your nerdy fuckbuddy gojo has a tongue piercing?!?
“gojo—“ you said. “pause. stop.” you added, pulling his head up, away from your pussy. normally, you’d never stop him. ever. he pushed his slightly fogged up glasses up the bridge of his nose, and then spoke, his tone quiet and worried. “wh—what’s wrong? did— does it not feel good? a—am i going too fa—“ you shook your head quickly, and then sat up on your forearms.
“no, no, of course not— it’s .. i dunno. something feels.. weird. sort of.. cold.” you spoke, feeling sort of uncertain and deluded. you had never felt this feeling when he ate you out. you grabbed his chin lightly, and then thumbed at his lips. “do you have ice in your mouth or something?” you asked.
“uh—no..? but.. i.. can if you’d like that?” he said, looking up at you with a worried expression on his face. as he spoke, though, you noticed something shining in his mouth. “open your mouth.” you ordered. and he did so. quicker than you’d expected. he stuck his tongue out, and you gasped. “when did you get that?” you said, staring at the metal ball on his tongue.
“um.. a few days ago. i lost a bet with my brother.” he said, scratching his head and looking away, almost like he was embarrassed. “your brother.. the one in the fraternity?” you asked. “that’s the one.” he confirmed. wasn’t too far off from him. you’ve met him before— saturo. the sleazy, disgustingly sexy yet dangerous frat boy. you’d be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t want him.
“hm.” you said quietly. “do you like it?” he whispered, going back down so his nose was level with your cunt. “does it make you feel good?” he said, his breath fanning over the sensitive flesh. he gave you a long, slow lick, from your hole to your clit, not breaking eye contact. “when i got it done,” he said quietly, giving your clit a sweet kiss, and snaking his arms around your thighs to hold you down, so you wouldn’t twitch so much. “i couldn’t stop thinking of you. i was so excited to use it on you..” he murmured against you.
he reached up his hand, dragging his middle finger and ring fingers from your clit, down to circle around your hole, and then finally, inserting them in. he leaned up to you, giving you a sweet kiss on the cheek, then another against your ear as he fingered you. “satoru—“ you moaned, watching as his fingers disappeared in and out of you. you bit your lip, and then he leaned down to capture your lips, wasting no time to use his tongue.
his tongue circled yours, and you moaned at the taste of yourself, and the feeling of his metal on your tongue. “i lost the bet on purpose.” he whispered against your lips. “i overheard you talking about guys with tongue piercings, and..” he said softly, giving your lips a chaste peck, his thumb moving up to work your clit as he fingered you. “i got jealous. jealous that you potentially didn’t have me in mind.” he said, brushing his nose against yours. “i wanted nothing more than for you to experience this. nothing more than for you to use me for as long as you want to.” he said, his tone almost whiny as he pleaded.
Nanami’s wife had a big teeny tiny obsession with sundresses. In fact, over a quarter of your wardrobe was occupied with sundresses hung meticulously in colour order along the railing. You looked so happy in them, eyes creasing as you smiled with glee.
It drove Nanami absolutely crazy.
Of course he loved the dresses and he loved seeing you happy even more, but the way the material hugged your chest and hips, the way it flowed beautifully around your lower half and swayed in slow motion whenever you moved had him going insane. He felt his cock hardening whenever you walked out of the bedroom and the self control he had to teach himself was becoming unbearable.
“Kento? Are you okay?”
His head snapped up to your eyes instantly, reaching for your hand and kissing your knuckles gently. “Sorry, sweetheart. I’m fine.”
“You seem distracted,” you add on.
“Just… work stuff,” he lied, trying to avoid eye contact with your yellow sundress, little blue flowers printed over it.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
Your adorable concerned expression had Nanami staring down at his lap, counting to ten in his head to try and prevent all the blood rushing to his groin. His jaw tightened painfully.
“I’m okay, darling. Thank you for offering.”
You wouldn’t let up though, unable to move on from the conversation because of how weird your husband was acting. You squeezed his hand gently from across the dining table. “Kenny, are-“
You pause mid sentence when he groans, eyes squeezing shut. With a curious mind, you lean down to look under the table and notice the large bulge forming in his work trousers.
You can’t help but burst out into giggles.
Nanami stares at you like you’re personally offending him.
“Love, it’s not nice to laugh.”
“Aww, you’re so cute, Ken! Why didn’t you just tell me?” One foot outstretches to press against his groin under the table, eliciting another low moan.
“Didn’t want to make you uncomfortable,” he grits out.
“Hm? How do you mean?”
“I didn’t-“ His breaths becomes shorter. “-want to make you feel sexualised in your dress.”
You beam. “So you like them that much, huh?”
He groans again when you rub over his hardened cock slowly. “Don’t tease, darling. You know I love them, and you.”
“Oh, I know. Now I wanna see just how much you love them.”
Synopsis: What happens when a duke drinks one of your fake love potions and blames whatever he feels for you on it? Presuming you cursed him instead, he drags you back to his mansion and refuses to let you leave until you reverse the spell.
You’ve now been working for four months to cure a curse that doesn’t exist, and the duke has somehow become even more obsessed with you.
…At least you’re finally getting paid.
The duke has gotten moodier.
Like he wasn’t moody enough, he was now as annoying as a pesky fly. Always hovering around.
And it’s unfortunately interfering with your ability to work. (You’ve become a workaholic ever since you stepped foot on his mansion, just so you could leave sooner.)
He’d sit by your table, head propped lazily on his hand, and with the other he’d play with your hair.
“Your hair is weird.” He’d comment casually, pointing out your hair type. It doesn’t matter if other people also had straight, wavy or curly hair. Yours was still somehow the weird one.
It’s become a routine for him to nitpick something about your appearance, habits, or personality whenever he could.
“It’s just hair, Your Grace.” You say with gritted teeth, his hand still stroking your hair distractingly.
“Hm.” He’d simply hum, and go to another strand, feeling the texture between his fingertips.
“Is it because you’re a witch you look like this?”
You pause the work in your hands, glancing up at him with squinting eyes. Is he saying that because of the rumors calling witches ugly?
“Like what?” You ask, trying to see where this was going.
“Pretty.”
His answer came immediately, simple and clear. His face not changing one bit.
You stared at him dumbfounded. Somehow, he’d managed to call you pretty while making it sound like an insult at the same time.
You worried all the antidotes he’d been drinking were giving him such strange side effects.
Or, the other possibility is that someone must’ve hit him on the head. You wouldn’t be surprised if he’d angered anyone by now with his prickly demeanor. Actually, you pray someone hits him just to satisfy your own desire.
His hand continued playing with your hair, while his eyes watched you languidly without shame. You hoped he could see the tick mark appearing at your forehead from anger, because you were this close to actually causing him brain damage if no one else does it before you!
Just one comment, I dare you! You glared at him. And he caught it, eyes widening for a bit.
“Even your eyes are weird.” He leaned closer, examining your eyes and pointing out their color like it’s something unnatural. But he doesn’t stop there, gaze dropping down to your hands now.
He wrapped two fingers around your wrist, frowning.
“And what kind of wrist is this small? You’re so weak it’s alarming— ACK.”
His comment was cut off by a hard bonk to the head from you, making him bite down his tongue.
“GET DOWN!”
The servants standing aside immediately duck on instinct, waiting for the splash of red to paint the room.
…
A few seconds of silence passed before they finally dared to peek open their eyes. To see you were still… intact? And without a single scratch even.
Instead, they find it was the duke who looked harmed, rubbing his head with a sulky expression.
“Why do you look so angry? You’re supposed to be smiling like what the books said…” The duke looked down glumly, and the servants couldn’t believe their eyes. Was the duke pouting?
You, however, didn’t look fazed by the sight. “I don’t know what you’re talking about but you should know better than to talk about a woman’s appearance like this!”
The duke stared back at you, his lips pressing into a thin line.
“Look, I don’t understand why you’re even here but—“
He stood up straight, making you pause your words to crane your neck back up at him. His height even more intimidating with you still sitting down in front of him.
“You… You are a violent woman. I can work with that.” He muttered the last part to himself, hand going under his chin to contemplate something.
Another vein popped up at your forehead. “The only one trying to work is me! MEEEE!”
In return, he’d also frown at your words. A vein matching your own popping up his forehead.
“Work, work, work. All you do is work, maybe that’s why you’re so prickly, woman!” He pointed accusingly.
Your lips parted in disbelief. “YOU brought me here to work, why are you getting irritated? And who are you calling prickly!”
Cue another banter followed between you and the duke, while the servants standing by watched you both bemused.
Two maids shared looks between each other, blinking a few times.
“Do we… Do we stop them? Or her at least?”
“No… Just, leave them be.” The older maid sighed, shaking her head at the image of the most feared duke currently acting like an idiot. “I’ve seen this happen four times already yet still cannot get used to it.”
When will the duke finally realize why he’s being so clingy?
It’s been four months.
Four months since you were brought to this mansion, working day and night to reverse whatever spell he’s convinced you have on him.
You don’t care anymore if his claims are true or not, just working to figure out whatever the hell he was complaining about and cure him.
And you were sure that at some point, he’d realize that you weren’t behind anything. Maybe grow tired of you and have an ounce of mercy to let you go eventually. Or by a silver of luck, you might finally find a working antidote that will do the job instead.
But no. The man’s very stubborn, and he was adamant on keeping you chained to his mansion.
And luck wasn’t on your side either, no antidote working so far in curing this mental illness of his.
“How much longer…” You sniffled, curling up your knees to your chest.
Rarely did you have any time to yourself without the duke by your side. Though, whenever you did, you’d quietly curse him (not literally) to empty some of your frustration.
Other times you’d cry from loneliness. Just like right now, heart swelling in longing.
It’s been months since the last time you’ve been outside. Oh how you miss the strolls you’d take in forests, collecting herbs for your potions, talking with other fellow witches, and most importantly…
“Money!”
When was the last time you’ve smelled the sweet unmistakable scent of gold coins? Four months!!!
This heartless duke’s been keeping you under his thumb without any compensation or proper employment. You’ve been basically working underneath him for free, all labor and no reward.
“Damn you, duke…!” You mumbled, burying your face further between your arms.
“Witch!” An annoying voice echoed in the hallway, halting your sniffs. Followed by the undeniable footsteps you’ve grown accustomed to, belonging to no one else but the duke.
Dang it, he finished sword training early today. You scramble off the floor quickly to find a new hiding place further from here.
Maybe the servant’s kitchen area will work—
Slam, the door opened. Revealing the duke at the doorway, water still clinging to his hair from the rushed shower he’d taken. All to find you quicker.
“Witch, I’ve been looking for you everywhere—“ His words die out once your eyes meet his own, still glossy and with cheeks tear-stained.
A sniff escaped you before you could even greet him, confirming the man’s dread that you were indeed crying.
“You… What happened to you?” He crossed the room in seconds, leaning to take a closer look at you.
“What? Nothing!” You looked away, realizing the mess your face must look like right now. You’d rather die than ever show this man a vulnerable sight, though you’ve showed that sight to him a few times at the start…
“Nothing?” He frowned, stepping closer with a stomp. “Your eyes are puffy and red from crying yet you still dare lie to my face?”
You still didn’t face him, his lips drawing a firm line at the avoidance of your gaze.
“Duke, you should go dry your hair first. Or you’ll catch a cold.” You gritted out, the last part more of a threat than a worry for his wellbeing, the urge to curse him for real this time emerged.
“Are you changing the subject? Do not test my patience and explain.” His words seemed desperate, angry and frustrated for a reason you did not care enough to understand.
“It’s none of your concern, Your Highness.”
Can he not get a hint? You just really wanted to be alone right now, from him especially.
“…”
The man did not budge, though his gaze lowered a little in contemplation.
Your words had irked him, none of his concern? How ridiculous.
You lived under his roof, ate the food he provided, and spent every waking hour in his manor… Whose concern would it be if not his?
“It does concern me, actually. Now tell me, what… caused this?” He pointed awkwardly, unsure of how to address the state he found you in. And comfort was a subject he was not familiar with at all.
“I said, nothing.” You repeated, but it did nothing to convince him.
“…Was it someone?” He frowned, changing the question into a “‘who’ did this” instead. That earned a scoff from you, giving him the wrong impression.
“Someone from the staff? One of the guards who harmed you? Give me names, now.” He ordered, hands crossed in front of him as he awaited a hit-list to be given. If only he knew the first name on that list was his own…
“No, and no. They did nothing wrong, don’t accuse innocent people!”
“Then was it the gardeners? Just tell me which bastard was it, I’ll have their heads rolling in minutes—“
“AGH! It’s no one, okay?” You covered your ears at the violent words he was spewing, enough to draw a disturbingly graphic image in your mind that had you feeling queasy.
Still getting no answer from you, the man’s lips turned into a straight line again.
“…You’re my employee, so I have the right to know what has you slacking off work.”
You broke whatever personal rule of not showing him your face, turning around with a whiplash at his words.
Because this was exactly what you’ve been tearing about earlier. How dare he bring that up so naturally without any shame!
“Employee? Me? Since WHEN?” You threw your arms open in outrage, utterly offended by his words.
He just stood there confused. His crossed arms falling limply to the side.
You were sad, terribly. And he was just twisting the knife at the wound that had you down. “I am an undocumented slave at your hands! And slavery was banned years ago, you stupid Duke!”
He raised a finger to speak, lips parting to get a word out, but you weren’t done yet.
“Listen, we’re in a modern society now. There’s nothing wrong with seeking a therapist! Mental health is important, ya know?”
It’s been on your mind for a while, a suggestion you were about to bring up naturally had he not forced you into this conversation.
Seriously, the ‘love potion’ you brewed months ago must’ve already passed his system. And with little to no information about his symptoms, you had no idea what to do anymore.
You sighed pitifully, the man getting more confused by the second.
“I mean, like… Maybe you should seek a different method of treatment, yeah?”
He did not answer, pushing you into speaking further.
“I think it’s about time you let me go—“
Your words don’t even get to finish before two rough hands latched onto your shoulders, making you wince.
“No. You… What kind of suggestion is that?” His voice wavered, before he gruffly voiced the very thing he hated to presume you were saying. “You dare try to leave?”
The way he said that had you glance up at him in confusion. His eyes stared back dilated, and the hands on your shoulders gripped harder, attempting to squeeze out an answer from you.
“You’re the one who cursed me, and you’ll stay right here till the curse gets reversed. Until then, I won’t let you go.”
His frown twisted further, just the thought of you leaving making him sick.
…Oh. Your lips formed a small circle, parted helplessly without any words to respond back.
You’d been too comfortable lately. Too confident in the fact that he’d never try to hurt you, and you’d completely forgotten about his true image as a feared duke.
But now you weren’t sure anymore, that confidence you had which allowed you to speak freely weighed down on you belated.
Damn it, and you’d just called him a stupid duke earlier.
It reminded you once again that you were only here because of a misunderstanding—breathing and alive because the man genuinely thinks you’ve cursed him.
You didn’t dare break eye contact, his red eyes never allowing you a glance away, and it had your fear skyrocket at once. All that sass you’ve shown so far swallowed deep in your throat.
But then you felt it. Beneath your own shaking shoulders were the tremors of someone else. Him.
The fingertips of his hands—still gripped uncomfortably on your shoulders—were trembling.
“…”
What was he afraid of…? You dared not voice out your question, continuing to stare back at him in a frozen state.
The excruciatingly long silence finally broke when the duke spoke first.
“…So it’s just about the employment? Is that why you’re upset?” His voice came out softer than before, the frown on his lips easing a bit into a straight line.
You slowly nodded, no use in denying it with him holding you hostage between his arms.
Though you weren’t sure who was the hostage anymore. The way he looked at you wasn’t that of a man holding someone captive, but one who had become captive himself.
“…Very well.” His answer came after another pause. “I’ll have a proper employment contract drafted in no time.”
You blinked up at him a few times. This easily?
“Really?”
“Mhm.” He nodded, the grip on your shoulders relaxing at the glint in your eyes.
“And… I’ll get paid?” You asked, just to double check.
“Obviously.”
You squint at him for a long moment, trying to see what was the catch.
“…You’re actually agreeing?”
His brows furrowed, lips pulling down a bit at your distrust.
“You’ve only made one request so far. Continue.” He nodded curtly for more.
Permission was all you needed, not waiting any longer to ask.
“Then I want weekends off.”
“Granted.” His hands left to cross in front of him, satisfied at your compliance.
“…With paid leave.”
“Done.” Suddenly, a steward stood beside him noting down everything with a flick from the duke’s finger. (…Since when had there been a steward in here?)
“…Lunch breaks.”
“Alright.” He nodded with his chin, the steward working double to keep up everything.
“Plus monthly bonuses!” You pointed with a finger enthusiastically.
“If your performance is satisfactory.”
Your jaw nearly hit the floor, but one last request still needed to be made.
“Oh! And—“ You cleared your throat, hiding a smirk behind your hand.
His foot tapped impatiently. “What else?”
You couldn’t forget the most important one of all.
“I want my own bedroom.”
A moment of silence from everyone in the room took place.
One maid quietly covered another servant’s mouth before he could laugh.
Even the steward stopped writing.
The guards suddenly found the opposite wall incredibly interesting.
Simultaneously, they all finally remembered you never had a proper bedroom assigned to you. Usually staying up all night working in the duke’s bedroom or sleeping in the servant’s quarters.
“…Done. Guards?”
Everyone relaxed at the duke’s words, you especially.
The agreement brought you great relief, placing a hand over your chest to sigh. Finally, all problems solved—
Until he casually turned to the guards, one hand raised up for the closest to approach him.
“Move the finest bed in the manor beside mine.”
The guard bowed immediately. “At once, Your Grace—“
“NO!” You yelled, pausing the duke in his place to stare confused.
“I said my own bedroom! Bed. Room.” You repeated twice, but the duke only looked back annoyed.
“You will have one, as I just said.” One of his brows raised up, still not getting your point.
“Uhh, yeah? One with four walls and a roof, all to myself!” Your hands moved to draw a box shape midair.
“…”
The duke was quiet then, a hand came up his chin to contemplate something.
“…Three walls and no more.” He held up three fingers, and you stared back at them blankly.
“…A what now?”
“Compromise.”
Haaah, after thirty minutes of negotiating, you ended up being granted everything but the last request.
You mumbled a few incoherent phrases as you signed the employee contract, one that was quickly whipped up and waiting in the hand of the steward.
True to his words, the duke builds a room for you with three walls.
…Located in the corner of his own bedroom.
You were basically roommating with the man, and he dared look satisfied about it.
An infuriating smirk played on his lips as he exited the bathroom, dressed in a silk nightgown heading to his bed.
You face the wall to hide your scowl, listening unintentionally to how the bed rustled from his movement.
He made himself comfortable under the blankets first before finally addressing you out, rather cheerfully.
“I’m going to sleep.” He peeked an eye at your figure, back facing him.
“Congratulations.” You uttered dryly. The flat response visibly irked him, as he called out a moment later to ask.
“…Was that sarcasm?”
You didn’t acknowledge him with more than a hum, annoying him further.
“…Turn off the lights.” He ordered, a frown you couldn’t see was pulling his lips down.
You still don’t reply, just getting up to extinguish the lamp as instructed. Not the response he was awaiting.
“Tch… Don’t you dare leave the room. Got that?”
“Yeah, yeah. Go to sleep now!” You waved him off, kicking the blankets annoyed.
“Good.” He huffed, sounding oddly satisfied despite having run out of excuses to talk.
Silence engulfed the room, the only noise coming from the hooting owls outside and rustling leaves.
You laid on the bed facing the wall, never turning around to see if the duke was doing the same or not.
And just as you were about to fall asleep, a hushed voice called out softly.
“…Good night.” He murmured, never awaiting for you to say it back. Already succumbing to sleep with the soft snores that followed after.
You stilled in this new bed, the frown on your face easing a bit at the awkward gesture.
Though the anger in you still didn’t subside completely, you did feel a toll of it leave you in a sigh.
