I followed because I'm obsessed with TFC Jester's cockwarming fic and would love a part two! Take you're time but I also love all your other writing it's so good!
Thank youuuuu 💗💗💗💗💗 Here it comes !
art by @mokitobear @konknonbi
Jester x F!reader x Pierrot (yeah, i know. Pierrot in a Love Triangle with someone ELSE than Harley?? Shocking)
TW: Pierrot focused chapter, wallowing, You are so over Jester (You are so not over him), You are not 100% innocent in this equation, Pierrot is a puppy for you yet surprisingly emotionnaly mature, mating/mate system, angst(?), you can smell the drama from a mile away
[Part 1🔞]
"Who gave you these marks, my Lady?" Pierrot asks, pressing himself to your back as you comb your hair.
You frown and look better into the mirror, pulling on your collar.
Fuck, is that…? Did Jester bite you so hard it left a mark?
What a…!
Pierrot circles your shoulders, leaning forward to look at each other through the mirror.
"Who?" He asks again, his tone slightly less innocent.
More impatient.
More on edge.
"No one we need to worry about." You sigh to yourself.
When you said you'd like to be claimed by Jester's bite, you did not think he'd bite so hard it would leave scars behind. What are you looking like now? You can't wear that cute top for your shift at the cafe now!
"It's not important." You grouse, mad again at the purple clown.
"I beg to differ. This is…" He starts before pausing, "Do you know what those marks mean?" He asks with a raised eyebrow like he had a doubt.
"A spoiled night of fun with a cunt. That's all." You almost slam your comb on your dressing table," What else do you want it to mean?"
Pierrot considers you in silence for a moment, gauging your reaction, licking his teeth behind his closed lips.
"Do those scars have a meaning?" You ask, suspicious now, "Should I be worried?"
Did Jester pulled a trick on you?
Pierrot finally smiles with amorous eyes.
"It simply means I need to have a discussion with the 'cunt' in question." He coos.
Huh ho.
For the first time you realize you made a mistake for more than yourself. That stupid night could have more consequences than a broken heart and shattered hopes. You don't think Jester would fight for you, obviously, but he would be forced to protect himself if Pierrot came after him…
But would Pierrot go after Jester? His Leader? His big brother?
You're not sure you want to take that risk, to be honest.
"Was it Harlequin?" He asks lowly, his golden gaze veiled with anger through the mirror.
"…Yes. It was Harlequin." You lie, but quickly had, "But it is Harlequin's style you know? To hit it and flee right after." You bitterly laugh, "I knew what I was going into with him. I just didn't like how he shooed me out, you know?"
"Do I?"
"He pushed me out without any care, like an idiot. It's Harlequin like we all know and love. I'm over it now, it's in the past."
"Sure." He hums, "I'll just discuss with him about certain… Boundaries." He parts from you to head to your balcony, opening the bay window
"Pierrot." You call him back sternly, "You won't do that. It's done, it's over. It was a one night stand, that's all. Don't waste your breath for that." You order, before relaxing your expression, "Okay, Pierrot?" You smile at him.
He looks at you, half turned toward you and half turned toward the window, irritation and contradiction on his expression. He is clearly questioning if he should listen to you.
"Pierrot." You insist, "It's not worth it."
Pierrot and Harlequin fighting and bickering is far less suspicious than Pierrot and Jester, but you can't have the red clown go after the green one for a lie. That would blew out your cover.
And Harlequin doesn't deserve to bare your mistake with the Jester. That's unfair.
You'll tell the truth to Pierrot, eventually.
Eventually…
Later. You will tell him later.
You see emotions fly on his face before it settles for mild-annoyance. If his Lady's orders him, what can he do?
"Fine." He grumbles, before turning his heels fully toward you to come back to you.
He leans forward again, kisses you cheek gently and flees the scene blushing.
You fixate the bay window where he just went trough, before facing yourself in your mirror.
You're a bitch, girl. A real one…
You sigh, resting your head on the cold wood.
"What am I even doing…?"
You'll need to speak to Ticket Taker too…
______
You arrive at the circus after your shift at the cafe tired out and tense. You actually have no clue what you will do if you cross paths with Jester. He, he would probably regally ignore you, but will you be able to give him the same attitude? Or will you explode in tears and anger at his face?
You sigh, holding on to your purse. You're in a mess. A real, deep mess.
You almost hit into a man but you snap out of it just in time.
"Oh…! Bil…"
"It is Ticket Taker to you, visitor. Do you have a ticket?"
You refrain from giving him an attitude, he must be disappointed enough in Jester and you for the other night.
Good question, do you have a ticket? Pierrot must have left one in your purse, for sure.
Yes. He did.
"A red one again? Interesting." The topper monster looks at it without moving, his hands clasped behind his back.
"Why?" You frown at him, stressing bullet.
"I expected a different color." He contemptibly answers.
Wonderful… You have to deal with Jester, Pierrot and Ticket Taker then.
"Yeah, about that, plea-"
"I do not intend to say anything, visitor." He cuts you, stamping your ticket.
"Why?" You can't help but ask.
"I do not want to embarrass Jester more than he already feels."
Yeah… Logical answer for them. You're not surprised, and too weary to be mad at this response.
"I see…" You readjust your purse on your shoulder, "Thank you… For whatever my gratitude is worth to you."
"I do not do it for you, visitor." He straightens his posture, looking down on you from his height, "Keep your distance with the Jester, or I will feel forced to act in his best interest."
You gulp, your hand gripping the strap of your bag tight.
"Dutifully noted… Can I pass?"
He theatrically steps aside, gesturing to the wide entrance with a false plastic smile.
"Welcome, Visitor. May your stay be a wonderful illusion."
You nod weakly, walking away quickly. You never thought too much about Ticket Taker, but when he wants it, he can give you real creeps. You sigh, head low despite the bright lights, the confectioneries stalls and the joyous music. You are clearly a stain on that happy canvas, surrounded by those wide smiles and the happy families.
And the couples…
You sit down in one of the dining area and take out your phone, pretending to be busy while observing others. You see a gay couple sitting on the other table, sharing some fries, laughing together. One has a stain of sauce on his cheek and his man gently wipes it with his thumb and a cheeky gaze, tilting his lover's head to share a kiss.
You look away before their lips meet, feeling like you should not spy on that moment.
Or is it just that it hurts you inside…?
You catch a woman in a vivid red pullover running into the arms of a man, bracing himself for the impact, spinning with her in his arms. They squeeze each other tight, almost bumping into other people, but nothing seems to matter more than their happiness right now.
You lower your gaze on your screen, your head resting on your palm.
You are pathetic. Simply pathetic.
What did you hope would happen with the Jester exactly? You sleep together once, then, magic, you discover you are meant for each other? You become inseparable and official? He presents your formally to his circus family as his girlfriend and you live in his tent from now on? Or he comes living with you in your apartment, leaving the circus life behind and moving on with you onto new life goals as a fresh new couple? Find a stable 9-to-5, get engaged, a kid and a dog?
Seriously? You are that deluded about yourself that you imagined, for just a second, that Jester would put his hate for human aside for you? That he would see this night as anything else than a mistake on his part?
Wow. Really?
You slouch on the wooden table with the longest exhale you had for months.
"Wake up, girl. That is not a thing…"
A notification makes you rise your head again. It's your period tracker, informing you that your period are estimated for next week.
Oh Great! So you are mourning a fantasized relationship, have to suffer through the most terrible humiliation you ever had to endure yet, and you are hormonal?
Just great!
Terrific, even.
You slam your head back onto the table with an agonizing rale.
You almost jump out of your skin when a hand grabs your shoulder gently.
"My Lady?"
"Ah…! Pierrot! You scared me…" You readjust your posture immediately, caressing a strand of hair behind your ear in embarrassment.
"Is everything alright?" He asks, concerned, lowering himself on one knee.
"Yes! Yes, everything is alright." Your laugh is too high to be genuine.
"Are you sure?" He insists softly, his thumb caressing your shoulder, "You can tell me anything."
Oh Pierrot.
Sweet, sweet Pierrot…
Why couldn't you fall for him instead?
"Nah, it's not worth your time. I'm just tired after work, you know how it is." You smile, praying for it to also reach your eyes.
He contemplates you silently, blinking once, before his mouth stretches in an affable smile.
"Do not exert yourself, my Lady."
"I won't, pinky promise."
"Did you come for a reason?" He tilts his head, sitting next to you.
Good question.
Why did you even came here for? TT and Doctor merely tolerate you, Harlequin gives you the creeps when he has ideas behind his eyes, and Jester… You don't want to see him.
The alternative was wallowing in self-pity and eating ice cream until you gain 5kg and a lot of pimples to perfect your disgraced image. What a perspective… Yet it was what you were going for until you realized your feet brought you to the Circus instinctively.
"I… Came for you, of course." You keep your smile despite your weariness, "For who else would I be here?"
He seems to tense up, fidgeting his fingers as the white of his face gets a deep shade of red.
"R-really, my Lady?" He asks with a wide grin, "If I knew, I would have organized my best act for tonight."
"Ah ah. All your acts are great, Pierrot, worry not." You tell him, without feeling the need to lie.
He squeals on his sit.
"Really? You think so, my Lady?"
"Yes. At least the one or two I saw where entertaining." An image of the woman, chained to the plank, a knife prop at her head with the false blood flashes into your mind, disturbing you for a second "At least I… I think they were?"
He hops up and down on his seat, blushing madly.
At least he likes you.
At least…
"Do you want to eat something? It's on me, we didn't spik- I mean, it is our specialties tonight!" He asks.
"Oh… Why not? You don't have another act tonight?" You worry.
You can' have Pierrot cancel his show for you, or Jester or Bil will definitely come for you…
"This is my shortest night. My last performance just ended, worry not! I have all the night for you!" He explains, elated.
This is wrong.
This is bad. Very bad. But… But you could use a pick me up, tonight.
"Thank you, Pierrot. It would be with great pleasure."
His smiles widens and he grabs your hand, escorting you the nearest stall for you to pick a snack.
________________
"And then, I smashed his face into the pie!" He finish his retelling with great bravado.
You hold your rib, laughing.
You spent the entire night together, eating snacks, talking, joking, laughing. You sneaked out of the circus to watch the stars on a rooftop, soaked your feet in the sea nearby, lost your breath with stupid games. You just returned before his absence becomes suspicious, sharing a soft-serve each on an outside stage.
It was a pleasant evening. Relaxing and relieving.
You needed a night or simple fun and bounding, and Pierrot proved himself pretty… Laid back, comparing to his usual self. He was smiling madly, giggling, but kept himself in check, like he couldn't believe it was true.
Or that's what you assume, at last. You know he is besotted with you or something, but its crazy for you to think that you have this type of effect on other.
Especially after last night, if that's not proof enough.
But for now, you are willing to take what you can.
"Jesus, you are awful to each other!" You wipe a tear off the corner of your eye.
"This how we are…" Pierrot licks his ice cream, his feet dangling in the void of the stage, "It's… Complicated. Harlequin and I, we… Have history together. Things that neither of us can took back. Things that are here to stay…" He sighs, his smile diminishing.
Your laugh dies down.
"You regret?"
"I regret a lot of things. Things that could have gone better. Or could have been." He admits, "Words where thrown, and mistakes where made and now... Now we have to learn to live together again, with our regrets."
You look at him silently, how he gazes up at the moon. His expression is saddened, but also strangely… Peaceful.
"I… am sorry, Pierrot."
"What for?" He turns to you with a hint of pain in the eyes, mixed with tenderness, "None of this is your fault."
Your mouth stretches in a thin line, embarrassed and out of place.
You're disgusting, using him like that. To ease your own pain. To forget your own crushed hopes.
"I am just sorry, that's all." You look away to the ground, "What you must have gone through must not have been fun, and yet… Yet you keep hope. You try to go forward, not like some I won't name."
Not like you.
Not like Jester…
"Thank you, (M/C). I appreciate the thought." He grins.
He grins softly. Not like one of those mad grin he used to give you at the beginning, this is so much more… Genuine and gentle.
Too genuine…
"Woawoawow! Hold on! You use my name, now?" You playfully mock, "We are official or something?"
His smiles stretches ever so slightly.
"No. But maybe we are heading to that, slowly." He whispers with surprising little teasing or eagerness like he usually do.
He is calm and at peace, under the star with his soft-serve and you. His hand barely brushes yours, his pinky sneakily coming to lock with yours.
Like a little secret.
You gulp, trying to appear focused on your melting ice cream to not let appear your turmoil on your face.
Because you were absolutely correct earlier. Why did you not fall for Pierrot, instead of Jester?
Pierrot is here and willing, he helped you when you needed, and even if you think he was a bit suffocating in his advances, at least he cares for you. Since the beginning.
Not like the Jester.
Your relationship start with Pierrot was… Well, it was shaky at best, but it is build on genuine interest on his part, and contempt on yours.
Contempt for something you did not realize the true value of. Instead you focused on the ring leader. The puppeteer of the show. The brain-washer who in turns, only showed contempt to you in return.
And you could not help but run after him like a mad dog after a car.
You huff out a chuckle.
"I'm really a pushover…" You finally admit out loud, "And I am blind to what matters."
"Maybe we are more alike than we first imagined, my Lady." He muses, unhooking his pinky to sneakily cover your hand with his.
So slowly and gently, you can't refuse him.
Do you even want to?
"Maybe you are more correct than what I wanted to admit, Pierrot…" You raise your gaze to the moon.
You both remain silent, sitting next to each other, eyes on the star, hand in hand, shoulders brushing.
It is time to be more like Pierrot, mourn what could have been, but was never true, and focus on what is real. So you lay your head on his shoulder. He gasps, tensing up, but leaves you be.
"My-my Lady?" He asks with a trembling voice, full of contradicting emotion.
"Shhhhhhh… Let's enjoy the night. Together." You murmur back.
He intertwine your fingers together, making sure his claws don't slash your skin and keep you close to him. Soon enough, a low purr starts, rumbling all the way up his throat.
"I am happy, my Lady." He says, "Like I wasn't for a long time."
"Good. I am too." You realize as you say it.
Maybe this is the start of something sweet. Of something healthy, at last… And not you idolizing your partner like a psycho and a maso. Maybe with sweet Pierrot, things will be better for everyone.
He has quite a lot of things you usually likes in a man.
Why not, after all?
You hear him gulp.
"Could I… Bite you too?" He asks out of the blue.
"What?" You frown at him.
"I want to cover the bite you received… If you allow me, my Lady."
You look at him without blinking.
And snort.
What is it with this circus and biting?
"Is that foreplay for monsters?" You tease.
He flushes deeply.
"It's, huh… Is it not foreplay for humans too?" He counters.
"Touché." You shrug admittedly, "Maybe. It's still a bit painful."
Your laugh dies as he growl out loud.
"Pierrot?"
He raises his hands up in panic.
"It was not directed at…! I didn't mean to…!" He apologizes profusely, fidgeting his hands in the air, before sighing, defeated, "I'm sorry, my Lady, I did not want to scare you… It was not against you."
You grin, raising an eyebrow.
"Do you do that in bed too?" You ask.
He chokes on his breath.
"My Lady?!" He panics, not knowing where to stand with you.
You chuckle.
"Sorry. I'm teasing."Or not, "I'll let you bite me when that one is healed. I can't serve in the cafe with bite marks on both shoulders at the same time, what the patrons would say?" You snort.
He gulps, pursing his lips like he words were burning his tongue but he silences them.
"You are right, my Lady. That would be inappropriate to wear the love marks of both males at the same time." He nods, grinning with his sharp teeth, "Let's wait for the true one to take its place and shine."
"Yeah.Let's be civilized people, for fuck sakes. Who are we? Freaks?" You both laugh, your hands finding each other again.
You wouldn't have guessed that biting was a kink shared between the cold Jester and the sweet Pierrot.
"My Lady?" He coos, "May I… Kiss you?"
You pretend to think about it, but you feel fire on your cheek exploding at his question.
You look up at him.
You consider his face as a whole. You let your gaze caress his bangs, meeting his golden eyes melting with fire, traces the line of his absent nose before landing on his lips. You let your gaze lingers purposefully, licking your lips teasingly, making him skip a breath.
And decide you tortured him enough. You close you eyes, leaning closer but you wait from him to cross the gap.
You feel his breath on your lips, guessing his own a mere inch away, ready to claim your mouth and-A growl resonates behind you.
You yelp when Pierrot violently pivots his bust throwing a blade in the dark, his expression so terrible your heart almost skips a beat.
"Leave, Harlequin!" He orders. "Or God helps me…!"
You look behind you. You can't see a thing, yet you did hear a growl. You perk up your ear, and can hear a hitched breath and then steps walking away.
"Was that..?"
"Harlequin, for sure." Pierrot keeps his eyes fixed on the shadows, "He turned around you for so long, and now he can't accept he lost."
"It's … Not a competition, Pierrot. My affection is not a prize to be won." You grab his sleeve gently, inviting the red clown to calm down.
He squints at the blackness before facing you again.
"I am sorry, my Lady. I will make sure he will not bother you ever again."
Sorry, Harlequin, for dragging you into that mess...
"Leave him be, Pierrot." You ease his nerves, "He learned his lesson, I am sure."
He winces, unconvinced. You look at each other, not knowing what to do with yourself anymore.
"It killed the mood, no?" He drops, a hand on the back of his neck.
