is it cold in here?

24 | MINORS DNI | this blog contains dark fetish content and potentially upsetting themes | the works below are purely fiction and I do not condone this violence or behavior in real life

[lemonbarb]

( favorite neighbor ) perv! neighbor satoru x reader

tw: minors dni, nsfw content, sub reader, dubcon? masturbation, photos w/o consent, fingering, oral, satoru is weird and perverted, but reader lowkey fuccs w it, not proof read and super fast paced, dirty talk, brief mention of hair pulling, satoru is actually delusional/obsessive

synopsis: Satoru isn’t really the going out type. Sure, he’s got friends and a multitude of lovers willing to warm his bed- but none of them satiate his guttural and disgusting fantasies like you do. I mean, what good is smoking and partying when his high takes the form of his irresistible next door neighbor?

pt.2

You’d introduced yourself quickly- prancing onto his porch and knocking on his door just as soon as you finished unpacking. He nearly forgot about his lingering hangover when he’d opened the door to find you and not the usual love struck fool he’d promised forever to the night before. In a blur you tell him your name, ask a few questions about the neighborhood, and then you’re gone. Back to your newly furnished home and tucked away from his prying eyes.

It doesn’t take long for him to find out everything about you.

Your birthday, your niche hobbies, the fact that you just started attending this baking class in the city to make new friends, and oh…jackpot ! you’re single.

- Your relationship starts off innocent enough from your perspective. Satoru is sweet- a little nerdy even. Always waving sheepishly from his porch while you’re tending to your freshly bloomed garden. You wave back, blind to the way his smile turns into a nasty grin- cerulean eyes unabashedly clinging to the curve of your ass while you repot plants, blissfully unaware and oh so cute.

- Satoru hardly gets the door shut before he's dropping his pants and fisting himself to the pictures he’d taken of you- your shirt glued to your body, skin dewy from the sun beating down. You're perfect, but when that’s not enough, ( because it never is ) his phone clatters to the floor and he opts to peak at you through the blinds instead. Chasing a release that wouldn’t come unless he imagined how pretty you'd look panting underneath him.

- there’s a specific spot in front of his window that you'll notice if you squint. the wood is colored just a little lighter than the rest and one could blame it on how often he has to clean it since it's so frequently covered in something that isn’t bleach.

- pervy neighbor Satoru who’s soooo down bad that he stops going out entirely and instead spends his nights with a pair of binoculars. Watching you like the freak he is. One would almost think you wanted him to see you with the way you’re perched in front of your window- legs spread wide, back nearly arching off of the bed as you cum on your fingers with a gasp that he swears he can hear.

- Truthfully, It’s a little concerning how quickly you take over his life. Any relationship he was entertaining before you turns into an after thought. even his friends can hardly drag him out of his little hideout. He claims he's a different man now, that the partying douche Satoru is in the past, but they all know he's sweet on you. I mean, how could he not be? You’re more exhilarating than any club or alcohol, you’re something to hold onto; his.

- It went on like this for awhile- you being so close and yet, so far. It's torture and the only thing stopping him from going insane are his dirty fantasies. Night after night he falls asleep with your name on his tongue like some lovestruck fool and he secretly wonders if this is how his one night stands feel. Hungry for attention. It's denounced quickly though. No one could ever like him as much as he likes you.

- It isn’t until a stormy winter evening that you appear just as suddenly as the first time you came- though this time you're clad in a jacket and soaked through slippers. Teeth chattering and quick to speak, “Hey Gojo...S-so sorry to bother, b—but my power is d-down from the storm and I wanted to see if you had a couple candles or a flashlight I could borrow-"

- He nearly jumps at the opportunity to invite you inside. "Nonsense! Come in, you look cold." You try and argue against it, but he insists that you stay with him...where you’ll be nice and warm and oh so close.

Satoru is a generous host and does a great job at making you comfortable. Well, as great of a job as he can. You bring up the candles again, but he offers you a change of his clothes and a warm shower instead. “You’re too kind, Gojo-" You start once you're downstairs, but he interjects, “Call me Satoru.” A wolfish grin follows as he pats a spot on the couch beside him to make up for the fact that he's been eyeing you like a piece of meat. "And it’s no problem. What kind of man would allow a pretty girl like you to freeze to death?” Your cheeks burn, but you plop beside him anyway- hands buried deep inside the pockets of the sweatshirt he let you borrow.

“Guess this is really the first time we've hung out, huh neighbor?” He jests and you huff out a laugh- not blind to the fact that the two of you had never really talked, which was funny considering that you were familiar in other ways.

“Guess so. Nice place you got here, decorate it all by yourself?” He nods and your conversation continues like this for awhile- surface level things like where you'd both gone to school, your favorite restaurants in town, what music you listened to. In your eyes it was casual conversation, but for Satoru it was a pop quiz. The subject?

You.

He silently ticks off the boxes in his head as you confirm things he already knew and he nearly gets lost in it until you interrupt. “Thanks again for letting me stay. Not sure I’ll ever be able to repay you.” You yawn and stretch, not catching the way he eyes your exposed midriff like a man starved.

“You’ll never have to repay me sweetheart.” He gives you a sweet smile, “Besides. What I want is priceless.” You bristle at that. “Oh, I didn't take you as the collector type. Are you looking for an antique vase or something?" He shakes his head and tilts his head like he knows something you don’t. it makes you tense and wonder if his eyes have always been this piercing. He doesn't respond, only stares and you take that as a cue. “Well,” your head falls back onto the cushions, "let me know if you settle for something with a price tag."

His smile widens, “I'll be thinking about it.”

Luckily, he offers you wine before the silence gets too heavy and you accept it with a gracious smile, not minding whatever nonsense he was spouting about the vineyard it came from. Instead, you focus on how soft his lips look and the way his hair falls over his eyes so perfectly that it almost makes you sick. He's a lot prettier up close, you think.

"You're staring." Thrown out of your trance by his sudden change of tone, you blanch. "Oh- i'm sorry, I was just..." You don't have an excuse and you can feel your face burning in embarrassment. You halfway expect him to scoot away in disgust like any other sane person would do. but he doesn't. Instead he gets closer. way closer, and it’s the way you nervously lick your lips that makes his patience finally snap.

- The next turn of events happen in a blur and the clothes Satoru let you borrow end up thrown across the room. Truthfully though, it’s the least of your worries when he’s buried between your thighs. “Oh my…” You keen as his tongue viciously circles your clit- and god, he’s unrelenting. His moans nearly muffle yours, and it seems like he’s almost enjoying this more than you are. With an iron grip, he pulls you impossibly close, and the way his arms wrap around your thighs leave you stuck with no choice but to lay there and take it.

“Mmmm- such a pretty girl.” He lifts his head up with a pant, long fingers toying with your sensitive bundle of nerves. A line of drool connects your pussy to his swollen lips, and his eyes are glazed over with what can only be described as pure bliss. “Do y’know how long I’ve waited for this day?” He slurs sweetly, though you can hardly focus as the knot in your stomach begins to tighten.

“-since you got here, I haven’t been able to think straight. Haven’t been able to stop watchin’ you. Wishin’ you’d gimme’ a chance.” He sinks a long finger into your pussy and immediately finds that soft spongy spot that makes your eyes roll back. “N’ I’ve been tryin’ to be good…” He adds a second finger. “-but you’re just so fuckin’ pretty.” Your hands cover your mouth in an attempt to silence yourself as he stretches you out, but it's no use. “Satoru, I’m-" just when your orgasm almost crashes over you- he stops and pulls his fingers out with an embarrassing squelch.

You gape at the sudden loss, head spinning as you watch him suck your juices from his fingers with a grin. “Don’t worry, baby, I’m not done.” He undresses before you like he’s done it a million times, fingers catching every button with ease- not an ounce of hesitation in any of his movements. You’re transfixed at the flow of it all until he drops his precum stained boxers.

“…I don't know if I can-” you start , but he cuts you off. “You can! I promise i'll make it fit.” The smile on his face is a stark difference from the way he roughly pulls you toward him until his dick sits right at your slick entrance. A bead of pearlescent cum gathering right at his tip. “I’d let you have a little fun too, but I’m real’ impatient. You understand right?” You don’t get the chance to answer because in the next moment he’s sliding into you with a moan so wanton it rivals that of a porn star.

“F-fuck.” His chest is heaving by the time he bottoms out and your eyes water at the sting of him filing your pussy to the brim. He doesn’t have some monster cock, but the way he bullies his way into you makes you wonder where you end and he begins.

“You like that I’ve been watching you, pretty girl?” He snarls in your ear as he thrusts into you so hard your vision blurs, “Like that I’ve been gettin’ off to your pictures?” The way you squeeze around him is confirmation enough and he lets out mean laugh, “Did you cum to the thought of me peaking through your window, baby?” You can hardly respond as he leans back and manhandles you up and into his lap. His tip kissing your cervix with every slap of your thighs against his. You’re hardly in control of your body and he’s grinning like a man obsessed. “I can’t- please!” You pant, hands pushing at his chest with tears in your eyes.

“None of that.” Satoru corrects and pulls you back down, his lips crashing into yours as you moan. The kiss is nasty, all teeth and spit and passion- it’s raw, but you can’t get enough of it. Of him.

“C’mon,” he urges when he pulls away to grant you air, “You’re a big girl. You can take it.” He gives you a shit eating grin and pinches your cheek, “Besides, dirty girls like you deserve to get fucked till’ they cry. This is what you wanted , right baby? What you imagined when you put on those little shows for me?”

Your mind briefly flashes back to all the times you laid perched in front of your window with your legs spread wide- eyes locked onto the dark silhouette staring back at you with sick, perverted pleasure coursing through your veins.

"You're just as bad as me, sweetheart."

You manage to choke out a whine, eyes rolling into the back of your skull while he hooks his arms under your thighs and pounds into you relentlessly. You don’t even get the chance to tell him you’re going to cum because it slams through you like a tidal wave that leaves your body tense and your jaw slack. Satoru hisses at the way you clench around him, but you’re more focused on the relief the cold tile brings as he flips you over.  Your cheek is pressed firmly against the floor and his fingers yank at your scalp with a mean grip. He’s panting as he drags your hips back into him over and over, and you’re too busy drooling to do anything about it.

- You're not sure how much time passes, but you cum in every position he throws you into. By the time he finishes you’re nothing but a puddle of sweat, spit and tears. His stamina is unnerving, and he’d continue to wreck your pussy until daylight breaks, but you look perfect like this- barely awake and laid out with his cum dripping from your abused cunt.

Click!

- nothing could’ve prepared you for the flash of his phone camera as you tried to come back down to planet earth, “S'toru?” You slur, eyebrows furrowing in confusion- he just grins down at you and pets your hair away from your face, “It’s okay! we’re dating now so it’s not a big deal.”- You’re horrified, but more than that; exhausted. “Dating?” He shushes you and begins to clean you up. Cooing gently about how pretty you looked taking him and about how excited he is to introduce you to his best friend , Suguru.

[envy-of-the-apple]

Unsoulmate

Dark!Geto Suguru x reader -Soulmate AU

word count: 9.1k

Synopsis: You are one of the few people in the world without a soulmate. When your friend finally meets hers, you give her the brightest smile, pretending not to feel that ache in your chest. But her soulmate is a bit strange, and you feel like you're the only one who notices.

(Warnings: yandere, dark content, manipulation, infidelity, rape/noncon, afab reader, tw selfharm(not done to mc))

Unmei was your best friend in the entire world. 

You met her when you two were still learning to read and write. You were neighbors, classmates, practically attached at the hip. There was a running joke in the neighborhood that you two were sisters in a past life. 

She was with you on the night of your 13th birthday, when not a single name scrawled itself in black ink on your wrist. 

You’d cried for days. All you’d ever wanted was a soulmate. Finding out the universe decided you didn’t deserve one was heart crushing. 

Back then, Unmei looked at her own soulmark with disgust. 

“Well, if you don’t have one, then I don’t want a soulmate, either.” She’d declared with a large grin, wiping away your tears. “Besides, Geto Suguru is a stupid name, anyway.” 

Even back then, you knew it was a joke. Not a promise. She just wanted you to cheer up. She wasn’t agreeing to be a spinster with you. 

Still, when she called you with the news, something broke within you. 

“-He’s great! He’s so great!” Her voice crackles through the phone. “I’ve never met someone so kind and gentle. And his face! He’s so handsome. It was love at first sight.” 

She excitedly tells you how they met, how he’d tapped her shoulder in the library, asking if she knew where to find a book. She’d only seen a glimpse of his badge, his name, and then the rest was history. 

The more she talks, the more you sink. You could almost imagine what she looked like as she spoke. Her cheeks would glow with a warm pink. There would be a sparkle in her eye that makes her look younger. It was so selfish of you to drown in misery when she’s so happy. She’s your closest friend. She deserves better than someone so jaded. 

You’re glad she isn’t here in person. You don’t want her to see how bitter you feel. 

You close the hole in your heart with cement and faux delight. 

“He sounds great,” you hear yourself say. 

“When can I meet him?” 

❤︎

You’ve never seen someone so tall before. 

He wasn’t dressed to stand out. The simple, black coat drapes perfectly against his lean figure. His hair is coiled into an elegant bun, showcasing his neck and black earrings. His face is sharp and edged with beauty. 

Unmei tugs him over, looking at him with bright, glimmering eyes. Love. You can see the truth stamped right on her face. 

She slides into the seat across from you. He mirrors her. The whispers and noises within the cafe hush their voices a bit. 

And yet, you can hear his voice clearly. Low and gentle. 

“Did I say it right?” Geto asks right after he says your name. “I’ve heard a lot about you.” Unmei flushes. 