“…Well,” you pulled the blanket over your head. “At least I’m getting paid to deal with him now.”
You then followed him into dreamland. No other thought lingering in your money-crazed head.
Zzzzzz.
.
..
…
Hmm… But wait, aren’t you forgetting something?
Likeeee reading the employee contract twice before signing?
Or, hey, did you even receive a signed copy of the contract?
Who knows what you just signed away. Maybe you should’ve thought twice about calling yourself ‘a slave’ in this man’s presence.
…
Might’ve just given him ideas.
Tag list: @musicalfan2026 @violetvase @justatimidcreator @aluvrina @dearlyhyeon
nanami waits until your breathing slows a bit before he shifts.
of course - not all at once, just enough to reach the glass of water on the nightstand, careful not to jostle you when you’re still in that half-floaty, half-here state.
the mattress dips a little under his weight, his arm stays wrapped around you the whole time: firm at your waist so you don’t feel like you’re drifting off him.
he brings the glass back, sits up a fraction so your spine is supported against his chest, and places it in your hands.
your fingers close around it - then wobble, he notices immediately.
“…alright,” he murmurs.
his hand comes over yours immediately - steady, long, fingers wrapping around the glass with you - when that’s still not enough, he takes over entirely, lifting it slowly, angling the rim gently to your lips.
“here, sweetheart.” he says quietly. “tell me when to stop.”
you drink in small sips, he pauses exactly when you need a breath, lowers it a fraction when your throat tightens - then raises it again (only when you give an approving nod).
when you’re done, he sets it aside, moving it far enough away that you won’t knock it over later accidentally.
“good,” he says softly, reassuring - then, he reaches for the cloth.
he dips it into the bowl of lukewarm water on the nightstand - after all, when is nanami kento ever not prepared? he wrings it out carefully, tests the temperature against his wrist before bringing it to your bare skin.
“not too warm,” he murmurs.
he starts with careful presses: beginning at your neck and collarbone to wipe away the thin sheen of sweat that’s gathered there from the intensity - then, he moves down to your chest, gently cleaning sticky remnants of his release that have smeared across your skin.
his touch lingers briefly between your thighs, dabbing away the slick mix of your arousal and his cum from your folds and inner legs, ensuring nothing clings to make you uncomfortable as you sleep later.
he cleans as if he’s working - methodical, attentive, quietly thorough - his other hand stays on your hip, grounding you, keeping you oriented when your body still feels a little distant from itself.
“tell me if anything’s sore, alright?” he says quietly.
he continues until he’s satisfied you’re comfortable, not just clean - trailing the cloth along your arms and the back of your thighs to catch any lingering traces of fluids, leaving your skin refreshed and completely at ease.
then he reaches for a dry towel, patting you dry.
“there,” he murmurs. “better.”
then, he ties your hair into a loose ponytail with careful fingers - so it doesn’t stick to your skin.
only after that does he pull the blanket back up around you, tucking it neatly around your shoulders, smoothing it flat.
he settles back around you, arm secure around your waist, your back fitting into the steady line of his chest.
“rest,” he murmurs - you can feel the rise and fall of his breathing. after a moment, he speaks again, voice low.
“your hands will stop shaking in a minute,” he says. “it’s just your nervous system calming down.”
you feel your body finally sink into the mattress, weight settling fully into him - and somewhere between waking and dreaming, you feel a gentle kiss on the crown of your head.
your nerdy fuckbuddy gojo has a tongue piercing?!?
“gojo—“ you said. “pause. stop.” you added, pulling his head up, away from your pussy. normally, you’d never stop him. ever. he pushed his slightly fogged up glasses up the bridge of his nose, and then spoke, his tone quiet and worried. “wh—what’s wrong? did— does it not feel good? a—am i going too fa—“ you shook your head quickly, and then sat up on your forearms.
“no, no, of course not— it’s .. i dunno. something feels.. weird. sort of.. cold.” you spoke, feeling sort of uncertain and deluded. you had never felt this feeling when he ate you out. you grabbed his chin lightly, and then thumbed at his lips. “do you have ice in your mouth or something?” you asked.
“uh—no..? but.. i.. can if you’d like that?” he said, looking up at you with a worried expression on his face. as he spoke, though, you noticed something shining in his mouth. “open your mouth.” you ordered. and he did so. quicker than you’d expected. he stuck his tongue out, and you gasped. “when did you get that?” you said, staring at the metal ball on his tongue.
“um.. a few days ago. i lost a bet with my brother.” he said, scratching his head and looking away, almost like he was embarrassed. “your brother.. the one in the fraternity?” you asked. “that’s the one.” he confirmed. wasn’t too far off from him. you’ve met him before— saturo. the sleazy, disgustingly sexy yet dangerous frat boy. you’d be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t want him.
“hm.” you said quietly. “do you like it?” he whispered, going back down so his nose was level with your cunt. “does it make you feel good?” he said, his breath fanning over the sensitive flesh. he gave you a long, slow lick, from your hole to your clit, not breaking eye contact. “when i got it done,” he said quietly, giving your clit a sweet kiss, and snaking his arms around your thighs to hold you down, so you wouldn’t twitch so much. “i couldn’t stop thinking of you. i was so excited to use it on you..” he murmured against you.
he reached up his hand, dragging his middle finger and ring fingers from your clit, down to circle around your hole, and then finally, inserting them in. he leaned up to you, giving you a sweet kiss on the cheek, then another against your ear as he fingered you. “satoru—“ you moaned, watching as his fingers disappeared in and out of you. you bit your lip, and then he leaned down to capture your lips, wasting no time to use his tongue.
his tongue circled yours, and you moaned at the taste of yourself, and the feeling of his metal on your tongue. “i lost the bet on purpose.” he whispered against your lips. “i overheard you talking about guys with tongue piercings, and..” he said softly, giving your lips a chaste peck, his thumb moving up to work your clit as he fingered you. “i got jealous. jealous that you potentially didn’t have me in mind.” he said, brushing his nose against yours. “i wanted nothing more than for you to experience this. nothing more than for you to use me for as long as you want to.” he said, his tone almost whiny as he pleaded.
A new servant forgets to knock before entering Sukuna’s shared chamber with you.
MDNI. 18+
CW: oral (fem receiving), voyeurism, dom!Sukuna (obvi), manhandling, use of stomach mouth, possession, praise
He was a new servant in the temple, you’d seen him a couple times around. He was sweet, very nervous and shy. Always bowing so suddenly the second he saw either you or your terrifying husband.
It didn’t go past Sukuna, seeing this frail human boy getting all flustered over you.
It was pissing him off.
How you smiled so sweetly, assuring the new servant whenever he messed up. Which was often.
Sukuna currently had you straddling his stomach mouth. Your bare cunt helplessly grinding against his rough tongue while you held onto his shoulders for balance. Sukuna was leaned back against the headboard, his lower hands with a firm grip on your ass, spreading you wider for himself. The remaining arms folded behind his head, eyes half-lidded, with a lazy smirk on his face while he watched you.
“Thereee you go…” he praised, setting your pace on his stomach mouth the way he wanted.
The new servant barely stepped inside before he was another twitch away from shitting himself.
Sukuna didn’t stop his movements, he just glared at the servant—more inconvenienced than anything.
“Did no one teach you to knock?” Sukuna asks plainly.
The servant went pale.
When Sukuna spoke up that’s when you looked behind you to see the servant. Your eyes widened in horror. You try to stop your movements but Sukuna’s grip on you tightens as he increases your speed. You can’t help the whiney moan that leaves your throat.
“Kuna..” you whine, turning your head in embarrassment.
He leans up, his eyes never leaving the servant boy at the doorway, his lips brushing against your ear. “Put on a show for him, pretty. Let him see how good I make you feel.”
He then directs himself to the servant. “Since my wife is too intoxicating to move away from. I’ll give you this one and only warning.” Sukuna tells him with a smirk which quickly turns to a glare. “Leave.”
The servant did not need to be told twice, practically sprinting out of the room, slamming the door behind him.
“Hah—you’re so mean, Kuna…” you tell him breathlessly.
“Mean? That was generous. He’s lucky this cunt is too sweet to move away from~” he growls, his stomach tongue teasing your entrance making you squeak out in surprise.
You were meant to clock out before the trains stopped running.
Kento Nanami x Fem!reader
Smut,non con, sexual assault,cunnilingus,forced orgasm,semi public sex
<- Masterlist
It was the eve of the big launch and you had stayed late voluntarily, though you were already starting to regret putting yourself forward.
You were alone in your office, the night sky had long welcomed you among the stars, threatening your eyes closed no matter how much coffee you drank. You weren’t sure how your colleagues stayed so late daily, living off copious amounts of caffeine and take out, you felt sorry for their bodies, you didn’t doubt they’d fail early in life with poor health.
That’s what this job did, put people in early graves.
You did try and leave, your boss wouldn’t have it though.
Kento Nanami.
He would simply refuse, offer you more money and you would stay, until the process started again and again and again. You were sick of it by now, after the launch at the gallery and the accounts were sorted, you were done.
So done.
A nice holiday would suit nicely. Hawaii or maybe Europe, maybe even Malaysia? You loved flying and never did it nearly enough as you wanted, this job practically banned it. Like your boss would actually give you the time off you were actually entitled to. Fat chance.
The web browser was open on your down time, you gave yourself ten minutes to take a break before your eyes started to ache again. Your bare legs were crossed and on top of the desk, stilettos on the floor with your feet tapping away as you flicked through the travel agency page, making a mental note of prospective destinations. You even had a paid leave entitlement form out on the desk.
The door knocked and you slouched your shoulders. One break, one uninterrupted break was all you wanted. You reluctantly answered and it opened swiftly and then closed. It was your boss.
“Hello Sir.” You rushed to put your legs down under your desk, you caught him taking a brief look.
“I came to see if you were ready with the Gojo account for tomorrow.”
You scrambled at the collection of papers and folders in the drawer by the desk. “Here it is, sir. All balanced and ready to go. Mr Gojo will authorise any payments when he arrives tomorrow.”
The Gojo account was the most prestigious, highest price account with the company, selling and collecting art from the three most lucrative galleries in the entire country, your workplace being one of them. A painting they wanted was being sold tomorrow with an online bidding start price of one million dollars. The gallery was in charge of finalising all payments and storing the artwork until collection. The paperwork to accompany the simple task on the other hand, was far more complex.
Mr Nanami studied the folder and flicked through the pages, he looked exhausted himself, eyes sunken like a black eight ball in the pool pocket, cheek bones pointed in sharp edges. Had he lost weight?
“Good, that will be all for tonight, go and get some sleep, tomorrow will be long and don't forget to dress nice. You’ll be my aide tomorrow night.”
“Yes sir.” You began to tidy your desk, filing papers away to their own like nooks in the opened metal drawer.
“By the way,” he stood in front of the closed door. “I was wondering if you ever considered that drink?’
You’d forgotten, he asked you weeks ago. If you were honest, you thought it was in passing, not an actual request, but it was inappropriate. He was handsome, you couldn’t deny it, but your boss? No, you wanted to see someone outside of work, outside of this hell before you left it.
You didn't want to take it with you afterwards.
“Yeah, um, I don’t really think it’s appropriate, you being my boss.”
“It’s only a drink.”
“I know, I just wouldn’t want anyone thinking or assuming.”
“Assuming what, that we’re fucking? Is that your concern?”
“W-well.” His response totally took you by surprise, you’d never heard him speak in a manner like, you hadn’t even heard him swear before. “I’d rather not, whatever my reasons are, I’ll politely decline. Thank you for the offer, Sir.”
He moved away from the door, taking slow steps, inching his way over to your desk. “I don’t think anyone would assume we were benefiting from each other sexually, in fact I believe no one in the office would care, especially with the launch coming up. Everyone is distracted.”
It made no difference to you whether anyone did or not, you just didn’t want to, and you were frankly quite shocked that someone with his intelligence couldn't take the hint.
“What is this?” He leant on the desk, looking over your shoulder at the web browser. “You’re taking time off? Don’t tell me you’re thinking of leaving me again, are you?”
“I just want to take a vacation, on my own to recoup, it’s been a long month.”
You felt the chair move with the pressure of his hand on the back of it, his other hand took the mouse and started clicking. “Malaysia. A wise choice. I hear Kuantan is nice this time of year.”
You froze while he continued to scroll, his slender finger moving slowly, controlled, purposefully taking time to make you cringe. “Y-yeah. I wanted to travel solo.”
“Everything's better when you’re with someone.” He said looking down at you. “It’s much more interesting when there's another body involved, especially in a foreign country.”
“Right. I’m still in two minds, but I’ll need authorisation from you before I can book anything.” You tried to move your chair ever so slightly, thinking he wouldn't notice, but he did.
His foot was in the way of one of the wheels, keeping you there right within his grasp. “I wonder what our colleagues would say, us being this close.” He didn't look at you, still scrolling away at flights and your personal calendar.
“Sit down.” He commanded you as you tried to stand.
“You, you said I was free to go Sir, I need to get the train before they stop for the night.” The digital clock on the computer screen blinked past midnight, the trains stopped at one o’clock.
“How can you leave if you don't have your stilettos on?” He kelt down and swung the chair around, he was much stronger than he let on because he did it with no issue, there must have been a whole network of muscles under his shirt sleeves.
You flinched, he took the heel of one foot, picked up a stiletto and slid it on so painstakingly slow, it frustrated you. “I can put them on myself.”
The other stiletto was moved from your reach, and when you pulled your foot away, he squeezed and kept it there making you hiss in the process.
“What sort of boss would I be if I let you put these on all by yourself?” He slipped your other foot in, his touch lingering more than was absolutely necessary. “A perfect fit. You always did look great in these ones, my favourite pair actually.”
“I really must go. This is inappropriate, HR would-"
"HR would do what?”
The pause, a brief moment there that was far louder than anything you had ever heard, your pulse rang in your ears as you tried so hard to find words to respond. What would HR do? probably nothing, just ignore it and let it escalate.
He still blocked your path, you still couldn’t stand, not without bumping into him. Your personal calendar was up. “You have a date soon, it’s on your personal calendar, like you're rubbing it in. I wonder. Will you’ll wear that dress you wore for the christmas party? Red always did look good on you.”
“Sir-”
The door knocked, breaking your attention for just a moment, a second. Mr Nanami had climbed under your desk in that second and pulled your chair into him.
You seethed at him from under there. “ Sir what are you-”
He pulled you in, holding you there in the seat, scooting your ass forward and holding your legs on his shoulders. What felt like a finger hooked your panties to the side and clamped you into place.
You growled at him, trying to pry his fingers off of you. “Get off of me!”
The door knocked again, louder than before. “One second!”
No matter how much you pushed away, he kept you still, like a statue forever inclined to remain where you were. Until you pushed the desk away from you instead, he grabbed your wrists and squeezed.
“I’d answer the door and act like nothing was going on if you don’t want to be seen as a whore. Just a piece of advice.” He pulled you in again, and kept you there.
Shit, shit, shit.
“Come in- fuck.”
That was his tongue, definitely his tongue lapping at your exposed cunt, slow motions, licking a deranged lollipop under the desk to distract you and you could do nothing about it.
“Ijichi.”
“Hello Miss. You haven't seen Mr Nanami anywhere have you?”
“N-no I haven't, I was just about to leave actually.”
What the hell were you supposed to say? The companies boss was eating you out like an entitled asshole, right under the desk the massive pervert, if anyone wanted him they would just need to get down on all fours. Yeah that was a logical answer.
“Oh right, would you like me to accompany you to the train station? It’s very late.”
Mr Nanami’s fingers rolled the fat of your ass and pinched the skin hard, you tried to suppress the squeal that came from your lips, but it was too late.
“Are you alright Miss?”
“Yep; Yes I’m okay. No, I won't need assistance, Ijichi. Thank you.”
His tongue swirled on your clit, changing direction, you were sure your skin was already starting to bruise against the pressure of his fingertips. Shit, you couldn’t believe you were in this position, how the fuck did you ever even get into this?
Holy fuck.
His tongue lapped you up, the warm muscle moving strong with purpose, faster than before. He was trying to make you come with Ijichi in the room, like he knew your body already, learning quickly to finish you off.
Ijichi gave you a quizzical look, he must have known for sure where Mr Nanami was, head between your legs and trying his hardest to make you an exhibitionist. If he did know, he didn't say and he never gave anything else away apart from the look on his face.
“If you see Mr Nanami, can you let him know that I have the results for the projected expenditures for the Zenin account tomorrow versus their budget?”
“Y-yes of course I will. As soon as I see him.” You said that with the reminder of his hair tickling your thighs as you could feel an orgasm approaching because of pure clitoral stimulation.
“Thank you, I’ll have his car ready for him whenever he's ready too. Have a good night Miss.” It was like Ijichi was speaking directly to your boss under the table.
When he left, you were on the verge of orgasm, building up a highrise tower block ready to crumble, threatening to do so with another person in the room. But he left just in time.
Breathing a sigh of relief only made that orgasm approach faster, Mr Nanami still held you in place and sucked, making your pussy throb, tipping you over and making you come.
“Mr Nanami please stop. Please don’t- oh my god.”
Covering your mouth to hide your moan didn’t work, the pull in your stomach was unlike anything you experienced in a while, totally throwing you off. You left teeth marks and indentations in your finger, the knuckle throbbed, rashing red and purple from disrupted blood flow.
The chair moved, but you didn’t, Mr Nanami wiped his mouth. “You did better than I thought you would, tasted like I knew you would. Shame Ijichi didn’t get to see your face, I’d love to have seen it. But I guess I’m also glad he didn’t, because I want to be the first.”
You were exposed and on show, totally vulnerable and he left you that way, getting up and smoothing down his suit, adjusting his tie. “Dress pretty tomorrow and maybe I’ll consider letting you take a vacation, maybe I’ll take you somewhere myself if you’re good and behave.”
Nothing he said stuck, flying through your head in one ear and out of the other, still coming down from a high you never expected to get inside your cramped little office.
Turning the chair to face him, he leant in, towering over you with a hand on either side. “That date you’re planning to see on friday, cancel it. You won’t need him anymore.”
Then he left by the closed office door, but not before stopping once more to look at you, wet and stimulated. “See you at eight tomorrow. Don’t be late.”
Part 1 <- -> Part 2
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Synopsis: You’re a witch known for making love potions. They're fake. The reviews are real. Your track record? Immaculate. Until a duke walks in, covered in blood, and demands you reverse the spell you cast on him.
You didn't cast anything.
He doesn't care.
And now you live in his mansion.
Love Potion or Love at First Sight?
"Are you sure this is it?"
"Yes yes! This is the love potion. Now pay up or leave because I have other customers to attend to!"
You groan at the woman hesitating in front of you, wasting your time.
You're an infamous witch known in the black market for selling all types of spells and potions for a hefty sum.
Your most popular item? The love potion.
Which is actually just… an aphrodisiac.
But after selling 170 potions? You've only ever received positive reviews. All from noblewomen, lovestruck and happy with the results.
What can you say? You've always known men to be lustful creatures, barren from emotions. After selling a 170 with zero bad reviews? Your ideology is proven correct.
"Are you sure it works?" the woman whispers.
"100% customer satisfaction guaranteed!"
She still looks nervous.
"And if it doesn't work, you can come back and I'll give double your money back as refund."
The woman nods, pays with a pouch of gold coins, then leaves.
Another positive review, you think to yourself confidently, already marking this as your 171st success.
…
You just didn’t expect your first bad review to appear right in front of your face.
The door slams open.
A man stands in your doorway. With black hair and red eyes; blood plastered across his face, clothes, and most importantly his sword.
"So," The bloody man starts, one hand going up to wipe some blood off his face. “You're the witch selling cheap love elixirs all over the market?”
You don’t answer, your hand sliding toward the defense charm under your counter instead.
Because this wasn’t just any man, this was the war-crazed duke feared by all of society.
"You better pay for this."
…Guess you'll be closing the shop for a while.
___________
And… you've been working at his mansion ever since.
Tasked with reversing whatever spell you supposedly casted on him. Despite all your protests, swearing up and down that you never did anything.