"Lets just look at the stars together. We will have plenty of occasion to kiss later." You decide, replacing your head on his shoulder.
His purr resumes as he lays his head on yours.
____________________
Ticket Taker makes his round, finding the last lost visitors and indicating them the exit politely, but sternly, before stopping dead in his tracks.
He silently looks at you heading toward the back entrance, at Pierrot's arm, a blissful smile on both of your faces, fingers intertwined.
Without boasting himself, Ticket Taker thinks of himself as a respectful gentleman toward womankind, especially the monstrous one, but also the human kind when the circumstances allows it.
But.
Being naked on Jester's lap one night and leaving hand in hand with Pierrot, 24h hours apart down to the second? He doesn't know if it is impressive or wildly inappropriate.
Either way, he doesn't like that. He doesn't like you.
He invites you to not mingle with one and he founds you with another 5 hours later. This is a whole new type of insolence he might need to work out of you, or you will bring disarray into their close circle.
Seducing 2 of them is too much of a risk for them, even if it was a laps of judgment on Jester's part.
Jester needs to know about that development. They must come up with a plan to get rid of you, before it is too late.
Ticket Taker remains in the shadows, hands clasped in his back, fixated on you both, strolling away.
Isn't it so adorable?
Isn't it absolutely revolting?
Like you could feel his burning gaze on the back of your neck, you stop to look around you, unsure. Pierrot releases your hand to circle your shoulders, kissing your hair softly, inviting you to keep going.
You walk away without noticing the blue clown.
He sniffs with disdain and spins on his heels, direction Jester's tent.
This is the most sensitive case he has to deal with yet. They can't survive another Columbina situation, especially not a human one, and certainly not between Pierrot and Jester.
He walks swiftly, orientating himself in the dark like he was born here. And in a minute, he is at his destination. Anyone else would knock on a iron pole nearby to announce their presence, but him and Jester are far past those courtesies, and he enters immediately. He heads toward the bedroom space of the large tent, behind the office space, hidden behind a large curtain when he stops to smell the air, a familiar scent alerting him.
Blood.
Jester's blood.
Moans of pain.
He hurries to the bedroom space, slamming the curtain out of his way with a shout.
"Jester, are you alright?"
He discovers books ravaged on the ground, sheets torn apart, pillows gutted, furniture clawed…
And the corpses of two fools, laying there, inert.
Bil snaps his head toward another whimper and discovers the Jester, slouching on the ground, bare chested and panting, holding his bloody arm.
"Jester…" He hurries to his friend's bedside, kneeling to exanimate the damages, "Did the fools…?"
He looks at his friend, he is panting, sweating heavily and obviously in pain. His breath is short and whistling, and his eyes are veiled like he was running a fever.
"No." Jester winces, "Worse."
And he throws one of Pierrot's blades to the ground with a hiss.
Bil looks at the shining blade soiled with blood like it was taunting him, flabbergasted.
And then it downs on him. The prior sexual encounter, the aggressive behaviors, the destructive urges, the territorial instincts, the need to hunt… And the signs of degrading health.
"You claimed her…" He lets escape, astonished, facing his leader once more, "You claimed her, and she tries to move on from you."
Jester sniggers painfully.
"Say that with more enthusiasm, would you, Bil? I do not feel humiliated enough yet."
"Jester, this is no joking matter." He berates him harshly, "Do you know what that means? This is incredibly dangerous!"
"I am keenly aware, thank you very much." the purple monster hisses again, "I regretted my foolery when my teeth released her flesh. I should have broke her neck, instead."
"Maybe you should have, yes." Ticket Taker agrees reluctantly, "Yet here we are…"
Jester finally turns to his lifelong friend, and if his face is stern, even cold, only his purple eyes communicates his true distress.
"You look at me like waste on the side of the road." He grouses, combing his purple mane of his back with a sweaty hand.
"I look at you like a friend in need of assistance. Get up, I will stitch your arm, and then…" He pauses, like he is regretting everything that led to that instant, before helping his friend stand up, "Then we will need to discuss our options."
CW: Merman Katakuri, human reader, monster/human relationship, mentions of violence, mentions of death, implied suicidal thoughts, courting, obvious reader, breeding, penis in vaginal sex, overstimulation, non-human genitalia.
Word count: Roughly 6.8K
A/N: Part two. You reflect on what the last three years have been like for you, and some of the more important moments you and Katakuri have had. Only to realize he's grown fond of the island you're on for an interesting reason.
Part One
Prefer A03? Read it here.
You flinch when you hear rocks crack, the movement sending sand flying upwards into the air. You’d roll your eyes, but it would be wasted effort since Katakuri, the cause of the noise, is somewhere inside the cave on this little island.
Even if he could see it, after roughly three years of traveling with the eel merman, you’d be lucky if he even registered the gesture as a sign of your annoyance. Well. He’d know you were annoyed; he just might not make the connection that it was because of him.
For the past month, since the two of you had found this island, if the small sand bar attached to a jagged hunk of rock could be called an island, Katakuri has been spending from dawn until dusk inside the small cavern. Doing whatever it is he’s been doing in there. You know it involves smashing rock from the sound of it; other than that, you have zero idea what he’s up to.
Much like when he first saved you. You hadn’t expected him to let you remain with him. With the sun-warmed sand around you, and the gentle lapping of the waves at your legs, you let yourself relax, remembering that night.
Your legs couldn’t even support your weight when he placed you on the dark edge of the dock, falling to your hands as your body registered that you were back on land. Yet before he could leave, you were turning, scrambling almost. “Katakuri!” Yelling out to him in hopes he hasn’t left yet.
He’s still there, sunk beneath the waves with just his head out of the water. Watching you. Waiting.
“Wherever you were when they found you, you can’t go back!” The scientist's words are clear in your mind. “They want to try and recapture you.”
“Why?” You just blink at him. Does he not realize how important he is to them?!
“Why? So they can throw you back in a tank and keep experimenting on you! Do you not realize how important you are to them?!” You know he’s intelligent; they told you he almost died when they caught them and during transport. Though now, after learning they were adding bacteria to his water on purpose, you can’t help but wonder if that was a lie.
“Why tell me?” Oh. That seems more like what you’ve learned in the past few weeks.
“I don’t want them to put you in a tank again.” If they did catch him, they won’t let the same escape happen twice. You also won’t be there. Which makes you realize something. “I can’t go home.” They rolled you off the ship attached to something that was dragging you down. No doubt they’ve already come up with some kind of excuse to claim you died in a work accident.
With how quickly they worked when you were hurt, you suspect they’ve been moving even quicker to clean up the remnants of your life. You feel your blood run cold. You have no idea what to do, how are you even going to feed yourself? You don’t have money, you don’t have family, you're on your own, and you possibly don’t even exist anymore in government systems to get a new job.
“Come with me.” Your head snaps upward from where you had been staring at the stained cement under your hands. You were talking out loud, and it seems the merman is taking pity on you.
“Ok.” You’re bawling your eyes out, telling yourself maybe you start over in another country or something. If your emotional state bothers him, he doesn’t say anything, just helps you back down from the dock before tucking you against his side and darting off into the open sea.
You didn’t start over in another country.
Instead, as you had traveled, you noticed Katakuri seemed to have places in mind as he moved through the ocean. He’d wait until dark, then slip closer to the shore to let you wander. He was also damn good at stealing without getting caught too.
He realized you couldn’t stay in your old clothes covered in blood from when the scientists had knocked you out. As well as that, you couldn’t eat some of the food he did. You have to give him credit, when he showed up with a waterproof bag, and refused to tell you how he got it, you weren’t too mad at him.
Some of the clothes fit, and anything that didn’t you left behind. Keeping dry goods inside the bag and a few odd things that needed to be kept dry.
Yet, the longer the two of you traveled, the more you came to realize that all the places you visited, he seemed familiar with. Which prompted you to ask him one day.
“What are you looking for?”
“My siblings.” You aren’t sure what to do with that information. Knowing there’s more than just him makes that primal part of your brain flinch. While the rest of your brain is wondering where they could be hiding and how humans didn’t find them, but the ocean is vast and there are still lots of places your species can’t go.
“Maybe I can help?” He remained silent as he swam, and you clung to his back, holding onto his shoulder and wedged against his dorsal fin. “I could ask the locals if they noticed anything strange. It might help with information at least.”
As the months passed and you never learned anything, you felt useless. Nothing ever turned up, and your questions just made it so you were even more wary of other humans than before.
“I hate that I’m so useless.” Grousing as you tossed the bones from your fish into the small fire just past the edge of the water. “I can’t even pay you back with hints and clues that might help you find your siblings.”
“Most of them are dead.” There was a note of something in Katakuri’s voice, like a thread of longing. His arms are folded with his head resting on them as he watches the flickering flames from the water.
You learned some time ago that he can drag his bulk on land for a short amount of time, but his preference is to remain with most of his body in the water. In rare moments like now, when the small waves still manage to hit the edge of his elbows, you appreciate his company.
He’s always serious, to the point that half the time you don’t know if you should prod him for more information or not. Yet with that bomb drop.
“Will you tell me about it?”
“They found our home and killed most of them while trying to capture us.” He doesn’t move, and the pitch of his voice doesn’t change. “Not all of us were made to survive outside of the depths.” One of his arms moves, reaching up to scratch his talons along his scaled jaw. “That is all I will say on the matter.”
“Katakuri?” Your voice is soft as you shift. Letting the word hang in the air for a moment. “I’m sorry.” Whispering it when his dark eyes meet yours. You don’t say anything else. What else could you say anyway? He made it clear he doesn’t want to talk about it, and who could blame him?
Now, at least, you feel you understand him a little better. When you learned he had siblings, you couldn’t make sense of why he didn’t want to try to survive in the tank. Family means something to try to hold onto. If they were dead… He probably saw no reason to try to escape on his own when he couldn’t find a way out.
That it would have been better to die there, instead of surviving and letting them learn more.
You don’t remember when the tears started that night. You do remember neither of you moving until even the coals of your little fire had gone out, the only light remaining that of the stars.
Another crack makes you flinch, rolling onto your side and noticing the tide has risen. You really were enjoying memory lane. Letting out a soft sigh as you sit up once more. After you had learned about his siblings, you had expected him to pull away. That, with your new knowledge of his past and the realization that your species was the reason for his loss, he’d leave you on an island and not return.
He always came back for you.
There were so many times you wanted to question it, to ask him why. You never did. Too afraid of the answer. You know in some way, he cares about you. He wouldn’t have kept you with him for this long if he didn’t.
He could have also let you drown during a hurricane.
“There is a storm coming.” He’d said it so matter-of-factly you were taken aback, but you didn’t question him. He knew how to read the currents and the way the wind shifted.
“Do you want to drop me off on an island then?” Pointing towards the distance and what you think is a decent-sized island, if the visible palm trees are anything to go by.
“No.” His tone even as he makes his statement. “You will remain with me.” Yet he starts making his way towards the island, only he doesn’t stop at the shore. Instead, he heads around the island, towards a rocky outcropping.
“Katakuri?” Saying his name softly as he moves closer to the edge, feeling your confusion rise.
“The surf will be rough here, but there will be no current.”
“So, I’m going to spend the storm standing on a rock?” Tilting your head because that sure as hell doesn’t sound safe.
“No. You are going to remain with me.” Feeling his hand reach towards your back and starting to remove your bag. Surprising you even more as he takes it and slips it over one of his shoulders. “If you are on the island, I won’t be able to reach you if you end up in trouble.”
He made it hard to argue with him.
You regretted it hours later when the storm was at its peak. You should have tried to argue harder, made more of a case of how, even if he couldn’t get to you, you would have been safer closer to the center of the island.
Instead, you’re clinging to his body. Both of your arms wrapped around his neck, your fingers numb as you grasp your elbows. Your face is tucked into the hollow at his throat as he keeps most of your form out of the water. Using his own body like a wall to keep the waves from hitting you, and a bit of a furnace to try and keep you warm, pressed flush against him. Straddling him in a sense, since the thickest portion of his tail, where his hips would have been if he were human, is between your legs. One of his large hands pressed against your back, his elbow folded down and against your side, trying to let more of his heat sink into you.
“You’re alright.” Rumbled from his chest as if it somehow feels even warmer. Like he’s putting more effort into producing heat to keep you from freezing in the swirling water, his other hand is hooked into the rocks behind you, keeping you from being smashed against the harsh surface.
You make a whining noise as an answer. You’re exhausted, but your mind refuses to let you relax. You just cling that much tighter to Katakuri, hoping the storm ends soon.
When the storm is over at last, you understand why he didn’t want to let you remain on the island alone for the duration of the storm. There’s a lot of debris from the surf, and the high winds have knocked over several trees.
The chances of you getting hurt would have been high.
After spending the storm in Katakuri’s embrace, the worst you suffered was how exhausted you were. The two of you spent the next day on the shore. Well. You spent the day on the shore, sleeping next to a small fire.
What Katakuri did during that time, you’ll never know. Like most of the time when he was under the waves in the deep, and you were on the shore.
What you do know is that when you woke up, he was nearby in the surf. Watching you from across the fire, one that now had a large flat rock partially sitting on the embers. The smell of fish in the air as the rock served as a cooking surface for thin slices of meat. He could eat it raw, and his actions were endearing.
Your stomach growled.
The memory of those thin strips of tuna reminds you that you hadn’t eaten much today. Pushing yourself to stand, using your hands to rub at your backside and legs to knock the loose sand away before heading towards a small alcove near the rocks. Pulling a snack from your bag as you tried to ignore how much louder the smashing of rocks was. At this rate, you’ll soon need to go back to a human town on the coast to get some more provisions.
That makes you nervous.
This is the longest the two of you have stayed in one area, and it has you on edge. You doubt that the scientists have given up looking for Katakuri, and remaining in one place means rumors could spread.
Biting your thumbnail as you glance around the island, deciding to go for a short walk. Calling it just a sandbar doesn’t fully do it justice. It has a few palm trees that line the slope of the island. You assume based on the shape of it that the cave is underneath the hump in the island, and there has to be decent soil of some kind for the palms and small shrubs to have taken root.
A small pool of water, and by small, you meant damn small. Like maybe a foot across, even if it was deeper than you’d suspected, was what you assumed kept many of the plants alive when rain didn’t come to the island. You sure as hell were never going to drink from it, but with how much effort Katakuri was putting into whatever he was doing in the cave, you were starting to wonder if you couldn’t get some root vegetables or similar to grow.
It would be better than just wandering the island. But it would suck to start something and then leave, both because it would be wasted effort and leave behind signs someone had been on the island.
Near the top of the hill, the sound of breaking rocks is duller, like the layers of earth under your feet are serving as a sound barrier. It also reinforces your idea that the cave is under the hill. Glancing out towards the horizon, you can see the sun starting to slide lower in the sky.
You should see if you can find any driftwood that’s washed up on the island. Right now, there’s a decent little pile for fires from the deadfall from the island flora, but it never hurts to have a bit more.
Especially since the driftwood needs a few days to dry out before it will burn well without causing too much smoke.
By the time you’re done with your circle of the island, the sun is starting to slip beneath the sea, which means Katakuri should be stopping soon. Making your way towards the portion of the beach that sits near the reef and the steep incline of the rocky side of the hill.
You’re a little surprised to see a familiar head of hair sticking out of the water, crimson twinged eyes watching you before he drifted closer.
“You finished early.” Keeping your tone dry as you approach the surf.
“The work for today is done.” Pulling himself closer to the shore, stopping when he’s close enough to reach out and touch you. He doesn’t, but it’s nice when he seeks out your presence instead of remaining in the shallow water.
“If I ask will you tell me what you’re doing in there anyway?”
“Yes.” You close your eyes as you take a deep breath. Of course, he couldn’t answer what you really wanted. When you reopen your eyes, you can see that rare flicker of amusement on his serious face.
“What are you doing in there?” Taking a sip of water from your bottle that you had walked around the island with.
“Widening the cave and carving alcoves.” You feel your eyebrows furrow together as you look at him.
“And why would you be doing that?”
“You need somewhere secure when the weather turns, and the reef is a good place for raising young.” The water you had been drinking goes the wrong way as you try to cough. Hacking and smacking your chest while your eyes water.
“Katakuri.” Your voice is hoarse as you give a few more coughs. “I feel like there is something we need to discuss about what you just said.”
“What is there to discuss? If another storm comes like the one a year ago, you need somewhere to rest.” Folding his arms so he can rest the point of his chin into the meat of his forearm. “Somewhere I can reach.”
“That is not what I am talking about!” Pressing your fingers into your eyebrows as you glower at him. “I mean, yes that is part of it too! I thought we had to keep moving?”
“This island has suitable terrain to ensure our safety.” The water shifts as his tail moves. “The cave will ensure an effective hiding place should we require it.”
“You know that’s not what I mean.” Letting your hands fall into your lap as you let out a long exhale before catching his gaze again. “What if-”
“You aren’t built to travel the waves forever.” His voice even as he speaks that single line. Letting the silence linger between the two of you for a short while. You get the feeling that if you try to bring up the scientists again, he’ll just cut you off. Eventually, he shifts, one of his large hands reaching out to land on your leg. “You’re upset.”
“Of course I am.” Huffing at him as you try to find the right words. “I feel-” You swallow as you place your hand over his. “I feel like you have to hold yourself back because of me. That if you didn’t have to take my needs into account, you might have had more luck. Now it seems like you’ve decided to stay in one place.” Your voice grows quieter the longer you speak. “Because of me.”