You spot the expensive watch hanging off his wrist as he reaches over to shake your hand. 

“It’s nice to meet you,” he says. 

“Change,” his purple eyes murmur, “the end of it all.” 

The next hour passes with small talk and introductions. Unmei is the main talker, with Geto adding something in every so often. They work well together; you quietly observe, sipping on watered-down iced coffee. They fit. Pieces of a puzzle. Made for each other. 

They are soulmates, after all. 

“-It’s why I wanted you to meet him so bad,” Unmei tells you when you finally tune in again. “You two are so similar! It’d be nice to have all of us hang out sometime.” 

“That would be nice.” Geto nods along before directing his gaze at you. “Perhaps you could bring your own soulmate, too.” 

Your throat tightens. Unmei blanches. You can sense her about to redirect, but you figure it’s best if you bite the bullet now. 

“I don’t have one.” You tell him, forcing your voice to sound light. 

It takes a second for people to understand what you’re telling them–that you’re one of those. You wait for Geto to get that shameful look of pity everyone gets the moment you tell them. You’ve spent years like this, but it never stops stinging. 

No pity. No sympathy. 

He leans forward. His eyes sharpen. 

“Really?” 

You shrug, avoiding his gaze to sip on your coffee. You can still feel his eyes prickle on your skin even after Unmei changes the conversation. 

Hours later, she texts you: sooo what’d you think????

You write exactly what she wants to hear.

He’s perfect for you:) 

❤︎

Your second interaction with Geto happens without Unmei. 

Some days, you liked to wander: turn your brain off, stroll through random shops, admiring the various knick-knacks you could never justify the price enough to purchase. Today, your feet led you into a small bookstore. 

The door alerts to your presence with a cheery jingle. The man at the front spares you a lukewarm smile as you trek into his store. The smell of paper and ink greets your nose. It’s a cozy place. Quiet, a stark contrast to the bustling city just outside. 

One of your favorite authors recently published a new book. You weren’t sure if this bookstore had it, but you told yourself it wouldn’t hurt to check. You scanned the rows and shelves, drifting around the store to see if you could spot it. 

You were so distracted, you didn’t notice him until you quite literally walked into him. 

Hands reach out to steady you. Firm but gentle. You look up as a bundle of apologies is ready to spill from your lips. They die once you look into sharp purple eyes. 

Geto smiles when his hands release your shoulders. 

“Careful there.” 

You reanimate at his voice. You step back, mindful of how close he was. 

“Sorry,” you tell him, “I–I didn’t see you.” 

“I could tell.” His grin widens, and you sheepishly glance down. 

“This is a very welcome coincidence,” he continues, “I didn’t know you liked literature as well.” 

You helplessly shrug, trying not to show your discomfort. It wasn’t that you didn’t like Geto. He seemed like a nice person, but you were not ready at all for a one-on-one interaction with your friend’s new boyfriend. 

“Yeah,” you say when the silence gets too long, “I was just here to see if I could find something in particular…” Just then, your eyes drift up. 

You catch the title just then. It’s sitting quietly on the top shelf, leering at you. If only you’d found it sooner, it seems to goad at you; you wouldn’t be stuck in the most awkward situation in the world. 

Geto catches your gaze. He glances up at the book. 

“Is that the one?” He asks. 

You nod. He reaches up and lifts it from its respective spot. You expect him to hand it over immediately, but he seems more interested in examining the cover. 

“That sounds interesting.” He comments before handing it to you. “Would you recommend it?”

“I haven’t read it yet.” You admit. “But I’m a big fan of the author.” 

He hums in acknowledgement. That’s when you notice his own stash of books he had tucked under his arm. 

“You’re a horror fan?” You ask.

“Not particularly,” he admits. “I just wanted to branch out. My friend is a huge horror fan. These were mostly his recommendations.” 

You nod. “Unmei also likes horror. The genre at least.” You blab on. “Back when we were in high school, she’d force me to watch all sorts of slasher movies, and then she’d get so scared she’d beg me to let her sleep over.” 

On those days, you’d wake up to her snoring all over your pillows. Later, when you teased her about it, she’d laugh it off with red all over her face. 

Those days were tinged with nostalgia–back when it was just you and Unmei.  

You expect Geto to appreciate the snapshot of his soulmate’s past. That’s why he’s making small talk with you in the first place, right? To get to know her better.

Something flickers across his eyes. It was barely a moment before his face changed to deep sincerity, but you caught it. 

Boredom. 

You were stumped. How could someone be so blatantly uninterested in their soulmate? Or maybe it was you he couldn’t care less about? Or perhaps you just imagined it entirely? 

You feel like you should confront him about it. 

“Sorry,” you say instead, “ I need to head out now.” 

“Of course.” He immediately steps aside to let you pass through the cramped shelves. 

You expect that to be the end of it, but you can hear his footsteps behind you. 

You almost considered abandoning your book entirely, just so you could escape the bookstore. Instead, you flash a tense smile at the cashier, who beams back. 

“Find everything okay?” He asks. 

“We did,” Geto tells him cheerily. He stands right next to you. You can almost feel the coat he wears brush against your shoulder. 

Sometimes you wish you weren’t so nonconfrontational. Maybe you would’ve fought a bit more when Geto casually plucks the book from your loose grip, placing it on top of his own stack. 

“All together, please.” He tells the cashier, before he turns to you. “I got it.” 

“No, it’s fine.” You’re finally able to speak up. It’s too late. The man is already grabbing the bag and saying his regards to the worker behind the counter. He holds the door open for you. 

You meekly thank him. 

“I can pay you back.” You immediately say. 

Geto shakes his head. “It’s fine. Think of it as a gift.” He hands your book into your twitching hands. “A token to the start of a good friendship.” 

You had this bad habit of feeling indebted to someone if they paid for you, to the point where you would bend backwards for them if they asked. 

Something tells you that being in that situation with Geto is a terrible idea. 

You still accept, thanking him as sincerely as you can. 

“That reminds me.” Geto continues, pulling out his phone. “We should exchange contacts. We do share a favorite person after all. It would be wise to keep in touch.” He tells you with a steady grin. 

Your stomach flips. You don’t want to. You genuinely don’t want to. 

But the book is heavy in your hands. 

When Geto offers to walk you to the station, you finally gather the courage to decline. You thank him repeatedly for his kindness, slipping away before he can coax you into doing anything more. 

He was nothing but polite to you 

Kind even. 

But there’s something so horribly wrong about Geto Suguru. 

—

Geto and Unmei moved fast. 

They became an official couple one week after they met. Two months later, Unmei moved into his place. 

They moved fast, as most soulmates do. After all, if two people are destined to be together forever, why wait? Why not get the hard part over with first so you can enjoy forever more? 

At least, that’s how you saw it. 

The party was subdued but extremely upscale. Geto’s apartment was something else entirely. Luxurious floors with open spaces. When you looked outside the spotless glass, you could see the glimmering lights of the city far beneath your feet. 

You felt like you could fall through the glass and crash into those lights. You’d shatter into a million pieces, twinkling like the stars above. 

“Would you like another drink?” A voice asks. 

You glance up. Nanami Kento’s eyes remain on you. You suddenly remember what you were doing. 

You look down at your cup—just water. You were driving home tonight. “I’m fine, but thank you.” 

Nanami nods, taking a swing of his own cup. The amber-colored liquid swirled around the glass. 

Out of all of Geto’s friends, you think you liked Nanami the most. He was quiet, straightforward, polite, and a complete gentleman. He was one of you, you later found out—someone with un inked wrists. When Unmei dragged him across the room to ‘keep each other company’, you thought it was another one of her schemes. 

Well, it definitely still was her scheme, but you didn’t mind it too much. Nanami was good company. He was much more preferable to Geto’s other friend. The tall one with blue eyes and white hair. The one that kept staring at you like he knew something you didn’t. 

“So how do you know Geto?” You ask.

His lips thinned. You almost smile. 

“Old classmates.” He tells you. “He, along with a couple of others, was in the grade above me.” 

He seemed exhausted even thinking about it. You wonder how wild his upper-level students were.

“What about you and Unmei?” He asks after a bit. 

You hide your smile behind your glass. 

“We were practically raised together.” You start. “Attached at the hip, ever since we were kids.” 

You two used to plan your weddings together. She wanted her kid to marry yours. Every day you were at each other’s houses. Every weekend was slumber parties and sleepovers. 

When kids used to mock you for not having a name, she was the one who defended you. She was the one who chased off bullies and wiped away your tears. 

She’s been in your life all your life. You can’t remember a time she wasn’t. 

“Hm,” Nanami comments, “you two sound close.” 

“We are,” you agree, even when you can taste the uncertainty on your tongue.

She stood a little way away. Unmei looked borderline unrecognizable from the one you knew just a few months ago. Her hair was pushed up from her face, a stark contrast to the looser hairstyles she used to prefer. Her dress was sleek and glamorous. She probably wore hundreds of dollars on her wrist. She blended right into the elite group she was currently laughing with. 

Nanami keeps talking about something. You hum along, unable to take your eyes off of her. You keep watching until you can’t anymore. 

Sometime later, you find yourself on the balcony. The murmur of the crowd has dwindled behind you. It’s cold, you didn’t bring a jacket. There are goosebumps littered across your arms, but you don’t want to go inside yet. You’re not sure if you can continue looking at Unmei as she changes into something you can’t reach anymore. 

There it was again. That bitterness. The guilt washes it down all over again. 

Footsteps. Someone takes their place right next to you. At first, you think it’s Nanami’s attempt to restart the conversation. 

Geto leans over the railing, watching the city below. 

“It’s a pretty view, isn’t it?” He asks, voice gentle and soft. “It’s a huge reason why I bought this place.” 

You flex your fingers. The air suddenly gets colder. 

“Yeah.” You give, listening to the muted sounds inside. “It’s beautiful.” 

That’s the truth. The city lights twinkled and buzzed with life. Part of you wanted to sit there and count each one. You might be stuck there for years. 

“It’s even more beautiful in the mornings,” Geto continues, “there’s a gentle fog that covers the city, and the horizon is this pale pink. I really hope you see it one day.” 

You shift, a bit uncomfortable by the confession. You’re sure he doesn’t mean anything by it. 

“You have a lovely home.” You finally say. “It’s very beautiful. I’m sure you're ecstatic to share this with Unmei.” 

A genuine smile lifts your face as you think back to the times Unmei gushed about meeting her future soulmate. She’d planned everything: the house, the car, the dog. You’d sat there quietly, listening, just happy to be in her life. 

“I bet you must have waited years to finally meet her.” You tell Geto as you admire the view. “You’re a very lucky man.” 

You expect a laugh. You expect a bashful acceptance. 

“I never wanted to meet my soulmate, initially.” 

For the first time in the conversation, you truly look at Geto. He’s staring right back. His purple eyes are darker in the dim lighting. They’re almost a muddy brown. 

“When I was younger, I had a grim opinion of soulmates.” His jaw tenses. You catch the movement. “The idea of having someone I was tied to by fate used to sicken me. It felt like control. It felt like something cosmic wrote out my future, and I was entirely helpless to it.” 

You can’t pull your eyes away. Whatever you were hearing, no matter how jarring, felt honest. You were drawn to it–a bee to a flower.

“I think now, I’ve mostly changed my mind.” He shrugs. “The bond isn’t truly control. Rather, it’s a path, guiding us to something far more desirable.” 

You blink. What could you say to that? 

Thankfully, Geto doesn’t let you fluster for long. He steps ever so slightly closer. It’s already too close, but you can’t move. You’re stuck in your spot. Paralyzed. 

“And, if anything.” He leans down, voice suddenly hushed. “I’d consider you the lucky one.” 

“Me?” 

He smiles. Amusement laces his lips. Long fingers reach for your arm. He slowly turns your hand, showing your blank, un-inked wrist. 

“Yes,” he tells you, “this is truly lucky.” 

You see it then. It flashes right across his purple eyes. 

Jealousy. 

It’s so hateful, it nearly makes you panic. You stumble back, out of his hold. The meeker part of you urges you to run. As far as you can. Run before–

“Are you alright?” 

Concerned sincerity etches across Geto’s face as he reaches out to stabilize you. Hands press on your shoulders before they slip away. 

You avert your gaze. 

“I’m fine.” It’s too sharp. You force yourself to soften your tone. “I guess it’s a little chilly out.” 

Geto barely wastes a moment. He slips off his jacket and settles it onto your shoulders before you can protest. His cologne clings to the leather. The smell of sandalwood and cinnamon. 

“Keep it.” He stops you when you try to take it off. “Stay out here and enjoy the view a bit more. It’s truly breathtaking.” 

You watch as he slips back inside, playing the perfect host to his guests. The air is still cold, but you can finally breathe again. 

Later that night, Suguru gets on one knee and proposes. 

Unmei says yes. 

❤︎

There’s a way to reject the soul bond. You’ve seen it happen exactly once in your life. 

You were fourteen, watching from the stairs as your mom comforted your next-door neighbor. She was one of the unlucky ones. Her soul bond was filled with nothing but rage and possession. You could see the evidence of it on the bruises on her soft skin. The swelling black eye. 

She kept mumbling something of how sick she was to be tied to him. How she’d rather have no soulmate than one so vile. Your mother kept hushing her, insisting on calling the police, letting her stay the night. 

She’s not listening. It’s like she’s in a trance as she rises on two shaky feet, drifting towards the kitchen. You find yourself following. 

She pulls out a knife, and your mother screams when she digs into the ink on her own wrist. 

She stopped bleeding before the ambulance arrived. There’s a gigantic smile on her face the entire time she’s talking to the paramedics. 

