that damn speedo and those fairy boots. Istg 99% of being a Red Hood fan is just plugging your ears and going lalala
Like dude take that shit OFF RIGHT FUCKING NOW I beg you.
pairing: whitetiger!satoru x houseleader!reader x oldflame!suguru
𓃮 the path between spring and winter strays between a love as old as time and eyes that refuse to recognize what the soul yearns for. but you tip and crash the pliant lines of fate. now, you can see that there are definite benefits to taming the tiger.
wc: 16k
warnings: initially anal, fingering, rimming, heavy voyeurism on reader's end, orgasm control, power dynamics/corruption. later on, cunnilingus, multiple orgasms, unprotected piv, suguru eats satoru's cum out of you (yeah.), breeding kink, gentle dom suguru and whiny sub satoru (AS ALWAYS!) + satoru cums practically untouched btw, NO dp sadly (i got lazy), HIGH praise, heated homoerotic dynamic
a/n: sorry when i picked out the colors i saw green and blue and it didn't clock to met that. dreamnotfound. does anyone get it. am i just weird. fuck me in the ass anyways HUUUUUUGE THANK YOU TO @nanamitaaa for writing the most DELICIOUS smut i have read in so long and my wifey juju who betaread for me and helped me fix up grammatical inconsistences (love you my wifey)
ALSO. if you didn't know this is inspired by the bl manwha "taming the tiger" by brothers without a tomorrow. it's SO good and it actually has plot! i read it and immediately thought of satosugu and then realized that reader x satosugu in this dynamic is honestly peak. mita and juju thought so too, so now you have this!
general attendance (taglist): @nanamitaaa @cupidstrace @dazedlavender @yukiloverz @indiewritesxoxo
find the rest of varied venom here!
find the rest of my works here!!
dividers by sisterlucifergraphics on tumblr !!!
Nobody dared to touch that which was yours.
“The child of the woman who slit my throat is crying, yes?”
As if on cue, the newborn boy’s shriek split the air.
For a woman whose sole purpose was to provide an heir to the house, the sound sent a chill down your spine. You didn’t let it show on your face, though, as you let the tip of the sword drag on the dirt.
Comfort was a luxury your father’s concubine could afford no longer. Since his passing, the woman had mysteriously grown with child, most alarmingly the son of your father. Just the sight irked you. More so were the rumors that the child was not even his to begin with.
And if her son was to take the throne from you, he would have to do it with his mother dead.
The woman laid strewn upon heaps of hay, stained with her blood. Her lips were cracked. And for once, you were glad you weren’t able to have children. Glad that your one purpose might have caused you death, and you had narrowly escaped its hands at the behest of the entire nation’s scorn.
“I had thought that Father passing before the child was a blessing from the heavens,” you mused. “Now I see it for what it truly is—a curse, as the woman who cut my neck can never be repaid in kind.”
The ladies in the corner, cowering, lowered their heads in shame, refusing to meet your eyes. The baby wriggled from where he was choked in blankets next to the still body of his mother, shrill cries ripped from his throat.
“My lady?” someone called out, voice small.
The sword clattered to the ground as you knelt, curling your fingers under the small bundle. “Small. Yet this little thing has made true the wish I held for so many years of my life. To think, this newborn was the one to kill that woman instead of me…”
You smiled and pressed your lips softly to his wet, wrinkled skin. The baby made a soft, keening sound before relaxing in your arms.
“You took my revenge for me.”
The sun rose. The moon wept.
And yet with each day that passed, your brother grew more ill and frail. With the possibility of an heir expelled by you, the servants of the house turned to gossip about the fate of your sickly brother.
“You still have not managed to find any blood?”
Your advisor bowed at the waist, quivering. Pathetic. “My apologies, my lady. It is just…”
“I’ve been told the butchers are not procuring goods today, either.” You pressed the tip of the pipe to your teeth. “Why?”
“The butchers live in a small village within the mountains,” he explained timidly, “but I’m told one of them has recently passed. When one dies, the butchers halt their slaughtering, as they believe that bad luck can become attached to the meat—”
“Advisor,” you cut in, leaning forward, “if you die, that would be the end of your family line. Correct?”
There was only a split second of shock written on his face before he fell to his knees, crouched into a bow with a squeak.
“Please forgive me, my lady!” he pleaded. “It will not happen again!”
You glared down at his cowering form before turning back to the entrance of the ancestral home. “My brother requires his medicine urgently. If I leave this to your hand, something like this could happen again. Lead me to the butchers’ village before the day’s end.”
You could sense his reluctance washing off of the pale man in waves, evident even as the horse beneath you trodded the path of the forest. Indeed, the village was shrouded in the mountains.
It would be serene if not for the feeling of eyes watching you.
“My lady,” he began quietly, “must you accompany us?”
You glanced off to the side. “Is there a problem?”
“It’s just…” he hesitated. “I’ve heard the tiger’s son lives in this village.”
“Tiger’s son?”
A butcher girl gave birth to a child—a healthy baby boy, with no father. The son grew to be so strong, they said he could even carry entire cows by himself.
The man stressed his eyes. Like the azure of tigers.
“You may think all butchers look strange,” he continued, “but on top of his foreign features, they say his eyes are the deepest pools of water, so deep you could find yourself lost in them, if they caught you alone at night.”
It was almost dreamy, the lilt of his voice.
“A tiger, hm?” you mused. “Very well. I have yet to go on a spring hunt, so the timing is perfect.”
“Pardon, my lady?” the man replied, snapping out of his trance.
“Let’s hunt a tiger.”
You left your little party of worried bodyguards in the shallow part of the forest, where you promised you would return before the sun had abandoned you. Your advisor was not pleased.
That hadn’t stopped the tip of your head, inclined to a few wary butchers standing at the log post at the head of the village.
“I’m looking for the man they call the tiger’s son?” you asked.
“Oh, you cannot possibly mean—”
“Seems like—”
One of the men dipped his head, beard curling to the nape of his neck. “My lady, why do you seek him? Even if you call, he does not come out at night—”
“You fool, how dare you?” his companion scolded. “How can he refuse when her honorable ladyship calls?”
“Apologies, my lady,” he mumbled. “His eyes have a way of crossing travelers at night, and he’s gotten into trouble for it quite a bit around the town.”
“Show me the way.”
The pitiful stack of wood lumped together could not be an excuse for a house. No, it could not. But the men stopped in front of the shameful shack, careful to keep a distance.
“You have a guest!” one of them shouted into the silent night. “Strongest!”
Strongest. What a peculiar name, and what a peculiar way to live.
“Are you there?” the bearded man called, “come out, please.”
But only silence met their pleas.
The moon began to bathe the rolling hills in a pale glow.
“This is a shame,” you said softly, walking up to the bearded man. There was no fear in his eyes as he held your gaze. Pitying. “I absolutely loathe being lied to.”
Your sword never missed its target. The man fell to his knees, clutching his eye. Groveling suited the peasants. They had spoken to you in such an ill manner, so what more did they deserve?
“So tell me the truth. There isn’t anybody here.”
“N-No,” the other man attempted, swallowing hard as the tip of your blade grazed his bobbing throat, “this is where the tiger’s son lives!”
“Really?” The side of your mouth curved. “Let us try this then.”
You walked straight up to the rotting wood, to the scent of something vaguely threatening, something irritating building in the air. You shook off the wafting scent and leaned in close, lips nearly brushing the splintered door.
“Listen, strongest,” you drawled, dripping in mockery, “every time I call your name, one of these villagers will die. It started with an eye, and it will end with lives. I do not hesitate.”
No response.
You returned to the man, shivering at the edge of the yard, lifting your sword.
“Strongest.”
There was a moment of silence. You could have chopped the man’s head off.
The door creaked open.
“Why are you looking for me, my lady?”
That voice from the shadows with the strangest eyes you’d ever seen sent a heat pooling in your stomach, a strange feeling lapping at your chest.
The man in the doorway wore nothing over his exposed chest, merely rags at his arms and billowing around his thighs. The planes of his muscles tilted into pale moonlight as you blinked, mouth dry, suddenly at a loss for words.
He was not. Those eyes met yours once more, cerulean and shimmering with a depth even the universe could not begin to comprehend.
“I am a nobody to you,” he continued, voice quiet.
“Bow your head, and l-lower your eyes,” the man behind you barked, still trembling at the contact of your sword to his neck.
A laugh escaped your throat before you could stop it.
The man on the ground stilled, sitting up. “My lady?” A bag of coins fell against his chest.
“I will take him.”
“Pardon?”
“I’m looking for a personal slaughterer, one who would live at my estate, of course,” you explained. “It is not very entertaining, but you would be provided for, and if you need, I shall offer payment.”
The man in the doorway blinked, milky tresses teetering on the edge of silver brushing against solid wood.
“You see, I despise the ordinary.” You smiled. “But I’ve taken a liking to you.”
“My lady, you must be hungry. Please eat before the food goes cold.”
Papers shuffled between your fingers, slender ink strokes spelling out a tale as old as time—trivial gossip of the rival houses. The world did nothing, if not talk and talk and talk.
“What of my brother?” you asked instead, flitting to the next page.
“The young master has taken his medicine with a share of the porridge and is resting.”
You gave a small nod. “It seems the butcher is doing his job properly.”
The advisor ducked his head. “Indeed. Thanks to him, we have the blood medicine on a regular basis.” He paused for a moment. “Would you… like to see the young master?”
“No.” Your response was immediate. “I do not want him catching something from me.”
Your poor, sickly brother. Touching, if not for the simple fact that his life was the edge upon which you danced a ballad of your house’s fate. And it rested in the crimson droplets that only animals could provide. With their sacrifice, he lived to breathe another day.
“If that is all—”
“What is he doing?” you interrupted, eyes straying to the field where a lone figure stood near the well, hunched over the edge. The tiger’s son.
Water trickled from his body, rippling over his shining skin as he leaned over to grab another bucketful. White wisps of hair remained plastered to his neck, twisting and writhing like snakes with every elegant movement.
“He was covered in blood,” your advisor explained, “so I told him to wash himself before coming to see you.”
“Is that so? The water is quite cold this time of year, yes?” You trailed his actions with your eyes. “But it seems he does not feel it.”
