A royal engagement. A future she never chose. When Y/N is promised to Naoya Zenin, her life becomes a political game she never agreed to play. But in the middle of court politics, whispered alliances, and suffocating expectations, she finds safety—and something dangerously close to love—in the last person she ever expected.A union between two people in love, or so the fairy tales insist. Two hearts standing before God—or society—and promising forever. In reality? Most women pray their husband doesn’t raise his hand, his voice, or his expectations too high. That’s the best anyone can hope for.
Marriage.
You’ve never been one of those women.
A union between two people in love, or so the fairy tales insist. Two hearts standing before God—or society—and promising forever. In reality? Most women pray their husband doesn’t raise his hand, his voice, or his expectations too high. That’s the best anyone can hope for.
You’ve never been one of those women. Sure, love sounds nice. Creating memories and spending the rest of your life with someone you love is a great ordeal, but it’s not exactly on your checklist. You have other priorities: reading until your eyes ache, sipping tea with people who don’t drain your soul, attending parties on your own terms, even dabbling in your father’s business when the mood strikes. Marriage? You’ll wait for the right man to be brought to you by fate, God, or just pure coincidence.
It did not help that your parents allowed you to do as you please, even now into your twenties. No pressure to marry, no expectations for you or your siblings to be paired off with some entitled older man or spoiled young sir. Maybe it was the high standing your family held in society. People came to your doorstep, not the other way around.
Your father, the king’s brother, held a duke’s title with the highest standing outside of the crown—save a few renowned religious figures. For your family, the rules were different.
But all good things must end. You just hadn’t expected your end to come first.
Thinking back to that day, you should’ve seen this coming a mile away.
Your uncle spontaneously decided to hold a banquet, to make an announcement. Usually banquets are planned at least with a two week notice, which means the reason that this banquet happened is to show off to other kingdoms the unity of your uncle’s court or deliver possibly devastating or shocking news.
And just like the nobles of your kingdom’s, your family was invited to the palace.
While this is a big deal for most, it is not so much for you and your family. You’d been there countless times—dinners, banquets, tea parties with your female cousins. Your brothers sparred with your male cousins. Your father discussed business with your uncle or daink whatever alcohol your father imported. The palace was like a second home.
So what happened that night made you feel much worse.
Once your father informs the head maid and butler of the event, the staff sprang into action: gowns and suits tailored, hair pinned, the little details perfect.
“Hold still Lady Y/n, inhale just a tad-“one of your maids says as she ties the navy strings of your corset. You remain frozen, inhale just enough to allow her to do so.
“There,” the maid says. You relax a tad as she goes to tending to the last few touches of your hair then your make up, double checking herself to make sure that you look perfect.
“You’re ready, miss.” The maid steps a few feet away from you. Her hands folded in front of her immediately as she awaits for you to look at your reflection.
You turn fully towards the hand carved floor standing mirrors. A smile spreads across your face.
“Thank you Edith.”
Edith nods, walking towards the bedroom door. The door clicks as she opens it, allowing you to exit into the hallway.
The faint sound of your heels hitting the floor echoes until you reach the stairs. You grab the stair rail with your right hand as you carefully descend. The dusting of gems on your navy blue, floor-length gown gleams as it catches the chandelier’s light.
“I hope this doesn’t take long,” one of your brothers, Laurent mutters from the bottom of the stairs. He offers you his arm the deep red suit of his tailored suit catching the light as you descend down the last steps. “I have plans.”
“Plans? You mean sneaking that redhead into your bed?” your sister, who is already standing in the foyer, rolls her eyes as she twirls her plum fan between her fingers.
Laurent’s face flushes, nearly matching his suit.
“Still?” you said incredulously, your eyes flicking to the red-headed maid bustling in the hall. You watch as she, along with other servants complete their night chores before bed. “I thought that was just your defiant stage, like when you cut your hair during puberty.”
As if feeling your eyes on her the maid looks up. She nearly jumps when she notices you, Laurent, and Raya staring at her. She quickly turns away, scampering off to do whatever chores were assigned to her.
Raya snorts. “I remember that. Mom cried so hard, you would’ve thought the doctor told her you had a fatal illness.”
Your eyes flick to Raya. “If mom finds out he’s sleeping with a servant, she may faint this time—” you start to say only for your brother to cut you off.
“Could you say that any louder?” he hisses, eyes darting around the foyer to ensure no one else could hear. “Do you want the entire manor to know?”
“Please. If you cared about being subtle, you wouldn’t have picked the only girl in our manor whose hair screams ‘notice me,’” your sister replies, flipping her hair dramatically. “I swear your lack of discretion is going to send our mother into a spiral and our father into an early stage of going gray and bald.
You giggle. “Remember when you tried to flirt with the ambassador’s daughter and got caught feeding her grapes off your plate?”
“Don’t bring that up,” he groaned. “It’s ancient history.”
“Ancient history?” Your sister asks incredulously. “That was last month!”
“Enough.”
Your eldest brother, Simon’s voice cut in smoothly, making all three of you jump—you hadn’t heard his footsteps. He steps forward, eyes trained on his wrists as he adjusts the cufflinks of his forest-green suit.
“Before our parents or the staff hear,” he added evenly, “and the entire kingdom learns your embarrassing secrets.”
You straightened up, along with Raya. Laurent muttered something under his breath but fell silent when Simon fixed him with a look.
Your parents descend the stairs together.
Your father is wearing dark formal attire tailored to perfection, the kind that spoke of authority rather than extravagance—clean lines, muted embroidery, the subtle weight of a man accustomed to command. His expression was calm, measured, unreadable.
At his side, your mother is radiant. Her gown flowed with effortless grace, rich fabric catching the light as she moves, jewels resting at her throat and wrists like quiet declarations of status. Her smile is serene, practiced, unwavering.
“Let’s go,” your father says
The cool air brushes your face as the servants open the manor doors for all of you. The bright moon hangs proudly in the sky, welcoming you as you all walk across the flagstone path.
Two carriages wait, drivers standing ready. They open the doors to help you, Raya, and Laurent inside, while your parents and Simon take the other.
You should’ve known something was off when Simon sat with your parents instead of your carriage. Unfortunately at the time, you were too preoccupied joking with your siblings to care.
The carriage jolted forward, the horses’ hooves clattering against the flagstone. You leaned back, letting the fabric of your gown settle around you. Raya smooths out her dress, placing her fan in her lap. Laurent sits beside you, resting his hands behind his head in a relax posture.
“I hope the food is good. I’m starving. I spent hours getting ready I couldn’t eat before we left!” Laurent groans
“Make sure you don’t scarf food down like a wild animal. We do have an image to uphold.” Raya says to Laurent
“Yeah, yeah, we must uphold an image because we represent not only Declane Family but the royal family as well.” Laurent groans. “I know! I’ve heard that saying since the day I was born! Probably in the womb with the way our parents spout it.”
The carriage jolts forward again, the horses’ hooves clattering rhythmically against the flagstone. Laurent huffs, leaning back further, and Raya shakes her head, smirking. You glance out the window, letting the moonlight wash over your thoughts.
A comfortable silence settles in, the kind that never lasts long with your family.
“So,” your sister begins, leaning back with her arms crossed, “what do you think today’s banquet will be about? Praising Sebastian? The announcement of Nathaniel’s coronation? Maybe announcing an arranged marriage between one of our cousins and someone else? Or perhaps there’s a diplomat Uncle is trying to impress—or intimidate? We all know we’re only invited when he wants to brag, show a unified front, or needs a favor from Dad.”
“Who knows?” your brother shrugs, relaxing a bit more. “Uncle is always up to something. If it’s not him, it’s our dear Aunt Giselle.” He says sarcastically then smirks. “If that’s the case, us and our dear cousins should sneak off for something a bit more… entertaining,” your brother says, “Whisper rumors, start a little harmless chaos, test who’s paying attention. Maybe convince Sebastian to sneak the fancy wine the Kamo family sent them.”
“Or we can remain in the banquet and see who can insult someone the most without getting caught,” your sister adds, rolling her eyes. “Either way, fun is guaranteed.”
You laugh softly, letting the familiar sound ease some of the tension in your chest. “Yes, because nothing says ‘civilized noble family’ like passive-aggressive toasts and whispered insults.”
Your brother leans back, stretching his arms behind his head. “Honestly, if this banquet ends without someone nearly choking on their wine, I’d be disappointed.”
“Disappointed?” your sister snorts. “You mean entertained?”
“Ah, same difference,” your brother grins mischievously.
You glance out the window as the palace walls drew closer, the moonlight glinting off the towers and courtyards.
The carriage comes to a halt, filing behind carriages belonging to other nobles. Laurent, not waiting for the carriage driver, pushes the door open. He steps out first, holding an arm out for you and Raya. As you two step out of the carriage, you sigh. The ambiance of the palace night relaxes you. “The moon is so pretty.” You say. “I could stare at it all night.”
“Please don’t cite poetry like one of Raya’s suitors” Laurent groans. “I’m still reeling from her last suitor appearing at the garden of our courtyard at the crack of dawn.”
Your sister frowns, glaring at Laurent. They both begin to bicker playfully as you walk beside them, enjoying the peaceful night.
When you all enter the palace, everything seems normal.
The grand doors of the palace open, spilling warm light and the scent of polished wood and candle wax into the entrance hall. Courtiers in finely tailored suits and gowns, their fabrics shimmering under the chandeliers, murmur greetings to one another as they settle into their assigned places. Servants move silently between them, carrying trays of champagne and delicate hors d’oeuvres.
Your family enters last, stepping carefully onto the polished floors. You adjusted the hem of your dark navy-blue gown, the delicate silver embroidery catching the chandelier light, tiny jewels scattered along the threads sparkling faintly with every step. Your father’s charcoal suit, lined with subtle hints of silver that mirrored your dress, contrasted sharply with your mother’s deep wine gown. Simon’s forest green suit and Raya’s plum ensemble complemented Laurent’s deep red with black accents, each piece carefully chosen yet unmistakably individual. The subtle harmony of your family’s colors set you apart from the other nobles, who wore a mixture of golds, pastels, and muted earth tones.
The hall was full of familiar faces—nobles of the court, their spouses, and adult children, all seated at long tables arranged to emphasize hierarchy. Some whisper as your family pass, others offer polite nods or smiles. A few of the clergy were scatter among the crowd, their simple robes contrasting with the grandeur around them, quietly observing the proceedings.
You notice your cousins sitting together. Marianne is quietly observing everyone. Nathaniel radiating that perfect princely about to be King aura. Sebastian and Elias are talking amongst themselves about Lord knows what and Clara is tending to Iris. Behind them, servants adjusted their positions, ensuring glasses were filled and chairs were in place. The ambient chatter of polite conversation hummed like an undertone, punctuated by laughter and the clinking of silverware.
The servants quietly guide you to the long, ornate table that stretches nearly the length of the hall, polished wood gleaming under flickering candlelight. You and your siblings take your seats together, Simon nearest to your father, your mother next to him. Raya and Laurent flanking you, your parents settling across from you.
Nobles sit after you and your family take your seats. They murmur politely, greeting you as if it had been ages. A few even mention planning future evens but it is short lived when your uncle clinks his glass.
Your uncle rises smoothly, clearing his throat. The room falls silent. “Welcome,” he begins, his voice even, commanding, and measured. “Tonight we celebrate the unity of our family and the prosperity of our kingdom. Let us enjoy this evening in the company of friends, relatives, and allies alike.”
Your uncle sits back down. A few nobles murmur polite acknowledgments as the servants file out of the kitchen, placing dishes in front of every person seated at the table.
Laurent’s eyes light up at the sight. His stomach growls, reminding him that he hasn’t eaten since breakfast. He’s just about to scarf everything within reach when he notices your mother’s look.
He freezes. Then smiles sheepishly, adjusting his posture as he eats like a civilized man instead of a starved one.
Sebastian snickers quietly, earning a sharp glance from your aunt.
“You got in trouble,” Laurent mouths.
“Fuck off,” Sebastian mouths back, a vein popping at his temple. The two glare at each other—you swear you can practically see sparks flying between them.
While Laurent and Sebastian engage in their silent standoff, Raya continues eating calmly, her etiquette flawless, all while listening to Marianne gush about some novel she’s been reading.
Elias, of course, notices.
He leans back slightly, a sly smirk tugging at his lips. “I must say, Raya… your poise and grace never fail to impress. It’s remarkable. Perhaps a man like the ones from those stories you and my sister adore will marry you after all—despite your prudish nature.”
Raya’s eyes flick up to him, sharp and entirely unimpressed. “Says the man who got rejected despite being a prince,” she shoots back, reaching for her wine glass. “Those fancy etiquette classes weren’t enough to teach you how to convince a women to marry you?”
A faint ripple of suppressed chuckles runs through a few who heard the conversation including you, Marianne, and even Clara—who is trying very hard to focus on Iris and keep her from staining her ivory dress instead of laughing.
Laurent who happened to overhear that despite glaring at Sebastian nearly chokes on his food from laughing. He quickly grabs a glass of wine to drink it down.
Elias’ smirk falters just slightly, though he recovers quickly, refusing to let her have the last word so easily.
Raya leans back, wine glass held delicately in hand, her smirk perfectly matching his—as if daring him to continue the verbal duel.
As your cousins and siblings continue their quiet chaos, a young man seated not too many seats away turns his attention toward you. He offers a polite smile first to your family, then to you.
“Your family is just as lovely as the rumors say,” he remarks.
You hum softly, amused. “They’re certainly entertaining. There’s never a dull day with them.”
He chuckles. “It must be nice—being surrounded by so much warmth despite your differences. Most families I know can barely tolerate one another. Always at each other’s throats.”
“Oh, we are too,” you admit lightly. “We simply argue it out, then go right back to being family afterward.”
Something in your answer seems to please him. His gaze lingers, thoughtful, almost admiring.
“I think that says a lot about you,” he says. “Anyone who can thrive in that kind of chaos and still smile must be… remarkable.”
You laugh quietly, warmth creeping into your cheeks despite yourself. The conversation flows easily after that—compliments slipped in between observations, his tone flirtatious without being crude. He makes you giggle once, then again, until you catch your mother’s knowing glance from across the table.
You blink at her, trying to silently convey ‘no—this isn’t a potential marriage proposal. I’m just being friendly’. Unfortunately for you, your mother only smiles, entirely unconvinced, lifting a glass of wine to her lips.
So focused on her reaction, you fail to notice another gaze lingering on you.
Your uncle is watching too.
Your uncle sets his wine glass down with deliberate care, silencing the soft clatter of cutlery and conversation. Everyone’s attention shifts towards him, waiting for him to speak. His gaze sweeps across the table before settling on you, calm, controlled, unreadable.
Your uncle clears his throat, lifting his goblet slightly as though proposing a toast. The sound is small, but it commands the table all the same.
“I want to thank you all for attending this banquet tonight,” your uncle begins, his voice carrying easily across the table.
“Not like we had a choice—ow,” Sebastian hisses, after earning a sharp pinch from Clara.
“This banquet is a reminder of unity,” your uncle continues. “Of duty. Of the responsibilities that come with legacy—and of what the next generation must represent.”
His gaze sweeps the table—measured, assessing.
“Time has a way of stealing childhood from us,” he says lightly. “I see it when I look at my nieces and nephews. Each of you has grown into your role, whether you realized it or not.”
His eyes land on Simon.
“Trade. Negotiation. Reliability,” he says. “You reflect your father well.”
Raya receives a nod next. “Languages. Diplomacy. Grace.”
Then Laurent.
“Strength,” your uncle says, pausing just long enough. “And potential—when properly guided.”
Each word feels weighed. Chosen.
“Nathaniel,” he continues. “Composure. Loyalty.”
Clara is praised for discernment. Elias for ambition. Marianne for observation. Iris is spared the scrutiny altogether.
Then—
“And you, Y/N.”
The room seems to still.
“You possess a sharp mind for trade,” your uncle says calmly. “An uncommon aptitude for languages. And a temperament suited for navigating… complex arrangements.”
Your father glances at you. Pride, unmistakable. But there is unease hidden in his eyes.
“I only try to be useful,” you say carefully.
Your uncle nods once. “Exactly.”
He lifts his goblet, takes a slow sip, then sets it down with deliberate precision.
“That usefulness,” he says evenly, “has made tonight’s decision a simple one.”
The word settles over the table like a verdict.
Decision.
Your smile falters as your eyes flick to your parents then back to your uncle.
“Decision?” you ask, voice light with curiosity. The rest of the tables seem curious as well hanging onto the conversation by a thread.
Your father stiffens, his head turns slowly to your uncle.
Not in surprise—in recognition.
His gaze locks onto your uncle, sharp and searching, as if silently telling him something neither of them needs to voice.
‘You’re not going to do this. Not like this.’
But your uncle refuses to meet your father’s eyes, instead his focus remains on you.
To most people at the table, it goes unnoticed , but more observant people like your mother, it screams volumes
“Thaddeus, what are -“ your mother calls your uncles name, only to be cut off by your uncle.
Your uncle continues smoothly, as if nothing has shifted.
“Peace is not maintained by sentiment,” he says calmly. “It is preserved through foresight. Through alliances made before necessity turns into crisis. Our kingdom has stood for centuries because we have never hesitated to act when stability demanded it.”
People nod.
They always nod.
Your father does not.
Nor do you and your mother.
“After careful consideration, it has been decided that my niece, Y/N, will enter a formal engagement.”
Your smile falls instantly.
Whispers ripple down the length of the table—soft, startled, disbelieving. A few voices you recognize. Family. Cousins. People who were never meant to learn like this. But the sound barely reaches you. Your thoughts stall, suspended somewhere between confusion and dread.
The next words will echo in your mind long after tonight.
“With a son from the Zenin Family… Naoya Zenin.”
Silence crashes over the room.
Not the polite kind. Not the expectant hush before applause. This silence is heavy, suffocating—every breath suddenly too loud, every movement frozen mid-gesture. Goblets hover inches from lips. Cutlery rests untouched against porcelain. Even the chandeliers seem to hold their light a little steadier, as if the palace itself is listening.
No one could speak. It is as if the King’s spontaneous announcement snatched their voices away. All they could do is gape at their ruler, then slowly turning in your direction. You do not have to look at them to see the shock or curiosity on their faces, not that you cared to. Your mind is reeling from the words he uttered to maintain your usual composure.
Your voice breaks through it—small, raw, utterly out of place in a room built for ceremony.
Synopsis . Car breaking down and lost in the middle of nowhere with an axe wielding maniac on the loose? No fun. Good thing a sweet, kind lumberjack offers to put you up for the night. He's beefy, brawny, and such a gentleman. You'll be safe with Nanami, won't you? (based off of a nonnie req)
Pairing . lumberjack!nanami x slightly bimbo!reader / Content . afab!reader, fear play, getting chased through the woods, exhibitionism, a hint of pervy!reader but hes highkey into it, choking, spanking, nipple play, the ripping of clothing, dirty talk, lots of pussy slapping, he puts you in a headlock, slight size kink, lots of teasing, flirting, thigh fucking, rough sex, a hint of fluff if you squint, nanami's a sweetheart at first then he’s absolutely feral, pet names, etc . / wc . 9.4k
A/N: Disclaimer: Please do NOT do anything the reader does in this fic, irl, LMAOOO. All events are for story purposes only, pls stay safe out there! Banner from "Hachisuka's Family Kotoribako" (Kinktober Masterlist.) [MDNI]
Most people think at least once or twice before following a complete stranger off to their home, especially out in the middle of the woods.
You? You don’t even entertain the thought of danger when the tall hunk of a man that is Nanami Kento offers you a place to stay for the night. He was just being nice, you’d told yourself. Anyone would provide something like that after finding you stranded with your car all broken down!
Does that explain why you don’t bat an eye at the red-stained axe propped outside his front porch upon arrival? Or the newspaper sitting on his coffee table that quite literally mentioned an axe-wielding maniac on the loose? Or the fact that he fit the description of said maniac to the tee?
Nope.
And is that why you end up running through the woods the following morning in hopes of finding your vehicle before he finds you?
Well, yes.
————
It was late in the afternoon when Nanami found you.
At first glance, he immediately knew you were a bit of a ditz. No woman with good sense had any business bending over into the hood of her vehicle—trying to figure out what was wrong with it—in the middle of the goddamn forest like that.
The road he spotted you on was one of those back roads that was tucked deep off into the forest. People typically only came out here for one of three things.
One—the most common—to avoid traffic. Two, to get to the woodland resort that was just a few miles out from there. And three, they happened to be locals with cabins tucked off in all different corners of the surrounding forest.
You did not appear to be any of the three.
You were scouring around the open hood of your car and Nanami's first sight of you consisted of the loveliest view of your ass. Bent over all oblivious to his greedy eyes, his first honest impression of you is that you didn't exactly have the best spatial awareness… if any at all.
Leaves crunched between the heavy soles of his boots as he approached you and your car, and it almost worried him how painfully unaware you were. "Miss?" Nanami called out to you, amused by the way you yelped in surprise and nearly hit your head trying to pull yourself away from the open hood.
Your head angles back and as soon as the two of you made eye contact, he should’ve put you on his kill list.
Why? Because he’s so ridiculously bound to be a gentleman the moment he meets those pretty eyes of yours and he knows it. You looked all startled by him, yet still had the nerve to size him up and down completely unashamed.
Nanami was a tall, brawny man whose body was just begging to be freed from the fabric of all his too-tight clothing.
He had on one of those signature red and black flannels, but its cloth did little to conceal the muscles that bulged beneath. The center of his shirt was unbuttoned just enough for you to get a peek of his toned chest, all beefy and just… broad with light tuffs of blond hair decorating the exposed skin. His sleeves were bundled up at his forearms, and adorning his hips were a pair of tanned slacks and a thick brown belt.
Phew, you couldn’t stop ogling him at first and nearly forgot to warrant him with a response. Forcing your eyes back up to his stoic, yet kind expression, you flash a sweet smile, “Sir?”
His voice leaves him all honeyed and husky in a way that has you stepping away from your car and your spine stiffening a little. “You look like you could use some help there,” He points out obviously with a slight tip of his head toward your currently dysfunctional vehicle.
The sun was rapidly making its descent and this really wasn’t the place for you to be having car trouble. Nanami considers you rather lucky he ran into you and not anyone else—this area was anything but safe for a woman such as yourself.
“I could actually!” You chime with this bubbliness that makes him thankful that he’s the one to have found you again. “My car just gave out on me all of a sudden and I’m really not sure why,” You go on to explain but, he’s hardly focused on what’s coming out of your mouth.
He’s much too busy staring at the way words leave your lips and that glistening gloss you’ve got coating them right now. Nanami swears to himself he’s usually not this easily distracted but something about you was making his brain wire itself a little differently.
Eventually, while you’re still rambling about how you were trying to make your way back to the highway and seemed to take a wrong turn onto this creepy back road, Nanami merely cocks his head to the side and looks down to spot what’s causing you all this trouble.
Yapping his ear off with not a clue in the world, “...And then I almost hit a deer a few miles back, which scared the shit out of–”
“Sweetheart,” He cuts off gently with a small grin on his face, fawn brown eyes flocking up to your expression slowly, “You’ve got a flat tire.” He tells you as he lazily lifts a hand to point at your front left tire that, surely enough, is flattened beyond belief.
“Ohhhh,” You chime with a roll of your eyes, “Y’know, that makes a lot more sense. I didn’t even look down there.” You’re turning around to inspect the tire now, noticing that it seems as though you’d run over something sharp, “Huh. There’s a big hole in it and everything…”
Nanami fights the urge to chuckle as he makes his way over to you and leans down to inspect the flattened tire alongside you. “...You didn’t hear or feel anything when your car ‘gave out’ on you?” He asks carefully, raising a brow your way.
You go to shaking your head, “No, not at all! Whatever it is I ran over, I must’ve done so a while ago because I’d been driving just fine for quite some time prior to me pulling over here..”
He waves off your words and then leans back up with a smooth click of his tongue, “Ah, I see. You have a spare, right?”
“A spare tire?” You repeat thoughtlessly before looking off in embarrassment as he nods. “About that…”
And while you start giving him a million and one reasons as to why you’re traveling alone in the woods with no emergency spare tire or any means of protection, Nanami finds himself all the more concerned for your safety. The conversation mostly consists of him trying not to give you judgy eyes, but it’s a bit difficult when you were by far the most carefree person he’d ever met.
Thus leading him to glance off and notice how dark it’s getting, “Listen, as much as I would love to sit here and listen to your uh… adventures, the sun is setting and I don’t feel too comfortable leaving you all alone here like this.”
You blink once-, twice as you quickly realize he has a point. Your gaze travels to the area surrounding the two of you, and it only then dawns on you that this man kinda just appeared out of nowhere, since he didn’t seem to have a car of his own anywhere nearby. There’s nothing but tall, leafless trees and a steadily darkening forest around the two of you.
Hell, even you weren’t going to be too comfortable sitting in your car until sunrise…
“I have a spare tire you could borrow back at my cabin,” Nanami offers all of a sudden, gesturing back into the presumed direction of his place. “Though, I can’t help you while it’s dark out and uh,” He pauses to look at you up and down, fighting his smile once again. “I doubt you’d want to follow a stranger like me off into the–”
“Okay,” You cut off suddenly enough to leave him surprised. You didn’t care too much that he was a stranger, and although you definitely showed signs of not being able to defend yourself whatsoever, you had the means to do so if it really came down to that—especially now that he’d shown he’s fallen for that rather misleading ditzy persona of yours.
Truth be told, you did have a spare tire in your trunk. You weren’t that careless.
But you also didn’t want to sleep in your car tonight, especially not alone in the middle of buttfuck nowhere. Nanami seemed kind enough, despite emerging from the woods just to offer you some help and being a complete stranger to you…
But hey, at least he was a hot stranger, right?
————
And that’s exactly how you end up following him into the woods toward that ‘cabin’ of his. He’d given you his name—first and last—but you were rather insistent on being polite and calling him by the last. The walk to his place took about fifteen minutes, which left you relieved because that meant your car wasn’t too far away.
It also explained how he found you, considering he’s not too distant. Nanami was also very open and talkative during that walk of yours and explained that he used to be a businessman but decided he needed a slice of quiet and tucked off into the forest a few years ago to be a lumberjack. Which explained that physique of his.
Fallen leaves crumpled and crunched beneath both of your feet as you two walked the dirt path toward his place and upon arrival, the very first thing you noticed was an old red axe lodged neatly into a piece of wood on his front porch as he guided you up.
Nanami was in the midst of telling you some of his woodland adventures—as if to reciprocate what you’d told him about your road trip so far—before you stopped and stared rather openly at the tool.
He was opening his front door for you before he noticed where your eyes had landed, and he offered you a gentlemanly smile, “That’s my little money maker right there.” He says to hopefully make up for any awkwardness.
You nod, “Yeah?” and he starts telling you about his axe and how he’s had it for years and years, yet all you could focus on was the dried red sitting at the blade’s edges—a shade of which did not match the red paint of the tool and was also located where a silver color sat beneath. Huh, interesting, you’d thought.
And when Nanami made an effort to explain how some bears and other wild animals frequent this forest quite often, you figure that’s where the blood came from.
Not that he ever explicitly confirms that, though.
As he resumes his talk of what it’s like to be a lumberjack, he kindly walks you into his home—holding the door open and letting you enter first—before offering you a short tour. It was clear he wanted to make you nice and comfortable, considering he was still a stranger to you.
You agreed to the tour and made sure to take in every detail of his home just in case anything were to happen. You’d check your phone every time his eyes left you, making sure it was nicely charged and that you had some sort of service.
Thankfully, this wasn’t one of those horror-type plots, so you were actually perfect in terms of service. Y’know, after he offered and then gave you his cabin’s wifi…
He then showed you around that spotless kitchen and living room of his, in which you just so happened to notice a news article sitting on the coffee table while he told you the nearest town was at least a mile away and filled with unfriendly locals.
You ended up plucking the article from its spot to skim over it curiously as he spoke and told you stories of his bad experience with the people of the town.
Lots of missing person reports were in that article, along with a story about an axe-wielding maniac who was suspected to be the cause of said missing people. Nanami watched you read and send him a few skeptical glances, but considering how you didn’t say anything, he figured you didn’t suspect him.
He’s not the only lumberjack around, after all. That maniac could’ve been anyone.
As the tour soon concluded, Nanami showed you to a guest bedroom to sleep in for the night. The bathroom—along with his bedroom—was just down the hall and he told you not to be too shy to ask him for anything.
See? Simple.
Surely if he were crazy and wanted to kill you, he would’ve shown signs by now or made some attempt at doing so. Instead, Nanami did nothing but be a handsome host for you and even invited you into his living room to sit down and eat dinner with him.
Outside of being a sexy lumberjack, Nanami was also a fine cook.
You’re now sitting on the comforting stretch of his leather couch, a half-eaten warm plate of food in hand, and a steady draft of warmth that stems from the fireplace he’s so kindly lit for you. The cabin’s air was coated in thick scents of cedar and that homey-smoke, everything around you oh-so-meticulously placed. You distantly considered in your mind how everything was a bit too clean for a man who lived so far from town.
Shrugging it off, you were quick to remind yourself that this was okay. He was okay, despite that little article you kept taking a peek at…
There's a subtle, quiet movement somewhere behind you before Nanami comes into view and sets a softly steaming mug on the coffee table in front of you, “This isn’t too much for you, is it?” He asks, voice smooth, velvety even.
You glance up at him and find yourself admiring the way the warm light from the nearby flames catches against his chiseled face. A man like this really had no business being single and alone like this, he was visibly perfect. “This is just fine, thank you.” You manage as you set your plate down and then bring the warm mug into your cooler palms.
Nanami breaks out a smile, that gentle and polite one he’s sent your way one too many times since he’d run into you. It was the kind of expression that made your heart feel warm and safe. Catching something in your gaze, he lets off a slight sigh as he sits himself down in the nearby armchair, “You’re lucky, y’know.” He hums, large frame easing into his seat as he speaks. “This area isn’t exactly the safest for ‘outsiders’.”
Between your careful sips on the warm cocoa he’d made you—that’s oddly crafted to utter flawlessness—you look off in thought before chiming, “Outsiders? Is that what those locals that don’t like you call people like me?”
He never seems to let his gaze stray away from you, “Oh, they call me that too. That’s how I know it’s not too safe out here. I can only imagine what would’ve happened if one of them found you and not me.”
You chuckle, “So, those missing person reports…” You begin, gesturing toward the stack of articles, “You think the townsfolk made those stories up and pinned them on…” The word ‘you’ rested on the tip of your tongue but, you quickly swallowed it down. “One of the lumberjacks out here to mislead people?”
“And keep people scared, yes,” Nanami answers promptly. “It is October after all. If you look at the dates on all those reports, they’re rather recent. I feel as though it’s a seasonal thing they do for the spirit of this spooky month.”
A town of people who make up missing person reports for the month of Halloween? How peculiar. You’d never heard anything quite like that. You shrug it off, though. There’s a town of oddities everywhere, right? This was no different.
As the small talk dissipates, the fire’s low crackles swallow up the atmosphere and it felt as though time were slowing down. You’d never felt so… at ease around a complete stranger like this before. Nanami’s just as quiet as you are now, as if to let both of your thoughts mingle about and carry through the silence.
The wind outside seems to be picking up a bit, lightly clashing against the large cabin windows as you two sit and enjoy one another’s presence. You sip on your seasonal beverage until the mug is light in your hand, your taste buds satisfied, and your stomach full—two things that completely contrast how you thought you’d end up spending your night just a few hours ago.
Before you bid Nanami goodnight and head off to the guest bedroom, you sit there and start taking in the details of his home again. You were growing increasingly aware of how unnervingly faultless everything was. Tucked into a corner was a tall bookshelf lined with literature of all sorts, the spines aligned and rather dustless.
Even the fireplace a few feet in front of you was gorgeously untouched and yet polished. The neatness of Nanami’s cabin was feeling less and less like mere tidiness and more like some sort of strange control.
But hey, perhaps you were looking too deeply into everything. He’s just a very particular man. Nothing weird about that, right?
When the two of you finally parted ways for the night, Nanami took your dishes off into his kitchen and wished you a good night. Aside from the easing running of water as he washed your plate and mug, the only sounds to travel throughout his cabin now were your footsteps toward your room for the night.
By the time you entered said room, you’d come to the same reasoning that—just because the description in the article you read, and even talked about, earlier said the suspect was a six-foot-tall blond man with brown eyes—Nanami was in no way the killer.
————
With the night carrying on ever-so-smoothly without a hitch, you actually end up finding yourself unable to sleep.
The moonlight acts as the only sort of illumination all throughout the man’s house, and you quickly realize that once you slip out of the guest bedroom and tiptoe down the hall towards the bathroom. You weren’t quite sure what was keeping you up, but you hoped using the bathroom would help you figure it out.
That, and you used your trip to the bathroom as an excuse to explore the cabin a little more on your own. It was quite cozy all around and the wood hardly creaked beneath your light steps whilst you paced about. Considering only one, unmarried man lives out here alone… you really couldn’t help the impending suspicion that continued to rise within you as you explored his house.
Nothing was out of place and half of the furniture seemed as though it was rarely touched, if even at all.
As you stop by the kitchen for a glass of water, the cleanliness of Nanami’s cabin seems to stand out even more. Every glass within the cabinets was so perfectly placed that it was nearly uncanny. No dust sat on anything, not even the glasses in the very back.
You shrug it off. Maybe you were being too anal about things again.
Or at least, that’s what you thought before you began to notice other peculiarities as you sipped your fresh glass of water. Everything was painfully squeaky clean.
The large windows that decorated the majority of the cabin’s walls? So spotless the moonlight was elegantly pouring in onto the almost reflective wooden floors. The counters? Also spotless. Every cabin and handle? Guess what? Spotless.
There was a very faint scent of recently used cleaning products so, in your head, you deduced that Nanami was some sort of clean freak.
Once you finish up with your water and finally make that trip to the bathroom, you’ve still got all these questions raging war in your mind.
Say he was that axe-wielding maniac from the article… Did he really kidnap and murder all those people? Did he have a reason for it? Was it because of the town’s unfriendliness? Were you his next victim..?
No, no, Nanami had been way too nice and open with you for any of those things to be true. Plus, he told you the townsfolk probably made those articles up for the Halloween spirit.
Yeah, that reality’s a lot easier for you to digest.
But if you’re being fully honest with yourself… as long as he doesn’t plan to kill you, you don’t think you mind the alternative and more likely reality of him being the killer. At least he was hot, right?
And he was nice to you.
That’s a lot better than you could say about the guys you’ve dealt with back home.
You’re washing and drying your hands now, hoping to return to bed and make a second attempt at sleep. The man was kind enough to let you stay the night, and here you were mentally accusing him of being a murderer when he hadn’t even done anything–
As soon as you walk out of the bathroom, you walk face-first into something that feels like a brick wall, hands shooting up to brace yourself, and a soft huff exiting your throat. When you look up, you’re met with your host’s slightly surprised expression.
His sturdy hands are on your arms, holding you after you’d so carelessly walked into him—even though he was standing right in front of the bathroom door and didn’t really give you room to do anything else…
“Ah, sorry, Nanami,” You chime softly, voice filling the quiet of the stiff hallway surrounding the two of you, “Wasn’t expecting to run into you like this.”
His gaze is delicate as it sets down on you, “You’re quite alright, darling.” Nanami voices attentively before his head weighs to the side, “Was this just a trip to the bathroom, or could you not sleep as well?”
You grin, “I’d say a bit of both, but mainly the first thing. I’m gonna try to get some rest now, though.” Your explanation comes out rather quickly, and you’re unintentionally awkward as you break yourself away from his light grasp, turning elsewhere. “Night, Nanami.”
“Goodnight,” He replies with a slight smile on his face.
He turns to the bathroom ahead but finds himself pausing to watch you walk down the hall. Your footsteps are careful, he notices. Though he’s not sure why that sticks out to him. He had no intentions of…
Shaking the unfinished thought away, the blond clears his throat, “Actually, wait. Before you go,” You stop promptly—almost as if hoping for him to say something—and then swivel around at the sound of his voice, catching his eyes under the dim lighting from the rather full moon outside. “I’m curious.”
A brow of yours shoots up, “About?”
Nanami’s eyes are calculated on your slightly distanced frame, wonder swirling within his pupils. You were just as much a stranger to him as he was to you and yet, here you stood in his home hours past midnight… wearing a shirt he lent you to sleep in, no less.
You had to lack shame. There was no other explanation for it. Why else would a woman do the things you were doing like this? It’s like you wanted to make his hobby easy for him…
With the left corner of his lips twitching as he fights off a knowing smirk, Nanami’s voice smoothes into the air all honeyed and low, “Do you follow strange men into their homes like this often?” He asks.
You merely snort, “You’re not strange.”
As if that answered his question…
“You don’t know that,” He warns carefully, foot shifting on the floor to angle his body so that he’s facing you. You still stood a few feet away from him, a distance in which he was fine with.
…For now.
“You’re right, I don’t,” You soon agree, to which his brows shoot up in surprise. “But, no, I don’t do this often.” Your answer makes him sigh in relief. It was good to hear that you weren’t always this careless.
Nanami’s hands slip into the pockets of his sweatpants. He wasn’t wearing much more than you—a simple white tee and some grey sweats, his usual nightwear—and yet he still caught the way you were drinking him up, as if the lack of bright lighting was supposed to conceal the way your eyes roamed and then lingered in all the right places and more.
His reading glasses sit low on the bridge of his nose and you two make direct visual contact as his chin dips down a bit and the frames slip just enough to reveal those chestnut-shaded eyes of his. “May I ask what made me so different then?” His voice was rich and sweet enough to make you dizzy if you listened to it long enough.
“Hmm..” You hum in faux thought, despite having the answer clear in your head. “I dunno, maybe because you’re hot.” You explain honestly.
Nanami smiles to himself at the sound of that. He truly did admire your lack of shame as time went on, “You willingly allowed yourself to stay the night at a stranger’s just because you find them attractive?”
You’re chuckling and he’s taking the slightest step closer. “Well, yes.” You reply.
To which the man lets out a scolding little scoff, “That’s quite careless, y’know.” He warns once more, growing nearer.
You don’t fight the distance. If anything, you quite welcome it. Especially with the way you gradually shift closer. It was as though both of you had some sort of silent understanding that there was way too much space between you for all the tension that was building.
Even though the tension in question was building toward two different things.
You wanted to get a piece of the man and he… well, he wanted the same thing but in a different way.
“Nanami,” You purr, hearing the wood faintly creak beneath his slow steps.
His smile has yet to fade and his energy is just so enticing at the moment that you feel lulled into him. It was like he’d put you under a vocal spell with that soothing tone of his, “I’ve told you, you can call me Kento.”
You release a sigh, “Listen, I’d rather be in here with a ‘stranger’—who I’ve gotten to know fairly well thus far—than out there sleeping in my car alone.”
Nanami’s walking comes to a stop once you’re in arm's reach and his voice is a little scary as he whispers, “You’re alone with a stranger though.”
Feigning not to see the danger you may now be in, “What’s your point?” You ask softly.
His gaze drags across your face and he fully intends to coax more of that frightened expression out of you as he murmurs, “We’re far enough away from town where no one could hear you scream, does that not concern you?”
You merely bat your lashes all innocently up at the man and the gesture is making his heart clench within his chest tightly. Then, you have the audacity to lean forward and lift a single finger up to his chest to poke him. Smiling, “No one could hear me scream out here?” You repeat.
Just to confirm, of course.
Nanami fights the furrow in his brows and instead looks down at the finger you hand pressing into his chest before breathing out a heavy, “No.”
A beat or two pass between you both and he hardly gets the chance to blink before you’re slithering yourself up close—too close—and looking directly at his expression to watch for his reaction as you ask, “Doesn’t that mean if we were to fuck, I could be as loud as I want?”
You practically watch his breath get tangled in the center of his throat and get a lucky feel of his heart skipping a beat beneath your finger. Of all things you could have said to him, of all ways you would have interpreted his truly harmless threats, that was nowhere near what he expected you to say.
Hence why his voice wavers a little as he chokes, “Pardon?”
Nanami’s eyes flick up to yours and he gulps thickly at the way you’re peering at him now.
“I said, if we fucked—like in here or even outside—I could be as loud as I want,” You repeat shamelessly with a few purposefully innocent bats of your lashes. “Right?”
The next delicious little thing you earn from him is a short scoff, as if he’s not just surprised but utterly bewildered by you. Here he was considering making you his next victim to chop up and the whole time you wanted to… get into his pants??
A sudden smirk dawns across his sharp features and he leans down to your ear, “Is that what you followed me out here for?” He questions low enough to have your body hot with anticipation. Then, before you could quite answer and as if you needed the clarification, his lips brush against your skin, “My cock?”
And there it was, that dizzying feeling again. It was one thing to hear his baritone travel across the hallway and caress your ears but to have his breath and thickly aroused voice against the crown of your ear was something else entirely.
Your lashes are fluttering for real now and you’re finally pulling away to create a little bit of distance, bashfully looking down to the ground, “Well, when you put it like that, you make me sound like some kinda pervert.”
Nanami watches how shy you become and he feels as though he’s hardly holding back now, “I have reason to believe you are.” Lord knows killing you was now the last thing on his mind.
You’d just saved yourself by turning him on and you hadn’t the slightest clue. Hell, if anything, you had the nerve to grow shy about it.
Cute.
It takes you a moment to collect yourself and the moment your eyes meet his again, you can feel the lust hanging between the two of you. “Is that a bad thing?” You murmur.
“No…” Nanami replies rather quickly, contrasting the firmness of his tone. Then he cocks his head to the side and finally allows his brows to meet slightly, “But, what am I meant to do with you now? Hm?”
“Whatever you want,” Comes spilling past your lips almost too eagerly, even for yourself.
He feels the painfully prominent twitch of his cock as your words ring out into the air and his mind was straying further and further from that gentlemanly approach he was so desperately trying to keep with you. “Careful, sweetheart.” Nanami advises, “You still don’t really know me.”
You appear to be amused by that, given the way you smile, “We can get to know each other in a few different ways.”
His voice is hardly restrained at this point, etching deeper into something husky, “Yeah?”
“Mhm,” You hum ever so innocently.
His eyes narrow down on you, “And how do you suggest we do that this late into the night?”
……
You had one suggestion.
But, it was less of a suggestion and more of a request.
Chase me through the woods, you’d said. Now your feet were burning against the uneven dirt below your rushed footsteps.
Sure, he agreed. And now you felt as though you’d run into him at any given moment now.
Before you even exited the house, Nanami mentioned that if you make it to your car before he finds you, it’d be best that you went ahead and left. When you asked him why, he told you, “You won’t be able to handle what finds you.”
Does that later turn out to be true? Maybe. But did you care in the moment? Of course not, you just got a hot stranger to agree to chase you through the woods! One of your darkest fantasies was coming to life and you couldn’t be happier.
But, you had to pretend like it wasn’t exactly what you’d been wanting since the moment he saw you bent into the hood of your car. This totally wasn’t the reason you’d been so bold with him and you definitely don’t want him to find you now.
A few more pieces of information had been shared between the two of you before you went running. Apparently, Nanami went out and fixed your car while you were holed up in the guest bedroom—even though he told you earlier that he couldn’t work in the dark.
The two of you also agreed that if he finds you before you find your car, he’s going to fuck you. The last thing he wanted to do was anything without your consent.
Even a murderer like him had morals! For you, at least.
The only thing Nanami didn’t tell you was that the car he fixed? Yeah, it’s actually not in the spot you left it in.
You don’t realize that until you get there.
————
You’re a bit out of breath after running for the past few minutes or so but, you’re actually glad to see that your car is nowhere to be found.
Concerned? Sure. But at least this meant you didn’t have to leave just yet.
The only thing about this little arrangement that brought you true concern was how you knew he was somewhere in the woods hunting for you right now. The thought alone sends a chill down your spine, especially as you glance back in the direction you came and notice just how dark the forest is where the moon can’t quite reach.
You swallow thickly and turn away to think. You didn’t really need to hide if you wanted him to fuck you, right?
Nah, if you don’t hide, that’d take away all the fun!
Y’know, the same “fun” that quickly dies when you hear a twig snapping in the distance. Your heart decides to sink straight down into your ass and you nearly let out a sound of surprise. Luckily enough for you, your hand was over your mouth almost instinctively. Then your feet were moving on their own to try and duck behind the nearest and biggest tree you could find.
There’s no way he caught up to you that fast, right?
The surrounding forest is eerily quiet and you feel as though you should be able to hear him coming if that snapping branch was really him…
If anything, if it wasn’t him you think that’d scare you a whole lot more. After all, there is a murderer on the loose.
You didn’t quite consider that before now. What if the killer finds you before Nanami does? What if you died out here because you were too busy trying to get screwed against some tree by a complete stranger?
Imagine that on your headstone: stupid girl gets brutally dismembered in woods after being found by the known axe-maniac while waiting for some stranger to come fuck her.
Now your eyes were squeezing shut and your back was hugging the stiff tree behind you.
All your senses were quickly growing more alert as the seconds chipped away and suddenly, this wasn’t just a cute lil’ thing you decided to do anymore. You were surrounded by the unknown, covered in the darkness of shadows that cast over you where the moonlight couldn’t lay its delicate glow upon, and slowly growing more and more scared.
Anyone or anything could find you out here before Nanami did. The slightest shift of leaves on the ground just a few inches away from you, where wind gusts over, made your skin jump and you found yourself flinching at every little thing.
The gulp you take is thick with nerves, eyes flashing from one place to another as you try to catch the every adjustment of any and all nearby shades of night. The wood behind you pricks at your skin through the fabric of Nanami’s shirt that you’re still clad in, your back only pressing up against it more as if to merge into the tree itself, and the cool night air caresses the exposed skin of your legs below your shorts.
There was a knot in your stomach now and you were getting antsy for Nanami to hurry up and find you. At least in his arms you’d feel a lot safer than you do right now, all alone in the forest like an idiot. The minutes stretched on and it’s not long before you start debating resuming the search for your vehicle.
Perhaps getting into it and driving away wasn’t such a bad idea after all…
Especially considering the way Nanami sucks at locating you. You left his cabin over twenty minutes ago and have been hiding behind the same tree for the past six or seven, surely he should have found you by now, since he knows these woods so well.
Yet there you stood, growing colder under the night’s chilled air and worrying for your safety for the first time since you’d been stranded. Hell, you almost started to regret this whole—
The sound of a sharp thwack into the very thick wood you were hiding behind captures your attention. Followed by the words, “Found you,” being heaved out into the quiet air, warm breath smacking against your ear and making you flinch so hard it was like you left your own flesh for a moment.