You’ve never seen someone look so free before. 

❤︎

Planning a wedding takes time and money. It’s a good thing that Geto is swimming in the latter. 

The restaurant is upscale and practically swathed in elites. You feel very much out of place with your dress that probably wasn’t even worth the cheapest thing on the menu. Geto assured you plenty of times that this was his treat. Ever since the proposal, you’d been swamped in wedding preparations. This dinner was supposed to be a thank you. 

Tonight is a celebration of two people. 

You, the maid of honor. 

And Gojo, the best man. 

The two of you sat across from the engaged couple. Unmei was beaming the entire night. The ring was glistening on her finger. You’ve seen it all over her social media, not to mention the hours she spent gushing about how perfect the ring and the proposal was. 

But you remembered she hated cluster rings. She used to call them tacky. And she’s told you her perfect proposal over and over again. She’s always wanted it somewhere outdoors, where they’re alone and surrounded by nature. 

The complete opposite of how Suguru did it. 

“I can barely sleep.” Unmei gushes to you while the two men continue their own conversation. “The wedding is still two months away, but I can barely sleep.” 

You give her a comforting smile, taking another sip of your water. Dinner was already eaten, but you hadn’t tasted a single thing. It felt like cement sludge down your throat. 

“I bet that’s normal,” you say, “It’s your day. You should be excited.” 

“Most nights I just dream about flower arrangements.” She frowns before she sits up again. “Shit, the flowers. Please tell me you—“

“Don’t worry, I already booked the florist you were talking to,” you immediately coddle. “Everything is going to be perfect.” 

She visibly relaxes, leaning back in her seat. “Only because you’re here.” She tells you. “I only got this far ‘cuz of you, y'know that?” 

You smile. Her face brightens. 

“Oh!” She exclaims. “Are you planning on bringing anyone? Someone special?”

The two men gradually quieted. You arch your brow. 

“Probably not,” you say, “besides I’ll have a lot of stuff to do on the day of. I won’t have time for a date.” 

“What about bringing Nanami?” She pipes up. “I’m sure he can entertain himself while you’re busy.” 

Someone’s gaze stings your skin. You ignore it. 

“Why would I bring him?” 

She scoffs. 

“Don’t act like that.” She chides. “I saw how into you he was at the party. Please tell me you got his number.” 

You did. And you two text every now and then. Non-soulmates are rare, so even if you don’t end up in a relationship, it’s nice to keep in touch. 

“Nanami?” Geto echoes, finally making it known that he was eavesdropping. 

Unmei turns to him with a smile. “I introduced them a while ago. Aren’t they just perfect for each other?" 

‘Is she saying that just because neither of us has soulmates?’ You try not to feel so harshly about it. 

Geto smiles, but it lacks any warmth. 

Gojo turns to you. 

“I didn’t know you met Nanami?” He sports a wide grin. Almost like a sneer. 

You shrug. “We talked for a bit sometime back.” 

“I feel bad for you. I know I’m not supposed to talk crap about my juniors, but that guy is so boring.” He rolled his eyes. “He was even worse in high school, if you can believe that.” 

“I didn’t think he was all that bad.” You counter. 

“Ah, I get it.” Gojo nods. “You’re into the quiet, studious type of guy.” 

You shift in your seat. “It’s nothing that dramatic.” You respond. “He was just really nice.” 

“Hm.” Gojo takes a swing at his glass. “I guess I see wedding bells in your future, then.” 

“Satoru.” 

Geto’s voice is clipped. His eyes have shadows. Gojo puts his hands up in an ‘I surrender’ motion. There’s a lazy smile on his mouth. The atmosphere is so strained that even Unmei’s smile weakens. You take another sip of your water. You really wish you’d ordered something stronger. You had no idea tonight would be this tense. 

Unmei quickly turns the conversation to something else. She brings up more wedding plans. The rest of the night is spent ignoring the elephant in the room. 

Sometime after that, you and Gojo end up outside the restaurant, alone. Unmei and Geto are still sorting out the bill. You spot them lingering inside. Unmei is talking animatedly to a waitress. Geto is scrolling on his phone. 

You don’t have much in common with Gojo, and you’re happy to keep the silence as the two of you wait. He, however, doesn’t seem to share your thoughts. 

He leans over as you watch the engaged couple. 

“So, how long do you think they’ll last?” 

You glare up at him. He grins. 

“That’s not funny.” You immediately rebuff. “Why would you say that?” 

Satoru shrugs. 

“C’mon, you can’t say you’re the tiniest bit doubtful they’ll stay together, right?” 

You shake your head.

“They’re soulmates,” you respond. Their companionship was written in the stars from the start. They are a certainty. “It’s tradition.”

“Soulmates don’t always stay together,” Satoru says, “and Suguru isn’t one for tradition.” 

You say nothing. Gojo only takes it as a sign to pester you further. 

“Wanna make a bet with me?” 

You narrow your eyes at him. 

“I’ll bet all the money I have that they’ll break up right before the wedding.” He thinks for a moment. “Maybe on the day of: Suguru loves being dramatic.” 

Your lips curl into a sneer. 

“I thought you were supposed to be Geto’s friend?” 

What kind of person bets their friend’s relationship will fail? 

“I am his friend,” Gojo argues. “I’m only saying this ‘cuz I know him so well. No offense to your bestie, but she’s not his type.” 

“No.” He tilts his head, studying you. “He prefers someone a bit more…docile.” 

You shift, trying to hide your discomfort underneath his gaze. 

“They’re coming out.” You watch as the couple shifts closer. “Please don’t tell them you’re betting they’ll break up.” 

Gojo laughs. 

“Aye, captain.” 

❤︎

Unmei stumbles into your apartment at 1 am. 

You’d forgotten you’d given her a spare key. When you woke up to muffled footsteps and murmurs, you thought someone was robbing you. The influx of emotions you felt as you rushed out with a baseball bat, only to discover your friend draped across your couch. 

Your very drunk friend draped across your couch. 

“Unmei?” You shake her shoulder. 

She barely moves. You do it again. She finally groans. 

“Hi.” She rasps out. Her throat is groggy with exhaustion and alcohol. 

“How…” You try to find the proper words. “How did you get here? Did you drive?” 

“Uber.” She murmurs. “Sorry…I…sorry. Didn’t–didn’t wanna go back. Didn’t wanna see him.” 

Her words are stilted, but you think you’re starting to get the picture. 

“Did you and Suguru get into a fight?” You ask gently. 

She laughs. It sounds bitter. 

“You have to talk, to fight.” She tells you, and you want to press her on that, but she’s talking again. 

“Suguru’s sad you don’t like him.” 

“What?” You lean closer so you can hear her properly. 

“Suguru–” She snuggles deeper into your couch”--he’s sad you don’t like him. Why do you not like him?” 

“I like him.” You try to smile. “Of course, I like him. Why wouldn’t I?” 

Her eyes are open. The way she stares at you makes your defenses weaken. 

“I don’t know, Mei.” You eventually respond. “He’s always rubbed me the wrong way. I…I just find him a little weird.” 

You want to tell her about the strange quips Geto’s made. The stuff Gojo said at the restaurant still eats at you. You want to tell her all of those things. 

Unmei doesn’t let you. 

She sits up so fast, you’re almost worried for her. You’re about to tell her to be more careful, but then you notice the look in her eyes. 

Spiteful. 

It’s directed solely at you. 

“Are you fucking joking right now?” She spits out. “My soulmate is going out of his way to be nice to you, but you’re calling him weird?” 

You have to back up as she stumbles to her feet. Her words are slurred and hard to decipher, but the intent is as clear as day. 

“He doesn’t even like you.” She rants. “Why would he? For fuck’s sake you don’t even have a soulmate, and now you’re calling mine weird? You’re jealous. You’ve always been jealous of me, and I’m so sick of doing charity work.” 

You blink. It feels like your heart’s been torn in two. 

“Unmei…?” It’s the only thing you can even think to say to someone who you thought loved you. Tears well in your eyes. 

Unmei knows how sensitive you are about soulmates. She always knew. As bad as your fights got in the past, it’s the one line she hadn’t crossed. 

Until now. 

She realizes what she said. Unmei slumps almost immediately, fully breaking down. 

“I’m sorry.” She blubbers. “I–I’m so sorry, I just.” 

You push aside your feelings as you always have to accommodate hers. She buries her face in her hands. Her shoulders shake. When you wrap your arms around her shoulders, she easily leans into your warmth. 

“I shouldn’t have said that.” She sobs. “I’m sorry.” 

“It’s okay.” It’s not. “You’re having a bad day. Just sleep it off, okay? We can talk in the morning.” 

She says nothing as you leave her on the couch. Minutes later, you return with a blanket, gently settling it over her still body. 

“I saw him with another girl today.” 

You freeze. Unmei stares blankly at the wall. 

“He barely talks when we’re alone. He never talks. I don’t even know why I followed him, but I saw them together. They got into his car.” Her voice cracks. There’s a muted voice in the back of your head to comfort her. 

You don’t move. 

“I don’t know what they did. I…I just don’t know. That’s part of his job, right? Sometimes he takes his clients out to dinners and stuff.” 

She looks up at you. “And–and everything’s so different when we’re alone. He’s so much warmer with you. Whenever we plan something, he’s always asking if you want to come along too. I just don’t get it.” 

The apartment is quiet. Distinctly, you can hear a clock faintly ticking somewhere. 

“Do you think he’s cheating?” You ask. 

“Do you think he would?” Unmei asks right back. 

You think of being honest. You think about telling her you genuinely don’t know. Then, you remember the anger in her voice just minutes prior. The hurt is still fresh on your mind. It’s instinct to cower and placate after you’ve been burned so harshly. 

Just like always, you tell her exactly what she wants to hear. 

“Of course, he’s nice to me.” You hear yourself say. “He probably feels bad for me.” Because you have no soulmate.

“Unmei, you don’t see the way he looks at you.” Does he ever look at her? 

“He can’t stop talking about you.” You can’t remember a single conversation you and Geto had about her. 

“He loves you. I’m sure of it.” Are you? 

A shy smile creeps up on her face. You can feel yourself shatter. 

“Really?” She asks. 

You settle beside her, squeezing her fingers. 

“Trust me.” Words feel like sand on your tongue. “You are going to make each other so happy.” 

She’s smiling. You think you’re smiling too, but you’re not sure of anything anymore. 

She closes her eyes again. You sit there for a few minutes. When you think she’s asleep, you get up to leave, but her voice stops you. 

“I thought she was you.” 

“You what?” You ask. 

She nuzzles the blanket closer to her face. 

“The girl. I thought she was you, but she wasn’t. She looked like you. It was the weirdest thing.” 

You think she’s about to say more. She doesn’t. 

The next day, Unmei acts as if nothing had happened. She’s laughing and talking during breakfast. You still think about what she said, hours after she left. 

❤︎

The week before the wedding, you finally decide you no longer want to be friends with Unmei. 

You don’t hate her, you could never hate her, but it’s clear you might’ve valued your friendship differently than she did. 

You don’t think you want to boycott the wedding entirely. It’d taken months to plan. The money was already spent. You don’t want to ruin her big day. 

But you don’t think you’ll be taking her calls as frequently. You don’t think you’ll drop everything for her anymore. 

For now, you just want a bit of distance. 

Now that you’ve decided to no longer prioritize her, your life is slowly becoming easier. Instead of doing everything yourself, you’re delegating tasks to the other bridesmaids. You actually make time for yourself instead of fizzing with nerves by the phone, wondering when she’ll call you to her side. 

You can finally breathe again. 

But old habits die hard.  

I need you. Please come.

Unmei texting you in the middle of the night wasn’t a huge issue. But she never sends you this type of message. Formal, short, panicked. 

You stare at the words, reading them over and over again. You promised yourself you wouldn’t do this again. 

But what if she needed you? 

You’ve been to Suguru’s apartment a few times after the party. It was mostly to pick stuff up or help Unmei. There’s usually a lively atmosphere with warm lights. 

Tonight, as you tap on the door, you can’t help but notice how cold the atmosphere feels. 

He doesn’t leave you waiting. Geto opens the door with a pleasant smile on his face. His grin widens when he locks eyes with you. 

“Come in.” Geto pulls the door back. 

You hesitate, but eventually you step in. Not much has changed since your last visit. There are fresh flowers in a vase. Something’s cooking in the kitchen. Still, the apartment feels emptier, somehow. 

“I wasn’t expecting you.” Geto smiles. “This is a pleasant surprise.” 

You give an awkward smile, shifting your weight. 

“I’m sorry, I won’t be here for long,” you tell him before shifting your gaze to the bedroom, “Is she in there?” 

Geto tilts his head. 

“Are you looking for Unmei?” He slowly asks. 

When you nod, he shakes his head. 

“She headed out for her bachelorette party hours ago.” 

For a moment, you thought you misheard him. 

“Her what?” 

“Her bachelorette party. I’m so sorry, I assumed you were with her. It’s why I was surprised you showed up.” He admits sheepishly. 

“Bachelorette party.” You repeat. 

She told you she didn’t want a bachelorette party. She called it a cliché. And now, when you decide to put your feelings aside and reach out, you find out she left you in the fucking dust as she enjoys her night. 

You were so fucking done with her. 

“Right.” Your throat feels tight. “Ok, then…I should go.” 

A firm hand on your shoulder stops you from walking out the door. Geto stares at you with an empathic frown on his face. 

“You shouldn’t leave like this.” He urges. 

You try to pull away. His grip barely budges. 

“Geto, it’s fine–” 

“You should eat something at least. It’d be rude to send you away after you’ve been such a good friend to my fiancé.” 