You had already decided on a name for him. The moment your eyes met his, the sense of enlightenment, of knowing—like he could read your soul just from a single cursory glance.
Satoru. The enlightened one. It felt proper, as if it had always been so.
Would he understand, now, if you called for him?
“Satoru,” you attempted, his name falling from your lips and drifting across the still yard. The world seemed, not to hold its breath, but to release it, carrying your words to him.
The man lifted his head, turned in your direction. He was so bold to even meet your eyes, electric windows to the very sky.
“Yes, my lady?” he asked, across the quiet.
“Come here.”
He did not falter in his movements, graceful as he crossed the breadth of the field in less than a moment to arrive at your feet. Satoru hesitated at the foot of your arbor, choosing instead to kneel at the foot of the wood.
“No.” You waved a hand, dismissing the advisor. He lingered near the edge, eyes flitting between the two of you. “Up here, Satoru.”
The man swallowed tightly at the sound, blinking for just a moment before he crept up to sit right in front of you. Water dripped from his very being, clinging to the corners of his eyelashes and pooling at the slant of his chest.
“Pardon, but my lady—” your advisor began.
“No.” You turned back to Satoru, eyes sharp. “Oh, my. You’re dripping everywhere, do you see?”
The man bit his lip, lowering his gaze, cheeks burning with shame. He managed an apology through his frantic swiping at the ground.
You watched him for a moment. How cute.
“Leave it,” you said instead. “Here, eat.”
There was always a dazzling array of foods—seared meat, steaming rice, fresh fruit and sauces dripping from every ounce of it. Satoru was hungry—that, much like everything else, was apparent in his eyes.
But he stilled, hesitating, turning his head from you to the food.
“You want me… to eat this?” he asked.
“My lady, expensive food like that—”
This time, your advisor was smart enough to cut himself off, hissing at the sharp sting of withering coals upon his foot as you tipped your pipe the other way.
“Haven’t I told you how much I despise noise, especially during my meals?” you seethed, although your anger was quiet and subtle and just as horrifying, judging by the horror that struck his eyes. “Leave.”
The man scurried off in a flash of silk and fear.
You gestured to the quickly cooling food. “Eat.”
Never before had you seen a man eat so quickly. He scarfed the food down like the world would end just a moment later, just to rub at his chest after a few such bites. It was charming, the way his eyes kept flying back to you.
“I see you have a big appetite,” you mused. “I think we shall need more.”
“Will you not eat, my lady?” he asked, hands folding at the crux of his thighs.
“Me?” you echoed, fazed. “Whatever are you worrying about me for?”
“Because…” You caught his throat bobbing. “You look pale.”
The remark had come scarring and searing from your step-mother, and then your father, and everyone else who dared to question you. But coming from him, it sounded more like a tender question. Almost… caring.
Almost like the glint of concerned mauve and inky hair in the sunlight.
It was enough to make you laugh, slipping your fingers against the bridge of your nose. “Of course. It shouldn’t amuse me that the only person in this entire estate to truly care for my well being is the lowly simpleton.”
Satoru simply blinked at you and cocked his head.
You shook your head. “Do not worry about me. You eat, first.”
“Your father would like to take another one of mine as a concubine,” you said flatly to the woman sitting across from you. “How does he still have the energy to get up to such things?”
“He is ridiculously healthy,” she replied with a slight shrug.
Only one woman was permitted to be so casual with you, and that would be your childhood friend, Shoko Ieiri. Well, one of them.
“Say, I heard you’ve taken in a butcher,” she continued, raising an eyebrow. “Very unlike you.”
“Satoru?” you asked, the name slipping out from under your tongue.
“Satoru?” she echoed, a laugh following soon after. “That is his name? How unusual.”
“I named him,” you muttered. “They called him ‘Strongest’ for lack of a name, so I gifted him one.”
Shoko was a meticulous woman. When she set her sights on something, it was most often found dead in her fingers. So you could see the intricate strings of her mind weaving the thought she wouldn’t dare say aloud—what possessed you to name a man?
Instead, she replied, “So you are keeping men, now, as pets?”
“It is none of your—”
“You like him so much, but you know, he is an orphan,” she said softly, more concerned than mocking. “How do you think he survived this long? I’ve heard he’s known for burying his head in the skirts of lonely widows.”
The third time you’ve heard such nonsense, and it was beginning to sound like anything but nonsense. Still, if he was good at it, perhaps you could make use of such skills…
“You are the third person to tell me this, Shoko,” you said.
“They have all told you the same thing, my lady.”
“But do you know what else they say?” You leaned in closer. “They say that I have taken him as a concubine. That we engage in sexual intercourse.”
Shoko’s lips parted. “Assuredly not. Who would dare—”
“Just chatter behind my back,” you replied, “but what do you think?”
“Think… of what?”
“Of my taking a concubine.”
Shoko spared a sultry grin. “Ah, have you taken a liking to me? I’d be honored—”
“Crazy woman,” you cut in, but you were smiling as well. True, no one was able to lift your spirits as high as the girl you spent your childhood with.
Footsteps pattered outside of the room. His silhouette and its twin shadow took up nearly the entire plastered window.
“Come in, Satoru,” you said.
“You called, my lady?” he said politely, dipping his head to the lady in front of you even as her eyes widened, darting to you in a silent, I apologize for everything I said before, as I completely understand your thoughts now.
“I can see why women go mad for him,” she said thoughtfully as soon as her thorough examination of him was done. The poor man, he stood through it all rigid, eyes fixed on you like an anchor through choppy waves.
“Do you like him?” you asked.
The corner of her mouth turned upwards. “Are you letting me borrow him?”
“It seems like I may have another use for him, so why not let you teach him?” You shrugged.
Her laugh was like tinkling glass. “Ah, a butcher concubine. How exotic. How old are you?”
Satoru’s eyes had not left yours for a moment. “Twenty-two.”
Shoko tipped her head in your direction. “Then I shall send for him when the preparations are finished.”
On occasion, you allowed yourself to be interrupted while tending your garden. If the situation presented itself to be important, then you would let your fingertips run across the fine petals and calm yourself.
If not, you would take the insolent brat and toss them in a river.
This time, your robe was already slipping from your shoulders as you prepared to rest, yet your eyes were not nearly tired enough from the day. Perhaps if you stared at vibrant bursts of color, you would find—
“… My lady.” Satoru’s voice, for such a large man, was awfully small.
“Come in,” you said softly, continuing as soon as he was knelt behind you, “and what bothers you now?”
Satoru averted his eyes. “That woman… from today. Ah… am I meant to…”
You turned. “That’s right. Are you against it?”
He lowered his head. “That is…”
“There are rumors, of you,” you replied. “I am simply taking advantage of them. Making full use of what is mine. Why? Does this bother you?”
“I am… unsure,” he admitted suddenly. “I have never… done anything further than…”
“Is there truly a difference?” you asked, knowing well enough that there was a difference to the light in his eyes.
“Back then…” he paused, “I did what I had to because I was hungry and needed to survive.” His hands trembled on the carpet, eyes fixed on his further whitening knuckles.
“But now your stomach is full?” you finished, stepped forward. He lifted his gaze just enough to graze the skin of your ankles. “Oh, what to do. I already promised, hm?”
Kneeling in front of him, you traced the unsteadiness of the column of his throat, his thighs shifting, pants tenting. His eyes were sinful, indeed, wandering over you fitted in loose robes and far too much exposed skin.
“To think you say you are unsure even as your eyes are anything but,” you continued, pulling at the neckline of your robe to let the skin of your collarbone shift against the silk. “I think you are lying to me. You should know something—I don’t like when people lie to me, Satoru.”
The pink of his tongue ran across his lips. “Since you are so pretty, my lady—”
You bit back a laugh, instead choosing to let the mocking smile drip across your lips as you pulled yourself back to your feet. “I was right, after all.”
“Pardon?” he whispered, breathless like you had taken the air from him.
“You get excited looking at women,” you replied simply, “and that is enough for now.” Your fingers curled around his chin, forcing him to look upwards into your eyes. “I found you because I have an excellent eye for people.”
The tip of your thumb tugged at his lip. He opened, obedient, eyes half-lidded as you let your finger roam around the pad of his tongue, the ridges of his teeth.
“How could I not use you?” you mused, although it was more to yourself. “It would be a waste of such a fine creature, no?”
You leaned forward, tugging him closer, voice pitched feather-soft.
“Tomorrow, after spending the night with her, come see me. If you like, you can have me too.”
That haze in his glassy eyes was unmistakable.
“Yes, my lady.”
“The preparations are complete,” Shoko lilted. “Tonight, we shall find out if your little pet is capable of living up to your standards.”
“Since when were you aware of my standards?”
“Since you brought home strange butchers without my permission,” she replied.
“Remind me again why I keep you around?” you teased.
“Who else would look after you as well as I do?” Shoko grinned. “Now, let us be on our way.”
In some strange, twisted game, you would never have to tell her what you were planning. It was as if you could see your own thoughts reflected in endless fields of fertile soil, the seed of your ideas planted in your presence.
So, in keeping, she knew that you were about to head to the market to watch Satoru with your advisor as they bought and fitted appropriate clothes for tonight.
Shoko offered to come along, no doubt to ogle at Satoru as he tried on different fabrics. You couldn’t stop her, as the thrum of her blood was almost as exciting as yours.
More out of sorts, the merchant your advisor had stopped at—by chance, perhaps—was shaking his head and muttering.
“No, no. We do not sell to butchers,” he growled, accent heavy under his words. “Do you want to get arrested? Who would waste precious silk like this on a butcher?”
Your advisor scowled. “Now, see here, don’t you know what—”
“Who, you ask?”
It was almost endearing, the way Satoru perked at the sound of your voice, twisting to see the origin of the sword whose holster’s edge was currently pricked at the merchant’s neck.
“So if a butcher wears silk clothes,” you continued, tilting the blade up, “he’ll be arrested and taken to the government’s office?”
“M-My lady—”
“Him, getting arrested, or you dying by my sword.” The glint of the eerie sunlight and your eyes shone in tandem. “Which do you think is faster?”
The man swallowed.
“Stop worrying over senseless things and get to work,” you purred, “before I come back here and finish the job myself.”