“You seem to misunderstand.” His voice was flat once again. “If I found you a burden, I would have left you behind.”
“Ok fine. Fine.” It’s not. You imagine it’s not going to be the last time the two of you have this conversation. Again. “You need to explain the other part too.”
“I would assume it only natural that we’d have young in the future.” Your neck, face and ears feel like they’re on fire. Damn fishman.
“I feel like that is the crux of my concern, Katakuri.” That’s twice he’s said something about young, yet you weren’t aware that he saw you as more than his companion. Or a really strange pet he had adopted. “Are you aware that humans don’t just drop in a casual conversation the concept of having children with someone. Or dropping it as an assumption that it’s an eventuality.” He blinks at you for a moment.
“If you do not want young that is acceptable. I would never force the idea upon you.” You let out a noise, a cross between frustration and embarrassment.
“Katakuri.” Dragging out his name. “You skipped like, five steps in the human mating process.” Trying to frame it in a way that might make sense to him. “The first being a conversation that you are interested in, said human.”
“Are humans dense enough that they can’t figure out when a potential mate shows interest?”
“Not to insult myself, but we’ve been together for three years. Do I need to answer that?” You give your head a shake. “You know what, don’t answer that question. Maybe you should explain how the whole thing works for Merfolk.”
“I’ve been doing it for the past three years.”
Your face doesn’t feel like it’s on fire anymore. No. It feels like it melted as if you were near a volcano. “You realize you picked an idiot right?”
“You are intelligent in other ways.”
At least now you don’t feel so bad about finding him attractive. “So to make sure I understood this conversation correctly.” Feeling utterly exhausted as you reach down to take his hand from your thigh to trace the edges of one of his webbed fingers. “You’ve been carving out a home for us, because the past three years you’ve been courting me. Oh. And you want to have children with me someday.”
“Yes.”
You realize you need to ask him something else, because before tonight you really had no reason to even think about it since it had never crossed your mind before. “Is your…” You trail off because you can’t ask him what you wanted. “Are your reproductive capabilities based on mammalian ones or fish ones?”
“I have a penis.” That's it. You are going to die due to internal combustion. “We would have live young, not eggs.”
All you do is groan, shifting in the sand and trying to bury your face against his arm. “For the record.” Wincing a little. “I’m not saying no. But I’m gonna need some time to process this conversation.”
“We have time. I still have work to do.” If he finds your actions amusing, he doesn’t say it. Yet there’s a hint of warmth in his voice when he next speaks. “Nor are you at the point in your cycle where you are fertile.”
“Katakuri?”
“Yes?”
“Stop talking. I don’t even want to know how you know that.” It's official. You are going to die from embarrassment because the eel merman you’ve been traveling with has been courting you for some time, and you were too dense to take notice.
After that, you found yourself blushing a lot more at some of Katakuri’s comments, though you did use the newfound information to your advantage. Placing your hands on the sides of his face and kissing him, explaining that it was part of human courtship.
He didn’t get it.
He didn’t stop you either, and from the way he started to seem to expect it in the morning, you suspected it was growing on him.
You also took his view of turning this island into a home and running with it. When he last brought you to a nearby island for supplies, you did buy some seeds. The real question now would be whether you were capable of getting them to grow.
If your sore hands were anything to go by, you didn’t think you were going to have much luck. Letting them soak in the chilly salt water, sitting on a rock at the edge of the reef with your legs dangling in the water. It’s there that Katakuri finds you after he returns from the depths. With what you think is a seabass in tow, the prize from his hunting trip.
“I see you found supper.” You aren’t expecting him to answer you; he usually doesn’t, since when he brings home large fish, it tends to last a few days. Longer for him since you can only eat so much before the meat starts to turn.
So when he swims closer with his head between your legs and his pupils widening it takes a lot of scrambling to make sure you don’t fall backward from the shock of him getting that close. “Jesus Katakuri, are you trying to scare me?” A hand over your chest as you send him a glare. Only to notice there’s a feral gleam in his eyes, and his throat keeps moving like he’s trying to swallow. “Katakuri?” You’ve never seen him like this before.
“You’re fertile.” Of course, he’d say something like that. With the two of you having had more conversations, which in your case meant learning more about courting, you had admitted you did want to be his mate. That you did want children with him if it was possible. “If you are not ready, I should return out to sea for the time being.”
You just blink as his words sink in, and when you look at him, really look at him, you can see how the fins along his arms and back seem to be flaring. Like his body is trying to put on a display after catching your scent.
“You say it like you’re gonna force me and I’ll get pregnant on the first try.” Letting out a small laugh as you reach down to cup the sides of his face. His skin is warm, far warmer than he normally is.
“You will.” Tilting his jaw just enough to press the edge of his cheek against your palm. “I simply do not trust myself if you are not ready.” Your heart flutters in your chest every time Katakuri puts you and your needs first. It’s damn endearing and a little adorable for such a large creature.
“Someone sounds pretty sure of himself for never having had sex with a human before.” It's awkward, but you lean down to press a kiss to the seam of his mouth. “I’m nervous, but I want to try it. I want you.” Letting out a small yelp when he reaches out to tug you from your seated position on the rock and into the water.
“The sand will be better.” Tucking you against him as he makes for the beach, the seabass long forgotten.
The beach might not be far away, but that doesn’t stop Katakuri from swimming as quickly as possible, and you’re there in record time. Feeling him shift you in his arms as he slows, so you’re pressed against his chest. Which makes it a lot easier as his pace slows for you to pepper whatever skin you can reach with kisses.
For the past several months, even before he pointed out his affection for you, you’ve wondered what it would be like to be intimate with him. You weren’t blind to his build and how attractive he was.
Now you’re going to get to enjoy it for real instead of in your head.
Feeling as the soft sand presses against your back, he’s right. This is a lot nicer than what it might have been if it were the rocks. Now that he’s stopped moving, you pull yourself higher, closing your eyes and pressing your lips against his. Humming low in your throat.
Aware of the sensation of his talons sliding along your outer thighs, pushing the fabric of your dress higher. “Is it just right into it for merfolk?” Letting a teasing tone enter your voice as you trail your hands along his shoulders. “No foreplay.”
“Yes.” Letting out a soft giggle when he admits the single word. “A mating display would be enough.” Tugging your body down by your hips so you’re flush against where his own would be. “I am aware you will need more.” Letting out a soft gasp as he uses his hold to grind you against him. You’ve never felt that particular portion of his body before, leaving you to assume, like many marine mammals, it’s hidden until it’s needed for reproduction.
You can’t kiss his lips like this, a reminder of the difference in your sizes as he keeps moving your body against his. Instead, you focus on the pressure between your legs while you run your fingers over his chest. Mapping the scars that are dotted across the thinner portions of his hide as you press your face into the hardened ridges of his pectoral muscles. Licking some of the softest skin on his body, aware it’s for your benefit instead of his. If the way your insides are clenching, you know both his actions and your own are working.
If it wasn’t for the ocean, you were certain your own fluids would be trickling out of you at a steady pace. The way Katakuri moves you has your clit and the folds of your cunt rubbing along his cock. Your inner walls are spasming, your arousal is growing and spreading through you. Like a tingling sensation. And yet, you can’t help but feel yourself getting more curious.
Sliding one of your hands down between both of your bodies. You want to feel him, to wrap your fingers around his length. You can’t help but let out a gasp. You knew his dick wouldn’t look like a human one, not if it could retract inside his body. Yet the moment the tips of your fingers grasp him, you can’t help but shiver. Even the smallest part of his cock, the head is still wide, but instead of being rounded, it feels like it has a point. You can’t help it, as you blurt out the thought that crossed your mind. “Is it going to fit?” For some reason, just saying those words makes your core tighten up even more, and you can feel the fluid coating your insides.
“Your body will accept enough to be sufficient.” You whine hearing that. For some reason, it makes your entire body feel hot, barely aware of the chill water around you. You know Katakuri won’t harm you, and his words make you pant, wanting to know just how much you’ll be able to take of his length.
“Katakuri.” Your voice has a raspy edge to it, pausing to lick your lips as you give his tip a squeeze. “Please.” Pumping your hand along the parts of his shaft that you can reach, while you rub your nose against a faint scar just below the center of his abs. “I’m ready.”
He lets out a noise that you have no words to describe, but you feel his cock violently twitch in your hand. The force of the vibrations has you panting, with your entire body pressed against his; it’s like a low current is thrumming through you. Your core is clenching so much, your stomach is starting to hurt. Aware of Katakuri’s talons gripping your hips that much tighter as he pulls you away from his body.
“I require your assistance.” You pause the rotation of your wrist, letting out a shuddering breath. His voice has the slightest strain, and for some reason, that makes your heart beat faster and hard enough that you think you feel it inside of your chest. Given the difference in your size, it would be hard for him to maneuver you and align his cock with your pussy.
You’re glad he can’t see your smile as you use the hand that had been rubbing along the end of his lenght to guide the strange tip to your slit. You can feel Katakuri go still, like he's trying to hold himself back. Concerned that if he moves too quickly, he might hurt you. Too bad for him that it gives you a moment to take control of the situation. Rubbing him against your folds in a way that he pushes just inside of you for a moment before being pulled out. Hitting that sensitive bundle of nerves as you use his length to tease yourself, small pants escaping you as you start to rut your hips to chase a bit more pressure than when he was rubbing you against him.
You don’t know how long he lets you tease yourself, just that your body is feeling warm, while your head is a little fuzzy.
“You are making it both difficult to remember you are human, while wanting to end your teasing and breed you.” The words hissed, and the idea of his jaw clenched tight, those razor-sharp fangs parted just enough to let him speak with his eyes closed, almost pushes you over the edge.
Almost.
“You just feel so good.” Whispering against his skin. Now that you’ve been called out, you realize his entire body is tense from holding back and letting you enjoy yourself. You had told him earlier you were ready; now you know beyond a doubt you are. Your insides clench around nothing with a dull ache in the deepest parts of you from all the small movements of the muscles that have been going on for so long.
The time for teasing is over.
You take in a long, slow, deep breath, lining him up before you shift so the tip starts to spread you open. You wish you could watch, but your imagination is helping, since with how easily he’s sliding into you and the pressure against your slick walls increasing, you can envision being speared on his cock. How wide you’re being stretched to accommodate his girth based on the burn of your muscles, hovering on painful.
Katakuri makes another noise, and you’re more aware of his talons tightening on your hips. You keep focusing on your breathing as you keep moving, taking more of him slowly as you rock your hips. You feel so full, and with your hand pumping along the smooth shaft, you're aware of how little of his dick is inside of you. Damn physics, because you’d love to have his entire length stuffed in your hole, twitching and putting pressure in all the right places.
“I see…” You trail off to swallow when the very end of his tip brushes against your cervix. Your entire body tenses from the sensation, unsure if it was painful or pleasurable. The fingers of your hand on his chest are exerting enough downward force that the ends are paling, trying to keep your brain from short circuiting.
“That seems to be-” Cutting himself off to let out a groan that makes your wall clamp down around him, hyper aware of the spasming muscles. “The limit.” Your eyes feel like they could roll back into your head. Trying to find enough brain cells to rub together to agree with him, since you had been about to comment that you understood what he meant earlier about how your body would be able to take enough of him.
Neither of you moves for the next few moments. Only aware of the movements of your inner walls, the pulsing of his cock, almost in time to the shifting of his chest as he breathes. Both of you are waiting for the tremors of your bodies to slow. To let yourself adapt to the feeling.
With all the teasing earlier, you’ve been hovering at the edge. So close to an orgasm that you don’t know how you haven’t tumbled into that mind-numbing oblivion yet. Now, you can feel yourself being pulled back, more aware of the way your chest is heaving like you’ve been running a race instead of being split open by the penis of an eel merman three times your size. Your grip on his length loosens to finally let him go, planting it beside your other hand on his expansive chest.
“Katakuri.” Whispering his name, knowing he’ll hear you, he always does. Starting to press your lips against whatever skin you can reach. “I love you.” Saying the words out loud for the first time comes as a relief. “I love how you’re making me- us a home.” Your fingers are moving, following the hardened ridges of skin as you drag your bottom lip against his chest. “I know you’re going to hold back so you don’t hurt me.” Nipping at the raised patch of hardened skin that covers his pectoral muscles. “So please.” Letting your voice turn into a whine as you roll your hips, his tip firmly against your cervix. “Breed me.”
“Do not complain after our mating.” It’s all he says before his hold on your body shifts, starting to move you in time with his undulating form. Allowing him to control how quickly he thrusts in and out of you. Setting a pace you would never be able to set, let alone match, all you can do is moan as your cooling orgasm flares back full force. You can feel everything, and it isn’t long before you feel that familiar tingling along your spine, your legs jerking with micro spasms, toes curling as your orgasm hits you.
Katakuri doesn’t stop. One of his large hands adjusts his grip, so the fine scales along his thumb are hovering over your clit. Every so often, knocking into the sensitive bud and pulling another orgasm from your core.
You just keep moaning his name between your pants and whining. Pressed more and more into the sand as Katakuri keeps moving, never forcing more than you can take into your slick core. His grip loosens for an instant, and you feel a searing heat spread in the deepest part of you. Your eyes closed as you revel in the sensation of being filled in a different way.
Only.
Katakuri doesn’t stop.
His pace remains the same, still moving you at a pace that brings tears to the corners of your eyes. “Kata-” Your attempt to call his name broken off by a moan when he presses his thumb against the bundle of nerves.
“One will not be enough.” Feeling him shift, dragging the two of you out into slightly deeper water, but you can still feel the soft sand under you when he thrusts downward. “I will fill you, over and over again, all night.” That same searing heat spreads inside of you to the point you know his cum must be leaking from where you are joined with how much he seems to pump into you. “To ensure you are carrying our young.”
The moment he said “our young”, your body feels like it’s been touched by a live wire. Your walls clench down, impossibly tight, like you’ll stop him from moving. To keep all his cum inside of you, because in the short time since you became aware of exactly what he felt for you, that it wasn’t a one-sided attraction, you’ve come to realize you want more with him. It doesn’t matter that your child will probably be like him, that you won’t be able to teach them everything you should as a parent. He’ll be there to help you, just like he has since the two of you saved each other.
You’ve never wanted to kiss him so badly as you do right now. Forced to settle for your hands reaching as high on his body as they can. Barely grasping his shoulders as you mouth at the thicker portions of his hide over his heart. You can endure this, as much as your body is starting to feel the exhaustion from so many orgasms, you want it.
All of it.
When the first hint of dawn comes, Katakuri is still moving. Parts of you are numb, pressed into the sand at low tide, his cum leaking out around his member as he holds his body up with one hand. Trying to keep moving, panting “one more” over and over as his form trembles.
Just as the sun peaks over the horizon, you feel him freeze. That searing heat returning as a load that feels impossible large is pumped into you. His head hangs down after a moment, his eyes almost closed as he watches you wrecked under him. “Sleep.” One word, and you nod. Feeling his weight settle over you, but his length remaining in your core like he can stem the flow of cum.
Sleep sounds good. Letting your eyes close at last, your body thrumming from the exertion. Yet you have the strength to reach down, your fingers sweeping over the skin above your womb. A soft smile on your face, as you fall into dreams of a smaller version of Katakuri that is far more curious about this world.
The next time you wake up, you’re still pressed against Katakuri. Only he’s floating on his back, a hand holding you in place while the noon sun warms the shallow waters of the reef.
If the feeling in your legs is anything to go by, you aren’t walking today. Or tomorrow for that matter. Parting your lips as you start to lift your head. “Katakuri-”
“You require more rest.” You decide it’s not worth arguing. He’ll realize you were going to ask about that seabass and how you still need to eat later.
Law came back to the cabin looking like someone had carefully removed every working part of him and left the attitude behind out of spite.
He shut the door with his heel, Kikoku still in hand, hat low over his eyes. His shoulders were tight. His jaw was worse. There was blood on his sleeve that probably wasn’t his, which meant he would ignore it until someone else made it inconvenient.
You were already on his bed with one of his blankets over your legs, reading a book you had stopped pretending to care about twenty minutes ago.
“You look charming,” you said.
Law gave you a flat look. “Don’t start.”
“That bad?”
He set Kikoku against the wall with too much care. “No.”
So yes.
You put the book aside and stood. He watched you like he expected you to ask him what happened, and you didn’t. You just took his hat off, placed it on the desk, and reached up to push your fingers through his hair.
For a second, he stayed perfectly still, then his eyes shut.
“You’re eating,” you said.
“I’m not hungry.”
“You’re eating.”
“I’m your captain.”
“And I’m very impressed. Sit down.”
His mouth twitched like he wanted to argue, but he was too tired to make it worth the effort. He sat on the edge of the bed while you brought him the bowl from the little warmer you had stolen from the galley. Rice, broth, fish. Nothing fancy. Nothing heavy.
Law stared at it. “You poisoned this?”
“I considered it, but Bepo looked sad.”
“Mm. Weak.”
You sat beside him and held the bowl until he took it. He ate slowly at first, like he was doing it only to shut you up. You kept your fingers in his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp between pauses, and the longer you did it, the more his posture sank.
Not enough for anyone else to notice.
Enough for you.
There were entire confessions in the way Law accepted being touched without making a miserable comment about it.
When the bowl was empty, you took it from him and placed it aside. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, face hidden in his hands. You kept stroking his hair.