That stung even though you know he didn’t mean it like that. 

“Okay.” You relent. “Just for a bit.” 

He smiles. 

“Oh, and call me Suguru from now on.” He suggests. “I think we’re close enough to drop the formalities, right?” 

Suguru manages to get you to sit at the dining table. It was already set for two. A little while later, he comes back with two plates and a bottle of wine. 

The food smelled delicious, but it tasted like ash in your mouth. You couldn’t find it within yourself to enjoy it. Betrayal made everything taste like nothing. 

You don’t consider yourself a drinker, but Geto manages to refill your glass twice throughout the night. 

Eventually, Suguru acknowledges the elephant in the room. 

“Did you two fight?” 

That actually made you laugh. It’s harsh and bitter. You gulp down the last of your wine. 

“No,” you say, “I just didn’t fall to her feet this one time.”

That’s all you were for her. Not a friend. Not a companion. You were just some pet she could keep at her side. Bark when she said bark. Sit when she said sit. Roll over when she said. She was treating you like a dog who forgot a trick or two. You feel so pathetic. 

You’re so upset, you have to stand up. Suguru only watches you pace back and forth. 

“I’ve put up with her bullshit for months, y’know?” You don’t think you’re talking to him at all. You’re just ranting. “Whatever she wanted, I got her. I’ve spent hundreds of hours planning her perfect day with her. And yet, the one time I give an opinion, she immediately blows up at me and–and says all this awful shit, and I have to forgive her.” 

Suguru rises with you, blocking your path. You look up at him. He’s blurry from all the tears in your eyes. 

“She’s stressed with the wedding,” he tries to console. “I’m sure she isn’t trying to do any harm.”

You shake your head. Somehow, you find yourself sitting on the sofa. Suguru’s joined you. You can still taste the wine on your tongue. You’re drunk. You’re erratic. You’ve stopped giving a fuck. 

“What about the stress she’s putting me under?” You argue back. “I tried to be a good friend to her, and she constantly treats me like garbage. And it’s all because I don’t have a soulmate? When has that ever mattered for her?” 

Unmei had always protected you from anyone who mocked you for being incomplete. Other. She was your shield. 

You can still remember her voice ringing through your head. The hatred. You’ve always been jealous of me, and I’m so sick of doing charity work. 

You bury your face in your hands. 

“All I ever wanted to do was be there for her.” You sob into your fingers. “Why is she shutting me out like this?” 

You wanted to go back to how things were months ago. Back when you had someone so close, it felt like having a sister. Back before–

Suguru gathers your limp form in his arms. The scent of sandalwood and cinnamon overwhelms your senses. 

“You poor thing,” he coos, and you melt into his calming words because you’ve never felt more alone in your life. “It must have been so very hard on you.” 

You don’t know how long you sit there, snuggled into his chest, crying your heart out. It feels like minutes pass before your tears stop flowing, and your breathing slows down. 

He pulls you away from his chest. You follow. You’re still heartbroken, but now you’re embarrassed for crying on your best friend’s fiancé’s shoulder. You look up, opening your mouth to apologize. 

Suguru’s lips meet yours. 

It’s barely a brush. You feel his fingers caress your cheek before you pull back. 

“What are you–” your voice dies in your throat “What–” 

“You want to feel better, don’t you?” He asks, voice terrifyingly gentle. “I can help with that.” 

Your mouth opens and closes like a fish. When he tries to touch you again, you jump up. 

“I didn’t…I never…” Your mind is spinning. You don’t know what to say. 

“She’s your soulmate.” It’s the only thing you can think to say. “How–how could you think of doing that to your…”

Suguru tilts his head. 

“We both know how stubborn she can get.” He speaks slowly, as if he were speaking to a child. “Look at how much you do for her. You are constantly bending over backwards. Aren’t you tired of doing all this charity work? Don’t you want someone else to take care of you for a change?” 

Something clicks in your mind. 

Charity Work. Unmei’s words, but that didn’t sound like her at all. 

It sounded more like something Geto Suguru would say. 

“It’s you.” Something cold splashes across your spine. “You’ve been putting a wedge between Unmei and me for months.” 

He’s tried separating you from her as soon as he walked into Unmei’s life. All this time, he was speaking cruelties into her ear about you, manipulating her, turning her against you. 

And Unmei fell for it because she thought her soulmate could never hurt her. 

Suguru stands up. His smile is gone. You’ve never seen him like this before. You’ve seen him upset, bored, amused. This is different. 

Every emotion on his face is gone. It’s like he’s stone. 

He calls your name. It’s a warning. You don’t heed it. 

“No, no,” you hiss out, “I don’t know what sick game you’re playing, but I’d never break her heart like this, no matter how angry I am at her. I’m not like you.” 

You start for the door. You needed to find Unmei. Fuck the petty fight. Fuck everything. You needed to find her and explain everything to her so that things could return to normal. 

You never make it to the door. 

There’s a harsh grip on your wrist. Before you can even struggle, you’re flung back against the couch. You collapse on top of the stiff pillows. 

Suguru’s quick to cage you in. Within moments, he’s trapped you underneath him. A hand reaches up to trap both of your wrists. His body is right in between your legs, pressing himself right up to you. 

You kick. You scream. A hand clamps down on your mouth. 

Suguru waits patiently as your rebellion tapers out. You lie underneath him, panting and utterly defeated. 

A tear trickles down your cheek. He wipes it away, adoration at his fingertips. It makes you sick. 

“I really wanted our first time to be romantic.” He sighs, genuinely sounding disappointed. “I spent the entire day planning our little date. And then you had to get all hysterical.” He clicks his tongue. 

“I think you’re spending a bit too much time with my fiancé, Dear.” 

You flinch at his words. He grins. 

“At the same time, I can’t say I’m not happy with how the night ended.” He releases your mouth. You prepare to yell again. “You can scream if you want to, dear. I’m sure you’d like the whole floor coming by to watch me fuck you. I don’t mind an audience.” 

Horror rushes down your body. 

“What do you mean?” Suguru says nothing, leaning back to release his tie. “Geto-Suguru,” you beg. “You can’t really mean that. You can’t do this. What about Unmei? What about your soulmate?” 

“I thought I told you this already.” He wraps the tie securely around your wrist before considering you. 

“Soulmates are paths, guiding us to our true destination.” 

He presses his forehead to yours. You lay there, utterly helpless, staring into his purple eyes. 

“Through her, I was able to find my true other half.” He confesses. “Someone that perfectly fits me.” 

If he were another man, if he had another name, you might have fallen in love right there. 

But this man has your friend’s name written on his wrist, and it makes you want to vanish into the Earth. 

He rises back up with a grin. 

“What can I say? I’m a romantic at heart.” 

You’re shaking your head as he reaches down for your shirt. It’s pulled off of you within moments, revealing your bare flesh. Your skin trembles against his fingers as he explores the skin on your stomach, pushing his hand up until it reaches the bottom of your bra. 

Your tits are exposed to the cold air as he grabs them. Curious. Exploring. Nausea builds in your stomach. 

“You should relax, love.” He urges as his hand travels down. “You could make yourself sick from all that crying.” 

He acts as if he cares for you, even when you know he couldn’t care less. You can feel his heat pressing up against your thigh. It’s a blunt foreshadowing of his true desires. 

The silk against your wrists tightens every time you move. The wine isn’t helping either. You feel sluggish, almost feverish. You lie there, completely limp, watching as he picks at your pants. They don’t have much of a fight before he’s dragging them off your body completely, leaving you with just your cotton panties. 

The cold settles on your bare thighs. A large hand settles on your upper leg. He squeezes. You jolt. 

Suguru’s kissing you again. It’s harsher than the first time. More teeth, like he intends to swallow you whole. He squeezes your chin, keeping you in place so he can continue to devour you. For a moment, you debate biting his tongue off, before you quickly bat it away. The thought of him getting violent, even worse, terrifies you. 

But how could he get worse? 

He pulls away with a satisfied sigh. The hand on your thigh lifts to your clothed slit. You don’t realize you’re wet until his fingers slip underneath your panties. 

There’s a slight hitch in his breathing. 

“Is this for me?” You can practically taste the victory in his voice. “How sweet.” 

A few moments later, your panties are torn away, too. Your legs are tangled with the thin cloth, leaving you utterly defenseless as he spreads your thighs apart. 

“No,” you’re telling him. “Don’t–No, no–” 

He hushes you with a quiet whisper, and then his mouth is on your pussy. 

Your thighs immediately fall onto his shoulders as he ate you out. There was a rhythm to it. His tongue lapped at your slit before curling at your clit. Immediately, you reacted. Your thighs flexed, threatening to clamp over his head. Something hot coiled in your belly as he sucked on your pussy. 

Your protests eventually gave way to sharp gasps and whines as he continued to tongue-fuck you. You think you’re still crying, but its interrupted by another toe-curling mewl. You don’t have the ability to hold them in. They force themselves past your lips and into the frigid air. You could feel Suguru smile against your clit. You’re so wet you’re probably dripping all over the couch, but you think Suguru couldn’t care less. 

He lifts you up by the hips. You let out a yelp as he crams his tongue into your hole, drinking the entirety of you. 

“That’s it.” His voice is muffled by your pussy.  It’s slurred. Drunk. “Lemme’ hear you.” 

You obey, helpless to do anything else. Your mind is swirling with self-hatred as you feel yourself approaching the edge. You can’t do anything to stop it. Your hips move by themselves. Your pussy clenches. 

Your orgasm was a tiny hitch before you completely came apart. Suguru keeps you there, latched onto your clit like a man starved, until you finally come down from your high. 

You lay there, panting, completely spent. Suguru rises from his spot in between your legs. He wipes at his face, never taking his eyes off of you. 

The kiss he gives you is terrifyingly soft. Almost sweet. You can taste yourself on his tongue. He gently holds your chin like you’re the most delicate thing in the world. 

If you closed your eyes, you could pretend it’s anyone else. Not Suguru. Not your friend’s fiancé. Not her soulmate. 

But Suguru doesn’t care about you enough to let you have that fantasy. 

“Look at me.” 

His voice is too soft to be demanding, but the order is clear from his tone. 

Slowly, your eyes drift back open. 

Suguru stands over you as if this were his rightful place. You can see his cock, fully unfurled from his pants. The mushroom tip has a bead of glistening, white pre-cum as he slowly aligns it to your battered pussy. 

You think the worst part is his eyes. 

Soft. Gentle. He stares at you the way no one else has. 

Love. 

You want to cry again, but you think you’ve run out of tears. 

His nonchalant demeanor is cracked. His pupils are flared with lust. He grunts when he slides his swollen tip across your folds. Pussy juice is smeared all over his cock as he does it again and again. 

“I’ve waited so long for this.” He sighs, and you don’t think he’s talking to you. “No one is taking this away from me.” 

Not even you. 

You should be grateful he cares enough to be gentle. His cock is huge, big enough to split you at the seams if he wanted to. You still he lowers himself into your hole. Immediately, your walls flex, squeezing his cock. 

Suguru growls and bits his lip. It’s clear whatever control he has left, he’s only holding it by a hair. 

It’s almost a relief when he fully sheathes himself inside you. He nearly collapses, face ducking into the crook of your neck. Your toes curl when he hits a spongy spot inside of you that nearly makes you see stars. 

“Fuck.” He hisses, voice sharp. “That’s it. That’s it. Just take it.” 

It’s an unsteady pace. Brutal, almost mind-breaking as he continues to fuck himself into you. You can hear his ragged breathing in your ear as he drives himself deeper and deeper into your cunt. You can barely keep up with the motions. Your thighs shake with the momentum. 

You think you’re saying something, and then your mind is wiped clean with another thrust. It’s an endless cycle of torturous pleasure. 

“Suguru–I–I can’t.” You’re blabbering. “I can’t, I just can’t–” 

“You can.” He urges back, fingers reaching down to rub your clit. You arch, back lifting up from the pillows. “I know you can, darling. Look at that. Look at you. Look at how well you take me.” 

“This was how it was always meant to be.” You can’t decipher the tone of his words. Your mind is too preoccupied with the feeling of your pussy wrapped around his cock. “You were practically made for me.” A broken wail passes out from your lips. He laughs. 

At this point, you think he’s too far gone to even know what he’s saying. 

“I love you so much, darling.” He leans back into your neck, biting down on the flesh. “No one can take you away from me. You are all for me.” 

At least, you hope that’s the case. You can’t bear to think his words have a semblance of intent. 

Your mind goes white as you cum on his cock. Your eyes roll back, your back arches up like a bitch in heat as you fall off the edge. Your pussy milks him, clamping down hard as you ride your high. 

There’s a moan in your ear before something hot pumps into your pussy, painting your insides with white. There’s so much, even with his dick still plugging your cunt, some still manages to leak out, dripping down your ass. 

He takes a shaky breath, and then he’s kissing you again. That same delicate touch he loves to take after he breaks you. You can taste the festering love through his lips and tongue. You let him, too exhausted to fight back. 

You think he’s saying something. You can’t hear him over the throbbing in your head. The tone he uses is soft as lips press against your temple. 

And then, his cock slips out of your ragged cunt before slamming back in all over again. 

❤︎

Mei<3 Missed Call(23)

‘Where are you’ 

‘Where are you’ 

‘Please dont do this to me’ 

‘I’m begging you’ 

‘I love you so much’

‘I’m sorry for everything I’ve done’ 

‘Plase don’t do this to me’

‘He’s my soulmate, why would you take him from me’ 

‘Please don’t do this to me’

…

‘You’re just a selfish slut. Take him then. See if I care.’ 