“U-Understood,” the man stammered, shuffling back to his stall.
“My lady, I insisted that—”
You cut your advisor off with a hand. “Nonsense. I do not need others to do what I am perfectly capable of doing myself.”
Satoru’s eyes dipped lower, to the fabric spilling from your hands. “My lady?”
“Do you like it?” You held it up to his skin, admiring the brush of silk against smoother skin, the vibrancy of his eyes. “It suits you, Satoru.”
“Me?”
“Who else?” You pressed a palm to his chest. “Yes. Or tell me if something else is to your liking—”
“No,” he interrupted, proceeding to flush, “it is perfect, my lady.”
“You think so?” You draped the silk over his shoulder. “Not too heavy?”
“It is light,” he replied simply.
The light of his own eyes sparkled back at you. Darker, still, than Shoko’s light gaze fixed on the two of you.
“Say, the way your peasant looks at you is cute,” she brought up on the walk across the bridge. “I do not know why you would name such a beautiful man Satoru, of all things. You should have named him… butterfly, or something.”
“Butterfly?” you mocked. “Watch your mouth. You know how I am.”
“Alright, alright,” she relented, drifting past you. “You will still let me borrow him, yes?”
“I shall think of it.” You smiled at her open mouth.
But the highlight of your day was found upon the glinting of your sword as you sharpened it. Sparks flickered between your skin, but your vessel would never harm you. It was your only source of compassion, of worry, of care.
Lately, you found yourself wondering if you had found yourself another source. A living, breathing source, with a warm body and a soft smile and hair like splintered moonlight.
“My lady, may I enter?” His voice was always so careful, as if he feared raising it would result in shattering the silverware stacked in precarious towers around you.
“You may.” You ran a finger along the flat edge of the blade, satisfied at the sheen, at the sheer beauty.
You were no less satisfied when you finally laid eyes on Satoru’s waiting form, kneeled in front of you. His hair, captured in milky ringlets atop his head. Eyes boring into yours, alight with liquid gold.
“Very nice,” you said, finally. His body relaxed, slightly. “I think Shoko will like you very much. I was unable to have your clothing ready for tonight, but they will be ready the next time.”
“Will I not be undressed when I… commence, my lady?”
You stood. “Yes, well, you cannot keep greeting guests… half-naked, Satoru.”
He did not look embarrassed. Only slightly worried.
You reached out to grasp his chin, running your finger along his bottom lip. He parted his lips, as if on silent command, but you shook your head.
“Satoru, you’ll do well tonight for me, yes?”
“Yes.” There was no worry nor hesitation in his answer.
You smiled. “Then come find me when you are finished.”
A golden ribbon of tea unfurled from the kettle, steaming as it pooled in your cup. Not much longer until the silence of the night would settle in your mind.
A knock rattled the thin frame of the door. “M-My lady? Are you awake?”
“No use asking when that surely would have woken me,” you mused, setting the kettle aside. “Come in.”
You hadn’t regarded his state when he stumbled inside. You were focused on trying to set the temperature of the tea to a warmth that would surely calm his nerves. You had hoped Shoko had satisfied him, to some level.
But there was nothing but longing in his eyes as he knelt, nearly crawling up to where you were seated, fingers brushing against the fabric of your robe.
“My lady…” he whispered, then again, “my lady.”
“Yes?” you asked, fiddling with the cup.
“Please,” he nearly whined, forcing you to finally spare him a glance.
A robe of his own was half-undone, sweat beading at his brow. His frame shook with every shallow, unsteady breath he took, eyes heavy as they ran over yours.
You glanced downwards, to the prominent bulge against his stomach.
“Impatient, are you? Well, a promise is a promise.”
You expected nothing from a man—to rip off your clothes and push himself into you, to use you, simply put. But Satoru was nothing like any other man.
He dipped to his knees, unsteady as his trembling fingers untied the knot of your robe. Once it fell away, a gasp parted his lips as he leaned forward.
“My lady?” His fingers reached out, brushing against the scar on your neck. A crimson reminder that no matter how far you ran, how safe you felt, there would always be a target on your back.
Your lips pursed. “Never mind that.”
“Are you… okay?” he whispered.
You found it in yourself to laugh, short and cruel. “It comes as a shock, even the second time. The only person to ask me of my scar happens to be the one peasant I choose to bed.”
“My lady… I did not mean…” Satoru cut himself off, instead choosing to grasp your fingers and lead them to his hair.
You threaded, then tugged, experimentally. The beginnings of a sweet sound coiled in the back of his throat as he began to press hot, open-mouthed kisses to the damp fabric covering your pussy.
Satoru hooked his fingers into the curves of the fabric and pulled down, blinking with bleary eyes at the sight of your swollen and glistening folds. His eyes flickered to yours, burning, before he buried his face between your thighs, laying waste to your dripping cunt.
When you guided him upwards, he rolled his tongue over your clit, flicking it back and forth, wringing more sweet nectar. Slender fingers dug into the globes of your ass, kneading the flesh as he let you pull him harder against his greedy mouth, grinding against his face.
His tongue chased the building pressure unfurling rapidly in your lower belly, a ribbon of pleasure spooling from your entrance, parting with the flat of his tongue then delving inside, plunging into your tight heat with a guttural moan.
Satoru stroked along your walls, his nose pressed tight against your clit. The obscene sound of his mouth working at your cunt filled the room, mingling with the shallowness of the night.
“I take it,” you managed through heavy breaths, “that Shoko did not satisfy you?”
Satoru shook his head, still between your thighs, refusing to part to reply.
He lapped at your clit, suckling the sensitive nub, pulling the arch of your body before you could even think to stop him. Your thighs trembled around his head as he pressed the broad side of his tongue deeper into your fluttering walls.
It took him a moment, of your overstimulation and prying him away, for him to lean back, running his tongue over his lips. His eyes stayed fixed in a trance on your drooling pussy, almost in a daze as his own fingers moved to unravel the strings of his robe.
And perhaps the lack, thereof, of a male concubine was why your lips parted at the sight. His erect cock was tufted with snowy hair at the base, flush against his stomach. Even while leaking with beads of precum from the mushroom tip, he merely leaned forward, muffling a soft moan in your skin.
“My lady…” he whispered. “I… I cannot.”
“Cannot… what, Satoru?”
“I-Inside… I have never…” As he swallowed, his skin seared where you brushed his cheek, pulled his gaze back to meet yours. “I am afraid.”
“You need not do anything you do not want to,” you crooned, tucking strands of fallen moonlight behind his ear.
“But I would like you to feel good,” he mumbled, lips curling into a pout as if he was angry with himself for just the thought of fearing this.
You could not blame him any more than you could blame yourself.
So instead, you guided his body against yours, lifting your hips so that his hands were pressed against the back of the apex of where your upper and lower thighs met. Without complaint, Satoru settled between your thighs, cock slipping easily between your slick folds, thick head nudging against your swollen lips.
Almost instinctively, he started to rut against you, his hips rolling and rocking as he dragged himself along your slit. His sensitive tip caught on your clit with each gentle thrust, forcing his eyelids to flutter shut, hiding those pretty blues from you.
“No,” you said softly, “open your eyes.”
The corners of his lips quivered as he gazed back down at you, fingers that were previously resting on your hips reaching down to spread your folds and expose your clit so that the curve of his prominent vein fit nicely against it.
“Oh, my lady—hah—you will be my end,” he whimpered, muscles flexing like there were restrains holding him back. “I think… I am addicted.”
Rolling your hips, you pressed harder against the hot, swollen weight of him grinding between your thighs, chasing the flash of electricity akin to his eyes when the crown of his cock skimmed your clit.
Those buzzing irises were caught on the sight of his cock sliding in and out of the tight press of your thighs, even as his fingers padded at the plush, gently trying to pry you apart.
“My lady, y-you cannot—” Satoru cut himself off, pressing his teeth against his bottom lip before immediately continuing, “don't stop, please don't stop.”
“Do you know what Shoko said, this evening?” you said, a teasing smile dancing over your lips.
“W-What did the lady—ngh—say to you?” he managed in reply, although it was clear his thoughts were entirely elsewhere.
“She said ‘butterfly’ is a more fitting name for you.”
Satoru stilled the pace of his hips, brows pulling together. “But… I have grown attached to the name you have gifted me, my lady.”
“Is that right,” you mused, “Satoru?”
He swallowed, continuing the steady drag of his hips, kissing against yours where pale skin met the apex of your stomach. His body was much closer, the distance too little to bridge the soft whine that fell past his lips.
“Once… once more, please, my lady?”
“Satoru,” you whispered, repeating it like a promise, “Satoru, Satoru.”
It only took that, and a moment in his mind before his cock twitched between your thighs, pearly trails streaking over your body. There’s a pause as he took a breath before flushing madly, bringing his fingers to his mouth, shame piercing his words.
“I apologize, I made a mess,” he managed, ears pink, eyes feverish.
“Then clean it up,” you breathed, cradling his body as he lowered his tongue without a question, lapping at your skin, at his cum forming translucent pools.
“Thank you,” he whispered, “thank you so much, my lady... I needed you so badly it almost hurt.” He pressed a kiss to the swell of your stomach as your fingers wove into his hair.
“You have clients, Satoru,” you tried to say, but he silenced you with a broad stripe of his tongue to your hardened nipples, sealing his lips over the peak for but a moment. “Or would you prefer to just be mine, forever?”
Against the heel of your foot, his cock stirred once more. You grinned.
I need water. It must have slipped out between lush moans and praise, however many rounds later. You had lost track, and your mind was too hazy to even think of attempting to keep count.
“My lady?” he asked, stilling the pace of his hips.
“Who said you could stop?” you slurred, batting at his shoulder.
“My lady, are you thirsty?”
“Haa—‘s fine, continue,” you mumbled, buzzing from a pleasure now dulling between your thighs. You grasped at his arm even as he glanced around the room.
“I shall fetch you water, my lady. I will be right back.”
So you laid your head back, fanning at your face, fingers creeping above your stomach. You didn’t bother touching, for you already knew no matter how much you tried, you were absolutely ruined for his touch, and his touch only.
It seemed the same could be said back.