He doesn't believe you.
He won't believe you.
Because how else do you explain what he felt when he walked into your shop? That made his sword hand waver and his heart stutter, and his threats turn into something softer?
Obviously, you’ve cursed him. There was no need to investigate this any further, nor did he feel the need to tell you about all these symptoms.
So now you're stuck in a massive estate with a madman who thinks you cursed him, brewing antidote after antidote, watching nothing work.
You could only curse that woman, muttering bitter insults under your breath.
The one who bought the potion and slipped it to him. The one who left you with this mess and then promptly left this world, if the blood on his sword was any indication.
Damn her.
What the hell did she see in this man anyway?
Because here's the thing you're learning, piece by piece. The duke? He's not just some nobleman. He's the nobleman. The one everyone whispers about, who keeps a dungeon beneath the east wing and a graveyard in the west garden. (Allegedly.)
The madman of high society.
If only you'd known he was the target that woman was after, you would've never sold her that potion. Never agreed to the commission or opened your stupid mouth about the satisfaction guarantee!!
But you didn't know.
And now you're stuck with the aftermath…
___________
At first, the madman kept you confined to a workspace somewhere within the mansion.
Close enough to monitor. Far enough to ignore.
Then, he started calling for you more often. Checking on your progress. Standing just a little too close while you worked. Watching you with scrutinizing red eyes.
And then, he started sticking around you 24/7, following you from room to room like some clingy puppy who couldn't bear for you to leave his sight.
Even that wasn’t enough. At some point, you stopped being assigned a room at all.
Wherever he was… that became your workspace.
You’d turn around and he’d be there.
In the doorway. Behind you. Leaning against the wall like he’d been there the whole time.
Like he had nowhere else to be. Don’t dukes have better things to do? Go tend to your paperwork or something!!
Through it all, he's never kind. Still angry, demanding, and barking orders about reversing the damn spell.
But he never hurts you.
His threats are loud. And his hands are rough, just like his voice that could shatter glass.
But you've started to notice something.
He always stops. It’s all bark but no bite…
And it becomes a routine.
You work. He watches. You brew. He hovers. You try to leave. He blocks the door.
At some point, he has you working in his bedroom.
No, like, actually. He stooped to this level of stupidity, needing allowing you to stay in his chambers at night.
He's sleeping on the bed and you have to sit beside him. On the floor. With your books and your herbs and your constantly dying patience.
You don't know when this became normal.
You hate that it feels normal.
__________
Tonight, you try to get up.
His hand immediately shoots out to grab your wrist.
"Where do you think you're going?"
You don't flinch anymore. The first few times, you did. Now? You just sigh.
"I'm trying to study for a reverse spell. Or a cure. For you, remember?"
"Stay."
His voice is flat. Unreasonable. Like he's not even considering the possibility of you leaving.
"I can't work if I'm stuck by your side, Your Grace."
"Leave and I'll rip your throat out."
You've heard this before. It had you frozen and crying the first few times, but then you realized…
He never follows through.
Not with you.
"Your Grace," you say, calm as anything, "you can't do that. Who will reverse your spell if not the caster?"
His jaw tightens, though the grip on your wrist doesn't loosen.
But he knows you're right.
He's quiet for a long moment, thinking. And you can see the exact second he shifts tactics.
"Then I'll slit the throats of all the guards outside who allow you to leave this room."
"…I'm sat."
You sit back down on the floor. Head leaning against the bed where his hand lingers limbly. Sometimes brushing your hair unconsciously, like it was to make sure you were still there.
And you work on the spell in his chambers all night long. Barely getting a blink of sleep.
He, on the other hand?
Dead to the world.
The madman who threatened to rip your throat out twenty minutes ago is now curled up on his ridiculous silk sheets, snoring softly.
His face is slack and peaceful. Innocent in a way that makes you want to throw a pillow at his head.
You've noticed this before. The way his eyes get heavy when you're nearby, how his shoulders drop when you enter the room. And the way his threats get lazier the longer you stay.
At first, you thought it was the potion's side effects.
Now you're starting to think he just… can't sleep without you.
Which is not your problem. You didn't sign up to be a nobleman's sleeping charm. You're a witch. A busy one! One who is currently being held against her will in a mansion that smells too much like old money and fresh blood.
And yet… Here you are, watching him sleep.
Because if you move, he wakes up. And if he wakes up, he gets grumpy. And if he gets grumpy, he threatens to kill someone.
Usually the guards.
You've started to feel kind of bad for the guards.
"I hope you wake up with a stiff neck," you mutter, dipping your quill in ink. "I hope you stub your toes when you wake up. I hope your breakfast is cold and your tea is bitter and your horse steps on your foot."
His lips curl up softly. Like you're singing him a lullaby.
Your quill scratches to a halt.
"…I hope you dream about spiders," you try, weaker this time.
His smile deepens.
He doesn't wake up. He just… rests. Still peaceful and content. Like your curses are the sweetest words he's ever heard.
You stare at him.
Then you look down at your notes, page full of failed antidotes and useless counter-spells. A truth you’ve been avoiding for a while manifests to the surface of your mind once again.
Nothing is wrong with him.
The potion didn't work.
He's just like this.
You set down the quill to press your palms to your eyes.
And wonder, for the thousandth time, what in the hell you did to deserve this.
Maybe its time you suggest a psychiatrist.
___________
Little did both of you know.
The potion didn't work on him.
It never could have. Years of assassination attempts had made his body resistant to poisons, potions, drugs… Basically anything ingested.
The drink that woman slipped him? It passed through his system like water. Barely a flicker of discomfort, a vague pulling in his chest that he dismissed as irritation.
He came to your shop that day ready to kill the witch who made it.
Not because the potion had affected him. But because he was annoyed.
Someone had tried to enchant him. Someone had failed. And he wanted to make an example of the person responsible.
Until he saw you.
And something in his chest pulled again.
Not the potion, that was already gone.
Something else he didn’t have a name for.
He still doesn't have a name for it. He calls it a curse. A spell. Your fault.
…
It's not.
He was just love-struck at first sight.
And he's been falling harder and harder with each day that passes.
Deep in his sleep, one thought surfaces in his mind.
This vacation was all about you and doing things you’ve never done before. Including joining the mile high club. You let yourself be as greedy as you want before returning back to regular life. But what will happen to you when your Vacation Fling finally decides to start acting greedy back and doesn’t want the bliss to end?
Here you were, your first vacation in years. Walking down the aisle of the plane was bittersweet but you were already on your layover flight so there was no turning back now. Finally you were actually treating yourself for a change. Usually you were so busy working yourself to the bone, trying to get somewhere in your career or taking care of what others were too incompetent to do.
Now it was your turn. It took a lot of convincing and you could think of a million reasons right now to turn around anyway and go home. But there was the most important reason that was enough to make you stay.
Like the hot guy who had the window seat.
When he spotted you his whole face lit up. Actually lit up. Like the boring plane ride he was expecting just got a hell of a lot more interesting. Before you could even say anything he was already standing up and offering his seat to you, exchanging it with your middle seat. Almost as if he knew this was your first trip in a long time.
“Thank you so much, I haven’t flown in a long time, the view will be so nice,” you admit with a sigh of relief. The charming man beside you grins, turning to face you and effectively blocking off your view of anyone else.
“Then that’s all the more reason to treat yourself,” he expresses and your eyes widen in awe. It’s like he’s reading your mind.
A strange sensation presses at your chest as you two keep on talking. You get the weird feeling that fate or destiny is playing its hand here. As though the universe itself is trying to give you the best vacation possible.
There was just something about Yandere!Vacation Fling that drew you in. He carried the conversation like a pro but always brought it back to you, to learn more about you. As much as he could. And he was funny too.
Not even an hour in and your stomach hurt from laughing so much. Slowly without fully realizing it you both were leaning in closer to each other. Sucked in and needing.
So you took the jump and just said it.
“Meet me in the bathroom in five minutes. Knock twice,” you whisper with a special glint in your eyes. His lips part but he doesn’t get the chance to say a thing before you push past him and rush to the bathroom to wait for him.
Five minutes later on the dot, the second he walks in to the bathroom you’re on each other, tearing off the other’s pants because all that mattered was undressing enough to reach what you needed. It took all your balance to not fall down as he hooks your leg over his hip and drives in as far as he can go on one thrust.
He silences you with a kiss when you cry out at the stretch of his girth pushing on your walls, stimulating all of your nerves in the best way. Working in deeper with each rocking of his hips to really drown in you.
By the time he finally bottoms out you two are already fucking, hips jerking wildly to take more of his cock, to feel that delicious friction buzzing through your veins. Your nails claw down his rippling muscular arms, ironically feeling like you’re flying higher than you already are. The repeated movement of your body slapping against the wall of the bathroom made your walls twitch and tremble around him, desperate for him to fuck you harder.
Your head falls back in bliss, breaking the kiss. But Yan!Vacation Fling can’t get enough of you. His lips trail down your jaw, every coordinated attack on your core and press of his lips brought you closer and closer to release. Each sensation blasting into the next.
Then just as he slams in again his teeth sink into the soft flesh of your throat, making you reach that peak instantly. Without you or your body being ready for it.
Of course he fucks you through every wave, drawing out your pleasure till you were almost ready to go all over again. The overstimulation revving you up. Overall you barely did get to see that view. But it was more than worth it.
At the end of the flight you said your goodbyes to him. Sure, you were flying to the same place but there was no chance you’d actually see each other around, it was a big place and he could be going anywhere! Until a couple hours later when you come down to the resort bar and nearly run right into him.
For the rest of the trip you two are fused at the hip. Yan!Vacation Fling makes every moment a thing to remember. Each one more romantic than the last. He spoils you constantly, never letting you pay for a damn thing.
While also taking you out to do every activity you’ve always dreamed of. Never failing to buy out whole venues just so he can get you alone and make sure no one gets to see your happiness but him.
Plus the sex was out of this world. You two were fucking like rabbits on every surface available. Taking each other in both your rooms, the bathrooms, hallways, entertainment room, pool, beach, and anywhere else you could think of and get away with.
He always fucks you like a feral beast finally snapping. As if he’s waited too long for this and his patience is worn too thin. His hands grip you, mark you, and claim you like you’re a trophy already won.
Feeling all of you and ensuring you feel him in return. Wanting you to choke on his dick and memorize the shake of it within you so that no other man can ever satisfy you again.
When your vacation is unfortunately over you almost wish you could just quit your job, forget your life, and stay here. With him. But that’s silly and unrealistic. You love your life.
Really the worst part was having to leave Yan!Vacation Fling. You two promised to keep in touch but these situations always fizzle out eventually. You were certain that this time you’d really never see him again.
Then two weeks later, back at that job you hate, you see him walk right in and stare you down. Relief passing through his expression like he’s finally gotten back to you after a lot of hardship. Except you never told him where you work. At first you figure fate is playing its tricky hand again. Seeing him again, here, lit up a fire inside of you.
You only make it to the closest empty room before you were on each other again. You couldn’t believe this was happening. But you didn’t care. All you want is to feel like you’re back on vacation again.
And as he sinks his long thick cock back inside your heat, bent over and pressed against a window where anyone could see you, you actually did. That same euphoria returning with every hard brutal thrust. Quickly losing yourself in him, in that headspace, and you craved it.
“Oooh ffuck— nngh— you have no idea how long it took to find you,” he moans shamelessly as he buries his face into your neck, his pace picking up, needing to make sure he’s never separated from you again.
Faintly red alarms blare in your head, body tensing as you register his words. You had never told him where you lived beyond the state, never sharing anything that could help you be found. Yet he found you anyway. The fog in your mind is fighting against your thoughts as you both keep moving.
Then he swivels his hips, aiming his cockhead to smash against that special spot inside of you with every snap of his hips. All your thoughts melt away at the pleasure that spikes through your frame. And you let him use you like a slutty little joke to drag up and down his length to fuck.
“Didn’t think you’d actually leave,” he admits with a breathless laugh that fades into a grunt. “But I’ve got you now. You’ll be back inside paradise soon. For now let me enjoy my paradise.”
Hours pass like this, all worry about work or anything about your old life fading into nothingness as his shaft drills inside your hole, making a home there. Milking orgasm after orgasm out of your increasingly tired and spent form. Your head growing lighter and your body heavier the more times you convulse and jerk in his embrace.
He always works you through each powerful wave. But just when it seems he’ll stop and give you a moment to breathe and collect your thoughts about him being here he starts up again. Whispering words of you being his. How you’ll be happy with him in paradise, no one else around to bother you. He’ll take care of everything.
“There we go, you’re ready now. When you wake up it’ll all be better,” he purrs as your eyes flutter shut. That last orgasm taking the last of your energy as you fall into a deep dreamless sleep.
Synopsis: You are one of the few people in the world without a soulmate. When your friend finally meets hers, you give her the brightest smile, pretending not to feel that ache in your chest. But her soulmate is a bit strange, and you feel like you're the only one who notices.
(Warnings: yandere, dark content, manipulation, infidelity, rape/noncon, afab reader, tw selfharm(not done to mc))
Unmei was your best friend in the entire world.
You met her when you two were still learning to read and write. You were neighbors, classmates, practically attached at the hip. There was a running joke in the neighborhood that you two were sisters in a past life.
She was with you on the night of your 13th birthday, when not a single name scrawled itself in black ink on your wrist.
You’d cried for days. All you’d ever wanted was a soulmate. Finding out the universe decided you didn’t deserve one was heart crushing.
Back then, Unmei looked at her own soulmark with disgust.
“Well, if you don’t have one, then I don’t want a soulmate, either.” She’d declared with a large grin, wiping away your tears. “Besides, Geto Suguru is a stupid name, anyway.”
Even back then, you knew it was a joke. Not a promise. She just wanted you to cheer up. She wasn’t agreeing to be a spinster with you.
Still, when she called you with the news, something broke within you.
“-He’s great! He’s so great!” Her voice crackles through the phone. “I’ve never met someone so kind and gentle. And his face! He’s so handsome. It was love at first sight.”
She excitedly tells you how they met, how he’d tapped her shoulder in the library, asking if she knew where to find a book. She’d only seen a glimpse of his badge, his name, and then the rest was history.
The more she talks, the more you sink. You could almost imagine what she looked like as she spoke. Her cheeks would glow with a warm pink. There would be a sparkle in her eye that makes her look younger. It was so selfish of you to drown in misery when she’s so happy. She’s your closest friend. She deserves better than someone so jaded.
You’re glad she isn’t here in person. You don’t want her to see how bitter you feel.
You close the hole in your heart with cement and faux delight.
“He sounds great,” you hear yourself say.
“When can I meet him?”
❤︎
You’ve never seen someone so tall before.
He wasn’t dressed to stand out. The simple, black coat drapes perfectly against his lean figure. His hair is coiled into an elegant bun, showcasing his neck and black earrings. His face is sharp and edged with beauty.
Unmei tugs him over, looking at him with bright, glimmering eyes. Love. You can see the truth stamped right on her face.
She slides into the seat across from you. He mirrors her. The whispers and noises within the cafe hush their voices a bit.
And yet, you can hear his voice clearly. Low and gentle.
“Did I say it right?” Geto asks right after he says your name. “I’ve heard a lot about you.” Unmei flushes.
You spot the expensive watch hanging off his wrist as he reaches over to shake your hand.
“It’s nice to meet you,” he says.
“Change,” his purple eyes murmur, “the end of it all.”
The next hour passes with small talk and introductions. Unmei is the main talker, with Geto adding something in every so often. They work well together; you quietly observe, sipping on watered-down iced coffee. They fit. Pieces of a puzzle. Made for each other.
They are soulmates, after all.
“-It’s why I wanted you to meet him so bad,” Unmei tells you when you finally tune in again. “You two are so similar! It’d be nice to have all of us hang out sometime.”
“That would be nice.” Geto nods along before directing his gaze at you. “Perhaps you could bring your own soulmate, too.”
Your throat tightens. Unmei blanches. You can sense her about to redirect, but you figure it’s best if you bite the bullet now.
“I don’t have one.” You tell him, forcing your voice to sound light.
It takes a second for people to understand what you’re telling them–that you’re one of those. You wait for Geto to get that shameful look of pity everyone gets the moment you tell them. You’ve spent years like this, but it never stops stinging.
No pity. No sympathy.
He leans forward. His eyes sharpen.
“Really?”
You shrug, avoiding his gaze to sip on your coffee. You can still feel his eyes prickle on your skin even after Unmei changes the conversation.
Hours later, she texts you: sooo what’d you think????
You write exactly what she wants to hear.
He’s perfect for you:)
❤︎
Your second interaction with Geto happens without Unmei.
Some days, you liked to wander: turn your brain off, stroll through random shops, admiring the various knick-knacks you could never justify the price enough to purchase. Today, your feet led you into a small bookstore.
The door alerts to your presence with a cheery jingle. The man at the front spares you a lukewarm smile as you trek into his store. The smell of paper and ink greets your nose. It’s a cozy place. Quiet, a stark contrast to the bustling city just outside.
One of your favorite authors recently published a new book. You weren’t sure if this bookstore had it, but you told yourself it wouldn’t hurt to check. You scanned the rows and shelves, drifting around the store to see if you could spot it.
You were so distracted, you didn’t notice him until you quite literally walked into him.
Hands reach out to steady you. Firm but gentle. You look up as a bundle of apologies is ready to spill from your lips. They die once you look into sharp purple eyes.
Geto smiles when his hands release your shoulders.
“Careful there.”
You reanimate at his voice. You step back, mindful of how close he was.
“Sorry,” you tell him, “I–I didn’t see you.”
“I could tell.” His grin widens, and you sheepishly glance down.
“This is a very welcome coincidence,” he continues, “I didn’t know you liked literature as well.”
You helplessly shrug, trying not to show your discomfort. It wasn’t that you didn’t like Geto. He seemed like a nice person, but you were not ready at all for a one-on-one interaction with your friend’s new boyfriend.
“Yeah,” you say when the silence gets too long, “I was just here to see if I could find something in particular…” Just then, your eyes drift up.
You catch the title just then. It’s sitting quietly on the top shelf, leering at you. If only you’d found it sooner, it seems to goad at you; you wouldn’t be stuck in the most awkward situation in the world.
Geto catches your gaze. He glances up at the book.
“Is that the one?” He asks.
You nod. He reaches up and lifts it from its respective spot. You expect him to hand it over immediately, but he seems more interested in examining the cover.
“That sounds interesting.” He comments before handing it to you. “Would you recommend it?”
“I haven’t read it yet.” You admit. “But I’m a big fan of the author.”
He hums in acknowledgement. That’s when you notice his own stash of books he had tucked under his arm.
“You’re a horror fan?” You ask.
“Not particularly,” he admits. “I just wanted to branch out. My friend is a huge horror fan. These were mostly his recommendations.”
You nod. “Unmei also likes horror. The genre at least.” You blab on. “Back when we were in high school, she’d force me to watch all sorts of slasher movies, and then she’d get so scared she’d beg me to let her sleep over.”
On those days, you’d wake up to her snoring all over your pillows. Later, when you teased her about it, she’d laugh it off with red all over her face.
Those days were tinged with nostalgia–back when it was just you and Unmei.
You expect Geto to appreciate the snapshot of his soulmate’s past. That’s why he’s making small talk with you in the first place, right? To get to know her better.
Something flickers across his eyes. It was barely a moment before his face changed to deep sincerity, but you caught it.
Boredom.
You were stumped. How could someone be so blatantly uninterested in their soulmate? Or maybe it was you he couldn’t care less about? Or perhaps you just imagined it entirely?
You feel like you should confront him about it.
“Sorry,” you say instead, “ I need to head out now.”
“Of course.” He immediately steps aside to let you pass through the cramped shelves.
You expect that to be the end of it, but you can hear his footsteps behind you.
You almost considered abandoning your book entirely, just so you could escape the bookstore. Instead, you flash a tense smile at the cashier, who beams back.
“Find everything okay?” He asks.