Ever since you woke up, all you could do was stare at Unmei’s texts. You’ve read them over and over. 

The words never change. Each line cuts you deeper than before.

You’re no longer on the sofa. Sometime last night, Suguru must have moved you. You sit up on a luxurious king-sized bed with silk sheets. Your body is aching and sore. There are marks all over your body. 

The man who made them sleeps peacefully right next to you. 

You’re still naked. It hurts to move. All what you can do is read Unmei’s texts over and over as you wipe away the sharp tears trickling down your cheek. 

The curtains of Suguru’s bedroom are open. It’s early morning. The beginnings of a sunrise creep over the horizon. Buildings are obscured by a light fog, and you can barely make out the outline of the city. The sky is illuminated with pinks and light oranges. It’s the prettiest sight you’ve ever seen. 

You don’t notice he’s awake until Suguru’s muscled chest presses against your back. You flinch as his head settles into the crook of your neck. He inhales your scent. 

“I told you, didn’t I?” He murmurs against your skin. “It’s a beautiful view. You’ll get to see this every day, from now on.” 

You don’t bother batting him away. You just stare down at your phone. There’s no new message from Unmei. She blocked you hours ago. 

Fingers pluck your phone from your loose grip. Suguru adjusts himself, wrapping an arm around your waist as he sifts through her panicked messages. He clicks his tongue. 

“Never expected anything more from her.” He sighs before he tosses the phone in the mess of blankets. He kisses your neck. “She’ll probably come by today. Hopefully, she’ll move out without much of an issue.” He remarks casually. Dully. Complete disinterest. 

Why? You want to ask him. Why you? Why would he–why would anyone–hate you enough to do this? 

But then, you remember the look of love he gave you as he rammed his cock deeper. You don’t know how you’d be able to hold yourself together if you saw that again. 

For the sake of your sanity, you ask: 

“What did you tell her?” 

Suguru’s fingers curl around your stomach. You can hear the slightest hint of irritation in his breath. 

“Nothing.” He eventually confesses. You want to yell at him, call him a liar. You don’t get the chance. 

“She must have felt the bond sever.” 

You notice it, just then. 

The wrappings on his wrist. 

Your heart is pounding in your chest as you grab at it. Suguru lets you unravel his work, silently watching each layer of gauze drop away. 

It’s ugly. The skin is raised and irritated. It will probably leave behind a scar. 

Not a single trace of Unmei’s name is left on Suguru’s skin. 

You want to scream, but your voice is frozen in your throat. 

There’s another kiss on your cheek. Suguru grins. 

“See?” He tells you adoringly, lovingly. 

“Now, we match.” 

[onuz]

•●HIS DESCENT STARTS WITH YOU●•

── the dark!jjk men meet you for the first time and the obsession starts immediately

▬ι═ﺤ●• satoru ৴ suguru ৴ nanami ৴ choso ৴ takuma ৴ hajime ৴ higuruma ৴ toji ৴ shiu ৴ naoya

request something ▬ι═ﺤ navigation ▬ι═ﺤ the dark files ▬ι═ﺤ the bimbo files

•●SATORU GOJO●•

satoru met you when he was seven years old, back when he still wore scraped knees and bruised shins and never quite understood why adults stared at him like he was something terrible wearing a child’s face. you were sitting on the edge of the training yard, swinging your legs over the stones, watching the older sorcerers practice with this soft, curious awe that made you look like you had wandered in from a gentler world.

he noticed you because you didn’t look afraid of him. everyone else always did.

your eyes tracked him like there was something worth admiring instead of fearing, and that one look did something to him, something small and sharp, like a splinter slipping under the skin. he asked you who you were in the blunt, unpolished way children ask questions, and you told him your name, told him you were there because your parents worked for the clan, told him you liked watching the sorcerers even though they scared you sometimes.

"do i scare you?" he asked, genuinely curious.

you shook your head instantly. "no. you look lonely, not scary."

no one had ever said anything like that to him before. the adults whispered words like weapon and miracle and liability, but never lonely. never anything soft. satoru felt something warm settle in his chest, a strange humming that he didn’t understand yet, so he stood beside you and didn’t say anything else because he didn’t know how to talk about the warm feeling.

you kept coming back. he started waiting for you.

he would pretend to be bored, or lean against the wall with that inherited arrogance the clan expected from him, but his eyes were always searching for you, for the way you’d slip into the courtyard with your shoes half tied and your hair messy from running, for the way you waved at him like he wasn’t someone everyone else bowed to.

and you talked to him. you talked to him like he was just a boy.

no one else did that.

that’s when the splinter grew roots, lodging deeper, turning into something bigger and heavier and impossible to ignore. he followed you around more. sometimes blatantly, sometimes from the shadows, sometimes sending lingering glances over his shoulder just to make sure you were still there, still close, still his one safe softness in a world full of sharpened edges.

when he was nine and a curse almost broke through the barrier near your house, he vaporized it before anyone else even sensed it. he didn’t sleep the entire night. he sat outside your door until sunrise, making sure nothing touched you because the idea of something hurting you felt wrong in a way that made his stomach twist.

when he was eleven, he beat a senior student half to death because the boy shoved you out of the way during sparring practice. satoru didn’t remember throwing the punches, not really, he just remembered red blooming in his eyes and this deafening rush in his head like the whole world had gone underwater. he didn’t even care about the punishment that followed. he only cared that you looked at him with wide, shaken eyes and whispered thank you, and that was enough to tether his heartbeat back into something calm.

when he was twelve, you told him you wanted to be a sorcerer too. he didn’t like the idea, the thought of you getting hurt made something cold and vicious rise beneath his ribs, but you smiled so brightly that day that he nodded anyway.

"i’ll train you," he said.

"really?"

"yeah."

he didn’t add so no one else ever gets close enough to teach you anything but me.

you kept growing and he kept changing, and every year the quiet obsession he carried sharpened into something clearer, something hungrier, something he didn’t even try to hide. he always walked a step behind you, always intercepted anyone who tried to bother you, always hovered too close during missions, too aware of every breath you took, every tiny shift in your voice, every bruise on your skin.

you got used to it because you didn’t know anything else. you didn’t realize other boys didn’t watch you the way satoru did.

he would look at you like you were a secret only he knew, like something fragile he was terrified of losing but would tear the world apart to keep. sometimes you’d laugh at a joke someone else made and his jaw would clench so tightly you could hear his teeth grind, and he’d make some excuse to pull you aside, to redirect your attention back where it 'belonged.'

by the time he was sixteen, the clan had stopped trying to separate you two. it was pointless. satoru followed you like a shadow that learned how to breathe. kids teased him about having a crush, elders whispered about emotional vulnerability being a liability, but he didn’t care. he only cared when you were upset, when you were tired, when you smiled at someone else, when he imagined a world where you chose anyone but him.

you never noticed the way his stare changed over the years, how it grew darker, how it lingered on you too long, how it followed the shape of your throat when you swallowed, your hands when you fidgeted, your lips when you spoke. you thought that was just how satoru looked at people. but it wasn’t.

it was only you.

you didn’t realize how deep it went until one night, when you were seventeen and training, and a senior sorcerer criticized your technique harshly, made a snide comment about you being weak, and satoru snapped. there was no warning, no hesitation, just the raw, terrifying flare of his cursed energy drowning the entire courtyard in blue white light as he pinned the man to the ground with a force violent enough to crack stone.

you called his name, startled and shaky, and he calmed instantly, dropping the man like a discarded object before turning to you with that same soft, gentle smile he’d worn the first day you met. like nothing horrifying had happened at all.

"don’t listen to him," he murmured, brushing a stray hair from your cheek. "you’re perfect."

and you believed him, because he said it so tenderly, so sincerely, like it came from a place of pure care.

you didn’t realize it came from obsession.

you didn’t realize it came from the boy who had decided, long before you ever understood what that meant, that you were his first friend, his first softness, and therefore his forever.

•●SUGURU GETO●•

you met him on a winter afternoon you weren’t meant to survive.

the geto estate had opened its gates to the public for one of those carefully curated charity functions, something the higher clans did once a year to pretend they were benevolent, though everyone knew civilians were only allowed because it looked good in headlines. you came because your friend begged you to come along, whispering something about getting to see "old money weirdos up close," and you had no idea that stepping through those lacquered gates would mark you like blood on snow.

suguru saw you before you saw him.

he was standing on a raised walkway, dressed in his ceremonial robes—black silk layered over deep violet, the kind of fabric that swallowed lantern light whole. his hair was tied back with a gold clasp, posture straight and regal, expression carved from stone as he watched the crowd like he was overseeing livestock. bored. superior. untouchable.

and then you laughed at something your friend said and suguru’s head snapped toward the sound like he’d been struck.

for one second, just one, his composure cracked. not visibly to the crowd, but internally, something ancient and instinctive curled its fingers around his ribs. it wasn’t attraction. not yet. it was… interest, sharp and unwelcome, the same way you’d pause if a wild animal suddenly made eye contact with you from the treeline.

he kept staring.

you didn’t notice him, of course. humans never noticed predators until the teeth were already in their throat. but suguru noticed everything about you.

he noticed how you walked like you didn’t know your life could be ended here. how you looked up at the architecture with honest wonder, as if any of this had been built for you. how your friend tugged your sleeve, pointing at the cursed paintings on the wall, and you hummed thoughtfully, like you were trying to understand a language only sorcerers were meant to hear.

he hated that hum. it was gentle. soft. human.

but he followed it anyway.

he drifted through the crowd with effortless grace, robes whispering behind him, no footsteps, no presence. just a shadow that moved with intention. people bowed. moved aside. lowered their heads.

you were the only one who didn’t.

you turned around too quickly and almost walked right into him. you froze, he didn’t move.

for a heartbeat, you were close enough to feel the faint warmth radiating from him, close enough to smell incense and clean winter air clinging to his robes, close enough to see the faint gold flecks in his irises that made them look too pretty to belong to someone capable of so much cruelty.

"oh- sorry," you murmured, stepping back politely. "i didn’t see you."

he didn’t blink.

that alone made your breath catch.

suguru was used to humans flinching before him, bowing, stuttering apologies. not looking him in the eyes. not speaking casually. not treating him like someone standing in their path instead of a god descending.

you weren’t afraid. he didn’t know what to do with that.

"…you’re not with the clans." his voice was even, low, controlled.

"no," you said. "just visiting."

he should have walked away.

he should have dismissed you as a bothersome monkey.

he did neither.

"this place isn’t meant for people like you," he said, and he said it softly, not unkindly, but with the truth of someone who could crush your throat between two fingers.

you smiled, actually smiled, warm, unguarded, human. "yeah," you admitted, "but it’s pretty. and i wanted to see something pretty today."

his stomach dropped.

it was such an innocent thing to say, harmless really but it hit him like a curse to the sternum, because he couldn’t tell if you meant the building behind him or him.

you looked at him like he was something worth looking at and that was the moment he became ruined.

he didn’t let you see the reaction, didn’t let you see the anger and fascination twisting together in his chest like two snakes knotting around a single rib. he only tilted his head, studying you with a kind of slow, clinical hunger.

"you shouldn’t wander alone," he murmured.

"why?" you asked.

his eyes lowered to your throat. then rose again. "because someone might decide to keep you."

you thought he meant it as a warning.

he meant it as a promise.

you excused yourself with a polite smile and walked back to your friend, who was waving you over excitedly. suguru didn’t follow, physically. he stayed where he was, hands tucked into his sleeves, expression smooth.

but he watched.

he watched the way your hair caught the lantern light. he watched the way your fingertips trailed along the carved railing. he watched the way you murmured apologies to a stray kitten near the stairs.

humans weren’t supposed to be kind. humans weren’t supposed to be enchanting. humans weren’t supposed to make him feel anything but disgust.

and yet, you walked out the gates without looking back.

suguru stood on the balcony long after the event ended, long after the crowd dissipated, long after the lanterns were dimmed. something ancient and ugly throbbed behind his ribs, something cold.

he hated that you were human.

he hated that you were soft.

he hated that you slipped through his fingers before he had the chance to close them around you.

but most of all, he hated that he found himself whispering your name, just the sound you had given when introducing yourself, and feeling his pulse spike like he had swallowed fire.

humans were beneath him.

humans were filth.

humans were disposable.

but you?

you had walked through his domain with bright eyes and an easy smile and no understanding at all of what you had done.

you had been pretty.

you had been warm.

you had been alive.

and now he couldn’t stop thinking about you.

the next day, suguru summoned every member of his clan and ordered a new directive in a voice too calm to be questioned,

"find out everything about her."

and when one elder asked why, suguru only smiled, slow, sharp, terrifying.

"because," he murmured, "i need to know what belongs to me."

•●KENTO NANAMI●•

nanami had always believed that life was supposed to be simple if you kept your head down, followed rules, and avoided unnecessary chaos, which was why he tried so hard to keep his days predictable. coffee at 6:10, tie knotted at 6:12, paperwork at 6:40, mission brief by 7 sharp. but everything came undone the morning he found you sitting on the cold steps outside jujutsu headquarters, hugging your knees like the world had decided to collapse without warning.

he only noticed you because you didn’t belong there. civilians were never supposed to be this close to sorcerer business, yet you sat facing the sunrise, wearing clothes that looked a little too thin for the chill, and when you lifted your head at the sound of his footsteps, your eyes were swollen like you’d spent the entire night crying.

"are you hurt?" he asked, and his voice was gentle in a way that surprised even him, because he didn’t do tenderness for strangers.

you shook your head quickly, wiping at your cheeks like you were embarrassed to be caught. "n-no, sorry, i’m not supposed to be here. i just- didn’t have anywhere else to go for a few hours."

it should’ve ended there. nanami should’ve nodded, walked past, reported you to security, and carried on with his morning.

instead he stopped and sat down beside you like it was the most natural thing in the world.

you looked startled. he didn’t blame you, nanami kento didn’t sit next to people. he tolerated them.