Neither of you said anything for a while.
The Polar Tang hummed around you, deep and steady under the sea. The sound filled the room, safer than silence, gentler than the things neither of you wanted to name.
Eventually he turned his head just enough that his cheek rested against your thigh.
You looked down at him. “That’s new.”
“Shut up.”
“You’re cuddling my leg.”
“I’m resting.”
“On me.”
“Mm.”
You smiled, but you didn’t tease him further. Your fingers slid through his hair again, slower now, nails barely touching his scalp. He exhaled through his nose, quiet and rough.
It should not have felt intimate, but it did.
He turned his face slightly, and his lips brushed the inside of your wrist.
You stopped breathing for half a second.
His eyes opened, sharp even half-dead with exhaustion. For a moment, he looked at your wrist like he hadn’t meant to do that. Like his body had moved before his control returned.
Then, because he was impossible, he did it again.
A warmer kiss.
Your fingers tightened in his hair. “Law.”
“Problem?”
His voice was low, tired, almost bored. You hated him a little. “No.”
“Then stop looking offended.”
“I’m not offended.”
“You look like you’re trying to decide whether to hit me or climb me.”
You stared at him. He looked back, deadpan, mouth barely curved.
“You’re the worst man alive.”
“Probably.”
Then he kissed your palm. Not quickly. Not as a joke. His mouth pressed there like he was testing your pulse, your patience, both.
Heat crawled up your arm.
He pulled back just enough to look at you properly. His eyes were dark, shadowed from lack of sleep, but clearer now. More present. More dangerous in the quiet way.
“You’re still thinking too loudly,” he murmured.
“I’m thinking you should sleep.”
“I was.”
“You were kissing my hand.”
“Multitasking.”
You laughed under your breath, and something in his face changed. He reached for you then, one hand closing around your hip, and pulled you down with him under the blanket. It was clumsy only because he was exhausted. Law being clumsy felt illegal.
You ended up half beside him, half on him, your knee between his legs, his arm around your waist. The blanket slipped over both of you, trapping heat fast.
“This is a terrible sleeping position,” you said.
“Then leave.”
His hand spread over your back and held you there.
You looked down at him. “You are very bad at bluffing.”
“I’m excellent at bluffing.”
“You’re literally holding me hostage.”
“You’re not resisting.”
Fair.
His mouth found your wrist again, then your forearm, slow little kisses that did not match the sharpness of his face at all. You watched him do it, feeling each one settle lower in your stomach.
Comfort turned strange that way. One moment you were keeping him together. The next, his lips were on your skin and the air was too warm and his hand had slipped beneath the back of your shirt.
His fingers were ice cold.
Law’s mouth twitched against your arm. “Sensitive?”
“Your hands are freezing.”
“I’m a doctor.”
“That explains nothing.”
“It explains enough.”
His hand flattened against your lower back, then slid up, warmer now from your skin. He touched you like he was still trying not to ask for anything. Like he could make this practical if he moved carefully enough.
You leaned down and kissed him.
That broke the last useful thought in the room.
He kissed back slowly at first, his mouth firm and tired, one hand cupping the back of your neck. Then your fingers tugged lightly in his hair and he made a sound so low you almost missed it.
You didn‘t miss the way his grip tightened.
“Do that again,” he said against your mouth.
You smiled. “Ask nicer.”
His eyes opened. Exhausted, half-wrecked, still somehow arrogant enough to ruin your life. “You’re warm, fed, and in my bed,” he said. “Don’t get ambitious.”
“You dragged me here.”
“I made a medical decision.”
“Was kissing my palm also medical?”
“Your circulation looked poor.”
You laughed, and he kissed you harder to shut you up.
His hand slid under your shirt again, and this time he didn’t stop at your back. His palm moved over your waist, your ribs, then higher, dragging heat after it. He gave you just enough time to pull away. His thumb brushed under your breast, light enough to be cruel.
Your breath caught.
Law’s mouth paused against yours. “Still fine?” he asked, quiet now.
You nodded once.
His eyes narrowed. “Words.”
“Yes,” you said. “Still fine.”
Then his hand covered you properly, and the sound that left you was embarrassingly soft.
He kissed your jaw, your throat, the spot below your ear, while his thumb moved slowly over your nipple through the thin fabric. Not rushed. Not sloppy. Precise enough to make your hips shift without permission.
His thigh slid between yours under the blanket, pressing up just enough to make you tense.
You broke the kiss with a shaky breath. “Law.”
“I know.”
That was the problem. He always knew.
His hand left your chest and slid down over your stomach. Slow. Warm now. His fingers traced the waistband of your shorts like he was considering the most annoying possible way to take you apart.
You grabbed his wrist. He stopped immediately. For half a second, his face went still. Careful. Too careful. Then you guided his hand lower.
“Brat,” he murmured.
“You were taking too long.”
“I was being considerate.”
“You were being evil.”
“That too.”
His fingers slipped beneath the fabric.
Your whole body went hot.
Law watched your face as he touched you over your panties first, slow pressure between your thighs, finding the wet warmth there. His mouth parted slightly, the smallest crack in his composure.
“You’re soaked,” he said, low.
Your face burned. “Don’t sound surprised.”
“I’m not.”
“You sound proud.”
“I am.”
You should have had a comeback. You did not. Because his fingers moved, and the blanket made everything worse. The heat. The closeness. The tiny space where every breath hit his mouth and every movement rubbed your body against his. His hand stayed steady between your thighs, stroking you through the damp fabric, watching you try not to fall apart too quickly.
“You’re quiet now,” he said.
“I hate you.”
“Mm. Of course.”
His fingers pushed your panties aside and your nails dug into his shoulder.
He exhaled once, controlled but rough, when he felt you bare. His fingers slid through you slowly, gathering slick heat before circling your clit with the kind of patience that made you want to bite him.
You buried your face against his neck.
He let you for exactly three seconds, then his free hand caught your jaw and tilted your face back. “Don’t hide.”
“You are annoying.”
“You knew that already.” His fingers circled again, a little firmer, and your hips rocked into his hand.
That made his eyes drop. There was something devastatingly hot about him like this. Still tired. Still half-dressed. Still acting like he had control while his breathing slowly betrayed him. His hair was messy from your fingers. His shirt was wrinkled. His gaze kept moving between your face and the shape of your body shifting under the blanket.
He touched you like he had all the time in the world. Like the world outside his cabin had finally shut up.
When one finger slipped inside you, your breath snapped.
Law kissed the corner of your mouth. “There?”
You nodded.
“Words.”
“Yes.”
His mouth brushed yours. “Good.”
He worked you open slowly, one finger at first, then two, his palm pressed against your clit with every shallow thrust. Not rough. Not gentle either. Intentional. The kind of touch that made your thighs tighten around his wrist.
“You’re making this difficult,” he muttered.
You laughed breathlessly. “For you?”
“For my self-control.”
Your eyes opened, and for once you caught him before he could hide it. The hunger in his face. The strain in his jaw. The way his hips had shifted closer without him seeming to notice.
“Oh,” you whispered.
“Don’t.”
“You’re turned on.”
His stare went flat. “Excellent medical deduction.”
“You’re really turned on.”
“You want me to stop?”
“No.”
“Then stop talking.”
But you felt him against your thigh now, hard and hot through his clothes, and the knowledge made your body clench around his fingers.
Law inhaled. His eyes sharpened. “You did that on purpose.”
“I didn’t.”
“Liar.”
His fingers curled inside you.
You gasped, hand flying to his shoulder, and his mouth found your throat again. He kissed you there messily now, less controlled, teeth grazing skin as his fingers kept their slow, ruthless pace.
Under the blanket, your hips moved against his hand. His palm rubbed your clit every time his fingers pushed deeper. You were hot everywhere, trapped between his body and the blanket and his voice near your ear.
“You’re close,” he said.
You hated how calm he sounded.
You hated more that he was right. “Shut up.”
“Very close.”
“Law.”
“Mm.”
A laugh broke out of you, shaky and breathless, and he kissed it straight from your mouth. His fingers moved faster then. Just enough. The angle changed, his thumb pressing directly against your clit, and your body went tight.
You grabbed his hair and he groaned, not a neat little sound. Not controlled. Low, rough, dragged out of him before he could stop it.
That was what pushed you over.
You came against his hand with your face pressed into his neck, trying to keep quiet and failing in small, broken sounds. Law held you through it, fingers slowing but not stopping too fast, his mouth at your temple, his voice low and close.
“There,” he murmured. “That’s it.”
Your whole body shuddered.
“You’re evil,” you whispered again, weaker this time.
His lips brushed your hair. “You keep saying that.”
“Because it keeps being true.”
He was quiet for a moment. His fingers slipped out of you slowly, and you felt the loss of them in a way that made your stomach twist. Then he pulled back just enough to look at you.
The exhaustion was still there, but underneath it was something rawer. Needier. Law, caught between wanting to pretend he was unaffected and being very obviously affected.
You looked down. His belt was still fastened. His shirt still buttoned. He looked unfairly composed for someone who had just ruined you with his hand. “That seems unbalanced,” you said.
His mouth twitched. “You’re recovering fast.”
“I’m talented.”
“You’re annoying.”
“You’re hard.”
The silence after that was deeply satisfying. Law stared at you.
You smiled.
For once, he did not have an immediate answer. Then his hand caught your waist and pulled you closer until your thigh pressed between his legs. He shut his eyes for one second, jaw flexing.
You moved against him lightly.
He sucked in a breath.
“Oh,” you said softly. “Sensitive?”
His eyes opened. “Careful.”
“No.”
“No?”
You reached down between you and worked his belt open under the blanket. Your fingers were less elegant than his, mostly because your hands were still shaking. Law watched you struggle for three seconds before looking personally offended.
“You’re going to break it.”
“I am not.”
“You’re attacking it.”
“It’s dark under here.”
“It’s a belt, not an enemy.”
“Help or shut up.”
He huffed a tired laugh and helped, undoing it with one hand like an irritating show-off. You pushed his pants open just enough to slip your hand inside.
The moment your fingers wrapped around him, his entire body went still.
He was hot in your hand, hard and heavy, and the sound he made when you stroked him once was almost silent. Almost.
You kissed his jaw. “There?”
His eyes cut to yours. “Don’t start.”
You stroked him again, slower, and his forehead dropped briefly against yours.
That shut both of you up.
The room got quiet except for breathing. Yours uneven. His controlled until it wasn’t. Your hand moved beneath the blanket, fingers sliding over him, learning what made his mouth tighten, what made his hips shift, what made his grip on your waist go almost too firm before he forced himself to ease up.
He was beautiful like this in the worst way. Still trying to hold himself together while letting you touch him. Still trying to be Law about it, even with his breath breaking against your mouth.
You kissed him softly.
He kissed back harder. His hand returned between your thighs, slick fingers finding you again, and you jolted. “You’re sensitive,” he murmured.
“I just came.”
His mouth curved faintly. “You’re welcome.”
You squeezed him in warning.
His smugness died immediately.
Worth it.
He groaned against your mouth, hips pushing into your hand before he could stop himself. His fingers pressed against your clit again, slower now, less calculated, more distracted. That made it hotter. Law losing precision because your hand was around his cock felt like something you should put in a museum.
A terrible museum.
For horrible people.
You moved together under the blanket, messy in a quiet way. Your hand stroking him. His fingers rubbing you. His mouth dragging over yours, then your cheek, then your throat. Neither of you fully undressed. Neither of you needed to. It felt almost more intimate like this, half-hidden and overheated, clinging to each other in the small private dark.
His voice dropped near your ear. “Can you come again?”
Your stomach clenched. “Maybe.”
“Maybe?”
“You’re very demanding for a man I fed rice to.”
His laugh was barely there, rough and low. “Answer.”
“Yes.”
His hand changed pace.
He kissed your cheek like he was pleased with himself and too tired to pretend otherwise.
The second time built slower, deeper, your body still oversensitive from the first. He kept touching you like he knew exactly how much you could take, while your hand grew slick around him from his own precum. His breathing got worse. His jaw pressed against your temple. His hips started moving into your fist in short, restrained thrusts.
“Law,” you whispered.
His fingers stilled for half a second. Not stopped. Checked.
You nodded quickly against him. “Keep going.”
He did. Your legs tightened around his hand again. The blanket had slipped down to your hips, but neither of you cared. Your shirt was pushed up. His pants were open. Everything was too warm, too close, too much.
And still, somehow, soft.
Because his other hand was in your hair. Because his mouth kept brushing your forehead between kisses.
Because even while he was touching you like he wanted to ruin you, he held you like something precious he would rather die than name.
You came again with a broken little sound against his mouth.
This time Law followed almost immediately. His body went tense, his hand closing hard around your hip as he came into your fist with a rough, muffled groan. His face pressed into your neck, breath hot against your skin. For a few seconds, he did not move at all.
You held him through it, fingers gentle now.
His breathing slowly evened out. “Messy.”
You laughed, exhausted and warm. “That’s your first comment?”
“It’s accurate.”
“You’re romantic.”
“I’m tired.”
“You came on my hand.”
“You were involved.”
“You’re stupid.”
His mouth brushed your shoulder. “You’ve said that too.”
“And I’ll keep saying it.”
He shifted carefully, cleaned you both up with a towel from beside the bed. He was efficient about it, but his touch had gone softer. Almost shy, if Law could ever be accused of such a thing without committing murder.
When he settled back down, he pulled the blanket over you both again. You ended up against his chest, your leg tangled with his, your hand resting over his ribs. His heartbeat was slower now. Heavy. Human. He held your wrist for a while, thumb moving over the inside of it.
You thought he was asleep.
Then he murmured, “You’re still not allowed to tell anyone I cuddled you.”
“You didn’t cuddle me.”
“Good.”
“You medically restrained me under a blanket and then got me off twice.”
His chest moved with a quiet laugh. “Accurate.”
You smiled against him, boneless and warm. After a long silence, his hand slid up to the back of your head. He held you there, not tightly. Just enough.
“Thank you,” he said.
It was so quiet you almost pretended not to hear it.
You kissed the side of his throat. “Anytime, Captain.”
“Don’t call me that in bed.”
“Oh, you like it.”
“I don‘t like it.”
“You’re lying.”
He sighed, but his arm tightened around you.
Later, he woke you up with his mouth already against your neck and his hand flat on your stomach.
Not soft. Not sweet. Possessive and warm, his fingers spread under your shirt like he had been holding you there for a while and had only just decided to make it your problem.
You opened your eyes into the dark cabin.
Everything hummed low around you. The walls were thin. Too thin. Somewhere outside, metal creaked, pipes clicked, and the ship sounded alive in the worst possible way.
Law’s mouth moved against your skin. “You awake?” he murmured.
You swallowed. “No.”
His teeth grazed the side of your neck. “Liar.”
You shifted back against him just enough to feel him hard behind you.
His hand stopped moving. For one long second, neither of you breathed right, then his fingers tightened at your waist. “You’re doing that on purpose.”
“I’m sleeping.”
“You’re bad at it.”
“You woke me up.”
“You moved first.”
“You were touching me first.”
His mouth brushed your ear. “I was checking your pulse.”
“At my waist?”
“You’re alive, aren’t you?”
You almost laughed, but then his hand slid lower, over your hip, dragging you back against him with enough pressure to make your breath catch.
Law heard it. His voice dropped, mean and quiet. “Careful.”
You turned your face halfway toward him. “Or what?”
That was the mistake. His hand came up and covered your mouth before you could say anything else. Firm. Just enough to remind you exactly where you were, exactly who slept outside that door, exactly how much trouble you were in.
“Or you’ll wake someone,” he murmured. “And I’ll make you explain why you can’t behave.”
Your stomach tightened hard. His eyes caught yours in the dark. “Yeah,” he said, too calm. “That’s what I thought.”
You made a muffled sound against his palm.
Law’s mouth twitched. “Still mouthy. Impressive.”
Then he moved. The blanket shifted over both of you as he slid down your body, disappearing beneath it. Heat flooded your face before his hands even reached your thighs.
“Law,” you whispered.
His answer came from under the blanket, low and dry. “Lower.”
Your fingers twisted in the sheets. “Law.”
“Better.”
His hands pushed your thighs apart, not gently, not cruelly. Just with that controlled strength that made your body obey before your pride could complain. His mouth pressed to the inside of your thigh first, slow and hot, then higher.
You grabbed the blanket. He kissed you once over the thin fabric of your panties. You jolted.
He huffed against you. “Sensitive.”
“You’re annoying.”
His fingers hooked into the waistband and dragged it down just enough. “Still talking.” Then his mouth was on you.
Your head fell back into the pillow, breath breaking immediately.
He did not ease into it. He ate you out like he had woken up starving and decided manners were a disease. His hands gripped your thighs under the blanket, holding you open while his tongue dragged through you slow, then deep, then mean. He was quiet about it except for the low sound in his throat when he tasted how wet you were.
The sound alone almost ruined you, so you bit your knuckle.
One hand left your thigh and pushed your wrist away. His fingers laced with yours instead, pinning your hand beside your hip under the blanket.
“No hiding,” he murmured against you.
“Then let me be loud.”
His mouth paused. The silence under the blanket felt dangerous. Then he gave a low, humorless laugh.
“You really want to embarrass yourself that badly?”
Your whole body burned.