If you weren’t scared shitless before, you damn sure were now.
You instinctively lurch your body forward in a pathetic attempt to escape, but then there’s a grasp on your hair and your whole frame is jerked back. “Don’t fucking run from me, we have a deal, remember?”
You stumble back against Nanami’s beefy chest as he snatches you back toward him and your breath catches in your throat, cunt throbbing already in… fear? arousal? Something in between—like scarousal—perhaps. Gasping, “Nanami I-“
He’s cutting you off by moving a hand to your jaw and forcing you to angle it back so you can meet his now brooding brown eyes. The gentleman you swore you once knew seems to be gone with the way he was looking at you now as if he wanted to eat you alive.
One of his fingers slips up against your expression just to push past your pretty, slightly drooling lips and spread them against the pad of his thumb. “If you don’t want this anymore, say that, and I’ll stop,” He utters hotly.
Your lashes flutter and you let him press that thumb of his all the way into your mouth, sucking on it like some slut before you actually fix your lips to answer him, “I still want it.”
The fear you had previously has been completely replaced by your own whorish arousal and you reveled in the way he treats you. Nanami grunts, “Then don’t run from it.”
“I didn’t mean to, I just-“
“Shut up,” The man all but groans before tipping your head all the way back so he can press his lips down into yours.
He kisses you hungrily as if he’d been waiting to do so from the moment he’d set eyes on you. Fuck, this was bad. He’s supposed to have gotten rid of you by now and yet here he is, tugging at your clothes to get a feel of you, tonguing your down, and swallowing up your every whine.
The fact that you asked him to do this whole thing was what really drove him insane. He can’t help but be rough with the way he handles you, shoving you forward a bit so that he could be the one between your body and the tree you so poorly hid behind.
His hand had left your face and your head angled a bit more so the kiss could continue while his grip greedily cupped your tits into his big hands. You were melting against his every touch, moaning into his mouth, and then bucking your ass back against his crotch.
The moment his cock is felt through the thick fabric of his jeans, you gasp, “Nanami-“
“Kento,” He corrects swiftly, two fingers shifting against your breasts just to give your nipples a mean pinch. “Say my name while I fuck you, got it?” He commands heavily.
Then his hands were leaving your tits, just for a moment, so that he could bring them up to the collar of your shirt and begin to tug. Your lips slip off of his with a wet pop! followed by a cute gasp from your throat as you turn to watch the way he riiips that shirt of his straight down the middle.
The torn fabric shreds to the floor and then you feel Nanami’s gaping mouth at the side of your neck, palms desperate as they fly to your breasts again to fondle the gorgeous mounds in his hands. He’s squeezing and then gliding the fat of his thumbs over your perky nipples again, giving them a playful little twist, and then smiling into your skin at the way you whine.
“Sensitive, huh?” Nanami sears against you, letting the hungry drool from his lips slick up the area where his mouth had just been.
He takes the following pathetic sound from your lips as a reply and then moves his fingers to flick at your delicate buds as a finality before letting one hand fall down in between the two of you.
If he didn’t get some sort of relief right now, he was going to lose his mind.
Nanami is rather skillful with the one hand he leaves at your tits, switching between each to give them the same amount of attention and carefully pulling strings of wonton moans past your drunkenly parted lips. He had hardly done anything yet and he already knew you’d been waiting on this.
The sound of his belt buckle clacking against itself as he messily unbuckles the hindering item and then flings it off to the side seems to echo throughout the not-so-scary forestry. You hear but a few more shuffles and feel his hand brushing over the curve of your ass just a couple more times before something viscous and sweltering is thumping against your ass with a faint curve upwards.
You’re feeling overly dizzy now. Particularly as he moves his hands to your hips and swirls the two of you around so he can press your face against the three you two have been standing behind. You wanted to hate that harsh scratch of wood against your cheek, but you couldn’t even think with Nanami’s weeping cock busy pouring out drooly strings of precum against the bare skin of your lower back.
If anything, your lashes were too busy fluttering as you let your head tilt and your eyes tried to catch a subtle glance at the weight resting below your slowly arching spine.
If there wasn’t a wet mess pooling in between your thighs before then there damn sure was now, almost uncontrollably so.
Nanami goes along to tug away the sorry fabric of your shorts, watching the way they slip down your legs and pool oh-so-gracefully at your ankles. His cock lay needily against your panties now as he leaned forward for your ear, whispering, “Can you feel that?”
Your cunt flutters ridiculously around nothing and your voice has been reduced to a pitiable mumble, “Yes, Kento..”
A pretty response like that earns you the grazing of his teeth against the crown of your ear as his voice drops impossibly lower, “How’s it feel, huh? Tell me.” Nanami directs, leaving you no room to argue.
And as if to coax your answer out of your suddenly moan-clogged throat, his hips real back and he angles his cock down before thrusting the thick of it in between your sweat-slicked thighs, allowing you to feel the heaty veins decorating his shaft.
You moan as if he’d just pushed into you, “Big, Ken’.. so fuckin’ big..” To which he groans right into your ear so that you would really digest what it is your aroused tone did to him.
Those hands he had at your hips are now keeping your body steady so he can properly pry his hips back and let his cock schliiick up against the wet soiling of your panties, stuffing between your thighs perfectly and rubbing along your slobbering folds deliciously.
Then—ever the talker—as if to earn a lovely throb of your pussy against him, he’s heaving all over again. “Do you like it?” Nanami taunts, biting back a smile, “Having a big cock rubbing in between your thighs like this? Hm?”
Your cunt is wetly begging for more at this point; body thrumming, sleek with sweat mixed through an overwhelming heat, and desperate need to fuck. Any longer with him rutting in between your thighs like this and you felt as though you’d pass out from lack of dick being inside you.
Eventually grumbling an answer out to him, “Y-Yes but-, ah..!” You’re cut off by the obviously purposeful way his glazed mushroom tip pokes up against the pad of your panties, doubly smearing pre into the already soaked material and simultaneously teasing your folds to part.
“But what?” Namai questions far too innocently for the way he’s torturing your poor, needy pussy right now.
Huffing from kiss-bitten lips, “I want you inside me, Kento,” You plead too prettily for him to deny.
“Mmh,” A hand of his comes up to force your head back again, letting your eyes meet his shaded brown ones, “Where’s those manners, huh?”
“P-Please,” You whisper, “I just want-“
“Louder,” Nanami cuts off crisply enough for you to release a bashless whine.
“Kento, please fuck me,” You breathed out finally, “I need it, need you inside me. Pleeease.”
Considering that perfect enough for both his ego and the aching inches of his cock, a commanding, “Spread your legs,” plummets past his lips.
Your feet have never parted faster, thighs parting and removing the warm pressure that’d been hugging his dick all too addictively. Then you bend over further, if possible, and rest a little more comfortably against the tree ahead.
“Mhm, exactly like that. Now arch,” He directs, hand pressing into your spine whilst your face smushes into the rough bark of the tree.
You were too horny to mind the pain, though. Nanami’s hand suddenly comes down on your ass as he slaps it, the impact ringing out into the surrounding quiet.
Finally, you begin to feel his fingers hook around the only material hanging in between you and him before he stretches it out a bit and then lets go, letting your panties smack! against your puffy pussy lips and ripping a whimper out of your throat.
At the sound, Nanami swears he almost cums.
Which is exactly why he knew he couldn’t tease you much longer. So he hooks his fingers again and then lazily tears the fabric apart so that it could flutter off your throbbing body and leave you bare to his craving gaze.
“Fuck, look at you,” Nanami gasps as he takes his heavy length into his hand and angles the plump, welled tip in between your slick dribbling folds, “Such a mess for it already…”
You clasp your bottom lip in between your teeth and hate how he lets himself glide up instead of in, slipping past your cunt, catching against your clit for a second too fast for your cockdrunken brain to process, and then further up as if to… measure something?
Nanami tugs you back by your hips a little and once your ass is nice and flush with his sharp pelvis, he hooks his arm around you and then begins to feel around for where the length of his cock comes to a stop against you.
Chuckling, “Am I even going to fit in here?” He asks tauntingly. Following that rhetorical question up with an annoying groan of, “Ah, shit. That’s gonna be really deep, sweetheart. Can you take that?”
“I can,” You blurt out ever so sweetly.
Nanami scoffs, “You’re just greedy for some cock to fill you up, aren’t you?” He asks as if he didn’t already know the answer.
Which is why he’s anything but surprised at the way you murmur a delightful, “Y-Yes,” as if you weren’t too sure of your own words.
“And she agrees,” He mocks tenderly and then lets his dick travel back down to slap against your folds with one wet plap echoing into the forest air. “I bet you didn’t even try to hide properly, did you?”
“I did-,” You tried to answer him properly, you really did. But as that swollen cockhead of his begins to protrude past your syrupy entrance, your breath is tangled up in your throat. “Ohmygod…” You’re heaving into the tree.
“So wet-,” Nanami hisses in tandem with you, “Fuck, you wrap around me so gorgeously,” He whispers whilst leaning back a bit and letting his palms paw at your ass cheeks just to spread them apart and get a better look.
Your eyes quickly begin to kiss the back of your skull, nails clawing at the bark of the tree ahead of you because of how thick Nanami’s cock is. You think your legs are shaking a bit, but you can’t tell if that’s because of how indigent you were for this or because of how wide he’s stretching you.
It takes you a loong group of seconds to adjust to the sheer girth of his cock, in which Nanami attempts to go slow and cater to the clear twitch and overall stutter in your expression. His gaze switched back and forth between the way your pussy was swallowing up his slightly curving inches and the flashes of surprise to gorgeous pleasure across your face.
The slow, shallow grinding into your rather accepting cunt only lasts for so long until he physically can’t take it anymore.
That quickly ends with one blunt thrust, his unfairly fat tip smooching the hilt of your soaked pussy and hauling a heightened moan from deep within you. Then he’s keeping you perfectly still so that he can begin to bury himself in and out of your gooey cunt, slick dripping off from where you two met and tap, tap, tapping! against the poor crumbled leaves below.
“Mmgh… god, you’re a slut.” Nanami slurs half-drunkenly to you. He was losing his mind faster than he could comprehend, getting so utterly lost in the way you lulled his erection deeper inside your already-stuffed pussy each time he pried himself back. “Letting me fuck you in the middle of the woods like this,” He moans, fingertips now bruising the skin of your hips, “Just eager to be used, huhh?”
“Uhuh,” You drool, no longer caring about the rather debauched state of your ruined frame. “I... ah! Mmgh, I w-wanted this s’bad, Kento..”
He breaks out an all too pleased smile, hips stuttering against your ass now, “This was why you couldn’t sleep, wasn’t it?” He assumes, “You needed a stranger like me to-, hahh.. chase you through the woods ‘n stuff this poor, desperate lil’ hole of yours, yeahhh?”
You’re a delirious mess of all sorts now, nodding cockdrunkenly as he plows into you with loud, wet thrusts. “Y-Yeah, needed this… mmphf-, fuck!” You moan.
“Awh, you’re so sweet.” Nanami coos all of a sudden.
Though the gentleness of his baritone voice gives you whiplash, considering how he shifts behind you and wraps a bulky arm around your neck unexpectedly. As he captures you in a headlock and pounds his pleasureful cock into you harder, leaving your legs quaking a little, Nanami decides to talk into your ear again with a whisper of, “How’s it feel to be my sweet final girl?” that leaves you dazed.
“Final-, hnngh…” You’re somewhere through another orgasm now, having not even realized the mess you’ve begun to leave against his sloppy dick. Breathing past the pressure of muscle at the center of your throat, “F-Final girl?”
“Yes,” He murmurs softly as if it were no big deal. Your body was just jerking and bouncing with the way he roughly fucked you senselessly, carrying on this little conversation with such ease that it literally had your eyes crossing and your mind reduced to a mushy mess, “You know, the only person to survive a killer in those slasher movies,” Nanami explains.
“K-Kento!” You gasp out in response to that. This meant he really was that axe murderer all this time! Not that you had the time to digest that when he was too busy rearranging your very euphoric walls, “Hahh… those-, mmgh! Those articles, they-, ah.. they were all you?” You eventually manage.
Nanami tilts his head to the side and you miss the way he flashes a full, proud smile, “You’re a smart girl, I’m sure you can figure that one out yourself.”
Sputtering, “Then why… mmpf-, f-fuck, why’re you letting me live?”
“Priorities, sweetheart,” The blond insists, thick strands of hair sticking to the crown of his forehead now. “I’m hoping if I fuck you hard enough you won’t tell anyone,” He admits, as if he couldn’t have gotten away with this whole thing without ever admitting anything to you.
And yet, your pussy was down there gushing all over him as soon as he revealed his “secret” to you. So, he felt as though you didn’t care too much about who he cut up in his free time, especially not now when you’re too busy taking his cock.
“But-, fuck…” Your body convulses a little and his head was churning against your sweet spot, leaving stringy cobwebs of cum against it as he held back the incoming load he was about to fill you with, “Kento, a-all those people-”
“Shhh, shh, I promise you they all got what was already coming to them,” He explains as if to soothe your moral worrying in the moment. Then he has the nerve to grunt and sharply halt the movement of his hips, using the arm around your throat to bend your body a little more as his cock spurts thick ropes of his seed into you as he pants, “You trust me, don’t you?”
Nodding, “U-Uhuh.” as he lazily pumps his cum deeper inside you, almost like he wanted to make sure it took.
Nanami snickers your agreement, “Aw, poor girl, she’s too stuffed to think straight anymore,” He points out smoothly, sliding his other hand down to rub over your clit and feel the way your body thrashes against his in overstimulation, “So what do you say, huh? You won’t tell anyone about me, right?” He asks anyway.
Your voice is a shaky stutter and you felt as though you couldn’t breathe, choking up on your own orgasm, “I-I’d never-, nngh.. snitch on you, Kento.” You claim stupidly.
To which Nanami rolls his eyes, “Wow, it really only takes some cock to have you trusting a complete stranger? Pathetic…”
A couple more energy-spent thrusts later and his length flops out of you, leaving your pussy leaking with his cum and the two of you panting heavily.
It takes a few moments for the both of you to gather yourselves, but neither of you really moves. You stay wrapped up in the rather endearing headlock he’s put you in, and he doesn’t seem like he plans to let you go at first.
Then, it’s slow but, he carefully unravels you out of his grasp, and you two lean forward against the poor tree that had to stand there and watch you two go at it like feral animals.
Nanami’s bare chest is rising and falling with slow, measured breaths against you, and you find it oddly peaceful now. Well, ignoring the filth of cum sliding down your thighs currently…
You eventually break the gathering of your breath with a playful murmur, “Sooooo,” The moment your breathy tone hit his ears, he knew exactly what you were about to ask. “You don’t uh, kill the people you fuck, riiiight?”
Nanami pauses, long and hard.
“Unfortunately for you, sweetheart,” He begins, just to give you one last scare, “I do.”
࿐summary. the gojo clan is untouchable, and their new ruler, gojo satoru, is the most powerful sorcerer of his generation—unrivaled, unrestricted, and utterly uncontrollable. for years, he has defied the expectations of his clan, rejecting tradition, resisting the cage they built for him. but even the strongest must bow to duty. a deal struck, a marriage arranged. you, the daughter of a fallen clan, are chosen to stand at his side. not out of love, but because gojo satoru always gets what he wants. and if he's obligated to marry, fuck it, he wants you. though, you quickly learn that your place is not beside him—but beneath him. why? because gojo satoru doesn’t do love.
࿐tags/warnings. nsfw 18+, smut, angst (with eventual fluff), slight canon divergence, arranged marriage, satoru is emotionally detached, he's kinda a dick at times, breeding, breeding kink, praise kink, some degradation, loss of virginity, mentions of infidelity, mentions of a prior scandal (i'll update tags as i write more) » 【this part — suguru is up to something... hm. reader does some reflecting. satoru has terrible coping skills and is allergic to feelings. he's still an asshole guys, BUT he's getting better. a bit of hate sex. lots of dirty talk. grinding/dry humping. cunnilingus. BOUNDARIES 😌】
࿐wc. 12.3k
࿐a/n. hello lovelies! ahhh here we are~ this part focuses a lot on change. i really want the growth in reader and satoru to feel natural and earned. so the angst this chapter is more intimately suffocating. i'll share more thoughts at the bottom! i hope you enjoy 🫶🏻 art by @/_3aem
➔ series masterlist ♫ playlist ➔ ao3 ➔ primary masterlist
Sometimes... you still hear it. That damn applause. It creeps back in the rattle of cicadas, sticky in the heat outside your window. Slips beneath your skin when the night gets too quiet, too still. A ghost that never left.
Other times, it hums through smaller things—like this morning, when you dragged the kanzashi comb through your hair. The rhythm clicked against your scalp as you pinned Satoru’s gift into place, waiting—hoping—it might say something new. Something gentler than the echo still clinging to your spine. But… it never does.
So here you are, tucked into the crook of your clan’s garden as dusk softens the stone paths—twisting the engagement ring on your finger like it might do what the comb couldn’t. Like it might hum some truth into your skin.
“Tch... you’re gonna wear that again?”
The words snap you from your daze. You blink up, and Maki’s already halfway across the flowerbed—hands shoved into her jacket pockets, brow arched in flat disbelief.
“Oh…” you murmur. “Hey.”
She slows when she reaches you—green ponytail swinging behind her, eyeing you through her glasses from head to toe before landing on the comb. A long sigh pulls from her, like it’s a conversation she’s already exhausted by.
“I told you to toss that thing.”
Your hand rises instinctively, brushing over the gem-encrusted metal nestled in your hair. Still warm from the sun. Perfectly centered.
“Yeah… you did.”
And you meant to. You meant to do a lot of things. But somehow, each morning, it finds its way back to you. Like clockwork. Like ritual. As if it might mean something—if only you hold onto it long enough.
“So… what?” Maki grumbles, dropping onto the bench beside you with a grunt. “Did they glue it to your damn skull when I wasn’t looking?”
A faint smile touches your lips, but it fades quick. Your eyes drop to your lap, smoothing your kimono like the fabric might offer clarity you haven’t found in weeks.
“I… well…”
…why do you keep wearing it?
“I’m expected to wear it. Mother says it would be disrespectful not to.”
It’s not a lie—but it isn’t the truth, either.
Maki scoffs. “Yeah. Right. Because he’s such a shining example of respect…”
The wind shifts. You tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, gaze drifting past the koi pond, toward the ivy-wrapped wall. It all looks the same. That’s the strange part. This portion of the estate remained untouched by time. But you haven’t been here in years—not since your clan shut you out. Not since you stopped believing they’d ever let you back in.
A bird takes off, wings beating sharply against the quiet as Maki leans back on her hands, eyes fixed on the garden.
“It’s bullshit…” she mutters. “You’re always the one who has to look composed. Smile, bow, act grateful. If the roles were flipped, he wouldn’t think twice about disrespecting you. You know that, right?”
She’s right.
…isn’t she?
You don’t know what to make of things. Because every time you believe you’ve mapped Satoru Gojo out, he flips the entire picture. Turns the world on its back. And perhaps that is what you keep thinking about—what draws you to this quiet, this pain. Not the gift. Not the absence. But the look in his eyes—after the ring, after the applause.
Like… he was mourning something you couldn’t see.
“I’m… supposed to meet him tonight…” you murmur, barely above the breeze. But the words feel hollow. Unbelievable, even now.
Because it’s been weeks. Weeks of silence. Weeks without him. Each meeting was canceled before starting, reduced to clipped apologies that never came from his mouth.
| ‘Gojo-sama has been called away on urgent clan business.’
| ‘Gojo-sama sends his regrets—something came up.’
| ‘Gojo-sama will reschedule.’
| ‘Gojo-sama…’ this. ‘Gojo-sama…’ that.
Always the same excuses. Never his voice.
Maki turns. “Supposed to…” she echoes flatly. “If he ghosts you again, I’m clockin’ him in the face.”
That actually pulls a laugh from your chest—real and sudden, surprising even you.
“Maki…”
“What?” she huffs. “I’m serious. Right in that smug-ass smile of his.” And you shake your head, smiling despite yourself. “Sure… okay. But how exactly are you planning to get past Infinity?”
“Doesn’t matter,” she shrugs, reclining lazily against the bench. “I’ll find a way…” She looks up toward the sky, squinting at the sun. “Hmm… maybe I’ll trip him. Or—oh! I’ll insult his taste. That’ll drop his guard.”
“Mm… wouldn’t work.”
“Yeah, probably not,” she sighs, lips quirking. Then she nudges your arm. “But you…? You could put him on his ass.”
You blink. “Me?”
“Pfft. Don’t act innocent.” Her eyes gleam. “That move your dad drilled into you a hundred times. What was it again? You nailed me with it when I was twelve.”
The memory creeps in, and you hesitate.
“…aiki otoshi?”
“Yeah. That one!” she snorts. “Thought I broke my elbow that day. Rude.”
“Okay, first of all, you fell wrong,” you say automatically—soft, amused. But then, your voice lowers, quieter now. “And second… well. There’s more to it…”
Pausing, your eyes flick to the path ahead, tracing the faded grooves in the stone with your gaze—weathered lines from years of footsteps. The place where the moss grows thick in the cracks. The corner where the old plum tree leans a little too far, as if it’s listening in.
You remember the sound of your father’s sandals there.
‘Lower, little crane. Bend your knees, not your pride. Feel the weight of things before you move them.’
He always spoke like that. Riddles. Soft warnings. You didn’t always understand them. Because he made it sound so simple. But it wasn’t.
‘You’ll know it’s time… because you’ll feel it. The pressure. The shift. And when you do… you must act. Don’t hesitate.’
A breath catches in your chest. You hadn’t thought of that lesson in years.
“My father used to say… it’s not just how they fall, but why. Because the body doesn’t lie. It reveals… everything. Where you carry your pride… where you bury your fear.” Your fingers curl slightly in the fabric of your kimono.
“And that’s what makes the technique work best,” you finish quietly. “Especially on the ones who think they can’t be moved.”
Maki grins. “So it was literally made for Gojo.”
You huff—barely a laugh—and for a moment, neither of you speak.
The light’s shifted; sinking low across the courtyard, brushing the edges of the stone walk in amber. Cicadas hum in the hedges. A wind chime stirs in the distance. It should be peaceful. But all it does is press the silence in deeper.
Until, a soft vibration cuts through your stillness. You blink, pulling your phone from your pocket—your thumb automatically unlocking the device.
| Good evening. Gojo-sama will arrive shortly. You may proceed to the Gojo estate. Please meet him at the northern hall.
One of the Gojo household attendants.
You stare.
No postponement. No apology. No last-minute excuse. Simply… confirmation?
The message sits on your screen like a foreign object. You read it again and again, half-expecting it to disappear, to correct itself, to vanish before you can stand. But it doesn’t.
Maki eyes you. “What?” she mutters. “Did he finally grow a pair and text you himself?”
“…no. Not him. But… look.”
You angle the device, her eyes skim the text, squinting through the fading light—and when she looks over at you, the skepticism is soft, but certain.
“So… what?” she pulls back, scoffing. “He’s actually showing up?”
You stare down at the message again, not answering.
…is he?
You’ve learned not to believe it until he’s there—until his voice is in the room, until his shadow hits the floor. Until the very idea of him stops feeling like a goddamn ghost.
With a slow breath, you tuck the phone away and rise. The comb stirs in your hair, catching the last kiss of sunlight like it’s waving goodbye. As your fingers find your sleeves, you smooth them with quiet precision, more out of ritual than need.
“Well… I guess I should get going.”
But Maki doesn’t stand. Her weight stays sunk into the bench; arms draped across the backrest. Her gaze lingers on you—serious now. Quiet. The teasing edge in her voice gone.
“Um… you don’t have to, you know,” she says after a moment. “Maybe… just… let him wait for once.”
Your eyes flick toward the garden path. The same path you used to race down barefoot, kimono hem clutched in one hand, laughter tucked behind your teeth. When things were simpler. When you didn’t know how far you’d have to bend to fit inside a name that was never meant for you.
It’s strange, how familiar it all feels—and how removed you are from it now.
“No…” you say at last. “There’s no avoiding the inevitable.”
But even as you speak it, your feet are heavy. And you are left wondering if you’re walking toward a reunion, or another silence.
༻༺ꨄ༻༺
“Mother?” you call, slipping off your sandals. “I’m heading off. And I’ll probably be home late.”
No reply.
But… you don’t really expect one. Ever since the clan welcomed you back—welcomed her back—it’s been like this. Quiet. Formal. Like someone drew a line through her, and the part that belonged to you got left behind. You’ve barely seen her after the yuino ceremony.
But still—like clockwork—you make her dinner. Pack her a bento. Leave it on the counter without a word. And every morning, it’s gone. No note. No comment. But the box is always empty. And somehow… that’s enough to keep you doing it.
Your feet pad across the tatami as you drift toward the kitchen, the scent of miso hanging in the air. The soup’s been simmering since dawn—seaweed curling at the edges. And clicking off the burner, you pack her meal.
Pickled daikon, tamagoyaki, a few slices of grilled fish. You fold the furoshiki with care, placing it where she’ll find it without a word. But as your gaze falls to the rest of the meal—the food you prepared for yourself, more out of habit than hunger—you pause. Because whatever tonight holds… it won’t be soft. Will it?
This isn’t some… romantic dinner.
You’re not expecting a meal. Or warmth. Or anything, really. Not from a ghost of a man.
So, without thinking, you pack another—for yourself. Rice. A little kinpira gobo. A plum tucked against the edge. Enough to see you through the night. But as you seal the cover, your hand lingers.
…
Would it be strange to bring one for yourself and not… him?
You stare at the lacquered lid, fingers hovering like they’re waiting for permission. Like maybe, if you stall long enough, your better judgment will intervene. Because this is ridiculous. You know better. You shouldn’t be thinking about this. Thinking about him.
And yet… you reach for the larger box anyway.
With a gentle tug, you tuck both bentos into your bag—yours, and his. Better to keep your hands busy than let your thoughts wander too far. Because it’s nothing. Simply food. A meaningless gesture. But… damnit. Your fingers won’t stop shaking.
Why are your hands trembling?
Nothing makes sense anymore. You haven’t a clue what the fuck you want. Because he’s made it impossible to understand—showing up one moment, disappearing the next. Feeding you silence like it’s something you’re supposed to be grateful for.
…are you grateful? Is this better?
No. It can’t be. Not when the clan has already begun whispering again. Not when your mother has purpose again. That’s why you must fulfill yours.
You can’t fuck this up.
The door slides shut behind you as you step out into the lazy afternoon, the sun dipping low past the tiled rooftops. Your sandals move soundlessly over the stone path—the bento bag hanging at your side. But then, you smell it.
Smoke.
Sharp. Bitter. The kind of smoke that used to slip through the shoji during clan meetings. That curled beneath doors when voices dropped to whispers. That clung to your sleeves long after the men stopped talking.
‘Smoke speaks in ways we can’t.’
Your mother always reminded you, every time the elders gathered, pipe stems between their fingers like they were carved from bone. And sure enough, as you round the corner, you see him.
Councilman Daigo.
He’s perched on the edge of the engawa step beneath the old camellia tree—back straight, gaze steady, a kiseru nestled in his grasp as if an extension of his breath. You’ve spent your whole life reading the air between men like him. Because it isn’t about what’s said. It never was.
“Ah.” The pipe taps once against its dish. He doesn’t look up. “The daughter returns.”
The daughter.
Never your name. Not even your role. Only the title that binds you to the man they erased. You bow, but it feels mechanical. Your spine bends, but your thoughts do not.
"Good evening, Councilman."
"Off to the northern hall, I presume?"
"Yes, sir."
A plume of smoke blooms from his lips as a ghost of a smile pulls at the corners. “That’s wonderful,” he hums, tapping the kiseru once again. “We were beginning to wonder when things would move forward.”
You force your shoulders to stay level, your breath even.
They’ve noticed. Noticed Satoru’s absence. Noticed yours. You’re the test they never stop administering—the girl with the wrong name, the wrong bloodline, the father no one speaks of, and now… the groom who doesn’t show.
“Yes… well. I should go—”
Click!
Each tap of his pipe on the dish is a clock ticking towards your unavoidable fall to failure, to shame.
"Of course," he smiles serenely, smoke curling upward in a lazy spiral, spilling out like a second language. "Don’t let me delay your duties. It’s good your bloodline has found some… renewed value. Better to be reclaimed than forgotten entirely, wouldn’t you say?”
There’s no polite answer to that. So you say nothing. Because what he’s really saying is:
You’re lucky we let you back in.
You’re lucky we didn’t bury your father’s name with him.
Don’t make us regret it.
Your second chance is still conditional. And you’ve yet to move in with Satoru.
He shifts, brushing ash from the rim of the dish with the edge of his pipe.
“I trust you’ll handle things with care.”
“Of course…” you murmur, hand tightening on the bento bag. “I won’t let the clan down.”
“Mm. That’s what your father said, too…” he scoffs, almost lazily, drawing in another long breath from the pipe. “The problem wasn’t that we didn’t stop him… it was that we trusted him in the first place.”
Your breath catches. Your eyes flick to his face.
Because—wait. It's the most direct this man has ever been with you. Not cloaked in smoke or couched in implication. Not one of those offhanded remarks meant to sound like nothing and sting like hell three days later.
No. It seems like the nearest you’ve ever gotten to the truth. Because all your life, they’ve only ever spoken of your father in fragments. A disappointment. A shadow. A shame.
A scandal… but never a story.
And no one ever tells you why.
Not your mother—who goes quiet every time his name is mentioned, who changes the subject or leaves the room. Not the clan—who speaks of him like a blemish on a blade, a weapon too flawed to be remade. Only that he betrayed them. And that you—his daughter—are what remains.
A legacy of shame.
You’ve carried that weight in silence—wearing it like silk. But a scandal with no name is more dangerous than one with a face. A curse with no shape festers. Expands. You've been living your entire life inside the silhouette of something unspeakable. And now—now—he’s handed you a thread.
You shouldn’t ask. You know better. But—
“What… do you mean? What did he do?”
You don’t even realize you’ve spoken it until the silence returns. The elder’s pipe stills, and for the first time since this conversation began, he looks at you. Not past you. Not through you.
At you.
And whatever he sees there… makes his expression harden.
“You’ve been given a second chance. I suggest you don’t waste it on questions with no rightful answers.”
His voice is cold as stone.
That thread?
Gone.
Snapped clean in two.
“Yes… of course. Apologies Councilman.”
“Tch… a man like your father… what a disgrace. It was only a matter of time before he scorched everything he touched.” He inhales deeply, dragging a large breath from his pipe, eyeing you with contempt. “Strange, how some bridges only burn halfway.”
Half-burnt.
That’s what you are, aren’t you? All you ever are. A daughter of ash and almosts. Not banished. But not embraced. Not quite reclaimed. But useful enough to keep.
For your clan… and for Satoru.
“But… alas,” he sighs, tapping the pipe against the rim of the dish, “we all owe our gratitude to Gojo-sama, don’t we? Which is why you shouldn’t leave him waiting. Yes?”
The smile he gives you is thin. Practiced. Meaningless. But the message beneath the smoke lands heavy as stone:
You’re not here because you belong.
༻༺ꨄ༻༺
You were still a young girl when your father left, but not so young that you don’t remember the way he laughed. The way he held your hand when you walked to the shrine together. The way he said your name.
You remember the man. But… everyone else remembers the mistake.
It’s strange, right? How memories soften at the edges. How warmth fades faster than truth. Because near the end, something in him changed. His voice, his gaze, his touch—resembling someone else entirely.
Like… a stranger had taken his place.
And you wish—god, you wish—you could ask him. Could look him in the eye and demand to know if any of it had ever been real. If the love you thought he gave you was yours to begin with. Or only a trick of the smoke. Because despite what your mind insists, your heart remembers differently.
…like it does with Satoru.
‘Smoke speaks in ways we can’t.’
The words rise once again; your mother’s voice echoing where it doesn’t belong. And as your sandals crunch down the gravel path—you stop before you realize what you’re doing, what you’re standing in front of.
Your father’s shrine.
…what are you doing here?
There’s no avoiding the inevitable—you said so yourself. But… you veered right off the main trail, past the crooked pines, the leaning stone lanterns. Not toward the Gojo estate. Not toward Satoru. No. The opposite direction you should be going.
And here it is. Hidden, almost—tucked deep in the wooded edge of your estate, because he preferred it that way. Removed from ceremony. Removed from… your mother.
Your eyes drag across the structure, and the air changes, your heart aching. Because it’s not frozen in time like your clan’s garden—in fact, the roof sags more than you remember—with wooden beams, weather-beaten and tired—ivy climbing along the edges like it’s trying to pull the whole thing back into the earth.
Your father tended to this place as though it mattered. And now, it’s just… abandoned. Not looked after like before—not without him here to sweep the steps every morning, pruning the ivy. Igniting the incense…
‘Smoke speaks in ways we can’t.’
Incense…
‘Do you know why we light three sticks, little crane?’
You shook your head, crouched beside this very altar, your small hand pressed into his palm.
‘The past teaches. The present asks. The future… listens. That’s why we light all three. So that nothing goes unheard.’
Your father always talked about the core of time, and how in Buddhism, time wasn’t a straight line, but a circle. He insisted that prayer didn’t only go outward—it entered something timeless. A loop. A thread that wound through all things.
‘We light incense to find our place in it…’ he murmured; gaze fixed on the curling wisps above the altar. ‘And sometimes… it says what we’re too afraid to.’
…it says what we’re too afraid to?
The wooden floorboards creak beneath your weight, your kimono whispering with each gentle step. A matchbox sits at the altar—dust clinging to the lacquered tray where an incense box rests. The bento bag slides off your shoulder with a quiet thud.
Right. Perhaps this will give you the clarity you’re searching for.
If smoke speaks in ways we can’t… perhaps it’ll finally say something worth hearing. Something that will straighten the knot in your chest. Something that will tell you what to do with all of this—this ache, this silence, this fucking confusion that no one else seems to see.
But as you wipe the box clean with your thumb, setting three sticks into the grooves with practiced hands, you wonder what the hell you’re even asking for.
Still, you light the initial match, holding it steadily to the stick.
Past.
The smoke curls up like a memory, drifting up, shapeless. And you let yourself follow its path, head tilted slightly, watching it disappear into the stillness above.
…
Nothing.
No answer. No clarity.
Fine. It's possible that the past isn’t where your answer lives.
Present.
This one doesn’t take immediately. You have to breathe on it once—soft, coaxing—and when it flares, the scent rises sharper. The smoke curls into the space between the other—twisting, twinning—before drifting up, up, out of reach.
…
Nothing.
No meaning. Simply a ritual. The same emptiness dressed up in ceremony.
And god, you hate it.
Hate that you keep doing this—looking at objects like they’re going to give you something Satoru won’t. That your clan won’t. Your father won’t. Like the smoke will spell it out. Like the ring will hum some truth into your bones. Like the fucking comb in your hair will whisper: he cares, he just doesn’t know how to say it.
And more so, you hate that you’re here again, in this shrine, searching for meaning in a pile of ash and tradition. Hate that part of you still waits for something. Still wants something. From him.
What the fuck do you even want?
An apology…? Possibly. A reason? Sure. For him to sit beside you and ask if you’re okay? Like it would matter? Like he would mean it?
No. That can’t be right. That’s not it, either.
Then what?
What do you want?
Your breath catches. You don’t want to answer that. You were hoping the smoke would do it for you. Hoping it would grant you permission to feel something before you had to name it yourself.
Your hand reaches for the last match, trembling, and with a shaky inhale, you steady it towards the box.
The future.
But… as you strike—
Snap!
The head breaks clean off, dropping to the floor. And you blink—once, twice—staring at the now-useless sliver of wood in your fingers. At the now empty matchbox below you. And of course. Of fucking course. At the unlit stick of incense. Because the future just sits there. Mockingly. Refusing to catch.
With a hissed breath, you toss the spent match at your feet—eyes cutting toward the storage tucked behind the altar, where forgotten things gather dust. And like that, you’re already rising. Because there has to be another match. Has to be an answer. Anything to ease the knot in your chest.
The hollow floorboards creak as you approach, and the shelf greets you in its usual state of quiet disarray—dried herbs wrapped in string, a collapsed lantern, a splintered tray. You nudge things aside, shuffling through its contents.
“Come on…” you mutter, “I know they’re here…” and dust clouds the air, until—tucked near the back, you spot a glimpse of cardboard.
A matchbox.
Breath catching, you stretch up, up, up—up on your tippy toes. But as your fingertips brush the edge, just shy, just barely out of grasp, you feel your eyes begin to water. Because… why? Why is everything like this? Always half a step out of reach. Slipping through your fingers—the answers you seek, your father, your place in all this. Satoru.
“Please…” you whisper, voice cracking. “Simply this… grant me this…”
And like Buddha himself heard your desperate plea, your fingertips close around it. Your heart flutters as you slide it open, finding one match. One. Sitting at the bottom. Like fate.
Finally. An answer.
But as you spin on your heel—
Crash!
“Whoa there…”
You gasp, stumbling as firm hands catch you. One steadies your elbow, the other presses gently to your waist.
“Easy now… that was a close one.”
The voice rumbles near your shoulder, and with a blink, your gaze settles on the blue kimono before you, silk gentle and delicate, woven with coiling designs of green and gold.
A man.
You collided into… a man?
“I-I..”
Your words tangle in your mouth as your eyes climbs higher. He’s tall. Broad in the shoulders, but… elegant. Not the stiff, lacquered kind of elegance your clan parades around in. No—his is effortless. Worn loose. Soft. Even the gauges in his ears make it seem he’s only half playing the part.
His violet eyes are studying you, and his raven hair is tied back in a half-knot—most of it falling past his shoulders, loose and untamed, with a few strands slipping free to frame a face you swear you’ve never seen before. And yet… something about it feels familiar.
“Oh—thank you,” you manage, stepping back. His hold lingers, then drops. “Sorry. I didn’t realize someone else was here, I was just—”
But as you lift your hand, the words die on your lips. Because your match—it’s snapped clean in half, broken right down the middle.
Again.
“I… I was just…” You try again. “Just—um…” you sniffle. “I-I was…”
But the sentence unravels before it’s ever whole, and suddenly your throat is tight, your eyes sting, and—god. It’s happening.
Stupidly—inevitably—the tears come.
Too fast. Too late to stop.
“Oh—shit. Shit.” His brows draw together, words tumbling like instinct, hands lifting cautiously. “Hey. I didn’t mean to scare you. That one’s on me.”
Great.
That’s great.
You’re crying. In front of a total stranger. In your father’s half-forgotten shrine.
Get it together.
“No, I’m—god, I’m fine…” you mumble, swiping at your cheeks with the back of your hand. “Sorry,” you add, breath catching on an awkward laugh. “I don’t usually… I’m not usually like this.”
“Yeah, well… grief’s a bitch. Doesn’t exactly RSVP.”
You let out a shaky laugh—caught somewhere between breath and break. It startles you, the way it slips out so easily. That’s the sort of comment your father would have said; wry, dry, but not unkind.
“Tell me about it…” you murmur, rubbing your eyes with the heel of your palm. “Grief and I are on a first-name basis at this point.”
“Mmm,” his lips twitch into a faint grin. “Mine’s been living rent-free in my head for years. Real moody, never shuts up. Terrible roommate.”
This time, your laugh comes softer. Thinner. The kind that escapes when you’ve been holding everything in for too long. It lingers, even as silence reclaims the space between you.
He’s… easy to talk to.
And familiar? No. Perhaps it’s just since he reminds you of your father.
Your eyes drop, fingers curling tighter around the broken match in your palm. Something twists low in your chest. Because here you are, left bearing a future without closure—again.
So much for your answers.
“So, uh. Bad day?”
You blink, glancing up. Oh, shit. He’s watching you. And not in the way you’re used to—not the distant, speculative glance of someone weighing your worth. No. He’s just… looking. Present.
“…kinda?” you manage. “I mean… it wasn’t awful or anything. I’ve had worse. Way worse. But…” Your grip tightens around the match again, and gazing down, it mocks you.
How can something so small feel so heavy?
“I guess…” you exhale. “Sorry. It’s stupid. But I just needed one thing to go right today.”
“Ah.” His eyes flick to your grasp. “That was your last one?”
“Yeah…”
His gaze shifts to the altar, where two sticks still burn—smoke curling slowly toward the eaves. It clicks into place—a long breath escaping his nose.
“The future’s always stubborn…” he mutters, hand slipping into the inner fold of his robe. When it reappears, it carries something small—sleek, worn around the edges like it’s been thumbed too many times.
A lighter.
“Here. Need a light?”
༻༺ꨄ༻༺
Your stranger had a gentle, mysterious ease to his presence.
The kind of stillness that doesn’t press silence onto you, but shares it. With him, silence was allowed. You were allowed. You watched as a small flame flickered to life in his hand, catching the final stick of incense with quiet grace. Smoke curled upward in slow, lazy ribbons, joining the other two as he settled beside you.
And now, the two of you wait. For what, you weren’t sure. A sign? A memory? A whisper of something lost in the smoke?
But still… nothing came. No weight lifted. No truth revealed. Only the same dull ache where clarity was supposed to be. Only the sting in your eyes you could no longer blame on the smoke. And the more you sit with it, the more certain you become that, perhaps it’s not the ritual that’s broken.
Perhaps… it’s you.
You’re the one that’s broken. Too far gone to hear whatever wisdom the smoke is supposed to carry. And you hate it.
Glancing down, your fingers curl around the broken matchstick still caught in your palm that you hadn’t realized you were still holding.
“I keep lighting these sticks like they’ll tell me something…” you admit. “Bring clarity. Or peace. Or… I don’t know.” You exhale, eyes tracking the lazy swirls. “All I ever see is just smoke.”
He hums, not unkind. “Maybe that’s the point,” he says, following your gaze. “Clarity isn’t always something you see. Sometimes it’s what’s left behind when the smoke clears.”
“It never clears,” you scoff, lips pursing. “Or maybe it does—and I’ve just forgotten how to see without the blur. Because even when it fades, I can’t tell what’s clarity and what’s just the same old haze, coming back to haunt me.”
He tilts his head, considering you. “Did you know incense wasn’t always about peace?” he murmurs. “It was meant to ward off spirits. Smoke as a barrier. A warning.”
“…really?”
Your eyes meet his, and you sit with that.
Ghosts.
How ironic. You’ve spent so long trying to reach them. To make them speak. Your father, Satoru—both of them swallowed by silence. And you’ve been taught to return it—swallowing your questions like ash.
“I think…” your voice trails before catching again. “I’m tired of chasing ghosts.” He hums in agreement. “Funny thing about ghosts is they only linger if we let them.” And you exhale slowly.
“If I let them go… I think I’d be more alone than I already am.”
As the words tumble out, you blink—startled by your own honesty. The ache behind your eyes sharpens, and you rub your temple, groaning softly.
“Oh my god... I swear I’m not usually this depressing.”
He chuckles as he rises, dusting off his kimono with easy grace. “Trust me,” he grins. “I’ve heard worse confessions in places holier than this.” And glancing up, your lips twitch into a smile.
Well… that’s intriguing. What kind of confessions has he heard? You don’t ask. But somehow, the thought makes you feel a little less pathetic.
You shift, easing the bento bag into your lap.
“I can’t believe I just trauma-dumped on a total stranger,” you murmur with a soft laugh, your voice rounding into something warmer, looser.
But your gaze lingers on him—longer this time. Because there’s something in the way he moves, the quiet strength, the deliberate grace, the way the moonlight threads through his dark hair like it belongs there.
Familiar…
“Or… maybe not,” you add, slower now. “I haven’t seen you around the clan before, but… do I know you?”
The moment the words leave your mouth, you wish you could take them back. Because suddenly, it’s like a door closed within him. Like the temperature dropped a single, imperceptible degree.
His violet eyes harden, gaze shifting toward the far corner of the room, like you’re invisible. Passing over your father’s altar, the stone, the shelves left empty all these years. Like… he expected something to be there.
Exhaling, he looks back to you—and a shiver runs up your spine.
“Maybe I’m just another ghost,” he says, smiling serenely. “Rest assured… you don’t know me. I’m just passing through.”
Your stomach tightens, and suddenly, you feel small beneath him—in that haunting way that happens when you realize: you’ve missed something. Because his smile comes slow. And soft. But something inside it is… off.
“…right,” you murmur, unsure. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to—um… I just thought—well. You just seemed familiar, that’s all.”
With a faint hum, he slides one hand into the fold of his kimono, drawing out his phone—thumb brushing the screen.
“Well,” he says, slipping it back. “I should be off.” His gaze flicks toward the door. “Promised my girls crepes in the city. Can’t be late—they’ve got a sixth sense for strawberry syrup.”
The sentence hangs there, soft and strange and jarring in its normalcy.
Girls?
“Oh,” you manage. “That’s… sweet. I hope they enjoy it.”
“They always do,” that same smile pulls at his lips. “Anyways… take care. And good luck with your ghosts.”
He tosses you a wave, and the moment he’s gone, you’re left sitting there—still a little thrown—watching the doorway he passed through like it might offer you a clue.
Stranger. Ghost. Something in between.
You don’t know what he was, only that something shifted when he left. Like the silence he carried took a piece of yours with it. Because as you glance towards the altar, where the incense is fizzling out, for once, it no longer feels like a question you’re desperate to hear the answer to.
Huh…
What was your answer then?
You’re not even sure, but perhaps… being heard was enough.
Bzzt!
Your phone buzzes against your thigh.
| Gojo-sama is waiting. Will you be arriving shortly?
Shit.
You scramble upright, hoisting the bento bag across your shoulder, rushing down the path. Your sandals tap quickly against the stone, the scent of incense clinging to your sleeves—and just as the world begins to blur around you, the smoke behind you finally begins to clear.
༻༺ꨄ༻༺
By the time you’d reached the estate, an attendant greeted you just past the gates—young, wide-eyed, bowing quickly with a clipboard tucked beneath her arm.
“Gojo-sama’s getting cleaned up,” she advised politely. “Said he got tired of waiting. But he’ll be out shortly—you can meet him in the north room. Down the hall, second left.”
The halls are quieter than you remembered. Weeks ago, they pulsed with ceremony—elders drifting past in brocade, councilmen murmuring in corners, incense clouding the air. Now, it’s just you. Just the hush of your own footsteps across the tatami.
The edge of the corridor comes into view, and your eyes land on a familiar opening—the dojo. It’s just as beautiful as you remember, with shoji panels pushed ajar, the evening air slipping through, rustling the bamboo just outside the courtyard. Your gaze lifts, peaking inside, and that’s when you see it.
…a three-pronged staff?