"why are you here so early?" he asked, watching the way your hands trembled as you tucked them into your sleeves.

you hesitated, voice cracking a little. "my landlord kicked me out. i couldn’t pay rent on time, and he didn’t want to wait. i didn’t know where else to go."

nanami’s jaw locked so hard it ached.

he could picture it perfectly, some greedy, irritated man deciding you weren’t worth patience. some stranger who saw nothing valuable in you, nothing worth caring for, nothing worth protecting.

the thought made something shift sharply inside him.

"you should have reported him," nanami said quietly, "it’s illegal."

you laughed under your breath, soft and sad. "yeah, well… when you’re broke, people don’t really care what’s illegal."

nanami looked at you then, really looked, and the moment your eyes met his, something dark and steady and unshakeable clicked into place inside his chest.

this wasn’t pity.

it was possessiveness, sharp and absolute.

you were sitting here in the cold with no coat, no home, no one who cared enough to help you, and nanami felt the kind of rage that didn’t show on his face but coiled low in his stomach, controlled, patient, viciously quiet.

someone had failed you. multiple someones, probably. and he hated them all at once.

"stand up," he said suddenly, voice calm but unyielding.

you blinked. "um… why?"

"because you’re coming with me."

you stared at him, wide eyed and confused. "i- sir, i don’t even know you."

"you don’t need to. i know enough."

and he meant it, in a way that was both unsettling and strangely reassuring. nanami didn’t care about your past. he didn’t need you to explain yourself. he didn’t need details or history or justification.

he saw you in pain once, and that was enough.

he rose to his feet, adjusting his tie with a precision that bordered on obsessive, then extended a hand toward you.

not a request, a command disguised as courtesy.

you hesitated, of course you did, and he could see the fear flickering behind your eyes, the uncertainty, the instinct to apologize for being a burden when you weren’t one.

nanami softened his voice only slightly. "you have nowhere to go. i won’t force you. but you’re not staying out here in the cold."

that was all it took.

you placed your hand in his, small and cold and trusting in a way that made his breath hitch, and nanami felt that quiet, orderly life of his tilt permanently off its axis.

he would provide for you.

he would protect you.

he would become the person who never let you feel this helpless again.

you didn’t know it, you couldn’t know it, but the moment your fingers curled around his, nanami kento decided something permanent and irreversible.

you were his responsibility now.

his to shelter.

his to watch over.

his to keep safe.

his.

you followed him down the steps, unaware of the darkness blooming behind his steady expression, unaware that nanami wasn’t thinking about returning you to some landlord or some relative or some friend.

he wasn’t thinking about letting you walk away at all.

because the world had failed you once, and nanami had always believed in fixing broken systems with his own hands.

and now? you were part of his system.

and he would correct the world around you, bend it, break it, quiet it, until you no longer had to cry alone on cold steps in the early morning light.

whether you realized any of this or not didn’t matter.

nanami walked a step ahead of you, steady, composed, deadly calm, already planning.

already claiming.

already falling.

and by the time he glanced back to check if you were keeping up, you were smiling, small and grateful, trusting in a way that made his chest clench.

he knew there was no turning back.

•●CHOSO KAMO●•

choso’s first mistake was looking at you.

it wasn’t supposed to mean anything. he had only been alive in a real, physical, breathing way for a short time, and most things in the human world still felt too loud, too bright, too much like standing beneath a sun he wasn’t meant to be under. the train was crowded, metal rattling, bodies pressed too close, scents colliding in ways he didn’t have the language for. he stood rigid near the door, hands in his pockets like yuji showed him, head lowered, hoping no one would speak to him.

and then the train lurched, and you stumbled.

not dramatically, just a tiny, human misstep, your fingers brushing the metal pole, your hair shifting over your cheek, your breath catching in a soft, flustered sound that barely rose above the hum of the carriage. but choso’s head snapped up like someone had tugged a string inside his chest.

you were pretty in a way he didn’t understand yet. soft in a way curses weren’t. warm in a way his kind had no word for. something about you made his instincts tilt sideways, like his bones were suddenly too big for his skin and his pulse was trying to climb up his throat.

you didn’t notice him. no one ever did. he was good at being quiet, at folding himself into corners of rooms. but he noticed you, every detail, every motion, every breath.

you pressed your headphones in deeper. your brows scrunched at whatever song you were listening to. your lip gloss had a tiny smudge at the corner where you must’ve wiped your mouth without thinking. and when your bag slipped off your shoulder, you huffed a little under your breath, annoyed in the softest way he’d ever seen.

his chest clenched.

it didn’t feel normal.

it didn’t feel human.

he watched you like someone starving watches the last fruit on a high branch, instinct first, reasoning later, desire blooming with no name attached. his fingers twitched in his pockets, itching with the new, strange urge to fix the strap on your bag, to hold your elbow so you wouldn’t stumble again, to stand between you and anyone who even breathed too close.

he didn’t know that was wrong.

he didn’t know it was obsessive.

choso only knew curses, and curses followed impulses without hesitation. they saw something they wanted, they took it or destroyed it. and humans were confusing. so warm. so bright. so breakable. but you, you didn’t seem breakable. you seemed… fragile, yes, but not weak. small, but not insignificant. you were just existing in front of him, unaware, humming under your breath, and he was learning the burn of longing for the first time.

and longing changed him.

someone bumped into you. not hard, but enough to jolt your shoulder.

choso almost tore their throat out.

he didn’t move, thank whoever taught him self control, but the instinct was violent and immediate. rage flooded his veins so quickly he felt dizzy with it. his vision blurred around the edges, curse instincts screaming mine mine mine even though you weren’t. even though you’d never looked his way.

your headphones slipped askew. you muttered a soft apology even though you weren’t the one who should apologize. choso stared, breath unsteady.

why did you do that?

why were you softening yourself for someone who didn’t deserve it?

why did humans shrink instead of bite?

he didn’t understand. but he wanted to. he wanted to understand you so badly it made him sway slightly where he stood. he wanted to know what you ate for breakfast and why you tied your hair the way you did and what song made you smile like that. he wanted to know your name. he wanted to say it out loud. he wanted to keep it like a weapon or a blessing on his tongue.

the train stopped, you stepped out and choso followed.

not consciously. not with intent. not with anything that resembled a plan. his feet just moved because you moved, and every instinct inside him screamed that if he let you leave, if he let this moment dissolve back into the noise of the city, he would lose something important, something vital, something he’d waited his whole life (and unlife) without realizing it.

you walked through the station, weaving through crowds, your bag bouncing gently against your hip. choso trailed several paces behind, head lowered, hands shoved deep in his pockets like he was trying to look normal, though he didn’t know what normal looked like yet.

you stopped to check your phone.

he stopped too.

you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

his fingers twitched.

you stepped into the sunlight and winced at how bright it was.

he dipped his head in instinctive sympathy, even though you would never see it.

when the crowd finally swallowed you, disappearing you into its mass, choso stood there on the platform, stomach twisting painfully, feeling something he didn’t have words for.

loss.

he didn’t know why it hurt so much. he didn’t know why the ache felt sharp and wrong and permanent. he didn’t know why the image of your face was already burning itself into the back of his mind like a brand.

he didn’t know any of this was abnormal.

he only knew one thing with absolute certainty. next time, he wouldn’t let you disappear.

because whatever you had awakened inside him, warmth or hunger or devotion or madness, he wasn’t built to ignore it.

and curses didn’t love gently.

they clung. they consumed. they kept.

and choso had decided, without meaning to, without understanding why, you were his to keep.

•●TAKUMA INO●•

takuma never understood why people made such a big deal about obsession.

he’d always assumed it was something dramatic and intense, like the stuff they showed in movies, a villain whispering "you’re mine," or some stalker writing a thousand letters. his life had never felt like that. everything about him was painfully normal. he woke up, he worked, he tried his best. he was mediocre in all the ways that counted and loyal in all the ways that didn’t matter. nothing about him felt remotely dangerous.

until the day he met you.

and suddenly he understood obsession like it was a language he’d been born speaking.

it started stupidly, embarrassingly normal. some random tuesday where the division sent him out for a routine investigation and he arrived early because he always tried too hard. the street was still waking up, sunlight soft, air chilly, people crossing intersections like clockwork. he was reviewing his notes, yawning into his sleeve, when he heard your voice through the open cafe door, bright and warm and soft enough to feel like fingers scraping down his spine.

"sorry! i’ll pay you back tomorrow, i promise, i just… forgot my wallet again."

takuma glanced up, and that was it.

you were standing at the counter, holding a muffin with both hands like it was something precious, smile sweet and apologetic, hair a little messy, sleeves too long, eyes shining with sincerity that looked stupidly rare in a world that chewed people up and spit them out.

the barista sighed, clearly annoyed, but you just gave a sheepish laugh and a tiny wave, as if embarrassed by your own existence. something in the way you ducked your head made ino’s chest feel tight.

without thinking, truly without thinking, he stepped inside.

"put it on mine," he said, already pulling out his wallet.

your head whipped toward him, surprised, eyes wide and soft and way too pretty for this world. "oh no! no, you don’t have to do that, seriously, it’s fine, i’m fine-"

"it’s okay," he said, too quickly. "i want to."

your face lit up like he’d given you something massive instead of a seven dollar pastry, and that was the exact second his brain broke.

because no one had ever looked at him like that.

not like he was a hero. or a threat. or an inconvenience.

just… someone kind.

someone worth smiling at.

and ino, who’d never had anything close to love in his life, handed over the money like he was paying for the right to breathe the same air as you.

you followed him outside, clutching the muffin, voice bright. "thank you. really. i’ll pay you back. next time i see you."

he lied instantly. "i’m here every morning." he wasn’t. but he would be now.

you laughed, warm and trusting, and waved goodbye before walking down the street, humming under your breath, crumbs clinging to your lips as you took a bite.

ino watched you go with his hands still half raised, heart pounding too hard, thinking, oh. oh no. this is bad.

and it only got worse after that.

because he did come back the next morning. and the morning after that. and every morning after that. you showed up sometimes, sometimes not, but every time you appeared his whole world narrowed down to the sound of your shoes on the tile.

you never caught the way he memorized your routines without trying. you never noticed how he went out of his way to "accidentally" walk past your street. you never saw the way he lingered in places you’d been, pretending it was coincidence.

and takuma convinced himself it was normal. not obsession. not fixation. just… paying attention. being considerate. wanting to make sure you were safe because this world was ugly and you were too soft to survive it without someone quietly watching your back.

and when you smiled at him each time you saw him, soft, grateful, oblivious, it carved the obsession deeper, burying it under layers of sweetness until it felt less like madness and more like devotion.

you told him once, in that airy, gentle tone of yours, that he "felt easy to be around," and he almost laughed.

if you knew the thoughts crawling through his head whenever you looked at him like that, you’d run.

or maybe you wouldn’t. maybe that hope, that tiny poisonous hope, was why his heart twisted every time you wandered out of his line of sight.

he followed you that morning just long enough to make sure you crossed the street safely, then forced himself to stop, leaning against a lamppost with his pulse racing.

he knew he should walk away.

he knew this wasn’t normal.

but something inside him whispered that this was fate, that you were meant to be protected, and he was meant to protect you, and there was nothing unhinged about that at all.

after all… you’d smiled at him. and isn’t that how all good stories start?

•●HAJIME KASHIMO●•

hajime kashimo didn’t believe in softness.

not in mercy, not in gentleness, not in anything that wasn’t sharpened by combat or purified by pain. he had lived too long and killed too many to feel anything that resembled wonder, and the world had become nothing more than a battlefield he was waiting to die on, an endless stretch of monotony broken only by the rare thrum of a worthy opponent.

so the day he met you shouldn’t have mattered at all. it shouldn’t have even registered.

it happened in the middle of a storm.

he’d created it, of course. bored, irritated, letting cursed energy ignite the sky just to see how many sorcerers would come running to investigate the sudden spike, eager to flatten any who approached. thunderstorms were the only thing that gave him clarity anymore, the only thing that reminded him that he was alive, even if barely.

but instead of a sorcerer, instead of a challenger, instead of the centuries-awaited thrill of a fight…

he found you.

you were standing in the rain like an idiot, holding a broken umbrella that wasn’t even open properly, staring up at the lightning like you were admiring fireworks instead of an omen of death.

he froze for a fraction of a second. not because you were strong. you weren’t. not because you were a threat. you weren’t. but because you were smiling.

smiling at his storm.

and something in him cracked in a strange, unsteady way.

lightning should have struck you. you were right under it, fragile, soft, unguarded, absolutely defenseless. you should have died instantly, and hajime would have felt nothing. that’s how the laws of the world worked.

instead, the storm bent around you.

the energy shifted. the sky changed its aim. lightning coiled through the clouds like a serpent choosing a new target.

he felt it, the storm recognizing you. he didn't like that. it didn’t make sense. nothing did.

hajime stepped out of the shadows before he even realized he was moving.

you startled, turning toward him with wide eyes, clothes soaked through, hair plastered to your cheeks, breathing fast from the cold. you looked like something the world should have broken years ago, something too delicate to stand on its own.

yet you still smiled at him.

“sorry,” you said breathlessly, as if you’d been caught doing something mischievous, “i… um. i like watching lightning. is that weird?”

yes, he thought immediately.

yes, it was very weird.

yes, it was stupid and reckless and suicidal.

yes, you were ridiculous.

and then- yes, he liked it.

he didn’t answer.

you didn’t seem bothered.