You had heard the clatter, soft yet noticeable, right outside your door the moment they tried breaking in. You didn’t anticipate any interception from Satoru, at least not this early on.
“My lady,” his voice came through the door, muffled yet strained, startling you. “Please cover yourself.”
You threw the robe over yourself, asking, “What happened?”
A man covered in black found his place, thrown on the ground. Satoru pressed his foot into his back, pinning him down, his robe rippling over his feet.
“Who are you?” he pressed. The man choked on his words, gasping for air, clawing at the ground, at the distance between you and him.
Satoru narrowed his eyes. “Have you come for the lady?”
Poor soul, he nodded, not truly understanding the depth to which Satoru asked his question.
Shoko had always been a horrible judge of character. It resulted in her lying in the bed of a man she did not know, then resorting to her pipes to smoke away her worries.
So when Satoru snapped the man’s neck with a clean twist, then kicked him away, you were inclined to laugh.
For how was this a butterfly?
You had named him fittingly. Satoru truly was enlightened.
For instead of reveling in the rush of his actions, he crossed the room to fall at your feet, on his knees as he looked up at you with the most reverent of eyes.
“My lady, forgive me.”
“For what?”
“I didn’t bring the water.”
“Is that so?” His face was warm, flushing where your fingers brushed against his skin. “Is bringing me my water more important than this?”
“Yes, of course…”
There was a dazed look in his eyes, as if there was no other correct answer.
Smiling, you stroked his cheek, leaning forward enough to let your noses brush. His clothed cock grew rigid against your thigh once more, and he bucked his hips, whining into your neck as you whispered in his ear.
“Good boy, Satoru.”
“My lady?”
A sharp ringing pierced through the serenity of your still, quiet mind.
“My lady, are you there?”
No, not the voice you wanted to hear. Not Satoru’s voice.
“My lady! You must wake!”
You blinked, sitting straight, waking to a bed still balmy with warmth and arousal. Sticky messes trailed from between your thighs up to your chest.
“What time is it?” you called out, horrified to hear the scarred mess that was tumbling from your throat.
“Three in the afternoon, my lady,” your advisor shouted back. “I did not wish to disturb your rest, so I returned later. However, this is quite—”
The rest of his complaints faded into the buzzing in your ears. Three? In the afternoon? I couldn’t have slept that long. I haven’t slept at all in…
Satoru’s silhouette flashed behind your eyes.
What was going on?
When you, the daughter to one of the most prominent houses in all of the empire turned thirteen, an assassin snuck in and slit your throat.
It was rumored to have been the very concubine whose child now called you elder sister. You would never let him carry that burden, that guilt.
And now, you spent your restless nights keeping yourself occupied with thoughts of a lifetime, tending to your garden, or brewing tea.
Sleep would not come to you.
So how had you slept so deeply last night?
“Listen,” Shoko insisted, drawing your attention and thoughts back to her. “That butcher is extraordinary. I can count on a single hand how many nights were as magical as that one.”
“Magical,” you echoed, “is that so?”
“How about handing him over to me?” she suggested. “Name any price, my friend, and I’ll give you double.”
“I might let others borrow that which is mine,” you warned, “but I do not give them away.”
“Of course, of course.” Shoko shook her head like she could ever come close to understanding it. “You would rather destroy something of yours than hand it over.”
After all, there was a reason no one dared to touch that which was yours.
You knelt before the pedestal, the image of your late mother staring back at you. Her eyes had always been cold, words crueler.
When she died, her hand reached for your cheek.
She did not comfort you. Did not wipe your tears.
Your mother rested her hand and told you, “Your father never loved me. And in the end, he will never love you, either. Nobody will.”
That wasn’t what you wanted to hear.
“Mother.” You met her eyes through the portrait. “In this godforsaken place, I have found one who cares. Amusing, as he comes from the lowest of all my collections. When even you could not protect me…”
The thin wood snapped under your fingers.
“My lady. I have brought your infusion.” Your advisor bowed, carrying a tray with a cup of the most horrendous tea you had ever tasted in your life.
“I’m told it is stronger than the last?” you confirmed.
“Yes.”
“Thank you. You may leave, now.”
You brought the bowl to your lips, preparing your throat for the dry, bitter swirl.
“My lady.”
“Is that you, Satoru?” You lifted your eyes. “Come in.”
“My lady, I—”
His eyes widened as he saw your lips brush against the rim of the cup. With what time you had to blink, he crossed the threshold of the door and swiped the bowl out of your hands.
“My lady, please do not drink this.” Satoru brought it to his nose, dragging a long inhale before shaking his head. “It has been tainted.”
“Oh, my sweet. That is precisely why I must drink it.”
The smile on your face did nothing to combat the horror on his.
“My… my lady?”
“I can see you don’t understand.” You grasped the bowl from his trembling fingers, unable to stop you. “If I drink this and live, I’ll tell you myself. If I die, ask my advisor.”
The taste of poison was a little sweeter when Satoru held you in his arms, sweet voice calling out for his lady. You slipped into the darkness like a tear for the sea.
When you woke, it was to a clear mind.
Drinking poison to stay alive. How pathetic. You’d laugh if it weren’t so horrible.
“My lady?” Satoru asked quietly as you blinked up at the still ceiling.
“Ah.” You folded your hands over your chest. “I survived.”
“Why…” he murmured, swallowing. “Why would you do such a thing?”
“There is a bounty on my head,” you said simply. “Assassination attempts are common. Yet I wonder, why are you here?”
“The medicine…” He shook his head. “I needed to stay by your side and watch over you.”
“You… protected me?”
“Yes, my lady. I shall protect you. A person is defenseless when they are asleep.”
Not quite. You reached out for the collar of his robe, pulling him down onto the ground to lie besides you.
“Please rest, my lady,” he insisted, even as you burrowed your face into his chest, into the smell of sunshine, eternity and earth.
Maybe you… will save me.
Shoko tipped the glass back, the curve of her neck cascading with her seventh drink of the night. But she had always handled it well.
Even now, with her flushed cheeks, she managed to make coherent thoughts.
“Where is Satoru, anyways?” Save for her words, strung together and choppy, she maintained excellent posture, eyes rapt and alert.
“I think he is with a client,” you mused, nursing your first glass.
“Aw,” she whined, planting her hands on the ground. “I’m too late.”
“Yes.”
“Ah, by the way,” she said suddenly, perking up, “I ran into Sug—”
“I’m leaving!”
The door slammed shut in the room across from your mother’s quarters, where you and Shoko had taken refuge from your advisor. The woman storming from the room fumed, face flushed, robes askew.
“What happened?” you asked, standing to greet her.
“My lady!” She spoke with respect, yet her tone was pitched octaves far too high for your ringing ears. “That butcher! I came because Lady Ieiri had preached of his talents, but he can’t even get it up!”
“Can’t get it up?” you echoed.
“Huh?” Shoko slurred.
“In any case, I’m leaving,” she blustered, pulling her robes up and stomping out of the estate.
“Shoko, leave,” you said quietly, turning back to the room where Satoru was.
“Huh? Why?” she whined. “I have to be alone, again?”
Your advisor found her quickly with her loud complaints. He even sent her home, without a word. The entire estate avoided you until the moon was at its peak. Perhaps they could sense your displeasure.
“I heard you failed a client, Satoru.”
The man in question bowed, shame painting his ears, face lowered to the ground.
“Why?” You crouched in front of him, robes spilling in front of his curved form. “You had no problem getting aroused for me.”
“That’s because... it is you, my lady,” he said simply.
“So you’ve become attached to me, is that it?”
Satoru didn’t answer at first. Just nodded, swallowing thickly.
“Please…” he said, softly, “please punish me.”
“Punish?”
Your fingers found the mess of his hair, pulling sharply back to expose the slant of his jaw, tilting upwards to you.
“Your tongue. Show me.”
Satoru’s lips parted and you pressed yourself into him, teeth grazing, almost as if to devour him whole. His eyes softened, body relaxing.
That was when you sank your teeth into his tongue.
Not too deep, just sharp enough to leave blood dripping into his mouth. And instead of reacting to the pain, Satoru keened back into your touch, even as you retracted.
“From now on,” you began, running the ruby of his blood over your teeth, “I will watch. So look at me when you need to become aroused. After all, you should prove your worth to me, no?”
Satoru blinked, panting, crimson dripping from his lips.
“Yes, my lady.”
You watched the conversation from the shadows.
Yes, indeed, Satoru admitted affection so easily. Even now, he flushed to himself as his fingers brushed against his tongue, soothing the sting of phantom teeth.
And yet your eyes, glassy in his reflection, were still entangled in the gaze of another. Everyone was forbidden from speaking his name. Shoko was the lone exception to the rule.
Suguru Geto.
A old flame, perhaps. Rekindled by the sparks of hatred as your swords clashed in a field where blood ran thickly into the dirt. Even thicker was the loathing in his eyes as he regarded Satoru calmly.
He was always quiet in all the ways that truly mattered.
Suguru stood there, silent, plum robes rippling over his frame, hair pulled back into an elegant twist pinned at the nape of his neck. Stray strands fought to escape with the wind, escape from the tension pricking at his glowing skin.
“You there.”
Satoru turned, glancing over his shoulder, a hand lying dormant on the flank of the rumbling cow.
“Are you going to slaughter that cow? Have you reported it to the governor’s office?”
“I do not know,” he replied, calm as ever.
“Failure to report the slaughter of an animal is illegal.” Suguru stepped forward, waning the distance far too much for your liking. But you remained still. “The lady certainly has spoiled you.”
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
“It’s quite clear, in the way you speak to me without bowing your head.” Suguru raised an eyebrow. “Leave the cow. I will register—”
“I cannot,” Satoru cut in. “I must finish what my lady asks of me.”
Suguru’s eyes flashed, then, faintly. Perhaps shock, that a mere butcher would speak down to him.
“‘My’ lady?”
“Not yours.” Satoru’s eyes sharpened. “Mine.”
There was a moment of silence, then. You pondered what Suguru’s face was doing.
“Do you know, I was her first?” he remarked suddenly, unprovoked. Simply for the love of the truth that you found yourself loathing less and less with every day you spent apart.
Satoru lifted his head, unbothered. “And I will be her last.”