“We did,” Geto tells him cheerily. He stands right next to you. You can almost feel the coat he wears brush against your shoulder.
Sometimes you wish you weren’t so nonconfrontational. Maybe you would’ve fought a bit more when Geto casually plucks the book from your loose grip, placing it on top of his own stack.
“All together, please.” He tells the cashier, before he turns to you. “I got it.”
“No, it’s fine.” You’re finally able to speak up. It’s too late. The man is already grabbing the bag and saying his regards to the worker behind the counter. He holds the door open for you.
You meekly thank him.
“I can pay you back.” You immediately say.
Geto shakes his head. “It’s fine. Think of it as a gift.” He hands your book into your twitching hands. “A token to the start of a good friendship.”
You had this bad habit of feeling indebted to someone if they paid for you, to the point where you would bend backwards for them if they asked.
Something tells you that being in that situation with Geto is a terrible idea.
You still accept, thanking him as sincerely as you can.
“That reminds me.” Geto continues, pulling out his phone. “We should exchange contacts. We do share a favorite person after all. It would be wise to keep in touch.” He tells you with a steady grin.
Your stomach flips. You don’t want to. You genuinely don’t want to.
But the book is heavy in your hands.
When Geto offers to walk you to the station, you finally gather the courage to decline. You thank him repeatedly for his kindness, slipping away before he can coax you into doing anything more.
He was nothing but polite to you
Kind even.
But there’s something so horribly wrong about Geto Suguru.
—
Geto and Unmei moved fast.
They became an official couple one week after they met. Two months later, Unmei moved into his place.
They moved fast, as most soulmates do. After all, if two people are destined to be together forever, why wait? Why not get the hard part over with first so you can enjoy forever more?
At least, that’s how you saw it.
The party was subdued but extremely upscale. Geto’s apartment was something else entirely. Luxurious floors with open spaces. When you looked outside the spotless glass, you could see the glimmering lights of the city far beneath your feet.
You felt like you could fall through the glass and crash into those lights. You’d shatter into a million pieces, twinkling like the stars above.
“Would you like another drink?” A voice asks.
You glance up. Nanami Kento’s eyes remain on you. You suddenly remember what you were doing.
You look down at your cup—just water. You were driving home tonight. “I’m fine, but thank you.”
Nanami nods, taking a swing of his own cup. The amber-colored liquid swirled around the glass.
Out of all of Geto’s friends, you think you liked Nanami the most. He was quiet, straightforward, polite, and a complete gentleman. He was one of you, you later found out—someone with un inked wrists. When Unmei dragged him across the room to ‘keep each other company’, you thought it was another one of her schemes.
Well, it definitely still was her scheme, but you didn’t mind it too much. Nanami was good company. He was much more preferable to Geto’s other friend. The tall one with blue eyes and white hair. The one that kept staring at you like he knew something you didn’t.
“So how do you know Geto?” You ask.
His lips thinned. You almost smile.
“Old classmates.” He tells you. “He, along with a couple of others, was in the grade above me.”
He seemed exhausted even thinking about it. You wonder how wild his upper-level students were.
“What about you and Unmei?” He asks after a bit.
You hide your smile behind your glass.
“We were practically raised together.” You start. “Attached at the hip, ever since we were kids.”
You two used to plan your weddings together. She wanted her kid to marry yours. Every day you were at each other’s houses. Every weekend was slumber parties and sleepovers.
When kids used to mock you for not having a name, she was the one who defended you. She was the one who chased off bullies and wiped away your tears.
She’s been in your life all your life. You can’t remember a time she wasn’t.
“Hm,” Nanami comments, “you two sound close.”
“We are,” you agree, even when you can taste the uncertainty on your tongue.
She stood a little way away. Unmei looked borderline unrecognizable from the one you knew just a few months ago. Her hair was pushed up from her face, a stark contrast to the looser hairstyles she used to prefer. Her dress was sleek and glamorous. She probably wore hundreds of dollars on her wrist. She blended right into the elite group she was currently laughing with.
Nanami keeps talking about something. You hum along, unable to take your eyes off of her. You keep watching until you can’t anymore.
Sometime later, you find yourself on the balcony. The murmur of the crowd has dwindled behind you. It’s cold, you didn’t bring a jacket. There are goosebumps littered across your arms, but you don’t want to go inside yet. You’re not sure if you can continue looking at Unmei as she changes into something you can’t reach anymore.
There it was again. That bitterness. The guilt washes it down all over again.
Footsteps. Someone takes their place right next to you. At first, you think it’s Nanami’s attempt to restart the conversation.
Geto leans over the railing, watching the city below.
“It’s a pretty view, isn’t it?” He asks, voice gentle and soft. “It’s a huge reason why I bought this place.”
You flex your fingers. The air suddenly gets colder.
“Yeah.” You give, listening to the muted sounds inside. “It’s beautiful.”
That’s the truth. The city lights twinkled and buzzed with life. Part of you wanted to sit there and count each one. You might be stuck there for years.
“It’s even more beautiful in the mornings,” Geto continues, “there’s a gentle fog that covers the city, and the horizon is this pale pink. I really hope you see it one day.”
You shift, a bit uncomfortable by the confession. You’re sure he doesn’t mean anything by it.
“You have a lovely home.” You finally say. “It’s very beautiful. I’m sure you're ecstatic to share this with Unmei.”
A genuine smile lifts your face as you think back to the times Unmei gushed about meeting her future soulmate. She’d planned everything: the house, the car, the dog. You’d sat there quietly, listening, just happy to be in her life.
“I bet you must have waited years to finally meet her.” You tell Geto as you admire the view. “You’re a very lucky man.”
You expect a laugh. You expect a bashful acceptance.
“I never wanted to meet my soulmate, initially.”
For the first time in the conversation, you truly look at Geto. He’s staring right back. His purple eyes are darker in the dim lighting. They’re almost a muddy brown.
“When I was younger, I had a grim opinion of soulmates.” His jaw tenses. You catch the movement. “The idea of having someone I was tied to by fate used to sicken me. It felt like control. It felt like something cosmic wrote out my future, and I was entirely helpless to it.”
You can’t pull your eyes away. Whatever you were hearing, no matter how jarring, felt honest. You were drawn to it–a bee to a flower.
“I think now, I’ve mostly changed my mind.” He shrugs. “The bond isn’t truly control. Rather, it’s a path, guiding us to something far more desirable.”
You blink. What could you say to that?
Thankfully, Geto doesn’t let you fluster for long. He steps ever so slightly closer. It’s already too close, but you can’t move. You’re stuck in your spot. Paralyzed.
“And, if anything.” He leans down, voice suddenly hushed. “I’d consider you the lucky one.”
“Me?”
He smiles. Amusement laces his lips. Long fingers reach for your arm. He slowly turns your hand, showing your blank, un-inked wrist.
“Yes,” he tells you, “this is truly lucky.”
You see it then. It flashes right across his purple eyes.
Jealousy.
It’s so hateful, it nearly makes you panic. You stumble back, out of his hold. The meeker part of you urges you to run. As far as you can. Run before–
“Are you alright?”
Concerned sincerity etches across Geto’s face as he reaches out to stabilize you. Hands press on your shoulders before they slip away.
You avert your gaze.
“I’m fine.” It’s too sharp. You force yourself to soften your tone. “I guess it’s a little chilly out.”
Geto barely wastes a moment. He slips off his jacket and settles it onto your shoulders before you can protest. His cologne clings to the leather. The smell of sandalwood and cinnamon.
“Keep it.” He stops you when you try to take it off. “Stay out here and enjoy the view a bit more. It’s truly breathtaking.”
You watch as he slips back inside, playing the perfect host to his guests. The air is still cold, but you can finally breathe again.
Later that night, Suguru gets on one knee and proposes.
Unmei says yes.
❤︎
There’s a way to reject the soul bond. You’ve seen it happen exactly once in your life.
You were fourteen, watching from the stairs as your mom comforted your next-door neighbor. She was one of the unlucky ones. Her soul bond was filled with nothing but rage and possession. You could see the evidence of it on the bruises on her soft skin. The swelling black eye.
She kept mumbling something of how sick she was to be tied to him. How she’d rather have no soulmate than one so vile. Your mother kept hushing her, insisting on calling the police, letting her stay the night.
She’s not listening. It’s like she’s in a trance as she rises on two shaky feet, drifting towards the kitchen. You find yourself following.
She pulls out a knife, and your mother screams when she digs into the ink on her own wrist.
She stopped bleeding before the ambulance arrived. There’s a gigantic smile on her face the entire time she’s talking to the paramedics.
You’ve never seen someone look so free before.
❤︎
Planning a wedding takes time and money. It’s a good thing that Geto is swimming in the latter.
The restaurant is upscale and practically swathed in elites. You feel very much out of place with your dress that probably wasn’t even worth the cheapest thing on the menu. Geto assured you plenty of times that this was his treat. Ever since the proposal, you’d been swamped in wedding preparations. This dinner was supposed to be a thank you.
Tonight is a celebration of two people.
You, the maid of honor.
And Gojo, the best man.
The two of you sat across from the engaged couple. Unmei was beaming the entire night. The ring was glistening on her finger. You’ve seen it all over her social media, not to mention the hours she spent gushing about how perfect the ring and the proposal was.
But you remembered she hated cluster rings. She used to call them tacky. And she’s told you her perfect proposal over and over again. She’s always wanted it somewhere outdoors, where they’re alone and surrounded by nature.
The complete opposite of how Suguru did it.
“I can barely sleep.” Unmei gushes to you while the two men continue their own conversation. “The wedding is still two months away, but I can barely sleep.”
You give her a comforting smile, taking another sip of your water. Dinner was already eaten, but you hadn’t tasted a single thing. It felt like cement sludge down your throat.
“I bet that’s normal,” you say, “It’s your day. You should be excited.”
“Most nights I just dream about flower arrangements.” She frowns before she sits up again. “Shit, the flowers. Please tell me you—“
“Don’t worry, I already booked the florist you were talking to,” you immediately coddle. “Everything is going to be perfect.”
She visibly relaxes, leaning back in her seat. “Only because you’re here.” She tells you. “I only got this far ‘cuz of you, y'know that?”
You smile. Her face brightens.
“Oh!” She exclaims. “Are you planning on bringing anyone? Someone special?”
The two men gradually quieted. You arch your brow.
“Probably not,” you say, “besides I’ll have a lot of stuff to do on the day of. I won’t have time for a date.”
“What about bringing Nanami?” She pipes up. “I’m sure he can entertain himself while you’re busy.”
Someone’s gaze stings your skin. You ignore it.
“Why would I bring him?”
She scoffs.
“Don’t act like that.” She chides. “I saw how into you he was at the party. Please tell me you got his number.”
You did. And you two text every now and then. Non-soulmates are rare, so even if you don’t end up in a relationship, it’s nice to keep in touch.
“Nanami?” Geto echoes, finally making it known that he was eavesdropping.
Unmei turns to him with a smile. “I introduced them a while ago. Aren’t they just perfect for each other?"
‘Is she saying that just because neither of us has soulmates?’ You try not to feel so harshly about it.
Geto smiles, but it lacks any warmth.
Gojo turns to you.
“I didn’t know you met Nanami?” He sports a wide grin. Almost like a sneer.
You shrug. “We talked for a bit sometime back.”
“I feel bad for you. I know I’m not supposed to talk crap about my juniors, but that guy is so boring.” He rolled his eyes. “He was even worse in high school, if you can believe that.”
“I didn’t think he was all that bad.” You counter.
“Ah, I get it.” Gojo nods. “You’re into the quiet, studious type of guy.”
You shift in your seat. “It’s nothing that dramatic.” You respond. “He was just really nice.”
“Hm.” Gojo takes a swing at his glass. “I guess I see wedding bells in your future, then.”
“Satoru.”
Geto’s voice is clipped. His eyes have shadows. Gojo puts his hands up in an ‘I surrender’ motion. There’s a lazy smile on his mouth. The atmosphere is so strained that even Unmei’s smile weakens. You take another sip of your water. You really wish you’d ordered something stronger. You had no idea tonight would be this tense.
Unmei quickly turns the conversation to something else. She brings up more wedding plans. The rest of the night is spent ignoring the elephant in the room.
Sometime after that, you and Gojo end up outside the restaurant, alone. Unmei and Geto are still sorting out the bill. You spot them lingering inside. Unmei is talking animatedly to a waitress. Geto is scrolling on his phone.
You don’t have much in common with Gojo, and you’re happy to keep the silence as the two of you wait. He, however, doesn’t seem to share your thoughts.
He leans over as you watch the engaged couple.
“So, how long do you think they’ll last?”
You glare up at him. He grins.
“That’s not funny.” You immediately rebuff. “Why would you say that?”
Satoru shrugs.
“C’mon, you can’t say you’re the tiniest bit doubtful they’ll stay together, right?”
You shake your head.
“They’re soulmates,” you respond. Their companionship was written in the stars from the start. They are a certainty. “It’s tradition.”
“Soulmates don’t always stay together,” Satoru says, “and Suguru isn’t one for tradition.”
You say nothing. Gojo only takes it as a sign to pester you further.
“Wanna make a bet with me?”
You narrow your eyes at him.
“I’ll bet all the money I have that they’ll break up right before the wedding.” He thinks for a moment. “Maybe on the day of: Suguru loves being dramatic.”
Your lips curl into a sneer.
“I thought you were supposed to be Geto’s friend?”
What kind of person bets their friend’s relationship will fail?
“I am his friend,” Gojo argues. “I’m only saying this ‘cuz I know him so well. No offense to your bestie, but she’s not his type.”
“No.” He tilts his head, studying you. “He prefers someone a bit more…docile.”
You shift, trying to hide your discomfort underneath his gaze.
“They’re coming out.” You watch as the couple shifts closer. “Please don’t tell them you’re betting they’ll break up.”
Gojo laughs.
“Aye, captain.”
❤︎
Unmei stumbles into your apartment at 1 am.
You’d forgotten you’d given her a spare key. When you woke up to muffled footsteps and murmurs, you thought someone was robbing you. The influx of emotions you felt as you rushed out with a baseball bat, only to discover your friend draped across your couch.
Your very drunk friend draped across your couch.
“Unmei?” You shake her shoulder.
She barely moves. You do it again. She finally groans.
“Hi.” She rasps out. Her throat is groggy with exhaustion and alcohol.
“How…” You try to find the proper words. “How did you get here? Did you drive?”
“Uber.” She murmurs. “Sorry…I…sorry. Didn’t–didn’t wanna go back. Didn’t wanna see him.”
Her words are stilted, but you think you’re starting to get the picture.
“Did you and Suguru get into a fight?” You ask gently.
She laughs. It sounds bitter.
“You have to talk, to fight.” She tells you, and you want to press her on that, but she’s talking again.
“Suguru’s sad you don’t like him.”
“What?” You lean closer so you can hear her properly.
“Suguru–” She snuggles deeper into your couch”--he’s sad you don’t like him. Why do you not like him?”
“I like him.” You try to smile. “Of course, I like him. Why wouldn’t I?”
Her eyes are open. The way she stares at you makes your defenses weaken.
“I don’t know, Mei.” You eventually respond. “He’s always rubbed me the wrong way. I…I just find him a little weird.”
You want to tell her about the strange quips Geto’s made. The stuff Gojo said at the restaurant still eats at you. You want to tell her all of those things.
Unmei doesn’t let you.
She sits up so fast, you’re almost worried for her. You’re about to tell her to be more careful, but then you notice the look in her eyes.
Spiteful.
It’s directed solely at you.
“Are you fucking joking right now?” She spits out. “My soulmate is going out of his way to be nice to you, but you’re calling him weird?”
You have to back up as she stumbles to her feet. Her words are slurred and hard to decipher, but the intent is as clear as day.
“He doesn’t even like you.” She rants. “Why would he? For fuck’s sake you don’t even have a soulmate, and now you’re calling mine weird? You’re jealous. You’ve always been jealous of me, and I’m so sick of doing charity work.”
You blink. It feels like your heart’s been torn in two.
“Unmei…?” It’s the only thing you can even think to say to someone who you thought loved you. Tears well in your eyes.
Unmei knows how sensitive you are about soulmates. She always knew. As bad as your fights got in the past, it’s the one line she hadn’t crossed.
Until now.
She realizes what she said. Unmei slumps almost immediately, fully breaking down.
“I’m sorry.” She blubbers. “I–I’m so sorry, I just.”
You push aside your feelings as you always have to accommodate hers. She buries her face in her hands. Her shoulders shake. When you wrap your arms around her shoulders, she easily leans into your warmth.
“I shouldn’t have said that.” She sobs. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.” It’s not. “You’re having a bad day. Just sleep it off, okay? We can talk in the morning.”
She says nothing as you leave her on the couch. Minutes later, you return with a blanket, gently settling it over her still body.
“I saw him with another girl today.”
You freeze. Unmei stares blankly at the wall.
“He barely talks when we’re alone. He never talks. I don’t even know why I followed him, but I saw them together. They got into his car.” Her voice cracks. There’s a muted voice in the back of your head to comfort her.
You don’t move.
“I don’t know what they did. I…I just don’t know. That’s part of his job, right? Sometimes he takes his clients out to dinners and stuff.”
She looks up at you. “And–and everything’s so different when we’re alone. He’s so much warmer with you. Whenever we plan something, he’s always asking if you want to come along too. I just don’t get it.”
The apartment is quiet. Distinctly, you can hear a clock faintly ticking somewhere.
“Do you think he’s cheating?” You ask.
“Do you think he would?” Unmei asks right back.
You think of being honest. You think about telling her you genuinely don’t know. Then, you remember the anger in her voice just minutes prior. The hurt is still fresh on your mind. It’s instinct to cower and placate after you’ve been burned so harshly.
Just like always, you tell her exactly what she wants to hear.
“Of course, he’s nice to me.” You hear yourself say. “He probably feels bad for me.” Because you have no soulmate.
“Unmei, you don’t see the way he looks at you.” Does he ever look at her?
“He can’t stop talking about you.” You can’t remember a single conversation you and Geto had about her.
“He loves you. I’m sure of it.” Are you?
A shy smile creeps up on her face. You can feel yourself shatter.
“Really?” She asks.
You settle beside her, squeezing her fingers.
“Trust me.” Words feel like sand on your tongue. “You are going to make each other so happy.”
She’s smiling. You think you’re smiling too, but you’re not sure of anything anymore.
She closes her eyes again. You sit there for a few minutes. When you think she’s asleep, you get up to leave, but her voice stops you.
“I thought she was you.”
“You what?” You ask.
She nuzzles the blanket closer to her face.
“The girl. I thought she was you, but she wasn’t. She looked like you. It was the weirdest thing.”
You think she’s about to say more. She doesn’t.
The next day, Unmei acts as if nothing had happened. She’s laughing and talking during breakfast. You still think about what she said, hours after she left.
❤︎
The week before the wedding, you finally decide you no longer want to be friends with Unmei.
You don’t hate her, you could never hate her, but it’s clear you might’ve valued your friendship differently than she did.
You don’t think you want to boycott the wedding entirely. It’d taken months to plan. The money was already spent. You don’t want to ruin her big day.
But you don’t think you’ll be taking her calls as frequently. You don’t think you’ll drop everything for her anymore.
For now, you just want a bit of distance.
Now that you’ve decided to no longer prioritize her, your life is slowly becoming easier. Instead of doing everything yourself, you’re delegating tasks to the other bridesmaids. You actually make time for yourself instead of fizzing with nerves by the phone, wondering when she’ll call you to her side.
You can finally breathe again.
But old habits die hard.
I need you. Please come.
Unmei texting you in the middle of the night wasn’t a huge issue. But she never sends you this type of message. Formal, short, panicked.
You stare at the words, reading them over and over again. You promised yourself you wouldn’t do this again.
But what if she needed you?
You’ve been to Suguru’s apartment a few times after the party. It was mostly to pick stuff up or help Unmei. There’s usually a lively atmosphere with warm lights.
Tonight, as you tap on the door, you can’t help but notice how cold the atmosphere feels.