“i think it’s pretty,” you continued, eyes turning back to the sky. “most people get scared, but… i dunno. it feels like it’s talking to me.”

his fingers twitched.

lightning had only ever spoken to him.

how dare it speak to you.

you went quiet for a moment, shivering, hugging the useless umbrella to your chest.

that was when it happened.

a strike, sudden, violent, lethal, dropped from the clouds faster than any human could see.

except hajime.

he stepped forward without thinking, redirecting the bolt through his own cursed energy, letting it hit him instead of you, letting the crackle rip down his arms, burning his skin in bright violet lines.

you gasped, stumbling back. “oh my god- are you okay?!”

the fact that you could watch a man absorb a lightning strike and worry about him made something ugly and possessive curl inside him.

“…it won’t touch you,” he said finally, voice low and rough, more like a threat than reassurance.

you blinked up at him. “because you protected me?”

he hadn’t meant to. he didn’t do protection. he didn’t do kindness. he didn’t do anything that wasn’t strategically advantageous.

but you said it like it was obvious. like it made sense. like you believed he would.

something ancient and violent in him stirred.

you weren’t strong. you weren’t impressive. you weren’t his equal.

but you were the first thing in centuries that made his lightning hesitate.

the first thing he looked at without feeling the familiar boredom.

the first person whose death he didn’t want.

“go home,” he said, stepping closer, the storm humming through his bones. “this place isn’t safe.”

you smiled again, that soft, infuriating little smile like you thought he was being sweet.

“okay. but… thank you,” you said, voice quiet. “for, um… saving me.”

he almost laughed.

saving you.

if only you knew.

you walked past him, close enough that he caught the faint scent of rain and warmth on your skin, close enough that he could feel your mortal heartbeat, close enough that something in his chest tightened.

he didn’t watch people leave.

he wasn’t sentimental, he wasn’t protective, he wasn’t human in any way that mattered.

and yet he watched you walk away until the storm dissipated entirely. until the sky cleared. until he couldn’t see you anymore.

a strange, dangerous thought flickered in the back of his mind.

lightning doesn’t choose what it strikes.

except… maybe it did. maybe it had chosen you.

and hajime kashimo had never once in his life allowed himself to want anything. but now he did.

and he hated that. and he loved that. and he knew, with the clarity of thunder splitting the world open, that this was only the beginning.

because storms always return to what they break.

and he would too.

•●HIROMI HIGURUMA●•

you met hiromi higuruma on your first day at the firm, still clutching the stack of onboarding papers against your chest like a shield, trying to steady your breathing as you followed the secretary down a too bright hallway. he was already waiting in the conference room, tall, calm, unreadable, hands folded neatly on the table, posture perfect in a way that made you straighten instinctively, like his presence alone adjusted the room around him.

he looked up slowly when you stepped in, and something in his expression flickered, barely there but unmistakably sharp, as though the sight of you disrupted the internal order he’d built his life around.

"this is higuruma," the secretary introduced. "he’ll be training you for the next few weeks."

he didn’t smile. he didn’t offer his hand. he simply inclined his head, voice even, controlled to the point of suffocation.

"you’re late."

your breath caught. "i- sorry, i got turned around-"

"it’s fine," he said, but the words were too smooth, too mild, the kind of fine that felt like a verdict. "sit."

you obeyed before your brain caught up.

he slid a thick file toward you, fingers brushing the edge of the folder with meticulous precision. "we’ll start with case reviews. read everything. slowly. thoroughly."

you nodded again, heart thudding stupidly. you didn’t realize he was watching the way your hands trembled until he said, almost quietly, "you don’t need to be afraid." and then, softer, so soft you almost missed it, "not of me."

your stomach flipped in a way that made no sense.

he watched you read for a long time. longer than someone should. his gaze never wandered, never drifted, never blinked away from you for more than a moment. he studied the way you turned pages, the way your lips moved when you mouthed the more difficult legal terms, the crease in your brow when you concentrated too hard. he observed you like a man memorizing a confession.

and then, you made your mistake.

you looked up, hesitating. "um… can i ask something?"

he stilled, eyes sharpening. "yes."

"are you… okay?" you asked, voice soft with genuine concern. "you look kind of tired."

it was nothing. a small kindness, something you said to everyone, something you forgot five seconds after you said it. but higuruma froze completely, breath stuttering in a way you didn’t notice, because no one ever asked him if he was okay. not sincerely. not gently. not with that softness in their eyes like they meant it.

it lodged itself inside him like a hook.

he looked at you too long, long enough that you shifted in your seat, suddenly hyperaware of the intensity in his gaze, the calculation behind it, the way he studied your face as if tracing the memory into place.

"i’m fine," he said at last, voice low. "but… thank you."

you smiled, a small, warm thing, unguarded and honest.

and that was the moment everything went wrong.

because higuruma felt something inside him tilt dangerously, like he’d been walking a straight line for years and suddenly the ground shifted beneath his feet. he had been composed, structured, deliberate and then you smiled at him, and something in his chest tightened with an emotion he hadn’t permitted himself to feel since long before he ever stepped into a courtroom.

he spent the rest of training watching you too closely, listening too intently, standing too near. he corrected your form by guiding your hand with an unfamiliar gentleness, fingers lingering a moment too long. he memorized the cadence of your voice when you read aloud. he learned your schedule. he noticed the way you tucked your hair behind your ear. he catalogued everything.

and you didn’t realize any of it. not the way his eyes hardened at anyone else who tried to talk to you, not the way he dismissed male coworkers with one cold look when they hovered too close, not the way his jaw tightened whenever someone made you laugh. you thought he was just quiet. reserved. intense.

but he was watching you with the same focus he used in the courtroom, absolute, terrifying, unwavering.

and when you left your scarf behind after a long day, soft, warm, carrying the faint scent of your perfume, higuruma folded it carefully and held it in both hands as though it were evidence. something sacred. something damning.

"you shouldn’t have been kind to me," he murmured to the empty office, fingers brushing the fabric like he could feel your pulse beneath it.

because now?

he wasn’t going to stop.

not when he’d finally found something gentle in a world that never gave him anything worth keeping.

and certainly not when you were the one who gave it to him.

•●RYOMEN SUKUNA●•

the village had been burning for hours by the time he bothered to walk through it.

screams had already faded into ash, smoke curling up into the sky like the world was exhaling its last breath, and sukuna stepped over corpses the way other men stepped over puddles, mildly annoyed they existed at all. he didn’t come for the thrill anymore. slaughter was an old habit, a muscle he could work without thinking. but even the boredom of conquest had a certain rhythm to it, a pulse he understood.

that rhythm stopped the moment he saw you.

you were crouched behind a half collapsed wall, clutching something to your chest, a woven basket, pathetic and frayed, filled with herbs and roots and whatever little scraps your life consisted of. your hands were shaking, your breath ragged, your eyes wide and shimmering in the firelight like you were some small, trembling creature meant to be hidden in a forest, not found in the ruins of a massacre.

and the moment sukuna laid eyes on you, something low and sharp curled inside him, something ancient and hungry and deeply territorial.

he paused, head tilting, four eyes narrowing in quiet interest.

you were trying so hard not to breathe loud enough for him to hear.

you failed.

“little mouse,” he said, voice low and amused, like he was greeting an animal that wandered into his palm. “come out.”

you flinched. that almost made him smile.

no one hid from him, not successfully. and you weren’t even doing a very good job of it, you were shaking so badly the herbs in your basket rattled with each tremor.

sukuna could have dragged you out by your ankle, split your skull open, left you as another nameless stain on the earth.

but he didn't.

he pushed aside the broken wall with one hand, splintering wood and stone like they were paper, and crouched down to your level, watching the way your body curled tighter around the basket like it could protect you.

“what are you doing,” he murmured, irritation and curiosity mixing in his voice, “trembling like a rabbit in a snare?”

you tried to speak, but your throat locked.

“answer me.”

your mouth opened, but the only sound that came out was a soft, desperate whimper, and that sound lodged itself under his ribs like a hook.

something primal shifted behind all four eyes.

not pity.

possession.

you didn’t even know him, didn’t know what he was, and yet you looked at him like you were staring at the end of the world itself. he felt the spark of it, the way fear made your pulse quicken, the way you shrank back but couldn’t look away, and he found himself leaning in, fascinated.

“tell me your name.”

you whispered it so quietly he almost didn’t hear, but he did. he committed it to memory instantly, carved it into the marrow of this moment.

your hands shook so badly the basket slipped. sukuna caught it before it hit the ground.

the surprise in your eyes was almost amusing.

“these,” he said, examining the herbs you’d gathered like they were pitiful treasures, “are what you risked your life for? foolish.”

you swallowed. “they… they were for my mother.”

he raised a brow. “and where is she now?”

your silence was answer enough.

sukuna clicked his tongue, tossing the basket aside like it meant nothing. “pathetic.”

you flinched again, and the movement made him reach forward without thinking. his fingers slid beneath your chin, forcing your head up, forcing your pretty, terrified eyes to meet all four of his.

for a moment neither of you moved.

he studied you. the dirt on your knees, the soot on your cheeks, the way your lashes clumped with tears, the way your pulse fluttered beneath your skin like it wanted to escape.

and something twisted, slow and deliberate, inside his chest. a decision forming, solidifying, settling with the weight of inevitability.

“you,” he said simply, “belong to me now.”

your breath hitched.

he didn't clarify what he meant. didn’t soften the decree. didn’t give you the illusion of choice. he stood, grabbed your wrist gently, almost deceptively gently, and pulled you to your feet like you weighed nothing at all.

“but-” you tried to protest.

he stopped walking and looked back.

“do you value your life?” you nodded, tiny and trembling. “then you’ll follow.”

you did.

and he didn’t let go of your wrist the entire way out of the village, not even when you stumbled, not even when your tears blurred your vision, not even when you reached the outskirts and dared to look back at everything you’d lost.

“don’t look at that place,” he said, fingers tightening around your skin, voice low and final. “it has nothing left for you.”

you swallowed hard. “…what do i have now?”

he looked down at you, expression unreadable, eyes burning with something dark and certain and far too possessive for a man who had just met you.

“me.”

and that was the moment your life ended, and the moment your new one, the one defined entirely by him, began.

•●TOJI FUSHIGURO●•

toji had never believed in fate. in his world, things didn’t "align" or "happen for a reason." people died, money moved, jobs were taken and finished, and nothing meant anything beyond the price attached to it. life was simple. clean. transactional.

until the night he was hired to kill your father.

it was supposed to be the kind of job he didn’t even blink at, another corrupt businessman, another name on a long list of disposable people. he’d studied the house for days from the shadows. the locked windows, the guard schedules, the way the lights went out room by room at exactly ten fifty one every night. nothing special.

and then, while he was perched on the rooftop across the street with his knife balanced between his fingers, you walked into view.

you, in a soft little sweater, hair down, shoulders relaxed, eyes unfocused with exhaustion as you carried a mug of tea to your balcony. you leaned against the railing like you’d done it a hundred nights before, clueless, peaceful, vulnerable in a way that made something violent and unfamiliar stir in his chest.

he froze.

because you were beautiful, yes, in that soft, warm way that made him think of things he had no right to think about, but it was the contrast that hooked him. you lived in a house filled with rot and money and dirty secrets, yet you looked untouched by all of it. like a flower growing through concrete.

you weren’t the target but suddenly, you were all he could see.

you sighed into the night air, rubbing your thumb along the rim of your mug, and toji felt irritation prick along the back of his neck at how close you were to the edge of the balcony. one wrong lean, one dizzy moment, and you’d fall. he clicked his tongue, annoyed by the thought, annoyed by caring, which was something he hadn’t done in years.

he should’ve looked away. he didn’t.

he watched you instead, the tiny soft movements, the absentminded hum under your breath, the way you looked up at the sky like you were asking it a question. he memorized all of it without meaning to.

that was the first mistake.

the second was the moment your father stormed into view behind the glass, face twisted in anger, voice muffled but sharp enough that even from across the street, toji could tell he wasn’t saying anything kind. your shoulders shrank, your head bowed, and that unfamiliar, unwanted heat flared again in toji’s chest. darker this time. heavier.

he’d been hired to kill the man anyway, but now he wanted to.

not for money, for you.

you disappeared back into the house like a frightened animal, and your father kept shouting long after you were gone. toji twirled his knife once between his fingers, and that was when the decision snapped cleanly into place inside him.

jobs had always just been jobs but this one wasn’t anymore.

because you existed in the middle of it. and he wasn’t letting someone like you stay caged in a house like that.

he broke in that night like it was nothing. a silent shadow, a ghost moving through hallways lined with expensive art and empty affection. your father died without ever seeing the face of the man who killed him, quick, efficient, meaningless.

but toji didn’t leave. not yet.

he found your bedroom door halfway down the hall, cracked open just enough that he could see inside. and there you were, curled up on your bed, lights still on, tear tracks drying on your cheeks while you clutched a stuffed animal like you were much younger than you were.

toji leaned against the doorway, knife still warm in his hand, and let out a quiet breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding.

you didn’t wake, you didn’t even stir and something in him settled, disturbingly satisfied, at the sight.

he should’ve left right then, before the feeling rooting itself behind his ribs grew into something sharp enough to torment him. but he didn’t. he took another step inside. then another. drawn to you like he was starving.

you were small like this. breakable. soft enough that one touch from him would bruise.

and yet you looked… safe.

safe in a world where people like him existed.

his jaw tightened.

he hated that.

he hated how his body reacted, how his brain sharpened around one thought he had never allowed himself to have before.

mine.

he stepped closer, just to look. just to confirm he wasn’t imagining how gentle you looked in your sleep.

you shifted slightly, curling deeper into the blankets, and a soft, innocent sigh escaped your lips, a sound so achingly vulnerable that toji’s fingers curled involuntarily around the edge of your doorway, knuckles white.

he imagined someone else hearing that sound. he hated the thought, viscerally.

he needed to leave. he didn’t.

he stood there until the moon moved across your floorboards, until his heartbeat steadied, until something inside him settled into place with terrifying clarity.

he had come here to kill your father and he had, but now he wanted something else, something he had never wanted before.

he wanted to keep you.

safe. close. hidden from the world he lived in. hidden from anyone who might look at you and see what he saw.

you stirred again, a small motion, unaware of the monster standing at your door.

and for the first time since he was a child, toji smiled, slow, sharp, possessive.

he stepped back into the dark, disappearing as easily as he’d arrived.

but he knew he’d be back. because you were no longer just the daughter of a target.

you were the beginning of an obsession and toji fushiguro had already made his choice.