The tip of Suguru’s sword, but a mere extension of his arm, grazed against Satoru’s neck. You had always seen it as the tips of his fingers, even now as they brushed against the column of the other man’s throat.
Satoru didn’t fight back. He simply let the other man push him onto the ground, dust caking his clothes. Suguru’s foot found the plane of his stomach, pinning him down, a smirk playing at his lips.
“From your attitude, I expected more,” he drawled, pressing the tip of his foot a little deeper into the skin as Satoru hissed at the contact, “but this is pitiful. Perhaps I should put you out of your misery and make it so that you cannot join us on the hunt?”
Yet his fingers restrained. It was unlike him to hesitate.
Perhaps Suguru had noticed you, earlier. Perhaps that was the sole cause for his little show. Because his eyes showed no concern nor shock as your sword swept mere inches from his eyes, parried by his own blade.
You pulled the conflict away from Satoru, pulling himself up from the ground, eyes reverent as they wandered over your dancing forms. Suguru was skilled with a sword—his talents spread through the empire.
But you were always better.
His blade clattered against the ground, dirt and metal making an unlikely pair as you forced him further back.
“With those skills,” you said, “how do you expect to protect Her Majesty, Suguru?”
“How can I win against you?” he replied calmly. “You’ve always been a match for a thousand warriors.”
The flattery was pleasing, at a time. Before it was thick on your skin and suffocating with the promise he held in his eyes.
“And yet you dare to make a disturbance in my home?” The sun glimmered off of the blunt side of the blade.
Suguru brushed it aside, deftly avoiding the blow. “Indeed. That butcher has quite the attitude.”
“That would be because I spoil him.” You smiled, eyes dripping over the way that spot between his eyebrows creased. “I ask for your understanding.”
As if the needle pressed between his chest weren’t enough, you decided to wedge it further.
“Satoru,” you called, “come here.”
“Yes, my lady.” His hand came up, absently, to brush dust off of his clothes as he wandered towards you, confused.
“As his master, punishing Satoru is my responsibility, no?” You asked, not bothering to wait for a response as you tilted your head back, fingers curled around the back of Satoru’s head, tugging at his hair. “Open.”
On command, he parted his lips, exposing his healing tongue. You didn’t have to look to see the lack of surprise when you bit back down into his tongue, pressing your lips back to his.
“I believe this is appropriate punishment,” you crooned, pulling away for a moment to glimpse Suguru’s expression—crestfallen, the sun beyond the horizon.
Satoru’s eyes remained locked onto yours, save for the flit of them to the man spanning the distance of years upon years of regretful love.
When their eyes met, the world took a breath.
It was like seeing light for the first time. You opened your eyes, that day.
“Do you know that man, Satoru?” you asked that night, twirling a strand of your hair through your fingers.
“I am… unsure, my lady.” His jaw ticked, a mere second in the time of his truth. “He feels familiar. Who… who is he, to you?”
“Why?” you mused. “Are you jealous?”
“He expressed affections for you,” he muttered, crawling a little closer from where he was perched in front of you. “I… I did not like that.”
“What did you say to make such a quiet man mad?” You had witnessed the conversation, true—but your main intent was to hear it from his lips.
Satoru flushed. “I… called you mine, my lady.”
“Is that so?” You raised an eyebrow, feigning faint surprise.
“I assumed that since I am yours, you are also mine,” he explained quietly, lips ghosting just a breath from your skin. “I apologize, my lady.”
You stifled a laugh. “You are too cute, Satoru.”
He let out an unsteady breath, finally allowing his lips to press soft, chaste kisses to the skin between your neck and shoulder. “Am I truly?”
“Whimpering like this for me, yes.”
“I would like to be cute for you.”
You pulled his face back up towards yours, pressing your lips to his, tasting blood where his tongue darted against yours.
“Doesn’t your tongue hurt?” you asked, pausing to take a breath.
“You could bite it off, and I would thank you,” he replied, hushed, nipping at your bottom lip.
His forehead was warm, flushed already as you pushed him away, refusing to relent just yet. “I see disciplining you is pointless.”
“If this is my punishment for misbehaving,” he murmured into the shell of your ear, “then I shudder to think of my reward if I was good for you.”
“Wouldn’t you like to find out?”
“The government has decreed that you were absolutely debauched,” Suguru argued, spine straight as the slant of his brows pulled together. “Why, after so long of being compliant?”
“Me? Compliant?” you scoffed. “You truly never knew me, then.”
“With them,” he corrected, slender fingers scrubbing down his face. “I trust you keep out of trouble, only to hear that you are massacring a village the moment I turn my back.”
“I did not ask for you to watch me,” you snapped. “You are the one who arrived at my doorstep threatening to harm my advisor’s family if you were turned away.”
“That man believes truly anything I say.” That smile that fluttered across his thin lips used to fool you into nodding along to whatever he said.
That was before that smile stole your first kiss. Your first time.
“Perhaps that is—”
“Wait,” he cut in, narrowed eyes zeroing in on your skin, “your throat. Did you truly manage to get hurt? Are those battle wounds?”
You pulled at the fabric, displaying the handiwork of Satoru’s desperation to prove that he was good last night blooming rosy and lush across your skin.
“Is that what they look like to you, Suguru?”
His lips pursed, earlier smile slipping from his grave expression. “Do not test me.”
“It shouldn’t bother you,” you continued, tugging the sleeve of your robe up, “especially considering that you were the one to end things.”
“That was because—”
“Yes, we do have responsibilities,” you finished, “so I repeat, Suguru, why are you here?”
You would be lying if you said you didn’t like the distress pressed into the corner of his mouth.
“That man…” he mumbled. “Something feels strange about him.”
“That would be jealousy, Suguru,” you chastised.
“No.” Suguru swallowed, hard. Now this—this was new. “I fear I have seen him somewhere. I… I know him. In my soul.”
You blinked, then shrugged, like the very implication of his words hadn’t sent shivers down your spine. This was going to be interesting.
The day of the hunt. The very day that you had made excuses to weasel out of, until the tension with Suguru mounted to a point where he refused to speak to you since that incident.
Which served as a problem, since your advisor was currently fumbling with the navigation. His brows pulled together, lips twitching as he mumbled something to himself, eyes darting around the trees crashing into one another.
Satoru walked alongside your horse, refusing one of his own. Your advisor would make a fuss if you dismounted, but he was busy with the maps.
You slipped off of the side of the steed, accepting Satoru’s hand as you hiked the fabric past your ankles.
“You must save your energy, my lady,” Satoru began to fret.
“If you will not ride, neither will I,” you replied simply.
After a few more minutes of wandering along the path, you pulled your advisor back by the ear and sent Satoru off into the forest to scout. That was primarily so you could threaten the man’s family in peace as he cowered under you without Satoru getting turned on in the middle of the forest.
And he would never admit it, for he would never complain to you, but he missed the fresh air. You could see it in the way his muscles, wound with tension, uncoiled like freed snakes. Satoru missed his home. He was the tiger’s son, after all.
The grass, moist under your fingers, twisted under your weight as you laid out on it, ignoring your advisor’s protests of ruining the silk. You were due for a new robe—why not enjoy your quiet respite in the forest?
The peace was quickly interrupted by the slick sheen of an arrow passing through a bow—a sound and technique pricking your ears from childhood. You sat up, peering in the direction the sound had come from.
Your sword glissanded from its holster with a sharp hiss, only to your ears as you crept up to the clearing. In the dizzying sunlight, you caught a writhing mass upon the ground.
You caught the distinctive white that came with its opposite black, the absence and presence of color entangled in the grass. Soft pants could be heard, and from this angle, you could not discern what they were doing.
You shifted to the side, curious.
Suguru was pinned to the ground, a feat you had never managed, as he always preferred to dodge your advances. But Satoru’s palms were planted on either sides of his head, threaded through the inky strands of his hair.
And yet the most surprising aspect of it were their eyes.
A galaxy spared between a blanket of sky captured in Satoru’s and the velvet whispers of Suguru’s, searing and dripping from their eyes, cooling quickly enough to create threads of sweet, fragile stars twinkling between their bodies.
Satoru panted, softly, sweat forming a slight sheen on his forehead.
Suguru reached out, up to the heavens to brush cloudy hair from starstruck eyes. His lips formed a silent question, mouthing, “Who are you?”
The sereneness was interrupted by a bird fluttering back to the sky, conveniently perched on the tree you were managing to lean against. Satoru’s head snapped in your direction as Suguru pushed him off, trying to manage a scowl and failing.
It should have been strange. You should have felt anger. Envy. Hatred.
But instead, heat was pooling between your thighs like it was the most natural thing on the earth. As if watching two men holding gazes and feeling something from it was completely normal.
You grinned, unfazed. “Well, don’t cease this on my behalf.”
It seemed the two of them made a conscious effort to absolutely loathe one another the next few times you caught them spending time together.
Even when you watched from the shadows, their earlier affection was nowhere to be found. Only impertinence woven into their words.
Satoru stood a good distance from a wooden target, struggling to string the arrow. Suguru tapped an impatient beat on the ground, raising an eyebrow.
“It seems you are just her pet, after all,” he sighed. “Good for nothing more.”
“At least I am of some use to her,” Satoru shot back. “She only tolerates you on the grounds that you refuse to leave the estate.”
“I thought all butchers were skilled with the bow and arrow?” Suguru jested.
The white-haired man ducked his head, glowering. “I was never given the chance to learn.”
Suguru simpered. “Who is useful, remind me?”
“Do you plan on teaching me or not?” he snapped.
You had never heard your beloved pet speak to anyone in such a manner. It was… enlightening, in a way. It bought you time—time to think of all the ways you could twist this into your hands.
Suguru still had not apologized. Perhaps it was time for him to receive all the agony he caused you over the years.
That evening, Satoru got on his knees. He leaned towards you, but you grasped his chin instead, forcing him to look up at you.
“You understand, Satoru,” you said, “you were supposed to take clients.”
His mood immediately soured. “My lady—”
“I refuse to hear it.” You blinked down at him. “You are taking a client today.”
The sapphire of his eyes dimmed. “Will you watch?”
“Yes. You will only ever take one client from now on. Suguru.”
An unnamed emotion flickered across his face, softening the frown puckering at his brows. His bottom lip quivered. “I…”
“What?”