He didn’t wait for an answer. His mouth returned to you, hotter, wetter, filthier. His tongue circled your clit with awful patience before he sucked lightly, just enough to make your hips jerk into his face.
His grip turned bruising. “Don’t move.”
“You’re under the blanket eating me out,” you whispered, breathless. “And you’re giving orders?”
His eyes flicked up from between your thighs. Even in the dark, you felt that stare.
“Yes.”
Then he lowered his mouth again and made you regret being funny.
You were close too fast. Embarrassingly fast. It climbed sharp and hot through your stomach, your legs shaking around his shoulders, your fingers gripping his hair beneath the blanket. He groaned when you pulled, and the vibration went straight through you.
“Law—”
Voices passed outside.
Both of you froze. You stopped breathing. Law went still between your legs, mouth still close enough that you could feel every exhale against your soaked skin.
Two crew members walked past the door, speaking quietly. Too close. Too awake.
You stared at the ceiling, one hand clamped over your own mouth.
Under the blanket, Law’s fingers dug into your thighs.
The voices slowed. For one horrible second, you thought they would stop. Then the footsteps continued down the corridor. Their voices faded. The ship hummed again. Silence settled.
Law did not move for another few seconds, then his mouth pressed one slow kiss to the inside of your thigh.
You whispered, shaky and furious, “You didn’t let me finish.”
He emerged from under the blanket just enough for you to see his face. His mouth was wet. His hair was a mess. His eyes were dark in that flat, devastating way that made him look meaner than he actually was.
“I wasn’t trying to make you finish.”
Your brain stalled. “Huh?”
His hand slid up your thigh. “I wanted to taste you.”
You stared at him. He looked completely serious.
“Do you ever hear yourself?”
“Unfortunately.”
“You’re disgusting.”
His mouth curved faintly. “You’re wet.”
You had no response ready for that. He kissed your stomach once, over your shirt, then climbed over you with an efficiency that should not have been attractive. His hand caught your hip.
“Turn over.”
Your pulse jumped. “Ask nicely.”
Law’s eyes narrowed. Then he leaned in, mouth beside your ear. “Turn over before I decide you don’t get to come at all.”
You huffed and turned. Fast enough that you heard him exhale a quiet laugh behind you.
“Asshole.”
“I’m about to fuck you into the mattress and you’re still insulting me.”
“You started it.”
“I’m going to finish it.”
He pushed you flat onto your stomach, hand between your shoulder blades, not hard enough to hurt, just enough to keep you there. Your legs were pressed together beneath him, thighs tight, body stretched out under the blanket. He straddled them from behind, knees bracketing your legs, trapping you in place with his weight.
The position made you feel pinned before he even touched you.
It made you quiet.
Law noticed that too. His palm slid down your spine, slow, possessive. “There,” he murmured. “Finally learned something.”
You turned your face into the pillow. “I hate you.”
“No, you don’t.” His hand slid beneath you, finding you between your pressed thighs. He felt how wet you still were from his mouth and went still for a second.
Then his voice dropped. “Still dripping.”
You squeezed your eyes shut. “Stop talking.”
“No.”
He leaned over you, chest against your back, and his arm slid around your throat, forearm firm across your upper chest and collarbone, hand gripping your shoulder, holding you exactly where he wanted you. Your breath hitched anyway.
Law’s mouth brushed your ear. “Tap twice if it’s too much.”
Your hand found his wrist. You tapped once just to be annoying.
He went still, then you dragged his arm tighter around you. “Bad idea,” he whispered.
“Then stop.”
He did not. His other hand disappeared between you, belt shifting, fabric dragged down just enough. You felt him press against you from behind, hard and hot, sliding between your thighs first, coating himself in how wet you were.
Your fingers curled into the sheet. “Law.”
His hand came over your mouth again. “Quiet.”
Then he pushed in.
The angle stole your breath.
Because your legs were together, because he had you pinned flat, because he was above you and around you and everywhere, he felt deeper than before. Tighter. Hotter. You made a broken sound into his palm and his arm locked more firmly across your chest.
He stopped halfway in, forehead dropping against the back of your head. “Fuck,” he breathed, so low it barely had sound.
You clenched around him. His hand tightened over your mouth.
“Don’t.”
So you did it again.
Law went silent, then laughed once, dark and breathless.
“You really are asking for it.”
He drove in the rest of the way. Your body jolted under him, trapped between his chest and the mattress. His hand swallowed the sound you made. The blanket hid the movement, held in the heat, made every thrust feel secret and filthy and too close.
He didn’t fuck you fast at first.
He fucked you hard.
Slow, deep, punishing thrusts that made your thighs tremble together under his weight. His arm stayed around your throat, holding you up just enough that your back arched beneath him. His mouth hovered near your ear, breath rougher than he probably wanted it to be.
“There,” he murmured. “That’s what you wanted, wasn’t it?”
You nodded against his hand.
His hips snapped forward again. “Of course it was.”
Your eyes rolled shut.
“Look at you,” he said, voice low and mean. “Couldn’t stay quiet from my mouth, and now you’re trying to take this without waking half the ship.”
You whimpered into his palm.
He slowed just to make it worse. “That was not quiet.”
You bit lightly at his hand.
His rhythm faltered. Barely.
But you felt it.
Law’s mouth pressed to your temple. “Careful,” he whispered. “I’m already being nice.”
You almost laughed. It came out as a muffled sob when he started moving again, rougher now, hips grinding deep every time he buried himself inside you. The pressure of your legs together made everything tighter, every stroke dragging against your clit through the way he had you pinned.
It was unbearable.
He knew. He had to know. His hand slipped from your mouth only long enough to catch your jaw and turn your face slightly.
“Breathe.”
You dragged in air.
“Good.” Then his palm covered your mouth again. It should not have been sweet. It wasn’t, not really. But there was something in the way he kept checking, kept holding you together while taking you apart, that made your chest ache under all the heat.
Law’s voice roughened near your ear. “You can take it.”
Your nails dug into his wrist.
“You can,” he repeated. “You’re doing it.” A hard thrust made your whole body jolt. “Quietly.” You made a desperate noise into his palm. His breath shook. “Mostly.”
That almost ruined you. The dry little correction. His voice half-wrecked, still somehow sarcastic while fucking you into the mattress under a blanket with people sleeping down the corridor.
You pushed back against him as much as you could.
Law’s grip turned rough. “Greedy.”
You nodded.
“Yeah?” His mouth brushed your ear. “That all you wanted? Me pinning you down so you’d finally stop pretending you don’t like being handled?”
Your body clenched hard around him.
He cursed under his breath. “Thought so.”
His thrusts got rougher then. Less patient. His chest stayed pressed to your back, his arm around your throat, his hand over your mouth. You were completely trapped under him, legs together, body pinned flat, taking every deep stroke while the bed barely creaked beneath the blanket.
He was trying to keep it quiet.
That made it hotter, because you felt how much effort it took him. The strain in his arm. The way his breathing kept catching. The way his hips wanted to move faster but he forced them into deep, controlled thrusts instead.
“You’re close,” he said.
You nodded quickly. His hand slid from your mouth to your throat for half a second, just to hold your jaw, to keep your face turned enough that he could see you.
“Not loud.”
You swallowed. “Then don’t make me come.”
His eyes darkened. Wrong answer. His hand returned to your mouth, and his other arm tightened across your chest.
“I told you,” he murmured. “Brat.”
Then his hips changed angle.
Your whole body went rigid.
He had found exactly the spot he wanted, and because he was Law, because he was cruel when he was right, he kept hitting it. Again. And again. Deep and rough and controlled, his mouth at your ear, talking you through every second like he could feel your mind slipping apart under him.
“There. That’s it.”
You shook beneath him.
“Don’t fight it.”
Your fingers clawed at the sheet.
“Just stay quiet.”
You came with his hand clamped over your mouth and his arm locked around you, the orgasm tearing through you hard enough that your body tried to curl under his. He held you down through it. Kept you flat. Kept fucking you while you pulsed around him, every sound trapped against his palm.
Law groaned into your shoulder. Not quiet enough. Not nearly as composed as he wanted to be.
You heard it and clenched again, that made hips stutter.
“Don’t,” he rasped.
You did. His control snapped in a way you felt more than saw. His thrusts turned shorter, harder, less even. His face buried against your neck, teeth grazing your skin, breath hot and broken. “You’re unbearable,” he muttered.
You made a muffled sound that might have been a laugh.
His hand pressed more firmly over your mouth. “Still not funny.”
It was absolutely funny.
Then he drove into you deep and stayed there, his whole body tensing over yours as he came with a rough, smothered sound against your shoulder. His arm around your throat held you close while he shook twice, breathing harshly into your skin.
For a while, neither of you moved.
The cabin was silent except for both of you trying to remember how to breathe like normal people.
Then another set of footsteps passed outside.
He froze instantly. So did you. His hand was still over your mouth. He was still inside you. The footsteps paused.
Your eyes went wide. Law slowly turned his head toward the door, expression murderous in the dark.
Someone outside yawned, then kept walking. The footsteps faded.
You started shaking beneath him. Not from fear. From trying not to laugh.
Law’s hand tightened over your mouth, but his own breath hitched once near your ear. “Do not,” he whispered.
You shook harder.
He pulled out slowly, and you both winced. He cleaned you up with infuriating efficiency, still under the blanket, still half-dressed, still trying to look like he had not just lost several pieces of his sanity. Then he dragged you back against him, your back to his chest, his arm around your waist this time.
Much safer. Much less threatening. Still possessive.
You whispered, “You didn’t make me explain.”
His mouth brushed the back of your neck. “Next time.”
Your stomach flipped. “You covered my mouth.”
“And you still almost got us caught.”
You smiled into the pillow. Law exhaled slowly behind you, then pressed one quiet kiss to your shoulder. Soft enough to make the whole thing worse. After a moment, he muttered, “You okay?”
You reached back and touched his wrist. “Yeah.”
His fingers laced with yours. “Good.”
Morning on the ship was usually quiet in a way that felt medical. Dim lights. Low engine hum. People speaking in tired voices because being loud before coffee was how accidents happened.
Law walked into the galley looking like death had filed a complaint against him and lost. Hat on. Shirt buttoned. Face blank.
Completely normal.
You were already at the table with your cup in both hands, trying to look like a person who had slept. You had not. Not properly. Your legs still felt suspicious. Your throat had one spot that made you want to slap him and kiss him every time you swallowed.
Law did not look at you first. That was how you knew he was looking at you.
Bepo was making breakfast with too much cheer for the hour. Shachi and Penguin were half-dead over their plates. Ikkaku was reading something and pretending she was not watching the room with deeply feminine intuition.
Law sat across from you. Calmly. Like he had not had his hand over your mouth a few hours ago because you were both idiots in a submarine full of people with ears.
“Morning, Captain,” Penguin mumbled.
“Morning,” Law said. His voice was normal.
Terrible man.
You lifted your cup to hide your mouth.
Law reached for the coffee pot, then stopped. Just for half a second. Barely anything. His fingers flexed around the handle.
You noticed because you were a bad person. A ruined person. A person with evidence.
His hand was close to his face, and he had smelled it. Not strongly. Not obviously. Just enough.
His eyes went flat.
Oh.
Oh no.
You looked down into your cup so fast your neck nearly cracked.
Law poured his coffee with terrifying precision.
You were going to die.
Not from shame. From trying not to laugh.
He set the pot down. His thumb brushed once over his index finger, like he was trying to decide whether his own hand was guilty of a crime.
It was.
You bit the inside of your cheek.
Across the table, Law’s gaze flicked to you. Sharp. Warning.
You widened your eyes innocently.
His jaw tightened. That was when it got worse. He took a sip of coffee. Then his chin dipped slightly, and the faint shadow of his beard brushed the rim of the mug.
His whole face changed by exactly nothing.
But you saw it.
He smelled you there too. On his own skin. From last night. From under the blanket. From the way he had buried his face between your thighs and then still had the nerve to act like breakfast was a normal social event.
His eyelids lowered for one second.
He stared into his coffee like it had personally betrayed him.
Your shoulders started shaking.
Law looked up slowly. “Something funny?”
“No.”
Your voice was too high.
Shachi looked at you. “You okay?”
You nodded quickly. “Coffee went down wrong.”
“You didn’t drink any.”
“Emotionally.”
Ikkaku’s eyes lifted from her page.
Law’s stare could have amputated you.
Bepo turned around with a plate. “Captain, do you want eggs?”
Law did not answer immediately. Because he had moved his hand again. Because his fingers were near his mouth. Because, apparently, his own body had decided to spend the morning reminding him exactly what you tasted like. His nostrils flared once. Very slightly.
You pressed your lips together so hard it hurt.
Law shut his eyes for half a second. He looked like a man trying to survive war.
“Captain?” Bepo asked, worried.
Law opened his eyes. “No eggs.”
Bepo’s ears drooped. “Oh. Sorry.”
Law’s face softened by a millimeter. “It’s fine. Rice.”
“Okay!”
You watched him pick up his mug again. His hand was steady. His face was blank. His control was flawless. Except his ears were faintly red.
You placed your cup down very carefully.
He looked at you. You looked back. Neither of you said anything. Then you smiled.
His expression turned dangerous.
Under the table, his boot nudged your ankle.
A warning.
You nudged him back.
A mistake.
His eyes sharpened. You looked away first because you were not suicidal before noon.
Penguin squinted between you both. “Why is it weird in here?”
“It’s always weird in here,” Shachi said into his plate.
“No, this is different.”
“It’s your face.”
“My face isn’t weird.”
“It’s morning. Everyone’s face is weird.”
You made the mistake of glancing at Law again. He was staring at his rice like the entire concept of appetite had become complicated.
You knew exactly why.
You imagined him trying to eat breakfast while still smelling you on his chin, still catching it on his fingers every time he moved, still pretending that it was not making him think about throwing the whole tray across the room and dragging you back to his cabin.
He would rather be executed than admit it.
That made it so much better.
You took pity on him. Mostly. You leaned forward slightly and said, very casually, “Captain?”
His eyes lifted. “What?”
“You have something on your face.”
Law’s stare went black. Ikkaku slowly lowered her page. Bepo turned around. “Where?” Bepo asked, deeply concerned.
Law did not move. You reached across the table before he could stop you, thumb brushing lightly over the edge of his chin.
His skin was warm. His eyes did not leave yours. The whole room narrowed around that tiny touch.
You pulled your hand back and looked at your thumb. Nothing there. “Nevermind.”
Law’s expression stayed perfectly blank. Too blank.
He was going to kill you.
Penguin blinked. “What was it?”
“Nothing,” Law said. His voice was calm enough to be a medical threat.
You took another sip of coffee. This time you could not stop the smile.
Law leaned back in his chair, one hand around his mug, the other resting on the table. His fingers flexed once.
Still guilty. Still remembering. Still pretending. Then he said, without looking away from you, “You’re assigned to inventory after breakfast.”
You stared at him. “What?”
“Medical inventory.”
“That’s not my job.”
“It is today.”
“That sounds personal.”
“It’s organizational.”
Shachi pointed his spoon at you. “You should never question medical inventory. That’s how he gets mean.”
You looked at Law. Law looked back.
There was no expression on his face.
None.
Except his eyes said very clearly: Keep laughing and I’ll give you something to be quiet about later.
Your stomach flipped. Unfortunately, your mouth was still alive. “Do I need gloves?”
Law’s hand stopped around his mug. Ikkaku made a tiny sound and hid behind her page. Penguin frowned. “For inventory?”
You looked at Law with the innocence of a war criminal. “Just asking.”
Law stood. Very calmly. Pushed his chair in. Very calmly. Picked up his tray. Very calmly. Then he leaned down as he passed behind you, close enough that only you heard him.
“You are going to be quiet when I deal with you.”
Your smile vanished so fast it was humiliating.
There you are. I knew you would stay.
The Masterlist is here. If that still does not satisfy you, requests are open.
"Batman birthed all his Robin's" but Dick gaslit himself (and othere) into believing it was true to some extent.
—
Dick, eight years old, staring a reporter in the eye: What?
Reporter: Rumor has it that Bruce Wayne and Batman have been seen together.
Dick: Well DUH!
Dick: Batman gave birth to me :)
Bruce, choking on his drink in the background:
—
Later, Jason sitting in Dick's apartment, playing a video game: Any reason reporters think Batman and Bruce are dating?
Dick, not paying any attention: Didn't he give birth to you?
Jason: ???? What the F*CK!?
—
Much later, Jason being told Catherine wasn't his bio Mom before seeing his birth certificate: Oh my god. Batman gave birth to me.
—
Bruce: I'm fine, Nightwing.
Dick: Sure you aren't pregnant again?
Bruce:
Bruce: What?
Dick: You really gotta start using protection.
—
Dick, half asleep during movie night: Can't believe you slept with Willis Todd.
Jason, a full adult: Both my Dad's are hoes.
Bruce: . . .
—
Timbin: Hi, Mr. Nightwing Robin Dick Grayson Sir!!! I'm Tim Drake—
Dick: I KNEW BRUCE SLEPT WITH JACK DRAKE!!!
Timbin: . . . Clearly you're still deeply affected by the death of Jason Todd.
—
Tim, after spending a week with Dick: . . . Dad?
Jack: Yes, son?
Tim: Did Bruce Wayne give birth to me?
Jack:
Jack: Are you doing drugs with Ives??
—
Stephanie:
Dick: I—
Stephanie: Make the joke and I'll make sure you lack your namesake.