It’s centered neatly on the wall, ordinary to anyone else—but not to you. Because you know that shape, that grain, that worn curve along the middle joint, and your breath catches before you can stop it.
…can it be?
You don’t even remember setting the bento bag down; you’re already halfway inside—searching the grooves with your eyes, trying to memorize it all at once. But as you approach, disappointment immediately floods you.
…no.
It isn’t your father’s weapon. Not the one you gave away. Not the one you sold. It’s just a lookalike—a ghost of it—like everything else you’ve tried to forget.
“What are you doing?”
The bite in his voice slices through stillness. You stiffen, turning slowly to face him, and you don’t know what you were expecting—but it wasn’t this.
Satoru’s standing in the doorway; barefoot and shirtless, snowy hair damp and disheveled from the shower, grey sweatpants slung low on his hips. But it’s those eyes that pin you—they’re like fractured ice, cold in a way that burns.
It’s… unsettling.
Despite how the hallway lantern casts a gentle glow, haloing his frame in gold, there’s nothing angelic in the way he’s looking at you.
“…I was heading to the northern hall,” you murmur, taking a hesitant step away from the wall. “I didn’t mean to touch anything. I just—”
“Right,” he cuts, low and cold. “Lemme guess, just like how you didn’t mean to touch him.”
You blink. Once. Twice. Your mouth opens, but nothing comes out at first. Because it takes a second to even register what he said.
“W-What?”
“Don’t fuckin’ play dumb,” he scoffs, hands shoving into his pockets. “My eyes don’t lie. I can see it. See his cursed residuals all over you.”
Residuals? Him?
Your brows draw together in confusion as your brain tries to make sense of what he’s saying. All you know is he’s upset—because those eyes are cutting through you like a goddamn curse. The weight of his stare makes you feel pinned—slicing you with a precision that leaves nowhere to hide.
…is he talking about the man at your shrine? But… you hadn’t even gotten his name, hadn’t thought twice about him.
You try to swallow. “Satoru—wait. I went to my father’s shrine and—”
“Fuckin’ hell…” he mumbles, shifting his weight like he’s already bored of the excuse he thinks you’re about to give. His eyes cut back to you, voice rising. “Seriously? I don’t have the patience to hear whatever story you’re about to spin. Don’t bullshit me.”
“What?” You blink, stunned. “I-I’m not. Listen, this guy was there and—"
He huffs a disbelieving laugh, bitter. “Ah… there it is,” and leaning against the doorway, he’s already decided—already branded you guilty. “Residuals cling two ways, sweetheart—domain exposure… or contact.”
The condensation in his voice makes you recoil. His eyes flick to you, surveying you with disregard.
“And you’re wearing his residuals like fuckin’ perfume,” his expression hardens. “So… what? What happened to your perfect little act, huh? Did you sit in his lap? Pray there like an offering? That it?”
Your mouth drops, and you’re fucking speechless.
Because what the fuck? Of all people—he has the nerve? The audacity? The sheer fucking audacity? This man, who has given you nothing but silence for weeks?! Who was ready to fuck another woman on your fucking engagement ceremony?? The air goes tight in your lungs.
“I went there to honor my father,” you say, slower now. Firmer. “Not to be accused of… this.”
“Honor…” he mutters, rolling his eyes, head tipping back. “So fuckin’ tired of that word. Don’t feed me that word like it absolves you.”
“Excuse me?!” The heat tears out of you—raw, jagged, a sound you’ve never let yourself make. But you don’t reel it back. “You have no right! Not after weeks of silence! Not after I’ve given everything I could—everything I had—” your throat tightens, eyes stinging, and for a split second his widen in surprise. But you’re not finished.
“Do you have any idea what I’ve had to give up? I’ve bent myself into knots trying to be what’s expected, what’s demanded—smile when I’m told, bow when I’m told, hold my tongue when I want to scream. I’ve tried to do everything right—all my life. And still, still I see you in that bathroom with—!”
The rest sears your tongue. Your lips snap shut, your eyes fall closed, cutting it off before it can spill out and scorch the space between you.
Because you can’t. You won’t.
You won’t hand him that memory. Won’t let him know how many nights it’s replayed in your head—the way he touched you, the way you let him, the way it left you hollow and restless after.
No.
To say it now would make it sound like proof of something you’re not ready to name. And this man does not love you, does not want you.
‘If the roles were flipped, he wouldn’t think twice about disrespecting you. You know that, right?’
Your breath stutters, your ribs aching as you try to reset—try to count the way your lungs expand. God, what are you doing? This is not how you were raised to be. Pretend you’re fine, even if you’re not. This man holds your future, your fate. Come on now… you never expected warmth tonight, so get it together and face him.
But… despite not expecting warmth, you’re not ready. You’re certain that cruelty is carved into his eyes—a seething anger, a blame you don’t even understand. The words still burn on your tongue, too jagged to swallow back, and you don’t know how to mend them. How do you patch something that was never meant to tear? You’ve never let the sharp edge of your temper slip before, and those eyes will surely slice through you like glass.
Your lashes flutter open, and the sight of him cleaves through the breath you’ve been trying to hold steady. He’s still there, blue eyes watching you, chest heaving like he’s holding something back. And… no.
Nonono.
Oh god. Not this again. It’s that look. That same look that tied your stomach in knots then, and still does now. Like he sees you in a way you don’t want to be seen, in a way you can’t even stand under. Like he knows every thought you’re trying to choke down before you can even form it.
And it hurts.
Because anger, you can fight. Hatred you can meet head-on. But this? This silent recognition that says everything and nothing at once—it’s all you’ve ever known, and it’s crawling up your ribs, crowding your throat until you swear it’s going to split you open, raw.
“I’m not doing this…” you whisper.
He doesn’t move as you turn across the tatami, reaching for the bento bag that remains where you dropped it. The strap digs into your palm when you lift it, and as your fingers rummage through its contents, Satoru observes your movements—gaze landing on the comb nestled in your hair, the gems shimmering underneath the lantern glow.
The air shifts; something tightening low in his chest that he cannot name. Though all he says is—
“Where are you going…?”
“Home.” You answer, setting his meal on the low table. “I brought dinner. I’ll leave it here. Eat it… or don’t.”
The silence stretches. You sense him moving before you hear him—steps slow but certain as he crosses the threshold into the dojo.
“…running away already?”
“…I’m not running,” you murmur, smoothing the strap of your bag, hoisting it on your shoulder. “Just going home. I’m tired. Have your attendants call for me another day.”
He huffs. “You’re tired? Tch…what the hell do you think I am?”
You purse your lips together, biting your tongue.
“…then I suppose you should rest as well. Goodnight, Gojo-sama.”
With that, you turn—intent on slipping past him—but his hand shoots out, closing firmly around your wrist. And your body doesn’t think; it remembers.
Rather than pulling away, you pivot, folding into his momentum. His arm becomes the lever, your shoulder the hinge, and as your knees sink, his strength only feeds the fall. Before he can register it, the tatami is shuddering beneath his back, and you’re left kneeling beside him—breath sharp, his wrist still caught in your hand.
For a heartbeat, neither of you moves. You blink, stunned—taking in how he’s sprawled on the floor, white hair mussed against the mat, blue eyes wide, blinking like he can’t believe you dropped him.
And that realization hits you. Hard. You—flipping Gojo Satoru.
You can already hear the verdict in your mother’s voice, in your clans’ whispers.
Reckless. Shameful. Disgraceful.
“I—I…” your lips part, the beginnings of an apology fumbling out. “I’m… oh god… I didn’t mean to—"
But he’s gripping you before the words can form. You yelp, tumbling down against his chest one moment, twisting against his body the next as he pins you beneath his weight. His hands are on both sides of your face, his knee pressed to the floor between yours, and his breathing is loud in the space between your lips.
“…who taught you aiki otoshi?”
You’re lost in the blue of his eyes, because his face is so close it blurs—mouth hovering just a breath away, snowy hair spilling forward, brushing your temple.
“My father…” you whisper, swallowing. “I-It was just instinct. I didn’t mean to…”
His tongue clicks mockingly gentle. “Bad girl…” he mutters, eyes landing on your lips. “You shouldn’t have done that.”
And then he’s kissing you.
Lashes flutter, and your breath stutters as your fingers bury between damp hair. He’s not tender. He’s desperate—and shit, it’s addicting, the way his breath spills between broken kisses, panting, groaning—every exhale trembling against your mouth before he swallows it.
“Satoru…” you mumble, but he cuts you off, rasping, “Enough…” and his mouth crashes back onto yours before you can form another word—devouring, drowning.
The kiss consumes you, his hands trembling, unable to keep still. One drags down your throat, pressing against the hollow, and you whimper, pulse fluttering. The other grips your waist, tugging your kimono, sliding lower as he hauls your hips against him.
“O-oh—fuck…” The thick heat of his cock presses through his sweats, slotting perfectly between your thighs, and you gasp.
“Haaa… that’s it…” he groans, head dipping to your jaw, teeth grazing your skin as his hips rut hard, shameless, chasing friction like a man starved. “…mnh—fuck,” he pants, grinding again, harder this time, hot breath fanning your throat.
And god help you, your body arches up to meet him.
The nerve of this man! But worse—the betrayal of your own body. Heat’s curling low, your hips are tilting into his, and you hate it—hate that you want this. Because you shouldn’t. Not after weeks of silence, not after the bathroom, not after everything he’s put you through.
His thrust drags another moan from you. “Asshole—” you gasp, hands shoving at his shoulders. But a groan pulls from his chest when your nails bite into his skin, making you scowl.
“You don’t get to act like this, not after—mnh!”
Your words break into a whine as teeth catch your lips in another bruising kiss. He’s consumed, rolling his length harder, ruthless. Fabric rustles, him fumbling with your sash with trembling fingers—tugging the knot like it’s personally offended him.
When the cool air grazes your skin, his breath stutters in anticipation, mouth breaking from yours with another groan.
“God…” his lips trail fire down your jaw, your throat, your breasts. “Shit…” he mutters, tonguing at your nipple, sucking, groping greedy handfuls. “So fuckin’ perfect… can’t believe I wasted weeks—"
Weeks?
The word burns, because whose fault is that?! But his hand distracts you before you can question it—sliding down your stomach with possessive intent. Dropping lower, he cups your heat, and you shudder, biting your lip as he holds your cunt.
“—fuck yes… can’t believe I kept myself from this… my slutty little wife.”
The title drips from his lips like filth, and you can’t help the laugh bubbling out of you—breathless, brittle, trying to scorn.
The fucking audacity of this man.
“You don’t get to call me that!” you snap, heat flaring beneath your skin. “Not after you disappear for weeks, leave me with nothing but silence, nothing but—ahn!”
Damn him. Your defiance cracks. His fingers are already dragging through your soaked panties, pussy dripping from the mess between your legs.
“Oh?” he taunts, smirking, pushing the wet fabric against your slit. “Then what’s this, hm? Say what you want, sweetheart. Your sweet little cunt’s already beggin’ for me.”
You hate that he’s right. Hate the way your hips twitch into his hand. The tatami rustles beneath his shifting weight as he settles between your legs, fingers curling at the waistband of your panties.
“Gonna strip these off…” his breath fans your cunt. “Fuckin’ make you mine all over the tatami and—”
“No.”
Before you can think, your hand flies up, pressing hard against his forehead. The sudden stop jolts him. Damp strands of hair spill into your palm, soft against your trembling fingers, and his blue eyes flash wide, startled.
For a beat, neither of you move. Your breath is shaky, ragged, while he’s laying against the tatami, face between your legs, shocked. Tears are threatening to spill over, your eyes burning, because now you’re even more confused. It’s not fair. He’s not fair.
“You don’t get to use me…”
The whisper scrapes out of you raw, cracked at the edges, and he’s looking at you like the very thought of you denying him doesn’t compute. Guilt, hurt, something else—all flashing quick across his face, dimming the usual gleam in his eyes. His brows pull tight, and the look on him is almost lost.
“What if…” his throat bobs with a swallow, blue eyes searching yours. “…you don’t have to touch me.”
You blink, looking down at this man, dazed, your fingers still tangled in snowy hair. His voice is hoarse, pleading in a way that doesn’t sound like him, and his forehead presses harder into your hand, as if leaning into your rejection, desperate to stay connected to you.
“…what?” you whisper, head shaking in disbelief. “You’re not making sense—”
“I know,” he cuts in, lips parting on a shuddering breath. His chest rises and falls against the tatami, fast and uneven. “Just… let me taste you. You don’t need to touch me. I don’t need anything else. I just… need you on my tongue. Please.”
Please.
That word doesn’t sound real, doesn’t belong on his mouth. Gojo Satoru doesn’t ask—he owns, he takes. Yet here he is, head bowed between your thighs, looking up at you like he’d starve if you told him no.
This man keeps confusing the hell out of you.
He’s supposed to be cruel, indifferent, cold. And yet… right now he feels terrifyingly close.
What if letting him do this means you’re handing him power you’ll never get back? The thought terrifies you. Because you don’t know what this means—don’t know if this is desperation or devotion or just another game. And you can’t risk being wrong. Can’t risk being ruined.
So… maybe you close the door? Give—whatever this is—a label that protects your fragile heart. But… can you really draw that line when your thighs are already trembling open for him?
“…all right,” you murmur finally, and his eyes brighten immediately, unbearably blue. “But…” your eyes narrow, lips pursing. “I’m only doing this because… it’s expected of me. My duty. I’m not touching you, and I’m not giving you the rest. Not until the wedding. Understood?”
He smirks, gaze dropping to your cunt. “Yeah… sure. But once my tongue is buried inside that little pussy, doubt you’ll be thinkin’ about duty, babe.”
Heat crawls up your neck from his sheer filth. “God—how can you just—say shit like tha—ah!” but the protest rips into a gasp as cool air hits your skin—Satoru tugging your panties down in shameless urgency.
“Finally…” his cock jerks up, twitching from the sight of your tiny hole. “Look at you… fuckin’ perfect. Prettiest cunt I’ve ever seen.”
God—your face is molten. Snowy hair is tickling your thighs, his breath warms your slick, and you feel flayed open—exposed in ways you never imagined. Like he can see every piece of you, every thought you’re trying not to have.
Maybe this isn’t a good idea…
Tremors wrack your body as nerves take over. He notices, eyes lifting, and he’s instantly cooing. “Shh…” Thumbs stroke lazy circles into your trembling thighs. “S’okay baby… gonna make you feel so fuckin’ good, angel.”
That sweetness—softness laced with filth—it confuses you way more than his cruelty ever did. Why does it hurt worse when he’s gentle? Why does it threaten the one wall you swore you’d keep up?
Duty, you remind yourself. Just duty.
Your lashes lower. “O-Okay…” His grin spreads up, unholy. “That’s it, baby…” Strong hands push your legs apart, cunt glistening for him. “Now… be a good girl yeah? Open up for me. Wanna enjoy my meal.”
This wasn’t your idea of a romantic dinner.
Satoru’s tongue hits you, dragging from your soaked little hole to your sensitive clit, and you gasp. “Ohmygod—” It’s wetter than you expected. Sloppier. “S-Satoru—” you’re squirming, trembling beneath him, unsure if you want to run or pull him deeper.
He decides for you, hands yanking your ass, burying himself into your cunt, and you moan.
“Ffffuck…” he slurs, sliding through your folds, groaning through the mess. “Better than I fuckin’ dreamed… you taste so sweet… mnh…”
Each swipe of his tongue leaves you raw, overstimulated—making you whimper as his mouth works through your folds with ruthless devotion, like he’s trying to memorize the shape of you.
But… this is just duty.
The thought wavers when his nose nudges your slick and he licks a messy stripe through you, sloppy and relentless.
“So fuckin’ pretty like this, baby…” He pulls back just far enough to press his thumb into your clit, lazy circles that snap your back into an arch. Those vivid blue eyes flick up, watching you, and he rasps. “Mmm… soaked for me already. Gonna fuckin’ cum on my face, huh sweetheart?”
Heat sears your neck. “Satoru, I—” But he shifts, sliding one hand under your thigh, tilting your hips higher. The other pins your belly, holding you open while his tongue plunges back into your cunt. “O-oh… fuck—” Your cry pitches high.
“Wanna eat you every night…” he pants, rutting against the floor, cock oozing at the tip. “Mnh… fuck you full every morning… keep this tiny pussy stuffed till you’re too dumb to walk…”
Duty. Duty. Duty.
You chant it like a prayer while your hips buck, chasing every flick of his tongue. Too good—god, too good. He’s gorgeous like this, ruined between your thighs, and it would be so easy—too easy—to just let go, give in—cum all over his perfect face. Drench him in you.
“Doin’ so good f’me, baby…” His voice vibrates against your clit, tongue circling before grazing you with his teeth. The ring on your finger shimmers as your hands fist in his hair, tugging, making him groan “Fuck… that’s it…” he mumbles into your cunt, devouring again. “Such a good girl. Such a needy girl, aren’t you?”
“I—”
I want you.
A tremor rolls through, your throat tightening with the threat of tears. Fuck. You’re losing your resolve.
Get it together.
“I can’t… I can’t think when you talk like that—” you shudder, thighs trembling. “—can’t think when you look at me like that…”
Low laughter rumbles against your skin, his warm breath fanning you. “Yeah?” he hums, tongue flicking your clit, slow and deliberate, before circling again in a wet brand of torture. “Then stop thinkin’…”
A long finger slips inside, and the sound you make is half-gasp, half-cry.
“Mmm… tight little thing,” he groans, pumping slow and deep. “Slutty little pussy misses me already. Fuck… so fuckin’ wet, so fuckin’ sweet. She’s mine. Knows who she belongs to.”
His…?
Blue eyes cut up to you—impossibly dark, half-lidded, utterly gone. The look of him hits harder than his words, and your heart jerks painfully. You want it—want it too much—and that’s exactly why it burns. He doesn’t want you. He only wants this.
Tears bead at your lashes before you even realize they’re there, cooling as they slide back toward your temples. And that’s when it crashes in.
This was a mistake.
You’d told yourself you could split your body from your heart and stay whole. That you could call it duty and survive it. That you could handle giving him this part of you if he didn’t reach for more. But here you are, shaking under his mouth, coming apart anyway. And… he’s not even fucking you yet.
What happens when he does? What pieces of yourself will be left then?
How are you supposed to navigate this arrangement? How the hell did your mother do it for so many years? How did she learn to shut out the part of herself that still longed for softness, for gentleness?
…is that what strength looks like? A slow suffocation? A steady starvation?
And if that’s the cost, are you willing to pay it?
The thought lodges sharp in your chest, bitter, because you already know the answer. You must. You’ve been paying it all your life.
And your hands are already moving, pressing at his forehead. “Satoru—stop,” you tremble, pushing him off, scrambling for your robes. “I… I’m sorry. I can’t.”
He jerks up at once, watching you fumble with the fabric, confusion sliding in with panic. “Wait—what?” he breathes, ragged, eyes searching you. “What is it? What’s goin’ on?”
But you’re already rising, reaching for the bento bag like it’s the only thing tethering you. “I just…” with a shuddering breath, your head shakes, lashes wet. “Sorry. I need to leave.”
“Leave?”
The word feels foreign on his tongue. He sinks back on his knees, unable to make sense of it, while you’re fumbling with your kimono, putting yourself back together before he can see how undone you really are.
As you turn, the comb he gave you slips loose in your hair, the jewels catching faint light before settling crooked. His gaze snags on it, and
Damnit…
There’s that ache blooming low in his chest again—an ache he doesn’t understand.
“Babe, just—” his lips press together, a frustrated breath pushing through his nose as he stands. “Fuckin’… wait,” his hand grabs your wrist. “Slow down and tell me what—”
“Let go,” you say, sliding the strap over your shoulder, your voice too small to hide the crack in it. You don’t pull away, but you don’t look at him. “I’m going home,” you whisper, breath hitching. “I just… can’t do this right now, Satoru. Please… just let me go.”
And with that, his mouth shuts. He lingers too long, fingers still circling your wrist, his gaze catching on the ring that glints faintly against your delicate hand—his gift, his burden, the tether neither of you asked for. Whatever protest was forming dies in his throat, swallowed by the silence stretching between you. At last, his grip falls away, leaving the air thrumming, swollen with everything unsaid.
You don’t look back. You can’t. If you do, you’ll shatter completely.
༻༺ꨄ༻༺
For Satoru, sex was supposed to make him feel better. So why does he feel like shit?
It had never failed before; a warm body, a quick fuck, that sweet, fleeting rush that burned everything else quiet. Because Satoru Gojo hates noise—always has. And sex is his reset button. His switch. Feelings? They’re meant to be buried.
But lately… it’s like they’ve been burying him.
You’re gone now, and he’s left standing in the empty dojo with all this shit in his head—thoughts clawing at the inside of his skull, louder than ever. And he has no fucking clue what to do with any of it. No way to drown out this stupid, fucking noise.
Why did you leave? Was it something he said? Too much? Too fast? He tried being gentle—wasn’t that what you wanted?
Noise.
Why didn’t he stop you? Why does he care? Why the fuck can’t he stop seeing your face—that night, in the bathroom—shocked, hurt, hollow. Why does it haunt him like this? Why does it piss him off?
Is he angry at you? Or himself?
Noise. Noise. Noise.
What now? What if you don’t come back? What if you call it off, tell him this whole thing was a mistake? Is he that easy to walk away from? Does he push everyone away? Is that why Suguru—
CRASH!
The tension snaps, his arm swinging blindly, knocking a ceramic vase off the low ledge by the wall. It shatters violently on the floor, jagged pieces splintering, water seeping into the tatami as blossoms scatter, bruised and broken.
But the noise of the vase isn’t enough to drown out the noise in his head—because the crash fades, leaving only silence, and he’s standing there for a moment, staring at the wreckage, chest heaving.
…what the fuck is wrong with him?
Hands drag through his hair, tugging the roots in frustration until his legs give, slumping against the wall like his body’s too heavy to carry. With a shuddering breath, his face buries in his hands and he has no choice but to sit with the noise.
Fuck…
He can’t even remember the last time he felt this. Doesn’t want to. And when his eyes open, blinking through the sting, he’s left staring down at the tent in his sweats—still hard, still aching, a dark patch of pre-cum slicking through the fabric.
Pathetic.
Groaning, his head knocks back against the wall with a dull thud. Who the fuck even is he? He literally almost came in his pants, eating you out. Because it’s been weeks—weeks—since he’s fucked anyone.
And not for lack of trying.
Every time someone offered—brushed up against him, pressed a hand to his chest, whispered something filthy in his ear—there you were. That same fucking face flashing through his mind, haunting him.
Sex had always worked for him. So… he thought—hoped—it might work for you, too. That he could fuck the pain off your expression, wipe it clean with his hands, his mouth, his tongue. Drag you into that quiet, mindless place where nothing hurts.
And for a second—god, for a second—it looked like he had. You were trembling beneath him, gasping, clinging. Falling apart in all the right ways. You looked so fucking beautiful. So fucking perfect.
Until… you didn’t. Until that look shifted, and suddenly you were slipping through his fingers again, all water and ache and tears he still doesn’t understand, leaving his chest hollow with something he can’t fucking name.
He scrubs a hand over his face, harder this time, hoping he can wipe that image of you away.
…what the hell is he supposed to do with himself if even this—the one thing that’s always worked—doesn’t work anymore?
As the thought ruminates in his head, the shoji slides open.
“I heard a crash.”
The voice is crisp, stern. Satoru’s eyes flick up just long enough to catch sight of Gojo Hajime, standing at the threshold of the dojo, robes pristine, mouth tight.
Great. Just fucking great.
“Yeah?” Satoru mutters, eyes rolling back toward the floor. “No shit.”
Hajime doesn’t move. But his eyes narrow as Satoru shifts, glass crunching beneath him, elbows resting to his knees. Water creeps across the tatami in slow, quiet veins, while the vase lies in ruin—just like everything else.
“…where is she?” he presses, and Satoru’s head tilts back against the wall with an annoyed huff, staring blankly at the ceiling beams. “Home.”
Home?
That gets the old man to move.
“She left?” he echoes, voice tightening with disbelief. The tatami creaks under his weight, arms folding into his yukata. “Inconceivable. On today of all days?”
“Yup.”
Satoru doesn’t bother to elaborate. Doesn’t even spare the man a glance. If Hajime wants drama, he can dig through the damn broken glass himself for it.
The elder’s eyes scrutinize, stopping a few paces away. “And what of duty?” he huffs, voice sharpening, turning brittle, formal. “What of ceremony? This marriage is not some dalliance, Gojo-sama. It is the cornerstone of our future. A convergence of bloodlines. Responsibility. Honor—”
Blah, fucking blah.
Satoru exhales through his nose, checking out entirely. More useless noise—words he’s heard a thousand times, could recite in his sleep if he cared enough to try. And tonight, of all nights? He’s even less inclined to play along. Not with the taste of you still lingering on his tongue. Not while he’s sitting in the wreckage of his own silence, surrounded by the shards of everything he never said.
“This is no small offense,” Hajime intones, rigid with judgment. “You see now, don’t you? That girl was never fit for this role. Your schedules finally coincide after endless delay, and she has the audacity to walk away? How deeply unbecoming. That woman is a disgrace.”
Disgrace?
At that, Satoru’s eyes flick up, brow furrowing.
…the hell did he just say?
And why the fuck does hearing it—hearing him say it about you—make his fingers twitch?
“It appears she follows in the footsteps of her father,” Hajime continues. “Shameful. Disrespectful of hierarchy, dismissive of ceremony. It’s bred into her. That woman has no sense of place and—"
“Don’t.”
It leaves his mouth before he even knows what it is, and Hajime’s gaze shifts back to him—back to Satoru, who’s no longer slouched or half-listening. The glow of his Six Eyes is sharp now, cutting, lit with a quiet simmer that borders on dangerous.
He doesn’t know what line just got crossed—only that it did.
“Say another word about her,” he warns, the edge of his voice honed to steel, “or about her father, and we’ll have a different kind of problem.”
For a moment, the room is silent—eerily so. Not even the wind breathes. Just that tight, taut stillness that always comes before something breaks. Hajime’s lips seal, jaw ticking beneath the skin. Because no matter how old, how honored, how steeped in hierarchy he may be… even he knows the difference between authority and power.
Hajime wears the robes of authority.
But… Gojo Satoru wears power.
Still, he presses carefully. “With respect… Gojo-sama. The council will not look kindly on a bride who walks away before the rites are even complete. It is not her place to decide when—"
“I sent her home.” The lie leaves his mouth easily. “She didn’t walk out. I saw she was tired and told her to leave. End of story.”
He doesn’t know why he says it—only that it lands before he has time to second-guess it.
Maybe it’s the fact that Hajime kept using words like disgrace and shame, as if you haven’t spent your whole life trying to survive their expectations. Maybe he’s tired of watching people walk into fire for tradition while the old men stay seated.
Or maybe… it’s the look on your face when you turned away from him.
Either way, the lie sticks.
Hajime’s mouth tightens further. “You’d best be ready to explain yourself at the next council gathering.” But Satoru doesn’t even blink.
“Yeah, I’m not explaining shit,” he says, flicking his hand like the conversation’s already beneath him. “And I’m done for tonight. So… uh. Do me a favor, Hajime?”
A flicker of cursed energy coils beneath the surface, and that stare—cold, crystalline—locks in, like lightning waiting for a reason.
“Get the fuck out of my estate.”
༻༺ꨄ༻༺
‘Are you the strongest because you’re Gojo Satoru, or are you Gojo Satoru because you’re the strongest?’
Satoru still doesn’t know how to answer that question. Maybe he doesn’t want to. Because the older he gets, the more that voice—Suguru’s voice—sounds less like philosophy and more like a trap; a snare meant to make him pause—stop and think. Look inward in a way he’s spent years avoiding, because nothing worthwhile ever came from staring into that pit.
It’s easier to be the strongest. Easier to be a weapon, a title, a consequence. Something for the world to worship or hate or fear. People expect less that way. There’s no room for tenderness or doubt.
No room for just… him.
With a frustrated exhale, Satoru kneels in the dim light of the dojo, limbs heavy as he sweeps the broken pieces of the vase into his palm, one by one—the tatami creaking under his knees. They clink together hollowly as he drops them onto the low table, and his gaze drifts—landing inevitably, to the bento box you left behind.
You made it for him. After everything went to shit, and well before it went into even deeper shit—knowing he might not deserve it. And he doesn’t know if that makes him feel better, or worse.
He pops the lid open, almost absently, and grabs the chopsticks. Steam clings faintly to the rice, the grilled fish glistens under the lantern glow, a wedge of pickled radish tucked neatly in the corner beside tamagoyaki cut into even squares.
'So… what? What happened to your perfect little act, huh? Did you sit in his lap? Pray there like an offering? That it?'
The image of your face flashes back—hurt, shocked, furious—and he groans, shutting his eyes as he shovels in a bite.
God, he’s such a fucking asshole. What the hell is wrong with him? Why is he being so possessive over a girl he barely knows—a girl who, by all rights, should hate him after everything he’s done? After everything he hasn’t said?
He takes another bite, chewing mechanically, the food settling on his tongue.
It doesn’t make any sense to him, but ever since this engagement started, you’ve been getting under his skin in ways that make no sense.
Exhibit A: The sunglasses.
His free hand slips into the pocket of his sweats, fingers closing around the familiar weight, turning them over in his palm. He balances them against his knee, staring like they might offer an answer.
They’re just… sunglasses.
Right?
He’s had a dozen pairs, broken twice as many. It pisses him off a little, that something so stupid carries weight. That he can’t slip them on without thinking of you. And yet… he can’t bring himself to throw them away. The thought of doing that would piss him off even more.
He shovels in another mouthful of rice, jaw tight. Which brings him straight into—
Exhibit B: He doesn’t want a wife.
For fucks sake, he hates that word. It’s loaded with tradition and expectation and a thousand eyes watching, waiting, molding him into something he never asked to be. And yet, every time he calls you it while you’re falling apart underneath him—some fucked-up part of him likes the sound of it.
Huh… maybe he’s developed a new kink.
Satoru blinks.
Oh. Fuck.
That must be it… the only possible explanation, right?? Why else would he fantasize about the thought of fucking you so deep the only thing you remember is his name. Of filling you with his cum, creamy and thick, watching it spill out of you just to fuck it back in.
The idea hits him like a punch to the gut, and now—great—his dick’s joined the conversation again, throbbing against the inside of his sweats while he’s sitting here among broken glass and grilled mackerel like an idiot.
God, that’s so fucking deranged.
He stuffs another bite in his mouth—chews like it’ll grind the thought out of his skull. But it lingers; because the truth is, he wanted to fuck the pain he caused you right off your beautiful face—right there, on the goddamn dojo floor. Wanted to kiss the anger from your mouth, to pull your thighs apart and fuck every trace of Suguru off your skin until there was nothing left but him.
His jaw ticks.
… why the hell were his cursed residuals on you?
He pauses, chopsticks halfway to his mouth, appetite curdling by the second.
It’s been years—years since he’s felt it, but he’d know it anywhere. He’s felt it laced through battlefields, curled around corpses, stitched into silence—and once, long ago, wrapped around a friend who stood beside him when they believed in the same world.
It’s changed since then—muted, frayed at the edges—but it still clings like memory.
And tonight, it clung to you.
He sets the chopsticks down. Just for a moment. The food sours on his tongue, heavy in his gut. And he doesn’t know if it’s jealousy or fear or something darker—something uglier—but it gnaws at him all the same. Because if Suguru’s cursed energy was on you… then Suguru had been close.
Too close.
And that’s the problem, isn’t it? Proximity. The reminder that no matter how far he’s tried to keep it buried, their paths will always curve back toward each other. Sooner or later. Like gravity. Like fate.
A muscle jumps in his jaw. That’s his duty. One he’s managed to stave off with excuses and avoidance, with silence and denial. But the truth presses at the edges of his mind, sharp and merciless.
It’s only a matter of time.
He knows what it will demand of him. What he’s going to have to do.
a/n. hello my darlings! i hope you enjoyed this part. i intended it to be longer but i couldn't do another 20k one lol, i think i would have died. so i'm splitting it.
like i said, i really want this growth to feel earned and realistic. reader is starting to stand up for herself, satoru is having to sit with his own shame - something this man NEVER feels. this is just the beginning. our couple has a lot to work through. there are still a LOT of messy feelings going on. but as you can see, satoru is clueless. utterly, completely clueless. this man is so emotionally constipated and incapable 🙂↕️ he thinks sex fixes everything. bruh. i wish it did.
gosh there is prob more i could yap about. there are lots of clues i dropped, i wonder if you can pick up on them. BUT... as i'm typing this ya'll are waiting for me to post it so i'm gonna post it now, hehe. anyways - would love to hear your thoughts and i love you all! thanks for reading and supporting this fic 🥹 mwah!
ꨄ︎ pairing. au ceo! satoru gojo x single mom secretary fem! reader
ꨄ summary. satoru gojo, the arrogant and irresistible heir to a billion-dollar corporation and the son of your boss, the ceo... but when satoru’s father dies unexpectedly, his inheritance hinges on a stipulation: he must marry and have a child, but the child doesn't necessarily have to be his, right? together, you strike a deal: a fake marriage that promises financial stability for you and corporate control for him. as the lines between business and emotion blur, you must decide if your partnership is purely contractual or if it could evolve into something real.
ꨄ︎ warnings/tags. 18+ MDNI, nsfw, enemies (annoyances) to lovers, opposites attract, fake marriage, marriage of convenience, slow burn, smut, fluff, some angst, reader is single mom who recently broke off her engagement, satoru being a cute step dad, naoya is your crappy ex, triggers of prior domestic abuse » 【note, this chapter contains HEAVY TRIGGERS OF DOMESTIC ABUSE. ABUSIVE PAST RELATIONSHIP. MANIPULATION. GASLIGHTING. DISSOCIATION. CHILDHOOD TRAUMA. PTSD. PANIC ATTACK. explicit sexual content, fem rec oral, orgasm.】
ꨄ words: 13.8k
ꨄ a/n. hello my loves, we are back! this is a very, heavy chapter. pls read the triggers before proceeding and read at your own discretion. i actually cried writing this chapter. i'll see you at the bottom ♡ (art by @/hanamin_0123 on X )
ꨄ taglist: open (ao3)
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ch 8 // inhale, exhale
Mornings like these make you feel like you’re walking through someone else’s life. Sunlight seeps through the curtains in buttery streaks, and you murmur, stirring slightly under the blankets, the feeling of fingers threading softly through your hair.
Whose fingers? Are you dreaming? Oh well, if it’s a dream, it’s one you’d rather not wake up from. It’s a peaceful morning—domestic, even—and for a moment, you let yourself breathe it in, almost succumbing back to sleep, wondering if this is what normal feels like.
The peace you’re building with Satoru. This life. You let it settle over you like a soft blanket, hoping it might chase away the prickle of unease that had been clinging to your mind since last night.
Ah... but of course. Something is off. And unfortunately, the thought coils into your mind yet again, slithering in before you can stop it—an itch you can’t quite scratch.
It jolts you awake, your eyes fluttering open as the thoughts fester their wake into your mind, but as the fogginess of your heavy eyes begin to focus, the first thing you see is him.
Satoru—propped up on one elbow, looking down at you affectionately as he lays beside you on the bed—fingers brushing lazily through your hair.
“Hey you,” he murmurs quietly. “Good mornin’.”
Your cheeks blush.
Oh. This isn’t a dream. Fuck. Of course. You just remembered that you snuck into his room last night.
Your body moved on its own, and now you’re unsure what to say this morning.
Because Satoru’s smile last night outside the jacuzzi, the one that said—Everything’s fine—you’d seen past it. After all, his smile isn’t just charm; it’s armor. But this time he wasn’t shielding himself; he was shielding you.
And perhaps you would rather convince yourself it is fine. To believe that the life you’re building together isn’t as fragile as it feels—poised to crumble under the weight of the unknown.
Yet, in the stillness of the night, your mind wouldn’t let you rest. No. After saying goodnight to Satoru, returning to your separate beds, most of your night was spent tossing and turning restlessly—thoughts racing in endless circles.
And then, before you knew it, there you were—standing in the hallway, barefoot and hesitant as your fingers brushed lightly against the doorframe of his room. His door was slightly ajar and the faint glow of moonlight spilled out into the dark hallway.
Fuck. What are you doing?
Honestly, you weren’t sure what you needed exactly. Reassurance? Comfort? To hear him say one more time that everything was fine, even if you knew deep down it wasn’t? All you knew was that the weight in your chest felt unbearable, and you didn’t want to be alone with it anymore.
Quietly, you stepped inside, slowly making your way to the edge of his bed. After lowering yourself onto the mattress, you perched there—hands nervously twisting in your lap as you watched him.
He looked so… peaceful. And beautiful. His white lashes rested against his cheekbones, the faintest hint of color blooming there. His lips were slightly parted, his breathing deep and even, the rise and fall of his chest almost hypnotic. The mere sight of his expression sent a wave of longing crashing through you.
Without thinking, your hand moved, brushing lightly against his hair. The soft, silken strands slipped through your fingers, and you smoothed them back from his forehead in a gentle motion.
“Mmm…” he stirred beneath your touch, brow furrowing as a quiet murmur slipped from his lips—something too soft to make out.
You froze, hand stilling against his hair as your breath caught in your throat. For a moment, you thought he might fall back into the rhythm of sleep, but then his lashes fluttered, and his eyes opened, heavy-lidded and hazy with sleep.
“y/n…?” His voice was low, gravelly, and his gaze landed on you, soft and unfocused.
“Oh… hi…” you whispered. A warmth crept into your cheeks as his eyes lingered on you. “Sorry I, uh… didn’t mean to wake you.”
He blinked slowly, a sleepy smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he rubbed at his eyes.
“Hey… no it’s fine. You okay?”
“Yeah… um. I…” You swallowed hard, your gaze darting down to your lap as your hands curled into the fabric of your nightgown. “I just… couldn’t sleep.”
Immediately, his expression softened, the lingering traces of sleep in his gaze giving way to a quiet concern. He shifted, propping himself up on one elbow as his other hand reached for yours.
“What’s wrong?”
You shook your head, unable to meet his gaze as the words caught in your throat.
“Nothing,” you hesitate. “I just… couldn’t stop thinking.”
He let out a quiet hum, filled with understanding, before sighing softly. His hand tugged at yours, gently pulling you closer.
“C’mere…”
Before you could protest, you found yourself lying beside him, the warmth of his body seeping into yours as his arm wrapped securely around your waist. He shifted slightly, his chest pressing against your back as the blankets rustled around you both.
You felt his chest rumble against you as he let out a sleepy hum, his hand brushing lightly against your abdomen in a slow, comforting rhythm.
“Better?”
Your breath caught for a moment at the intimacy of it all—the way his face nuzzled against the crook of your neck, his nose brushing lightly against your skin.
“Um… yeah,” you whispered, letting yourself relax into him. “You’re… warm.”
“Mmhm…” his lips curved into the faintest smile as he burrowed closer. “One of my many talents… ‘m like… a human heater,” his words slurred slightly as sleep tugged at the edges of his voice. “Should charge for this, honestly.”
You let out a quiet laugh despite yourself, carrying away the weight of your earlier worries.
“Yeah… right. Is there anything you don’t think you should charge for?”
As he considered your question, his head tilted slightly, breath ghosting across your neck.
“Dunno…” he murmured, halfway between wakefulness and sleep. “Smiles, maybe. Those are free… but only f’you.”
You shifted slightly, turning your head just enough to peer back at him. The corners of his lips tugged up into a slow, lazy grin as one eye cracked open at you.
“Oh yeah?”
“Yup,” his grin widened. “See? Free of charge.”
“You’re ridiculous,” you muttered, returning his grin.
Ah… all your worries were once again melting away.
As you shifted in the bed to face him, you allowed your eyes to fully meet his.
His legs tangled with yours beneath the blankets, and his hands slid to rest at the small of your back—tracing lazy circles, lulling you into a calm you hadn’t realized you’d been craving.
“And you’re thinking too much again,” his nose brushed against yours in a playful nudge. “What’s goin’ on in that pretty little head of yours?”
You held your breath as your fingers curled lightly against the fabric of his shirt, gripping it for some kind of anchor.
“I… I dunno…” you exhaled heavily. “I just… I’m worried, I guess.”
“About Haru?” he asked gently.
You hesitated, your gaze falling as your lips parted slightly, but no words came out. The silence hung between you.
He’s not wrong… but that’s not entirely all of it.
You’re worried about… everything. About him. About this.
About… us.
The weight of your quiet made something shift in him. He didn’t push, didn’t pry. Instead, his hand continued its soothing motion against your back.
“Hey now…” he murmured sleepily. “Nothin’s gonna happen. You’re safe. Haru’s safe. I got this.”
You look up at him through your lashes, and his own gaze was heavy lidded—the striking blue of his eyes softened by a quiet intimacy.
“How… can you be so sure?” you whispered shakily.
“Because ’m me,” he replied simply, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips. It was lazy, sleepy, but so undeniably Satoru. “And I don’t lose. Ever. It’s, like… my whole fucking thing.”
You couldn’t help it—the small laugh that escaped you was quiet and soft, muffled against the broad expanse of his chest as he pulled you closer.
“Your confidence is almost as annoying as it is reassuring...”
“See? Multi-talented,” he quipped, and his hand against your back slowed as the sleep threatened to overtake him, but the lazy circles never ceased. “Seriously, though… whatever’s got you tied up in knots, don’t carry it alone. ’m here… always.”
His words settled over, wrapping around the edges of your anxiety. Your cheek nuzzled into the soft fabric of his shirt as you nodded wordlessly—molding your body against his.
“I just… don’t want to bother you.”
“You could never bother me,” he whispered, lips brushing against your temple in a fleeting kiss. “You’re kinda like… my favorite person, y’know?”
All the unease that was weighing you down burned away as a warmth curled throughout your body. His breathing began to slow, evening out into a steady rhythm.
Once you felt his hand on your back grow still, you thought he’d drifted off, but then his drowsy voice broke the silence—filled with a quiet conviction.
“I got you princess… always.”
A small, tired smile tugged at your lips.
“Thanks, Satoru…” you whispered as your eyes fluttered closed.
The hum that rumbled from his chest in response was faint, coupled with the way his arm tightened slightly around you, pulling you even closer. And in his warmth, enveloped by the steady cadence of his breathing and the solid presence of him beside you, you felt the faint stirrings of peace. Sleep crept in gently, pulling you under in soft, lulling waves, and this time, you let it.
“Yoo-hoo, sleepyhead. Still waking up?” His voice breaks through your thoughts, teasing, and very much awake.
Your eyes snap to his again, startled, and now, you found him smirking at you, propped up on one elbow. His hair is tousled from sleep, white strands falling messily over his forehead, and his eyes—those piercing, crystalline blues—hold a glint of amusement.
“Oh… um, yeah. g’morning,” you blink, heat rising to your cheeks as the weight of his gaze settles on you.
He rests his head on the pillow beside you, reverently running his hand up your cheek. You hope he doesn’t feel how hot it’s growing under his gaze.
“You’re red.”
Well, fuck.
“And you’re staring…” you murmur quietly.
“Can you blame me?” he replies with a smirk. “You look way too fucking good in my bed.”
Your blush deepens, and you turn your head slightly to break his gaze, though the small smile tugging at your lips betrays you.
“I… just…”
“Was trying to seduce me, huh?”
Your eyes snap back to his, wide with indignation.
“Wha—I told you I couldn’t sleep!”
“Sure, sure,” he scoots closer to you, lips curling into a devious grin. “Buuuut… you were clinging to me a moment ago. Should’ve seen it. Super cute.”
“Tch… I was not clinging,” you protest, pulling the blankets over your body as your cheeks burn hotter.
“Uh-huh,” he hums, unconvinced, growing impossibly smug. “You sure about that? Pretty sure you mumbled my name in your sleep, too.”
Your mouth falls open, words failing you as you sputter, “I—I did not!”
“Oh, you absolutely did,” he replies smoothly, grin stretching into a smirk. “It was quite adorable. Almost melted on the spot.”
Fuck… did you?
Your eyes narrow as he flashes those pearly white teeth at you.
Nah. He’s fucking with you, you know better.
“Yeah right. You’re making that up,” you huff, rolling your eyes.
“Maybe,” he admits, shrugging one shoulder casually. “But you’ll never know, will you?”
“Unbelievable,” you mutter, giving him a playful shove. “Besides, you’re one to talk. You snore!”
He scoffs. “I do not snore.”
“You do,” you counter smugly. “Loudly. Like, so damn loud I’m surprised it didn’t wake up Haru.”
His eyebrow rises and a mischievous glint flickers in his gaze. “Ohhhh? Alright, alright. Fine then,” his voice drops low as he murmurs, “you really wanna play that game with me?”
Before you can react, he moves. You yelp as in one swift motion, he flips you onto your back, his hands pinning your wrists gently against the mattress as he hovers over you—grin downright wicked.
“Satoru!” you laugh, squirming beneath him. “Get off me!”
“Nope,” he says smugly, his face dipping closer to yours. “You accused me of snoring. That’s slander. Hate to tell ya, but I can’t let it slide.”
Your laughter fades slightly as you feel his weight press against you.
“Oh yeah?” you ask breathlessly, “And… just what are you gonna do about it, Mr. Perfect?”
Those vivid blue eyes darken, and your breath hitches as he dips his head lower, into the crook of your neck, making your heart flip as you feel his lips press a featherlight kiss behind your ear.
“Hmmm… let’s see… I wonder…” his breath tickles your skin as he trails soft kisses down your throat. “How shall I punish you?”
You blink, absorbing his words as a shiver of warmth spreads through your core.
“P-Punish?!” you stammer breathlessly.
“Mhmm...” as his kisses continue downwards, his hands loosen from your wrists, gliding down your arms reverently. “What did y’think was going to happen?”
His hands gingerly descend down your curves, palms pausing at your hips. You feel his fingers slip briefly underneath the hem of your nightgown, just above your abdomen as his lips fall lower, gentle nips against your skin.
“S-Satoru…” you whine as he hums against your skin, a smirk curling upon his lips.
“C’mon now… you come into my room… crawl into my bed… wearing these thin little pajamas…”
His thumbs rub smooth circles across your abdomen, and you feel yourself beginning to get hot.
“I wasn’t—haaa” the words die on your lips as his hand rises to the curve of your breast, thumb grazing the hardened peak of your nipple through the material of your sleepwear.
“Wasn’t what?” you’re squirming as he pebbles your nipple slowly. “Trying to drive me crazy? Showing up like this… what’s a guy to do?”
His other hand slides higher, slipping beneath the hem of your gown, and with a gentle tug, he pushes the fabric up. His eyes darken as more of your skin is revealed.