“I have never…” A rosy glow suffused his cheeks. “I have never done it with a man before. I am afraid, my lady.”
“It did not seem like you were afraid of him this morning,” you drawled, pressing the heels of your feet together.
“You… you witnessed that?” If it were possible, he flushed a deeper shade of crimson.
“It was hard not to. The two of you flock attention like moths to a flame.”
If they were anything like they were in the sparse moments you had caught them alone together, away from the eyes of the world, they would be fine. Satoru did not argue. Then again, when had he ever argued against anything you said?
Suguru arrived a short moment following your heavy silence. The door slid open—what a heathen, refusing to knock or announce his presence.
“You called for me, my lady?” No use with the title after his impudence. You couldn’t help but smile at the thought of him receiving all his dues upon this one fateful night, and he was completely, blissfully unaware.
“Please sit, my fiduciary advisor,” you mocked. “Although, I do wonder why you must house yourself in my estates to take this title.”
“If I did not take residence here, just about any other could claim me as their advisor.”
“Perhaps I would like you to be claimed by another,” you teased.
His eyes met Satoru’s, first, before they sliced back to you.
“Pardon?” he asked, swiping a hand over the back of his neck.
You rested your cheek on your open palm. “This is not a request. It’s a performance. I shall take audience. Unlike our last untimely meeting, make this worth my time, Suguru.”
You had expected a shameful flush, stammering and attempting to rectify the situation.
Instead, Suguru tipped his head. “I see.”
“You seem unsurprised.”
“Perhaps I had wondered when this day would come.”
Now it was your turn to raise a brow. “Truly?”
He chuckled, low in his throat. “Truly. I just did not expect to be handed the script.”
Satoru remained quiet through the exchange, jaw working, something like respite in his eyes as Suguru met them once more, gentler.
You reclined into a room humming with unspoken tension.
They held their gazes for a moment that brimmed with much that you couldn’t catch between the passing of their eyes before Suguru’s hands were reaching for his neck and their lips pressed together furiously.
And it felt… even better than it should have. Better than that day in the forest. Better than the thoughts of watching this, because it was truly happening in front of you.
Satoru’s fingers were already tangled in Suguru’s hair, tugging just enough to make him smirk against his mouth. Their kiss was slow, deliberate—heat and hunger and the best of the two men. Suguru’s hand slid beneath Satoru’s shirt, knuckles grazing skin you knew stretched vast distances, and Satoru shivered, eyes never leaving you.
Breath caught somewhere between your ribs and your throat, you watched as Satoru broke the kiss first, lips slick, eyes dark. He turned his head just slightly, enough to meet your gaze.
“You are truly watching,” he murmured.
Suguru laughed. “Did she not say that?” he asked, thumb brushing against Satoru’s jaw. “That is the point. You do not wish to disappoint your lady, do you?”
And yet for all his talk, it was Satoru’s hand that dipped lower, teasing the knot of the other man’s pants, hips shifting in response. The same slender fingers that pulled at said knot, unfurling silk against thighs that flexed as Suguru pressed his palms against his chest.
Suguru’s cock pressed against his thigh, rigid against Satoru’s hesitating fingers. He swallowed, throat bobbing, but Suguru just caressed his cheek and guided him downwards, to where the apex of his thighs met in a slice you could not see.
Much like how they sunk into your wet heat, Satoru drew his tongue over his trembling fingers and pushed the first two inside him easily, eyes tracing over the sly smirk curving Suguru’s lips.
“You were speaking so highly before,” he whispered, his own voice quiet enough for the pin-straight eeriness of night to seep through, “and yet you cannot manage a single word now, can you?”
Satoru swallowed, dazed, entranced on the steady descent of his fingers. “M-My lord—”
“Ah, so it’s my lord, now,” Suguru continued, trailing a finger down the quivering jawline of the man hovering over him. “Do you see this, my lady? It seems I have tamed the tiger.”
“Not quite,” you replied, shifting Satoru’s attention through half-lidded eyes still glued to the sight.
"You are beautiful for a man,” Suguru mused, drawing splintered cerulean eyes back to him, “when you are like this, especially. You can give me another, can you not?"
Another finger joined the first two, and yet Suguru seemed unbothered. It was Satoru hissing lowly at the contact, teeth bared, heat and urgency and the soft rhythm of his fingers stretching the other man open.
“Do I feel like her?” he asked, breath hitched, spine arching as Satoru’s fingers worked deeper, precise in his torturous cruelty. “Like your lady?”
“… N-No, my lord,” Satoru replied lowly, “you… you are another thing entirely.”
And you found yourself liking it. No — loving it.
The way their eyes kept flicking to you like you were the center of gravity in the room. Their beings, their softness, their warmth. It all belonged to you. Every gasp, every thrust, every broken sound.
You need not touch them. No words fell from your lips. Simply your being there—watching, owning—was enough to satisfy the heat blooming across your chest.
And for a moment, you were content to keep it that way.
Yet something darted across your tongue.
“Come here,” you said, soft.
Satoru paused in unraveling the knot of his own pants, their eyes snapping to you in tandem. Only but a few feet away and yet they crossed the distance before you could blink. The planes of existence tilted and crashed into one true universe buzzing at your fingertips.
You smiled. “Did I tell you to stop?”
They exchanged glances.
“But my lady—”
“The proximity—”
“Hush,” you silenced them. “I believe I was quite clear with my wishes.”
They stilled, just for a moment. The quiet stretched, thick and electric.
Then they moved again, the skill of a lifetime in lovers’ intentional movements, touching like they had been starved for it.
Satoru had never done this before. It would have been wrong for you to strip that away from him. But this—this felt natural, like the glide of lily pads atop a still lake. Their touches were innate and native to their fingers.
The need for this felt stronger than the need for either one of them, separate. One entity, much like the whole, was more than the sum of its parts.
Satoru’s pants hit the floor, fingers blending against Suguru’s hips. His cock jerked at the other man’s back, beading with dripping pearls, prodding at the rim. No fear shone in his eyes, no reflections of the nights he spent with himself between your thighs.
Only pent up frustration relieved into a single, soft sigh as he lined up and pushed in with a low, guttural sound that dissolved into the walls.
A sharp exhale left Suguru’s lips, parted with his head thrown back, fingers clawing at the ground. But even then—even with their bodies meeting at a crux nowhere near you—their eyes met yours.
Satoru whimpered, a sound so raw it barely sounded human. Every roll of his hips sent sounds spilling from his mouth. Not quite words anymore, just broken, breathless whines.
“Please,” he gasped, voice wrecked, “do not stop. Don’t—my lord, please.”
“I have no intentions of stopping,” Suguru said casually, as if Satoru’s fingers weren’t tightening into furious red crescents on his pale skin.
The cloudless sky of his eyes squeezed shut, ending entire worlds with the tick of his jaw. Unsteady breaths forced his chest to rise and fall, shallow against Suguru’s back.
He arched, letting Satoru’s cock plunge deep, unhurried inside him, composed of fluttering eyelashes and low moans, brushing stray locks of snowy hair from his eyes. Locked onto your intent gaze, then one another, swimming in the deepest love with every moment that passed.
“I'm so close...” Satoru whined after a few more intentional draws of his cock inside, “you will break me—I can't take... take it—"
“It seems you are still able to speak properly,” Suguru cooed, “so I understand that you can take it."
“Ohhh, my lord, mmph—I cannot," Satoru gasped as Suguru's legs locked around his hips, lithe muscles twitching, "I… I will… ohhh, I will cum—"
“What a messy mouth on you, Satoru,” he mused.
Satoru absentmindedly brought the broad side of his arm to swipe at his mouth, wiping his glistening lips.
“I-Is this… better—hah—my lord?”
You enjoyed it more than if he was directly touching you. It was something of the way he unraveled under Suguru’s touch, something completely misunderstood. You merely felt the connection, especially when the man reached up to cradle your face.
You tilted your head as he pressed his lips against yours, a low groan splitting the silence even as Satoru steadily increased the pace of his hips. A keening whimper tore from his throat at the sight of your fingers brushing Suguru’s hair behind his ear.
“Do you like this, Satoru?” you mused, glancing up at him. His bottom lip was caught between his teeth, face flushed a shameful hue. “Do you enjoy watching me kiss him?”
“N-No—”
“What did I say about lying?”
“… Yes, my lady.” The moment it left his lips, he seemed infinitely lighter, leaning forward to press his clothed chest against Suguru’s back. “I-I like it—oh—I truly do.”
Suguru inclined his head back, letting Satoru meet his lips urgently, as if he was able to taste you on his lips. Ivory on pearls looked quite nice, you thought.
Your fingers danced down Suguru’s side, lips quirked as they curled around his leaking cock. He blinked up at you, reverent, eyes blown in a silent question—is this truly happening?
There was no need for you to answer aloud. Just the action of pulling him back in, other hand prying at Satoru’s lips, tongue inviting and warm around your fingers, was enough to convince him to flutter his eyes shut.
“M-My lord,” Satoru mumbled around your fingers, tongue lapping at the taste like there was ever one, “may I please? I-Inside?”
“Whatever the—ngh—lady wishes,” he managed between your chaste kisses.
“I—I can’t,” Satoru gasped, burying his face in the curve of Suguru’s neck. “I’m close—my lady, please…”
“Only my good boys get to finish,” you said. “Are you good, Satoru?”
He nodded frantically, eyes glassy, lips bitten raw. “Yes, my lady. I’m yours.”
“And you, Suguru?”
His voice was a rasp, broken and nearly as gone as his eyes. “Always.”
“Then show me,” you whispered, nodding to the white-haired menace gripping at Suguru’s curved back, fingers scrabbling for purchase as he pounded further, deeper.
Satoru’s cry was muffled against Suguru’s skin as he came, trembling, undone. Suguru followed moments later, his body shuddering, coating your fingers in webs of white that matches the strands of hair plastered to Satoru’s neck.
You reached up, brushing a strand of damp hair out of his quivering eyes, fearful as he retracted, cock hanging low and throbbing to the pulse of his heart.
But Satoru didn’t stop there, eyes flitting low, to the pearly mess smearing from between Suguru’s thighs. The other man caught his gaze, a smirk playing on his lips.