Dick: Understood.
—
Tim, walking into the cave: Alfred said Bruce won't be patrolling tonight. I think he was complaining about stomach cramps.
Dick: All the pregnancies really did a number on him.
Jason: Probably Tim's fault, on his medical records it said he was born nearly ten pounds.
Dick: What happened, Tim?! You're so tiny now.
Jason: To bad he didn't consider abortion.
Tim: I wish he aborted you!
Jason: He probably tried to abort you! Your a#& just dodged the hanger.
Tim: Maybe you should've taken note and dodged that crowbar.
Dick: Guys, stop making abortion and death jokes! But to be technical I was the easiest pregnancy—
Damian: WHAT IS EVERYONE TALKING ABOUT?!
Tim, grinning at Jason:
Jason, clearing his throat: I think it's time you found this out Damian...
Dick, dramatically placing a hand on Damian's shoulder: Bruce gave birth to us all.
Damian:
Damian: What?
Jason: Think about it. Who would be insane enough to not abort Tim?
Damian: . . . Father.
Tim: Do you really think Talia Al Ghul would spend nine months undergoing the hardships of pregnancy?
Damian: I . . . No . . . Wait . . .
Dick: Jason didn't die searching for his birth Mother, Dami.
Jason, trying not to laugh: The Joker was jealous that he wasn't the Father, Damian. He killed me because I wasn't his.
Damian: You're all liars!
Jason: It's true! Batman and The Joker were in a very committed relationship!
Dick: My Dad is actually the Joker.
Damian: . . . what .
Dick: Who do you think gave me my love of the circus, Dames?
Tim: It was before the acid incident, obviously.
Jason: Batman cheated on him, that's how I was born.
Damian: . . . Batman gave birth to me?
Tim: Batman gave birth to all of us, Damian.
Duke, in the background: I am not a part of this!
—
Damian, the next time he meets with Talia: Mother?
Talia: Yes, my heart?
Damian: Is it true that Grayson was the Joker and Batman's child and that Todd was born out of wedlock from Batman which is what led to him being murdered and their divorce and that Timothy was birthed by Batman from an affair and that you got Batman pregnant and he also birthed me?
Talia, taking his face in her hands:
Talia: I wasn't supposed to tell you until you were older.
—
Bruce: Dick, Jason?
Dick: Yeah, B?
Jason: What?
Bruce: Can you please stop telling your siblings elaborate stories regarding me birthing them?
Jason: No.
Dick: What? No harm no foul!
Bruce, inhaling sharply: Damian beat the Joker within an inch of his life today, screaming "Why couldn't you love Todd as your own?" And then, as he was being taken to Arkham, shouted, "Do you know what the divorce did to Grayson!?"
Jason:
Dick:
Bruce: Tim still thinks I slept with his Father.
Jason: Didn't you?
Bruce: Jason.
Jason: Bruce.
Dick: Okay, so, maybe it's a little bit out of hand...
Bruce: Damian think you're a child of divorce between me and the Joker! Harley Quinn keeps asking why the Joker didn't even get weekends with you!
Jason: Maybe you should've thought about that before getting the divorce.
Bruce: Jason. Peter. Todd. Wayne.
Dick: Look, B, it's not that bad! It's funny. Dami will grow up and realize it was a stupid prank.
Jason: The story bits yeah.
Bruce: . . . Jay, what do you mean the story bits?
Jason: He'll still know you birthed us all.
Bruce:
Dick:
Dick: Jason. You know that Sheila is the one who actually gave birth to you, right?
Jason:
Jason: Dick. You told me that you picked out my middle name.
Dick:
Bruce:
Jason:
Dick: Now you're f*cking with us.
Jason: I could be. I could not be. But either way, betrayal happened in this room tonight.
Bruce: Dick.
Dick: Okay, fine, I'll stop telling people you birthed us and let the Joker raw dog you...
—
Meanwhile, many years earlier, the one time a reporter interacted with Alfred:
Alfred: I birthed the boy myself! I do believe I am fit to be his caretaker!
This is how I think the BatBurger place trains their employees for dealing with the Batfam.
Mark, the manager: Okay. So. We do pride ourselves on being the establishment of choice for the vigilantes of Gotham.
That means you will be serving the Bats. And there are a couple ground rules.
Now. Unfortunately this has happened enough times that it is a rule. Do not flirt with Nightwing. I know he starts it, he's joking, don't finish it. That's just an HR demand waiting to happen. And I will fire you.
Second. If Red Hood comes, don't ask him if he wants his fries jokerized. Just do it. He does want them jokerized but don't mention it.
Uhh, fair warning, the middle one will stalk you. Just for a bit. It's normal I think, he's just doing a background check. That's my bad, apparently I hired a 'Shadow' once, whatever the fuck that means.
The yellow one and the purple one, are cool. Yellow comes mostly during the day, so you don't have to worry. And if Purple drops any glitter just sweep after she leaves.
The one that looks like Batman but gender-bend is cool too, but you're not allowed to say 'yes' if she offers teaching you self defense. That's an order from Corporate.
Do not. –Listen to me– Do. Not. Serve the little one meat. I don't care if you're tired. I don't care if there aren't any veggie options left. You don't serve him meat. He's a vegetarian, last guy to get it mixed up is the reason why we have a job opening, got it?
And lastly. If ANY of them is actively bleeding or looks worse for wear, you press this button and don't say anything. It sends Batman a message and he pays us extra if we let him know his kids are hurt.
8.5k ·༻𐫱༺· They want to make amends. You're starting to feel like you don't really have a choice in the matter.
content. modern au • alpha suguru • omega satoru • omega reader • fated mates satosugu • unhealthy relationships • codependency • obsession • allusions to stalking • noncon • forced bonding • rough sex • missionary • doggy • overstim • allusions to non con somno •
one day i'll get tired of a/b/o fics. today is not that day
this fic is titled after "an eater" and the vibes of the song heavily inspired the fic. i was also inspired by needy/jennifer and maddy/nate/cassie (rewatched euphoria for the finale). so. uhm. yeah.
The thing—you could hardly be bold enough to call it a friendship—between you and Gojo Satoru was strange, and had always been so.
There was always the matter of class differences. He was the head omega to one of the most prolific clans in Japan. You were the third omega daughter, practically useless, and belonged to a small, minor clan out in the mountains no less.
Satoru had been sent packing there on some sort of punishment and it was there that the two of you drew up a friendly (?) relationship. You thought the world of him then.
Even now. And that's the only reason why you've agreed to meet him here today.
The years of your childhood with Satoru had taught you how to navigate his moods. But three years have passed ; and you are out of practice. The ease you two once had has died and withered out. He sits across from you now, drumming his fingers on the coffee table—and every time your eyes meet, it feels like sticking your hand into the maw of a jaguar.
You want to say there is no ill will. In fact, Satoru had greeted you as if you were long lost friends, separated by distance instead of bitter heartbreak. He had hugged you, maybe too tight. And he had nuzzled against your throat. Not quite scenting, but something else that was still too inappropriate for a public reconciliation.
Your heart pounded in your chest. Your hand shook, and Satoru tracked the motion, as you reached for the teacup.
"So, how're things?" Satoru inquires, as if he doesn't already know.
"Good." You said, stiffly.
You don't mention the strange black cars always parked outside of your house. The Christmas packages. Flowers. Birthday gifts. You don't mention the burner Instagram accounts that pop up faster than you can block them. You don't mention that you've changed your number twice now. And somehow, Satoru had managed to shoot you a text anyway.
"You should come over on Saturday," He says, delicate finger tracing the rim of his own teacup. His blue eyes shift to pin you in place. "We'll cook dinner. It'll be nice"
Even though he says the words casually, you know it isn't a proposal. Satoru has come here with the intent of making sure you know you'll be having dinner with them both on Saturday and that you need to prepare yourself. Annoyance prickles down the line of your shoulders.
Your hands retreat underneath the table, where you discreetly attempt to wipe your sweaty palms off on your jeans. You tried going for a look that said This-Is-Just-An-Average-Thing-For-Me, but Satoru's version of casualness seems to blow you out of the water.
His hair edges the line between carelessness and wanting to impress. An expensive woolen coat tossed over the back of his chair. Black pants. A turtleneck sweater made of a lighter fabric. Like he could have been meeting his fellow house-wives for brunch or stepped out of a business meeting.
"Maybe" You start, trying to keep the distaste off of your face. In truth—you can think of nothing worse than dinner with your ex-best friend and your ex-boyfriend. Your mouth opens, breathing shakily. "I better not, actually"
Don't say sorry, you think, digging your nails into your thigh. Don't over-explain yourself. No means no.
Satoru huffed and exhaled sharply. You hated the way your body stiffened to attention, perking upwards. Even three years later, he has you eating out of the palm of his hand.
Yet another thing he was better than you at.
He had always been prettier. Smarter. His scent turned heads. Alphas glanced longingly at his long legs and were captivated by his pretty blue eyes. Teachers praised his grades. He was always picked first in gym-class. Even though he was an omega, you have never known Satoru to submit to anything.
Satoru would watch you watch other alphas. They never wanted anything to do with you of course, a plain, meek omega. But it would never be long until those same alphas were trailing after him—or him parading them right in front of you. As if to say, why would they want you if they could have me?
You dug your nails into the palm of your hand again and pushed the thought away. Your therapist says that it's most likely not the case. Satoru makes you feel inferior as an omega, so your brain will try to attempt to twist old memories to reaffirm what your insecurities tell you.
You wanted to tell her that she didn't know Satoru like you did. But you had to admit that it made sense. He's never gone out and said it. Maybe he just liked all the same alphas you did. Maybe, maybe, maybe.
"Let's go to how things were" Satoru says, trying for a new angle. When that gets little to no reaction from you, he tries again. "We miss you"
At that, your armor cracked. Your features contorted into an expression of pain. Ashamed, you brushed aside his hand and hung your head. Cheeks heating, you rapidly blinked your eyes to stop yourself from crying.
You missed them, of course you did. Your best friend. Your boyfriend. Even three years later, they consumed much of your time. It was all you thought about. Reconciliation. Making it work. There was no such thing as making it work. Not when they were fated mates and you were the force that had brought them together.
Because of course, the one thing you wanted, the inane fairy tale dizzy little omegas dreamed of—an alpha just for them. Of course Satoru got that and you didn't.
Because, ultimately, Satoru's how things were and your how things were, were two different things.
"No" You said, proud of the way your voice didn't waver or shake. "No, Satoru. I don't want to do that."
It took everything you had not to fall apart. You thought nothing of it at first, meeting here in this cafe. The perfect halfway mark between your house and where you thought they might have lived currently. But had that been apart of Satoru's plan too? Get you here to make sure you felt inferior, in front of an audience? A pay-back for daring to up and leave?
Breathe. You obeyed the whispering thought deep within. There you were, being silly again. You weren't the same, secretly insecure riddled thing from three years ago. Sure, the betrayal had stung deeply. But you had moved on. Of course you moved on. You lifted your head.
Satoru tilted his head, as if assessing you for weaknesses anew. "No, you don't want to do that?" You nodded. Satoru hummed, as if to say, too bad. His fingers skirted along your knuckles. "Suguru wants to see you"
A sudden sharp ache. Like the mere mention of him was a wound, and Satoru was a hand that sprinkled salt on top. Or, more befitting of his nature—twisting a blade deeper. You sucked in a sharp breath, pulling back from him.
"I don't think that's a good idea" You murmured, voice sounding scratchy. You shook your head, and aimed for something more assertive. "It's not a good idea. None of this. I shouldn't have com—"
"It was just a suggestion" He said, whipper-snap fast. He too seemed poised for action, mirroring your position. Satoru sucked his teeth. "You're being difficult. I want you to come home"
Everything is always what you want, you think with a twinge of bitterness. Everything has always been what Satoru wants. Satoru wants you to match yukatas for summer festivities. Satoru wants his things in your nest. Satoru wants to don you in pretty things. Satoru wants to kiss you sometimes, when he's lonely, or scared.
"I don't—" Your words tumble out wrong, too sharp. Like you're attempting to challenge him. You try again. "I can't just forget what happened."
"I know" Satoru nodded gravely. "He knows too. We tried to make it work before and it didn't work out the right way. We just need to try again"
His words picked up in speed. His hands moved about in wild increments. You were upset, he assured you he understood that. But. If you just came over on Saturday—for dinner. Then things would be OK again.
One thing stood out to you : Satoru had not apologized.
You came here, because you thought he might apologize. All you wanted was for someone to say they were sorry for you, and what you had endured.
The thought was laughable. Why would you assume that? Satoru never apologized. Regret, shame, guilt...those were not things he felt. He felt only desire, and everything he desired, he would have. If he did not already have it.
He didn't mean to steal Suguru away from you, your mind whispered. The part that still submitted to Satoru and his whiles. The part of yourself that you fought everyday. That wasn't his intention. He was your best friend. He can't help who the Fates tie him to.
And didn't you try to make it work at first? The horrid attempt at making a pack. But how could you make pack with the people who you felt betrayed by? It was as though you and Satoru were constantly at each other's throats—with Suguru left to break them up. If not that, then the opposite, with Satoru and Suguru struggling to figure out the depths of their new bond and constantly fighting over you.
And somehow, in the middle of it all, you became neglected.
Then, came the awful situation of marking. You attempted to mark Satoru, despite the fact that omega's couldn't mark one another. You just wanted—you wanted a sign. Let your mark on him stay, and you would too. The mark faded. But the one tethering Suguru and Satoru together did not.
You packed your bags and left under the cover of night shortly thereafter.
Hopelessly, your gaze lingered on Satoru's throat. His only olive branch was the sweater he wore. You couldn't see all of it. Just a little bit, peeking out over the top. A perfect impression of Suguru's teeth. A healthy, successful bond. An alpha who loved and cherished him.
Everything you've always wanted.
You recoiled from the thought, from Satoru, and the fact that you had attempted to reach out for his hand. Sweat bead along your hairline. The cafè suddenly felt stifling. Eyes. So many eyes. Everyone (or perhaps just Satoru) were watching you.
How did the two of you look, to wandering eyes? A scene from a drama, most likely. Satoru played the part of the romance lead. You, the second-lead. Unwanted. He sat confidently across from you. You looked like you were trying to mend down into your chair.
Could everyone see you the way you always seemed to see yourself?
"I can't. I'm so—" Don't say sorry. "I need to go. This was a mistake"
"Please?" Satoru never begged. Of course not. And he wasn't starting now. This was just another ploy. To get you to give in.
You nearly fell on top of the table in your haste to stand. The chair screaming as it slid along the floor. Eyes. People watching you. Sending you dark, annoyed looks.
"I have to go" You said fervently, gathering your things. "I. Please delete my number. I don't want to see either of you. Please respect t-that"
You escaped for the door before Satoru could follow. As the chilly early-March air brushed against your cheeks, you thought you caught a glimpse of him still sitting there. You kept your eyes trained to the ground, getting to the car parked half a block away out of sheer luck.
It felt as though you couldn't breathe until you were home again. Until you were safe. You ignored the flowers and your favorite chocolates lying innocently against the dining room table. Zapped totally of all energy, you collapsed into bed and did not rise again until the next morning.
When you were in your third year of high school, you had a crush on an alpha. Suzuki, or something. He was tall, and his skin was always slightly tan from all the time he spent outside on his family's ranch. He had a woodsy, grassy scent that you liked—you had no idea if it was his real scent or just what clung to his clothes after all of that work outside.
He had hair that curled slightly at the nape of his neck. It had seemed, over the course of the summer the year before, Suzuki had grown handsome. Once, he had been willowy. And then, built. You liked to sit behind him in class. Once, he had turned to ask for a pencil. That had been the highlight of your year.
Satoru had come over for the summer. He usually does. You weren't known as yourself. You were known as hot Satoru's clumsy best friend—and he didn't even live there. He had barreled into your home the same way he always had, and immediately set to reconstructing your nest so that it was big enough to fit two.
He had you in there, lying on top of you, stealing every snatch of air from your lungs.
You stroked the back of his head where you knew he liked it best. His purr rumbled into your own chest, relaxing your tense muscles. He was ranting about his favorite topic lately : how much he hated alphas.
"And, to add insult to injury, she asked to scent me twenty minutes into our date!" Satoru whined, and then began to gnaw puppy-like on your finger, which made you giggle. "Alphas are so annoying. You're so lucky you don't have to deal with them"
The words stung. You gave him a wan little smile, lips stretched thin. He didn't mean it, you told yourself. It's not like you would ever say anything to him about it. You didn't want to come off as insecure or pathetic.
But didn't he realize that it wasn't normal to be practically invisible to alphas? With the way they treated you, you might as well be a beta. Not that there was an issue with being a beta. But was it so wrong to want an alpha to look at you and see potential for a relationship?
His finger trailed down the side of your throat. He was peering at you strangely. "It would be so much easier if we dated instead"
Your face flushed immediately. You wanted to brush it off as a joke, but you knew there was some degree of truth to the admission. Not because of his tone, or the look in his eyes. But because you knew him as though he were an extension of your own hand.
"I-I...uhm" You stammered, glancing away. "But we're both omegas..."
"So?" Satoru scoffed, rolling his eyes. "You don't seriously believe in all of that traditional bullshit, do you?"
"No of course not!" You weren't a bigot. "I. Well...I guess I just always saw myself with an alpha?"