He doesn’t leave you waiting. Geto opens the door with a pleasant smile on his face. His grin widens when he locks eyes with you.
“Come in.” Geto pulls the door back.
You hesitate, but eventually you step in. Not much has changed since your last visit. There are fresh flowers in a vase. Something’s cooking in the kitchen. Still, the apartment feels emptier, somehow.
“I wasn’t expecting you.” Geto smiles. “This is a pleasant surprise.”
You give an awkward smile, shifting your weight.
“I’m sorry, I won’t be here for long,” you tell him before shifting your gaze to the bedroom, “Is she in there?”
Geto tilts his head.
“Are you looking for Unmei?” He slowly asks.
When you nod, he shakes his head.
“She headed out for her bachelorette party hours ago.”
For a moment, you thought you misheard him.
“Her what?”
“Her bachelorette party. I’m so sorry, I assumed you were with her. It’s why I was surprised you showed up.” He admits sheepishly.
“Bachelorette party.” You repeat.
She told you she didn’t want a bachelorette party. She called it a cliché. And now, when you decide to put your feelings aside and reach out, you find out she left you in the fucking dust as she enjoys her night.
You were so fucking done with her.
“Right.” Your throat feels tight. “Ok, then…I should go.”
A firm hand on your shoulder stops you from walking out the door. Geto stares at you with an empathic frown on his face.
“You shouldn’t leave like this.” He urges.
You try to pull away. His grip barely budges.
“Geto, it’s fine–”
“You should eat something at least. It’d be rude to send you away after you’ve been such a good friend to my fiancé.”
That stung even though you know he didn’t mean it like that.
“Okay.” You relent. “Just for a bit.”
He smiles.
“Oh, and call me Suguru from now on.” He suggests. “I think we’re close enough to drop the formalities, right?”
Suguru manages to get you to sit at the dining table. It was already set for two. A little while later, he comes back with two plates and a bottle of wine.
The food smelled delicious, but it tasted like ash in your mouth. You couldn’t find it within yourself to enjoy it. Betrayal made everything taste like nothing.
You don’t consider yourself a drinker, but Geto manages to refill your glass twice throughout the night.
Eventually, Suguru acknowledges the elephant in the room.
“Did you two fight?”
That actually made you laugh. It’s harsh and bitter. You gulp down the last of your wine.
“No,” you say, “I just didn’t fall to her feet this one time.”
That’s all you were for her. Not a friend. Not a companion. You were just some pet she could keep at her side. Bark when she said bark. Sit when she said sit. Roll over when she said. She was treating you like a dog who forgot a trick or two. You feel so pathetic.
You’re so upset, you have to stand up. Suguru only watches you pace back and forth.
“I’ve put up with her bullshit for months, y’know?” You don’t think you’re talking to him at all. You’re just ranting. “Whatever she wanted, I got her. I’ve spent hundreds of hours planning her perfect day with her. And yet, the one time I give an opinion, she immediately blows up at me and–and says all this awful shit, and I have to forgive her.”
Suguru rises with you, blocking your path. You look up at him. He’s blurry from all the tears in your eyes.
“She’s stressed with the wedding,” he tries to console. “I’m sure she isn’t trying to do any harm.”
You shake your head. Somehow, you find yourself sitting on the sofa. Suguru’s joined you. You can still taste the wine on your tongue. You’re drunk. You’re erratic. You’ve stopped giving a fuck.
“What about the stress she’s putting me under?” You argue back. “I tried to be a good friend to her, and she constantly treats me like garbage. And it’s all because I don’t have a soulmate? When has that ever mattered for her?”
Unmei had always protected you from anyone who mocked you for being incomplete. Other. She was your shield.
You can still remember her voice ringing through your head. The hatred. You’ve always been jealous of me, and I’m so sick of doing charity work.
You bury your face in your hands.
“All I ever wanted to do was be there for her.” You sob into your fingers. “Why is she shutting me out like this?”
You wanted to go back to how things were months ago. Back when you had someone so close, it felt like having a sister. Back before–
Suguru gathers your limp form in his arms. The scent of sandalwood and cinnamon overwhelms your senses.
“You poor thing,” he coos, and you melt into his calming words because you’ve never felt more alone in your life. “It must have been so very hard on you.”
You don’t know how long you sit there, snuggled into his chest, crying your heart out. It feels like minutes pass before your tears stop flowing, and your breathing slows down.
He pulls you away from his chest. You follow. You’re still heartbroken, but now you’re embarrassed for crying on your best friend’s fiancé’s shoulder. You look up, opening your mouth to apologize.
Suguru’s lips meet yours.
It’s barely a brush. You feel his fingers caress your cheek before you pull back.
“What are you–” your voice dies in your throat “What–”
“You want to feel better, don’t you?” He asks, voice terrifyingly gentle. “I can help with that.”
Your mouth opens and closes like a fish. When he tries to touch you again, you jump up.
“I didn’t…I never…” Your mind is spinning. You don’t know what to say.
“She’s your soulmate.” It’s the only thing you can think to say. “How–how could you think of doing that to your…”
Suguru tilts his head.
“We both know how stubborn she can get.” He speaks slowly, as if he were speaking to a child. “Look at how much you do for her. You are constantly bending over backwards. Aren’t you tired of doing all this charity work? Don’t you want someone else to take care of you for a change?”
Something clicks in your mind.
Charity Work. Unmei’s words, but that didn’t sound like her at all.
It sounded more like something Geto Suguru would say.
“It’s you.” Something cold splashes across your spine. “You’ve been putting a wedge between Unmei and me for months.”
He’s tried separating you from her as soon as he walked into Unmei’s life. All this time, he was speaking cruelties into her ear about you, manipulating her, turning her against you.
And Unmei fell for it because she thought her soulmate could never hurt her.
Suguru stands up. His smile is gone. You’ve never seen him like this before. You’ve seen him upset, bored, amused. This is different.
Every emotion on his face is gone. It’s like he’s stone.
He calls your name. It’s a warning. You don’t heed it.
“No, no,” you hiss out, “I don’t know what sick game you’re playing, but I’d never break her heart like this, no matter how angry I am at her. I’m not like you.”
You start for the door. You needed to find Unmei. Fuck the petty fight. Fuck everything. You needed to find her and explain everything to her so that things could return to normal.
You never make it to the door.
There’s a harsh grip on your wrist. Before you can even struggle, you’re flung back against the couch. You collapse on top of the stiff pillows.
Suguru’s quick to cage you in. Within moments, he’s trapped you underneath him. A hand reaches up to trap both of your wrists. His body is right in between your legs, pressing himself right up to you.
You kick. You scream. A hand clamps down on your mouth.
Suguru waits patiently as your rebellion tapers out. You lie underneath him, panting and utterly defeated.
A tear trickles down your cheek. He wipes it away, adoration at his fingertips. It makes you sick.
“I really wanted our first time to be romantic.” He sighs, genuinely sounding disappointed. “I spent the entire day planning our little date. And then you had to get all hysterical.” He clicks his tongue.
“I think you’re spending a bit too much time with my fiancé, Dear.”
You flinch at his words. He grins.
“At the same time, I can’t say I’m not happy with how the night ended.” He releases your mouth. You prepare to yell again. “You can scream if you want to, dear. I’m sure you’d like the whole floor coming by to watch me fuck you. I don’t mind an audience.”
Horror rushes down your body.
“What do you mean?” Suguru says nothing, leaning back to release his tie. “Geto-Suguru,” you beg. “You can’t really mean that. You can’t do this. What about Unmei? What about your soulmate?”
“I thought I told you this already.” He wraps the tie securely around your wrist before considering you.
“Soulmates are paths, guiding us to our true destination.”
He presses his forehead to yours. You lay there, utterly helpless, staring into his purple eyes.
“Through her, I was able to find my true other half.” He confesses. “Someone that perfectly fits me.”
If he were another man, if he had another name, you might have fallen in love right there.
But this man has your friend’s name written on his wrist, and it makes you want to vanish into the Earth.
He rises back up with a grin.
“What can I say? I’m a romantic at heart.”
You’re shaking your head as he reaches down for your shirt. It’s pulled off of you within moments, revealing your bare flesh. Your skin trembles against his fingers as he explores the skin on your stomach, pushing his hand up until it reaches the bottom of your bra.
Your tits are exposed to the cold air as he grabs them. Curious. Exploring. Nausea builds in your stomach.
“You should relax, love.” He urges as his hand travels down. “You could make yourself sick from all that crying.”
He acts as if he cares for you, even when you know he couldn’t care less. You can feel his heat pressing up against your thigh. It’s a blunt foreshadowing of his true desires.
The silk against your wrists tightens every time you move. The wine isn’t helping either. You feel sluggish, almost feverish. You lie there, completely limp, watching as he picks at your pants. They don’t have much of a fight before he’s dragging them off your body completely, leaving you with just your cotton panties.
The cold settles on your bare thighs. A large hand settles on your upper leg. He squeezes. You jolt.
Suguru’s kissing you again. It’s harsher than the first time. More teeth, like he intends to swallow you whole. He squeezes your chin, keeping you in place so he can continue to devour you. For a moment, you debate biting his tongue off, before you quickly bat it away. The thought of him getting violent, even worse, terrifies you.
But how could he get worse?
He pulls away with a satisfied sigh. The hand on your thigh lifts to your clothed slit. You don’t realize you’re wet until his fingers slip underneath your panties.
There’s a slight hitch in his breathing.
“Is this for me?” You can practically taste the victory in his voice. “How sweet.”
A few moments later, your panties are torn away, too. Your legs are tangled with the thin cloth, leaving you utterly defenseless as he spreads your thighs apart.
“No,” you’re telling him. “Don’t–No, no–”
He hushes you with a quiet whisper, and then his mouth is on your pussy.
Your thighs immediately fall onto his shoulders as he ate you out. There was a rhythm to it. His tongue lapped at your slit before curling at your clit. Immediately, you reacted. Your thighs flexed, threatening to clamp over his head. Something hot coiled in your belly as he sucked on your pussy.
Your protests eventually gave way to sharp gasps and whines as he continued to tongue-fuck you. You think you’re still crying, but its interrupted by another toe-curling mewl. You don’t have the ability to hold them in. They force themselves past your lips and into the frigid air. You could feel Suguru smile against your clit. You’re so wet you’re probably dripping all over the couch, but you think Suguru couldn’t care less.
He lifts you up by the hips. You let out a yelp as he crams his tongue into your hole, drinking the entirety of you.
“That’s it.” His voice is muffled by your pussy. It’s slurred. Drunk. “Lemme’ hear you.”
You obey, helpless to do anything else. Your mind is swirling with self-hatred as you feel yourself approaching the edge. You can’t do anything to stop it. Your hips move by themselves. Your pussy clenches.
Your orgasm was a tiny hitch before you completely came apart. Suguru keeps you there, latched onto your clit like a man starved, until you finally come down from your high.
You lay there, panting, completely spent. Suguru rises from his spot in between your legs. He wipes at his face, never taking his eyes off of you.
The kiss he gives you is terrifyingly soft. Almost sweet. You can taste yourself on his tongue. He gently holds your chin like you’re the most delicate thing in the world.
If you closed your eyes, you could pretend it’s anyone else. Not Suguru. Not your friend’s fiancé. Not her soulmate.
But Suguru doesn’t care about you enough to let you have that fantasy.
“Look at me.”
His voice is too soft to be demanding, but the order is clear from his tone.
Slowly, your eyes drift back open.
Suguru stands over you as if this were his rightful place. You can see his cock, fully unfurled from his pants. The mushroom tip has a bead of glistening, white pre-cum as he slowly aligns it to your battered pussy.
You think the worst part is his eyes.
Soft. Gentle. He stares at you the way no one else has.
Love.
You want to cry again, but you think you’ve run out of tears.
His nonchalant demeanor is cracked. His pupils are flared with lust. He grunts when he slides his swollen tip across your folds. Pussy juice is smeared all over his cock as he does it again and again.
“I’ve waited so long for this.” He sighs, and you don’t think he’s talking to you. “No one is taking this away from me.”
Not even you.
You should be grateful he cares enough to be gentle. His cock is huge, big enough to split you at the seams if he wanted to. You still he lowers himself into your hole. Immediately, your walls flex, squeezing his cock.
Suguru growls and bits his lip. It’s clear whatever control he has left, he’s only holding it by a hair.
It’s almost a relief when he fully sheathes himself inside you. He nearly collapses, face ducking into the crook of your neck. Your toes curl when he hits a spongy spot inside of you that nearly makes you see stars.
“Fuck.” He hisses, voice sharp. “That’s it. That’s it. Just take it.”
It’s an unsteady pace. Brutal, almost mind-breaking as he continues to fuck himself into you. You can hear his ragged breathing in your ear as he drives himself deeper and deeper into your cunt. You can barely keep up with the motions. Your thighs shake with the momentum.
You think you’re saying something, and then your mind is wiped clean with another thrust. It’s an endless cycle of torturous pleasure.
“Suguru–I–I can’t.” You’re blabbering. “I can’t, I just can’t–”
“You can.” He urges back, fingers reaching down to rub your clit. You arch, back lifting up from the pillows. “I know you can, darling. Look at that. Look at you. Look at how well you take me.”
“This was how it was always meant to be.” You can’t decipher the tone of his words. Your mind is too preoccupied with the feeling of your pussy wrapped around his cock. “You were practically made for me.” A broken wail passes out from your lips. He laughs.
At this point, you think he’s too far gone to even know what he’s saying.
“I love you so much, darling.” He leans back into your neck, biting down on the flesh. “No one can take you away from me. You are all for me.”
At least, you hope that’s the case. You can’t bear to think his words have a semblance of intent.
Your mind goes white as you cum on his cock. Your eyes roll back, your back arches up like a bitch in heat as you fall off the edge. Your pussy milks him, clamping down hard as you ride your high.
There’s a moan in your ear before something hot pumps into your pussy, painting your insides with white. There’s so much, even with his dick still plugging your cunt, some still manages to leak out, dripping down your ass.
He takes a shaky breath, and then he’s kissing you again. That same delicate touch he loves to take after he breaks you. You can taste the festering love through his lips and tongue. You let him, too exhausted to fight back.
You think he’s saying something. You can’t hear him over the throbbing in your head. The tone he uses is soft as lips press against your temple.
And then, his cock slips out of your ragged cunt before slamming back in all over again.
❤︎
Mei<3 Missed Call(23)
‘Where are you’
‘Where are you’
‘Please dont do this to me’
‘I’m begging you’
‘I love you so much’
‘I’m sorry for everything I’ve done’
‘Plase don’t do this to me’
‘He’s my soulmate, why would you take him from me’
‘Please don’t do this to me’
…
‘You’re just a selfish slut. Take him then. See if I care.’
Ever since you woke up, all you could do was stare at Unmei’s texts. You’ve read them over and over.
The words never change. Each line cuts you deeper than before.
You’re no longer on the sofa. Sometime last night, Suguru must have moved you. You sit up on a luxurious king-sized bed with silk sheets. Your body is aching and sore. There are marks all over your body.
The man who made them sleeps peacefully right next to you.
You’re still naked. It hurts to move. All what you can do is read Unmei’s texts over and over as you wipe away the sharp tears trickling down your cheek.
The curtains of Suguru’s bedroom are open. It’s early morning. The beginnings of a sunrise creep over the horizon. Buildings are obscured by a light fog, and you can barely make out the outline of the city. The sky is illuminated with pinks and light oranges. It’s the prettiest sight you’ve ever seen.
You don’t notice he’s awake until Suguru’s muscled chest presses against your back. You flinch as his head settles into the crook of your neck. He inhales your scent.
“I told you, didn’t I?” He murmurs against your skin. “It’s a beautiful view. You’ll get to see this every day, from now on.”
You don’t bother batting him away. You just stare down at your phone. There’s no new message from Unmei. She blocked you hours ago.
Fingers pluck your phone from your loose grip. Suguru adjusts himself, wrapping an arm around your waist as he sifts through her panicked messages. He clicks his tongue.
“Never expected anything more from her.” He sighs before he tosses the phone in the mess of blankets. He kisses your neck. “She’ll probably come by today. Hopefully, she’ll move out without much of an issue.” He remarks casually. Dully. Complete disinterest.
Why? You want to ask him. Why you? Why would he–why would anyone–hate you enough to do this?
But then, you remember the look of love he gave you as he rammed his cock deeper. You don’t know how you’d be able to hold yourself together if you saw that again.
For the sake of your sanity, you ask:
“What did you tell her?”
Suguru’s fingers curl around your stomach. You can hear the slightest hint of irritation in his breath.
“Nothing.” He eventually confesses. You want to yell at him, call him a liar. You don’t get the chance.
“She must have felt the bond sever.”
You notice it, just then.
The wrappings on his wrist.
Your heart is pounding in your chest as you grab at it. Suguru lets you unravel his work, silently watching each layer of gauze drop away.
It’s ugly. The skin is raised and irritated. It will probably leave behind a scar.
Not a single trace of Unmei’s name is left on Suguru’s skin.
You want to scream, but your voice is frozen in your throat.
You added too much sugar to your coffee. It stings your throat as it goes down.
Shoko sits across from you, sipping on her own drink. You haven’t seen her in almost ten years, but she hasn’t changed her tastes in coffee. Regular black. No cream. No sugar. A habit she picked up from those late-night studying sessions in high school.
“We've been thinking of settling down for a few years now. Starting a family and all that.” She waves her hand dismissively at the waitress, who kindly offers a refill of coffee.
She has changed, however. Taller. Instead of a curt bob, her brown hair is slightly above her chest. The dark circles under her eyes are more prominent than ever, definitely related to the long hospital hours.
You nod in understanding.
“Have you looked around for a mate?” You wonder. It seems impossible to picture Shoko’s pack having any trouble with omegas.
Shoko sets her cup down. You liked the cafe she brought you to. It’s quiet, not too busy. It reminds you of the little nooks and crannies you used to drag her to. At first, you were a little surprised when she reached out after being so quiet for so many years. Now, the nostalgia is slowly leaking through.
“A little here and there.” She admits. “Not seriously, though. The clinic doesn’t leave much room for courting. Suguru’s got his hands full with the temple. Satoru’s well…Satoru.”
You can barely hide your smile at how she rolled her eyes at the mention of her fellow packmate.
“It’s why I wanted to talk to you, actually.” She shifts a little closer. Her eyes are soft from the lack of sleep as she gazes at you. “I heard you’re part of a matchmaking program.”
You nod. She glances away. Shoko almost looks sheepish.
“I was wondering if we’d be able to join.”
A smile stretches across your face.
“Of course! What time do you think you could come in?”
☕︎
You didn’t expect Shoko to present as Alpha.
You two were childhood friends. Being older than her, it was more like you were a babysitter–not that you minded the role. Shoko was a quiet kid even in her younger years. You liked that she often trailed behind you, like your own shadow. It was flattering in its own way. You never had any siblings, so you often regaled her as your younger sister.
You thought she’d be a beta like you. Or maybe even omega. Alpha was the last designation you would’ve ever given a girl like her. Just like you, she had two beta parents–being anything else was close to impossible.
But, looking back, the signs were always there.
The scuffle wasn’t the worst you’d ever seen. Fights are normal, especially for kids around your age. Emotions run high, sometimes. If left unsupervised, children don’t usually have healthy outlets.
Shoko wasn’t a kid you’d ever picture getting into a fight, yet the evidence was clear. It looked worse than it actually was. You can see remnants of dirt clinging to her youthful cheeks from when she took the fall. Her clothes were lightly scraped, as was the skin on her knees. It was nothing a Band-Aid couldn’t fix.
You hadn’t seen what happened. You had been on the other side of the playground when the yelling happened. Shoko barely struggled when you pulled the kids apart. The other girl was crying. Shoko wasn’t. Being the older one, you decided it was best to end the day right then and dragged Shoko home.
The girl was always quiet, but that walk was like talking to stone. She never budged from her clamped lips and tightened fists, no matter how hard you prodded. A part of you understood why. She was probably resigning herself to her parents’ beratement. She didn’t need a lecture from you, too.