“So fucking beautiful,” he murmurs, his thumb rolling over your bare nipple now, sending a sharp jolt of pleasure straight to your core. “Last night… couldn’t see you clearly in the dark, but now…”
His lips follow his hands, closing around your nipple, and the warm, wet heat of his tongue makes your body arch, your fingers gripping the sheets as a soft whimper escapes you.
“Nngh… S-Satoru…”
“Mm… fuck yes, say it again,” he pants, his lips releasing your nipple with a sinful pop. “Say m’ name, baby. Wanna hear how bad you need me.” He switches his attention to your other breast, lavishing it with the same care—licking, sucking, each gentle nip sending another rush of arousal pooling down your thighs.
With a shake of your head, you try to bite back the desperate sound clawing its way up your throat, but as his hand descends lower, gliding down your hip, you feel his fingers brush against your inner thigh and your body betrays you.
A needy whimper slips out as you open your legs eagerly for him, earning you a cocky smirk. It curls upon Satoru’s lips as he nibbles your nipple between his teeth—vivid blue eyes looking up at you through fluttering white lashes.
“Hah. Look at that,” he breathes, flicking the hardened peak with his tongue. “Didn’t even have to ask, and those pretty little legs opened right up for me.”
The pure arrogance in his voice sets your skin on fire.
“Sh-shut up,” you snap weakly, trying your best to glare at him as a flush creeps up your neck. “You just—haaa…”
The words are stolen from you the moment his mouth begins its descent—trailing kisses lower, his tongue swiping down your abdomen in slow, wet circles, agonizingly closer to your dripping pussy.
“Hmm?” His head tilts as his thumb brushes so close to your center that your entire body shudders. You feel his breath between your legs. “Something you want, sweetheart? You gotta use your words.”
Fucking cocky ass.
Your lips part, but you hesitate—pride warring with need, the unbearable ache between your thighs clouding your thoughts.
He clicks his tongue, mockingly disappointed. A pout on those pretty lips—lips you want buried in your cunt.
“Tch. Guess you don’t want it that bad, huh?”
His fingers continue to skate up your thigh, stopping short of where you need him, and your frustration rises—hands twisting into the sheets.
“Satoru—” your hips buck involuntarily, but he tuts softly, pulling his hand away just enough to leave you aching for it.
“Mm-mm.” His voice is smooth, cruel in its amusement. “I told you, princess. Use your words.”
Your jaw tightens, nails biting into the sheets as your body trembles with need.
“You are insufferable and so fucking unfair.”
A low sinful laugh rumbles through his chest as he turns his head to your thigh, trailing gentle kisses slowly up to your pussy.
“Unfair?” he echoes as his nose ghosts dangerously over your soaked panties.
He inhales, eyes momentarily slipping shut as he takes in the sweet scent of you. And Jesus, he groans. Actually groans. Like he’s drunk on you.
Your body jerks, hips shifting impatiently under him, but he doesn’t give in. Not yet.
Instead, he arches a brow, looking up at you with that infuriatingly smug expression as he presses a fleeting kiss to your clothed core, making a violent shudder roll through you as the soft hum of his satisfaction vibrates against your heat.
“You said you wanted to savor me, didn’t you?” His lips drag slowly back up your inner thigh, teasing, taunting.
You’re pouting now, glaring down at him like you want to strangle him and kiss him at the same time, and he just chuckles, shaking his head.
“Well?”
“What, expecting me to beg?”
“Tch… stubborn girl…”
His mouth finds its way back to the soaked fabric, and this time, he presses his tongue against it, mouthing at your cunt through your panties. A desperate cry slips past your lips as your head falls back—pussy dripping. His smirk falters.
Fuck, he wants to bury his face in your cunt.
Now he’s the one struggling. You feel his fingers press into your thigh harder, nails biting into flesh, and as he pulls back, eyeing the dark, damp patch of fabric clinging to you.
"Fuck, baby…" His fingers skim slowly over the outline of your soaked folds—his hardening cock twitching in his sweats at the realization. "God… you’re fucking drenched."
You continue to bite your lip, fighting back the needy whimper that is desperate to slip out. His head tilts, shifting into something darker as he looks up at you with those ocean-blue eyes—dilated, raw and starved. God you could get lost in those eyes.
But then, that smug ass grin returns.
“All this? Just f’me?”
“Satoru…” you whine.
He clicks his tongue, resting his cheek against your thigh as he looks up at you affectionately.
“Fair’s fair, baby. I’m gonna savor you. Now then, my pretty girl… what do you want?”
Asshole. He’s playing you. And you want to resist. You really do. But you’re so fucking wet, so aching, so unbearably needy for him. Another breath shudders out of you, and as your voice breaks, your resolve snaps.
“Satoru… please—”
There’s that word. His grin shoots up, something dark and hungry flashing across his face.
“Oh?” His fingers hook around the waistband of your panties. “Please what baby? Be specific.”
Fucking hell. You’re losing it.
“Jesus, fuck. Touch me,” you gasp, finally breaking. “Fuck, please Satoru—just touch me already. Want you—eep!”
Before you can even breathe, he’s ripping your panties down, shoving your thighs wide open, spreading your needy, dripping cunt out for him to see as he curses under his breath. His restraint snaps and oh, he’s wrecked. A filthy groan slips from his lips as he admires you, laid out for him—his cock twitching violently at the sight.
"Look at this perfect little pussy," he groans, and you mewl as he presses two fingers to your soaked folds, just barely parting them as he spreads your slick between his fingers in awe. “Heh… so fucking wet. Your little cunt is just begging to be filled, isn’t it?”
As he circles the rim of your sex, your body clenches needily around nothing, making another whine escape you as your thighs threaten to snap shut—but he grips them firmly, keeping you spread.
"Nuh-uh, sweetheart. Let me see you. Fuck, look at you," he watches transfixed as his finger presses in—just barely the tip sinking inside before pulling back.
You can feel your slick glistening down your thighs, and you shudder, back arching, voice quaking as he finally sinks his long, thick finger fully inside.
“Ahhh—Satoru!”
A downright dangerous smirk stretches across his lips as he begins to stretch you.
"Mmn… fuck, you feel so tight," your spongey walls grip him as he slowly twists his finger inside, your arousal dripping down his knuckles.
And he’s utterly transfixed, his cock throbbing against the mattress where he lays—watching you take it. He releases a shuddering breath as he shifts, gripping your thighs as he presses you forward, keeping you pinned.
"Greedy fucking hole...” he groans, eyes glued to where you're clenching around him, pumping into your pussy with slow, deep thrusts. “Wanna stuff this hungry little cunt so fucking full..."
The moment he curls his finger just right—dragging against that perfect spot, you cry out.
There’s that pretty little word again. His eyes flick up to your face, and he’s relishing in this—you—blushing, panting, watching him with an expression that absolutely wrecks him. Licking his lips, he exhales harshly, leaning forward.
“Good girl, begging so sweet f’me.”
You feel his hot breath fanning against your core, and your thighs tremble as he ghosts those glossy lips over your slick folds—teasing you with the contact you desperately crave.
The moment his pink tongue flicks out, he groans—licking a slow, torturous stripe from your entrance up to your throbbing clit, making your whole-body jerk. A sharp cry rips from your throat as he hums against your cunt.
“Fuck…” he pants, licking and curling his finger in tandem now, “nngh… taste better than I imagined.”
His grip slides lower, kneading your ass before he yanks you closer, burying himself deeper between your thighs. The sudden force makes you yelp, but the sound quickly dissolves into a whimper as his mouth wraps about your clit—curling, flicking, savoring every drop of arousal dripping onto his lips.
“S-Sator… nnngh… fuck.”
You see stars, squirming and trembling around his face as his tongue accompanies his finger— delving deep into your tight hole. His hips rut involuntarily against the bed, cock straining unbearably in his sweats as precum leaks through the fabric.
“Mmm...” he hums against you, a sinful smirk curling as he drags his tongue up your slit again, slow and deliberate. “Fuck yes… wanna drown in your cunt.”
He’s back on you voraciously, low hungry moans mixing with the wet noises of your pussy. You pant, looking down at him and oh, he’s ravenous. His face buries between your legs as those blue eyes flick up through messy white lashes, drinking in the way you writhe for him.
And writhing for him you are. Satoru is loving it—seeing your face flushed a pretty pink, panting, your breasts heaving as you shudder against him.
“Haaa—look at you,” he pulls back, flicking his tongue rapidly over your clit now. “Heh… wanna make you squirm and shake until you're nothing but an incoherent mess, beggin’ for my cock."
You’re squirming now, eyes fluttering shut as your clint tingles from the rising pressure building within your tummy. But as you feel his second finger slip into your cunt, your eyes snap open and a desperate sob breaks from your lips. You were so close.
"Ohmygod—Satoru, please—"
He hums in amusement, lapping at your sweet essence. "Haaa... I dunno… maybe I'll grant you what you want, pretty girl,” he’s panting now, scissoring your cunt fervently between each filthy word. “Stuff your needy little hole with my thick, hard cock until you can't take any more. Bet you’d like that, huh?”
Your voice is barely coherent now, broken between ragged gasps and desperate whimpers. “Yes… yes… wan’ you ‘toru… m’close…”
Desperate to grip onto something, your fingers find purchase on his hair, slipping through the soft white strands as you pull him close, shamelessly grinding yourself on his pretty face, clenching against him as your arousal coats his lips.
“Mmmngh…” Satoru groans against your cunt, eyes rolling back in ecstasy as you use his mouth. His cock throbs eagerly against the mattress as he devours you like a man starved.
Fuck, he's so hard it hurts, aching to bury himself inside your perfect little cunt.
He fully gives in, releasing his fingers to pull you close—wrapping your legs around his shoulders as his tongue plunges deep—fucking into your entrance as he laps up your dripping arousal—nose brushing against your clit as you rock on his face. You’re on the brink of coming undone.
As your fingers tug at his hair, hips rolling wildly, Satoru groans into your heat, reverberating through your core. You look down to see those glassy eyes flutter open, locking onto yours, watching every little tremor of your body as the pleasure wrecks you.
And then you snap.
Your pussy clamps down around his tongue, a sob ripping from your throat as your orgasm crashes over you. Satoru groans through it, tongue pressing deeper as your walls pulse violently, drenching his eager mouth as he savors every drop of your release.
His cock jerks violently, aching with need as he drinks you down, eyes flickering shut as he hums against your overstimulated clit, prolonging your pleasure until you’re trembling uncontrollably above him.
Finally spent, your grip on his hair loosens, and your hips still as your trembling slows. Satoru gentles his kisses as he eases you down from your high, his hands trailing light, soothing circles on your thighs.
"Mmm, that's it, princess. Came so fucking hard for me..." he murmurs smugly against your sensitive flesh, pressing one last lingering kiss against your swollen clit before pulling back. His lips and chin glisten with your release as he smirks down at you. "You taste fucking incredible..."
As you watch him lick his lips hungrily, you realize he’s still not sated—not even close. Your gaze narrows to the obscene bulge straining against his grey sweats, pooling with precum. He follows your line of sight, eyes dragging down to the tent in his pants before meeting yours again, his smirk deepening.
“See what you do to me?” he pitches forward, and you shudder as his forearms bracket your head, looming over you. “Fuck… want you…” His lips graze your jaw, his voice a low, desperate rasp. “You felt so good around my fingers… can just imagine this greedy little cunt wrapped around my cock.”
But then, suddenly, the bedroom door swings open.
"Mama! The sun is up. Let’s go downstairs and play!"
Oh God.
The air is sucked straight from your lungs as Haru’s tiny voice rings through the room like a gunshot. Both you and Satoru freeze, horror crashing down like a tidal wave.
Thankfully, Satoru reacts first.
With lightning-fast reflexes, he rolls to the side, yanking you with him, shielding your naked body as he drags the sheets up in a last-ditch effort at preserving what’s left of your dignity. Haru stands in the doorway, rubbing the sleep from her eyes with tiny fists, completely oblivious to the absolute disaster she’s just walked in on.
You slap a hand over your mouth, trying—failing—not to let out a panicked squeak, and Satoru, still rock-hard and reeling from the sheer whiplash of the moment, clears his throat.
“H-Hey, kiddo… uh… what’s up?”
Haru pouts at him, unimpressed. “Where’s Mama? I want Mama.”
“Oh, uh… right.” Satoru laughs, but it’s high and strained, barely holding it together as he tightens his hold around you.
You can feel the mortification radiating off him in waves, and before either of you can scramble for a better excuse, there’s another voice.
“Haru? Where’d you go? Oh—OH MY—”
The nanny—Remi.
She halts in the doorway like she’s just walked into a crime scene, brown eyes going comically round as her hands fly to her mouth. Her sleek dark hair is pulled into a ponytail, her uniform crisp as always, but her composure? Completely shattered. Her face turns a shade of red, one that rivals yours as she sees you and Satoru tangled up in the sheets.
“Oh! Uh—Haru, sweetie—” She clears her throat, trying and failing to sound normal. “Why don’t we head downstairs? Your parents will be down soon!”
Satoru audibly chokes on air, and you feel his body tense beside you. But Haru, ever persistent, pouts.
“But I wanna—”
“I’ll make waffles! Extra syrup! Maybe even some whipped cream—doesn’t that sound fun?” Remi is already halfway out the door, all but dragging Haru with her.
Haru hesitates for a split second, then gasps. “Whipped cream?!”
“Yep! Let’s go!”
And just like that, they’re gone. The door clicks shut, leaving a suffocating silence in its wake. You and Satoru remain frozen, your bodies still tangled beneath the sheets, wide-eyed and horrified.
Your entire soul leaves your body.
“Oh. My. God.” you whisper, hands flying to your face as if you can somehow will yourself out of existence. “I am never showing my face outside this room again.”
Beside you, Satoru exhales deeply, stretching out like he doesn’t have a single care in the world.
“Well,” he grins, tilting his head toward you, “that was fun.”
You gape at him, your mortification reaching new levels. “Are you—are you fucking kidding me?”
He just blinks, completely unbothered. “What?”
Groaning, you curl onto your side, burying your face into a pillow. “This is the worst day of my life.”
Satoru’s chuckle rumbles through his chest as he shifts onto his side, propping his head up with his hand. His other hand reaches over, tugging at the pillow you’re desperately clinging to.
“Oh, c’mon, princess,” he hums, infuriatingly smug. “Worst day of your life? Pretty sure five minutes ago you were having the time of your life.”
Your entire body burns hotter than the sun. “Quiet. Do not start—”
“What? Just saying,” his grin widens as his fingers trace lazy patterns down your arm. “One second you were cuming on my tongue, and the next—”
You slap a hand over his mouth before he can finish that sentence. “Shut up, shut up, shut up.”
The smirk beneath your palm only deepens, and you shriek, jerking your hand back as his warm tongue flicks out against your skin.
“Satoru!?”
He bursts into laughter, utterly shameless, before effortlessly pulling you into his arms. His grip is warm, steady, and one hand slides up, smoothing down your messy hair as he tucks a stray strand behind your ear.
“You’re always so cute when you’re flustered,” he murmurs, dropping into something softer.
“I am not flustered,” you huff, scowling as you bury you face into his chest, grumbling “I am humiliated.”
A quiet, amused sigh rumbles through him as his fingers begin to trace slow, lazy circles over your hip, featherlight, absentminded. Neither of you move, neither of you rush to untangle from each other—it’s a rare moment of stillness.
“Hey,” he murmurs gently, nudging his nose against your temple. “It’s okay.”
You pout, cheeks still burning, as you peek up at him through your lashes. “How am I ever gonna look Remi in the eye again?”
His lips twitch, amusement flickering behind his bright eyes before he rolls them with exaggerated ease. “Baby, you don’t have to,” he says. “Just stare at her forehead.”
You groan, swatting at his chest as you roll onto your back. “You are so not helpful.”
Satoru laughs, deep and unbothered, before tugging you right back against him. His arms wrap around you easily, pressing you close, his nose nudging against your hair. You feel yourself melting into him as his lips brush a lingering kiss against your temple, soothing the heat burning under your skin.
All you want to do is remain here—tangled up in him, forever. But of course, he reminds you of your reality.
“C’mon, sweetheart,” he murmurs against your hair, fingers tracing delicate lines down your spine. “We’re gonna have to go downstairs at some point.”
You let out a quiet whine, curling in on yourself. “No. We absolutely do not.”
He chuckles, nosing at your temple again. “Why don’t you go ahead and clean up, hm? We’ve got a big day ahead of us. Suguru is expecting us.”
You mumble something unintelligible against his collarbone before sighing, reluctantly peeling yourself away from him, the cool air replacing his warmth making you shiver. As you swing your legs over the edge of the bed, reality crashes back down on you.
"You know, I should’ve known this would happen," you grumble, trudging towards to bathroom. "You never lock the damn door. It’s like the whole fucking bathroom fiasco all over again.”
Satoru grins, plopping back onto the bed lazily. "I didn’t see you complaining when I had my face between your—"
A pillow smacks him square in the face before he can finish. He yelps, half laughing as he dodges your second attempt.
“Don’t worry, I’ll handle the damage control,” he says smugly.
You pause at the bathroom door, squinting at him in pure suspicion. “…What exactly does ‘damage control’ mean?”
That wicked grin stretches across his lips, slow and self-satisfied, his bright eyes gleaming with mischief. “It means I’ll flash Remi a dazzling smile, crack a joke, and act like nothing happened. Works every time.”
You groan, shaking your head as you shuffle through the doorway. “Great… I am so screwed.”
The door clicks shut behind you, and Satoru smirks, settling back into the pillows with a sigh. He can hear the water running, but it barely registers, his mind still clouded with the remnants of you—your warmth, your scent, the way you had unraveled beneath him just minutes ago.
And then his gaze flickers downward.
Your panties—still damp, tangled in the mess of bedding, glistening with your arousal—catch his eye.
His throat tightens. His cock twitches, still painfully hard, still aching with need.
“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath.
He shouldn’t. He really, really shouldn’t. But he’s already reaching for them.
The fabric is still warm, still sticky, and the moment he hooks a finger around the waistband, lifting them to his face, your scent floods his senses. A violent shudder rips through his spine. It’s obscene. It’s filthy. And it makes him impossibly harder.
A deep, guttural groan rumbles in his chest as his hips press into the mattress, instinct taking over. Rolling onto his back, his free hand shoves down his sweats just enough to free his aching cock. Precum smears against his abs, and the first tight stroke around the thick base has his head falling back against the pillows, lips parting on a sharp gasp.
“Haaa—baby…” he grunts, pressing your panties to his face as he his hips buck into his fist.
His mind is still clouded with the way you came apart for him—the way you rode his face, rolling your hips, thighs trembling, voice breaking as you cried his name. His jaw clenches, fingers twisting in the damp lace, pressing it harder against his nose, drowning in the sweet, intoxicating scent of you.
God, he’s obsessed.
His breath turns ragged, his wrist flicking faster as heat coils deep in his gut. He pictures you—perched on top of him, sinking down onto his cock, stretching around him, taking him so perfectly. His body reacts on instinct, rutting up into his palm, fucking into his tight grip with reckless abandon.
“Nnngh… oh yes… fuuuck just like that,” he whimpers, thick with need. “Baby… haaa… gonna have you dripping down my cock next time—ahhh, fuck—"
His rhythm stutters, muscles seizing, toes curling as pleasure crashes over him like a tidal wave. His stomach clenches, his breath catches, and then—
A strangled moan tears from his throat as he spills over his fist, thick, sticky ropes of cum painting his stomach. His body trembles, his chest rising and falling in rapid succession as the last waves of his orgasm rip through him. His eyes squeeze shut as he milks himself dry, accentuating each pulse of release with a shuddering whine, muffled against your panties.
For a few moments, the only sound in the room is his ragged breathing, his limbs lax and boneless against the bed.
Then his eyes flick toward the bathroom door.
The water is still running.
A lazy, satisfied smirk tugs at his lips as he reaches for a tissue from the nightstand, cleaning himself up at an unhurried pace, basking in the post-orgasm haze. His muscles are still tingling, pleasure simmering warm and slow in his veins.
And then he sees them—your panties, still resting on the bed beside him.
He hesitates for only a second before smirking, reaching for the nightstand. The drawer slides open, and with a flick of his wrist, he tucks them inside.
His dirty little secret—maybe for later.
Anyways. Right.
Time to handle damage control.
ꨄ
“Oh! Good morning, sweetheart,” Remi chirps, voice light, easy. “I was wondering when you’d come down.”
She sets a fresh cup of coffee at your usual seat, so natural, so routine, that it momentarily soothes the buzzing in your chest. Oh. She’s being nice. And not weird about it at all.
But then—
“Did you sleep well?”
You freeze mid-step while heat creeps up your neck, blooming across your cheeks before you can smother it. Satoru pauses too, his coffee cup halfway to his lips, but unlike you, he just smirks. That infuriating look flashing in his eyes as he watches you with far too much amusement—scrambling into your seat.
“Oh—uh…” your throat bobs as you swallow hard. “Yeah. I did. Thanks.”
Awkward…
As your throat clears, you internally will yourself to sound as normal as possible, while Satoru—little shit that he is—just keeps watching, just keeps smirking, like he’s waiting for the perfect moment to say something that will make you wish for the sweet release of death.
But thankfully, Remi either doesn’t notice or chooses not to comment.
“Are you hungry?” she asks, already moving toward the counter. “Satoru made you a plate.”
Satoru hums, lazily swirling his coffee.
“She worked up an appetite, m’sure…”
Your foot connects with his shin under the table, and he yelps, nearly spilling his coffee while Haru giggles at his suffering.
With a huff, he rubs his leg, muttering “Violence before breakfast. Unbelievable…” His lips drop into a petulant pout. “Tch… I even slaved over the stove this mornin, all for you…”
Your brow lifts, unimpressed, as Remi giggles—setting the dish down in front of you with an easy flourish. The moment you look down at your plate, you immediately know he’s full of shit.
Waffles. Golden brown. Crisp edges. Beside them… flower-shaped eggs? Yeah, right. Satoru doesn’t make flower-shaped anything.
Slowly, your gaze drags back up to meet his, eyes narrowing. He’s grinning at you far too suspiciously.
“You didn’t make these,” you say matter-of-factly.
His smile falters, just for a second, before he dramatically slumps back in his chair, pouting like a scolded child. “Wow. You didn’t even try to believe it… not even for a second.”
You arch a brow. “Did you expect me to believe it? You—making flower shaped eggs?”
“I tried,” he sighs, slouching forward as he cradles his chin in his palm, looking thoroughly betrayed. “But Remi threatened my life.”
“No, I saved you,” she corrects with a small chuckle.
Satoru groans while Remi shakes her head, muttering quietly to you, “Trust me, sweetheart… you wouldn’t have wanted the eggs he made.”
Haru nods enthusiastically, mouth stuffed full. “’toru’s eggs were crunchy.”
Satoru scoffs, scandalized. “Excuse me. They were caramelized.”
“They were burnt,” Remi supplies sweetly.
“They were enhanced,” Satoru insists, crossing his arms.
You stifle a laugh, finally cutting into your waffles. And just like that, your worries melt away. The morning falls into an easy rhythm—the air humming with warmth, filled with the quiet clatter of silverware, Haru’s happy little kicks against the chair legs. It’s simple. It’s comfortable.
Remi moves through the kitchen with practiced ease, topping off Satoru’s coffee without needing to ask, pausing to wipe a stray smudge of syrup from Haru’s cheek with a fond shake of her head. Everything about her is effortless, warm. Kind.
She takes a seat across from you, cradling her tea in both hands—posture relaxed as she blows gently over the rim.
“So,” she muses, tucking a loose strand of dark hair behind her ear. “Any plans for today?”
You glance at Satoru before answering, catching the way he leans back in his chair, stretching his arms over his head with an exaggerated groan.
“We’re heading into Gojo Corp for a bit,” you say, slicing another piece of waffle. “Got some things to take care of.”
“Ah, work, huh?” Remi hums, taking a slow sip of tea. “Must be nice, working together like that. I imagine it makes things easier… or harder?” Her eyes flick between you and Satoru, a teasing lilt curling at the edges of her voice. “Do you ever get sick of each other?”
Satoru snorts, setting down his coffee with a smirk. “She wishes she got sick of me.”
You roll your eyes, lips twitching despite yourself. “Oh, constantly.”
Remi laughs lightly, shaking her head. “Mmm, I doubt that.”
The conversation drifts easily—small talk about work, about how Haru had insisted on watching the same cartoon three times in a row yesterday. But then, after a comfortable lull, Remi shifts slightly in her seat, her fingers curling gently around the rim of her cup as her voice turns more measured.
“You’re meeting with Suguru Geto today?”
Your head lifts slightly—the shift in her tone catching your attention. Across the table, Satoru’s eyes flick toward her, just barely. So quick, so subtle, you almost miss it.
“Mhm...” you nod, hesitating slightly. “That’s right.”
Remi exhales, shaking her head.
“That’s gotta be tough…” she swirls her tea absentmindedly, watching the liquid move. “The custody case, I mean… he’s got his work cut out for him.”
Your grip tightens slightly around your fork—there’s nothing inherently off about what she’s saying, but still… the reminder sends a ripple of unease through your chest. Maybe it’s the weight of the case itself, or maybe it’s just the exhaustion that comes with constantly thinking about it. You’re not sure.
“He’s exceptional,” Satoru says smoothly, matter-of-factly. He takes a slow sip of his coffee, watching her over the rim of his mug. “There’s no one else I’d trust more than him with this case.”
Remi hums, nodding, but she doesn’t quite meet your gaze right away. “Of course,” she murmurs, offering a small, reassuring smile. “I just mean—it must be a lot for you to deal with. I hope things go smoothly. It’s good that you have someone like him in your corner.”
The warmth in her voice should be comforting, right? Why aren’t you comforted? You find yourself nodding, but the weight of her words begins to bury you. Satoru eyes flick to you as he catches onto your unease. Tilting his head slightly, he studies Remi before immediately shifting gears.
“Remi,” he says, tapping a finger against his plate. “Could you grab some more syrup? Pretty sure I saw it in the cabinet earlier.”
“Oh! Of course,” she chirps, setting her tea down and rising to her feet as she moves toward the pantry.
The moment her back is turned, Satoru leans slightly toward you, his voice dropping just above a whisper. “Don’t let it get to you,” he murmurs, warmth curling around the shell of your ear. “Remember? I got you… always.”
His fingers ghost over your knee beneath the table, brief but grounding, and as you blink up at him, something in the way he’s looking at you—steady, certain—eases the tightness in your chest.
“Yeah…” you whisper, returning his soft smile while your hand settles over his, offering a reassuring squeeze.
But from the corner of your eye, you catch it—Remi, standing by the counter, fingers lingering over the syrup bottle.
…a pause?
Then, so seamlessly it’s almost unnoticeable, she picks it up and turns back around—expression easy, light, slipping back into place like nothing happened.
"So,” she says cheerfully, placing the syrup in front of Satoru before settling back into her seat. “What time do you think you’ll be back? Just wondering if Haru will need dinner before you get home."
The question is innocent. Logical, even. It makes perfect sense for her to ask. And yet—
Something about it feels… off?
No. Perhaps you’re imagining it. Maybe you’re just on edge. Overthinking things.
After all, Remi is kind.
ꨄ
“Every time I walk in here, I think it can’t possibly get worse,” Suguru mutters, loosening his tie as he sinks into one of the chairs opposite Satoru’s desk. “And yet, you continue to outdo yourself.”
Your gaze sweeps over the office, and you find yourself reluctantly agreeing. The space is massive, floor-to-ceiling windows offering a sprawling, ridiculous view of the Tokyo skyline. It looks professional, should feel professional—but the illusion is broken the second you take in the state of the room.
Satoru’s desk is buried under a chaotic mess of papers, some crumpled, others half-stacked, as if he had started to organize them before giving up halfway. A small dish of candy sits beside the keyboard, its contents long gone, save for the sea of discarded wrappers. Against the far wall, an obnoxiously comfortable-looking leather couch sits, one you know has seen more of Satoru’s midday naps than actual work.
And then, there’s the final touch—Suguru gestures toward the golf club leaning against the bookshelf, his brow arching.
“You don’t even play golf.”
Satoru barely glances up from where he’s lazily spinning in his chair, a smug grin curling his lips.
“It’s for decoration.”
Suguru groans, rolling his eyes as he tries to make room for his documents on the desk. You sigh, already moving to help, straightening the mess with quick, practiced hands.
"Everything in this office is for decoration,” you mutter, stacking papers into an organized pile before flicking your gaze to Satoru. “Including you.”
Satoru is pleased—gasping dramatically as he places a hand over his heart.
“Oh? So you admit I enhance the ambiance?” His smirk is all teeth. “Always knew I was a statement piece. Finally, my wife admits I’m nice to look at.”
You roll your eyes, heat creeping up your neck. “Yeah… that’s not what I said.”
Leaning forward, Satoru props his elbows on the desk, vivid blue eyes twinkling with mischief.
“Mmm, no, but it’s what you meant.”
Suguru doesn’t even look up from his folder. “I know what she meant.” Then, flipping a page, he glances at you. “Lemme guess. He makes you do all the work?”
“Yup.”
Suguru clicks his tongue, unimpressed, before turning his unimpressed stare on Satoru. The man, unbothered as ever, leans back in his chair, throwing his hands up in an exaggerated shrug.
“What?” Satoru says, unabashed. “I’ve always loved her work ethic. It’s inspiring, really. Besides, delegation is the mark of true corporate genius. You wouldn’t understand, Suguru.”
Suguru levels him with a flat stare, then tilts his head toward the far end of the office.
“Oh yeah? And tell me, how exactly does a gumball machine contribute to your corporate genius? Or is that also for decoration.”
You follow his gaze toward the bright red gumball machine standing proudly in the corner, positioned beside a sleek espresso maker.
“Oh, that?” Satoru grins like he’s just been waiting for someone to ask. “That’s for morale.”
You scoff, cutting Suguru a knowing look before shaking your head. “I hate that I kind of believe that…” you mutter under your breath.
Suguru exhales slowly, pinching the bridge of his nose before dragging a hand down his face. There’s a tired sort of patience in his movements, like he’s been through this song and dance too many times before.
“Right…” he mutters, shaking his head. “I swear you designed this office specifically to avoid working.”
Satoru’s grin only stretches wider, unabashed. “Exactly.” He props his feet up on the desk, reclining with the ease of a man without a single real responsibility.
Suguru gives him a flat look. Then, with a quiet thud, he slides a thick folder onto the desk.
“Well… not today.”
The energy in the room shifts. Satoru’s gaze flicks to you, the teasing glint in his eyes softening as he drops his feet back to the floor. You straighten slightly in your seat as Suguru clicks his pen, tone all business now.
“Alright. Custody battles always boil down to one thing—what’s in the best interest of the child.” His eyes flick between you and Satoru as he flips through his notes. “The court isn’t concerned with what either parent wants. They’re focused on stability, consistency, and overall well-being for Haru.”
You nod, but there’s a pressure settling in your chest. You already know what’s best for Haru—being here, with you, with Satoru. She barely even knows Naoya. The idea of a judge, a complete stranger, making that decision for her makes your stomach twist.
Suguru’s voice cuts through your thoughts. “First things first,” he says, flipping to another section of his notes. “We need to establish parental involvement. Has Naoya been active in Haru’s life at all?”
“No,” you don’t hesitate.
Suguru doesn’t look surprised, but his gaze lifts slightly, assessing. “Never?”
You shake your head, pressing your lips together.
"He didn’t want to be involved," you say quietly. "I tried… but it was like pulling teeth just to get him to acknowledge her, especially before we separated. It wasn’t until I filed for child support that he started using her as a tool, and he kept delaying the court date, always coming up with some excuse.”
“Oh?” Suguru’s brows lift slightly. “You filed for child support? When was that?”
“Um… about a year ago.” Your fingers fidget in your lap. “Shortly after I left him.”
There’s a pause as Suguru jots something down. His expression remains neutral, but there’s a sharpness to his eyes, a calculating edge as he pieces together the information.
Then, as casually as ever, he asks, “And how did he react? When you left him?”
ꨄ
Dinner was plated, still steaming.
You had made his favorite—teriyaki salmon, perfectly seared, a side of rice, miso soup. You had set the table, poured him a drink. Everything was in its place, arranged to look as normal as possible.
But it wasn’t normal. The packed bags by the door gave everything away.
The apartment was quiet—too quiet. The kind of silence that made your ears ring. Haru sat on the floor, cross-legged, focused on her blocks. Her little hands moved diligently, stacking each one with careful precision, humming to herself—untouched by the weight pressing down on your chest. When the tower inevitably toppled, the wooden blocks clattered against the floor, breaking the silence for only a moment before fading back into stillness.
Your palms pressed flat against the kitchen counter; fingers splayed against the cool surface as you tried to steady yourself. Any minute now. Any minute now.
Then—
The door creaked open.
Your breath hitched, your body going rigid as Naoya stepped inside. The keys in his hand clinked as he set them on the entry table. Exhaling, he rustled his hair as his gaze swept across the apartment, moving from the dinner waiting on the carefully set table until suddenly, he froze—eyes narrowing as they landed on the bags.
For a second, there was nothing. No words. No movement. Just a long, unnerving silence. And then—
“The fuck is this?”
His voice was quiet. Too quiet—the kind of quiet that had always meant danger. Your stomach curled in on itself, your muscles locking as if bracing for impact. You opened your mouth, trying to summon the words you had rehearsed in your head over and over and over again—but they lodged in your throat.
Instead, all you could manage was—
“I… made your favorite.”
You gestured toward the table—toward the salmon. As if that was the thing that needed explaining. As if that was the thing that mattered. He rolled his eyes, kicking off his shoes before striding toward the bags.
“You know that’s not what I fucking asked.”
Grabbing the zipper of your bag, a scoff ripped from his throat as he yanked it open, revealing its contents. Clothes. Toiletries. Haru’s favorite stuffed Pikachu. The things people pack when they don’t plan on coming back.
“You goin’ somewhere, sweets?”
Every instinct was screaming at you to run, run, run. But your feet stayed planted, rooted to the spot as if the very air had turned thick and unmovable. Your fingers curled against your palms as you forced the words out quietly.
“I… I think we need time apart.”
The moment the words left your lips, Naoya barked out a laugh—loud, sharp, mocking. He actually doubled over, hands on his knees, shaking his head as if you had just told the funniest joke in the world.
“That’s cute,” he mused, catching his breath between laughs, his voice dropping into something almost patronizing. When he straightened, his eyes pinned you in place, something unreadable flickering behind them. Something dangerous.
“And tell me, sweetheart—where the fuck do you think you’re going?”
Your breath caught, and he saw it—your hesitation, the way your lips pressed together, how your fingers twitched by your sides. A slow, cruel smirk curled at his lips, dripping in amusement.
“Oh,” he breathed, shaking his head in disbelief. “So, you don’t even have a plan?”
Another sharp laugh pushed past his lips—low, cruel, unforgiving. But just as quickly as it came, it vanished. His expression hardened, eyes darkening as his jaw clenched. The shift was so sudden, so jarring, you felt the air leave your lungs.
Holding your breath, your gaze followed him as he began slowly pacing, like he was working himself up. “Jesus fucking Christ…” he muttered, fingers pressing against his temples. His next exhale came out shaky, forced. “You’re so fucking stupid sometimes, you know that?”
“Naoya… please—”
“Stupid BITCH!”
The explosion came out of nowhere.
The sheer force of his voice rattled through your chest, slammed against the walls, reverberated through the floor beneath your feet.
A brief silence followed—Haru’s humming stopped. As you stood there—eyes wide, Naoya glaring at you—in the corner of your eye, you saw your daughter stilling, suddenly silent in the middle of stacking her blocks.
Shit.
Swallowing hard, you forced your voice to steady, lowering it, softening it, as if that would keep things from spiraling further.
“Naoya… let’s just talk, okay? I—”
The next thing you knew, a ceramic plate shattered at your feet.
The impact was violent—shards splintering across the floor, cutting through the quiet like a gunshot. You flinched so hard your entire body jerked back while Haru let out a sharp breath from across the room.
Chest heaving, pulse thundering, your eyes zeroed in on the scattered debris, glinting under the kitchen light—sharp, jagged edges that could have easily torn through skin if you had been just one step closer.
“Fuck… see what you fucking make me do?” he muttered, shaking his head as he paced across the kitchen. “You always push me, always fucking nagging, like some goddamn broken record. I give you everything, and you still bitch like an ungrateful little—”
His voice blurred. You were barely hearing him anymore. Your pulse was too loud, roaring in your head as a ringing sound began to drown him out—drown everything out.
"Shit, baby…"
The shift was instantaneous.
You blinked, refocusing, and suddenly—he was in front of you.
Close. Too close. His fingers curled around your wrist—not harshly, but firmly.
“Look, I…” He exhaled, rubbing a hand down his face before raking it through his hair. When his eyes met yours, something in them was different. Softer. More open, more human.
“I didn’t mean that,” he said, quieter now. “You know I—” He let out a heavy breath, like he was the one suffering. “I love you, baby. So much. You just make me crazy sometimes, you know that?”
The whiplash sent your thoughts into a tailspin. The heat of his palm against your wrist. The gentleness in his voice. Your body screamed at you to pull away, to resist.
But your heart—your stupid, aching heart—
“You don’t have to do this, baby.” Naoya’s thumb brushed over the inside of your wrist, slow, soothing. Tethering. “I get it. Things have been… rough lately. I’ve been stressed, work’s been a fucking nightmare, and I know I take that out on you sometimes.”
You swallowed hard, breath hitching, vision blurring as you blinked back the sting behind your eyes. This is what he did. This was how he made you stay.
He spun words into silk, wove apologies into something tender, something careful.
A beautiful lie.
"I'll fix it," he promised, his lips curling into something almost boyish, like he already knew he'd won. "I'll take better care of you, yeah? You and Haru. We can fix this. Just… stay. Stay right where you belong."
For a second—just a second—your mind whispered the possibility.
Maybe it could be different this time. Maybe he meant it. This is fixable…right? Things could be okay if you just—
No.
No.
This was the cycle. The same fucking cycle that had been spinning over and over and over again.
Rage. Apology. Empty promises. Repeat.
You had seen this moment before. Felt this warmth, heard this regret, let these pretty little words lull you into submission. And every single time—every single time—you had fallen for it.
But not this time.
Naoya’s grip tightened the longer you stayed quiet, making your breathing quicken now—shallow, panicked. His gaze flicked across your face, calculating, searching for an answer he wanted—needed—to hear.
"Baby?" His voice was still soft, but there was something sharp underneath. "You wanna sit down with me?"
You swallowed hard. And then, somehow—somehow—you found your voice.
"I… can’t," you whispered.
For a second, nothing moved. Not the air, not the world, not even him.
His fingers curled tighter around your wrist—just long enough to send ice shooting through your veins—before loosening again.
"You can’t what?"
“I’m leaving Naoya. And I’m taking Haru.”
His lips parted for a moment, but nothing came out, until finally, those wicked lips curled into something cruel—amused.
"C’mon now… you don’t mean that," he said, like it was a joke, like you were saying something ridiculous. "You’re just upset."
His hand lifted, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. Too soft. Too gentle. Your skin burned under a touch you once leaned into, once believed in.
"You don’t really wanna do this, baby," his thumb ghosts over your cheek. "I get it. Things have been stressful, I haven’t been at my best, but you’re being ridiculous. You don’t have to go and make a scene."
As his fingers skimmed the curve of your jaw, cradling it like something fragile, you held your breath. It’s the very same caress he’d always use after losing his temper—after breaking something—brushing the tear trailing down your cheek, like he was trying to rewrite reality, trying to pull you back into the script.
"Let’s just sit down and eat, hm?" he coaxed, smooth as silk. "You made my favorite, didn’t you? It smells incredible. We should eat before it gets cold."
He was smiling now, gentle, reassuring—like none of this had happened. Like if you just sat down, everything would go back to normal. Like you wouldn’t still feel the tremble in your hands, the stinging heat of his words.
As you opened your mouth to speak, he pulled you close.
"Don’t do this, baby," he whispered, pressing his forehead against yours for just a moment. His breath was warm against your lips. "Just… be good for me, okay?"
Be good for me.
The words settled over you like oil, thick and suffocating. And suddenly, blinking through your own empty haze, everything became too clear.
The shards of ceramic scattered at your feet. The tiny splinters of glass catching the light. The dining table still set, untouched. Waiting for someone to sit down. As if there wasn’t a shattered plate on the floor.
As if he hadn’t just thrown it. As if he wasn’t capable of so much worse.
Rage. Apology. Empty promises. Repeat.
"I’m leaving," you repeated.
His fingers twitched, then released you altogether. Exhaling through his nose, he shook his head, disappointed—as if you were being unreasonable.
"You’re nothing without me," he muttered.
The words settled like a weight in your stomach, but you remained silent.
His lips curled as his head tilted slightly, scanning you like he was recalibrating, assessing—trying to find a new way to break you down.
"N o t h i n g," he repeated, slower this time, dragging the word out like it was something filthy.
The first tear slipped down your cheek before you could stop it. A quiet, shaky sob caught in your throat, but you swallowed it back.
Naoya wasn’t finished.
"Look at you," he scoffed, shaking his head. "Pathetic. You wouldn’t last a fucking week without my money. You’re a failure. A desperate little bitch who got knocked up and thought she could trap me with a useless kid."
A sharp breath punched from your lungs, a gasp—small, broken. He could degrade you all he wanted. He had done it before, and he would do it again. But Haru?
Something inside you splintered, something that had been held together by fear and exhaustion and the faintest hope that maybe—maybe he could change.
"Haru is not useless."
The words left your mouth before you even realized you had spoken them, and Naoya stilled—brow arching slightly, as if he hadn’t expected you to speak at all.
Your pulse thrummed; your hands curled into fists at your sides. You could feel the wetness in your lashes, the tremor in your shoulders. But you didn’t stop.
"And… I’d rather be miserable than be stuck with you."
Silence.
For once, Naoya was stunned into stillness. His lips parted, but nothing came out. You had never spoken back like that before. And for a fleeting, reckless moment—you felt something close to power.
But then, his expression twisted. Something ugly. Something furious. And you knew.
Fuck. You had just made a mistake.
"YOU—"
Closing your eyes, the drywall beside your head shook, caving in under his fist while dust and plaster rained onto your shoulder.
The ringing in your ears swallowed everything—your own heartbeat, the distant hum of the light, the sharp inhale you barely managed to take as your body locked up.
For the first time, you thought—really, truly thought—he was going to kill you.
You didn’t dare move.
He was yelling now, screaming in your face, his words pouring out in a torrent of unfiltered venom. But his voice was just noise now. A violent storm battering against you, word after word, crashing like waves, over and over and over.
You couldn’t hear him.
Your mind had detached, floating somewhere far away, just outside your own body. Your vision blurred at the edges; your limbs trembled so violently you thought your knees might give out.
Then—through the haze, you saw him move.
A sharp pivot. Footsteps, heavy, stomping toward the bedroom. The door slammed so hard the walls shook. And then—
Silence.
Your body didn’t move. Couldn’t move. The seconds ticked by, stretching into something unbearable, something suffocating. Your chest was so tight it ached, but your lungs kept shuddering, gasping for air.
Then, like a puppet whose strings had been severed, you crumpled. Your back hit the wall, legs giving out beneath you as you collapsed onto the floor—a sob ripping through you before you could stop it.
It tore out of your chest, raw, unrestrained. It wrecked through your entire body, like something primal, something beyond your control. Your fingers curled against your arms, clutching at your own skin, trying to hold yourself together—trying to keep from unraveling completely.
Choked gasps echoed into the emptiness of the apartment, your sobs reverberating against the walls. You sucked in a shuddering breath—trying, desperate to regain control—
And that’s when you heard it.
A whimper.
Your entire body jerked. Your head snapped up so fast your vision swam. The air in your lungs froze.
Haru.
You turned—where she had been sitting, where her tiny hands had been stacking blocks—
Empty. She’s gone.
Panic surged through your veins, crashing into you like ice. You scrambled onto your feet, nearly stumbling in your haste, your vision tunneling as your breath came fast, sharp—
"Haru?"
Silence.
Dread curled around your ribs, sinking its claws deep. You turned frantically, scanning the apartment, searching, praying.
"Haru?!"
Nothing.
Your heartbeat was deafening as you staggered forward, checking behind the couch, peering around the kitchen island. She wasn’t there. She wasn’t there.
Then—
Another small, muffled whimper.
You spun, pulse hammering against your ribs as you followed the sound, eyes landing on a cupboard. A small, low cabinet beneath the sink. The one that had never really locked properly. The one just big enough to—
Your breath hitched, and dropping to your knees, your fingers shook as you reached for the handle. You pulled the door open, and there she was—curled up inside, her knees drawn to her chest, tiny hands covering her ears, her small body trembling.
Tears streaked her round cheeks, her lower lip wobbled, and when her wide, terrified eyes met yours, something inside you shattered.
She had hidden herself away.
From him.
From you.
A choked sob tore from your throat as you reached for her, arms wrapping around her small frame, pulling her against your chest. She melted into you instantly, her little hands fisting into your shirt, burying her face into your shoulder as soft, hiccupped cries wracked through her tiny body.
You rocked her gently, whispering her name like a prayer, your voice breaking as your lips pressed against the crown of her head.
"I'm sorry," you whispered.
Over and over, you murmured it into her hair, against her temple, into the delicate curve of her ear, as if sheer repetition could make it true.
"I'm so sorry, Haru. I'm so, so sorry."
And that was the day you swore—you would never, never fall back into Naoya’s grasp again.
ꨄ
“y/n?”
The sound of your name pulled you back.
The past dissolved like mist burned away by the sun, fading into the recesses of your mind. The dim, suffocating glow of your old apartment vanished, replaced by the cool, sterile overhead lights of Satoru’s office. The warmth of Haru’s small body against yours was gone, replaced by the unyielding leather of the chair beneath you.
You blink, the weight of memory still lingering in your chest.
Across the desk, Suguru was watching you carefully, his brows furrowed slightly, his pen poised between his fingers. Beside him, Satoru had straightened in his seat, his usual playful smirk nowhere in sight. His bright eyes—always so full of mischief—were sharp now. Piercing. Concerned.
Swallowing hard, you realized your hands had curled into fists in your lap. Slowly, deliberately, you forced yourself to breath—loosening your fingers, unclenching one joint at a time.
"Sorry," you murmur hoarsely. "I was just—" exhaling, you shake your head. "I was remembering."
Satoru doesn’t speak, but his gaze lingers, tracking every subtle shift in your expression, every flicker of emotion. He’s perceptive—too perceptive. Suguru, too, holds your stare, though something in his expression softens.