“Look, you’ve made a mess,” he crooned. “Clean it up, will you?”
Satoru lowered his head, as if trying to mask the heat of excitement behind false shame as he grasped Suguru’s skin, parting to lick a long stripe over the stream of slick pooling at his entrance.
“God, you’re filthy,” you chuckled, even as his eyes flashed with something vague and completely unwavering, tongue feverishly dipping between strands of white, his own cum coating his lips.
“Apologies, my lady, my lord,” he hummed against Suguru’s inner thigh, tongue darting back to lap at the remaining cream oozing from pale skin. “I didn’t intend to make a mess.”
“I think…” Suguru exhaled. “I think you have done enough. I am tired.”
“Oh? You have tired the great Suguru Geto?” you mused. “Well done, Satoru.”
Satoru whimpered at the praise, eyes fluttering shut. “Thank you, my lady.”
Suguru’s jaw ticked, eyes narrowed, yet not in simple feigned annoyance.
“You’re jealous,” you said, not bothering to look back at him.
“I’m insulted,” he corrected, “for you watched me fall apart and instead offer him comfort.”
You tilted your head. “Would you like comfort, Suguru?”
He did not answer right away. But his eyes—those eyes—burned.
“We did not… lay our hands upon you,” he said finally.
“Only my good boys get to touch me,” you answered softly.
Satoru stirred, lifting his head from your lap. “Am I good, my lady?”
You smiled down at him. “Yes.”
Suguru’s voice followed you out of your trance. “And me?”
You didn’t look up. “You’ll have to earn it.”
It became a regular occurrence after that night.
Every so often, you would look up from the reports and see Suguru’s expression softening into a smile. And every time you turned your head, you would see Satoru gazing at the two of you fussing over fiduciary issues.
Even if he was completely oblivious to the tension, you soon found out he did not tolerate the slightest sliver of hate for either of you. It should have come as an unwelcome surprise, but you were not completely cruel.
So instead, you pressed a finger to his protesting lips to silence him as Satoru mingled near a few of your advisor’s men—they always spoke too loud. Words that would most likely fall on deaf ears, as you could not be bothered to occupy yourself with reprimanding them.
Satoru had no such qualms.
Suguru was only here to hear what they spoke of him, after all.
“Lord Geto has no business lingering here for the time he has,” one of them blurted out. “Does he have nothing to spend his days doing? Of all the estates to pick…”
“He has grown close to the lady and her… butcher,” someone said cautiously. “I am beginning to think her taste in men is… quite strange.”
“Perhaps she has finally snapped,” the first one reasoned. “It would explain—”
The man never finished his sentence. He was on the ground, pleading for mercy under Satoru’s foot before he could even think to complete the thought.
“I can hear you whispering under your breath,” he warned, resting his hand atop the leg pressed against the man’s back. “I have very good hearing, you see? Be careful what you say—a slave mustn’t curse his master, after all.”
He moved his foot. Suguru shifted under the tree, his body brushing against yours as he leaned forward to get a closer look.
“Don’t you see?” the man choked out after a cough, “she’s replacing you as her pet—”
This time, Satoru had no reason to pin him down with his foot. There was a dagger singing through the air to do that for him, forcing the cowering man back onto the ground.
For a moment, you thought he would truly stab him. It would have been an absolute hassle to handle—your advisor would have been furious.
But instead, he stilled, the blade brushing against the man’s neck.
“I once killed a man, for my lady,” Satoru whispered, almost too quiet for the two of you to hear. “I would do it for my lord, as well. They would be angered, but only if they come to hear of it. It causes me to wonder what it would take for a loud man such as you to die quietly.”
Satoru backed away. Evidently, his message was pressed in the worried lines of all the other men bowing their heads before scurrying away.
Suguru’s lips parted as Satoru caught your gaze, immediately perking up and crossing the distance of the field to approach.
“I apologize for having not noticed you, my lady, my lord,” he said, dipping his head in cadence. “I would have conducted myself better if I had known—”
“Forgive that, I quite dislike that man,” you replied, resting your head against his chest. “You should have ended his life.”
“Shall I finish the job?” he asked, craning his neck to scan the field. “I am sure—”
“No, no,” you muttered. “Too late now. And my advisor would have my head.”
“You would have his head before that,” Suguru pointed out.
“Oh, hush,” you snapped. “Who asked you?”
“Suguru, do you not have something to say to the lady?”
“Ah.” You had never seen him so… unsettled in all your life. If anything, Suguru Geto was a composed man of his fraying morals and questionable sanity. “Indeed.”
“Well?” You raised an eyebrow after a moment of earth-shattering silence.
“I… I was wrong.”
Just the admission sent your heart fluttering. You stood straight off of Satoru’s chest, turning to regard him with your full attention.
“Our… my responsibilities should not have been an excuse to stop loving you.” Regret pooled in the heavy shards of amethyst that met yours. “I mourned the loss nearly every day. I am sorry.”
“How long have I waited to hear those words?” you asked aloud, tapping a finger to your chin. “Perhaps I should make you wait nearly as long as I did.”
“Your sword would be more a merciful death,” he drawled.
“You are forgiven,” you mused, “yet the question lingers—why not return? Why say this now, after so many years?”
“It was you,” he replied, but he was no longer speaking to you. Instead, his eyes were fixed to the man standing behind you, always a distance spanning someone else’s body. And yet this time, you found yourself not minding. “You are familiar to me. You make me do things that I would have never dreamt of otherwise.”
“I told you she would not be angered,” Satoru said haughtily, lifting his chin.
“Ah, so you were conspiring behind my back.” You shook your head. “I should have both of your heads for that. My punishment shall be swift and merciless.”
“You will enjoy her punishments, my lord,” he added.
“Is that so?” Suguru took a step forward.
For a moment, the delusive prospect of a promised future sept into your soul. And in a twin breath and shared grins, they melted away all your doubt.
The sun had fallen from its perch in the sky long before you had started. Tipping back another drink, the haze in your eyes did nothing to cover the concern in the two mens’ eyes.
“My lady, perhaps you should stop here,” Suguru suggested.
“I do not understand.” Satoru frowned. “What is happening?”
“She’s drinking…?” Suguru blinked. “Have you never drank a sip of wine in your life?”
“That simply can’t be!” you giggled and handed the bottle of rice wine over to him with shaking hands. He accepted it, of course he did, but with wary eyes.
“What has it done to you?” he whispered.
“The lady cannot handle her alcohol very well,” Suguru replied.
“The lady most definitely can!” you snapped. “The lord happens to be a lightweight.”
“Lightweight?” Suguru pursed his lips and snatched the bottle away from Satoru, pouring himself a drink with much steadier hands. It disappeared with the bobbing of his throat and the admission of your lie—Suguru had always handled it better than you had.
Even now, the light of his irises only shimmered as twin drops of lavender in the reflection of Satoru’s wistful eyes.
“Now you,” you commanded, edging the bottle back along to him.
Satoru swallowed. “Must I?”
“Your lady demands it,” Suguru teased.
You did not expect him to grasp the bottle so tightly, nor wrap his lips around the edge and start downing it in one sitting. Yet neither of you could find it in you to stop, only collapse into one another in laughter.
When there were only crimson speckles at the bottom, Satoru pulled away with a gasp, blinking, bleary-eyed. The bottle thudded against the ground as he regarded the two of you.
“That was vile,” he said suddenly. “How can you stand that?”
“I happen to prefer red wine over all other drinks,” you said sweetly. “Father used to say it was the mark of a true noble.”
“I would prefer to be a butcher if it meant staying away from that…” Satoru shuddered.
“Perhaps we have found the true lightweight of us three,” Suguru mused.
Five drinks later, and clothes had been discarded all along the floors. The house slumbered with the sereneness of tension uncoiled, and yet tension was all that was lingering in the air between the three of you.
“Let me give… give you a child, my lord,” Satoru whispered suddenly, “please.”
“Are… are you speaking to me?” Suguru glanced over his shoulder, where the other man was staring down at him with half-lidded, unrecognizable eyes. “Satoru?”
“Yes,” he answered, far too quick, words slurred. “Please. Will you allow it?”
“I cannot…” Suguru’s voice cracked into a laugh. “This cannot be happening.”
“Are you denying me, my lord?”
“How would that would work?” It seemed Suguru was open to entertaining the idea, even as his lips quirked in your direction.
Satoru’s hands found their home on the crest of the man underneath him, the swell of his hips. “A child. Right here. I never miss my target.”
“That wasn’t what it looked like with archery,” you teased from your perch, nursing yet another bottle of wine.
Satoru’s eyes shot to yours. “Then, will you, my lady?”
“What?”
He had never approached you, during this. Always a respective distance, spanning Suguru’s body, and you were content with it that way. Perhaps you enjoyed it more.
But it would never hurt to find out. Especially when Suguru crept behind you to cage your body in his own, fingers running over your pebbling nipples, and Satoru crowded between your thighs with a gaze of a man that was dangerously ruined.
“Let me give you a child, my lady,” he repeated against the plush skin of your thigh, “please.”
“Or would you like me to do the same?” Suguru’s lips ghosted your neck. “My lady.”
“Is that a challenge?” Satoru lifted his head from where it was inching to the apex of your thighs.
“Why not?” Suguru rested his chin on your shoulder, locking eyes with him.
Perhaps you should have stopped them there. It was never a competition between the two of them—or at least, it was never meant to be. Yet you were too far to be saved.
Satoru’s tongue lapped at your folds, dragging it, measured before pressing against your clit. If not for Suguru’s gentle hands cupping his head, your thighs would have closed in him.
Suguru’s own lips left searing bruises blooming over your skin, over the old ones Satoru gave you before. His hands occasionally drifted past the space to roll the peaks of your nipples between his thumbs, his other fingers tracing the prominence of your collarbone.
He brushed against the scar painting a thin rivulet across your neck.
“You are safe,” he whispered at your immediate tensing, “for we will keep you safe.”
“Is this good, my lady?” Satoru panted from between your thighs, hips rocking against solid ground as you nodded down at him, relaxing. His whimper broke off as he lowered his head, tugging the flat of his pink tongue up your drooling cunt until it kissed your twitching clit.