Just when you were about to give up completely, she gave in.
“She said she was your friend.” She told you quietly.
“The girl with pigtails?” You asked
Shoko nodded. “She called you her friend, even though you’re mine.”
You glanced down at her hand, tightly clasped on your own.
“I can be both of your friends.” You gently tried to suggest.
She shook her head. Her grip tightens.
“No.” She said with a finality you’ve never seen in a child before. “Only mine.”
☕︎
Despite being well into the modern era, alpha-and-omega matchmaking programs haven’t lost popularity. It’s become a multibillion-dollar industry. Nowadays, instead of being sold off for political power, omegas and alphas can simply go to their local agency to find their mates.
Obviously, betas like you aren’t permitted to join, but you are highly encouraged to become matchmakers. Neutral scents are helpful when it comes to finding alpha-omega pairs. It’s comforting to omegas and non-threatening to alphas. Betas can not only act as matchmakers but also as barriers if things go awry.
You highly doubt that you’d need to be the latter, however, for this pack.
They arrive ten minutes before the official appointment. You knew Shoko had something to do with that because you doubt Satoru ever lost his lazy streak. Having no client, you decide to take them in early.
Satoru’s just as chatty since the days from highschool. He trails behind you as you lead the group to your office, asking about your day and then telling you about his. You didn’t think he’d be a teacher, but he always managed to surprise you.
Suguru is reserved but friendly. He greets you after Satoru’s tight hug, giving one of his own. You heard he now heads a Buddhist temple, though you never considered him the religious type. It’s hard to imagine him in traditional clothes after seeing him in casual wear and a high school uniform for so long.
“Didn’t expect you to be part of a breeding program.” Satoru comments after you’ve shuffled them into your office. He leans in, probably to inhale your scent again. They’ve all done that once or twice. Satoru’s just not as subtle as the other two.
It’s an alpha thing. Omegas and alphas are different from betas. Unlike you, they rely more on pheromones to guide them around the world. He hasn’t seen you in a while; it’s normal to see if your scent has changed.
“We try not to call ourselves that.” You lightly respond, settling behind your office. “Trust me, it’s not as intense. All we do today is look over what you want in a mate—basic preferences. Then I can pair you up with whoever fits best. What you do after is entirely up to you.”
It’s a bad joke. Only Satoru smiles.
You clear your throat.
“So, did you have anything in mind?”
They exchange glances. You, completely used to losing alphas, continue briskly.
“We’ll start with broad strokes,” you tell them. “Obviously, you want a mate who’s open to a pack, right?”
“Yes.” Shoko agrees.
You type it across your keyboard. Alpha packs do a lot better in the program compared to single alphas. Often, your omega clients specifically requested them. You doubted you would have any trouble finding a match for these three.
Suguru and Shoko don’t look particularly happy at his intrusion, but nobody objects. You add it to their profile.
“Any particular scents?” You ask.
“Not too sweet,” Suguru says. “Something more neutral.”
Satoru doesn’t look too interested in this topic. “What he says.”
Shoko is more concrete with her answer.
“Earl Grey.”
You try not to react to that, typing it into their profile with little hesitation.
“I think that’s enough for now.” You hurry along. “Do you have any education or work expectations?”
“Not particularly,” Shoko responds. “I think we’re looking more for a homemaker type– someone willing to settle down for pups.”
You had a feeling. Alpha packs are more interested in being providers, caring for their omega mate who is cuddled in a nest. Most omegas feel the same way. It’s a fairly symbiotic relationship.
“What about you?” Satoru asks.
You look up at him.
“Pardon?”
“Are you thinking of settling down? Having kids and all that?” He continues.
“Satoru.” Suguru chastises, but there’s nothing sharp in his voice. Shoko says nothing. Her warm, honey eyes always felt piercing. You always chalked it up to yet another alphan trait.
You shrug, thinking nothing of the question.
“Quit my job for a mate, you mean?” You ask before you shake your head. “I don’t think I could. I think I’d only be able to do it for a specific person, but I don’t think a person like that exists.”
Besides, you love your job. You love helping people find matches and life-long mates. Why would you ever give that up for children?
“But if that person did exist–”
“Satoru.” You interrupt. “We’re looking for a match for you, not for me.”
He huffs, leaning back in his seat, almost like a scolded child.
“Fine.” It almost sounds like a whine. You try not to laugh.
The rest of the appointment proceeds smoothly. Half an hour later, you’re able to gather additional specifications and preferences. Unlike the first few questions, the three are far more lax with their answers. Typically, after the first session, you’re able to put together matches off the top of your head. For whatever reason, these three were far too vague for you to get a clear idea.
“I think I can figure things out from here.” You tell them when the hour is up. “Would you be ready to meet your potential matches in a week or so?”
Suguru genuinely looks surprised. “I didn’t realize it would be so quick.”
“It’s more for trial than anything else.” You respond. “Don’t feel pressured if you aren’t ready.”
“That’s fine,” Shoko tells you. “Will you be with us when we meet them?”
“Of course not.” You assure. “I’ll just give you their profile. Whatever happens next is entirely up to you.”
You expect her to look relieved. She says nothing. None of them do.
“In any case, it was really nice seeing you three again!” You say when you lead them out to the door. “I wonder why we never met up after high school?”
Satoru frowns as he returns your hug. “It’s ‘cuz you practically ran away from us, remember?”
You wouldn’t necessarily call graduating and moving to college ‘running away’. Still, you laugh.
“I’ll try not to do that from now on.” You tell him. “You still have my number, right?”
Satoru’s still whining as you walk them through shiny glass doors. Suguru offers to buy you lunch, to which you decline. You had another client in a few minutes.
“One more thing before you go.” You call out just before they leave. “I’m a little curious: what made you decide to join the program?”
The three look at eachother. A secret conversation only alphas could ever have.
“We got tired of waiting,” Suguru answers.
Later, you realize that isn’t much of an answer.
☕︎
The three weren’t always this close. You could distinctly remember a time Shoko hated the other two.
Your community was mostly betas, with a small number of omegas. Until then, Shoko lived her school life as the sole alpha for miles around. Being her senior, you constantly worried about her. Alphas weren’t betas. There would always be a missing link between the two of you, no matter how hard you tried to accommodate her. As much as Shoko assured you otherwise, you knew a part of her would always feel that void.
And then, Gojo and Geto came along.
Both alphas. Both in the same year as Shoko. They exemplified the look of Alpha. Both of them towered well over the rest of their peers, already well over six feet despite their ages. When they smiled, you could see glimpses of silvery-white fangs. Being the only alphas in the entire grade, they were extremely interested in Shoko. You were ecstatic, happy to see your friend finally make friends with others.
Shoko was less than enthusiastic.
You didn’t understand why she wasn’t perceptive towards them. When they tried to extend their friendship, she raised her hackles, and her eyes would darken. She was well past her days getting into fights on the playground, but you were sure she was close to snapping on certain occasions.
Gojo and Geto continued to hover around her, despite her hostility. Since you were her friend, they hovered around you, too.
You tried to be a bridge for the three. Shoko hardly ever rejected your invitations to hang out. When the other two tagged along, that fact never changed, but she never seemed happy about it. She’d latch onto your arm, baring her teeth when the other two got a bit too close for her liking. You stopped initiating those hangouts as her clinginess often got far too debilitating.
“You need to be more social.” You finally told her.
“No.” She responded stiffly, her voice muffled by your shoulder.
You two sat on the school rooftop underneath a sunny, cloudless sky. Even on days like these, it was sparsely populated. Most of the student body preferred to have their lunches in the cafeteria or the courtyard.
“They’re being nice.” You urged. “They’re being so nice, and I can’t be your only friend forever.”
“Why not?” She asked.
You rolled your eyes, jostling her ever so slightly.
“I just can’t.” You insisted because you have bigger dreams than being stuck in a tiny town, you know, that has no future. There was a life outside of this place.
Also, you didn’t like being Shoko’s only friend. There’s a reason why she’s so protective of you–possessive at times. It’s an alpha thing: they can’t help but take and keep. Her possessiveness was terrible in her younger years, but at least now she’s a tiny bit better about you having other people to hang out with. Still, she refuses to become closer to anyone but you. Even in middle school, she barely had a handful of acquaintances she was quick to abandon in favor of you. It’s not healthy to be so isolated like that. You worried for her.
She’s about to say something, but then something sour crossed over her face. Shoko hunched over as she melded herself further into your side. You abandoned your chastising and gathered her up in your arms.
Shoko’s ruts were severe. She was almost always out of school those days. Even after her rut passed, she took days to recover. She was weakened and intensely more irritable in the aftermath. The only good part of her ruts was that in the days after, her scent became stronger, even to your weak betan nose. Shoko's scent reminded you of summer turning into fall. A low hill. A grassy plain. A dessert just after a large rainfall. Unlike the few alphas you knew of, her scent wasn't overly invasive. It was clean, and low, and rumbling.
For Shoko, certain vices eased the agony. Nicotine helped, but you never liked the way the smell of cigarettes clung to her body. You tried to help the best you could, letting her cuddle you in quiet places away from prying eyes, rubbing her scent all over you to self-soothe.
But there was a limit a beta could do.
Her volatile ruts were yet another reason to be closer to Geto and Gojo. Alpha pheremones help other alphas. Just being in proximity to another would be enough to steady herself.
Shoko knew this, and yet she remained stubborn.
“You don’t get it,” she whispered after her episode passed. Her eyes were shut as she leaned further into your space.
“You can’t smell them like I can.”
You tilted your head, about to prod further, when Shoko opened her eyes. Her lips twitched into a frown. Less than a heartbeat later, the rooftop door flung open just as a giddy Gojo called out, ‘Found you!’ with a satisfied Geto trailing just behind him.
Shoko barely held back a growl as you pulled her off her feet to greet the other two, quickly forgetting her words. No matter how resistant she was, your determination to get her closer to the other two never faltered.
But sometimes, even you wondered if they were right for each other.
You never meant to eavesdrop. You and Shoko always walked home together; it’s the only reason you made your way to her homeroom, wondering what the hold-up was. She never made you wait. If anything, you always arrived after her.
It looked like a fight, but why would Gojo and Geto smile if they were fighting?
Shoko sat at her desk. She barely packed. You saw notepads and pencils scattered across her space. Gojo sat backwards on the desk right in front of her, hands crossed on the chair as they stared eachother down. Geto stood a little way away.
They were already in mid-conversation. You barely caught the tail-end of it.
“-Who cares who marked who first?” Gojo said, an overdramatic pout arched over his lips.
“You should really learn how to share, Ieiri.” Geto continued because back then, they weren’t on a first-name basis yet. “It’d be better for all of us if you did.”
“You know that’s not natural, right?” Shoko responded; her honey eyes were no longer rich and warm. “You should give up.”
“Shouldn’t you, too, then?” Geto wondered.
The conversation ended the second Shoko noticed you. She stood up in a rush, barely shoving her things in her backpack before she marched up to you and dragged you away with a harsh grip on your arm. You could barely wave to your other two underclassmen before you were carted away by her.
You never asked, abandoning the curiosity as soon as you saw the expression on her face. You always wondered what would have happened if you had arrived just a bit later.
☕︎
Utahime wrinkles her nose before she enters your apartment.
“You smell like him.” She gripes.
You tilt your head before remembering there’s only one alpha in the world that made her face twist up like that.
Satoru always had a habit of scenting you in high school. You may not be able to smell it, but other omegas and alphas can. You scolding him while he sulked on his desk like a puppy wasn’t an uncommon sight. Obviously, he hadn’t broken the habit.
“I’ll have to talk to him about that.” You frown. “I don’t think omegas will like the idea of him scenting a beta.”
The omega perks up. “Wait, he’s joined the program?”
“All three of them, actually.” You tell her as you both settle down in your kitchen. “I managed to set them up with an omega just a couple of days ago.”
Your omega client seemed absolutely thrilled when you told him. Alpha packs are growing more uncommon by the day, so he was right to be excited about it. You hope it went well. He matched most of the pack's wants, so you don’t think it will end in complete shambles.
Utahime still looks unconvinced. “I didn’t think they went for omegas.”
You understood what she meant. In high school, those three never seemed interested in omegas. Shoko was friendly with Utahime, but Satoru always picked on her, and Suguru occasionally joined in. At first, you assumed it was a ‘pulling on the pigtails of the girl you liked’ situation, but their teasing often felt hostile.
“Maybe they finally grew up.” You tell her. “Do you ever wonder who the pack leader is? I never had the chance to ask them, but I always wondered.”
Asking about that kind of thing is a bit rude, especially if you weren’t a potential omega. You’ve seen other packs before, and it’s typically pretty easy to tell who the pack leader is. It’s usually the one who’s always biting the others down, keeping them in place. Shoko, Suguru, and Satoru aren’t like that. They work so well-together, it gets hard to tell who’s really calling the shots.
Utahime snorts. “It’s obviously Gojo.”
“Obviously?” You echo.
“His scent is the strongest. That’s usually what determines it,” She explains, not sounding too interested. “I bet he whined and whined until the other two gave in.”
You felt bad for laughing, but you could honestly imagine that.
“I’m really surprised Shoko’s still with them.” You continue. “I know they’re all pack, but she’s so different compared to the other two.”
Satoru was the most outgoing, but Suguru had his own quirks. Shoko was the odd one out, you always felt.
Utahime shrugs, rifling through her bag. “Maybe they have more in common with each other than you realize.”
For a bit, the topic of the three is dropped. You let Utahime ramble about her work and how her students are doing as she sets out her newest creation: a chocolate raspberry cake.
Omegas have certain quirks when their heat approaches. Utahime bakes–something you take full advantage of. You would feel bad about begging her to bring over her desserts all the time, but Utahime never seemed to mind your desperation. Like most omegas, Utahime's scent was slightly stronger. Now, even your weak betan nose could catch a whiff of her scent in the air. She smelled gentle, like flowers dancing in the wind on the side of a grassy mountain.
“This is incredible.” You moan when you take another bite of chocolate goodness. It practically melts on your tongue. “Can you be my mate? I’d make you happy, I swear.”
She looks away. “Shut up.” There’s no heat in her voice.
“Have you considered it, though?” You wonder, inhaling another slice. “Joining the program, I mean. I can think of a few alphas that might interest you.”
She shakes her head. “I don’t think my type is in the program, and besides.” Her face turns disgusted. “Now that Gojo’s in it, I’m not taking any chances.”
You laugh. “I’d make sure to never pair you up, I promise!”
She huffs again. Your voice quietens as you remember something.
“Hey, I was wondering…what do I smell like again?”
She frowns. “Why do betas always ask that? You need to get better noses.”
“Just remind me.”
She rolls her eyes, but she acquiesces.
“You smell the same as always,” she tells you. “Like Earl Grey & Cucumbers.”
By the end of the week, you finally get the call you were waiting for.
You pick up on the second ring and immediately press the speaker button.
“Hiro!” You trill, making yourself comfortable on the sofa. “How have you been?”
Your omega client responds in kind. You make small talk until you eventually bring it up.
“So,” you ask, “how did the date go?”
You expect a barrage of excitement and blabbering. Hiro is a sweet guy. You could tell he would mesh well with those three. Inwardly, you congratulate yourself for making such a good match.
“It went okay.” His answer stills.
“Okay?” You repeat.
Just okay? You expect something far more than such a simple answer.
At your silence, Hiro continues.
“Maybe okay isn’t the best word. I liked them but…” he trails off. “I don’t think they liked me very much.”
“Huh,” you say, tapping your fingers. “What did they say exactly?”
“Not much, I mean, they were nice. I just don’t think our personalities meshed well. They were all so quiet, I felt like I was doing most of the talking.”
“Quiet? Even Satoru?”
“I don’t even think he spoke,” Hiro confesses.
You do not think the word quiet appeared in Gojo’s dictionary. He constantly chattered, unable to let the world forget he existed for hardly a moment. It was a major reason you paired Hiro with them. He is just as bubbly. You thought he and Satoru would work really well together.
“Wow,” you say after a while. “I’m sorry, I really thought things would work out between you four.”
“It’s fine,” Hiro responds, just as disappointed. “Plenty more fish in the sea, right?”
You once again tell Hiro your apologies before hanging up. Weird, you usually had more trouble appealing to your omega clients compared to your alpha ones. Maybe this would be a lot harder than you initially assumed.
☕︎
Halfway through your second year, Geto joined the newspaper club.
You were ecstatic when he told you. Shoko couldn’t participate in any early-school activities due to her poor sleep habits, and you doubt Gojo would’ve enjoyed them. Having somebody you knew do an activity you enjoyed was really exciting. It was something you and he bonded over, much to Shoko’s chagrin.
When you had club projects together, it was common to go over to one or the other’s houses. You liked Geto’s house. It wasn’t so large, not like Gojo’s sprawling mansion you’d had the misfortune of getting lost in once or twice. Geto’s home was vibrant and warm, filled with splashes of color and properly decorated furniture.
His parents were nice too. You liked the snacks they brought out, more than happy to indulge in the intricate sweets they prepared.
His parents were a proper alpha-omega pair. His alphan-father was boisterous and hearty in a way that reminded you of Gojo. His voice was loud, and his laugh practically rang through the halls.
His omegan-father was a bit on the meek side. You could count the number of times he’d directly spoken to you. His voice was soft–a complete contrast to his mate. He often resigned himself to quietly nodding along with whatever his husband rambled on. You could count the number of times he’d directly even looked at you.
Once, when Geto was still rummaging upstairs for something or another, you wondered out loud how they met. The alpha was more than happy to tell you the story of how he met his omega. You learned that they were childhood friends before the omega decided to part ways for a bit. Eventually, they reunited and got mated soon after.
“You waited for ten years?” You asked in awe. “Did you ever consider moving on?”
The alpha laughed before shaking his head, “Never.” He told you with a smile. “When alphas find their mate, nothing can keep them away, not even time.”
Geto’s other father stood in the kitchen, dutifully wiping down a counter. He didn’t react when his husband told you about their love story. You could only assume he was used to it.
“That’s beautiful.” You gushed.
There’s a secret smile on the alpha’s lips before Geto marches downstairs, leading you out the door with a glare directed at his father.
“Ignore him,” Geto told you as you trekked to school. “He tells that story to every person he can.” There’s a roll of his eyes, and he failed to hide his embarrassment.
“I think it’s sweet.” You kindly told him as he averted his gaze. “I don’t think I could wait ten years for someone like that.”
Geto considered you for a moment.
“I don’t think I could, either.” He finally admitted. “At the very least, I would get impatient by the end of it.”
You thought you were about to agree when your phone beeped. You glanced at the notification, and your heart skipped a beat.
Takahashi<3: I’m free after school:)
You barely hid your smile. Geto didn’t miss your sudden giddiness as you typed away on your phone.
“Did something happen?” He asked.
You shook your head and placed your phone back into your pocket.
“I think I have a date later.” You told him, oblivious to the twitch on his lips.
“A date?” Geto echoed. You cheerfully nodded.
You liked Takahashi since the start of the school year. He was in your homeroom, and you were already close acquaintances. You wanted to get closer to him, but Shoko often thwarted your plans. She made her distaste in Takahashi extremely clear. You tried not to get too upset by her attitude. She was protective of you and probably thought you could do better. It’s what friends did.
“Maybe we should keep this from Shoko.” You told Geto right before the school gates. “She doesn’t really approve of the guy.”
Geto hummed. “I’m not surprised.”
The day passed on as it normally would. You trudged through your sludge of classes and waited for school to finally be over. When it did, you practically jumped from your seat, barely waving off your friends as you rushed out of the school gates.
Takahashi wasn’t waiting for you, but you didn’t mind. You could take some time to calm your nerves.
You waited.
Five minutes.
Ten minutes.
You sent him a text.
Eighteen minutes.
You sent another.
Students filtered past you, eager to abandon their homework in favor of arcades and hanging out with their friends. You remained where you were, feeling your excitement drain the longer Takahashi refused to show his face.