"I asked how he reacted," he prompts, gentler than before.
Wetting your lips, the words tangle in your throat.
"Not well," you finally admit.
Suguru’s pen barely moved, his focus entirely on you.
"Did he put his hands on you?"
As you hesitate, Satoru’s jaw clenches—hands curling into fists under the desk, knuckles going white.
"He didn’t—" you pause, pressing your fingers into your temples. "He threw things. Punched the wall. Screamed in my face until I couldn’t even understand what he was saying anymore."
Silence.
Satoru exhales sharply through his nose, his fingers twitching before he folds his arms tightly across his chest. His lips press into a thin line, tension radiating from every part of him as Suguru sets his pen down.
"That’s important," he says carefully. "If there were witnesses, records of damage, anything like that, it could help.”
"I… didn’t call the police," you murmur. "No reports, no records. Just… me."
Suguru nods, as if he had already expected that answer.
"And the child support case?” he continues, voice even. “Do you still have the documentation for that? Any filings, court dates, official correspondence?"
You stiffen, and something flickers across your face—guilt, unease, something you can’t quite name. Satoru’s eyes flick toward you, catching the slight shift in your posture.
"I…" your fingers curl against the fabric of your blouse. "I never went through with it."
Suguru tilts his head. "You never went through with it?"
You swallow; throat suddenly dry.
"I filed," you admit, barely above a whisper. "I started the process. I needed the financial support… he shut down all our joint credit cards, stopped paying the rent… kept delaying, making excuses, pushing back the court date. And then…"
Your gaze drifts toward Satoru, your expression softening despite yourself. A wry smile tugs at your lips.
"And then I married Satoru."
Satoru reaches out without hesitation, his hand finding yours, fingers curling around it with a reassuring squeeze. His thumb strokes the back of your hand—gentle, steady, grounding.
"And you no longer needed the financial support," he murmurs, piecing it together.
You nod. "Yes. So… I stopped responding to his messages."
“Can I see those messages?”
Suguru’s voice pulls your attention back to him—something unreadable flickering across his face.
"Oh… um, sure. Why?"
"Because the way you stopped responding could make a difference," he says evenly, holding out a hand. "We need to see how this will be interpreted in court."
A small knot tightens in your stomach, but you don’t hesitate for long. Pulling away from Satoru’s grasp, you reach into your bag, fingers unsteady as you unlock your phone. Scrolling through the old message thread, you hand it over.
Suguru takes the phone, his expression unreadable as he starts scrolling. The room feels eerily quiet. His brows furrow slightly, his thumb pausing at certain messages, and the longer he reads, the more apparent his concern becomes. His jaw tightens. The pen he had been twirling between his fingers stills completely.
Satoru notices. His easy, lazy demeanor shifts, shoulders straightening, his eyes flicking between Suguru’s face and the phone. Your fingers press into your lap, anxiety twisting in your gut.
“What’s up Suguru?” Satoru says. “I know that face.”
Suguru doesn’t respond immediately. His thumb halts on the screen, and when he finally speaks, his voice is careful.
“y/n… did you ever explicitly tell Naoya you got married?”
Your stomach knots. “Um… no…”
A pause.
“Did you tell him you no longer needed financial support?”
Dread coils around your ribs, squeezing. You already know where this is going.
“No…”
Suguru exhales slowly, setting the phone down on the table before meeting your gaze head-on. His expression is unreadable, but the weight behind it makes your pulse pick up.
“Did you ever tell him that both you and Haru moved in with Satoru?”
You hesitate, glancing at Satoru before answering.
“No… um, he… kept contacting me, but I never picked up his calls. I just… ignored him.”
Suguru leans back slightly, his fingers steepled together as he releases a slow breath through his nose. You can see him choosing his next words carefully, and somehow, his silence feels heavier than anything he could say.
Your pulse hammers against your ribs, unease crawling up your spine. "What?" Your voice comes out shakier than you’d like.
Suguru’s eyes flick between you and Satoru before he finally says it.
“That’s not going to look good on our behalf.”
Your stomach drops. “What do you mean?”
“It paints the picture that you up and left without informing him of Haru’s whereabouts. Legally, he had parental rights—even if he wasn’t actively involved. If the court sees this as you cutting off access to his child, it could be a problem.”
The words hit like a slap.
Nausea rises in your chest as the weight of it settles over you—heavy, suffocating. You had been so focused on escaping, on surviving, that you hadn’t thought of how it would look on paper. You hadn’t considered what it meant legally, hadn’t realized that in the court’s eyes, your silence might be seen as something calculated, something deliberate.
You had unknowingly made this harder.
You just wanted to be free. To disappear from him. To never hear his voice again, never flinch at the sound of his footsteps, never have to wonder which version of him you’d be facing that day.
"Hey.”
Satoru’s voice cuts through the fog in your mind, gentle but firm. You blink, grounding yourself as his warm palm finds yours beneath the table, fingers wrapping around your own.
"You're spiraling," he murmurs, grip reassuring, anchoring you. "Breathe, sweetheart."
Realizing only now how tight your chest has become, you suck in a shuddering breath. Across from you, Suguru watches silently, but he doesn’t interrupt—letting Satoru handle it.
"You didn’t do anything wrong," Satoru continues, voice low and steady. "You didn’t owe that bastard anything. And you did what you thought was best at the time."
His thumb brushes over your knuckles, a slow, comforting motion.
"You’re not the one who abandoned Haru," he murmurs, tone firm. "He did."
“Exactly,” Suguru chimes in, measured but sure. “And now we know what he’ll latch onto, how he’ll try to twist things in his favor. And we’ll be prepared for it.”
Satoru gives your hand one last squeeze before finally letting go, leaning back in his chair. He tilts his head at Suguru, lips curling into something sharp.
"Good thing we have a damn good lawyer then, huh?"
Suguru sighs, shaking his head, but there’s the faintest trace of a smirk at the corner of his lips.
"You mean the best lawyer. Keep up."
Satoru scoffs, stretching lazily as he folds his arms behind his head. "If you're the best, then why does my name bring in the bigger checks?"
"Because people like looking at you, not listening to you."
Satoru gasps dramatically, placing a hand over his chest. "Wow. That hurts, Suguru. That hurts."
"Good. Feel it.”
A breath escapes you—something close to a laugh. Small, but real. Satoru catches it immediately. His eyes flick to you, and for a brief moment, the teasing glint softens, just slightly.
Like he’s cataloging it. The way your shoulders have eased, the way a bit of color has returned to your face.
"See, sweetheart? He’s so mean to me," he whines, nudging your arm. "Did you hear that? Just, like, zero respect."
Rolling your eyes, your smile grows—the weight in your chest lifting, if only for a moment.
"You act like I haven’t been carrying you since we were kids," Suguru drawls, flipping a page in his folder.
Satoru straightens immediately. "Excuse me? That is blatant slander."
"Is it?" Suguru quirks an eyebrow. "Who was the one who got you through high school? Barely, might I add.”
"Hey now," Satoru objects, leaning forward. "I was a bright and capable student."
"Sure. When you weren’t slacking off and being a goddamn menace."
You shake your head, amused as their bickering continues—like muscle memory, like second nature. It’s effortless, this constant push and pull between them, a rhythm so ingrained it feels like breathing.
And for a brief moment, you let yourself sink into it, warmth curling in your chest. Like nothing has changed. Like you aren’t in the middle of preparing for a custody battle. Like there isn’t a pit of anxiety still gnawing at your ribs.
Satoru and Suguru make it easy.
Then your phone buzzes against the table where Suguru placed it, face down—a tiny vibration against the polished wood, so quiet it barely cuts through the noise of their conversation.
It’s nothing. Just a text. A notification.
Without much thought, you reach for it while the boys go at it—Satoru gesturing wildly, his voice dramatic, animated. Suguru flipping a page in his folder, unimpressed, already prepared to dismantle whatever ridiculous argument Satoru is making.
Unlocking the screen, your eyes flick to the message.
Naoya: We need to talk. When can I see you? Just… be good for me.
The words register slowly, their meaning sinking in like ink bleeding through paper.
The air turns thin—the office warping at the edges, colors leaching into something muted, distant. Your pulse spikes, hammering wildly in your chest, and your fingers slacken—the phone slipping from your grasp, clattering onto the table.
“Sweetheart?”
Satoru’s voice is muted, and you barely register the scrape of his chair against the floor because all you can see, all you can hear, are his words—echoing in your head.
Just be good for me.
The words crawl over your skin, wrapping tight around your throat. They coil around your ribs, squeezing, constricting, suffocating—
You don’t really want to do this, baby. Let’s just sit down and eat.
The edges of your vision blur, warping, swallowing color and sound. You’re not here. You’re there—the dim apartment, the sickly glow of streetlights bleeding through half-closed blinds, the remnants of shattered ceramic at your feet, a voice too soft, too calm—too dangerous.
Be good for me, okay?
Your body won’t move. Your ribs won’t expand.
“Baby, what is it?”
A different voice. Familiar. Safe.
As you blink, light and color slowly bleed back into your vision, and something warm presses against you—solid, steady. Satoru. His careful grip finds yours, anchoring you, pulling you back, back, back.
His other hand reaches for the phone, and his expression darkens the moment he sees the message—a muscle jumping in his jaw, his fingers clenching before he wordlessly hands the device to Suguru.
Then, he’s turning back to you.
"Hey, sweetheart…" his voice is soft, coaxing, and he cradles your face tenderly. "I need you to breathe for me."
Oh, are you not breathing?
The realization hits all at once. Your lungs are locked. Your breaths are too shallow, too fast, too panicked. The walls are still closing in, the weight still crushing your ribs. Your fingers clutch at Satoru’s sleeve, gripping the fabric like it’s the only thing keeping you tethered.
"You’re okay," pulling you in, his arms wrap around you completely. "He’s not here. He can’t touch you. I’ve got you."
The scent of him—clean linen, something crisp and warm—fills your senses. The thump-thump of his heartbeat echoes against your ear, a steady rhythm cutting through the chaos while his thumb brushes slow, deliberate circles against your back.
"Breathe with me."
You inhale, slow and shaky, then exhale.
You’re not there. You’re here.
Satoru feels the moment your body starts to ease. The moment your fingers loosen from their iron grip on his sleeve, the moment your breath finally evens out—but he doesn’t pull away, cradling you in his warmth.
Finally, you find your voice.
“I’m… okay,” you whisper, dragging your head up, meeting Satoru’s concerned gaze. His thumb brushes against your cheek—just once, fleeting, and his eyes search yours, not convinced.
A beat passes. Then, Suguru clears his throat.
"I’ll respond."
His voice is even, but there’s an edge beneath it. Cold. Measured. And you don’t protest. You can’t. Because the thought of speaking—of addressing him—sends another wave of nausea rolling through your gut.
Your body instinctively tenses again, and Satoru doesn’t let go. His fingers continue tracing slow, steady circles along your back as Suguru stares at the phone, jaw tightening just slightly before his fingers move over the screen.
The soft tap-tap-tap of his fingers against the glass is the only sound in the room. Then, a pause.
A slow, deep inhale drags through his nose, his thumb hovering over the screen for a brief second before he presses send. And the silence that follows feels heavy, expectant.
“He’s going to respond,” you murmur, barely above a whisper.
Suguru leans back slightly, watching the screen. Waiting.
“He will,” he confirms, voice unreadable. “But that doesn’t matter.” His eyes lift, meeting yours with something unshakable. “Because we’re meeting him tomorrow.”
The words settle like a weight in your chest.
You stiffen. “We are?”
“You don’t have to see him, sweetheart.”
Satoru’s voice is gentle but firm, his fingers tilting your chin up just enough to guide your gaze back to his. There’s something quietly resolute in the way he’s looking at you—something absolute.
“Me and Suguru will go,” his voice is unwavering, a promise wrapped in steel. “You don’t have to do a damn thing. Let us handle him.”
The finality in his tone settles over you like armor.
You inhale—slow, deep. The tension still lingers, an ache sitting heavy in your ribs, but it no longer feels crushing. It no longer feels insurmountable. Because you don’t have to do this alone.
You have them.
a/n. ahhh, i hope you guys liked this chapter. it was very, very tough for me to write. i can't tell you how much i despise naoya—fucking gaslighting asshole, lol. i hope this gave you a glimpse of what y/n actually lived through. this is the reason she has a lot of issues—the difficulty trusting, reluctance to open up. with naoya, y/n had no voice—she was powerless. but satoru brings out the spark in her, rather than diminishing her flame, satoru nurtures it.
i feel like i didn't even get to accomplish everything i wanted in this chapter 😅 but oh jeez, i couldn't do another 20k chapter. just know that there's still a lot i'm setting up for. i'm so excited for what's to come 🥹
also, y/n and satoru finally shared some intimacy, hehe. hope it was worth the wait for ya'll 🤭 remember, SLOW BURN.
thanks so much for reading, and as always, i would really love to hear your thoughts on this chapter! the support with this fic floors me, every single time. i appreciate each and every one of my readers—THANK YOUUU💕
-aly
→ onto the next chapter ꨄ
Suguru Geto is your bully, your boss, and now your...baby daddy?
pairings: baby daddy!Geto x f!reader x coworker!Nanami
content: MDNI, angst and fluff and smut, coworker AU, rivals-to-coparents, toxic relationship dynamics, bullying, Geto and reader HATE each other (for now), unplanned pregnancy, hidden baby trope (sorta), hatefucking, piv sex, oral (m! receiving), reader is incredibly petty, descriptions of pregnancy symptoms, more tags to be added
art creds: @/Bom61487782 on x for suguru + @/Neconi_o0 for nanami I believe !!
chapter index
plucked | branching out | broken twigs | picking petals | thorns | deadheading | ripping out the roots | yours, mine, his | in bloom | overgrown garden | new seeds | clipped
❤︎ sum. your ex-fiancé needs a favor from you — just one more, he swears! apparently, he’s got some weird “parasite” that for some reason is very attracted to your sweet, sweet scent..
wc. 9.2k
warnings. fem! reader, venom! toji, modern au, pre-established relationship, pining, some spoilers + movie references, reader's a doctor (allegedly), unprotected, venom's dialogue is in bold, venom's tendrils, long tongues, brief bj's, manhandling, getting pounded silly in venom’s suit, choking, size kinks, L bombs, cunnīlingus, twice the stamina, marathons, fīngering, riding toji ‘till he cries, venom's kinda unserious, dīck slipping, cęrvix mentions, spitting on it, bręeding, squīrting, tummy bulges.
an. i’m ovulating and rewatched all three venom movies hear me OUT-
“pussy.”
“venom, man- please.”
“what.”
furrowing your brows, you stared at toji, the man who you were originally supposed to marry just six months ago. in the flesh, he stands tall behind the door of your office with a sheepish expression. he looks tired, ruffled hair buried underneath a sideways baseball cap while wearing some dingy sweats. “are you talking to yourself?”
“eheh- well,” toji gruffs, darting lime eyes toward your teal scrubs. he’s missed you. to think if he hadn’t been stupid enough to snoop through your life foundation files to expose confidential information regarding their private business practices. his silly little mistake ended up getting you both fired, but fate loved playing in your face because you almost forgot that you were still toji’s doctor at your other job. clearing his scratchy throat, toji sighs. “i’m dyin’ here, doc. need a checkup.”
“she smells good.”
“yeah, she does smell good.”
“what?” you eyed toji, wondering just who the hell he was even talking to.
toji looks at you, scratching behind his neck. “ah- sorry,” and you notice how he’s a lot veinier than usual. toji did a quick scan around the spacious, empty doctor’s office before he slightly tilted his head down. “long story short, sugar, i got a … parasite.”
“PARASITE!?”
“parasite?” you repeated with a deadpan, grabbing your clipboard near your desk.
oh for the love of . .
you thought you’d never see toji again. letting off a sigh of your own, you pat the cerulean-blue hospital bed. “sit.”
hoarsely scoffing, toji makes his way toward the bed before flopping on it with a loud ‘oof.’ scratching his head, he turns toward you as he sees you writing something down—probably information regarding his chart. “so… how ya been?”
“toji, let’s just make sure you’re alright.”
“fine, fine,” he grumbles, getting smacked face first with the thick tension swarming the air that could be cut with a knife.
there was obvious tension between the two of you, and toji was still head over heels in love with you. in fact—he’s never stopped, and he regrets every day choosing his career over his relationship.
if he could start over, hell - he would.
the two of you had plans and everything after getting married. settle down, maybe move out of san francisco, maybe even live near the countryside. you both even had a brief small talk about children too, but seeing you again just reminded him of how much he screwed up.
“what’s . . the problem, exactly? you said you have a what- parasite?”
your sweet tone snaps him out of his thoughts and his droopy, grassy eyes flick down to meet your gaze. “oh- uh, yeah. you’re the only person i thought of comin’ to. last doctor, i went to called me crazy and uh … called a swat team…. ha.”
“ooookay…” you curl a brow inward, hoping the last part was just another one of his unfunny jokes. “and does this ‘parasite’ make you talk to yourself or is that just toji being toji?”
“she’s sassy.”
toji rolls his eyes, disregarding venom’s instigating comments in his head before shrugging. “sometimes. he’s annoying.”
“he?”
“my uh- parasite. he hates being called ‘it.’ goes by venom ‘n everything,” toji explains, his hands still buried deep into the pockets of his cottony sweats. as you glance up to get a good look at him, he’s sweating bullets—all from the sides of his forehead too. “oh, ‘m fine. ‘s just a bit hot in here.”
“the a/c’s on.”
“oh..” toji murmurs, slouching a bit on the bed. to say he’s feeling hot is an understatement. it’s like the more he stared at you, the more he started to feel the unsteady beats of his heart pick up.
ba-dump after ba-dump after ba-dump! and he could even start to hear each pulse through his ears, traveling through his veins.
toji clenches his tense jaw as he tries to listen to you. you’re rambling a bunch of medical terminology about checking his vitals and blood pressure and he’s replying with uninterested head nods.
oh fuck.
venom’s getting excited.
it’s probably been about five months since the little ‘incident’ occurred where he ended up getting venom.
long story short—toji was snooping around the headquarters of the life foundation where he found actual test subjects. not animals, not insects but people. live, living, and breathing people, and before he could even think of pulling out his phone to record the things he saw - bam!
one of the test subjects—a girl, sneaks up from behind and attacks toji.
little did he know that a ‘parasite’ that was once inside her ended up slipping inside of him. the parasite is known as ‘venom.’ to sum it all up toji was a perfect match, the perfect host.
“toji, are you even listening to me?”
“yeah, toji. our wife’s talking to us.”
“shut up.” he grumbles, shaking his head.
“excuse me?”
“not you- ah, fuck,” toji takes off his ball cap, running a hand through his greasy darkened strands.
he’s been so kept in his thoughts that he didn’t feel you checking his vitals and blood pressure which was oddly higher than a usual human.
toji sits on the sheet-covered bed, the blood pressure cuff still wrapped ‘round his beefy bicep before he sighs deeply again. “i don’t.. wanna waste yer time. i doubt you’ll find what’s wrong, er- medically. it’s … hah- hard to explain.”
as you switched the sphygmomanometer off, you concluded with toji’s chart for now before thinking for a moment. “well, if it’s internal and is causing you to behave strangely, maybe an MRI will help-”
“NO.”
toji grows sheepish again. “heh- no, no.. MRI.”
“and why not?”
“sound… uh- sound hurts him. him and me.”
dropping your shoulders with impatience, you tap your foot with a grumble. “look, toji, i’m really trying here but i’m not sure how else i can help you. i don’t even know what this ‘parasite’ thing even is.”
“it’s.. better if i show ya.”
right at his words, your brows raised. show you?
at that moment—question marks were popping up all through your brain, and you were the epitome of confusion. toji sighed, sitting up straight before glancing down at you. “don’t get scared, alright? i won’t hurt’cha, promise.”
“um, okay..” you murmur, crossing your arms as your wrist bristles against your doctor identification badge. the anticipation’s nearly killing you, and you remain quiet as you try to study toji’s next move.
“alright-” toji inhales deeply, and right before your very eyes - he’s changing forms.
he’s still wearing sweats, but within seconds, his body’s starting to get covered with black. it looks like some sort of dark villain suit. he’s waaaay bigger now, and his face’s just halfway covered. as you raise your head, you’re met with the face. the slit, blinking eyes. there’s large, curving eyes that longly curl further up near the back of his head and the teeth-
half of toji’s mouth was now replaced with probably dozens of sharp, honed teeth and an obnoxiously long tongue sticking out of the side of his mouth.
what ….
the ….
fuck.
“pretty little girl.”
the voice sounded far different than toji’s. it’s more pitchy and low, it's screaming with smoky bass and it nearly makes you shudder. toji - or whoever that was, did a quick walk around you and you’re silently gulping.
it’s venom now, and the more he’s in your presence, the more he’s getting a louder smell of your signature sweet scent.
so this is the girl toji’s been whining about non-stop. interesting.
“i- um.. take it you’re the parasite?”
you heard an annoyed growl leave from his mouth before he replies, cocking its head.
“watch it, now. it’s venom, sweet thing.”
“venom, poison, toxin- whatever.” you rolled your eyes, your slight fear subsiding. toji told venom how you were sassy but you, you were intriguing. you didn’t seem the least bit scared and he liked that.
as you took in his massive appearance though, he was just so big, towering over toji entirely even with his head tilted down. venom’s very burly, and you could just see him drooling from his lips from your peripherals. in a tiny frail voice, you murmured. “where’s toji? is he-”
“still here, unfortunately. he’s my shitty host-”
right on cue, they swap back and toji’s back in his body. he rubs behind his neck, looking down at your cute appalled expression. “heh- see?”
“toji, what the hell did i just see.”
“i don’t know- but look, he’s a part of me now and he’s hell-bent on makin’ my life a livin’ hell for as long as i’m alive,” toji let off an exhale. “i didn’t . . just come here for a checkup though.”
your eyes meet his and toji’s demeanor turns more serious now - he’s starting to sweat again, and raven bangs that slit down his forehead nearly shield his eyes. “i- i missed you, sugar. seriously.”
“toji-”
“no, listen,” he grumbles, slowly closing the awkward distance between the two of you. the room grew dead quiet, and the only sounds that could be heard were from the outside of the hospital.
endless chatter and machines along with occasional beeps from the staticky hospital’s intercom. intently, you stare deep into his eyes and his hand softly goes on your cheek. toji’s patiently waiting - waiting for the moment for you to push his hand away, but you don’t.
instead, your body’s first response was to lean into his touch and you could see his eyes slowly widening as he continued to caress your cheek. he didn’t expect that.
“god, i- i’m so… horny-”
…..
“nice one. no wonder why you struggle to get laid.”
you blink thrice, staring at toji and oh- he’s starting to sweat even more. his eye seems to be twitching from venom’s insult and you’re wondering what’s going on through his brain - or who.
he’s not sitting on the bed anymore, he’s standing now, and again, toji towers over you completely.
if you squinted just enough, you’d see the dark bags indenting underneath his eyes. “you look .. really pretty today.”
“i’m wearing scrubs, toji.”
“idiot.”
toji grumbles, trying to disregard venom’s snarky side comments. “i know- i know, i just-” he pauses, his eyes trailing up and down your body. “wait- i think i know how you can help with my parasite.”
“how?”
“heh- do you uh- mind if we go back to your place? ‘m kinda starved-”
♡ ♡ ♡
“o- oh my.. god!” you’d squeal, yet another pretty primal ripping its way out of your throat. one minute, you’re having a heart-to-heart with your ex-fiancé and the next, his tongue’s swirlin’ left and right in between the cracks and crevices of your open thighs. you’d be lying through your teeth if you didn’t miss his tongue.
but fuck it.
you’re whimpering, swollen-glossed lips trembling as you’re hunched over your damn sofa. you’re bent over the arm of the couch as toji’s positioned behind you, using one hand to roughly grip the right cheek of your ass.
like always - he’s just nasty, sliding his tongue in and out of your syrupy cunt, savoring the candy-sweet taste. toji’s all in there—puckering his plump glossy lips as your hips refused to stay still on his tongue.
“hngh- sweeter than ever for me, pretty hah- mama,” toji groans, feeling you writhe again at the shuddering response your body gives him.
leisurely, his scarred lips tickle their way against the outer part of your pussy and you’re already fighting back fat tears. tears of straight pleasure, and he could hear those sweet ‘lil sobs getting caught in the back of your throat every time.
“fuck- dreamt ‘bout tastin’ you again for so long,” and as you’re continuing to fill the room with your repeated, wailing whimpers, toji brings a sticky, wet kiss to your labia that’s just constantly twitching. “mhm, i missed you too, wet girl.”
“ngh- toji,” a soft, gasping moan snatches away from your lungs as your thighs gradually grow shaky. you’re unstable—struggling desperately to cling onto the armrest of the sofa. toji’s tongue was just brutal - its pace was simply relentless, barely giving you any time to get out a single breath.
“fuck- fuuuuck,” and your chest dips inward, hearing that familiar slosh sound sob from between your legs. your tummy nearly does flips, cartwheels, and somersaults, feeling that thick, big stretch of one of toji’s fingers trying to insert its way inside you.
immediately, you’re clamping around him, presenting his stocky fat middle finger with your dripping, slick warmth. you heard a cooing, husky ‘ooooh’ rumble away from toji’s throat as he stared in awe.
“your fingers are sooo- fuck-” you’re cut off by his tongue that’s wetly slurping against your pussy. it’s so loud too, a carnal sound you’d probably never get used to.
toji’s a sloppy man - proud ‘n entirely unashamed, especially when it came to you.
his long, ravened lashes were closed the entire time whilst he was trying to barrel thick fingers inside of your drooling core. you’re just so wet, dampening his fingers within each overwhelming inch that sinks inside your pussy. “baby-” he breathily rasps, hearing the hurried huffs depart from your throat once he starts scissoring his digits inside of you. his fingertips were even bigger, and your toes were just pathetically curling up.
“toji, i want a taste too.”
toji grumbles, nearly forgetting about venom’s presence. already - you had a good portion of his chin dripping with your essence. as toji’s starting to create a decent, sloppy thrusting pace of his fingers, he spits on your clit.
“don’t be greedy. besides my tongue’s longer.”
“fine.” toji rolls his eyes, glancing at the glittery glob of spit that’s straightly cascading down the slit of your cunt.
venom did have a point though -
he could stretch it out to be several feet long. toji’s fingers continued to loudly thrust in and out of your sobbing, wet cunt before he nibbles against your nub. “mmch- sugar, can i try somethin’ with my tongue?”
“o.. okaay-” your voice cutely cracks, and you’re already starting to feel the irregular beats of your heart pick up at a much more frantic speed.
“hah- i’ll have ‘ta take my fingers out for it. might stretch you a bit,” and right as he says that you hear the drenched ‘pop’ sound splash away from between your trembly legs.
you’re damn near hysterical - temporarily pouting once you’re clenching around nothing but air once he pulls his fingers out.
down to his rounded, pointy knuckles — both fat fingers were glossed from top to bottom with streams of your gluey slick.
you heard a ‘whoosh’ from behind you, and your eyes slightly bulged once you felt a bit of drool splatter onto your back. you’re completely bare, and the only thing you currently had on was panties that toji lazily shoved to the side with his teeth earlier.
“bend.”
it’s venom’s voice this time, and the bass gruffly screaming in his tone had you already arching up. you whined, still feeling him shamelessly drooling on your bare backside.
you could hear him snarling quietly, hearing the slopping sound of his tongue rolling straight out of his hanging maw. curled, white eyes stare at your pretty pussy just on display, and venom’s tongue stretched out even farther.
“eyes… lungs… pancreas…” his venomous, deep voice bellows after each word that leaves his dropping, wet lips. the chiseled, sharp teeth that decorated the inside of venom’s mouth were just so shiny.
you felt yourself throbbing at every second he spent widely staring at your body, admiring your nude physique.
large, blinking eyes finally flicker down between your thighs and you moan once he hungrily licks his long tongue across his salivating lips. once he teasingly brings the tip of his tongue to lick between the wet crevice of your leg, you whimpered as he finished his sentence. “—pussy.”
“o- oh.. my goood-” you’d croak, eyes instantly rolling back once the slimy tip of his tongue slaps its way against your hole.
slooowly, it slithers its way down until it reaches your opening. it was so long, the tip already reaching near your navel within half a second. it’s just huuuge, longer than toji’s tongue by a mile. he’s just as ruthless too, dipping his way inside of your inviting cunt without muttering a single word.
you’re holding onto the edge of the couch for dear life, gnawing at the inside of your cheek as his tongue sloppily flops its way in and out of your throbbing pussy. venom’s a tease too, and every few seconds he’d purposely stretch the tip of his tongue even longer just to hear those pretty cries of yours pitch higher.
“uuugh.. s- so long, fuck-” you’d whine, gasping once you felt his flicking tongue occasionally slap against the sprawled arc of your thighs. unapologetically, venom creates a slimy, wet trail and he’s just straight-up licking you everywhere.
he’s not only licking your pussy, he’s gliding his tongue down your legs, around your legs, and of course -
he tends attention to his new favorite spot, your hole.
every time he’d lave the reddened, curly tip of his tongue at that particular spot - you’d let off the prettiest squeal. your eyes nearly popped out of their poor sockets as you’re left a stammering, babbling mess. messily, he swirls his extended tongue around your puckering hole before slithering it back down between the puffed folds of your pussy.
“ ‘m not.. hah- not gonna last, toji-”
venom scoffs, but he could feel toji trying to take over. as you remained awkwardly hunched over the fluffy armrest of your sofa, you just couldn’t get over how long venom’s tongue was.
just thinking about how many feet it was had you fluttering, and not just the kind of fluttering that occurs inside your stomach.
it’s wet, dripping everywhere down your legs as it continues to glissade up, down, ‘n around. you were impatiently spasming on his tongue the entire time as you were still arched over, chasing each incoming breath until your release decided to present itself.
venom’s tongue was widely thick too, and it just couldn’t help but roll its way against the bare left cheek of your ass. you’re practically gasping for air at this point, on the verge of collapsing from the length of his tongue before he delves it in wholly.
“fuck- fuuuuck-” you’d squeak, drool moistly seeping from each corner of your lips.
steamy, hot breath tickles against your thigh as his tongue continued to drag its way through your sloppy cunt. every smacking slosh that you heard from between your yelping legs only grew louder, and you’re just gnawing on the bars of your fuckin’ enclosure.
you’re starting to cutely crawl forward, at least you’re trying to, but you gasp—feeling one of venom’s long black tendrils curl its way around your torso.
“stay, girl.”
you’re moaning, eyes bulging wider once the tip of his tongue occasionally reaches near your pulsating g-spot. he’s so sloppy with it too, purposely diving his tongue at that same spot to make you cross-eyed.
your sweet melodic ‘ooooh’ ‘s only pitched higher, and as his tongue continued to thrust in and out of your throbbing cunt, you felt his tendril delicately caressing down your skin. “ ‘m gonna cummm-” you’d whine out, feeling the pathetic surrendering quake of your legs.
his tongue was just sooo vast ‘n wide - thickly stretching inside of your cunt before flicking the tip of his flat tongue all against your drenched, wet thighs.
within a blink of an eye, you hear a ‘swoof’ sound and toji ends up switching back to his original form. your kaleidoscope-like vision had you seeing bleary white splotches of pleasure. as each lively vein and axon located in your body gets harshly interrupted with a euphoric wave of elation, your high’s finally making its longly awaited appearance.
venom’s tongue which is now toji’s tongue shrinks a bit, and the entire time—you feel it all inside of you. pulse after pulse after pulse . .
the scar that slit down the right side of his lip smeared against your pussy as he takes one big sluuuuurp.
toji groans, grabbing ahold of your rickety thighs before snickering lowly. “c’mon, pretty girl. give it t ‘me. hah- ‘m so thirsty,” he murmurs against your folds, his lips wetly gluing together with the help of your slick cascading down his stubbled chin.
you’re just shaking - your jaw dropped with your toes cutely curled together. toji softly slides another finger inside you and this time, it's his index finger.
your lips spread wide - parting into a cute, surprised ‘o’ once you feel a brief cold band of what feels like a ring. it’s his engagement ring, and after all this time he still wore it.
“f- fuck, tojiiiii-” you’d sob out, furrowed brows contorting as he’s trying to slide in each thick inch of his digit.
you’re drooling, and not just from your mouth.
“never .. hngh- stopped lovin’ you, sweetheart,” toji grumbles, a smoky groan ripping out of his throat once he feels his dick twitching in his sweats.
toji’s hard too, and you could even hear him let off a soft raspy whine once he started to roll his hips against the cushioned couch. “fuuuck- gonna make me cum too, ugh-”
the wet silver band of his engagement ring tickles against the inside of your core, and as he repeatedly pistons his thick digit in and out of your pussy, he kept flicking his tongue at the same time.
you’re shivering, feeling your hips dramatically stutter before the coil buried deep in your fluttering tummy finally snaps.
“fu- fuck!” you’d squall out a pretty near battle cry, purring off little shaky ‘ah’ ‘s once you hear his final, repeating slurps.
toji’s free hand already snuck underneath his sweats, and he was angrily pumping his veiny cock that hid underneath his boxers.
the white stripes of his underwear had ‘lethal protector’ decorated around the upper strip of his boxers in bold white and purple — (venom’s idea of course)
as toji’s kiss-stung lips practically glued against your pulsating clit, he drinks all of your slick juices. the top row of his teeth playfully snags against your nub as his long, dark lashes flutter shut.
but as you’re creaming on his tongue, toji grunts loudly.
his bare shaft that’s hugged around his palm ends up releasing too from the tip, and he grumbles, feeling the inside of his stomach frantically tighten.
toji ends up cumming merely nanoseconds after you, and white splotches end up spraying over his stomach and on the burgundy cushion below you both.
“hah- fuck,” toji growls through honed, gritted teeth. he’s drenched with sweat, and he’s letting off guttural moans against your sweet cunt as his animalistic hips humped against the sofa. “made a fuckin’ mess outta me, pretty girl. just like . . ya always do-”
as you’re still getting over your own teeth-shatter release, you end up sitting up. toji brings his slick-covered ring finger towards his scarred lips, giving it a teasing ‘lil suck before humming in content. “my wife’s always had the sweetest taste.”
“ex-fiancée.” you corrected him, still feeling your thighs quake.
“oh, boo. same thing, sweetheart,” toji pants, and he saw how your eyes immediately dropped further down.
it starts near his chest. toji’s chest was puffed out, and fuck was he buff. his arms were oh-so swole, and your gaze was entirely stuck to his body as he started to take off his sweater.
after that - came his tank top.
it’s dingy, a dirty color of white and you could even see a few curly black strands of chest hair poke near the center part.
as you were openly gawking - you didn’t even realize you were crawling closer and closer toward him..
this probably wasn’t a good idea.
you’d probably regret this tomorrow.
but, again - fuck it.
one more last time with your ex-fiance couldn’t hurt that bad, right . . ?
“heh- come closer,” toji sits manspread, sprawling his beefy vein-covered arms over the edge of your sofa. “i don’t bite but venom might.”
“shut up-” you mumbled, and toji inhaled a sharp breath at the familiar feeling of your touch.
as always - you’re just so gentle, tenderly tender with one of your palms wrapping over his sensitive erect length. it’s like he grew the last time you saw him, and from all the tannish-pink sides, it was overwhelmed with veins.
prodding, lightning-shaped veins.
toji’s rounded tip was a pretty color of pink with splotches of glittery white where a few remnants of cum remained.
grunting—toji’s eyes briefly flap shut and you could see the core muscles in his stomach tightly flexing. a single vein throbs down the left side of his shaft as he feels your tongue flick against his frenulum.
speaking of - his poor, rosy-colored cockhead’s just tearing with glossy globules of pre-cum. you swirl your tongue around, hearing each low growling ‘o- oh fuck,’ leave from toji’s scarred lips.
if it was anything he missed more than you, it was your mouth. you always knew how to wrap your lips around his cock. ardently, toji bites his lip before he sees you reaching between your legs.
humming, he raises a brow as your hot throat starts to finally lower itself against his weighty cock. “mngh- poor baby. need a hand?”
“ ‘m fine,” you grumbled through full lips, almost remembering just how big toji’s dick really was.
seconds later and your lips were feeling tender just from the subtle gaping stretching it created. you’re letting off a symphony of muffled moans left and right as you’re trying to get his mushroomy tip to hit the roof of your mouth. as toji ogles at your bobbling head, he playfully pinches your nose.
“fuck- thaaat’s it, breathe.” he released the grip from your nostrils, hearing a faint noise of a gag.
he was just so thick, and your fingers weren’t helping your impatient fervor at all. you weren’t just throbbing anymore from between your legs you were twitching too.
a lustrous strand of saliva dribbles from the corner of your lips as you moan again - pretty, bleary eyes glancing back up at toji before you huff. with a sloppy, wet ‘pop!’ noise, your drooling lips left his veiny cock.
“hm?” toji lets out a smoky exhale, a wide palm still softly placed on top of your head. he sees the needy little pout gradually spreading against your face before he smears his fat tip against your lips. “impatient, wifey?”
“toji-” you grumbled, not even caring anymore. your body knew all too well what it wanted. “just fuck me.”
you wanted him - maybe even needed him.
toji knew what you wanted too, and god- you just wanted to wipe the smirk right off his face.
it’s like he could read you like a book. after saying just his name though—you let off another gasp once he suddenly lifts you.
“hah- well then. upsie’ fuckin daisey, girl. i gotcha.”
strenuous, hefty arms carry you as he’s stomping down your hallway. emerald-green eyes occasionally leer at the few hung paintings and wall decorations that are displayed on your wall.
of course, toji knew where your bedroom was because that’s exactly where he was taking you.
never before had your jaw dropped wider.
once toji’s aligning his blushing, plump tip against your already sobbing pussy you knew it was game over. toji had you in one of his favorite positions - prone bone.
almost like before, your face was down with your pretty, wriggling ass raised. a long, rectangular mirror was propped up in front of you and toji was just silently drinking in every lewd expression that contorted against your face.
his sweats - his boxers, everything seemed to disappear and all he wore was that same black suit with a carved ‘spider’ looking symbol on his chest.
“mhm- look at how wet she is for me, fuck-” toji grumbles, carnally admiring how your clit was just fluttering with a jumble of aroused pulses.
“you mean us.”
“us, right.” toji rolls his eyes at venom’s remark, forgetting how you couldn’t hear him at all.
you were just drenched, and as he ran a swollen thumb down your slivering slit, he hummed.
if he squinted just enough, your pussy would’ve easily resembled a flower - so so pretty.
toji groans, and you hear a bit of a faint whoosh sound.
right before your eyes as you’re arched over, you watched how he was now wearing all black. like from before — it was the suit, the suit whenever he transformed into venom but toji was still there.
ruffled, black strands nearly blocked both of his eyes before he damply smacks his mushroomy tip against your weeping cunt.
“ngh- toji, don’t tease me-”
“patience, sweetheart-” he grumbles through gritted teeth, and your lips part into an even wider ‘o’ once he’s sliding the head of his cock back and forth against your puffed folds.
your thighs were eagerly trembling - direly waiting for him to just go inside.
toji’s cock was so ridiculously fat - each slap against your pussy with just his tip alone had you dizzy. the minuscule, sizzling buds in your mouth made the entirety of your tongue water as you were just babbling those same whimpers.
“dunno who’s louder.” he licks his lips, still tasting remnants of your cloyingly sweet juices on his tongue. as he’s still toying with you, you moaned once you heard that familiar welcoming squeeelch.
toji’s starting to ease his way inside - already creating a huge, gaping stretch with just his tip alone.
the sweet ‘o- oh shit’ that pours from your syrupy lips was mere music to his ears. tenderly, a hand wraps around your throat from behind, making you look at yourself through the mirror.
his shadow alone, you saw it - venom’s eerily presence, his silhouette shadowing behind toji, and he was even bigger. you gulped, feeling your tummy take a few resists and turns as he’s still trying to make his way inside.
“make her arch more.”
toji brings a hand toward your back, gently pressing down to make you sit upright. he’s just so big, and your brows were already compressing and curling all from his thick size.
he was barely even a few inches in and yet it felt like he was stuffing you to the brim. unsteady, wobbly arms remained pierced into the cushioned mattress as you could just feel toji’s cunning grin from behind you.
“fuck- so fuckin’ big, tojiii-”
“nice ‘n big just for you, wifey,” he purrs, and you’re whimpering once he rubs the frigid band of his wedding ring against your pussy again. the sloshes started to grow more wet after each barreling stretch, and you’re just gasping for air at this point. “c’mon big girl, let's make it fit like old times. gimme that pretty biiiig stretch- fuck.”
toji’s halfway in when he groans, feeling your heart-shaped insides instinctively clench around him. it’s almost cute, and he’s leaning against your ass to where his weight’s just hovering on top of you. the same hand that was holding onto your throat softens its grip, and he gives you a teasing kiss on the side of your mouth.
as your neck raised a little, you tried to wiggle your hips. fuck, you tried something, anything so he could just move.
toji lowly chortles at your cute agitation before gifting the right cheek of your ass with a rude spank.
“ohhh, what’s all this? want me to move, yeah?”
“pleaseplease-”
your words were a soft-spoken mumble, and toji’s just about all the way in now. after he’s bottomed out, his cock stiffens inside of you as you tried to writhe against his hips.
your dripping cunt was still as loud as ever, squelching with numerous pretty sloshing sounds. kissing near the back of your neck, toji whispers hoarsely, “heh- shame, y’er pussy’s speakin’ up for you, pretty mama. but i need ‘ta hear you,” and you moaned, eyes nearly rolling back at the sheer warmth of toji’s chiseled frame laid flat against your flesh. “please what?”
“f- fuuuck me, toji. please- just fuck me.”
within every swallowing inch—you felt toji’s thick, heavy cock trying to squeeze itself in. you’re whimpering, staring ahead with bleary, lust-like eyes as he’s taking you from behind.
he’s so obnoxiously big, but from the inside, he was even bigger.
his sharpened pelvis presents one thrust to you - just a single, vigorous thrust and you feel like you are gonna break.
fall over like you were just some fragile, porcelain doll on the verge of shattering into smithereens. all because of his damn hips. “ugh-” toji grumbles, a small hiss leaving his lips at the sticky contact your sharply slapping ass makes against his lower half.
“i wanna taste her more.”
“knock y’erself out, pal.” toji huffs at another one of venom’s whines, sucking his teeth at how your insides just clamped around him.
your half-open eyes were just wandering everywhere with white flickering through your sockets as your mouth remained agape. the crown of his cock reaches a deep, deep, deep area, and the thing that made you whine was feeling venom’s long tongue.
again.
it’s slick ‘n sticky, slithering out of his dropped jaw as the wet tip licks down the path of your arched spine. he feels you shiver, and toji groans as he’s still ruthlessly pounding you into the creeping mattress. your mind still couldn’t wrap around how abnormally loooong venom’s tongue was, it was so long that he could curl it around your waist if he wanted.
“good .. girl.”
you couldn’t hear him—but you felt his presence, his eerie presence behind you as toji’s heavy weight leans riiiight up against your ass.
your slick was dripping down his cock as he was sloppily sliding his way in and out, each papping sound of thighs causing your ears to ring like bells. fuzzed cotton stuffs your ears as you’re even starting to drool yourself, clawing at the sheets as toji’s fucking you senseless.
“hah- such a pretty girl, that’s it- fuck-” he groans, biting his tongue once he’s met with the sticky sensation of your cunt noisily slapping back against his sharpened pelvis.
hit after hit after hit - and you could just about taste every beat of your heart. his hips were mean, just slamming into you after each filth of a millisecond.
delicately - toji’s thumb caresses the middle part of your throat before he makes you meet his dirty gaze in the mirror. “look,” he huskily purrs, slowing his thrusts down purposely to match your delayed, drawn-out pants.
you shuddered underneath him—moaning once you felt the tip of venom’s tongue snake its way around your trembling thighs. though bleary, droopy eyes and a tongue fully lolled out of your spit-glittery lips, you glanced at yourself in the mirror.
the image of yourself being rammed from behind by toji in his jet-black ‘venom’ whatever you'd call it suit would now constantly be etched in your brain.
as toji’s behind you, his other hand brings your waist up for a better angle. you whined, feeling a bit of his chest hair softly tickle against your spine as he grinds against your ass. he’s thick inside, molding your clammy insides after every primal, eye-rolling thrust.
“there she is, heyy sweetheart,” and his voice drops. it’s a low, guttural low with the right amount of breath that makes you shamefully throb. leaning in, toji playfully licks the side of your cheek before whispering airily. “what happened to all that attitude earlier, hm?”
“ngh, fuck you-” you moaned, gasping once you felt venom’s tendril crawl its way between your legs. it’s so slimy, creating glossy trails of wetness against your already wet thighs before it wraps around one of your legs.
“no, fuck you.” toji grumbles, creating an invisible trail of kisses down your neck.
“make me c- cum then.” you tried to talk back but you’re instantly silenced by the feeling of toji’s heavy, fat cock dipping near your g-spot.
the ridges of his cock that’s got more of a lean curve were enough to have you collapse right there. he’s hitting you good from the inside, massaging through your clingy walls as the two of you both grunt in carnal unison. “oh! fuuuck- fuck, right there, hngh-”
toji brings a hand over your mouth—a palm that muffles your reoccurring whines ‘n whimpers before he hits that same spot again..
he treats your cute ‘lil g-spot like a target, his accuracy is precise every single time. your legs quavered as he felt you twitching - so so close that your orgasm was just like the edge of your strawberry-colored tongue.
“yeah, right - fuuuckin’, there?” and even toji’s voice was starting to tremble.
he’s just about there too - the more he’s whacking his achingly, swollen tip against your tender spot the more he’s feeling his base start to grow more and more full.
you’re whimpering, the syrupy taste of your saliva pouring past the cracks of your lips whilst gluing against his palm. venom’s ravened tendrils remained curled around your thighs too, a tight enough grip to where the hold wouldn't loosen so easily.
“there, toji- pleaaaase,” you’re damn near begging now, sweet pretty pleads of mercy sliding from your lips as the bed groans in the background. he’s deep, massaging your walls as your pussy relaxed squelch after sobbing squelch.
toji’s tip was a blushing, hot red - and each time he pistons his hips, he delves his way even further against your pretty g-spot.
stringently, it prods prods prods until it just can’t anymore and you’re left with your jaw goofily hung open, agape and all as you’re staring at the cross-eyed expression that’s mirrored right in front of you.
your reflection was practically mocking you it seemed, and once you came on his cock again, you let out the most harmonic squeal.