"But how would you know?" He asked, pressing the pads of his fingers more firmly against the scent gland on your throat, where an alpha's mating mark would someday be. "You've never been with an alpha before"
The reminder of your virginity stung. Satoru had been with alphas. He had even gone all the way. He had no issue finding an alpha to spend his heats with.
If things continued at this snails pace; you would end up losing your virginity on your wedding night to whatever alpha your parents managed to find for you. And how embarrassing would that be?
"You've never been with an omega before" You pointed out. When Satoru said nothing, looking away, you faltered. "...have you?"
"No." He said, flippant "I'm not interested in omegas"
"But you just said—"
"I said we" Satoru stressed, as if that was somehow different. "It's not the same if it's you. Duh. You're...you're special. Different. And at this rate, my attraction to alphas fades every day"
A beat of silence passed. Satoru leaned back and straddled your waist. For some reason, your heart pounded inside of your chest. He toyed with the collar of your shirt absently. "If you were an alpha, what kind of omega would you go for?"
"Erm" You said, stupidly. "I don't know? A nice one?"
That made him laugh. "You're so cute" he teased, eyes fond. When you squirmed and looked away, he laughed louder. "Just the cutest. I'm gonna be so sad when an alpha finally takes you away"
Again, there was an odd bit of truth. It was a fear of his, you could sense it. You could not possibly see a world where you and Satoru were not close. You could both be eighty and still sharing the same nest.
"Come on now, Satoru" You murmured, gently massaging his scent gland to let some of his sweet persimmon-peach scent into the room. "You wouldn't lose to an alpha"
He laughed, and all was restored.
"No, of course not" Satoru leaned close and brushed your noses together. You returned the gesture. He moved his head down and your lips hardly brushed together. It happened sometimes. "I'll never let an alpha take you away from me"
When Saturday inevitably came, you found yourself sick with nerves.
No, literally. You woke up from a nightmare and went to spew up last nights dinner into the toilet. You clung limply to the bowl, gasping for air. You skipped work, barely remembering to properly call out (you sounded so awful over the phone that your manager didn't even kick up a fuss).
A pit had formed at the bottom of your stomach. It grew its roots until there was nothing left inside of you but fear for what was to come. Suddenly, your phone lit up with a text. You didn't have to look at it to know that it was from Satoru. Somehow, you just knew.
8.00. Don't be late :) !
You hurled again but nothing came up but bile that burned your throat. You wiped your mouth, flushed and then gurgled a lot of water to regain any fluids potentially lost. You brushed your teeth and forced yourself back into bed. When you woke from your nap (that conveniently lasted the whole day), it was 4:48 PM.
At 5:02, you got out of bed for the second time today and forced yourself into the shower. The water was scalding hot, just the way you needed it. So hot that it bordered on uncomfortable. So hot you couldn't even anxiously spiral about the whole Satoru-Suguru situation. You spent a long time underneath the shower-head, and then even longer sitting butt naked on the floor of your closet, wondering what to even wear.
If you were going. And that was a big if. Technically, you said no. You said you wanted nothing more to do with that. Them. So if you didn't want to go, what could they do? Drag you to their house? Chain you down and force you to stay?
You chuckled bitterly. That didn't seem so far from possibility with Satoru in mind. Suguru at least, had minimum contact with you these last few years. He sent you a happy birthday text once and very rarely liked your story posts on Instagram from his business account.
He wasn't like Satoru—who you suspected had somehow gotten flowers inside your house. Suguru respected your wishes enough to leave you alone.
In the end, you said fuck it, pulling on simple pants and a nice enough blouse (hiding it underneath a light jacket) and left your house with nothing but your wallet, house-key and phone. You weren't going.
Instead, you walked without any real destination in mind. It was a habit you hadn't managed to break. Back in your hometown, you could walk anywhere and eventually end up where you began. There was safety and familiarity in the same places. Whenever you became stressed, agitated, you would just set out walking. The scenery would calm you down.
You didn't think of how much of an easy target you made. An unmated omega without scent patches. It wouldn't be hard for an alpha with the wrong sorts of intentions to find you.
That was how you met Suguru, actually. An alpha with the right sort of intentions; stopping you from ending up on the channel 9 news. Immediately, you scrubbed the memory from your mind. You didn't want to think about him. If there was a way to forget them both completely, you were you would take it.
Eventually, you happened upon a park. It seemed familiar. Maybe all parks were that way—pockets of nostalgia that held the word together in its plastic slides and chain-link swings. You walked the perimeter of it for what felt like a dozen times and collapsed onto the nearest bench with a relieved groan.
Your legs and feet were pleasantly sore. You propped one leg up onto the other and gently rolled your ankle as though it were a ball on a hinge. The bone creaked and popped—maybe this was a sign that you were getting older.
You brought up one hand, fingers massaging the middle of your forehead. A killer headache was approaching. The sound of you greedily inhaling air was the only thing around for what seemed like miles. Until a car pulled up to a screeching stop and killed the engine. It wasn't a model you recognized.
Body frozen with fear, you watched apprehensively as the driver got out of the car and briskly made his way over. He didn't slam the door—that was never Suguru's style. Heart trapped wildly in your throat, you could say nothing when he called out to you.
He said your name again, this time with a familiar expression. His lips thinned and his left brow jumped, before a furrow appeared between them. You felt like a scolded child. It was weird when paired with the fact that when you saw him, you felt relief. Pure, unadulterated relief. You wanted to jump into his arms and let him make everything right again.
Ruthlessly, you squandered that down. Suguru was Satoru's alpha now.
"What are you doing here?" You asked instead, and your voice only sounded slightly winded, which you were proud of.
Suguru glanced around. "This is where you always go when you're stressed out, dear. I figured I'd check here when you didn't show"
The reminder made you want to grind your teeth together. Again with the assumption that you would just do whatever they wanted. Like you hadn't left on your own. Like you haven't survived three whole years, on your own.
"Well tough shit" You heard yourself say. Internally, you preened at the display of strength. At not crumbling. "I said I didn't want to go"
To that, Suguru said nothing. Your eyes bounced on him and away again. You didn't want to oogle him, to see all the ways his appearance might have changed or otherwise stayed the same. You didn't want him to look at you either, but you could feel his eyes sliding over your body anyway.
When he continued to say nothing, you scoffed and stood up. Pain flared in your legs and feet but you refused to show it. Hands shaking, you pulled up the maps app on your phone and quickly typed in the directions to the nearest bus stop.
"Wait, wait" He said, sounding all out of breath. You did not, and put one foot in front of the other. Suguru exhaled a sharp breath (how similar he and Satoru were, in some lights) and grabbed onto your arm. Of course you tried to break free, but there was no beating the natural strength of an alpha. "Let's just talk about this, alright?"
You shook your head, saying nothing. You didn't want to talk. Talking with Suguru was worse than fighting. He had such a way of words. Spinning them in such a way that you got all mixed up and tired—always admitting defeat. Shamefully, you felt tears rising up at the threat of a verbal confrontation with him and harshly scrubbed them away with the palm of your free hand. More tears fell.
A lump formed in your throat as you pushed down a hiccuping cry. Stupid. You were stupid for leaving the house. This whole situation was stupid. You were just a stupid girl who never seemed to learn.
"What are you doing out here, all by yourself?" You heard him ask. Suguru's voice was soft and slightly condescending, as if you couldn't be trusted to make decisions for yourself. "It's late. Your phone doesn't have much battery left to it. What if something had happened to you, dear? Could you really walk nine miles back to your house?"
"How did you–?" You stopped crying long enough to blink your teary-eyed gaze up at him quizzically. You powered on your phone. Just like he said, the battery was pitifully low. Then, you glanced down at your feet. Had you really walked nine miles? You shook your head. That didn't matter. "I can take care of myself. You...you don't have to worry about me anymore"
"I always worry about you" Suguru said, and his face looked perfectly believable.
You tried to scoff, but it sounded weak. And more importantly, it sounded like you were about to cry again. Once more, you tried to tug away from him. He didn't let you—instead crowding too close into your space. Stop, let go of me, you said pathetically quiet , but he cut you off with soft shushing noises.
Suguru pressed your foreheads together. And it reminded you so painfully of Satoru, and the sweet way you always brushed your noses against one another. His eyes were open, unblinking as they bore down on you. Even when you screwed your own eyes shut (which you couldn't do forever, and then opened), you felt his stare keenly.
"Why didn't you come?"
You set your jaw, swallowing thickly. "I...I was scared"
"What's there to be afraid of?" He asked "It's just us"
And therein lied the problem. You felt yourself sighing heavily, trying to resist him. It wasn't worth getting yourself hurt again. You knew that. No matter how badly you wanted to feel loved again, it wasn't worth being passed back and forth between them like a chew toy. But before you loved Suguru, there was Satoru. And he was always impossible to resist.
That's why you needed to get away. And stay away. Because no matter what Satoru did to you, it was impossible to truly hate him. Not when he was so wrapped up in your DNA you couldn't tell where he ended and you began. You spent the past three years shuffling through the motions, hardly living.
You said nothing. Maybe you didn't need to. Suguru knew you well. How many times had you cried into his chest, feeling pathetic and worthless without Satoru there to guide you? Before they even met, he hated Satoru, for what he put you through. You wondered how that worked. Being fated for a person you could only half-stand. Maybe these three years had given the two of them plenty of time to sort everything out.
"It's alright" You heard him murmur. His hand snaked underneath your jacket, unzipping it to expose your top. You feared only for a second what he would do before your inner omega calmed that right down. It was Suguru. Suguru would never do anything to hurt you. His hand pressed against your unbitten mating gland. He studied it silently for a bit, gently tipping your head this way and that to get a better look at it.
Then, without another word, his palm slid to the back of your neck, and he scruffed you.
With a panicked noise, you fell into his chest, breathing hard against the instincts that made you submit to him. It didn't take long at all for that too to die out, leaving you boneless against him.
"I know you don't like being scruffed, honey." You heard him say as he gently hoisted you up into his arms and walked over to the park. "But you can't run away forever. We need you back"
"I le-left..." You slurred; with great effort as he gently deposited your prone form into the passenger side. "I don't...I wan–I wanna go home"
"We are going home" Suguru murmured, buckling you in and kissing your forehead, and again on your slack mouth. "Now sit tight. That'll wear off by the time we get there, don't worry"
You felt sick the entire ride there, like you did this morning. In reality, it couldn't have been longer than 30 minutes. You tried to focus on the scenery, maybe deduce where Suguru could be taking you. But your instincts and mind were all muddled.
Because Suguru scuffed you. Something that alphas did not to reign in their unruly omegas—something that was meant as a last resort. He used the intrinsic trust placed in him by you and he took away your autonomy. You never thought he would do something like that to you.
Your head lolled in the seat as you tried to wait for the effects to run out. Suguru drove with one hand on your thigh; making soft conversation with himself. He didn't seem to mind the fact that the only thing you could get out were incomprehensible little noises.
Just like he said, the effects of the scruffing wore off just as he pulled into the driveway of a luxurious penthouse complex. The sort you would never be able to afford. Your heart dropped right to your ass and when Suguru rounded the car to open the door for you, you fitfully whimpered.
"None of that now," He chided, gently kissing you on the mouth again. You hated how much that relaxed you.
To that, you said nothing, allowing him to hold your hand as he led you inside. The man at the front desk, nor security, seemed to care that there was a fearful smelling omega clutching at one of the alphas. He simply waved a greeting and that was the end of it.
Your body thrummed with nerves as Suguru herded you into the elevator. There was no one else present. A small mercy. Even with the constant touching meant to soothe, you were terrified. You didn't want to be there. You wanted to go home. But you weren't so sure either of them would let you.
At one point (just how high up was this penthouse), Suguru crowded you against the back wall, chuffing into your throat. He didn't seem to mind that your scent stunk of distress. If anything, he just made more soothing noises and rubbed your sides—his own scent smelling completely at ease.
Like this was normal.
The elevator lurched to a stop, and your heart with it. You planted your feet on the floor, a last ditch effort, wildly shaking your head as Suguru made move toward you.
"No, no, I don't—" Want to. You could laugh so hard that you burst into tears. It was clearly obvious that neither of them cared what you wanted. Instead, you tried for a different angle. "He's going to be angry with me"
Suguru glanced at you, and hummed. "Only for a little while" He said, and pulled you out. You could feel the searing warmth of his hand on the back of your shoulders—as if he didn't trust you not to make a break for it at the first chance.
You were completely silent as he led you down the hall. You gnawed at your inner cheek harshly, tasting the copper of blood as he slid the key expertly into the lock. Suguru ushered in you inside with an amused huff and a gentle shove.
Their combined scents slapped you in the face. It was potent, maybe even more so with so much distance and time between you. Even your own place didn't smell this strongly. Openly curious, your eyes traveled around the place.
It looked how you would imagine. Clean, like something out of a magazine. Suguru's work, no doubt. If there was a mess made from dinner, there was no way of knowing. The kitchen was spotless and slightly smelled like cleaning products. The lights were off, save a lamp in the sitting room and a small one over the stove. Satoru was nowhere in sight.
Confused, your steps faltered, clumsily sliding out of your shoes. "Where's—?"
"Here." Suguru said, gentle smile on his face, bangs slightly obscuring his eyes. His hand settled on the small of your back as he once again herded you around. He led you to what you could only assume was their bedroom.
Your stomach churned with nerves. You tried planting your feet again, shaking your head. "W-wait. Wait, I changed my mind. I don't, I want to go home—"
"Ssshh" He soothed, and kissed your cheek from behind. His chest was like a brick wall behind you. He pushed the door open, gently guiding you inside. The door closed behind you both with a click, and the lock sliding into place sounded like the end of any further escape attempts.
Just like the rest of the penthouse, the big lights in the bedroom were killed. There were a couple of floor lamps that illuminated the space into a gentle glow.
And there he was.
Satoru was sitting on a plush chair. He was wearing a large shirt—probably Suguru's, and...a pair of your sheer pajama shorts. You recognized the blue fabric immediately. How long had that set been missing? Why, after three years, is Satoru wearing your lingerie? Why had Suguru kissed you, not once, but twice. Why do neither of them seem to accept the word 'no' for an answer?
The lamp made shadows against his face. He looked sweet, gentle, kind, white hair framing his face as his slender fingers splayed across the book pages. It must have been act. You have never willingly seen him pick up a book. He glanced up at you, and you felt the air around you prickle.
He wore a blank expression. You couldn't tell if he was pissed off or the happiest man on the planet. It wasn't like a couple of days ago—when he saw you and leapt into your arms. Satoru studied you for a few moments, and then tossed the book aside. He waved you over, though not unkindly, somehow, that was worse.
You knew what he expected of you. You turned your head, glanced once more at Suguru. He wasn't going to save you. Not when he wanted the same thing Satoru did. The omega's eyes tracked you as you stepped closer. He widened his legs a bit and sighed pleasurably once you straddled his lap and hugged him.
Of course, three years wasn't nearly enough time for you to unlearn him. Not all of him. You carded your fingers through his hair and let him nuzzle and lick at your chin and cheek.
"I'm really hurt, you know?" Satoru murmured, eyes flickering upwards to meet your own. You said nothing, but nodded to signal that you understood him. "I worked really hard, all week, to make dinner for you. I wanted to make you feel special. And you didn't even show!"
"I'm sorry" You said immediately, because the pout in Satoru's voice was so familiar. As youth, you never did anything truly heinous to him. Your biggest offense was always not giving enough of your attention to him. All you had to do to get back into his good graces was dote on him some, pet his hair and croon about how sorry you were. How you'd always be right where he wanted. "I'm sorry for not showing up, Satoru"
You felt him sag against you at the sound of his given name.
"No you're not" He said suddenly. Terrified, you watched as his expression went from cheery to hard. As if you were nothing. "I don't believe you. You'll leave again. The minute we turn around....you'll leave. You always leave. You're always trying to leave us"
"Ow–ow, Satoru, you're hurting me—"
His hand presses bruises in the shape of his fingertips around your forearm as you foolishly attempt to get up. He quickly follows after you, and the more you fight him, the harder it gets to break your way free. Until you can do nothing but huff, scent tinted with heavy fear and distress.
Satoru's purring now, happy and pleased now that he has you restricted underneath him. He's wrapped himself around you—and the omega is much too tall and gangly for the hold to feel anything but terrifying. It takes great force to relax, trying to project notes of soothing into your scent so that he'll let go of you.
He doesn't. He just purrs louder.
You're forced at an eye level with his mating mark. Only then do you seem to remember that Suguru is still there. His feet sound almost silently as he crosses the room over to the bed. A shadow falls over you both and Satoru lets up only a bit so that you can look the alpha in the eye.
"I get to have her first" Satoru says, voice thin once Suguru attempts to touch. He pulls you in against your chest and restricts your airflow with the strength of it. "Remember?"
"You're going to make her pass out" Comes Suguru's blithe reply, somewhere above you.
Satoru makes a noise of surprise, releasing you all together. You get a handful of seconds max to categorize your positions before everything shifts again as he begins pressing hurried little kisses all over your face. "Lemme make it up to you baby, 'm sorry"
A whimper gets caught in your throat as Suguru maneuvers your form on the bed. You try to fight him, but Satoru pins down your arms as the alpha unbuttons your slacks and pulls them down your legs and then off; tossing them somewhere you can't see.