After nearly an hour of waiting, you gave up. He wasn’t coming. You wanted to call him, but you can’t bring yourself to. Embarrassment crept up your shoulders and neck. You felt so stupid for even waiting around for this long.
They caught up to you when you were halfway home, glumly dragging your feet across the pavement. Gojo’s long arm draped over your shoulders as he lightly jostled you in an effort to catch your attention.
“Where are you going?” He cheerfully asked. You frowned.
“Home, obviously.” You told him before glancing further up ahead.
Geto gave a lazy wave. Shoko said nothing. You expected her to be a bit less receptive towards Gojo for putting his hands on you.
She had no reaction.
“So, you’re doing nothing, right?” Gojo asked. Glee radiated from his body. “We should go to the movies!”
“That sounds fun.” Geto agreed, before he gave you a pointed look. “As long as you didn’t have anything planned?”
You appreciated that he wanted to give you an out, but it was for nothing. You planned to spend the entire day with Takahashi. Your afternoon remained empty now that he unceremoniously ghosted you.
“That sounds fun,” You said, “but I’m not in the mood to–”
“I’m fine with anything as long as it isn’t that weird Earthworm movie Gojo kept talking about.” Shoko piped in as she stepped closer.
“But it looks so funny!” Gojo whined as he tugged you in the other direction. The other two followed right behind him. “You should give it a chance.”
Despite your reluctance, you were dragged off to the movies regardless. You couldn’t remember the film. The popcorn tasted buttery and salty in your mouth. Gojo kept disrupting you to talk shit about every character that popped onscreen. You weren’t allowed to go home until hours later, when the three made it their mission to walk you home. By that time, you’d forgotten about your botched date. You were far more interested in how the three had suddenly grown close.
It was as if they’d always been friends. Their conversations with each other felt natural, almost right. Even their bickering no longer held Shoko’s usual hostility. Perhaps you’d been wrong to try to force it. They just needed to find each other in their own way.
That day might not have ended the way you wanted it to, but you were still happy.
The very next day, Takahashi completely ignored you. He no longer smiled or greeted you. He seemed perfectly happy pretending you never existed in the first place.
If you were being honest, you did not mind in the slightest. Over time, you forgot about the guy who ditched you, and life continued on as always.
☕︎
Part of you expects the luxury.
When Suguru extended the invite, you knew he was never one to pull his punches. When he plans something, he goes all out. He adores dramatics and flair. This time was no exception.
The restaurant exuded extravagance the moment you stepped through crystal-clear glass doors. The warm air soothed the goosebumps gathering on your arms– a complete contrast to the chilly wind lingering just outside. The floors and ceilings were perfectly polished to the point where you could almost see your entire reflection. The spiral columns were perfect ivory, perfectly matching the black-and-white theme throughout the floor. Your heels clicked against the tiles as your hostess led you through the restaurant. The sounds of clinking utensils and glassware filtered through your ears.
They were already seated, three pairs of eyes clinging to your figure as you made their entrance. Satoru was more than happy to greet you first. His eyes simmer, but his smile barely falters as you get closer.
“What?” You ask.
Satoru wrinkles his nose.
“You smell like alpha.”
“It’s probably because I work with other alphas,” you say, “You know half of my clients are alphas, right?”
“Ignore him.” Suguru cuts in before Satoru continues to badger you. “He skipped his afternoon nap, so he’s a bit fussy this evening.”
You wave it off. Truthfully, you were used to alphas getting mad over another alpha’s scent. It’s happened to a couple of your omega clients, as well as to you. It’s instinct for alphas to flare up when they smell other alphas. Biological. They can’t help it. You actually expected Shoko to be more hostile because of it, yet as you glanced over, she barely even blinked. She must’ve gotten over her scent possession days from high school.
You adjust yourself in your seat as the waitress strolls over. Food and drinks are ordered. You listen to Satoru whine about work while the other two chastise him. You promised yourself you wouldn’t drink too much, but barely half an hour in, and you’re already tipsy. You know this was supposed to be a get-together, a high-school reunion of sorts. Work was absolutely not to be discussed, but you couldn’t help getting yourself worked up over it. They might’ve been your old high school friends, but they were also the most difficult clients you’ve ever had.
Shoko notices first.
“Just say it.” She eyes you.
“Say what?” You tilt your head.
“You’re mad, right?” Satoru pipes in, absolutely delighted when you frown in his direction. “It’s all over your face.”
“I’m not mad.”
“Oh, it’s that bad, hm?” Suguru hums, and you roll your eyes.
“I’m not mad.” You repeat, before wincing. “I’m…frustrated, I think. You guys are giving me a run for my money.”
After Hiro’s clear rejection, you paired a couple more omegas with the three of them. Each one ended in the same way. You would get a call from a disappointed omega telling you it didn’t really work out. Later that same day, three alphas would innocently seat themselves in your office–ready for another match.
You don’t even know what you’re even mad about. They’re allowed to make rejections; that’s their right. For whatever reason, it oddly felt like they were messing with you.
You could expect that type of behavior from Satoru, maybe even Suguru, but Shoko? You could never see her do something like that for the fun of it.
(Or maybe you were clinging to her high school demeanor–the sweet, quiet girl who used to trail behind you with soft brown eyes and a muted smile)
“At this point, I think you might be doing this on purpose.” Your lips curl up into a smile to indicate how silly you think that is. It’s clearly a joke. Low-hanging fruit, you guide them to so they can quell your worries.
None of them refute it. Eventually, Satoru starts rambling about yet another incident involving the students at his school. Suguru chimes in with his thoughts every now and then. Shoko just berates her packmates for being such nuisances. The topic is carefully avoided for the rest of the night.
With delicious and expensive food carefully stashed into your stomach, the four of you decide to call it a night. When you reveal you took the cab here, the three are quick to invite you into their own car. It doesn’t take you too long to give in.
When you step out into the cold, Shoko offers her jacket. She used to do that back in middle school; smother you with her clothes any time she could. She’d take your clothes too, sometimes. You used to find skirts and shirts missing every time she came over. She never stopped, not even when you scolded her for it over and over again. ‘An alpha thing,’ your parents once told you when you complained, ‘you need to be more considerate of her nature. She can’t help herself. It’s instinct.’.
When she does it now, you don’t think it has anything to do with her instincts. She grew out of it when high school came around. Today, Shoko wraps her jacket around you to protect you from the blistering cold as you follow them outside.
The car belongs to Satoru. You’ve never seen it before in your life, but you can instantly tell. It’s Satoru’s in the way that it’s bright red and sleek. He starts the car with a low rumble. You climb in the back, feeling your seat hum as the car purrs to life.
Suguru settles next to you while Shoko gets into the passenger seat. Your stomach flips when you start to buckle yourself in. You start to remember all the times Satoru nearly killed you with his driving skills back when he first got his license. He’d been so excited back then, constantly offering rides to your house, the arcade, and even to places where there was no need for a car. His need to show off was an ever-present part of his personality back then.
“Did he ever learn to drive properly?” You can’t help lean over and whisper in Suguru’s ear.
He laughs while Satoru puffs from somewhere in front of you.
“I heard that,” Satoru says, “My driving was never that bad. You’re so dramatic.”
It was much worse than bad, but you decided not to bully him about it. Surprisingly, Satoru drives a lot nicer than you expect. He maintains a mostly steady pace, not at all like the sharp halts and breaks his younger self seemed to like so much.
He catches your eye in the rearview mirror.
“See?” He tells you with a proud smile.
You roll your eyes, unamused.
“Honestly, I’d take highschool you’s driving over Utahime’s,” you say, watching the city nightlife as the car speeds up, “she insists on driving fifteen miles below the speed limit. It takes an hour to get anywhere.”
“Utahime?” Suguru echoes, and you remember he probably hadn’t seen her since high school.
“How is she?” Shoko asks.
“She’s doing well.” You respond.
You’re about to offer a reunion before you clamp the urge down. She wasn’t their friend, after all. If anything, she barely tolerated them. Anytime your juniors would crash your hangouts, Utahime’s face would instantly pinch up. For your sake, she remained mostly civil.
“Is she mated?” Shoko asks.
You eye her. It’s a weird question to ask, but you give in anyway, not really seeing the harm.
“No, not that I know of,” you admit, “she’s not a big fan of the matchmaker program, either.”
You’ve tried to convince her numerous times, but Utahime refused to budge. She’d get oddly offended anytime you even broached the topic, so you’ve decided to avoid it.
For a split second, you catch Shoko and Suguru looking at eachother with dark eyes. Secret conversations only alphas could have. You bet their scent was dipping in a way only they could sniff out. A part of you always wondered it was like, but you never wondered for long. It’s not like you’d ever get to experience it.
Were they thinking of Utahime as a potential mate? You didn’t want to burst their bubble, but you highly doubt she’d be happy about that.
“We keep talking about our love lives, but what about you?” Suguru suddenly asks.
You glance at him. “My love life?” You ask.
“Met anyone special lately?” Satoru prods from the front.
You shake your head, watching the scenery pass you by. You remembered them being curious about your dating life back in high school, constantly hounding you the moment you got close to another beta who wasn’t them. It was only natural. Alphas and omegas found lifetime partners in a very different way compared to betas. To you, the idea of talking and going on dates to get to know someone is natural. To alphas, it must sound like an alien concept.
“I’ve got my hands too full of you three to even bother meeting someone.” You tell them with a teasing lilt in your voice before it fades. “Besides, meeting another beta is a lot harder than meeting up with an omega. Everything’s less instinctual, I think.”
“Why would you only restrict yourself to betas?” Shoko asks.
The alcohol was getting to you. Your lips are a bit looser than usual. Your words are cruder. You roll your eyes.
“Who else is there? An omega?” Your voice dipped into a sardonic sneer like you couldn’t even stomach the thought. “An alpha?”
You laugh at the joke. They don’t join in. You don’t notice the darkened tension in the car as you continue to stare out the window, not minding the silence. The evening tired you out. You stifle a yawn, and your eyes drift closed.
Something sharp grazed your neck.
Your eyes snap open. The car has stopped. You glance over to Suguru.
He smiles. There’s a respectful distance between the two of you. He remains a seat apart.
“Did I startle you?” He genuinely asks. “Sorry, I was trying to wake you up.”
“Oh.” You say, calming down your racing heartbeat. “No, it’s okay. Are we here?”
You raise up, trying to peek at the window. Your apartment complex lies just a little way away.
“Home sweet home!” Satoru cheers, his glee having fully returned.
“We’ll walk you up,” Shoko suggests.
“No.” You fumble with your seatbelt. “You’ve done so much already. Thanks for the night. It was fun.”
“It was.” Suguru agrees. “We should do it again, sometime.”
You eye him again. He still hasn’t moved. You resist the urge to touch your neck.
“Yeah,” you say, trying not to make your voice sound so clipped. “That would be great.”
You step out into the cool night air, trying to ignore the three pairs of eyes that followed you across the sidewalk and up the stairs. As soon as you got out of their eyesight, you finally felt like you could breathe again.
Hours later, when you’ve showered and settled into bed, you finally decide to tell yourself there was nothing. You had been half-asleep. You probably dreamed it. You’ve known those three your entire lives; there was no way they could do something like that.
And yet, a part of you could feel it on your neck. You reach up to lightly press on the patch of skin. There was nothing, but a part of you had that feeling memorized. You don’t think you could ever forget that feeling.
Teeth rasping right over your scent gland.
☕︎
You never truly saw Shoko as an alpha until your last year of high school.
You never had the chance to. You’d grown up with her by your side. You saw her every day. You didn’t notice her slowly surpassing you in height. You didn’t notice the way her teeth grew sharper and sharper. To you, she remained as Shoko: your tiny little follower.
In your head, you always put her in a different category than Satoru and Suguru. They were your friends, but they were also alphas. Shoko was your friend. There was a difference, though you weren’t sure what the difference was.
The incident happened sometime toward the end of the school year. By then, the three had formed a true pack. All the bad blood they shared in their first year had completely scattered by the second. They matched eachother well, moving as one coordinated unit. When the four of you hung out, you felt like you were the odd one out. It made you wonder if this was how Shoko felt when you forced her to hang out with your friends, an alpha surrounded by betas.
You weren’t upset at her for finding a friend group she matched with, regardless of how little you fit in. She deserved that.
You appreciated that she tried to incorporate you into her circle, too.
“Are you ignoring us?” Suguru asked.
You gave him a look, already exasperated.
“What are you talking about?” You frowned. “You literally asked me to check your essay. That’s what I’m doing.” You gestured to the paper on your desk.
Technically, it wasn’t your desk. This wasn’t your classroom. The rest of the second year had already left for the day, preferring to spend their time at home or at clubs. These three remained the odd ones out, still lounging on their desks hours after the bell rang.
Since Shoko had this bad habit of refusing to let you walk home alone, you were often forced to sit with them, waiting around until they decided to leave.
You sat just behind Suguru and Shoko. Suguru’s elbows rested on the chair’s back as he watched you work. Shoko mirrored him. Satoru abruptly left a few minutes ago, most likely to get a snack from the vending machine to satisfy his sweet tooth. The only evidence of his presence was his sunglasses and his backpack, hung over his chair.
“I’m starting to think you just gave this to me so I won’t get bored.” You complained. “Your writing’s perfect as always. What am I even looking for?”
“I’m sure you’ll critique it well,” Suguru responded, as an amused smile spread across his lips. “I trust your judgment.”
You rolled your eyes but cast your gaze down on the paper, hoping to find something to nitpick. You knew that was an impossible feat. These three were at the top of their class for a reason.
“I give up.” You told him, handing his paper back. “It’s perfect. I see a 100 in your near future. Stop fishing for compliments.”
He laughed, but he accepted his essay back with fingers ever so gently brushing over yours.
“Besides, I’m not really good at grading.” You continued. “Utahime’s the literature expert.”
“I don’t think she’ll be too happy being asked for a favor like this.” Suguru countered as he tucked away his assignment. His nimble fingers ran across his backpack and tugged the zip shut.
You clicked your tongue. “That’s because you and Satoru are constantly picking on her.”
Your eyes slide to Shoko.
“She likes you at least.” You tell her with a teasing smile.
In that, you mean the two girls are civil to each other. By that time, you gave up on Utahime’s ability to cozy up to these guys. They’re a lost cause–the few omegas in your school already steer clear of them. It’s clear they aren’t looking for anyone to complete their pack.
“I don’t think it’s like that.” She refuted.
You opened your mouth to respond, but then their expressions shifted.
Their hackles raised. They sat up straighter. Alert. You’ve never seen them act like that before. Your smile faded, pulled away from your lips by their sudden behavior.
There’s a soft thump at the classroom entrance. Your eyes landed on Satoru’s body, leaning against the door. His breaths were ragged, shoulders hunched over.
You stood up, making your way towards him. Shoko called your name, but you didn’t stop. You hesitantly reached for your junior. Concern settled at the back of your throat. Was he sick or something? He seemed okay when he left just a few minutes ago.
“Satoru?” You called, watching his shoulders stiffen. “Is everything okay–”
You saw his eyes. There was a flash of blue and teeth before he lunged at you.
Suguru stepped in before he could make contact.
There was a clatter of desks as Suguru pushed his friend to the floor and restrained him. You stumbled back, nearly tripping over on your feet, before your back collided with Shoko. She held you securely in her arms as you watched the struggle.
You couldn’t even recognize your friend as he breathed heavily, still pinned underneath your other friend. His eyes hadn’t left yours. They were clouded, unfocused.
Satoru’s scent was often muted to your beta nose. Sometimes, when he got particularly worked up, you caught a whiff of something deep and almost fruity in the air.
Today, the clear scent of Satoru invaded your senses.
Rut, your brain supplied even when your body remained helpless to do anything but watch. Satoru had gone into rut.
“Should–” Your voice shook. You swallowed down your nerves. “Should we get a teacher–”
Shoko called your name again. This time, you listened.
Your eyes drifted up to meet her own. She stared straight at Satoru’s writhing body.
“You need to go. Now.”
You don’t recognize her tone. You’ve never heard such a voice come from her before. It was deep, almost guttural. Unapologetically alpha.
It was why you obeyed. Silently, you packed up your stuff, putting away your assignments and pens, shoving them into your bag. You avoided the scene of the two alphas calming down their packmate as you fled the classroom. You heard Satoru’s grunts through the hall. They followed you, rang through your ears the entire walk home.
The next day, Satoru wasn’t at school. When he returned the day after, the incident remained unspoken. The three refused to acknowledge it. You did the same, following in their footsteps. It was easier to pretend everything was fine. You wanted to forget the vision of Satoru staring up at you with clouded eyes. You wanted to forget Suguru’s strength as he restrained his friend. You wanted to forget what you heard in Shoko’s voice.
It was easier to pretend.
Around that time, you looked into colleges out of town.
☕︎
You think it’s time you cut Satoru, Suguru, and Shoko off.
Not personally. It’s the first time in a while that the four of you have seen each other since high school. Nostalgia for the good old days clouds your vision. You couldn’t do that to them or to yourself.
But clearly, your services were not working out for them. The many matches and omegas you have set up always ended in rejection. There wasn’t a single omega they liked, and they often had vague reasons for why. Getting a clear answer was like pulling teeth. Maybe they couldn’t be honest with you because of your past with them.
It was not fair to those three. Maybe you were wrong to offer your services. You should have recommended one of your fellow matchmakers instead. A part of you will always feel guilty for jumping the gun like that, far too excited to help your friends find love than being logical.
You’d cut them off professionally. As for personally, you would still keep in touch here and there. Just not as often. You were gradually declining their invitations to hang out. You texted them less and less. You wouldn’t cut them off, but you were slowly starting to remember why you drifted away from those three in the first place.
You agonized over your decision for days, wondering how to break it to them.
When they extend the offer for drinks at their place, you decide to bite the bullet.
One rainy evening, you step out of your car, blinking away the drizzle as you stare up at the mansion. It was large enough to pack ten families into the estate. You knew Satoru’s family was well off, but it always breaks your brain when you try to understand how well off. Satoru offhandedly mentioned he liked the property for how demure it was compared to his childhood home. The front door puts your entire apartment to shame.
You barely wait a second after you knock. The door pulls open, and Shoko invites you in with a smile on her face. You return her hug, feeling her soft cashmere sweater underneath your fingers. She’d been smoking recently. The scent of it was faint but still noticeable in the air. A part of you wonders if you can chastise her as you did back when you two were kids.
You thank her. Thunder rumbles in the distance as you step inside. The rain and wind picked up, swirling angrily outside and pelting the windows.
“How long do you think the rain will last?” You ask her as she leads you further inside.
There’s another boom of thunder and lightning. Shoko glances down at you thoughtfully.
“We’ll definitely be stuck in here for a while.” She tells you.
You nod along. Hopefully, the rain lets up by the time you go home.
Unfortunately for you, the rain poured throughout the evening. Mother Nature refused to let up for even a moment, going on and on.
Compared to the chill of the rain, the house provided bright lights and warmth. The storm raging outside was nothing compared to the three chattering about their daily lives. Throughout it all, you smiled and talked when necessary. You didn’t know if they noticed, but you were anxious, your entire body twinged with nerves. Despite the wine swirling in your cup, you refused to take a single drop. It’s best to have this conversation sober.
You wait until there’s a lull in the conversation. You take a deep breath.
“So, I was thinking about transferring you guys to another matchmaker,” you say. “But I want to hear your thoughts first.”
They don’t seem necessarily surprised by your declaration. Satoru adjusts himself on the couch. He props his chin on his hand as he studies you. His sunglasses slide down the bridge of his nose. Pretty sapphire eyes stare unwaveringly at you.
“Transfer us?” He echoes. “I thought we were your favorite clients.”
You try to match his lazy grin, but it comes out stilted and wobbly.
“I think it’d be best for you all.” You avert your gaze, fiddling with the cup, almost grateful to have something to keep your fingers busy. It was an expensive-looking cup. When the wine glass caught the light at just the right angle, it sparkled. Translucent glass turned iridescent.