“mhn- there we go, sugar. sloooow, hah- nice ‘n slow, fuck-” his voice pitches hoarsely as he’s gripping both of your swerving hips. as your back’s still laid flat against the plump sheets of your mattress—toji flops right against you.
he’s just close - so so close that you felt the smooth, latex-like material of his suit grind against your skin.
his abs - so naturally sharped and carved, every single row of his chiseled pecs rubbed against your sweat-glossed back and you’re just whimpering out those same pretty babbles for more more more..
with a black quirked brow, toji grunts in your ear whilst venom’s tendrils mindlessly wrap around your waist.
tenderly, his scarred, callused lift your hips just a bit more to get a deeper angle - and fuck, that’s when toji’s just about at his inevitable peak too.
“hngh- cum . . cum insiiide-” you whined, sheeny pouty lips of yours curving into a disappointed frown once you hear and feel the wet, sloppy pop. heavy, ragged breaths collided down your spine as you felt toji’s rough chest lay flat against your back.
his shaft slipped out of you, and you couldn’t help the small ‘lil moan that pried its way from your raw chords. you’re clenching around nothing now, and you even tried to sneak a hand down between your legs.
with a soft whack - you pull your hand back, feeling the brief millisecond feeling of venom’s tendril giving your impatient hand a tiny spank.
“silly little woman.”
“our wife’s always been impatient,” toji snickers lowly, wrapping his palm around his veiny, thick cock. he takes two deep breaths before plap after plap, and he’s just smacking his mushroomy tip against your slobbering cunt.
again.
“toji, tojiiiii-” you’d moan at the occasional tender stings from each playful hit. his tip’s so perfectly round ‘n plump, just gifting your pretty pussy with various hits. “breed me, fuuuck- don’t miss, pleaseplease-”
in his head, he’s counting each sloppy slap of his creamy tip tapping against your folds. he could just hear the sheer neediness in your voice, and that’s when toji starts to align himself again.
you’re throbbing ridiculously - muttering out faint, inaudible whimpers of ‘please’ and ‘fuck’ ‘s as he’s sliding his ruby-red crownhead up and down the drooling slope of your pussy.
“mhm, needy ‘lil thing. can’t go a second without throbbing,” toji groans, watching as your right thigh starts to twitch. as his ripped abdomen presses further into yours, he brings a wet kiss toward your left shoulder blade. “ ‘s that what you really want, sweetheart? for me to finish ins- oh, fuck.”
with a sharp, three-second hiss - toji feels his hips shudder. it’s a warning, a warning that he was about to erupt and fuck, you felt every prominent vein on his ramming cock pulse through your core.
vehemently, his rhythm turns from sprightly to sloppy within seconds and he’s raising your leg slightly. “ ‘m cumming, sugar. better.. hah- pussy better swallow it all like a good girl, ugh-”
with your squished chin resting on top of your arm, you stared at the lewd reflected image of yourself and toji through the mirror that hung across the two of you.
like a madman - he’s drilling into your very being with venom’s dark silhouette hovering over you both.
he’s reaching such deep, tender areas and you’re whimpering after each slapping thrust.
“toji- uuuh- toji, mgh-” you’d whimper, his hits against your ass with his pelvis being so vicious that you could almost taste it.
it’s so powerful - each direct hit that he flawlessly slams into with his cock has your cute, dilated pupils spiraling into permanent cartoony circles. with the help of venom, toji ends up stretching his dick just a few more inches inside of you, and your mouth drops.
his tip swirls its way around your gripping pussy before it’s finally coming to its risqué end.
you’re laid flat on your mattress as nothing but a tiny, inaudible gasp-like ‘fuck’ drags its way from your lips. toji’s cock that stretch stretch stretched just a little bit more ended up gifting the lower part of your tummy with a protruding bump.
he finishes in the rawest, lecherous manner, flooding every corner ‘n crevice of your gripping walls with syrupy, white cum. your thighs that glued together perfectly were greeted with a few welcoming dewdrops of toji’s slick mess. rough, callused fingertips ran ahold of your waist and you could feel him writhing behind you.
hooded, olive eyes zero down your body, and the natural sheet of sweat that decorated a path down your arched back.
god.
“heh- that’s my gi-”
“we aren’t finished,” you uttered, grabbing toji’s bulky shoulders and lightly shoving him on his back. with a surprised yet amused ‘uuf’ he lands as his half-opened eyes stare at the dripping, creamy mess streaming from between your legs. “lie back.”
venom, being toji’s conscious once more, snickers at your audacity as he watches the scene of you straddling his host.
“tojo buddy, if you won’t re-marry her, i will.”
“dude, i told you, it’s toji, and shut the hell u- fuuuck.”
♡ ♡ ♡
position after position after position and you gave toji an absolute run for his money. he didn’t expect at all for you to have as much stamina competing with him and venom combined. you even lost count of how many mind-boggling, eye-rolling, tear-jerking orgasms you’ve got snatched out of you. it’s probably been hours, and you and toji were merely both at your inevitable limits.
he’s stuffed you full with sooo many seconds and thirds and fourths and even fifths of sweltering cum that you felt like you were about to burst.
toji’s entirely milked out - or at least, he thinks he is, and now, you’re straddling him.
you’re straddling him, but from behind.
with lazy, droopy eyes, toji slides the tip of his tongue across the seam of his scarred lips as he watches you move. “mhm, gonna go reverse on me, yeah pretty girl?” he huffs, already feeling the slickly torrid mess stick against his thighs.
you’re reaaaal slow - a torturous type of slow that nearly does toji’s head in. he’s peering at your ass moving, but you’re not bouncing.
you’re not bouncing because he and you both knew that not only were you close again but he was too.
toji’s entire body felt hot, preparing lava. the humid, scorching temperature sizzles and arises after each bestial-like slam of your hips and he grunts. “god, y’er a… hah- little brat, arentcha.”
“aw, do you need a break, toji?”
“yes he does-” venom tried to chime in.
“no- no, i don’t,” toji breathes gruffly, beads and beads of sweat tearing down each side of his face. his hair’s all ruffled and unkempt, black strands nearly blocking his vision as his thick neck tosses itself back. “atta girl, ride it then. ride it like it’s fuckin’ yours, baby.”
slap one - and you moaned, hearing and feeling toji’s harsh palm swat against your right left ass cheek.
slap two - and you gasped, his hand smacking against the right.
and the third and final slap - it’s from venom, and one of his tendrils that sloppily slides from between your thighs noisily slaps against your already full, cum-dripping pussy.
toji’s jaw significantly tightens as he just watches in awe, silently gawking at the familiar sight he’s always loved seeing — his pretty ‘lil wife straddling him, he’s missed it, he’s missed you.
“fuck-” you held in a whine by giving the flat of your tongue a soft nibbles.
his cock from all girthy sides was just so fat, and the curve that stretches through your core every time you spring back down against his lap drives you both up the first street of insanity.
this reversing angle—it’s so intimate, and it’s always been one of toji’s weaknesses.
as you’re winding your hips ‘round in a hypnotic, perfect figure eight, venom’s just nagging all in toji’s ear.
the symbiote’s bored, and by the second he’s only getting more and more aroused. with a low grumble, toji told him to just wait then he’d get his turn. hopefully.
you almost did forget about the whole ‘parasite’ thing, but who were you to complain, let alone ask questions?
your legs sprawled nice and wide, and you’re nearly squatting as your cunt continued to swallow every inch of his cock. it’s so wide too, deeply prodding inside ‘till it reaches that pretty cervix of yours.
the curly, black hairs that stuck beneath toji’s slick-covered shaft tickled you, and you’re just panting continuously like a greyhound.
“sugar, fuck- bring those hips back to me like that, mhm. right there, right fuckin’ there . . please-”
please.
oh, he’s begging.
as you maintained a secure grip on his shaky knees with your hands, you heard the wanton tremor in toji’s voice.
by now, he’s reclined allll the way back against your plush pillows with his legs feeling like complete mush. fuck, you’ve probably rode him to death, because he could barely hold onto your hips anymore.
“toji… hah- cum with me, baby-” you mumbled, feeling his clammy fingertips slither down the sides of your waist.
like a wooden chair—you’re just rocking and rocking, not even minding the constant grunts and bellowing groans of your outdated boxspring that sits beneath your mattress.
it’s just so slick - your pussy, it’s sliding up ‘n down toji’s cock and he heard every clamoring, wet splat. he’s just almost mesmerized at how well you knew how to take him every time. his mouth’s as dry as it’s ever been, and you’re starting to feel that oh-so-familiar fluttering pool of butterflies stir in the lower pits of your tummy.
“heh, you called me baby-”
“shut up.”
“make m- ngh-”
blinking thrice, toji grunts once he feels your hand wrap around his neck. you’re still facing forward—riding him in reverse with your arm extended from behind you.
his neck was just so thick that you could barely bring all five fingers to squeeze his neck. “cute-” toji slyly titters, but his brattiness fatally comes to an end once he’s starting to feel his dick twitch.
his body - it’s rumbling, and your cunt’s pulsing increases after each slapping thrust. the stimulation always knew how to make your head spin, and for a second, it just felt like time indefinitely paused.
torrid, cloud breaths draw away straight from toji’s puffed-out chest and he groans. he’s riiight there, he’s right there and he could feel his creamy tip that’s messily poking around your insides trying to cling around your warmth.
as you’re just vigorously slapping your ass against his lap now, he’s left speechless.
“o- oh, oh sugar- your fuckin’ hips, yeahyeaaah-” and he’s whimpering now, long black lashes sticking together with what appears to be tears.
toji’s holding onto your rotating waist tightly, breathing through his nose as he hears each popping slosh of your cunt preparing to wring him dry for the nth time.
“toji, something’s about to-” you’d blurt, pausing mid-sentence, keeping both hands on his knees. toji’s tearing up at the sloppy, vicious strings of cum that threatens to depart from both pairs of slapping thighs that slap louder after each violent pound.
his dick’s all red ‘n swollen, from top to bottom as it’s covered with veins that paint the shriveling sides. your legs were about to give out at any second and so was his.
toji’s tip which was oh-so round ends up massaging your tightening walls perfectly, smothering your sensitive g-spot with a plethora of sweet french kisses.
“ah-” you squeal, your eyes widening as you’re coming to your end again. your throat - it feels so hot, so parched and you’re just gradually being led to your release. the adequate force of your brutal, tossing hips makes toji’s leafy irises reel further back.
glittery, wet lashes stick together piercing both pads of thumbprints into your ridden flesh — and oh, he’s cumming for what’s probably the umpteenth time now.
you both succumb to pleasure and you’re each hit with rippling waves and waves of swelling pleasure. finally, your legs end up collapsing and your jaw’s left goofily hanging.
you end up gushing, clenching internally as your labored breaths get tangled in your full lungs. it’s so wet, and as toji’s cock remained buried idly past the taut ring of your entrance, he’s pouring yet another milky wad of cum inside of you. it’s thick and smooth like honey, stickily melting inside of you like butter.
“mhm, f.. fuck-” you kissed your teeth, hearing toji’s heavy, defeated breaths exhale from behind you.
the air in the room felt so intoxicating - cloudy. as you sat still on his lap with his leaking cock still lodged inside of you, that same aroma of pure filth and intimacy smacks your nostrils right in the face.
its citrusy with a hint of sweetness, and your thighs couldn’t help but shudder above his.
“good girl, heh- think ya cured me just f- fine.” toji hoarsely murmurs, taking every few seconds to breathe.
two rough hands gingerly raise your hips, widely peering at the frothy, white ring that coats around his tan base. pearly, clear slick of your own mess stuck against your thighs as you let off muffled moans.
everything felt so tender - and in every millisecond that passed, you felt all ropes of toji’s cum plug you to the very fullest. “c’mere, girl-” he groggily murmured, and you gasped, feeling one of venom’s tendrils wrap around your waist.
with a swift movement — you’re pulled closer, breaking the distance between the two of you. toji smashes his scarred lips against yours, slipping off occasional husky whimpers in your mouth as he felt your fingers wrap around his flaccid cock. his whines pitch higher, and your thumb runs down a prodding vein that twitches from your touch.
it’s an intense, breath-snatching kiss that leaves you both gasping for air after each smack of departure from lips. as you moaned in his mouth, you could still taste remnants of your treacly arousal on his tongue.
“i love-” he whispers between kisses, and you slide out a whine once you feel venom’s tendrils swirl around your waist.
heartbeats pulsed rapidly, matching tempos of each other as your tongue disappeared inside toji’s mouth.he grunts, bringing his crimson kiss-bitten lips toward the crack of your jaw as your mouth remains agape.
“-you. s ‘much, f- fuck, you sure know how to milk me, sugar. reminds me of our . . hah- honeymoon.”
“just . . stop talking,” you roll your eyes—still feeling the after-effects of your body’s sensitive convulsions. you still felt so stuffed, still feeling the gooey remnants of cum trickle out of your dewy pussy. as toji’s eyes remained hooded and drooped, he flashes you that same smug grin. “i still- love you too-”
“there’s my girl,” toji huskily whispers against your lips, circling a thumb over the line that curves above the top of your mouth. you moaned, watching as he brought your hand up to his before kissing it -
repeatedly, before he brought your empty ring finger up toward his lips and kissed it. “mwah,” and you felt your pulse pick up before feeling toji’s broad arms pick you up. “up and at ‘em, wifey.”
but once you’re positioned to lay flat on your back, that’s when venom switches with toji again. you’re met with the same overly tall, massive ‘parasite’ with a dozen rows of whetted, white teeth.
venom slowly opens his jaw — showcasing his long, dripping pink tongue that dampens even more once he sees your filled pussy twitching solely at the sound of his venomous, deep voice.
all over his body, he’s covered with veins, and as your eyes trail ‘n trail way down, you land at his abs and stop just below his waistline.
your eyes widened as you felt hands softly grab your hips, and he brought one of his tendrils to make you face the other way.
a sultry-sounding moan escapes out of your raw throat as your face plants against your pillow.
“mmgh-” and you let off a surprised breathy gasp, feeling not one but a pair of two rockhard things slapping against the entrance of your bare cunt.
Dating Monkey D. Luffy, the fifth Emperor of the Sea and future Pirate King, while being Vice Admiral Y/n of the Marines? Now that’s a relationship that’s both interesting and complicated.
How did it begin? Well, for the rest of the world, it’s a mystery. For you two, it’s a simple story, but one filled with secrets, adventure, and a whole lot of craziness.
A Typical Day:
Your usual routine back then was nothing extraordinary. Wake up, eat a “special breakfast” cooked by your teacher, train until the sun sets, complete missions when needed, shower, eat again (assuming you don’t pass out from exhaustion), rinse and repeat. The day was pretty predictable—until today.
Today, your teacher gave you a break from your grueling schedule or given an assignment with other navy officers. It seemed like it would be a quiet, relaxing day—until Luffy walked into the picture.
How It All Began:
You’d set off on your usual solo exploration of the island, excited to stretch your legs after weeks of missions and paperwork. You loved finding hidden spots—those places where you could get away from the uniform, the structure, and just enjoy the freedom of being out in nature.
As you wandered deeper into the forest, you stumbled across a clearing. And in that clearing was a group of pirates, one of whom was sitting up in a tree, eating an entire watermelon like it was an everyday snack. You were about to back away, thinking you’d be better off not getting involved, when the pirate in the tree spotted you.
“Well, well! A Marine!” Luffy grinned, his eyes lighting up as he jumped down to land in front of you with way too much enthusiasm. “You’re not gonna arrest me, are you?” he asked, completely unbothered by your uniform.
You blinked, momentarily thrown off by how carefree he seemed. “I—no. I’m just here to explore,” you muttered, trying to play it cool.
Luffy didn’t seem convinced. “But you’re a Marine, right? That means you have to catch bad guys! Are you a good Marine or a bad Marine?” His expression was full of childlike curiosity, and he looked so sincere that you almost found yourself laughing.
“I’m… a Marine,” you said, a little awkwardly. “Just here for a break. No bad guys for today.”
Luffy didn’t miss a beat. “Cool! I’m Luffy! You wanna hang out with us?” He grinned, gesturing to his crew, who seemed just as wild and carefree as he was.
You couldn’t help but feel intrigued. Here you were, a Marine, meeting one of the most notorious pirates in the world, and somehow it didn’t feel as crazy as it should have. You’d never met anyone like him before, and that was something you couldn’t deny.
“Maybe just for a bit,” you said, figuring a quick conversation wouldn’t hurt.
And just like that, Luffy’s infectious energy pulled you in, setting the stage for everything that would follow.
How You Started Dating:
So, how did the two of you go from a casual meeting to this? It wasn’t some grand confession or a dramatic, earth-shattering moment. It was more like a natural progression—Luffy’s relentless enthusiasm mixed with your quiet curiosity.
At first, it was just hanging out on the island here and there, sneaking away from your duties to explore together. But Luffy had a way of making the smallest moments feel exciting—whether it was racing through the jungle or sharing a simple meal under the stars. It was impossible to ignore the chemistry that kept growing between you two.
You didn’t want to overthink it, but it became clear pretty quickly that this wasn’t just a passing fling. There was something about Luffy—his carefree attitude, his passion for life—that made you feel like maybe you could have both worlds. The strict Marine side of you, and the adventurous spirit he brought out in you.
One evening, after a particularly fun day of exploring, Luffy had asked, “So, you wanna join my crew?” It was typical Luffy: bold and straightforward. But before you could answer, he added, “Nah, you’re way too cool for that. But if you ever want to hang out more, just say the word.”
That was it. No big declarations, no asking to be official. But when you said yes with a smile, it felt like the start of something bigger. And from that day on, you found yourselves spending more time together, talking late into the night, and finding moments where it felt like nothing else in the world mattered.
Eventually, the line between just hanging out and dating started to blur. You’d catch yourself thinking about him when you weren’t with him, and you knew he felt the same way. It wasn’t official at first, but neither of you ever really had to say it. The way he’d look at you when you weren’t paying attention, how you’d catch him sneaking glances at you with that signature grin—yeah, it was clear.
It wasn’t until a quiet evening, just the two of you under a blanket of stars, that Luffy pulled you close and said, “I think you’re my favorite person.” And you couldn’t help but smile, knowing that the feeling was mutual.
From that point on, it was no longer a secret between just the two of you—but that didn’t mean the rest of the world had to know just yet.
Keeping It Secret:
How do you manage to keep this relationship under wraps? Disguises. You came up with this idea so you wouldn’t lose your job, and so Luffy wouldn’t get chased down by Marines. With the right disguises, you could spend time together without the fear of being caught.
Luffy is terrible at keeping up with his disguise, though, so it’s mostly you covered from head to toe or changing up your hairstyle. And hey, you know how people sometimes can’t recognize someone when they change their hair? It’s like that.
Luffy loves your disguises, especially when you switch your hair up to something cool. He’ll always give you that goofy grin of his whenever you come up with a new look, and you can’t help but laugh at how seriously he takes it. You’d both joke around, calling each other silly names while you’d put together new outfits or change up your hairstyle, just to add to the fun. Sometimes, Luffy tries to dress up too, but he tends to go overboard, like wearing an absurdly large hat or putting on sunglasses that cover half his face. It’s always a mess, and it makes you laugh every time.
“Look, I’m totally incognito,” Luffy says dramatically, adjusting his oversized hat, which just about covers his whole face. You can’t stop yourself from laughing. “No one will recognize me now!”
“Uh-huh, sure,” you tease, trying to hold back your smile. “Totally not obvious, Luffy.”
But Luffy, ever the optimist, simply shrugs, grinning even wider. “I’ll still sneak up on you. Bet you won’t even see me coming!”
You roll your eyes but can’t help but laugh. “You’re impossible.”
Despite his tendency to forget the whole “secret” part, you enjoy these moments of fun with him. He makes you forget about all the rules, all the stress that comes with being in the Marines. And honestly? You’re happy for it.
Of course, while you both joke around with disguises, Luffy sometimes forgets how important it is to stay low-key. But that’s part of the charm—he’s always himself, no matter what. And as much as you try to keep a low profile, you can’t help but feel drawn to him, even in his ridiculous disguise.
Luffy’s Attitude Toward Secrecy:
Luffy’s relationship with secrecy? It’s like his relationship with Ace—he doesn’t exactly broadcast it to the world, but once he’s with you, he can’t help but act like he’s the happiest guy alive. He won’t go running around telling everyone that you’re his girlfriend, but once he sees you, he’ll acknowledge you in his usual loud, Luffy-like way.
At first, it was embarrassing when he did it in front of his crew. One moment, you’re quietly walking through a busy port, trying to blend in, and the next thing you know, Luffy’s voice rings out across the crowd. “Y/N!!” He’d shout your name, waving his arms wildly as he ran toward you. It’s impossible not to turn red as all eyes shift to you in surprise—some of his crew’s jaws dropping at the sight.
You’ve learned to cover his mouth on occasion, your hand pressed to his face in a desperate attempt to keep him quiet while you whisper, “Luffy, not here!” But of course, Luffy doesn’t seem bothered at all. He’d just look up at you with a goofy grin, unfazed. “But I’m excited to see you!” He’d say, voice muffled, but still so eager. And the worst part? You couldn’t really stay mad at him, especially when his joy is so genuine.
There are moments when you’re out in public, and you can’t help but laugh at how ridiculous the whole thing is—Luffy yelling your name like you’re the only person in the world. It’s his own brand of romance, and it’s hard to stay mad when he’s so unapologetically himself.
As for flirting? Luffy doesn’t know how to do it. At all. The closest thing he can do is give you a compliment in his own blunt way, like telling you, “You’re really cool, Y/N!” or “You look strong today!” But there’s no subtlety in his approach—it’s just pure Luffy. His idea of showing affection is simple, direct, and completely unpolished. Honestly, that’s about as good as it gets with him, but in his world, it’s enough.
You’ve come to appreciate the way he loves you, even if it’s not what you’re used to. His sincerity is overwhelming in its simplicity, and at the end of the day, it’s just another thing you wouldn’t change about him.
When People Find Out:
Eventually, your secret couldn’t stay hidden forever. It all started with an innocent goodbye, as Luffy was preparing to leave after a short visit.
You were standing on the dock, your crew already ready to head out on another assignment. Luffy, ever the spontaneous one, pulled you into a tight hug before quickly planting a kiss on your cheek. Then, just as fast, he launched himself back toward his ship, shouting over his shoulder, “I’ll see you soon, Y/N!” His crew cheered and waved him off, but the awkwardness for you was just beginning.
You could feel the weight of your entire fleet’s shocked stares as you stood there, momentarily frozen. You quickly turned away, trying to hide your flustered expression. But before you could gather your thoughts, Luffy was already sailing off into the horizon.
Smoker, who had witnessed the whole interaction from a distance, kept his word and didn’t speak of it. But you could feel his judgmental eyes boring into you from behind his cigarette. His words echoed in your mind long after: “A marine dating a pirate… ridiculous.”
Your Crew’s Reaction:
Your crew? Oh, they were relentless. At first, only a handful of them suspected something was going on. They noticed the odd disappearances, the late-night absences, and how you’d always come back looking a little too happy. Once they pieced it together, they wasted no time in teasing you about it.
“Going on another ‘mission’?” one of them would wink, and you’d just sigh in response, not bothering to deny it. They respected your privacy enough to not push too much, but the teasing was never-ending.
Despite more and more people catching on, you didn’t have a major issue with it. Everyone who knew swore secrecy, and you knew you could trust them. It was a strange kind of camaraderie that you didn’t take for granted. But that didn’t mean your life was any less complicated.
The Water 7 Incident:
Then came the day when everything hit the fan. You were assigned to assist the marines on Water 7 post Enies Lobby. You knew there’d be a chance you’d encounter Luffy, but you figured it wouldn’t be so out in the open for people unaware of your relationship to see.
Boy, were you wrong.
You were among the marines preparing for the assault when you spotted Luffy in the distance. The instant he saw you, his face lit up like a Christmas tree. And of course, he couldn’t help himself.
“Y/N!” he called out, his voice booming across the yard. The entire marine contingent froze, and you could feel the heat rise to your face as you quickly tried to shrink into the background. But Luffy was having none of it. He grinned wildly, walking straight toward you with no regard for the dozens of eyes now on the two of you.
“Hey, I missed you!” He threw an arm around you, pulling you into another one of those enthusiastic hugs of his, and planting a loud kiss on your forehead. The looks of utter shock from both your fellow marines and the Straw Hat crew were nearly enough to make you faint. You were thankful for the distraction of the incoming battle, but the damage had already been done.
In the midst of all the chaos, the last person you expected to witness this was none other than Luffy grandfather, Monkey D. Garp. He was standing off to the side, hands behind his back, grinning like a maniac. His booming voice broke the stunned silence:
“Well, well, well! Look at that! My grandson’s got himself a marine!”
The entire scene was a mess. The marine soldiers, especially those who hadn’t known about your relationship with Luffy, were left wide-eyed and speechless. Garp, on the other hand, just laughed, slapping you on the back like it was the funniest thing he’d ever seen.
“You’ve got guts, Y/N! A marine and a pirate, huh?” Garp chuckled, clearly more amused than shocked. His grin widened as he turned toward Luffy. “I’m proud of you, boy! You’ve chosen a marine as my grand daughter in law!”
You could only stand there, face burning with embarrassment as you tried to salvage whatever dignity you had left in that moment.
Luffy, ever the carefree one, laughed alongside Garp, completely unfazed by the stares or the awkwardness. He simply gave you a bright, easy grin. “You’re cool with it, right? I’m just doing what makes me happy!”
And just like that, the secret was out—officially, publicly out.
In Summary:
You two have a complicated, secret relationship, but it’s filled with adventure, laughter, and plenty of heart. Between the disguises, the teasing from your crew, and the awkward encounters with Garp, one thing is certain: Luffy and you are in this together, and there’s nothing that will stop the bond you share.
Boxer!Geto who is one of Japan’s most famous and skilled kickboxers, living a life of fame, money, and indulgence. His good looks, wealth, and talent attract admiration from all corners of the world, allowing him to live the high life alongside his peers. But when a long-standing favor between his father and Actress!Y/n’s father comes to light, Suguru’s world is upended.
Boxer!Geto who finds out about the arranged marriage on the night of a big match, while celebrating with his friends at a party. His assistant delivers the shocking news, showing him headlines across major blogs and news outlets: ‘Geto Suguru Engaged to Actress!Y/n!’ Suguru is initially stunned, believing it’s just another rumor. But when his father confirms the arrangement the next day, Suguru is forced to accept it, though reluctantly.
Actress!Y/n who is a confident and strategic American actress who, knowing the history between her father and Suguru’s father, proposes the idea of the arranged marriage after hearing about the favor. She sees it as a mutually beneficial situation that will help her career while maintaining her family’s reputation. Actress!Y/n is unbothered by the whole situation, as she knows her own worth and is confident she can make the arrangement work without sacrificing her independence.
Boxer!Geto who is irritated and resistant at first but becomes intrigued by how effortlessly Actress!Y/n handles the public’s scrutiny. While Suguru finds it difficult to understand her lack of desperation for his approval, he secretly admires her confidence and professionalism.
Actress!Y/n who is not interested in breaking through Suguru’s walls or trying to get him to like her. She simply tells him, “I don’t need you to like me, but it’ll make things easier for both of us if we get along in private too.” Suguru is taken aback by her bluntness but starts to see the truth in her words. Actress!Y/n doesn’t waste time or energy trying to win him over—she’s focused on her own goals, and if they can work together in a functional, no-drama manner, she’s satisfied.
Boxer!Geto who starts to notice how Actress!Y/n maintains her cool in every situation, whether it’s handling tough media questions or navigating public events. Suguru, who is used to people either avoiding conflict or trying to please him, begins to see the value in Actress!Y/n’s no-nonsense approach.
Actress!Y/n who continues to remain unbothered by Suguru’s mood swings. When he’s cold or distant, she doesn’t take it personally and simply goes about her own life. She’s here for the arrangement to benefit both of them, and as long as Suguru plays his part in public, she’s fine keeping their private moments calm and straightforward.
Boxer!Geto who starts to respect Actress!Y/n’s ability to handle herself and her career with such grace. She’s not here to play games, and she doesn’t let him drag her into unnecessary drama. He slowly begins to admire her strength and her ability to stay grounded, even in the face of mounting pressure.
Actress!Y/n who respects Suguru’s dedication to his fighting career. While she doesn’t need to fawn over him, she appreciates the effort he puts into his craft and, when it’s earned, offers him genuine praise. Her balanced approach makes it easy for Suguru to start seeing her as more than just a contractual partner, but as someone with integrity.
Boxer!Geto who begins to soften, not because Actress!Y/n presses him, but because her calm, no-drama attitude helps him relax and stop overthinking. He begins to see her as someone who will never push him but instead works with him, creating a surprisingly comfortable dynamic between them. Suguru’s gradual shift is not from desire but respect—he begins to appreciate the person Actress!Y/n is, not just the actress or the “wife” he’s been thrust into this arrangement with.
Actress!Y/n who continues to set clear boundaries, ensuring their marriage doesn’t take over her life. She balances her career, personal life, and public appearances, all while maintaining a straightforward, honest approach with Suguru. Her lack of desperation to change the arrangement or to force a deeper connection keeps everything simple, while also building an unexpected mutual respect between the two.
here you were stuck in an estate as his new loyal servant. you didn't want any of this. your parents were killed during one of his impulsive massacres and for whatever reason, he had to take you in. he didn't murder you.
you hated emperor!sukuna. he was never nice and always ordered you around a bit more than the others, but you had to endure. you didn't want to end up like the countless servants who were beheaded after making simple mistakes. emperor!sukuna was ruthless.
little did you know he had taken interest in you. he had no idea why, but he found you so interesting. he would catch himself following your every move as you tended to his garden while he was meditating or when his concubines were feeding him fruits and what not.
you never dared looking him in the eyes as you served him and that slightly bothered him. he knew he was your king but to him that rule didn't apply to you. and how would you know if he hasn't told you. he started making you perform more tasks for him, much to your displeasure so that he can stare at you for as long as you were there next to him. when he wasn't around the estate, he had uraume report your moves to him.
he started spending less time with his concubines, his mind invaded with thoughts of you. how dare you! but he wasn't exactly mad at you. how could he be when you were so pretty when you served him.
after a while had passed, he decided to make a move. he didn't outright tell you that he wanted you even though he knew that he could, like how he did with his concubines, but he wanted it to be different. you were called into his chambers and there you saw him standing next to his bed in all his height. you hated him but where afraid of him. who wouldn't be afraid of a being with four arms, a mouth on their stomach and who's height was competing with that of a tree.
you bowed down and greeted him. he hummed and nodded at you then started taking off his robe. you quickly looked down as a man had never before undressed infront of. he stared at you as he took of his robes and he was now standing there with all his glory.
"i want you to bathe me", he said and headed into the bathroom and sat on the stool made especially for him. water was already ready for him.
"i'm sorry... but i'm not the one who normally does this-"
"i don't care. i need a bathe and i called you hear. so do it", he said in a menacing voice as he narrowed his eyes at you.
"yes master", you bowed and got to work. you poured water on his chiselled body and then lathered him with soap. you had to clean him properly and so you took your time unwillingly as he just stared at you the entire time as you avoided eye contact. he hated this. he hated the fact that you didn't want to look at him.
"face me", he startled you as you stopped your actions.
"i'm sorry my lord"
"look at me", he said and you hesitantly looked at him all his four eyes focused on you. you felt a drop of sweat roll down the side of your face but he didn't seem like he had any ill intensions. you broke eye contact and rinsed off the soap off his body.
"i want you to be mine", you stopped in your tracks again, clearly startled. there was absolutely no way this was going to happen.
"i'm sorry my lord but i don't... feel the same way you do", you said your heart pounding worried that something was going to happen to you. he narrowed his eyes at you and looked away. you were done bathing him and went back to his room where his robes were already set for him on his bed.
you helped him get dressed and bowed as you were done. "i'll be taking my leave now my lord", you said and walked out. he felt angry but his chest felt kind of weird. it hurt for some reason. he had wanted to kill you, but how could he have someone who was already dead. he clenched his fist angrily.
content: mdni, angst and fluff and smut, modern AU, f! reader(s), established relationships, breakups/makeups, all of these take place in the same au but with diff readers, oral (m! + f! receiving), piv sex, sukuna + naoya are their own warnings lol, gojo + choso being down atrociously for their girls :p
cyberbully!Sukuna x f2p!Reader
one two three four five
ex-bf!Naoya x influencer!Reader
one two three four five
streamer!Choso x fangirl!Reader
one two three four five
cutscenes: game over?
chronically online loser loverboy!Gojo x nerdy!Reader
warnings: nsfw 🔞, voyeurism, professor/student, cum eating (kinda), age gap (gojo is 28 reader is 22) this is a long one~
“go!” nobara pushes you towards professor gojo, where he’s chatting and undoubtedly bothering professor nanami, making you stumble over your feet awkwardly in front of the two.
the two men halt their talk and glance down at you, gojo’s piercing blue eyes basically glowing.
“hello,” nanami greets you, allowing the silent question to linger in the air about what you need help with, whether you have a question, or why you’ve approached two professors.
you swallow hard, sneaking a glance over your shoulder at nobara and yuji, who are laughing and giving you enthusiastic thumbs-up, while megumi simply sighs.
“something wrong?” gojo questions as you turn back to them, a playful tint to his tone as always.
there’s a rumor going around the school about gojo satoru. being the most popular professor on campus, it's no surprise he’s got a few rumors floating around but this one in particular has become quite popular among the students.
asking gojo about it face to face seemed funny at the time— you, nobara , and yuji had been in stitches over the thought, even though megumi couldn’t find the humor in it. and since you lost the bet, you’re the one stuck confronting him. you can’t prove yuji and nobara didn’t rig the bet knowing you have a crush on gojo but you’re pretty sure they did because they’re giggling like school girls a few feet away.
as you stand before your tall, imposing professor and the weight of what you’re about to do sinks in—you must’ve been out of your mind to think this was ever a good idea.
“no,” you shake your head and hold your hands behind your back stiffly.
“so my adored student just wanted to come say hi?” with a smile, he tilts his head slightly, leaning down just enough to bring his towering frame closer to your level, “how nice~!”
“i have work to do,” nanami sighs at gojo before turning to you, “if you have any questions you know where to find me but please, keep it essential.”
since nanami knows gojo is one of your professors as well, he figures whatever you have to say can be said to him. it’s clear nanami takes any chance to escape gojo’s antics and he’s using you to do so now so you nod at him with a polite smile before he leaves.
gojo hums in a question, in a sing song tone, urging you to speak.
“i was just wondering-,” you press your lips together and let out a muffled huff in an attempted concealed laugh, “what size pants you wear.”
“huh?” he draws out, tilting his head a bit more as his face contorts in playful confusion.
“is one of my esteemed students gonna buy me a gift?” he coos as he stands straight once again and rests his hands on his hips, coming to the conclusion that you’re asking so you can buy him a pair of pants.
you press your lips together briefly and shrug noncommittally.
“i’m usually a size medium,” he says with his natural smile.
you hum, a laugh brimming on the surface as you hear the mumble of yuji and nobara snickering a few feet away.
“are they.. too tight?” you question with hardly concealed amusement, making his brows twitch in slight confusion.
“tight?” he repeats, growing lost on what you’re really asking as his gaze flickers down at his pants briefly.
“they seem a bit tight,” you blurt out, a giggle escaping as you bolt back to your friends, not giving gojo a chance to respond.
he’s left standing there, blinking in confusion and checking the back and front of his pants like he’s worried there’s some kind of a stain somewhere. you crash into nobara and yuji, both of them bursting into giggles as they fast-walk alongside you, asking you to piece together what just happened since they only caught parts of it. meanwhile, megumi trails behind with a bored look, eyes half-lidded as if this is just another typical day for him.
the mischief you, yuji, nobara, and megumi got up to deflated as soon as you got home. alone in your dorm, you’d found yourself groaning, face in your hands, cheeks burning as you replayed what you’d immaturely said to the most popular, attractive professor in your college. cursing yourself under your breath, the thrill of the moment now felt more like embarrassment.
the next day in gojo’s class, it’s a little uncomfortable for you, but with over fifty students filling the room, you figure it’ll be fine.
gojo taught his class with the same playful energy as always, but when his gaze lingered on you for just a moment mid-lecture, you sank awkwardly into your seat, that familiar heat rising to your cheeks.
after class, as you tried to slip away within the crowd of students, he stopped you in your tracks. you gave him a polite, slightly relieved smile when all he did was ask if you could deliver a stack of papers to professor geto on your way out. you figured he must have forgotten about your little encounter or just brushed it off as a harmless joke from some silly students.
lunchtime on campus, even in college, still has its cliques. some tables are for the smarter students, others for the athletes, with groups shifting from one table to another but always sticking to their usual crowd. but two of the circular tables never change: the ones ‘reserved’ for the professors. even when none of them are there, those tables stay empty, a silent understanding that they belong to them alone.
“you’re saying nothing happened? he didn’t even ask you what you were talking about?” yuji questions you in his natural loud manner with a mouth full of his sandwich from across the table.
“what do you mean?” nobara scoffs a laugh, “she pussied out and didn’t even say what she was supposed to say.”
you huff and drop your bag down beside you to rest your forearms atop the table, elbows brushing against nobara’s and megumi’s.
“well, he kinda-” you steal a quick glance over your shoulder at the professors' table, where professor gojo and a few other male professors are chatting over lunch, before cringing and quickly turning your attention back to your friends, “-gave me a look in class.”
nobara perks up at this as yuji shoves more of his sandwich into his mouth, even though megumi likes to feign disinterest with his head in his book, you can tell he’s tuning into the conversation as well.
“a look? what does that mean? like a ‘look- look?’” nobara questions with amusement and two jumps to her brows, jabbing your arm with her elbow.
you snicker at the insinuation while yuji seems lost and megumi simply cringes a bit.
before you can respond, yuji tilts his head and swallows a huge mouthful painfully before chewing it properly and speaking quickly.
“huh? what’s a ‘look- look’?” he asks innocently, assuming it must be a sort of ‘girl’ thing.
“how stupid are you?” nobara insults yuji in her natural insulting way which never seems to bother him, “context clues?”
“come on, tell me!” yuji whines before turning to megumi, “what’s a look look?”
“don’t ask me, idiot,” megumi says in a monotone before he politely takes a bite of his chip.
“it’s that look megumi gives you after a long day,” nobara teases dramatically, “you know, the one where he’s just longing to push you against the wall and whisper sweet nothings into your ear while he—”
“do not finish that sentence,” megumi warns, looking up from his book to send nobara a glare that she simply brushes off with a snicker.
“wait, gojo gave you that kind of look?” yuji asks with his mouth in a literal ‘o,’ showing off all of the mush inside. yuji either knows that nobara is trying to tease him but just doesn’t mind, or he’s very ignorant.
you shake your head immediately with a playful eye roll and a smile that conveys you’re used to your friends’ behavior, “no, he definitely did not give me that look.”
“then what?” nobara prods, less enthusiastic now but still interested as she snacks on her lunch.
“it was more like,” you sigh and squint at the ceiling as you attempt to think of what to call it, “a -she-looks-familiar—is-she-the-weird-girl-who-said-something-about-my-pants-being-too-tight- look.”
megumi snickers at you quietly without even looking up from his book as yuji simply continues ravishing his sandwich.
“ah,” nobara snorts and pats your shoulder awkwardly, “that’s rough buddy.”
“eh—i’m sure he doesn’t care,” yuji dismisses, small bits of lettuce flying out of his mouth, “professor gojo is cool.”
“he probably thinks i’m a weirdo,” you rub your hands down your face with a breathy laugh.
you’re not overly worried; it’s more of a lighthearted concern than a serious one. you’re aware you’re likely not so special as to be seen as anothing in gojo satoru’s world, much less a weirdo. gojo has many students and probably doesn’t remember most of them. still, you like to think you stand out since he often asks you to help him with tasks, like delivering things to other professors or grabbing items for him after class.
“well, look at it this way,” nobara says with a shrug, “at least now he’s thinking about you, even if he’s thinking you’re a freak who’s obsessed with his pants.”
“yeah!” yuji calls out enthusiastically, “he’s probably like, ‘what color panties does my weird student have on today?’”
yuji laughs at his own joke but it’s silent otherwise as you all blink at him—even megumi.
“dude,” nobara deadpans with a grimace, “you’re a perv.”
yuji’s gaze flickers at all three of you as his face contorts in offense, “what? i was joking!”
you snort and megumi grimaces at him before turning back to his book.
“anyways,” nobara brushes yuji’s transgressions off, “this is a good opportunity for you! get into his pants and confirm or deny the rumors.”
“huh?” yuji shouts at nobara with a mouthful, “you’re the perv!”
you huff and shake your head before standing as nobara flicks yuji’s forehead harshly, “i’m gonna go get lunch, be back.”
as you reach to pay for your usual at one of the cafes surrounding the cafeteria tables with some crinkled up bills in hand, a sleek black mastercard suddenly appears in front of you.
“oh—! throw in one of those cookies too,” a familiar voice sings like a child with a sweet tooth before they swipe their heavy, luxury card.
your gaze travels up the long fingers, and your eyes widen for a moment before you quickly try to mask your surprise when you meet the familiar sight of white hair and that charming smile aimed at the blushing lunch lady.
“professor goj— you didn’t need to do that,” you let out an awkward laugh as you grab your packaged food and gojo snatches one of the cookies from the display.
“don’t be silly! come on,” he coos, giving your head a quick pat before slinging an arm over your shoulders and guiding you forward. you find yourself stumbling to keep up, his long legs striding effortlessly while your shorter steps scramble to match his pace.
your face betrays a blend of fluster and slight panic as you avoid the gaze of the many students watching and whispering. fortunately, not all of them are focused on you—some watch discreetly while others remain absorbed in their own conversations.
“this is my free hour-” you say nervously, attempting to politely express your desire to join your friends for lunch rather than follow him to whatever teaching-related errand he likely has in mind, “uh—where are we going—”
“you’re gonna eat anyways so—eat with us,” gojo chirps as you approach a table of familiar, intimidating professors in their suits, jackets casually removed. they had been quietly enjoying their lunches, but now they glance up at you, curiosity evident in their expressions.
“o-oh— um—” you stutter nervously, your gaze darting to the side where your friends are staring at you with their jaws dropped.
“let the poor girl sit with her friends, satoru,” professor geto shakes his head softly, clearly accustomed to gojo’s antics and unpredictability. l
everyone knows that professor geto and gojo are close, with rumors of their friendship going back to high school. the way they interact only adds weight to the speculation— they’re often seen chatting or sitting in on each others lectures.
you glance up at gojo, still weighing your shoulders down with his long arm, and give him a questioning look, silently asking if you can follow geto’s suggestion.
“aww,” gojo pouts theatrically as he gazes down at you, “you’re gonna hurt your favorite professors feelings!”
he’s making it clear in a playful way that you’d have to find a way to slip out of his grasp somehow as to get out of this situation. it’s as if he knows it’d be too awkward for you to try to get away at this point since he payed for your food.
your mouth opens and closes and before you can respond, he speaks again with amusement.
“sit,” gojo chuckles and nudges you toward the open seat.
you lower yourself into it hesitantly, while gojo practically bounces into the chair beside you, already unwrapping his cookie. despite your best effort to press your legs together, your knees still brush against gojo’s manspread thigh on one side and geto’s on the other. every bit of your stiff body language shows your discomfort, as though you’re instinctively trying to make yourself smaller, hoping to disappear into a hole in the ground.
as you settle into your seat, you glance at your friends and catch nobara gesturing at you with urgency, her expression screaming, ‘what are you doing?’ in response, you give a panicked shrug that conveys, ‘i don’t fucking know,’ before redirecting your focus to the professors.
professor nanami sighs, clearly disappointed by gojo’s antics in bringing a student into this setting. he adjusts his tie and turns his attention to you.
“hello again,” nanami greets you with polite formality, treating you like just another student—which you are—the absurdity of your presence at this table is impossible to ignore. it’s not about rules; professors just simply don’t sit with students, you assume it’s more due to needing time to themselves and a break from taking on that professor persona than anything else.
“uh— hi,” you greet back, slowly setting your food down in front of you as gojo takes a big bite of his cookie.
professor geto says your name with his signature soft smile, “it’s nice to see you again.”
“oh- it’s nice to see you too, professor,” you smile awkwardly with a brief short nod.
a moment of silence passes— an awkward moment for you. geto’s not too surprised since it’s difficult to phase him but its definitely a bit different to have a student at the table, nanami’s irritation is directed at gojo like usual, while gojo remains blissfully cheerful and nonchalant.
“relax~” gojo sings dramatically and nods down at your food, “eat, eat, we’re all friends here.”
you blink down at your food, then glance up at the professors, bewildered. how can you eat when it feels like the entire lunchroom is buzzing about you? the unspoken barrier between teachers and students looms large, highlighting why these interactions are rare.
you can hear nanami sigh before he resumes eating, clearly judging gojo’s inappropriate comment suggesting that a student and a professor could be friends.
“we don’t bite,” gojo urges you playfully like you’re a scared kitty as he leans down closer to your level, nudging your leg with his, “go on.”
geto lets out a soft huff in amusement before shaking his head gently and taking a swig of his coffee.
you let out a soft, nervous chuckle before hesitantly starting to eat, trying to block out the way the chatter of the students suddenly grows louder the moment you take your first bite. it’s as if you taking a bite solidifies the fact that you’re actually eating lunch with them.
gojo says your name slowly, like he’s recalling something, “you wrote that paper on the idea that humans would be able to teleport if we had the right equation, didn’t you?”
your brows raise in surprise and you quickly swallow your bite as you glance up at him beside you. half of you expected him not to even read the papers his students submit since he has so many, much less remember your name from it.
“oh— yeah that’s me,” you chuckle nervously with a small smile and nod.
“very interesting,” he compliments with his charming smile, “i love students who think outside the box.”
you can’t stop the warmth creeping into your cheeks at his praise; professor gojo is so charming it’s almost painful.
“that does sound interesting,” professor geto hums and chuckles a bit, “we don’t get fun topics like that in history much, do we?”
you huff softly, some tension dissolving because of the way they’re speaking so naturally to you, clearly attempting to make you more comfortable.
“i love history, actually,” you timidly express with a small smile towards the professor, causing him to smile back softly.
“oh, really? that’s good to hear,” geto expresses sweetly.
“pft,” gojo playfully teases, “physics is much more fun than history.”
professor nanami, who’s a calculus professor simply sighs and doesn’t interject on the topic. if he did care enough to say something, he’d say school isn’t meant to be ‘fun,’ but to improve on one’s learning.
“physics is just over analyzing things that dont need it,” professor geto dismisses mockingly, setting down his coffee cup and giving it a slight push to emphasize his point. “like pushing and pulling—it doesn’t really need an explanation.”
you glance back and forth between the two playfully bickering, finding it amusing to see your professors acting so lighthearted together up close.