The omega pulls a face. "I wish you would have worn sexier panties" He says, like he has any right to dictate what underwear you choose. Satoru's fingers find the band and snap them against your hips. Then does it again once you flinch. "Hm. Nevermind. I can sorta see the appeal to these, can't you, Suguru?"
"The simple ones have their charms" He agrees, studying the lower half of your body. "I think the white makes her legs look longer"
Satoru tilts his head and sucks his teeth. "Yeah, you're right. Baby, you've got really pretty legs, you know that?"
Two sets of eyes shift upwards to where you're desperately trying not to cry. You know you should say something. You know you just can't lie there and let them fuck you. But your mind is drawing a blank. Satoru sucks his teeth again and murmurs, why's she upset? And to which Suguru replies, maybe she's tired of you teasing her.
Even if you can somehow get past Satoru and Suguru both, there's no way you're going to escape the penthouse. Much less the locked bedroom door. And what would you do then? Run down to the lobby with no pants on? As you struggle to think of an escape plan (with the dawning horror that there might not be one), the mated pair strip you bare from the rest of your clothes.
Once you're naked and trying to curl up on yourself, you're forced to watch them both makeout. Even when you turn away you can still hear them, Satoru's exaggerated moaning and them swapping spit. It dredges up bad, awful memories. You walking in on them the very first time, Suguru's teeth at his throat, both of them naked from the waist down like they just couldn't wait.
And when Suguru gets a hand on you, rolling you once more onto your back, Satoru snarls and goes—"I get to go first"
"I know that," Suguru says, and has the gall to roll his eyes. "I'm just getting her ready for you, is that okay, you big baby?"
"No" Satoru snaps, petulant. You say nothing, watching with wide fearful eyes, hardly daring to breathe as the alpha and omega regard one another with a series of looks. At last Suguru gives in, hands held up in surrender and Satoru crowds your entire vision, smiling.
"Hi" He says, booping your nose.
"Hello" You reply, sniffling.
"Don't worry, I wouldn't let that brute go first" The omega murmurs, spreading your legs around his waist. Like that's the source of your concern. "You haven't fucked an alpha in a while. I bet his cock would break your poor pussy, wouldn't it?"
The words make it feel more real, suddenly. Satoru is going to fuck you. He found you, tracked you down. Stalker you. Got you to meet him at the cafe with the intention that on Saturday (today), he was going to fuck you. Your omega ex best friend is going to fuck you and his alpha is probably next and there's nothing you can really do about it.
"Please, no, please–" Satoru rolls his eyes, but the words won't stop pouring. "I don't—please. Please don't, Satoru. 'm sorry. I'm not....'m not ready. I can't—"
"Of course you're not ready, silly" The omega says, grinning as he sucks on two of his fingers before bringing them down to your hole. "It's been three years. Did you think I was just going to stick my cock in?"
You try to snap your legs shut, sniffling and whimpering. But Suguru pins down your knees and keeps you spread open. Satoru's fingers are thick, a little longer than what you're used to. They seem to reach deep inside, scooping out most of your coherent thoughts.
It's good, I don't like this, it feels really good, I don't want to do this; I want to go home—
All the while, Satoru shushes your cries, like the sea lapping against rock. Sssh, sssh, sssh. He coos at you, flicks your clit with his thumb to get you wet. Noses along your scent gland and murmurs, "That's it baby, just like that. Feels good, doesn't it? Your omega's makin you reel good"
He seems to have never ending patience. Goes slow until your body feels laden and heavy, pussy noisily sucking in his fingers. Two, then three, Satoru mumbling encouragements while hovering exactly three centimeters away from your face all the while. Reassures you that he isn't mad. Not anymore. Tells you how much he loves you, how happy he is to have you home. How long he's been waiting for this.
It makes you sick. Even worse when the omega pulls his fingers free and you whine, dazedly wanting to feel full again. You don't even try to close your legs again, maybe because Suguru is still there and you know he wouldn't let you. Maybe because you like it and you want Satoru to keep going.
You just lie there, sucking in lungfuls of air and mentally prepare yourself. They'll have to stop sometime, won't they? And then you can leave. All you have to do is endure for a little while, and it'll be over.
Satoru teased you with his cock, smirking. He's more well endowed than what you would expect a male omega to be, but you know from personal experience that Suguru's much bigger. Satoru though, is a little shorter than 6 inches, and pretty girthy. And as much as you hate to admit it, you're glad he's going first.
Because Satoru is right—you haven't had sex with anyone, much less an alpha male, in close to three years. And there seems to be this superstition that omegas are always loose and wet, but that isn't really the case. Of course omegas slick up, but mostly during heat cycles. Outside of that, your pussy is meant to stretch to birth pups, not to take alpha cocks without prep.
"Ready?" Satoru asks, and you bite down on your lip as his cock pushed in. The omega grunts, bucks his hips, and shoves inside all in one thrust. You yelp, legs threatening to snap shut. Satoru smiled smugly against your cheek. "Big stretch, sweetheart, yeah, you can take it. Good girl"
You turn your face into the sheets, keeping your noises trapped behind your teeth as Satoru starts fucking you entirely too quickly. How to describe it? It's unlike anything you've ever felt before. You and Suguru had what most would 'lovemaking'.
He was hardly ever rough with you. It was soft and slow and gentle—like every whispered fairy tale omegan girls told themselves, sighing and simpering amongst their own second gender. This wasn't that.
Satoru was fucking you meanly. Like he was punishing you for leaving even though he swore he wasn't mad anymore. If you moved too much against him, hips trying to get some sort of relief, he would attack your throat, growling lowly until you stopped trying to run.
The noises you tried to bite back escaped, and it was too intense to be called pleasurable, really—it was too much feeling for all of it to feel good. You couldn't describe it, just that your whimpers turned to wails that you were sure others could hear (which only embarrassed you further), hands scrabbling at Satoru's slick sweaty skin.
He delighted in the markings, even if you were sure they had to hurt. He pinned your hips down to the mattress, laving at the skin of your scent gland with his wet tongue as soft, animalistic noises pouring out of his throat.
"We coulda had this the whole time" He grunted, grabbing your chin in his hand and directing your attention back to his face. "Isn't this nice, baby?"
You didn't answer him, you weren't sure you could. A series of strangled gasps left your lips, hand maybe trying to shove Satoru off or pull him closer. "I can't" it's not even higher than a gasp. You register Suguru's hands brushing your hair back. "I c-can't—I can't—please....please"
"Ssssh, it's okay" Suguru, this time. Your eyes lift to meet his, and you realize that your head is pillowed in his lap. You can feel his hard cock jerking against the side of your face, which fills you with disgust. "You're having fun honey, that's all. I know it's a lot. But you're doing so well. I'm proud of you"
You slap your hand over your mouth, mouth making a wild, panicking sound as your orgasm slams into you suddenly like a train. Your vision whites out for a second. You're scared, you've never felt like this before, and you want so badly to go home.
"Yeah, see?" Satoru murmurs, a bit breathless. "We're having fun"
He makes a noise of appreciation, pulling out for a moment to watch your cum trickle out of you in slow trickles before gently, ever so gently, sliding back in again. You make a pained sound, oversensitive, but Satoru just shushes you. He coos, a more omega sound, and that settles your nerves enough to let him continue sliding into your puffy cunt with slow, languid strokes without much protest, save for the occasional whimper.
Suguru suddenly moves. He does not toss your head out of his lap, but he is not all too gentle either. The suddenness throws you off guard, so you miss the look the mated pair share.
Teeth settle over your throat. Instinctively, you suck in a breath, panicked sound caught in your throat, trapped on a plea, right as Suguru bears down and bites. The pain is blinding, and you squeal, to which Satoru easily holds you down, gives a couple of jerky thrusts, and cums.
He rests his head on your shoulder. Both of them do, one on each side. Panting. Hair tickles your neck, your sensitive gland, your face. You join them, caught in a sea of nothingness that seems to bobble as far as the metaphorical eye can see.
You're brought back to the present as someone bites down again. Satoru this time. You don't even struggle. You don't even feel much of anything. Even the pain seems distant. You register him licking the wound clean, followed by the sound of kissing from above.
They marked me, they marked me, theymarkedme how am I supposed to leave–they marked me—
Bonded omegas can't survive without their mates. Not this early. It'll kill you, or the bond sickness will become so bad that death will seem like the merciful thing to endure.
Satoru pulls out. His fingers push his spend back into your cunt. "Hey Suguru?" He says, questioning lilt in his tone. You can feel his eyes piercing into you. "It would be something if I got her pregnant before you did, huh?"
Suguru growls. A proper alpha one that has the hairs raising on your arms and the back of your neck. You start whining, plaintive little noises to try to calm him down—even though you don't care in the slightest. Your mind is suddenly overwrought with alpha mad, alpha's mad at me—
"No, no, not you sweetheart" Suguru murmurs, holding onto your cheek and stroking away your tears with his thumb. "Satoru just got me riled up, that's all"
You can hear Satoru cackling. You try to sit up, body aching. It's hard. Especially when Suguru intercepts the action with a soft, not yet baby—loops that toned arm around your waist and gently turns you over. You find yourself on your hands and knees. Not that the position lasts very long, because he pushes down lightly on your lower back, and you collapse like a house of cards, which delights Satoru greatly.
"Ready?" Suguru asks. Which is pointless. Of course you're not ready. You panic a little in the clutch, whimpering and trying to get away from him, summoning what little fight you have left. All Suguru has to do to put a stop to it is nibble on your mating mark. You turn your face into the sheets with a gasp, breathing in the dank scent of sex as the alpha pushes inside.
He's big. Of course. All alphas are (or so you've heard). Even though you feel like Satoru had fucked you to hell and back already, nothing really quite compares to the way Suguru's cock reaches in deeper, deeper than where Satoru could ever go, and molds your pussy to his shape.
Tears wet your cheeks, and you stile a sob as the alpha bottoms out. He groans, slides out an inch before slamming back in, his balls slapping against your ass.
"I know" Satoru murmurs, sounding almost wistful. You can't tell if he wants to be in your position or if he just wants to fuck you again. Hands that had once pinned you down and restricted your movements now brush the wetness from your face, followed by soft kisses.
"Fuck" Suguru isn't one for cursing. Even in spite of everything, you find yourself thinking, maybe he's changed this way, too. His head must hand forward, because you can feel his hair, like a curtain of ink, sliding over your back.
"Good?"
He nods. You can feel it. The curtain moving. "It's been so long"
"Careful" Satoru says, exposing a hint of teeth. "She was my omega first, and I might get jealous"
"Mmm...I let you have your turn" Suguru replies, running wide hands down the sides of your body. He sounds like he could have been trying for nonchalant, but more realistically, it sounds like he's short of breath.
Maybe it's the bond. Maybe it's just Satoru, who is undeniably closer. But you swear you can feel his breath on your skin.
"Alright, dear" Spittle trickles out of your mouth, and you can only summon a strangled noises as Suguru adjusts your position slightly, notching your hips upwards a bit. His hand rests on the innermost part of one of your thighs to keep you upright. Your eyes meet, or what you can see of him anyway, through blurred tears. "Oh, you really are so pretty. Okay, I'm going to start now"
"Oh, boo" Satoru says, leaning down to literally lick up your drool, kissing your forehead as you attempt to draw back from him. "You never fuck me that gentle"
"You don't like it gentle" Suguru points, and you think he might be rolling his eyes.
You want to protest that this doesn't feel gentle. But Suguru isn't jackrabbiting into your pussy, it's deeper than that. Your hands grip tightly onto the sheets, mewling as he finds your spot with uncanny precision and proceeds to target it ruthlessly. Your mouth cracks open on a moan—and then you just don't stop.
It sounds pornographic. It's made worse with the bond, you think. Suguru's satisfaction scrambles your brain, makes the room feel like it's spinning on a wobbly carousel. It feels like wading into a pool, except the water rushes up far too soon before you're ready, and overwhelms you.
At the bottom of the pool is Satoru. Or perhaps he is the water. Everywhere, inescapable. The beginning and the ends of your psyche. When Satoru fucked you, it felt like entirely too much from the beginning. Too much, too fast, too deep, no time to breathe. It's similar with Suguru, but different too. You don't know which is better or which is worse. All you know is that you want to stop.
There's a shaky cry, a hiccuping gasp that Satoru brushes away as you choke on air, mewling and pleading for mercy. To stop. Neither of them pay you any mind. To them, it's just another part of the fantasy. Your thighs tremble, and then you just...grunt, too exhausted to even move. Suguru adapts brilliantly, follows you down, molds himself to your back, and doesn't let up even for a second.
The bond is chokingly tight. It grips you tighter, and tighter until...
Until everything just goes black.
You wake to the sun shining entirely too bright, a killer headache and an absolutely terrible taste in your mouth. Stomach lurching uncontrollably and body feeling as though you were slammed into a brick wall, you groan and smack your lips; throat scorching hot and dry.
"I know sweetheart," A voice says. It sounds as though it could be nearly angelic. "I bet you've got quite the headache, let me see what I can do about that. Open up"
Dutifully, you crack open your eyelids and pain stabs through your entire form. The voice chuckles.
"Your mouth, darling" Suguru admonishes, playfully. Oh. You do, and small tablets are dropped onto your tongue, followed by a large gush of water to help it all down. Weakly, you guzzle for more, wetting your aching throat. At last, that weird foul taste seems to go away.
Memories suddenly come forward, each one as painful and quick as the last. No, baby, we're not done. You didn't think we were done, did you? With a lurch, your body jerks up so fast that the painkillers (or whatever they were) are nearly thrown up.
"Woah" Suguru whistles "Not too much, too fast. How do you feel?"
Disgusting. Sick. Broken. "I...I don't–not good" You grasp for something. Anything. "Hungry."
The alpha leans in and kisses your forehead. Satoru must feel it through the bond, because you can feel him skimming back. That'll take some getting used to.
"I know, my poor omega" Suguru murmurs "Don't worry. We'll get some food in you soon. Satoru's making breakfast"
That causes your brows to jump to your hairline, even amidst all the pain currently wreaking havoc on your body. Satoru? Cooking? When you were younger you distinctly remembered that he hated anything that could be considered slightly omega-like. Especially since everyone around you framed it as something to be done in service for an alpha.
Cooking, cleaning, babysitting. He refused to do any of it. When he was younger, everyone swore he would grow out of it. He did not. Then everyone just made peace with the fact that his future alpha would have to know what they were getting into, mating an omega as highbrow as Gojo Satoru.
Suguru traced his fingers down the side of the bite, which made your stomach lurch again. "He did it for you; you know? Wanted to impress you. Though if you ask me, I just think he did it so I couldn't take the glory of being the one to make all of your meals"
You're only half listening. Satoru taught himself how to cook. Satoru and Suguru, at some point, must have been thinking about this for a very long time. They knew, somewhere at the back of their minds, that you would not come to them willingly.
Maybe they knew you wouldn't show. That was how Suguru knew how to find you. And then he scuffed you. Fucked you. Both of them. And now there are two burning mating marks on the side of your throat that you can't get rid of.
"I think 'm gonna be sick" You gurgle weakly.
The alpha makes a noise of surprise, and grabs the trashcan just in time for you to hurl into it. He rubs your back all the while, murmurs his little there-there's. Once it's all out of your system, Suguru thumbs away a line of spittle.
"Might have been just a little too rough" He says, "I apologize on both of our behalves. We were...excited"
You squeeze your eyes shut so that you won't cry.
Suguru doesn't wait to see if you'll accept his apology. Maybe he doesn't really care. He got what he wanted from you. The bond flowers, bursts of happiness that take control of your thoughts and whisk them away to a more pleasant place.
One of them....maybe both. They're doing that. They're forcing you to feel good. Not even my thoughts are my own anymore.
"How about a bath?" Suguru says, too close to your face.
"Okay" You say, because what else is there to say.
"Good girl" The alpha responds, and smiles, very obviously happy. He lifts you up (still naked, covered in marks and bruises—and oh god, they didn't stop—even when you passed out they didn't—). "We're going to treat you so well here, darling. It'll be like nothing ever happened, you'll see"
There's a mirror, on the way to the bathroom. You catch a glimpse at the marks marring your throat. Suguru's, deeper, redder, then Satoru's. Like a Venn diagram. The skin between them mottled and puffy.
You lay your head down on Suguru's shoulder. You try to summon the tears to cry, but you can't. It like there's something physically blocking you from those feelings. You wonder how much longer it'll be before you even forget to feel sad and hurt over what happened to you.
As your alpha helps you into the tub, gently scooping the copious amounts of cum out of your cunt, you think to yourself, no one said that mating would make me feel this helpless. It was supposed to be glorious. Magical. Your fairy tale ending. This is a nightmare that you can't wake up from. You feel cheated. You wish you had never accepted Satoru's invitation in the first place.
But really, you snort, and Suguru says, what's funny, quirking his brow and you tell him, nothing. And then you think, realistically, how much longer would you have been to resist them?
Blushing… so I drew it slightly hidden in the corner 😇
Nawal x Pierrot
OC*CANON- The freak circus
PS. Oh, I messed up. I forgot he already took it off. Haha.
The two wolves inside every writer: "this is genuinely the best thing i have ever written. i am gifted. i am changed. this paragraph alone justifies my entire existence on this planet." and then five minutes later, same paragraph: "who wrote this. who allowed this. this reads like a golden retriever trying to describe grief. i need to lie down and reconsider everything." both wolves are always wrong. the paragraph is fine. you need a snack.