“It’s not fair for me to keep you guys on like this for months,” you continue. “Every omega I’ve matched with you three always ends in rejection. Maybe you’d have better luck with someone else?”
You huff out a laugh.
“At this point, I’m starting to think you don’t want to meet omegas.”
You don’t need to have heightened senses of an alpha to know that was the wrong thing to say.
Immediately, the evening's quiet atmosphere turned heavy and daunting. You felt it in your shoulders as something invisible almost pinned you to the sofa.
Satoru’s smile almost turns feral.
“You’re right.” Shoko says.
You can’t read her expression. Her lips are pulled into a thin line. You think you like the lipstick shade the wears tonight. It compliments her tone well.
You squint at her. A pit forms in your stomach.
“What?”
“We don’t want an omega.” Suguru finishes for her. “And after meeting so many, I’ve never been certain of anything more. We don’t want an omega, we want you. We always have.”
He keeps his tone softing, almost coaxing, like you’re some wild animal. Despite the gentleness of his voice, his words cut deep into your soul. You’re shaking your head before you realize what you were doing.
“I don’t understand.” You repeat his words over and over in your head as you lift yourself from your seat. “I–I don’t understand why–”
“C’mon, you couldn’t have been that oblivious, right?” Satoru slips into the spot next to you. A long arm rests across your shoulders, keeping you in place. “We made things so obvious in high-school. Pretty sure Shoko was pining ever since elementary.”
You wait for Shoko to refute the claim. She doesn’t. Even now, you’re thinking everything they’re telling you is some type of sick joke–something alphas tell to unsuspecting betas to laugh at.
“I’m a beta.” You state the obvious. “You are all alphas. You can’t–you shouldn’t want me–”
“I don’t care.” Shoko says as she stares at you with pretty eyes the color of warm honey. “I never have.”
Satoru hums in agreement. He leans into your side, nuzzling his face into your neck. When he’s close like this, the smell of his scent is stronger. He smells like a Buddhist temple tucked away in the highest mountain peaks, unreachable to all. The wind howls and whisks past ice and rock. The air is freezing and thin, almost suffocating.
You move when he gets uncomfortably close to your nape, right where your scent gland is.
You throw his arm off your shoulders, standing up straight. You keep your eyes on the ground, unwilling to look at any of them. You don’t think you’d be able to look at them for a long time.
“I don’t want to listen to any of this anymore.” You hear yourself speak.
“You three are drunk. You don’t know what you’re saying.” You step away from the living room. Your movements are robotic. Stiled. Your body is kept on autopilot as your brain tries to keep up with what just happened. You head for the door.
“Sleep it off. We can talk about this later.”
You never reach the exit.
A hand grabs your wrist, keeping you in place. You turn back to see Suguru’s empty expression. His purple eyes are dark. He gives a smile. It looks hollow. Fake. Plastic.
“I’m sorry,” he tells you, “I just…I don’t think I can wait anymore.”
The words feel familiar. A conversation the two of you had a decade ago.
You open your mouth to ask when his lips swallow yours.
It’s utterly possessive in nature. Suguru’s scent envelopes you whole as he kisses you. He smells like what lurks underneath the roaring sea. You feel like you’re drowning, trapped in underwater caves where your ears pop from the immense pressure of the unwavering ocean.
Your hands press against his chest, urging him off. Even then, he only releases you when he’s had his fill. You stumble back, looking at his reddened lips and dark eyes. He’s breathing heavily, slightly hunched over like he’s ready to pounce. His eyes are wide and completely blown out.
You don’t think you’re looking at a person anymore.
You’re looking at a predator.
“Yeah.” It’s something between a growl and a laugh. “I don’t think I can wait any longer for this.”
Your words are cut off by a scream–your scream. There’s a harsh grip on your wrist before you’re being dragged back to the living room and haphazardly thrown onto the couch. Satoru’s hands keep you down as you struggle fruitlessly against his arms. He laughs somewhere above you as your vision twists and turns in mindless panic.
Satoru’s kiss is a lot more violent. He’s messy, smearing his scent all over your neck, your scent glands, eager to claim. His sharp teeth are more than happy to explore your lips. When he reluctantly pulls away in satisfaction, your lips are left in bloody tatters.
“I don’t think I can wait anymore, either.” Satoru agrees with his pack mate. “I’m surprised you were the one who broke first, Suguru. What happened to ‘waiting ‘till everyone’s ready’ and all that bullshit? So desperate.”
Fingers play with the edge of your shirt as Suguru scoffs. “Shut up.”
“Stop.” You’ve never heard your voice sound like this before. “Don’t–don’t–”
“Enough.”
The two freeze. So do you. Something blankets over your body.
Calming pheremones, the last piece of your brain supplies, but who would…?
Shoko’s face enters your vision. You blink helplessly at her.
Her expression is serene and calm as she studies your body. Her hand reaches out, gently caressing your face and tracing the length of your jawline. You feel the scrape of freshly manicured fingers.
On omegas, alpha pheremones help them become more receptive towards their alphan mates. It calms them, makes them feel closer to their chosen mate, and helps the process move along.
On betas, however, alpha pheremones cross wires. You weren’t built to be receptive. It clouds your vision, making your thoughts hazy. The panic remains even as your body slows down.
“Did they scare you?” She asks, voice gentle and dripping with faux innocence.
You can only manage a weak whine. She smiles and leans down to place a delicate kiss on your feverish temple.
“It’s my fault.” The worst part is how honest she sounds. “I should have told you back in high school. Maybe if I had, you wouldn’t have left, and maybe things would’ve been different…” Her voice trails off, and there’s this faraway look in her eyes.
“I meant what I said.” Her eyes focus on you again. “I don’t care that you’re a beta, but I don’t think we can treat you like a beta…not if we want you to understand that you belong with us.”
You look into her eyes, right underneath the bubbling warm honey. You think you see it then. Something rotten that festered there for at least a decade before it climbed its way to the surface. For a moment, you wonder how you hadn’t seen this in high school. You wonder how she tricked you, coerced you into becoming her friend despite the dark depths she held so closely to her heart.
And then, you understand she hadn’t hidden this from you at all.
Until now, you hadn’t seen her as alpha.
“I love you,” Shoko tells you earnestly, brushing away the tears cascading down your face. Then her voice hardens, and she isn’t talking to you anymore.
“I make the first bite.”
Satoru and Suguru don’t argue. Why would they? To alphas, the pack leader’s word is law.
Her kiss is gentle. She’s slow and careful as she carefully glides her lips and tongue against your own. She’s careful of her teeth, savoring your shuddering mouth as she swallows your cries and pleas.
You hate how familiar her scent is. Shoko is the Earth that the mountain rests on, where the oceans rock. She was everything you’ve ever known, and yet there was so much left to uncover. You just didn’t think you could do that before losing yourself.
Someone tugs down at your pants. Your eyes widen, and your panic builds up all over again. Shoko hushes you. Her lips trail to the edge of your jaw.
“He just wants to taste. Don’t mind him.” She tells you as Satoru tugs your pants down your sluggish legs. His fingers itch with eagerness as he squeezes the plush of your thighs.
“Don’t worry.” Shoko continues as Satoru practically rips your panties apart. “We won’t knot you tonight. We know you aren’t ready for that.”
“Fuck.” Satoru groans as he spreads your legs. He leans down to nuzzle your pussy, nose bumping at your clit. “You smell even stronger down here. ‘Can never get enough of your scent, I just wanna drown in it.”
“Who’s the desperate one, now?” Suguru goads as his own fingers explore what’s underneath your shirt. He grabs a fistful of your chest before squeezing. Your back arches up from his movement. He smiles.
Satoru ignores him and buries his face completely into your pussy. His tongue flicks out, eagerly lapping up at your hole. His movements are oddly stilted, almost unsure, mostly driven by instinct rather than anything else. Of course, he wouldn’t have any real sexual experience. Unlike betas, alphas and omegas mate for life.
His eagerness largely makes up for his lack of technique. Within moments, your body responds to him, urged on by his touches even though your mind is clinging on to the last semblance of sanity you have left.
“I love it.” His voice is almost a sob, strangely broken and muffled as his tongue drives deeper into your hole, hoping to drink up the essence of you. “I love this. I love you. I love you so much. I’m so glad we have you again.” His hands reach up to keep your trembling thighs away from his face, opening up more of yourself to his eager mouth.
“Satoru.” You hated how heedy your voice sounded. Your core clenched at the intrusion of him tongue-fucking your sensitive pussy, muscles contracting like they wanted nothing more but to keep him inside and milk him for all he’s worth. Your eyes squeezed shut as he pulled out to nibble on your clit.
“Please–please don’t–I don’t think I can–”
“I know, baby.” He coos from somewhere underneath you. “It hurts, right? I can make it all better, I promise. Just let go, baby. You can do it, I know you can.”
Encouraged by Suguru playing with your tits and the constant pressure of Satoru right at your cunt, you can’t put it off any longer. Shoko licks a stripe across your neck, and you’re gushing all over Satoru’s face as your pussy cums over and over again. Fingers dig into your ass cheeks, keeping your hips from lifting up as Satoru wrings out every last drop you have. He doesn’t stop until you collapse, exhausted underneath the staggering weight of your orgasm.
With bleary eyes, you watch as he rises from your throbbing pussy. His lips are still shiny. He never breaks his gaze from you as he licks his lips, savoring each drop.
Suguru takes his place between your trembling thighs. There’s a hiss of a zipper. Your eyes get impossibly wider as his cock pops out from underneath his briefs. It’s already an angry, bright red.
You don’t fight this time, not when Shoko’s pheremones are already starting to drown you again. You watch as Suguru’s cock aligns itself to your battered pussy. The tip taps on your swollen clit as he rocks himself through your plush lips, once, twice, thrice, until his cock finds your hole.
You hate the way his eyes glaze over. He looks down at you with complete adoration.
“I love you.” He tells you. “I can’t wait until you love us, too.”
Shoko’s teeth find your neck at the same time he bottoms out. The pain of the claiming bite somehow overrides the fullness you feel as Suguru ruts into you over and over again, completely giving into instinct.
With that, you are completely and utterly claimed as pack.
cw: MDNI, sukuna x f!reader, sukuna shows you his dıck piercings, he has a little crush on reader and is oddly respectful
Sukuna was widely known for two things:
1. Being an asshole.
2. Having multiple piercings on his dick.
And despite his shitty attitude, women still flocked to him in hopes of at least getting a peek.
You’re no better than any of them. The thought of what his dick could possibly look like has always lingered in the back of your head in the years that you’ve known him. Going out of your way to scratch that little itch you have is something you wouldn’t dare to do though.
It’s not like he was a friend or anything. Just an acquaintance, which was close to enough to know that if that side quest ever went wrong, there was no avoiding him. Yeah, you may not talk much at parties or random get togethers, but his presence alone was too demanding to ignore.
And on the off chance’s that you do talk, he is suffocating. It’s not even because of the way he acts. Surprisingly enough, you’ve never actually been on the receiving end of his temper when it’s soiled. It’s just his presence— the weight of his stare, the bass of his voice, the way he demands space.
Sukuna makes you nervous, and you’re pretty sure he knows that too. You wouldn’t say you were a timid person by any means. You could hold your own, had a decent amount of confidence, but it was never enough to handle him for longer than small increments of time.
He knows that too.
It’s why he keeps his distance. Look, he’s not a monster, and you’ve never done anything to bother him. He knows what he’s like, and if he’s too much for you, keeping his distance isn’t something he minds doing.
Sukuna’s not perfect though. He’ll come up and bug you after he gets a couple of drinks in him. His version of it. Which is, in a slightly lame way, just talking. Maybe a little flirting— saying that you smell nice, or that he likes whatever the fuck you did with your hair, yada yada. Sometimes you fold, sometimes you don’t. It’s different every time, he thinks of it as a little game he likes to play once in a while.
On this particular night, you had a little more to drink than what you usually had, and lucky for him, you didn’t actually crumble 5 minutes into talking about something as mundane as your job.
He wasn’t following you around and marking his territory on you like some dog, but he can admit that there were a few times he lingered around you. Not that you noticed, it was one of the very few times you let loose, so therefore you weren’t overly aware of your surroundings.
It wasn’t until everybody left when things got interesting though. You both just so happened to be spending the night at a shared friend’s house. Separate sleeping arrangements, of course. But you two were the last ones awake, in the basement, sitting and talking on the couch he was planning to sleep on.
It started with him asking about your dating life, if you had anybody you were seeing or not. You two were still drinking. Not too much, but enough for the conversation to inevitability turn suggestive.
Until he straight up told you that he enjoyed putting women in headlocks and fucking them until they cried. It was a piece of information that you definitely didn't mind being told, but it was only a matter of time before it'd circle back to you.
"Alright, what about you?"
“I don’t know,” you let out an awkward laugh, clearly flustered from the sudden pressure he put on you.
He just smiles, eyes drifting down to your lips. “I’m just asking what you like— nothing to be shy about,” he hums.
You take a moment to think about it, deciding for once to push past the shyness you tend to feel around him. "Alright, fine."
And without hesitation
“What about dick piercings?”
“I don’t— huh?” Your brain short circuits, already telling yourself that this can't be happening. It’s too good to be true. “I’ve never been with anyone that’s had one before, but I guess they’re nice.”
You really don't know why you say you guess. They are nice.
Your answer makes Sukuna look at you as if you’ve experienced nothing but back-to-back tragedies in your life, all because you've never been with someone pierced before.
“Yeah— feels good, too.” His response of course does not match his face or his tone, it sounds more like he’s pitching a sale. “Especially when you have a few of them stacked over each other like mine.”
Jesus fucking Christ.
“That’s—“ your throat grows dry at the thought, “did it hurt?”
“Nah, felt more like a pinch.”
“And there’s… how many?”
“Five,” he says the number like it carries weight and meaning, and at this point, it does. “One right under the tip and the rest is a Jacob’s ladder.”
You try to imagine it and end up looking confused as you open your mouth to say something, only to close it due to the words dying in your throat.
It happens 3 times before he eventually cuts in again.
“Wanna see it?”
What kind of a question is that? Of course you wanna fucking see it. Why wouldn’t you? You still hold on to what little respect you have left though.
“That wouldn’t be weird or anything?”
“Maybe, but it was me who brought it up. Can’t blame you for wanting to see.”
He’s full of shit and knows exactly what he’s doing. But you go along with it because this is something you've thought about for years. Less than a minute later, he’s unbuckling his belt and zipping his pants down.
There’s a moment of (fake) reluctance when he palms his boxers and remembers that it’s not just the piercings you’re going to see. It’s also his cock, which, in his honest and humble opinion, is a work of fucking art. Especially when it’s hard, like right now. He almost feels like he has to warn you, but decides not to and instead asks if you're ready.
You weren’t sure. You’ve been internally screaming this entire time though, and knew you’d explode if you didn’t see it already, so you gave him a nod.
Then your jaw nearly drops as he pulls his boxers down low enough for his entire cock to spring out. Spring’s not even the right word to use, it was too heavy for that, and if anything, just settled right on his stomach.
It was long and thick, a couple prominent veins running down his shaft. Big, dark pink tip that had some precum dripping from it. And then the five piercings.
Holy shit
It didn’t help that his hand was loosely wrapped around the base, lids growing heavier the longer you stare.
“Oh my god?”
“Yeah,” he rasps.
“You’re fucking huge.”
“I know.”
You don’t really care that much about the piercings despite them being the only reason why he has his dick out right now, but he is not complaining. By all means, stare at it. Please.
Drool, even.
He huffs out a laugh as he sees a little bit of it collect at the corner of your mouth, and swipes it off with his thumb before raising it to his mouth and licking it clean.
“Sorry,” you say without an inch of shame.
“You’re good,” he casually says, not trying to ruin the romantic moment you’re currently having with his dick. “Probably from one of the drinks you had earlier.”
“Mhm.” Neither of you believe that, but just go along with it. “Do the piercings ever get caught in your boxers?”
“Never,” he shakes his head. “They’re smooth against everything. . . You can touch them. If you want.”
Your hand’s already reaching out before that sentence is even finished, and his abs involuntarily flex at the feeling of your fingertips brushing over the underside of his shaft.
You say nothing, because you can’t think of anything respectful to say, and just continue to trace up until you get to his tip.
He feels you pull back and takes a good guess at why you did as he watches you rub your fingers together.
“Shit, sorry— fuck, you’re kidding me,” he suddenly groans out.
You licked precum off your fingers, but didn’t realize it until after.
Your eyes widen in panic. “Oh my god— that was so weird, I’m sorry.”
“No, that was— it wasn’t weird,” he tries to put a response together, but he’s honestly just as shocked as you. “You're fuckin’ nasty— did it taste good?”
You can’t even believe you’re saying this right now, but, “Honestly, yeah.”
“Jesus,” he lets out a low laugh, throwing his head back for a moment to take a deep breath, which turns into a deep, drawn-out hum when he feels you wrap your hand around his base. “You’re fuckin’ killin me right now.”
“I know, I’m sorry,” you whisper at first. “We should just—“
He opens one eye. “Fuck?”
“Yeah.”
notes: dick piercing kuna deserved his own spot in my master list so i freshened this up from side character reader 🫶🏻
𓆩❤︎𓆪 MDNI. 18+. car séx. missíonary. piv. dírty talk. degradatíon. humíliation. sprinkle of asphyxiation ‘n darcyphilía. vv self-indulgent lol.
the car rocks side to side as suguru thrust inside you, a plap! sounds echoes the small space.
one moment you are smiling because your strict parents finally approve of the boyfriend you brought, the next thing suguru had the you laying down in the backseat.
the space should have made you feel intimate, too close but with the mouth of suguru—there’s nowhere near intimacy. just pure filth and nasty.
“god, have you seen how they acted earlier, princess?” suguru asked, slamming to you sharply. “if i asked for your hand in marriage right there. i think they would have just agreed and let us.” he chuckled as if he’s literally not fucking you after charming your parents.
“also you think i didn’t notice that you keep biting your lip when you look at me? good for you, i was thinking about fucking you right there.”
your back arched from the leather seat, you can feel the heat crawl all over your body—a mix of embarrassment and arousal.
“ahh, suguru—please, no—no more—!!” you moaned loud, nails raking his torso.
suguru had his hand around your neck, pressing on your pulse. “huh? you literally just clenched on me. your pussy doesn't want me to go, angel.” he said before losing his hand around your throat. “lying is bad, y’know?”
each drive of suguru’s cock claimed every inch of you, you can feel your cunt stretch far more. his blunt head has been reaching further, punching your cervix.
“suguruuu, can’t—! i’m gonna lose it, hah! pleaaase!” you cried out as your body trembled from the sensation—the way his tip kisses your womb.
his palms pressed harder on the back of your knees, spreading you wider. “look at you, acting prim and proper around your parents but will spread your pussy out for me the next minute.”
you didn’t even notice the tears pricking at the corner of your eye until they flowed on your cheek. you can’t even speak anymore, just incoherent babbles of suguru and please.
“crying already, princess? is it because my cock is balls deep inside your tight pussy or..” suguru pulled out his cock all the way causing you to whine, tip settling in your entrance, “..or is it because you feel ashamed about how your parent’s perfect daughter acts like a perfect little slut for me, hm?”
suguru slid deep right back, slamming his hips to yours, not waiting for your answer nor reaction—causing you to jolt and dig your nails on his back.
“their pride and joy being stuffed full by her—what was what that they said? oh, a polite, well mannered young man.”
the car windows have fogged, the confined space is making you sweat much more despite the air conditioning. the wet, slapping noise along with your moans and suguru’s groaning rings to your ears—lewd and dirty.
you threw your head back, feeling delirious as suguru piston his cock in your sensitive pussy. your mouth hangs open as the saliva dribbles down your chin in every gasp you let out.
suguru cracked a wicked smile staring at your messy state—tear stained, drool, mouth open? perfect. you are perfect, his perfect girl.
germansingergirl
baratheonpilled
dailybridgerton
prguitarman