“at least we’re living in the future, history is just the study of what’s already happened,” gojo banters back, “boring— been there done that.”
professor geto rolls his eyes lightheartedly before continuing to sip his coffee.
“right, my new favorite little student?” gojo sings as he nudges your side with his elbow, making you jerk a bit.
“oh- i don’t know,” you laugh nervously, still flickering back and forth from the two.
“don’t bring a student into your foolish nonsense,” nanami intervenes, making gojo ‘boo’ at him.
“no no, i wanna know too,” professor geto huffs with a soft smile, ignoring nanami, “history or physics?”
“you wont get in trouble~ c’mon, choose,” gojo taunts with a smile.
you gulp as you eye the both of them awaiting your answer, anxious to be put on the spot and for both attractive professors to have their eyes solely on you.
“sorry,” you say with a slight cringe at geto, “physics is just so engaging— not that i don’t love history too though.”
“ahh,” gojo calls out boisterously, “looks like i win.”
geto acts as if he’s been shot in the chest, though not very dramatically. “and here i thought you loved my class.”
“i do!” you claim with a small smile as gojo wraps his arm around your shoulder and forces your head to rest slightly on his chest.
“it’s okay,” gojo says to you in a teasing whisper though he’s looking at geto, “you can tell him his class sucks, he’ll only take it partially up the ass.”
“language,” nanami monotones with his tired eyes focused on his salad.
“oops!” gojo brushes him off nonchalantly as he briefly squeezes your shoulder with his hand that’s so large that his finger tips graze the side of your chest, “we’re all adults here, right?”
after a moment of silence, your confused gaze flickers from the two professors eyeing you and then up at gojo before growing flustered again.
“oh— um— yeah, i’m twenty two,” you explain with an internal cringe that you made them wait for your answer.
“see?” gojo sings as he moves to rest his forearms back on the table, “a little cursing won’t send her to the corner to think on her actions.”
nanami simply rolls his eyes.
geto snickers, clearly amused by how his two friends treat you as though you're some naive young woman, despite being only six years younger than him and gojo, and even closer in age to nanami.
“definitely won’t,” geto adds on with a soft genuine smile, despite the way he’s obviously joining in on gojo’s teasing, “you do curse, right?”
you blink at him and let out a playful, hesitant huff, half-expecting them to laugh it off as a rhetorical joke, but they seem serious—aside from the barely hidden amusement they're clearly enjoying.
“uh— yes,” you answer slightly humiliated to be forced to say that aloud to the older men who know damn well already that you curse— since you were fourteen in fact.
“naughty,” gojo teasingly points at you as if reprimanding you, “so then, what’s your favorite one?”
“my favorite,” you pause with a confused twitch to your brow, though you’re already aware of what he’s asking, “curse word?”
he hums with a smile and nods.
“um— i guess,” you clear your throat as the tips of your ears heat up ,“fuck.”
you’re aware it’s not taboo to curse in front of them since you’re all adults, but it still feels a bit wrong because of their status— as though you’ll get in trouble or something.
gojo lets out a bubbly laugh as geto chuckles airily.
“that’s a good one,” gojo speaks through giggles, “my favorite too.”
you awkwardly extend your arms and clasp your hands together, then squeeze your thighs around your hands, a harsh heat rising to your face as you chew on your inner cheek with a smile that feels mandatory.
you glance at your friends, who are still watching you intently, bickering among themselves about what you might be discussing and how gojo seems to be laughing, before turning your attention back to your professors.
“anyways,” gojo sings, crinkling up his cookie wrapper and moving to face you with one ankle lazily resting over his knee, “we ate together, you love my class, and now i know your favorite curse word. i’d say that means we’re officially friends, don’t you?”
“uh-” your brows twitch slightly, unsure of what he’s getting at, “i suppose.”
“good~!” he sings cheerfully, “then that means you can help me out with something, riight?”
you glance at the other professors who eye gojo, unsure of what he’s saying.
“like what?” you question curiously, expecting some kind of paperwork help again.
“what was that thing that you said to me the other day?” he asks but it seems as though this isn’t the answer to your question of what he wants from you yet, more of a preface to it.
you choke on your spit briefly before uttering a respectful ‘excuse me’ and wiping your mouth with a handkerchief professor nanami offers you as heat burns in your cheeks and ears.
“w-what did i say? i didn’t say anything to you the other day,” you ramble as you clench the handkerchief in your lap.
“oh, you remember!” gojo says with a giggle, genuinely believing your claim but urging to refresh your memory, “something about my pants?”
at this, nanami’s dissatisfied expression towards the situation and generally at gojo turns into a slightly cocked brow at you in curiosity. geto’s curiosity seems to be piqued as well, quietly sipping on his coffee as his gaze lands on you.
“oh,” you gulp and attempt to hold a poker face, “i— uh— don’t really remember.”
“either way,” gojo waves you off casually, “it feels like my students are acting off lately and since we’re such good friends now, i thought you’d be able to tell me what your peers are up to.”
gojo’s words make you realize that your encounter with him wasn’t the only one he’s had like it recently; the rumor has become quite popular, and you’re honestly surprised none of the teachers seem to know about it.
“is this about that rumor?” geto questions gojo curiously, making your brows perk up.
“what rumor?” gojo repeats with interest, leaning into the table towards geto.
geto and gojo turn towards you comically simultaneously and even nanami’s eyes are on you, waiting for you to elaborate.
just as you’re about to respond, your mouth closes abruptly when a loud voice rings out across the cafeteria, piercing through the chatter and ensuring that everyone within earshot can hear it.
it’s a male student attempting to imitate what he believes are a woman’s moans, dramatically punctuating his performance with a semi-coherent sentence that escapes his lips in an exaggerated tone.
“fuck~ how big is it, professor gojo?” with a clearly mischievous grin, the male student shouts before sprinting off with his friends, their laughter echoing behind them as they make their exit.
a few days after the humiliating lunch with your favorite professors, you approach the door of professor gojo’s classroom with intentions to play the role of messenger once again and return a stack of files that professor geto requested of you.
but as your fingers graze the cracked door door, ready to swing it open, your face drains of blood as your hand hesitates at the sight of professor gojo in his desk chair, jerking himself off with his brows pinched and lips slightly parted.
his infamous cock, the one that's been on everyone’s mind lately, stands proudly amidst his unbuttoned slacks and a tuft of white hair, a sheen of moisture highlighting its pink hue. his large hand strokes it slowly and knowingly, coaxing clear, milky fluid to weep from the tip as if he’s purposefully teasing himself.
as you watch another bead of pre-cum dribble out, swiftly gathered by his thumb to provide extra lubrication for its impressive length. you can't help but gawk, fully aware now that the infamous rumor is undeniably true.
satoru gojo’s dick is huge.
you almost act appropriately, preparing to back away and return the files to geto with some half-assed excuse— but when a throaty groan escapes his lips as his hips stutter upward into his hand, you pause.
metaphorical drool leaks from your lips as you abandon all morals and watch through the crack of the door as your professor gets himself off in the empty classroom he teaches in—teaches you in.
after a few frustrating strokes with his shirt getting in the way, he pulls it over his head and tosses it aside, showing off his sculpted body as his abs and bicep clenches and releases with every desperate hump into his hand.
the first time he speaks makes you jump, guilty mind immediately assuming you’re caught but when you hear what he whines out, your eyes widen briefly in a trance as your chasm pushes out a drool of slick to pool into your panties.
“yeah? if you want it then touch it— better yet let me open you up?”
it’s as if he’s drifting into a daydream, moaning out words to deepen his immersion in the fantasy. you find it all too familiar— when the sensation of holding your bladder for too long, the pressure teasing sensitive spots, lures you to envision that pressure as a lengthy cock pushing against your walls in a vivid reverie, or when you’re all alone and grind against a surface you know you shouldn’t, imagining it to be someone’s face.
it’s as if his words are steeped in a fantasy of breaking someone in, his fist tightening around the tip as he delivers short, forceful thrusts, never going beyond the upper middle of his cock—like he’s trying to force his way into a tight cunt that he can’t seem to penetrate.
“o-oh! there we go,” he hisses, finally pushing past that first metaphorical ring of muscle and jerking his tight fist all the way down to the base where his white fluff is, “wasnt so— ngh— bad was it? gon’ move now.”
he then keeps his fist wrapped firmly around the underside of his tip, rhythmically thrusting all the way up into his unmoving hand like he’s actually thrusting balls deep into pussy. his jaw is clenched tightly, a conflicted expression etched on his face as his eyes shut tightly and his head tilts back, as if he’s desperately trying to control the pace, fighting the urge to cum too quickly.
“aww,” he coos through humps, the sound strained as he fights to suppress a whine, his tone trembling with every movement, “don’t cry baby—f-fuck— it’ll feel real good in a second.”
your knees grow weak as you chew on your bottom lip, your lidded, glazed eyes glued on his trembling body. you expected the outgoing, dominant professor gojo to remain silent and maturely stoic in the throes of pleasure, but it’s a happy surprise that here he is— a quivering, whiny mess, embarrassingly lost in the fantasy of fucking a crying virgin? who seems to be sobbing at the sheer size of him.
his virgin fantasy would be amusing if the sight wasn’t so fucking hot, making it difficult to focus on anything other than the way his clothed thigh muscles and exposed abdomen tenses and relaxes with every jut into his fist.
then, as he repeatedly murmurs "harder? sure you can handle that?" in a breathless cadence, he seems unable to resist the urge to finally allow his fist to aid his hips, thrusting his hips against his helping hand in a desperate pursuit of that mounting desire.
“i’m sorry— i’m sorry—fuck!” he suddenly moans, the sound louder than anything he’s made thus far, and maybe if you weren’t heart-eyed at the sight of ropes of cum splurting from his tip, you would have glanced around the hallway to ensure no one was witnessing this— or witnessing you witnessing this.
as the realization hits you that he’s apologizing because he’s creaming inside his fantasy virgin girl, you can’t help but let out a soft, deep satisfied breath as one thigh rubs against the other in deep need for friction.
his shaft twitches as cum travels through it, making it feel as though you’re able to see the anatomy of it all, how the muscles in his cock contract and twitch rhythmically to propel milky semen to shoot out and splatter against his clenched, glistening abdomen and hand, some even landing on his black slacks.
you salivate watching as he whines through it, like he can’t handle the high of it, like he’s a victim to his own self induced orgasm. but when the short moment subsides, and you watch as he sighs deeply in satisfaction before tucking his still- hard dick back into his slacks, you gulp and straighten up.
you turn toward the exit, the door you were just peeking through to your right. just as you’re about to speed walk all the way to your dorm to shamelessly rub yourself into next week, you briefly clench your eyes shut and let out a soft exhale, mentally cursing yourself for succumbing to the urge to see what would happen if you entered his classroom.
before you realize it, you’re pushing open his door, surprisingly successfully concealing your amusement as you watch him jump slightly and clear his throat at the sight of you. he quickly straightens his shirt and leans the front of his hips against his desk, hands resting atop it lazily.
“oh, i’m sorry,” you say contorting your face into an innocent student who feels bad for potentially disturbing their professor, “did i interrupt something? i should have knocked, i can come back—”
“huh? oh—no, no, of course not,” he nervously huffs, his natural playful nature tinted. he glances at the clock on the wall before flickering back at you, “it’s late, what’s up?”
“professor geto wanted me to give these to you,” you smile respectfully as you set the pile of files onto the desk, eyes lingering on the white stain of leftover cum on his slacks.
“ah— i see, thank you.” he lifts the first file, feigning interest at the front of the one beneath it, which reveals nothing but a name. his gaze then flicks up to meet yours that’s trained elsewhere, and you quickly look away from the stain, warmth creeping into your cheeks as you realize he noticed your wandering attention.
by the look on his face, it’s clear he doesn’t know exactly what made you flustered; he simply recognizes that he’s caught you off guard, his expression neutral yet attentive.
“it’s no big deal,” you dismiss, hands intertwined behind your back as you rock back on your heels and glance around the room like you’re observing it even though you’ve been in this classroom more than fifty times by now.
his eyes dart down to his pants where your gaze had lingered curiously, and they widen in realization. he clears his throat and hastily shifts the pile of files to conceal his front where the cum stain is, a hint of fluster crossing his features.
“is there anything else i can help with?” he questions, making you hum in thought.
“actually— yeah,” you nod with ‘genuine’ concern, making his head tilt in slight curiosity.
“can you break me i—” you can hear his breath catch as his body stiffens, his ears perking up at your familiar words, making the corner of your lips twitch smugly and undetectably, “—i mean, can you break in my grade a little for this semester? i just really need those credits, maybe there’s some extra work i can help with?”
he blinks for a moment and then shakes his head to dispel his thoughts, laughing lightheartedly at himself for clearly mishearing you.
“right— uh— extra credit you said?” he repeats, face contorting in one that’s trying desperately to focus.
you hum and nod.
“honestly, professor, i’ve been struggling,” you frown, making his brows twitch in sympathy, “it’s been such a big load lately, so big it’s hard to cope with. it’s so hard to fit into my schedule that i can’t help but cry trying to fit it all in.”
gojo swallows hard, his jaw briefly tightening as a charged silence stretches between you. his intense gaze locks onto you while you look down at your feet, a genuine expression of stress tugging at your pout.
when he doesn’t speak, you lift your eyes to him, curiosity prompting you to see what’s keeping him quiet. your gaze seems to pull him from his trance, and he blinks, startled back to the moment.
“i- um- i’m really,” he sighs, licking his lips briefly, “-sorry it’s been so hard for you, sweet girl.”
you can’t help but let your eyes flutter shut at the pet name, a rush of warmth flooding through you as you inhale sharply. instantly, you rub your eyes, pretending to fight back tears, determined to cover your reaction.
“i-it’s okay,” you murmur as you keep your face in your hands, making him sigh and walk around his desk to stand in front of you and lean back against it.
he reaches out and affectionately pats your head, prompting you to peek out from behind your hands and look up at him. slowly, you lower your hands to your sides, concealing the excitement bubbling inside you at his petting.
“we can figure out how to get you some easy extra credit so it’s a bit smoother for you, okay?” he coos softly, sympathy for his struggling student evident in his tone but it’s tinged with a deep raspy whisper.
“you should be having fun in college, going to parties and having fun with your friends, not crying over assignments.”
you hum softly in agreement with a nod, more aware of his prolonged touch against the top of your head and closeness of your bodies than whatever he’s saying about school.
“you’re right,” you huff, as if suddenly embarrassed of yourself, “i’ve never even been to my first college party or had the chance to find my first boyfriend.”
he takes a deep breath, exhaling just as fully as he clenches his teeth, causing rhythmic dimples to appear and vanish in his jaw before he finally pulls his hand away from your head.
“t-that’s nothing to be ashamed of,” he briefly scratches at the back of his neck before shoving his hands into his pockets as if to keep himself in check, “your.. firsts should be special.”
you can’t help but let a smile grow on your face before nodding with gleaming eyes up at him.
“well anyways, i’ll make sure to have a hand ready whenever you have a job for me,” you say, making him cough on his spit and quickly clear his throat to regain composure.
“right,” he nods with pinched brows, as if conflicted, “i’ll—uh— make sure to look for some assignments for you.”
“thank you,” you smile, gaze flickering down at his pants once again, face suddenly growing serious making gojo follow your eyes, “oh no, you have a stain on these.”
“oh,” gojo holds his hands out with a nervous chuckle as you sink down to your knees in front of him, “it’s no big deal, it’s fine. just got some— uh— mayonnaise on it from my sandwich.”
“no, no, these had to be more than a couple hundred dollars,” you glance up at him, brows raised, surprised by how unbothered he seems about ruining his expensive pants.
gojo gulps and shakes his head with shaky breaths, “i’ll just buy more— it’s really nothing you need to worry about.”
“i don’t mind, i actually have a little trick that’s been passed down in my family,” you explain with a smile, “it seems silly but it really works!— mayo you said?”
“yeah, mayo. but, seriously—” gojo cuts himself off with a sharp gasp, his eyes widening in shock, freezing with hands hovering in the air, as if unsure of where to settle them as you press your lips to the stain and start sucking on it. he can feel you even lap your tongue at it skillfully as your eyes flutter shut in concentration while occasionally tilting your head to find a better angle as if this were completely ordinary.
his eyes flick between the classroom door and you, your mouth pressed against his upper thigh— terrifyingly close to where his hard, throbbing dick is getting even harder with every suck of your pretty little mouth on his cum stain.
as if being slightly brought back to earth when the thought arises that someone could walk in, he tangles his hand into your hair and gently nudges you to stop with a ‘ah— ah no no no, wait,’ despite the way he can’t help but roll his eyes back softly. and even though the tug on your hair lacks any real conviction, you still do what he asks and pull back, licking your lips as you gaze up at him.
before he can even say anything, you gesture at the stain and he glances down to see that it’s now non existent, you sucked it all out, the thought making his dick pulse out a glob of pre into his boxers.
“all gone,” you smile up at him, acting unaware of his hand still tangled in your hair, “see? nice trick, right?”
he gulps as you stand, making him take his hand back awkwardly and shove them both into his pockets in attempt to cover his protruding dick. he can’t help but be thankful for that silly rumor going around about him now that he’s popping a very obvious boner, hoping that rumor is aiding to make it seem like maybe he’s just that big naturally while soft instead of being terribly hard right now.
“r-right— uh— thank you,” he nods, pursing his lips briefly as he grapples with what just happened. thanking you for sucking his cum out of his slacks without your knowledge of what you actually just ingested causes guilt but not as much as it sends blood to his cock.
you nod and smack your lips briefly with a laugh, “weird tasting mayo.”
he almost chokes on air at your words, making the apples of his cheeks flush pink, “o-oh, yeah i get the—um— vegan.. kind.”
you hum with a sweet smile, “it’s actually pretty tasty.”
and now he actually does choke on air, making him cough and curl into himself as he tries to catch his breath.
“professor? you okay?” you ask as you lay a comforting hand onto his back, unable to push away the amused smile on your expression now that he can’t see your face as he’s huddled over.
he finally catches his breath and exhales deeply before gulping and standing straight once again.
“yeah- yes,” he clears his throat, “you should probably get back to your dorm, it’s late.”
you glance back at the clock and then nod with a smile.
“oof— it is late. thanks again for being so willing to give me extra credit, i’ll see you in class tomorrow.”
you approach the exit with a growing smile before pulling the door open. holding it wide, you glance back at him over your shoulder, your expression warm.
“you’re definitely my favorite professor,” you compliment sweetly before turning back to the door.
he lets out a chuckle that doesn’t sound so genuine, prompting you to stifle a snicker as you walk through the door. you can't help but relish the thought that he has no idea you've been teasing him all along, believing himself to be the perv when, in reality, you've been subtly planting ideas in his mind since the moment you stepped into the room.
“have a good da— night,” he calls back, stuttering over his words, fully aware that you’ve already slipped out the door and likely out of earshot.
frustration and embarrassment he hasn’t felt since his highschool days washes over him as he drags his hands down his face, muttering at himself, “what the hell is wrong with you?”
he quickly winces at the realization that his hand likely still has remnants of cum on it and he snaps it away from his face with a grimace before gathering his things to go home. maybe he’ll call nanami to confess his sins, not that he’s a priest, but he would undoubtedly have an earful to say about it. it feels like he deserves some kind of punishment for allowing a student to unknowingly taste his cum.
you can’t help but clasp your hands over your beaming smile in disbelief and amusement as you pace out of the hallway, practically bursting to call nobara and share every detail of what just happened.
warnings: dub con ? (cursed speech), nsfw 🔞, virgin inumaki and reader, (inumaki is aged up to 19)
boyfriend!inumaki who accidentally groans ‘fuck’ as you guys makeout and before he can stop you, you’re already pulling his cock out of his boxers, slipping your loose shorts and panties to the side and sitting on it till the hilt before you snap out of your daze.
your eyes drop to examine your connection, and even though you seemed to have initiated it, you’re still taken aback by the sight. his cursed speech had never been used against you before and honestly it kind of scares you how powerful it is.
“y—you’re inside me—” you gasp out, shock and terror in your expression and tone. his hands fly to dig his fingers into your hips to keep you from moving as he grunts.
your eyes widen in tandem with his and you stare at each other with embarrassment and surprise. he then comically pulls out his phone with shaky hands and shows you a note saying ‘i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to’
whether you like it or not, inumaki has now taken your virginity and you’ve taken his. you had barely started getting comfortable enough to dry hump with him and now you can feel his leaking tip kissing your cervix. you’re quite lucky you had grown sufficiently wet making out before this because it doesn’t hurt as much as you thought it would.
“i—it’s okay,” you mumble briefly, aware that it’s not really his fault. you try to pull away from his pulsing cock with a flushed face but it feels as if an invisible barrier is holding you in place. honestly, you should just be thankful your body isn’t compelling you to bounce on him, despite his command of ‘fuck.’ you assume it’s because you’re a virgin, and your inexperience is somehow working in your favor, even though you obviously know what fucking entails.
“i- i can’t get off,” you whine in panic, gripping his shoulders like a vice as his lidded gaze flickers from your face, down at where he’s buried inside of your warm chasm with a wince.
panic rises to impossible heights as you hear someone walking in the hall past your room, likely another student. because you guys were only making out before, you had left the door to your room cracked open, your naive selves thinking it was quite risky and hot to do so. but now that his dick is inside of you, the hot risk has turned into a terrifying risk. yes, it’d be embarrassing and shameful if one of your peers walked in but god forbid a teacher did, you’d both probably be suspended or worse.
“t-toge, the door!” you whine at him, shakily and panicked. he seems just as scared because his wide gaze flickers at the door before gulping.
inumaki sets his phone down to the side and returns his shaky hands to grip your hips. he pulls desperately, attempting to help you get off but it’s like his strength has disappeared with his cock into your pussy because he can’t summon any power to pull you off for the life of him.
“get off,” he commands shakily, trying to help but instead, it does the opposite. your body feels as though its a doll with strings tied to it because now it chooses to use two fingers to start swiping harshly against your clit in that familiar way you do all alone. it seems his command was perceived as making yourself cum rather than getting off of his lap.
you immediately gasp in forced pleasure, forcing him to let out a groan as your pussy flutters around him. to play with your clit in front of your boyfriend of only a few weeks is terribly embarrassing and quite awkward for you but to toge? this is just about the hottest thing he’s ever seen. he can’t help but gawk and study the way you’re pleasuring your little bud, jumping at the opportunity to learn what you like. you know it’s not his fault but you can’t help but use your other hand to slap against his chest with irritation as your other refuses to relent.
“q- quit it!” you plead with panic, eerily aware of his gaze on your vulnerable clit.
“s-stop touching yourself,” he hesitantly commands at your request, making you deeply sigh in relief as your hands fly to grip his shoulders instead, leaving your poor clit alone. you don’t miss the way his cock twitches inside of you as he says those words, as if he’s aroused at the idea that he can force you to touch yourself or to stop whenever he likes.
honestly, his mind is reeling. he’s been desperately attempting to hold back filling your pussy with cum since you forced him in, he wouldn’t be able to think of a command to get you off of him efficiently right now even if he tried.
he does feel bad knowing it likely hurt you to take his seven inches in all at once, he and yuta often talk about the importance of foreplay for women, both desperately not wanting to be one of those guys who seem to be incapable of pleasing a woman. he also knows you’re anxious about the door as well, but he can’t help but feel giddy that he’s actually feeling your insides. after all, he’s the definition of a stereotypical nerdy virgin, desperate for any kind of stimulation from his sexy girlfriend. he’s never seen this expression on you before or any real woman, you look so shamefully aroused.
he’s fantasized about this moment for years, since you had become friends. though, he did imagine it to happen a bit differently, something with him eating you out until you’re nice and gushy and then easing his way inside before fucking you as long as he possibly could— but he’ll take what he can get.
“the door, the door,” you babble, redirecting his attention. you’re aware that he’s hesitant to give you another command, likely worried he might make things worse again like he did earlier when he accidentally made you touch yourself so the door takes priority over anything else. he nods at you with a gulp in preparation.
he then wraps his arms around your thighs and stands, making you both groan as the new position pushes his cock in even deeper. you take deep, shaky breaths in attempt to cope as he bites back the instinct to just start fucking you with hopeless abandon.
“g-go, toge, go.” you urge him, unintentionally moaning it out, making him clench his eyes shut briefly to focus before walking to the door and shutting it quickly. every step is like you’re being impaled, agonizingly euphorically.
you both breathe out in relief as he locks the door, but that relief is short lived because the next thing you know, he’s gently lying you on your back on the carpeted floor of your room as he places himself between your legs.
“o-kay—mhm— out, toge,” you breathe out, reminding him to pull out.
a long few moments of an unmoving toge deep inside of you with his head tilted down, eyes glued to where you’re connected makes your brows twitch in confusion. you almost believe he’s not going to pull out because of his pause.
little do you know, toge is at war with himself. part of him wants so badly to just say fuck it and fuck the idea of stopping right out of you, it’d be so easy. but the other, more logical part wants to take your feelings into consideration, aware that this is probably not how you wanted your first time together to be.
“t-toge?” you ask, tilting your head to the side a bit in attempt to see his face.
he seems to choose your feelings over his own at the sound of your shaky voice because he begins to slowly pull out, making you both moan together as you grip his shirt harshly.
when he finally withdraws from your weeping chasm, you get your first clear view of his pretty, blushing dick while he takes in the beautiful sight of your pussy. neither of you can help but stare. his leaking, glistening seven inches bobs just above your pussy and makes you bite your lip with a slow exhale.
“t-that was inside me?” you mutter in disbelief, his cock is just huge. part of you assumed he’d be on the smaller side, mostly because he literally calls you his omega and jokes that he howls at the moon but you couldn’t be more wrong.
he groans with clenched eyes, your praising words doing anything but assisting his self control. he pushes to lie on his back beside you, taking a large amount of effort to force himself off of you.
but before you can even sigh in relief at the feeling of no longer being stuffed to the brim, your body seems to act on its own once again. as he starts to slip his cock back into his pants, your body flies to straddle him and slip him fully inside again. it’s as if since the command hasn’t been called off or combatted with another, your body isnt able to stop until it is.
you whimper in a pathetic broken whine as you try to cope. but that’s nothing compared to what inumaki is feeling as your walls hug onto him, practically begging him to breed you.
he hisses and grips your hips again, unable to stop himself from bucking up into you in a singular harsh thrust, pulling a ‘ah!’ from your pretty lips.
“d-don’t do that!” you plead, whining. your adorable tone is absolutely not helping in toge’s attempt at forcing away the impending doom of cumming with scarce amounts of stimulation.
if he could talk without potentially hurting you, he’d repeat that he’s sorry like a broken record.
“fuck— we need to think of something,” you quickly breathe, attempting desperately to ignore the obvious as you rake your brain for ideas.
toge simply nods frantically, licking his lips as he eyes your pussy. he can’t think of anything but the blissful sight of your cute little clit twitching in distress.
“tell me to— ngh—” and before you can even complete your messy thought, he abruptly hisses harshly and loudly as if in a panic.
“move! move!” he groans at you in desperate warning of his imminent orgasm, nails digging into your hips as his begin to sporadically thrust up into you like he can’t control it. it feels as though he’s the one under compulsion because his hips just won’t stop humping up into you. it’s really not his fault, he tried to hold it back for as long as he could.
and unfortunately, ‘move’ does make you move— but not in the way he intended. you begin to grind your hips down on his jolting ones, unintentionally milking his cock of all of the cum he’s offering your pussy.
“are you—! cumming right now?” you gasp at the euphoric feeling of warmth shooting deep inside as his hard member bullies through your sensitive walls frantically.
you may as well be speaking to the wall because even though he hears you, the intensity of his high is just too euphoric to focus on your words. he’s not sure he would even choose to if he could because it’s just so embarrassing.
the sight of you fucking down on him as he desperately fucks up into you is anything but sexy, though inumaki would disagree. you both look like desperate, pathetic virgins who have no idea how to fuck, thrusts not lining up at all but still somehow working to help him ride his high.
“hahh— fuck! so good, you’re so good,” he babbles in such a pathetic tone that makes you moan back loudly with hands fisting his shirt. you really wish you didn’t have to, but you slap a hand over his mouth to silence him and prevent him from making things worse. while you can’t blame him for struggling to control his words at a time like this, the rare sound of your boyfriends sexy voice speaking normal words only brings you crashing down to your own climax
finding a solution is no longer on your minds; the intensity of real life sex is overwhelming. you anticipated it would be intense, but this feels beyond anything you could have imagined.
he groans beneath your palm, his brows pinched as his high slowly subsides, yet his ruts up into you remain relentless.
“i’m! i’m— i think— it’s—!” you stutter, hands flying to grip his hands on your hips, attempting to communicate that you’re right on the edge of your own orgasm. you don’t even need to say it, inumaki understands what you mean just from the way your grinding turns into a harsh bounce.
desperate to make you cum after embarrassing himself so badly, he uses two fingers to rub against your clit with zero technique and strategy. he’s trying to copy your moves earlier but he’s failing terribly, maybe he’d be able to do this efficiently if you weren’t bouncing frantically on his overstimulated cock.
it soon becomes clear that his inexperienced circles against your clit only work to rile you up more after a few minutes, seemingly making your orgasm stray away instead of pulling it closer.
you whine in frustration and he panics, eager to return the pleasure you gave him. despite the fact that you’re abusing his sensitive cock after he just came, his only concern is that he’s fortunately still hard enough for you to eventually find your release.
“p-please— wanna cum too!” you whimper, leaning down to lay a messy kiss against his lips, making his brows twitch in sympathy. the second an idea graces his mind, he halts his movements against your clit and instead tightens his hold on your hips to help you bounce. it’s impossible to hold back pathetic whines as he takes control of your moves.
“cum hard for me,” he coos, commanding you with urgency. and like clockwork, your vision blurs, your orgasm crashing down on you so hard that your back arches and you scream out his name for all of the dorms to hear just how good inumaki seems to be treating you.
“t-thank you— thank you— thank you—” you babble like an idiot, but he thinks you sound like a fucking angel.
he just about cums again at the sight of your twitching, jolting body mixed with the feeling of your pussy clenching on him harder than ever. though he’s a bit hurt he wasn’t able to make you cum without his cursed speech, he’s mostly just glad he was able to make you cum at all considering the situation at hand. he thinks it’s the least he could do for you.
after a few moments of your pussy squeezing him like a vice, it begins to clench in a pattern of sorts, like it’s your bodies built in way of assuring his cum will penetrate your uterus. he wants so badly to ask why that’s happening but he’ll have to wait to look it up later because the idea of typing that out makes his cheeks burn.
then, you collapse onto his body, slowly softening cock still snug inside of you as you gasp for air. he rubs your back soothingly as you tuck your head in his shoulder, basking in the afterglow together.
his phone must have landed near you because you hear him typing, making you sit up lazily to check.
he presents his phone to you with a blush, ‘i know that wasn’t ideal but that was really good for me. thank you and i’m sorry.”
and you can’t help but laugh, though you’re just as embarrassed, face burning as harshly as his is.
“it—it’s okay, you’re lucky i’m on birth control,” you sigh, wrapping your arms around his torso with relaxed closed eyes, more than unbothered that his soft dick is still nestled inside. it feels like you’re hugging him down there and up here, only adding to the intimacy.
“and it was good for me too,” you whisper seductively before nibbling on his neck.
you giggle when you hear him sigh deeply in relief and wrap his arms around you.
“you came awfully fast, toge,” you suddenly tease, making his face grimace in shame before he groans.
he wishes he could tease you back but he settles with pinching your waist playfully, causing you to squeak and jolt, making your hips jerk down on his sensitive cock. before you can even pray that he doesn’t react with an another command—
𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: Not only are you drunk on a Friday night, but you’re a drunk, closeted succubus who is, unfortunately, under the care of the hot neighbor under your roof! Would you ruin the mood if he found out about your little secret? You don’t even wanna know!
𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: Toji x afab/fem! succubus reader - explicit content; minors DNI - modern au! reader + Toji are neighbors - age difference; reader is in late-20s + Toji is mid/late 40s - crushing/mutual pining - drug/alcohol usage - fingering (f! receiving) - oral (f! + m! receiving) - clitoral play (swiping) - Daddy kink - sqǔitïng - anal play (m! receiving) - 69 + backshots + spooning + cowgirl positions - unprotected sex (psa: wrap it up, or get tf up) - creampies - praise kink - pet names (baby, doll, dollface, good girl, mama, princess, sweetie) - implied marathon sex - mention of drool/spit, tears, and cum - not proofread; will do l8r.
𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 7.8k
𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: pulled this story out of my ass; I literally spent a whole single DAY dedicating to writing it. please enjoy, and tysm for 11.9k loveliesss ☆ love and appreciate u all !!
“…shit.”
There’s no way.
“Shit, shit, shit, shit—”
Of all days for this to happen.
“Oh, my fucking God, not tonight!!”
Tonight was already an eventful night, with the full moon shining brighter than the stars. Life has put you so fast in a whirlwind that you can’t recall the last time you permitted your body to unwind. Can you blame yourself, though? From moving to a new neighborhood and scoring a new job, things have kept you undeniably busy for the past few months. And not too mention, it’s your fault for being a bit of a hermit and lacking a drive for social interaction.
That’s precisely why your old college besties – Shoko, Utahime, and Yuki – pulled you out of your hideyhole and encouraged you to join them this Friday night to have some fun! “C’mo~n, lighten up! No more thinking about work or whatever; have some fun!” “Yeah, y’know you’re my biggest drinking buddy. Now, hurry up and share this cocktail with me!” The ladies pressure you to relax and enjoy the start of the weekend with some good drinks and delicious food. And, you hate to admit, it worked like a charm – the longer the hours went, the more you felt free as if all the weight holding you down had been lifted.
The only problem is, like all good things, that it had to end and that you had to go home. Now check this out: 1) you left your car at home because, again, you were rigorously dragged out of your abode by your college companions. 2) You were all pretty much drunk, enough for neither one of you to drive on the road. And 3) you guys are in the city, and catching a lift is not only a gamble but SUPER expensive! Guess that’s what you get for choosing a Friday night to free-ball.
However, when hope was lost, and you wouldn’t be in the comfort of your bed tonight, you received a text on your phone, and you could practically hear the angels sing in the heavens above!
Recent Message from: Neighbor Fushiguro
Yo. You home? I’m out in the city picking up stuff for the house. Need anything?
Thank God for neighbors, am I right? The chances of someone you know being within the same vicinity of you may be low, but never zero! Did you feel bad that you texted back saying you needed a ride back to your house? Sure. Did you feel extra bad when you asked a huge favor for him to drop your friends off at the nearest hotel? …Yeah.
But luckily, he didn’t seem to mind. The only thing you had to endure was him teasing you about your little outing (with the help of your friends in the back of his truck) and your tipsy persona. “Never took you fr’ one who drinks.” He scoffs while putting you down on your couch after slinging you over his shoulder because you complained about your feet hurting. Damn heels! “Neither one who gets drunk.”
“It wasn’t my fauuu~lt,” you whine with a significant stretch while your neighbor roams around. “My fwiends, they forced me to–hic–to do it…”
“Mm, do your ‘fwiends’ always push you over to do things?” He shouts from the kitchen; you can hear cabinets opening and closing.
“When you’re the youngest of the group, they do.”
“Well, maybe I gotta get to know ‘em so they can push you into goin’ out more. And maybe you can quit avoidin’ me when I invite you over.”
“I don’t try to avoid you!” You sprout defensively. “And quit teasing me, Toji! You’re supposed’ta be on my side; I’m the victim here.”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever ya say.” Heavy footsteps draw nearer to where you are, and your heavy eyelids open to see a hand stretching towards you with a glass of water. “I’m here takin’ care of ya now, aren’t I, lil’ victim?”
A smile pulls your lips as you take the glass. “Thank you,” you express before a sip, and your neighbor lifts your feet to sit on the cushion beside you.
“Y’re welcome,” he places your legs on his lap, grabbing the remote to turn on the television.
You haven’t been in this neighborhood long enough to say you have friends. Don’t get it wrong; everyone you contacted has been lovely and friendly, and some have opted to help with your move! But aside from the casual greetings in the morning or the nods of acknowledgment, you barely know people who scratch the surface of acquaintanceship. Not to mention, it’s your fault for being a bit of a hermit.
…But, there is one neighbor you could say you’re pretty close with. Someone nice. Someone dependable…Someone attractive that you’re on a mission not to stare too much.
Toji Fushiguro lives two houses down from you across the street. Remember I mentioned you had people assist with your move? This widowed, middle-aged man was one of the nice handymen who aided you and your friends with your boxes and heavy furniture. You remember it like yesterday, seeing this brawny man stroll up your driveway on the sunniest day of June. You nearly mistook him for an Olympic athlete.
“So, y’re the one movin’ ‘round here?” The calm baritone of his voice was unforced. “Nice to know there’s a cute face on the newbie. Need any help?” It’s how he asked – so sultry and alluring you almost spaced out before nodding absentmindedly to his request for aid, hoping he didn’t notice you watch how the scar of his lip moved as he spoke. “Welcome to the neighb’rhood, kid.” Rarely do you have butterflies running amok in the pits of your guts, but they were challenging to deal with that day.
And it doesn’t get any better from that day forward. No matter how hard you wished not to run into this immediate crush of yours, he would somehow wheedle his way into your path. It started slow, exchanging hellos or good mornings whenever he left for work or you took the garbage out. Then came the “Want me to do y’r lawn fr’ ya?” or the “House down the street’s havin’ a little barbecue, wanna get to know people?” You thought moving away from the busy city life would die things down. However, Toji making your head race every chance he gets wasn’t a move you could envisage. Think about how you felt the day he asked for your number to keep in contact “fr’ emergencies…or if ya need anythin’, shoot me a call,” how your heart jumped to your throat! Oh, the girls never stopped teasing you when you told…
Nonetheless, you can’t deny how much help he’s been. Well, outside of that, just being a great neighbor all around. Besides being an absolute succor, he’s an outlet you can come to for anything. Whether for the house, the community, or just personal conversations, Toji’s someone you can admitlingly say you’d depend on. With trust built from day one, sharing pieces of yourselves to break down barriers, it’s safe to say that he is undoubtedly a friend who made your decision to move a worthy risk.
…Yet, what’s even more risky is being alone with him, something you do everything you can to avoid. Why? Look at him! Would you trust yourself to be anywhere with this man alone? Of course not! This is why tonight is the riskiest night you’ve ever bestowed upon your drunk self.
“You got somthin’ to say?”
“Huh?” You perk to reality, anxiousness filling you once you realize you had been staring at the man. “N-No, I’m sorry.”
He stifles a snort, grabbing your feet to massage them from the pain. “Oh, wanna act quiet. You were all bubbly in the passenger seat with y’re friends. Now y’re all shy because y’re stuck with me, huh?”
“T-That’s not true!” A lie; he was right on the mark. Your heart has been beating nonstop once he sat next to you. “It’s just that…I’m sorry for making you drive and pick me and the girls up.”
“Nah, don’t apologize,” his focus is on your feet as he kneads and rubs the sole of your foot. “Told ya I was around the area doing some shoppin’, so pickin’ ya up on my way back was easy.”
You take another sip of your water. “Shopping?”
“Mm, my kids are down here for the weekend, so I had to go out fr’ a bit and grab shit fr’ my daughter.” Ah, yes, Toji is a father; you remember him telling you about his two children in college, a junior and a sophomore. “They’re at the house right now; saw ‘em after I dropped stuff at the house before bringin’ ya home.”
You hum. “Sorry for stealin’ you from them for a bit.”
He shakes his head with a humorless laugh. “Please, they probably don’t even know I’m gone. They’re big kids. Plus,” your breath hitches when emerald eyes trail to you. “Now I get to finally have you all to myself, no curvin’ me and whatever this time.”
“I’m not tryin’ to curve…”
“Yeah, yeah.” He goes back to massaging your feet.
“…Thanks again, Toji. I really appreciate it.”
“No problem, sweetheart.” Your abdomen flexes at the use of the nickname. “You know I always got you…Say, did you hit y’r head somewhere?”
You blink, eyebrows furrow. “No? Why?”
He points to his temple. “Because I see like a lump right here.”
You mirror his movements, your hand touching the spot he’s pointing. And your fingertips meet with a lump on a location that sparks too much familiarity. You gasp aloud and cover the lump with your hand, the other covering your other temple.
Oh, no.
Black eyebrows knit together. “You okay?”
Play it cool! “Y-Yeah, yeah, I’m fine! You’re right; I probably hit my head somewhere while out.” You take this time to remove your legs off the comfort of Toji’s lap and stand up from the couch. “I’ll put something on it to stop the swelling.” You can also sense something aching down your lower back at that moment. Oh, hell no!!
“Ya sure? Need me fr’ any—“
BZZZZ!! BZZZZ!!
Toji’s cut off from the vibration of his phone in his jeans, pulling the device out to see that someone called “Megumi” was calling. Good, a distraction!
“N–No, no, I’m good from here.” You say through gritted teeth, the alcohol taking effect and making your stance a little buzzy to uphold. “J-Just stay here, I’ll be back!” You don’t even wait for his approval, turning on your heel and heading out of the living room to the stairs. Your body feels wobbly with every step you take, but you don’t pay it any mind because you can feel the lumps beneath your palms increasing. “God, please, not now, not today…!”
You march as fast as you can to your bedroom, nearly stumbling on the floor as you haul ass to your bathroom door. You do a terrible job watching your footing fall after rushing to turn the lights on, and stuff from the counter falls because of the impact. But you didn’t care, shuffling up so you could look at the mirror. And the sight you see fills you with immediate dread.
Horns are the first thing you see from either side of your head; the tips curl as if to form a crown but point to the ceiling. Your eyes are no longer human-like, pupils shaped like slits as if morphing into a reptile. And your ears get horizontally pointier. “…shit.”
You then lift your skirt and tear a hole in your pantyhose above the hem of your panties, and your fear quadruples at the sight of something long and slithery protruding out of the hole. A long tail with a pointy end; you lose your mind. “Shit, shit, shit, shit—”
It’s then you realize why this is happening: you had forgotten to take your daily supplements that are meant to subjugate these features of yourself. You’ve been taking them for the longest time before you moved into this neighborhood, so you’re used to your typical human facade. Now, seeing these parts of yourselves is the very LAST thing you need right now!
And then something hits you, an unsettling feeling that you’re too scared to confirm. Your eyes travel down to your shirt, your hands hesitantly pulling the bottom tucked into your skirt and lifting to reveal your navel. You then tug the top of your skirt to expose a spot you’re honed in on the mirror. And the urge to scream grows tenfold once you see a black marking on the lower part of your belly.
A womb tattoo!?!?
“Oh, my fucking God, not tonight!!”
“YO, HEY!” And just when it couldn’t get worse, you hear Toji coming up the stairs and beelining for your open bedroom door. Wait, no— “I heard screamin’ and a big ‘boom,’ you alright? Where are y—“
Your neighbor stops dead in his tracks once he appears in front of the bathroom opening; his concerned expression shifts to an immediate neutral deadpan. He stares at you, and you stare back at him, the silence so thick you could cut it with a knife. A ring fills your eardrums, dissociating from this entire scene and all its complications.
You want to cry. Maybe scream, throw up, or just straight up die on the spot.
Because this wasn’t the night for someone to find out you’re a succubus.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───
“…”
“…”
“…So, what are you?”
Not even concealing your face in your pillow can hide you from the eventual questions of Toji, who sits idly on the corner of your bed. You cringe internally, never thinking this dilemma would befall you. The point of moving was to turn a new page in your life and leave the past behind with the city. Now, you are shriveling on top of your bed like a moody teenager, and your neighborhood crush is here to witness your depression.
“…What happened to your phone call?”
“It was my kid. I told him to lock the door since I’ll be out a little longer. Don’t try and deflect,” his blunt answer has you descend further to your inner turmoil. “How come I never seen these horns before?”
You sigh heavily; there’s no point in trying to divert now. “…I take supplements that hinder any features of my succubus appearance so I can look like an average human for the rest of the day.”
“Daily?” He sees you nod through his peripheral. “Succubus…the hell’s that?”
“Basically, I’m a demon that…that…” Yeah, no, let’s not finish that. “Never mind.”
“Bullshit. Tell me.”
“D-Don’t worry about it, it’s not—“
“Look here,” he speaks to you with a stern tone, a hand coming to your waist to shove you a bit. “I went ahead and picked y’re drunk butt up, made sure ya don’t puke up a storm, and now y’re here looking way different from before. The least you could do is explain.”
God, to be lectured by a human – totally humiliating…! “…I’m a demon that gets energy from…se–….sexu, uhh………..sexualactivitywithhumanbeings.”
The silence that trails after your ramble is beyond awkward.
“Oh.”
…
“Oh.”
God, just kill me right now!
The older man forces a cough. “So, you…have sex every day?” You can practically sense the tiny hint of discomfort from prompting that question.
“W-Well, I used to when I was younger. But I haven’t really…done it in a couple of years.” Jesus Christ, why is it so embarrassing to admit to someone other than yourself? This is the literal worst!
“Is that bad?”
“It’s, uhh…It can be?”
“So, why haven’t you done it?”
“Because…!” You snap your face out of your pillow and finally allow yourself to breathe correctly. “I just…I don’t have time like I used to anymore, and using my powers to make people forget afterward can get tiring. Also, the more times I do it, the more my drive gets intense from the last. The desire of a succubus can be dangerous, you know? And since it’s been a while since I’ve let my powers out, I’m sure it’s nastier than ever…”
“…Well,” Toji turns to face you. “Have you ever had the urge recently?”
“I-” Woah. That question came out of nowhere, almost answering it without proper consideration. “Wh–What do you mean by that…”
He shrugs. “Like—you know what I mean—like, even though you try to suppress it, do you still have those urges to do…ya know, it?”
Things get a little uncomfortable here; now you wish you kept your face in that pillow. Tojo’s gaze on you is distinguished — gentle yet stern, matching his demeanor. He's calm and calculating and is waiting for your response to his strangely personal question.
“I…I, I don’t know.” It was another lie.
“Why’re you lyin’?”
“I’m not…!” Toji clicked his teeth with a face.
“Fine, answer me this then. Have ya ever thought of doin’ it since ya moved here?”
Yup, this question was far worse than the other. His words echo inside your noggin, bewildered with every syllable relaying. And the widowed man lifts his brow from the lack of an instantaneous answer. You open your mouth, but words fail to aid you, your tail shying away behind your shadow. “I-I…I don’t—“
“Ever thought of me?”