Your lips parted in a moan as you pulsed around his tongue, arousal laving against his face, nearly drowning out Satoru’s whines. The silence stood loud around his soft pants.
“Well?” Suguru asked, breaking the quiet. “Do you plan on standing there forever?”
Satoru blinked, jerking out of a trance fixated on the slick dripping from your pussy. “No, my lord.”
This time, there was no fear in his eyes as he held your hips with a reverence that could only be exemplified by the push of his tip against your wetness. His eyes darted from where he was disappearing inside you, to your eyes, to Suguru’s lips against your neck, as if he could not pick a single spot to fixate on.
Satoru leaned forward. “My lady? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” you managed, nodding, “keep going.”
Suguru parted your thighs with one hand and a slight burn that coiled in your stomach, as his other hand gripped Satoru’s chin and pulled his gaze down.
“Eyes down here,” he mused. “Watch what you are doing to your beloved master.”
Satoru set a steady, almost maddeningly sedate pace, his hips rolling in a deep, grinding rhythm that had your back arching over Suguru’s chest. He kept his eyes locked, electric, on the way your walls fluttered and clenched around him, trying to draw him in deeper.
“My lady—” he cried softly, as you took him in even deeper, by some magical means.
"You are so good to me," you whispered, leaning into to brush your lips against the shell of his red-hot ear. "So patient and gentle. You can cum inside, if you’d like.”
“Give her a child, Satoru. Mhm, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Suguru continued, threading his fingers in damp strands of milky-white.
Satoru’s eyes widened and his hips stuttered from where they were pressing against yours, losing his rhythm as his orgasm suddenly crashed over him, forcing him to bury his face into the crook of your neck.
"Oh, thank you—god—thank you s-so much, my lady," he whimpered, his cock throbbing hard inside you, twitching as it shot thick ropes of hot cum inside you.
Suguru curled his fingers around Satoru’s chin, tilting his face to press their lips together insistently.
“But a shame.” He smiled, pulling away. “I hate losing.”
Before the world could right itself and you could recover from the stars sprinkled across your vision, Satoru was tossed behind you, hands wandering. Suguru was pressed between your quivering thighs like he had always belonged there. Greedy fingers pried at the gaping hole of your pussy, streams of pearly white dripping down your folds.
“You smell so sweet,” he groaned against you, breath heady. “I am not a wasteful man, my lady, do not fret. I shall swallow every last drop of this creamy load before giving you my own.”
His tongue curved, lapping at the mess, swirling yours and Satoru’s cum into his mouth and swallowing without hesitation.
With a final, long lick that had you shuddering, Suguru pulled back, lips glistening with a wicked grin. He paused just long enough to settle between your thighs, the thick head of his cock nudging against your slick entrance.
"Let us make good on the past, hm?” he asked softly before he surged forward, burying himself to the hilt in one powerful thrust. Unlike Satoru, he gave you no time to adjust, immediately setting a brutal, punishing pace, hips slapping against yours.
When you tilted your head back, you expected Satoru’s face to be alight with horror. But instead, the back of his hand was pressed against his mouth as if to mask his expression, heady eyes lidded, skin flushed as his chest rose and fell against your back.
Amidst it, Suguru leaned down to kiss Satoru over your shoulder, brushing ivory hair behind his ear. “What’s wrong, Satoru? Do you like this?”
The other man shook his head frantically, but he didn’t need to offer a lie. His cock was already hardening, proving his pitiful attempt futile, twitching against your back. Suguru turned his velvety gaze back to you, the arch of his back hitting spots inside you that sparked flames behind your eyes.
“Surely mine will take,” he mused, lips hovering mere inches from yours, “as you seem inclined to milk me dry, my lady.”
You let your head rest on Satoru’s shoulder, forcing steady breaths through your lungs. Suguru’s hands slid down to grip your thighs, fingers neatly sinking into the soft flesh as he pulled your legs up and over his shoulders.
The new angle allowed him to drive into you even deeper, the head of his cock now pecking at your womb with every thrust, hot silk wrapped around his aching cock.
“Suguru—” you moaned, wanton against his soft groans.
“Come now, my lady,” Suguru purred, “you need only give the word.”
“Please.” Your fingers reached up, scrambling for purchase on the smooth planes of his skin. “Just—oh, god—do not make me ask twice.”
“I would not dream of it,” he chuckled, resting a flat palm over where the outline of his cock pressed against your stomach, eyes flitting back up to cerulean blown out in awe. “After all, the lady always gets what she wants. Isn’t that right, Satoru?”
“Y-Yes, my lord,” he replied quietly, swallowing thickly.
The rhythm of his hips refused to cease as he drove himself into you, chasing his own release as your walls fluttered around his cock. Your nails scratched down his back, nearly drawing blood as he buried himself into your wetness fully.
With a breathy moan escaping his lips, scalding ropes of thick, potent cum painted the inside your spasming cunt. Suguru’s hips made small, gentle circles, his semi-hard cock still buried deep inside you, peppering your face with soft, sweet kisses.
“I could stay like this forever, inside you,” he whispered, “you feel too good to leave.”
Suguru tilted his head past your ear, pressing his lips to Satoru’s in a deep, lazy kiss, groaning lowly at the contact. His cock slid against your back, slick with precum, a whimper slipping past their entangled tongues.
"Mmm, kiss him like that," you moaned softly, “show him what that filthy mouth can do besides talking.”
Suguru scoffed against his lips, but Satoru was too far gone. Eyes glassy, hips rocking faster against your soft skin, grinding with his palms planted on the ground.
“You f-feel sooo good—oh god, mmph—p-please, I n-need to cum s-so badly,” Satoru begged, whining at the contact as you met his thrusts, his leaking cock twitching against your back.
“Already?” Suguru smirked. “It’s only been… five minutes, Satoru.”
“My lord, I can't... I c-can't—hah—” Satoru choked, his voice breaking on a strangled sob. His chest rapidly rose and fell with the crest of his shallow breaths as his milky strands of his seed painted your skin, coating your lower back and the curve of your ass in a sticky, pearlescent glaze.
As the last weak spurts of his release dribbled down your back, Satoru leaned forward, resting his head on the arc of your shoulders as Suguru murmured soft nothings in his ear.
“So you have won,” he admitted, lowering his eyes. “My lady… she will carry your child now?”
Under the assumption that he had done absolutely nothing to stop it but watch, you pressed his fingers to your lips, quirked in a smile.
“Ah, so you have not yet told him,” Suguru said, eyes alight.
“Told… what, my lord?”
“I cannot conceive an heir, Satoru,” you replied. “Have you never wondered why the people of the estate speak so low of me?”
Satoru blinked. “You… cannot?”
Suguru laughed. “Enlightened, you say?”
You swatted at his arm. “I’d like to see you admit something, then.”
There was a brief pause as you watched the slant of his jaw work, the light behind his eyes flickering in thought.
"We could stay lost in you,” he said suddenly, louder against your challenge, almost like a declaration for the waiting world, “drowning in your touch, your scent, your taste. Admission enough for you, my lady?”
“You speak as if we will die soon,” you mused, shaking your head and resting your palms on his chest.
“One day… I would like to make love to you, my lady, with the lord,” Satoru said tentatively, nearly shamelessly save for the crimson flush of his cheeks, his fingers trailing the bridge of your arms up to Suguru’s broad shoulders. “Properly, with the two of us inside you.”
“What a dirty fantasy,” you replied, leaning back to accept a kiss from his reverent lips. “Perhaps tomorrow. Tonight, we rest.”
“We?” Suguru echoed.
“Where else would you sleep?” You smiled. “Away from me?”
Somehow, Satoru had heard your mumbling of night chills and Suguru’s agreement. He then proceeded to refuse to let you rest without dressing the two of you properly.
So with silk robes sliding against blooming skin, Suguru perched himself behind you, letting your head rest against his chest while Satoru sprawled out with his head in your lap, fingers curling at the plush of your thigh.
That was how your advisor found the three of you the next morning, sun peeking through the shifting door. He blinked, then slid the door closed, telling the maids not to disturb the lady as she slept peacefully for the first time in months.
While you dreamt, it was more so simply thinking.
You saw yourself in the two of them. Time aged you. Or experience. The case stilled to a single reflection upon dappled water, in which you gazed into azure and mauve eyes. Yet one thing remained constant in all the universes flashing before your eyes.
When Suguru found you, you acted a lot like Satoru.
And when Satoru found you, you acted a lot like Suguru.
You recognized that much, and came to think that they saw their past love, in you, and this was merely a resurrection of a presence strong enough to transcend entire lifetimes. Perhaps it was misguided and misplaced, in the image of a past love.
And perhaps you should have stopped, there, with the false realization that they did not love you. But you knew, even somewhere in that soul that rested beneath you, that it was untrue. Somewhere along their journey, they met you separately, and fell in love with you separately.
Only with your intervention had they rediscovered their love for one another.
So, truly, it was all thanks to you. You woke to the notion that this love was reignited, a spark amidst a never ending flame, by your gentle hand. Everything shifted with something worth holding onto—the soft certainty that some flames never truly died.
And you would tend to the fire long before you would let it go out.
They spoke, of course they did. The nation did nothing, if not speak. But they could not lay a finger on your pets. In the end, they belonged to you.
Satoru on your right, always, his pearly hair tangled in your fingers with those electric eyes serene. Suguru on your left, always, ivory hair cascading down his back as he sat with his cheek in his palm and legs spread in a manner that was most definitely uncouth.
You never said a word.
After all, they would be perched at your side until the end of time.
And nobody dared to touch that which was yours.
a/n: woah, you made it all the way to the bottom! here, have a glass of wine🍷<33 hopefully you enjoyed! i loved writing this one <- probably my fav out of my three kinktober fics! likes and comments always appreciated! love ya <3
Hey does anyone rmr these satosugu x reader fics where the reader and Satoru chained Suguru up to a bed to smack his ass as a prank, or one where the reader and Suguru had to be outside on the balcony bc Satoru couldn't stop farting?? 😭And they treated getting through the front door around Satoru was like Mission impossible 😭😭😭
I also think the author had a series about a reader from our world that's suddenly transported into JJK and is married to satosugu
I swear the username had something to do with cigarettes or smth