“Toji!” You shout defensively. Sure, it might’ve been out of line to ask. However, it’s the fact that he’s breaking your exterior with every question — because of how on-the-mark he is. You could never prepare yourself for that inquiry, the heat on your face growing more unbearable. How could he know of the frenzy he puts you through just for existing?
“I’m not dumb.” You peep Toji, turning his torso and facing his entire front in your direction. “You think I don’t notice how often you try to push me off when I invite ya over or know when y’re lookin’ at me when you think I’m not aware’?” He dents the bed with his added weight, and you forget to breathe, watching him inch closer. “Or act all shy and cute when I got you to myself?”
You gulp, your brain short-circuiting at the feeling of Toji’s palm on your thigh. There have been countless nights where you’ve thought of your neighbor more than once, indulging in fantasies you could never speak of to a soul, especially Toji himself. To let the man know of the dirty things you’d want him to say to you, the names you wish him to call you, the erotic things you’d like him to do to you — death is the only option necessary not to let that happen. Unfortunately, he seems to have a good idea now that he’s cornered you like this, and you’re too stunned to utter a word.
“It’s okay, though,” he whispers low now that he’s close to your face, and you have to hold back on letting out a yelp when his hand comes to hold your face, his index finger toying with your sensitive earlobe. “‘Cuz I love it when y’re all timid, can’t even look me in the face…Like now.”
You try to avert away from him, but his thumb brings your chin back to him. “Toji, please,” his name feels forbidden to say all of a sudden.
“Tell me ‘no’.” His nose brushes the tip of yours, and you chew your lip. “I’ll stop right now and leave, let you deal with this y’reself…Or,” he ghosts to your ear, and you quiver. “I’ll stay with you and treat you to what y’ve been scared to ask fr’.”
“Toji, wait,” Fuck, you can’t remember the last time you had your ears so keen, his breath brushing it enough to compel you to meltdown.
“Say ‘no,’ princess.” You’re locked under his forest-green orbs, and you swear you could hear your heart hammering your chest. “Or I’ll treat you right tonight.”
Perplexed eyes can’t move anywhere else, and your lips are wet from licking them without knowing. Is this really happening…? An inquisition you had no time to answer for yourself once Toji closes the gap, centimeters nearer with every millisecond.
I…can’t…
His face draws near, and your eyes reflex to close.
I don’t…want to…
Toji pulls you in for a gentle kiss; your thoughts radio silent after the contact of his scarred lips on yours. No shot. Your neighbor was kissing you right now — there’s no way!? This had to be a dream…! This is truly a wild night: not only are you tipsy to the noggin, but your neighborhood crush has found out your secret, and now you’re kissing that exact crush in your room?? Your muscles go tense at what is occurring.
He peppers your lips with kisses, forced to catch up with him as he claims your lips, a palm snaking to the back of your head to keep you steady. He licks your bottom lip, chewing gently to prompt the softest gasps out of your mouth. “C’mon, baby,” he coos to your sensitive ears. “Relax wit’ me.” You nearly melt at the lick of your helix as his free hand courses from your chest to your waist. The brush of his fingers onto your tail makes you jolt.
“Toji, wait,” you mutter under your breath as he nibbles on your pointy ear, your hands gripping the back of his black wife beater. “D-Don’t; I’m so sensi—Nmmm…!” Jesus, the moan you held back! Toji trails his mouth to your chin down to your neck to suck on your skin. And your lower half throbs harder. “Ahhh…hahhh…”
He returns his lips to yours; this time, his tongue runs on your teeth vigorously to seek entry. You submit after a chew to your bottom lip, whimpering as the older man inserts his wet muscle to greet yours. Surreal, isn’t it, to be tongued down by your neighbor? You don’t know whether it’s the alcohol, the twitches between your inner thighs, or the flick of his tongue and the sound of his purrs that have your face getting hotter.
And fuuuuuuck, he’s such a good kisser — scratch that, he’s an AMAZING kisser! You’re practically turning into putty in the palm of his hands as he lips you, tilting his head to a proper position with a soft push to your face as he deepens the kiss. He sucks on your tongue, and you mewl, helplessly quivering when he teases the muscle with nibbles. Your waist has a mind of its own while it sways involuntarily, rocking as you sink into the zealous kiss. He’s not overpowering you in any way; if anything, he’s so overwhelmingly comforting, his hand caressing your cheek tenderly, and soft noises of lips smacking and breaking apart bounce one after the other.
Then, you shrill unexpectedly. “…!! Mmahhh! T-Tojiii, d-don’t—don’t touch…Haahhh…”
“Oh? Well, lookie here.” Your ears perk at Toji’s chuckle. Unbeknownst to you, distracted by the intense kiss, your neighbor sneaks his hand under your skirt and touches your private zone shielded by your pantyhose, fingers pressing up on your vulva area. “All we did is kiss, and ya already got your panties wet?”
Embarrassed? Of course, it’s been so long since you were touched like this and out of practice. Now, your repressed emotions start to crumble out of their straightened form the more Toji’s middle finger rubs on your panties. And let’s not even mention your thighs motioning to ride on the digit, your dignity starting to disintegrate. “Ohhh, Toji…”
“Mmm? What is it, sweetie?” He nuzzles to your neck after licking and sucking on your chin. “Feelin’ good down there?” He curls his middle and forefinger to push. “Got ya all excited?” He receives a confirmed hum. “Tell me how y’re feelin’.”
You gulped thickly, your breathing shaking. “I-I’m feeling—shit…” he laughs lowly at your swearing. “Nnnm! You’re making me feel…so hot.”
“I can tell, you’re twitchin’ like crazy right on my fingertips.” His fingers move into a circular motion, and your mouth goes agape. “Fuck, man…Hey, hold on, I wanna do somethin’.”
Toji removes his fingers from under your skirt before you can tell, the heat between your legs going tepid as he withdraws from your figure to lay his back on the bed. But before that, he unzips and loosens his jeans to his butt. A noticeable tent of his boxer briefs has your lips locked to each other, and your eyes widen when he subtracts the material. Just when you thought this night couldn’t get any more crazier, you are awake to witness the display of Toji’s erection in real-time.
How long has it been since you’ve seen a real-life, living, and breathing dick before your eyes? You honestly can’t recall that; the responsibilities of human life have made you grow numb to your demon necessities that it no longer feels innate. However, the sight of your crush’s solid, girthy, excited cock is marveling. How your mouth waters as you ogle at it is borderline humiliating, eyes glued to the uncut tip.
“Like what ya see?” He asks smugly, kicking his jeans and briefs off and slapping his thigh. “C’mere, mama.” Oh, fuck, the quirk of your insides was unavoidable at his comment, primarily as he guides you closer to him. “Let’s warm up.” You yelp as he effortlessly moves your legs to where you straddle him. He pushes your skirt up to your waist, and you can hear the tear from your pantyhose. His thumb comes to slide your panties to the side, and he whistles. “Damn, lookin’ all pretty and wet fr’ me.”
It’s either the fact that Toj’s dick is inches in front of your face or your bare pussy out in the air in front of him; either one of the two has your mind going in a whirlwind. And it all comes to a standstill the moment you sense something wet and firm glide across your labia, and it takes everything in you not to tremble. “Mmm, oh, fuck,” he groans after licking your cunt, throwing in another lazy one to have you holler. “It’s been so long…Shit.”Toji’s hands curl from your legs to cup your asscheeks, keeping your butt near him to lap his tongue around your chasm. You whine as he licks you down, your teeth clattering at the sensation.
Oh, my God, your head begins to ache. It feels so good, your body finally coming back to the groove of things as you move your butt around. The man under you quickly latches his mouth onto you, a firm grip on your ass to keep you in place for him to service you. Speaking of service, your eyes flick to the erect limb before you, your mouth salivating with the run of your tongue across your teeth. Fuck, it looks so good; you admire internally before inching your face close to the length, your head getting dizzier from the sheer size and musk. Damnit…I wanna taste him so bad…!!
“Go on, dollface,” Toji gives your butt a playful smack. “I know ya need this bad.”
God, he’s so right — you need this; there’s no point in denying anymore. You blow on it before placing a tender kiss, noticing how it pulsates as your hand wrings around the shaft. You lick your lips before pecking at the uncircumcised tip, and Toji’s hold on you goes tighter. He’s sensitive, you note. Adorable. You stick your tongue out to swirl around the cockhead, bathing it with your saliva before you inhale it with a delighted hum, gradually warming up your loosened jaw.
Fuck, the taste of a cock — something that felt nostalgic the moment he graced your tastebuds. Your eyes water a bit, trembles rocking your figure as Toji sucks on your wetness, and every inch you intake fuels the haze that fogs your brain. You stroke and suck him simultaneously, a forgotten method that rekindles now in this moment. You coat him with your spit the more you relax your jaw, slurping him unapologetically as if a different part of yourself takes over.
On the other hand, Toji feels the same way. It’s been way too long for the widowed man since the last time he has been intimate with someone, let alone have a bare ass right in front of him. It’s no secret that he’s had the hots for you once you moved here, but having you on top of him like this is like something out of his wet dreams. The way you murmur cutely as you suck his dick turns him on so bad, a guilty pleasure come true as he drinks your nectar off your damp naked folds. His tongue teases around the entrance of your vagina before pushing it in, fucking your opening with his wet muscle. You cry on his girth, your tail cringing in the air from the stimulation. He spots it and grabs it from the base; how your lower half jolts to the grasp is humorously darling to him. So cute.
The minutes go longer as you two keep pleasing each other, and a soft whimper escapes your lips when you release Toji from your lips, lips plastering long and sweet kisses on his shaft as you massage the tip. Your other hand palms and kneads his ballsack, the jerk of his thighs rewarding to see, so you increase the pace of your hand.
“—Thhh, nmm!” Toji curses from behind, sluggishly licking from clit to your slit while succumbing to your touch and mouth. “Shiiit, just like that, baby, suck me off like t—Mmngh! Christ, I’m gonna..fffuckin’ cum…”
But then, you remove yourself from Toji’s member, the cold air instantly blanketing him. Green eyes blink as you move off of his lying body, observing you bending over with your face to the cold sheets.
“Toji,” you plea to him desperately, hooded eyes shining eagerly. “Please, I need it…Here,” you spread your ass, fully exposing your slit wet from your fluids mixed with his saliva. Jesus, you were heathing as if you were in heat. “Do it here, I need it inside…!”
You had the man shook; the cogs in his mind stopped working briefly. The picture of you presenting yourself like this to him was unexpected, but goddamn, did it turn him on astronomically! Toji stands on his knees and advances to you, removing his tank top and discarding it to the floor. “Yeah? You want it that bad?” You nod impetuously. “Words, sweetie. Need you to tell me what to do.”
“Toji, pleeease…!” You wiggle your ass until he cusps it, kneading your flesh lovingly to the point that your tail curls around his forearm. “Please, put it in, I wanna feel it…!”
“Yeah, is that what my princess wants?” You and Toji bite your lips when he aligns his tip to your inner labia, teasing you with grinding motions. “Does my demon baby want Daddy to mess y’r insides that bad?”
Oh, we’re playing that card, too? Holy shit, you were getting so wet from this! “Yess, Daddy, pleasee! Mess me up with that dick, wanna be filled up right nooww…!”
He can’t hide the proud grin. “Good girl. Here,” Toji begins to push the cockhead to you, and your lips flatten at the wince of pain that accompanies the push. “Stay still, and lemme reward you,” his hips move slowly in your direction, you grip the sheets to prepare yourself, and your nerves are dialed to a plane of exhilaration you can’t regulate. Oh my God, is this happening? He’s gonna fuck me? So many thoughts cloud your mind, too excited and anxious for what’s to come because it’s been so. Damm. Long. How’s it gonna feel? Is your body ready enough? How does Toji feel about this; is he just as nervous as you a—
Your train of thought is brought to an abrupt halt at the sensation of Toji’s tip finally inserting itself into your vagina, too absentminded that your open mouth couldn’t say a word. Oh, fuck it’s in, it’s in! Your eyes widen, your muscles tense, and your voice struggles to cry. The older man continues to add himself leisurely, the length sundering your slit and stretching your opening as you take him inch by inch. Your back arches instinctively, wailing silently as you can feel the foreign limb intruding your tightness, quick quirks of your frame as he rubs your velvety texture. Ohhhh, my God…!!
When he slowly starts to rut into you, recurring waves of rapture hit your nerves every. Single. Time! You’re entire body is rocked to the core with every short yet gentle pound; the feeling of Toji’s veiny cock scrapping your channel has you shivering. And once he’s encouraged to push his entire member until the very hilt, you yelp aloud when the tip kisses your womb. “—Oooh??!”
“—Mmngh!” Your quick spasm surprises Toji. “Ohhh, shit, there it is. Hmm? Is this where ya want me, mama? Want me right…here?” He snaps his hips swiftly, the rushed movement and hit to your cervix knocks you winded. And another, you keep wringing his shaft acutely. “Ahhn, God fucking damn i—Iisshhffuck, fuck, I can’t, gonna…Hnghh!”
Toji’s body shudders above you, bucking into your warmth with a jittery pattern. The prolonged reaction of his orgasm claims him now, succumbing to the silky, tight texture and how well you’re grasping onto his girth. He comes inside you, moaning as he ejaculates earlier than expected. You sense it, humming to the immediate filling. So warm, so full of his cock already that your toes curl.
And Jesus Christ, it felt so. Fucking, Good! You were no longer drunk from the alcohol; now, you were intoxicated by the prowess and pleasure of Toji’s dick.
“Hah, haaaah, fuck,” he throws his head back with a hiss, his abdomen relaxing from the earlier flex. Then, your tail glides up from his abs, feeling up on his skin and roaming on his happy trail. He snickers at your feline-like comportment, “Heh, actin’ all cute now that you got what ya wanted, huh?” You say nothing, bashful to his words, while your tail curls up to his chin. “Don’t go quiet on me now, dollface; I heard you squeaking and moanin’ seconds ago.”
Toji then returns to rut into you despite recovering from his climax, furled to have you shrieking uncontrollably for him. The smacks of his pelvis recoil the flesh of your ass, his come stuffed inside you now glued to his erection as he rocks into you balls-deep. “Mmmm, yeah, that’s right, baby,” he grabs your tail and wraps it around his hand to pull; you scream louder, and your vaginal walls clamp tighter than ever. “Arch more fr’ me, enjoy me—nmm…!—fuckin’ you real good.”
The pull of your tail makes your senses hypersensitive, perturbed by the stress of it being pulled, yet the enjoyment you feel from it is too inexorable to comprehend. Coherent sentences double down to undecipherable babbles, “—Daahh, hoohhfuuc—D-Daddyyy, Daddyyy…!!” Tears well up in your eyes as he inflicts blows to your ass, the pain too quick to prepare for yet the sting enough to make you rigid. “—Too much, ish t’oo muuuch…!”
Another smack to your butt, and you howl once again. “Huh, ya say that, but y’re milkin’ my cock like crazy.” He bends down to remove your hands that try to hide your face and horns with the pillow. “What, ya don’t like this? Hmm? Want me to stop?”
“No, nooo!!” You shook your head immediately; your vision blurred for a few seconds. “I loveee iit, I love this, love Daddy’s diick—Ahaaa!! More…I want moreee!” Fuck, this is bad; any more than this, and you’ll be addicted for sure.
“Good,” he whispers to your ears. Good Lord, you weren’t going to survive. “Because I ain’t done wit’ ya yet, princess.”
Before you can register his sentence fully, Toji straightens and lays on his side behind you, lifting your leg to create a suitable angle. He then plunges into you harder and faster, the different positions helping the sporadic cadence achieve deeper penetration while scraping your upper wall with ease. At this point, your body is too hot and sticky to care about anything else outside this room; your head pounding and too misty, your senses corrupted by the constant pokes to your cervix and the increasing haze that you don’t feel human anymore. Your succubus roots flourish, drool escapes your lips, and wanting nothing but this feeling to remain ceaseless.
“Gahh, ohhhDaddyyy, ahhahh,” eyes roll to your skull at the brush of your sweet spots. “Shhoo good, I fweel shoo gooood…! Harder, hardeeerr!”
“—Khhck, goin’ as hard as I fuckin’ can!!” Toji kisses your cheek after a lick, chewing on it after hearing you mewl submissively. “Jesus, this pussy, out of this fuckin’—Nnngh…world.”
You turn to him and claim his lips, and he reciprocates into your steamy kiss. Vulgar tongues exchange spit and encroach on each other’s mouth, and you helplessly suck on Toji’s after he shoves it, your puffy lips intaking the attractive noises he makes. And you slither a hand down to your clitoris to swipe erratically while your tail goes around Toji’s waist and curves into the crevice of his ass. Suddenly, Toji stiffens at the pointy end of your tail, tickling his anus, and the raven-haired man gasps at the insertion. Too stunned to speak, he can only move his hips rapidly, his white-ringed shaft digging deep into you with the help of stimulating his prostate.
“—Taahhh, y-you, lil’ minx…!” He breaks the kiss and bites your lip to hear you whimper. “Tryin’ ta make me cum again?”
You nod, breathing heavily. “Ohhh, Daddy, I’m so close…! Gonna come!”
“Me too, mama, me too…”
Hot moans and groans fly out of each other’s mouths, bodies stuck to each other as you both chase for release. Everything feels so fast, so hot, happening all at once; all you can think about is the grinding presses you push up on your delicate clit. Fuck, fuck! It’s coming, it’s coming…!”
Then, it arrives. Your cunt, aching for the climax, receives the crescendo you’ve been aching for this entire time. The walls of your vulva contract around Toji’s member, milking and wringing him as you come loose to your grounding. A clear liquid exerts out of your urethra, showering out to stain your panties, torn pantyhose, and bedsheets, your breathing losing its steadiness and falling to a jagged tempo. The same goes for Toji, who falls into his peak along with you; your fluttering folds force him to submit and release his second load into you with a hiss. The older man’s heaving frame keeps bucking into you until every drop fills you to the brim, burrowing his face deep into your neck to rest as the shocks rock you both.
Finally, everything goes quiet. The cozy atmosphere pulls you out of your heightened elevation and lays you down with silent clarity. Both you and Toji, sweaty and sticky all over, are still linked to each other as the high dissipates. Shuddering figures begin to calm down and fall at ease with the tranquility.
Toji kisses your neck, and you croon until he comes to lay his lips on yours for a tender peck, then on your soft cheek and your temple. He then removes his flaccid bulge, white fluids oozing out of your hole. “Damn, that was good,” he mutters breathlessly. “Hmm, how ya feel—“
The onyx-haired man couldn’t finish his question because of the sudden change of positions you abruptly conducted. He now lays on his back with you straddling him; the calm tone switched to an unexpected spiking mood.
You then hand grab his dick and arrange it back to your raised hips. Viridian orbs widen. Wait. The tip meets your labia once more before you descend it down. What the f—hold on— And then, his cock is swallowed back inside your wetness, and Toji grits his teeth.
“Sh-Shit, sweetie,” Toji’s hands come to your waist. “What’s up, aren’t y—“
“Sorry, Toji,” the man surveys with confusion, watching you strip off and throw your shirt somewhere. Your naked chest is now out for him to see, and his breath hitches when you place your hands on his pectorals while a span of bat-like wings springs out from your back. “…That wasn’t enough.”
Wasn’t enough?? He repeats with furrowed brows, noticing the half-lidded, lustful expression and the sharp dents of your canines. Then, it hits him:
“The desire of a succubus can be dangerous, you know? And since it’s been a while since I’ve let my powers out, I’m sure it’s nastier than ever…”
…Oh, shit. “Wait, we can talk about—“ You get your answer once you bounce on his cock without notice, Toji nearly choking on his tongue. Nope, no room for prattling.
“You let out so much, made my mind go so crazy,” you grind your hips on his pelvis, squeezing his limp cock while it gets firmer and firmer. “Feel so good…More, I want moreee…”
“C-C’mon now, baby, can’t we take a break for a minute at least—“You bring your face an inch away from his.
“Daddy,” your neighbor shudders at the gentle kiss you place under his chin. “Please take care of me like you promised, ‘kay?”
Your gaze lured him in, a trap he was foolish enough to fall for. Because now, he’s stuck under your bow as you begin to inflict an inescapable rhythm, rebounding on his erection until the base meets your folds. Choked groans suppressed by Toji, but take his lips with yours, enforcing a loving yet salacious spell with your satisfied moans. Now, your crush realizes you weren’t the meek, adorable neighbor he dotes on.
Tonight, he was yours to play like a fiddle…And shame on him for getting way more turned on than he should be!
Wow. Guess I’m dyin’ tonight.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───
I should be fuckin’ dead right now.
Toji knew something was up when his eyelids opened, and his emerald eyes scanned the ceiling, instantly recognizing that he wasn’t in his master bedroom. The rays of sunshine are blocked from the curtains, yet the light of day crawls in and basks the room in a low glow. Chirps of birds outside greet him on the basking of a new autumn day, lying comfortably in the cold, silky sheets of the bed.
He wakes to a bit of a headache, mentally and physically groggy. Attempts to move are already tricky and aches all over his body keep him grounded in the mattress. Ugh, feel like I’ve lost all feelin’ in my legs; the man can’t even lift one leg without a grimace. And even his arms are challenging, one so oddly heavy as if it’s nailed down.
“Fuck, man.” His first words of the day are a curse, irritated by the drum of his head. He tries to lift himself; again, it’s not possible, agitating the man even more. And why the fuck is my arm so hea—
He doesn’t finish his sentence — the answer reveals itself once he turns his head to the left.
He sees you, surprised to view you in your natural form still. Horns have grown a little larger, yet still small enough for you to rest your cheek on his shoulder. You were sound asleep, faint snores picked up by his ears as he examined your face at ease with a peaceful slumber. Nude, the both of you, a hand wrapped around his left arm to stick close to you while the other is stationed at his chest, your bat wings shriveled together to not get damaged. And judging by the snake-ish feeling, your tail was curled around his bare thigh.
Strangely innocent to see after the events of last night flash into Toji’s recollection, funny to match such a lewd scenario to such a sweet face. He stifles a laugh, placing his right hand on the vulnerable one on him, his thumb caressing your knuckles as he grasps your fingers. Suddenly, some of the soreness he harbors feels light — glad I ain’t dead, I guess.
Your eyes jit behind your eyelids, a soft groan as you suddenly move and scrunch your face. Finally, your drowsy eyes sheepishly flicker open. Lidded gaze fighting the spell of sleep with every bat of your eyes.
“Mornin’, gorgeous.” Toji greets you.
“…”
“…”
In real-time, Toji watches your somnolent morph into a gradual display of mortification. He’s a little envious to see you spring up with no strain on your body, wings batting out of their relaxed state, and your hand still with his. “T-Toji??” You question directly, eyes surveying the nude neighbor in your bed, doing everything in your power to ignore the fact that you’re naked as well. Speaking of, you notice the subtle pink glow of your womb tattoo, and anxiety spikes to a high. “I–uhh–I’m so so sorry for last night! Sorry you had to bring me back home, and I didn’t mean to act weirdly on you with—Ooof?!”
“Relax,” he cuts you off by pulling you back to his lying frame, his left hand now free to snake on your shoulder. “Don’t talk so fast; my head’s poundin’ like crazy.”
You blink aimlessly, awkward now that you’re fully aware you’re in this man’s embrace. You can’t help recalling what transpired last night, suddenly feeling squeamish. “…You okay?”
“I feel like my life’s been drained by my dick,” he answers bluntly, adding more weight to your embarrassment. “Wakin’ up to a pretty face who nearly killed me with their pussy isn’t somethin’ I’d expect.”
“……sorry.”
“It’s alright,” calloused fingers glide and intertwine with his yours, stroking your thumb with his. “Had a good time either way. Wild, but good.”
“Really…?”
“Really.” You probably shouldn’t have peered up to see him look your direction. Albeit exhausted, his handsome face and sleepy grin ignite the heat on your cheeks. And your stomach flips, hearing a laugh when you meekly avert your gaze away. “How many times did we do it?”
“…Not sure,” long enough for my womb tattoo to be blatant.
“Me either. Does that happen often?”
“Sometimes? I guess it’s because I haven’t done it for a long time, so I went…off the rails because of the intensity.”
“Noted, because I never felt so old until now. I probably pulled somethin’.”
“….Sorry.”
“Y’re good,” Toji scoffs before moving to place a soft kiss on your forehead, and your heart skips the tighter his hand holds your hand. “Tell ya what, I can help you with that cycle of yours, probably…twice a month, so it doesn’t get too crazy like last night. And don’t use y’re powers or some shit to make me forget, either. I don’t wan’ that.”
You lift your face from his shoulder, the heat spreading to your ears. “You don’t have to do that, Toji, I wouldn’t—“
“Nah, I’m down; it’s what neighbors for. Besides, it finally gives me a reason to make ya interact with me more.” Again, his smug smirk causes knots in your stomach. “Like the sound of that, mama? Let Daddy take care of you?”
Your lips quiver, and you hide your face back onto his shoulder. The rumble of his laughter worsens the butterflies in your stomach, and your tail squeezes on his thigh. “Don’t say it like that, Toji!”
warnings: unedited; angst; alcohol use; s-xual content; sukuna is an as-hole; minors do not interact.
by choosing to interact with this 18+ content, you have consented to viewing something n-fw despite the warnings.
please listen to 'mind games' by sickick.
{ there's another side that you don't know, you don't know | i can't wait to get you all alone, all alone | once i'm in, there ain't no letting go, letting go | watch me turn your mind into my home. }
that asshole boss of yours had piled on a bunch of new reports to sort through, making you late for the lunch date that you had with nanami.
when 12:45 hit, you had to send an apology text to nanami, telling your coworker that you didn't think you'd be able to join him at the cafe. being the sweet and understanding man that he was, he tells you not to worry about it, and maybe you'd be available next time.
you look down at your phone with a smile on your face. nanami kento was a good man, and you liked and respected him a lot. you had just recently began hanging out outside of work, and you could honestly see yourself building a future with him-
if only your heart could respond to nanami the same way it did to him.
not wishing to acknowledge your emotions, you quickly logout of your computer before grabbing your wallet and making a mad dash towards the elevator. if you could reach the cafeteria right now, then you'd have 10 minutes left for lunch, which was enough time to wolf down a sandwich and a drink.
with the elevator in sight, you were grateful that it opened immediately as you entered it. your fingertip was poised over the second floor when the sight of a large hands stops the metal doors from closing-
and you felt all of your appetite dissipate into thin air the moment your boss stepped into the elevator with you.
sukuna ryomen was a man who's presence you could not ignore even if you wanted to. pushing well past 6'5" in height, the ceo towers over you with ease, and when his rufescent eyes captures your wide-eyed expression, your swore his chuckle was enough to make your knees weak.
your heart was already pounding, with the elevator doors closing as it trapped the scent of his cologne within its metal confines. you could hear the way he hummed with approval, sending slight vibrations coursing through you as he says your name.
"you did well today, not a single report was filed out of place and you worked diligently with my schedule."
you reply with a stiff "thank you," not daring to look at him as you kept your gaze forward, counting down the numbers as it began its gradual descent towards your destination.
20...19...
before the numbers could flash the number 18, you saw sukuna from your periphery activate the emergency stop switch, stopping the elevator from moving as you let out a gasp.
"what the hell are you-"
you face him, feeling half livid yet more so lustful than anything as sukuna traps you against the wall. his surname falls from your lips in a flustered stutter, and because of how close he was to you, you were given the perfect view of his tailored suit and the way his broad chest was keeping you from looking away from him.
his slick back strands of pale red hair gave you the perfect view of his devastating features, ruby red eyes darkening as its gaze seemed to hypnotize you. you could feel the heat rushing to your cheeks, and nearly jolted back in response when the back of his achingly large hand sent a gentle caress against your cheek.
"because you worked so well, i believe my little pet deserves a reward..."
you were unable to respond when sukuna lifts up one of your legs, brushing past your skirt as his large fingers were felt shoving your panties to the side. you gasp, given no choice but to hang on to his bicep when you felt the pad of his middle finger collect the moisture that was settled between your legs.
you were trembling now, already physically aching for him when you felt his finger push past your slickness before exploring your gummy walls. the embarrassment you felt was nothing compared to the growing flame sukuna was giving you, the squelching sounds he was making as he shamelessly thrusts his finger in and out of your core.
"damn, you're practically sucking me in..." sukuna hisses in your ear, forcing you back against the elevator walls as you unconsciously spread your legs even wider for him.
your release was quickly approaching, and when he was able to press down against that swollen bundle of nerves was when you lost all control. with a broken moan of his name, you felt your walls tightening around his large finger before soaking it with your release.
by now, you were a trembling mess, gazing up at him with a drunk expression. your breathing was labored, like you had just finished running a marathon while sukuna gave you the same smug expression.
as he removes his finger away from your folds, you could see how shiny you had made it, watching it glisten from beneath the light for a brief second before sukuna opens his mouth and licks it away.
a groan was heard once more, and you felt his body shiver at the mere taste of you. "fuck, you taste s' sweet. and 's much as i want to devour you, i have a meeting to attend to."
acting as if he had not just given you the best orgasm of your life, sukuna straightens himself while letting go of your leg. you momentarily lose your balance, landing against him as a deep chuckle was heard coming from him. he pushes another button, bringing the elevator back to life as it begins its descent once more.
when the elevator doors open, you felt sukuna nudging at your back, signaling that it was your stop. with shaky legs, you come out of the elevator and meet his gaze.
you watch as his face breaks out into a malicious grin, sending your heart into overdrive as the elevator doors shut once more, leaving your mind reeling from the events that had just transpired.
{ ... }
to say your mind was preoccupied with nothing but thoughts of sukuna would be the understatement of the century.
you had returned to your desk not too long ago, your mind still replaying that delicious scene in your head as your damp panties served as a reminder of what sukuna had done to you.
fighting back the heat that was threatening to dye your skin, you take careful bites of the granola bar you had bought at the cafe with tiny sips of your water. your appetite was still nonexistent, and you found yourself wondering just what you were to sukuna.
you had worked under him and his company for roughly 2 years now, and it was sad to say that your feelings for him hadn't changed in the slightest. when you interviewed for the position of being his secretary, you recall being struck at the mere sight of him. he was by far the most beautiful man you had ever laid your eyes on, and the crush you once had for him seemed to morph into something more.
yet, deep down, you knew that if you were to ever to act on your feelings for him, then you were the one who was going to get burned.
so you kept your distance, remaining ever so professional with sukuna as you held back your feelings for him. during the time, you would go on random dates here and there with other men, yet none of them ever amounted to anything true and meaningful.
but this- this was something completely different. for once in your 2 years of working for him, this was the one time he had shown such an interest in you. you hadn't the slightest clue why he did what he did-
and yet, you found yourself not caring either way.
it was completely stupid for your to say, but you truly didn't mind just having a physical relationship with him, even if the times he would hold you in his arms would forever be ephemeral and fleeting.
as you were wallowing in your misery, you jump slightly upon hearing your text tone. you unlock your screen to see that nanami had texted you.
[ hey, it's okay if we missed lunch together. how about i make it up to you with dinner tonight at 8? ]
your thumbs were already poised over the keypad, ready to turn down his offer for dinner because deep down, you did not wish to lead a good man like nanami on. you knew that your heart would never sing for him like it did for sukuna, and the events that transpired between you and him was more than enough proof of that.
while opening his text, in that exact moment sukuna was seen walking in. you could hear his laughter echoing throughout the floor as you lifted your gaze to see a gorgeous woman with prominent ebony curls and an hourglass figure clinging to his arm.
you could feel your heart breaking into a million pieces, watching as the dark haired beauty kisses down his jawline. sukuna meets with your gaze and flashes you yet another smirk before replacing it with a stern expression.
"block out 3 hours from my schedule and do not accept any calls for meetings at this time. i'll assume that someone as competent and capable as you should be able to do this?"
"absolutely, sir." was your stiff reply, willing your features to remain neutral as sukuna disappears with the beauty into his office.
how you survived the next couple of hours was beyond even your own comprehension. not even ten minutes had passed when you could hear the woman's laughter quickly morphing into a drawn out moan, coupled along with sukuna's occasional grunts.
fighting back your tears, you open nanami's texts and give him your answer.
[ dinner at 8 sounds great. do i need to go home and change or anything? ]
[ not at all. i'll see you later and we'll enjoy some time together. ]
you refused to acknowledge the sharp pain in your heart, alerting you on how wrong it was to even think about using nanami as a band-aid for your pain, yet once you heard the woman cry out to sukuna, begging him to go harder, you lost all reasoning.
all you wanted to do was forget.
{ ... }
it was like he was playing games with you, and you weren't sure what to do or even how to respond.
this went on for the next several months, with sukuna finding a new woman to keep him company during the later hours of the working day. every time, before he would disappear into the confines of his office, he would flash you another smug expression, as if he wanted you to listen to him and his current conquests.
your heart would ache each time, yet despite it all, you still held on to each and every one of his expressions he sends you.
ever since that time in the elevator, sukuna had ceased touching you. and the memory of it was enough to drive you insane. each time sukuna invited a new woman into his office, you would inevitably run into nanami's arms.
even when you had come clean to nanami, explaining to him how you did not deserve him; that you were simply basking in his company to assuage the pain you felt each time sukuna bedded a new woman, nanami admitted that he didn't mind waiting for you.
he would simply take you in his arms, allowing his hands to run across your hair while comforting you. "it's alright. you have become immensely dear to me, and i'll wait for you."
when you asked him what he would do if you could never return his feelings, nanami simply gives you a tiny smile. "then i'll simply pray that the bastard returns your feelings for your sake. until then, you can always come to me, okay?"
you recall hugging him while letting out a tearful laugh, embracing him while admitting, "i really wished i could have fallen in love with you instead."
nanami simply laughs, returning your hug as he presses a gentle kiss against your cheek while answering, "me too."
{ ... }
the moment you walked into your office, the whole workplace was ablaze with gossip, and you caught some tidbits here and there.
"i can't believe mr. ryomen is going to get married."
"i mean, it's to be expected. that woman is pretty much the heiress of the pharmaceutical company he wants to merge with."
your breathing suddenly becomes labored, and you take shaky steps towards your coworkers and ask them what they were talking about. haruka gives you a wide grin and shows you her phone's screen.
"see! it's true! the reason why the big man himself isn't here is most likely because he's going to make an announcement about his engagement!"
the blood was felt rushing to your ears, and all you could see was the bolded headlines that read:
arisa towryk of towryk pharmaceuticals confirms her future engagement to sukuna ryomen!
you take a shaky step backwards, making some excuse about how you weren't feeling well and if your coworkers could tell h.r. about your sudden departure. haruka gives you a confused expression, but simply nods and agrees to your sudden request. giving her a clipped 'thanks,' you immediately rush out of the building.
the sounds of your high heels rapidly tapping against the marble floors of the lobby echoes throughout the area, and you had to cover your face as you allowed the tears to stream down your face. broken sobs were heard becoming ripped from your throat, yet the pain you felt was unbearable.
you needed to do something- anything to numb the pain-
you wanted to do something that would help you forget all about sukuna-
even if it was only for a brief moment.
{ ... }
being fueled by your heartache, your feet takes you to a nearby bar just a few blocks away from where you worked. you settle yourself against one of the barstools while tossing your bag beside you. the bartender gives you a mild expression of concern, already getting a glass for you.
"you had a rough day, lady?"
you shake your head, refusing to answer him while taking out your card, "give me the strongest drink that you own, and keep them coming."
the bartender shrugs while taking your card, already filling up three glasses with an amber liquid. he settles the shot glasses in front of you, and you take down all three drinks within seconds. relishing in the burn you felt as it slid down your throat.
you lost track of time, taking shot after shot after shot of the same amber liquid, willing your mind to go blank as the world became a bit more tilted. when the alcohol was beginning to make you sick, the bartender had stopped serving you drinks, actually showing concern for you as he slid your card back to you.
"listen, lady, i think you had enough. you need to go home and get some rest."
his words sounded muffled, like you were hearing him from underwater. incoherent words were felt spilling from your lips, and you couldn't stop yourself from crying.
this was a mess.
you were a mess.
with shaky fingers, you tried to keep yourself together, opening your phone as you searched for nanami's number.
"do you need me to call a ride home for you?"
you shake your head and call the one man you knew you could count on, and felt so grateful when he picked up on the second ring.
you hear him call out your name in a panicked voice, "are you alright? where are you? i got so worried when everyone was telling me you went home...!"
"k-ken, i need your help. don't feel so good at all..." in your drunken state, you manage to tell nanami the name of the bar you were residing in.
"i'll be there in ten minutes, just hang on tight and wait for me."
you allow the tears to fall, sliding the phone away from you as you hid your head within the crook of your arm. your head was pounding, and you felt so dizzy all of a sudden.
throughout it all, you could hear the bartender asking if you were okay, if you needed help going home again, but you found yourself being unable to answer him. luckily, it didn't take nanami that long to arrive as you could hear the familiarity of his comforting voice right beside.
"it's going to be alright, i'm here, i'm here."
wish i could love you, i really wanted to love you.
"i know."
you weren't sure if those were your thoughts, or whether you had said them out loud, but you didn't care.
i still love him.
the sensation of arms tightening around you was felt, and you were close to falling when nanami helped with steadying you.
"i know that, too. now come on, i'll take you home."
your mind was still blurry, but you couldn't deny how refreshing it felt to feel the cold night air against your skin. you take in a deep breath, ready to go home when nanami suddenly stops in his tracks.
your drunken mind had failed to notice someone blocking nanami's way. you could hear the anger in his voice, yet all you could see was the person's jet black dress shoes directly below you. the nausea you were trying to hold back ends up failing, and you end up letting out a great heave, expelling all of the contents of alcohol from your stomach.
because you hadn't eaten a single meal and spent the next several hours drinking your sorrows away, you allowed your body to purge itself of the alcohol that was circulating within you. when you were sure that you were emptied, you felt your consciousness slowly slipping away from you.
a panicked voice was crying out to you, yet you were already out the moment a pair of powerful arms had carried you away, allowing the darkness to overtake you.
{ ... }
the headache you were feeling was intense, but you were dimly aware of being in a car as your form was strapped onto the passenger seat. believing that it was nanami that was driving you home, you apologize to him.
"i'm sorry for puking on you."
"it's fine."
strange...the voice sounded a lot deeper than nanami's. it had a hoarser, and more raw quality to it. believing that it was just the drunken state of your mind, you sigh and decided to be honest with the man that had become your sole confidant through it all.
"it was stupid of me...drinkin' so much. but...i was hurt, you know?"
you clench your eyes shut, recalling the pain you felt upon reading about sukuna's engagement. "i worked with that asshole for two years, and my stupid heart still loved him, even when i knew deep down he would never give me the time of day."
"but when...when he...touched me, literally invaded the entirety of my mind, i thought he actually felt something for me."
you shake your head, allowing the tears to fall once more as you cry out, "but i was so stupid; all he saw in me was something to play with, another plaything like all the women he's invited to his office right in front of my face."
in the midst of your rant, you realized that nanami hadn't said a single word, making you open your eyes. "nanami, why aren't you-"
"do you love him after all?"
with the tiniest bit of clarity returning to your senses, you really took the chance to look at him, only now realizing that it was sukuna who was settled at the driver's seat. the car had stopped moving several minutes ago, yet he remained silent, listening to each and every word you had said.
your heart was pounding now, feeling mortified at the realization that you had confessed everything to the one man that had broken your heart. he says nothing, simply meeting your gaze before exiting his car.
by now, you were unsure of what to do. before you were given a chance to act, sukuna opens the passenger door and releases you from the seatbelt. he remains silent, reaching over to you as he picked you up and held you in his arms.
you could see the view of his gorgeous mansion as various lights lit the way to his entrance. the alcohol was out of your system as you slowly began to sober up, the pulsing ache within your head turning dull as sukuna entered his home with you still in his embrace.
he heads towards his bedroom, walking into the master bathroom before settling your trembling form against the floor. sukuna was still silent as he strips himself of his ruined shoes and suit, not stopping until he was completely bare for your eyes to feast upon.
you tried to ignore the familiar heat against your cheeks, looking away from him only to be stopped by sukuna's hand settled on your chin. his smirk was prominent, but it seemed less harsh now, as if softened by that expression seen in his rufescent eyes that you had never seen before.
he places his large hands over your clothes and slowly begins to strip them away from you. still feeling your emotions running high for him, you allow him to undress you until you were just as bare as him. he takes your hand and leads him towards the glass shower, allowing you to stand beneath the spray first.
you moan upon feeling the hot water hitting at your skin, washing away the bitter taste that was left in your mouth. with a grunt, sukuna takes a bit of shampoo and washes your hair, allowing your back to meet with his broad chest.
while he was thoroughly washing you, you could feel his chapped lips running against the expanse of your skin. from your shoulder to the curve of your neck, you tremble at the sensation while letting out a soft moan.
the sound was enough to make something deep within sukuna snap as he calls out your name. you were uncertain as to how it happened, but one moment, you were simply standing beneath the shower spray, washing off the last bit of shampoo from your locks of hair-
and in the next moment, you were pressed against the damp shower walls with sukuna kneeling before you. he takes a hold of both of your legs, allowing them to settle against his broad shoulders as he presses a kiss against your inner thighs, as if silently apologizing to you in his own way.
without wasting another second, sukuna dives into your slick flower, allowing his tongue to run up and down your folds as your hands automatically went to his hair. with the water cascading down on him, you felt yourself losing all resistance to him as the droplets ran down his gorgeously sculpted body.
if you thought his fingers worked absolute magic on you, then you were immediately sent to heaven when you could feel sukuna's tongue reaching deep inside of you. the pleasure you felt was red-hot and all-consuming, turning your mind blank as you arched your back against the slick shower walls.
"s-sukuna!" your release came even faster than before, perhaps due to the fact that you had been yearning for him this whole time. the moment you spilled your sweetness into his mouth, sukuna took the time to lap up all you had to offer with a guttural groan.
when sukuna was sure he had swallowed all evidence of your release was when he stood back to his full height. he shuts off the shower and takes you in his arms, making you moan when you felt his erection brushing up against your thighs.
"fuck, i didn't know how much i missed the taste of you..." he admits with a grunt while throwing you over his shoulder. neither of you seemed to mind how the water was dripping from both of your forms as sukuna tossed you against the edge of his king-sized bed.
you land against the plush mattress with a bounce, with sukuna settling himself between your legs as he worked on stroking himself to full hardness. his eyes were completely dilated, darkened with lust and what you realized was complete adoration for you before pushing himself into you.
you cry out and arch your body once more against his bed, feeling your slickness take him inch by inch, the sensation of it all taking your breath away until sukuna was buried to the hilt inside of you. you could feel his large hand touching at the slight bulge seen within your abdomen, letting out a dark chuckle before he began moving in and out of you.
he slides himself almost completely out of you before slamming his hips back in, making you cry out even more as all you could think of was the addicting feeling of his cock buried deep within you. he does not cease his movement, choosing instead to lean down as he fucked you into his bed.
"i thought about you deservin' more, you know?" he completes his statement with another powerful thrust, making you let out a choked moan in response. "i thought that bastard kento could be a good husband for you and do all that shit a good husband would do for a good woman like you-"
his pace turns faster now, becoming more relentless as he lets out a dark laugh, "but thinking about another man touching you drove me to the brink of insanity. i remember hearing you talk about going to lunch with that bastard, and i knew i had to stop you or else my jealousy would have killed him."
he groans before taking a hold of one of your legs, standing up as he tosses your leg over his shoulder while continuing his quick pounds inside of you. "yeah, i know i was hurtin' you, but i wanted to control you- play mind games with you so that you couldn't think of any other man but me."
sukuna's thrusts had become so prominent that his movements were enough to make your breasts bounce in response. "all those women you heard me fuckin' was a way to get you out of my head. each time i buried myself in them, i was thinkin' of you."
"oh, and that engagement? that's not happening. arisa is just a brat that wants to own everything she knows she can't have. i only have a partnership with her father and his company."
upon hearing his confession followed along with another thrust angled just right, you let out a moan, managing to lift you hands as you raked your nails down his chest in response. "you're a fucking bastard, you know that?"
"yeah?" sukuna lets out another chuckle while giving you a smug expression, kissing at your ankle as he kept on impaling his cock deep inside of you. "but i know you wouldn't want me any other way."
he was breathing heavily now, and you could feel him growing inside of you before he allows his large hands to play with your hardened bud, "come for me, be a good little dove and come for me."
as if your body was attuned to his voice, you felt an intense wave washing over you, making you see stars as your release was felt consuming you whole. with another grunt, sukuna leans down to capture your lips in a searing kiss, swallowing your moans as you felt him twitch inside of you, painting your walls white with his seed.
your body felt so light, and the pleasure was certainly not helping with the sudden exhaustion you now felt. you were completely content, body turning slack when sukuna pulls out of you with a grunt.
you let out a mewl when he picks you up and settles your body on top of his bed, allowing him to settle between your leg as he laps up the evidence of your respective release. a soft sound of protest escapes from your lips, yet sukuna continues to clean your sensitive core, not stopping until he was satisfied.
when he was finished with cleaning you, he takes you in his arms with a grunt and places you on his chest. you were close to falling asleep, but managed to catch his whispered words-
"you belong to no one else but me."
{ watch me turn your mind into my home | mind - mind games until you lose control... until you lose control. }
all stories are written by rei; reposts, translations, and plagiarism are not allowed.
I saw this post on TikTok of this guy saying he loves 1980’s Hong Kong style wedding photos. Couples would have a pre-wedding shoot are photos taken of the bride and groom before the wedding wearing their wedding clothes or wedding clothes. The themes usually follow the night of the wedding or following the wedding. Here are some pre-wedding photos I think they would take.
Gojo Satoru
From the passionate kiss with his hand sliding up your thigh to the ones of you two joint and laughing, scream Gojo to me. The middle is when you snatched his glasses and put them on. The photographer captured intimate moments of you two kissing and laughing at his jokes.
Geto Suguru
Similar to Gojo, Suguru is playful during his wedding photo shoot. The photographer captures photos of the two of you being playful yet posing in a relaxed and intimate manner. I can totally see him smoking at least once. The last photo is of you two running away from Jujutsu Tech after defecting.
Nanami Kento
Unlike these two clown above, Nanami takes a serious and sensual approach for the photos with you. The first photo is your idea. You always tease Nanami about reading the newspaper like an old man, so you decided to incorporate into your wedding shoot. The second photo took you by surprise. When the photographer said that he will be taking pics of you both further away, you were not expecting Nanami to kiss amongst a crowd of people. It’s your favorite photo out of all of them. The photographer referred to the photos as refined and romantic.
I don’t own these photos. I got them from Pinterest.
snowghoul
titsay
yousharknotpass