•●SHIU KONG●•

shiu wasn’t supposed to notice you.

that was the thing, he had lived an entire life built on precision and clean, efficient detachment. he was a man who blended into corners, became furniture, became shadow, became whatever the room required him to be. hired hands weren’t meant to feel anything, let alone the kind of creeping fixation that settles into bone before the brain can name it.

but then you walked into the room he was guarding, holding a stack of documents to your chest, frowning down at the floor like you weren’t sure if you belonged here. and maybe you didn’t, this was a meeting of men far above your pay grade, but no one stopped you, because you were polite and soft spoken and clearly harmless.

at least, that was what everyone else thought.

shiu wasn’t like everyone else.

his eyes followed the way your fingers trembled when you set the papers down, the way you bowed your head too deeply when someone brushed past you, the way you apologized even when you didn’t need to. there wasn’t anything particularly special about you in any traditional sense, but something about the way you existed, quiet, unaware of your own beauty, a little nervous, made something in him stir.

it was the kind of stirring he usually only felt before a kill.

that was how he knew this was dangerous.

you smiled at him, just a passing glance, just a polite little thing, and he felt it land in his chest like a blade sinking clean between ribs. he didn’t show it, of course. he didn’t even tilt his head. he simply made a mental note. you smiled at him. you smiled at him, specifically.

he wondered if you smiled like that at everyone.

he hated the idea.

when the meeting ended, people streamed out of the room, loud and careless. you gathered your things slowly, methodical and gentle, and shiu stood near the door watching every movement as he always did with potential threats. except this time his attention had nothing to do with risk management and everything to do with curiosity that felt a little too sharp.

you nearly dropped one of the folders. he caught it before it hit the ground.

your breath hitched, tiny, startled, sweet.

"ah- thank you," you murmured, cheeks warming as you tried to take it back.

shiu didn’t hand it over immediately. his fingers brushed yours for a second too long. he didn’t mean to, or maybe he did, but he didn’t move away even after you tried to retract your hand. he held the folder lightly, pinning you in place with nothing but a gentle grip and unreadable eyes.

"you’re new," he said, voice low and smooth, deceptively calm. "i haven’t seen you around before."

you blinked up at him, flustered by the attention. "oh- yes. i just started last week. i’m still… learning where everything is."

he nodded, still not letting go of the folder.

"be careful," he said, tone flat but weighted with something you couldn’t interpret. "people here notice everything."

you laughed nervously, not understanding the warning. "i’ll try my best."

and gods, that laugh, soft and unsure and a little shaky, lodged itself under his skin like a splinter.

he handed the folder back finally, brushing your fingers again in a way he didn’t allow himself to acknowledge.

"i can show you around," he said. "if you ever need someone to."

his voice sounded normal. casual. polite. but the intent underneath it was anything but.

you smiled again, bright, grateful, trusting.

"that’d be really nice. thank you. um- shiu, right?"

he hadn’t told you his name.

not even once.

something cold and electric curled up his spine at the idea that you already knew him, had noticed him on your own, had remembered him. he didn’t question it out loud, he just nodded once, controlled, measured.

"yes," he said. "shiu kong."

you repeated it under your breath like you were trying to memorize it.

he walked you out of the building, steps silent beside you, hand always close to your lower back without actually touching. every person who passed you got a sharp, assessing look from him, one no one dared question. you didn’t notice it at all. you didn’t notice how his body shifted minutely each time someone got too close, how his gaze tracked every movement around you, how he matched your stride, slowed if you slowed, moved faster if you did, as if he’d been doing it his whole life.

and maybe, from that moment on, he would be.

at the exit, you gave him a tiny wave, adorably shy. "see you tomorrow, shiu."

you said it like a promise.

he heard it like a vow.

the door closed behind you, and shiu stood still in the empty lobby, expression blank, heart pounding with the calm, steady rhythm of a man who had decided something irreversible.

he wasn’t supposed to notice you.

he wasn’t supposed to care.

but he did and once shiu kong cared about something, he did not let go of it.

not ever.

•●NAOYA ZEN'IN●•

naoya had always known he would marry someone useful, someone bred into obedience, someone raised to bow at the correct angle and speak only when spoken to. that was the way the zenin clan arranged these things, everything predetermined, everything transactional, everything done to maintain the illusion that their bloodline was something divine rather than rotten at the stem.

so when the elders told him his fiancee had finally been selected, the daughter of a minor clan, young, quiet, polite, he didn’t bother reacting. another ornament, another political move, another pretty thing he would own in name and duty.

except the first time he saw you, nothing behaved as it should.

you were stiff when they ushered you into the room, eyes lowered, hands clasped so tightly he could see the tension in your knuckles. you bowed on command, answered the formal greetings on command, sat on command. everything so proper. so disciplined. so painfully rehearsed.

and then he saw the tremble under your lashes. the panic in your throat. the grief sitting behind your polite smile.

you didn’t want to be here.

and for reasons naoya couldn’t explain, rage, ugly and immediate, snapped through him like a blade dragged across bone.

the elders excused themselves to "give the young couple space," as though leaving the two of you alone could soften the fact that they had just arranged a lifelong cage between strangers. naoya didn’t speak at first. he simply watched you sit like a cornered animal, breathing too shallow, fingers fidgeting with the hem of your sleeve.

and then he noticed the subtle ache around your eyes, the kind that came from crying recently.

he hated it.

"you’re not happy about this," he said finally, his voice smooth, bored, but sharp around the edges. he didn’t ask. he stated it, like diagnosing a structural flaw in a blade.

your chin lifted the slightest bit. "it wasn’t my choice."

"nothing here is anyone’s choice," he replied.

silence stretched between you, but you held it without flinching. and perhaps that was the moment, that infinitesimal tremor of defiance, when something in naoya shifted.

"i heard," he continued quietly, "you had someone else."

you froze, breath catching so hard it nearly betrayed you.

a lover.

naoya already knew. he had made sure to know.

"i-" you began, voice shaking, "it was before i knew anything about- about this arrangement."

"so you admit it."

your throat bobbed. "yes."

naoya didn’t slam his hand against the table. he didn’t raise his voice. he didn’t need theatrics. he simply leaned forward, and the room temperature plummeted with the force of his attention pinning you in place.

"do you love him?" he asked softly, too softly.

your silence was answer enough.

something cruel and triumphant curled through him.

"he’s not suitable," naoya said, tone flat, absolute. "he has no status. no strength. nothing to offer. he is beneath you. beneath this family. beneath me."

your eyes flashed with something, fear, anger, grief, he couldn’t tell which, and that made him want to smile.

you whispered, "please don’t hurt him."

he tilted his head, as though considering mercy like it was an accessory he didn’t particularly care to wear. "that depends entirely on you."

you stiffened.

he rose slowly, approached you with the confident, deliberate steps of someone who had never once been denied anything he wanted. he stopped just in front of you, close enough that you had to tilt your chin up to meet his gaze.

"look at me," he said, and when you did, he rewarded you with a hand trailing up your jaw, thumb brushing the skin under your eye like he was memorizing your expression. "if you’re going to be mine, you will look at me when i speak to you."

your breath caught.

naoya’s thumb lingered, gentle in a way that should have been tender, but wasn’t. it was possessive. appraising. cataloging you like an item he now owned.

"forget him," he murmured. "you will marry me. you will live here. you will learn how to be a proper wife of the zen'in clan."

your eyes glossed with fresh tears, the grief of losing a life you chose, replaced by one caged in tradition and power.

he leaned closer, voice dropping into something colder.

"and if he so much as writes you a letter," he said, "i’ll erase every branch of his family tree. i’ll make sure his name disappears from every record. i’ll make it as though he never existed."

you gasped, horrified.

naoya smiled.

"but if you behave," he added softly, brushing a tear off your cheek with his knuckle, "nothing needs to happen to him. see? i’m not unreasonable."

you trembled, lips pressed tight, shoulders rigid with helplessness.

he stepped back, satisfied with the way your fight crumpled into silence.

"good," he said. "the engagement feast will be announced tomorrow. you’ll sit beside me. you’ll smile. you’ll look beautiful. and you’ll forget every thought you had of loving someone else."

his eyes softened, dangerously and deceptively.

"because you’re mine now," he finished. "and i won’t tolerate sharing."

[lemonbarb]

You forgot me on Saturn ( satoru x reader )

tw: angst, gojo forgets his day ones as SOON as he gets famous, main character death, mentions of terminal diseases/tumors, death of a parent, heavy grieving, longing, satoru wishes he’d told you he loved you, reader is a sweetheart who was delusional enough to think he'd come back. His ass is NOT coming back.

Syn: Satoru returns to his home town for a memorial, but he doesn’t realize it’s yours. The funeral of your friendship was held years ago, and only you attended. 

He almost didn’t come.

The memorial card had been buried between press notes and brand emails, flagged by his PR team with a yellow star and a single sentence: Good optics. Small hometown. Show your face.

He hadn’t read the name because fame had trained him not to. Well, unless there was a million dollar contract tied to it. Begrudgingly, he tells his team that he’ll go so they get off his back- and honestly, who was he to turn down a good publicity stunt? 

Gojo Satoru humbly mourns his hometowns' loss

He could see the headlines now.

So he flew in on a gray morning with a mega watt smile on his face as he greets the cameras, a bit too jolly, but no one seems to care as they scream questions his way. The noise is deafening, only silenced once the expensive door of his blacked out SUV shuts behind him. The town hadn’t changed at all since he left, it was like it had been stuck in time, and he found himself remembering pivotal landmarks of his childhood as they passed by. The same stupid diner with the flashing, ‘COME EAT’ sign. The same water tower with the peeling paint. Even the church looked smaller than he remembered, like it’s hollow bones had shrunk with every year that passed. 

He remembered why he left this dump. 

Finally, he steps into the service- removing his sunglasses out of habit rather than respect. He wasn’t disturbed by the weeping echoing throughout packed pews, more so by the fact that he had to be bothered to show up to such an insignificant event in the first place. 

That was when he saw the photo.

It sat alone framed in silver and white flowers. A crooked smile. A familiar scar from roughhousing as a kid. A face he hadn’t seen in years, except sometimes in dreams where everything was still the same.

His heart beat against his ribcage like a steel drum.

“Is this a joke?” he whispered, too quietly for anyone to hear, his hands sweating as they clenched deep within his pockets. 

It was you everyone was weeping over.

The kid who’d dared him to sneak out at night. The one who’d sworn they’d get out together. The one who’d stayed when he left. The one six feet under the ground. He stood frozen in the aisle while the world kept moving around him. Old neighbors murmured. Someone sniffed back tears. A woman in black brushed past him; your mother, and she didn’t recognize him at all.

He hadn’t known.

That was the worst part—not the death, not the distance, but the fact that this had happened without him noticing. Without a call. Without a headline. Without his PR team flagging it in yellow. It’s not that you didn’t tell him you were dying, its that he didn’t care to notice.

He slid into the back pew and stared at your photo in a mix of awe, disbelief and…regret. 

“Satoru, we should live on Saturn.” You stretched your short stubby arms above your head and towards the sky where stars began to glitter above you. “That’s silly,” He responds matter of factly, both of his front teeth missing. “Nuh-uh.” You retort, “Yes-huh.” You two go back and forth until the street lights come on and you’re forced to call a truce. “Fine, we can live on Saturn.” And you seal the deal with a pinky promise.

The service blurred. Words like beloved and kind and taken too soon floated past him without landing. Then someone stood to speak.

A familiar voice cracked through the church. Her eyes are the same as yours.

She talked about small things—how you never locked your car, how you either slept for hours or not at all, how you held your friends and family close to your heart.

“Will you come to the dance with me?” You asked at your shared lunch table, your glasses balancing on the bridge of your nose as you picked through your lunchbox. Satoru nearly chokes, his cheeks red. “Seriously?!” You lean back in astonishment, “Oh so-rry, didn’t realize I was that hideous.” He shakes his head at your statement, “No, I…that’s just not how you ask someone to a dance, idiot.” So, he shows up to your house the night of with a shit eating grin and a suit that hangs off of him awkwardly. “You’re silly.” You laugh and he rolls his eyes before slipping a corsage on your wrist. A little charm of Saturn sits along pretty white flowers. 

After the service, he stayed behind, searching for your mother franticlly until finally, he sees her, standing alone by a small angel fountain. “Mrs. (L/N)?” He felt like he’d forgotten how to speak. She turns towards him, and recognition slowly flashes through her eyes before she smiles and waves him over. No dramatics from her, only a greeting. “(Y/n) hoped you would come.” He shakes his head before uttering a small “How?” She purses her lips as if to stop herself from crying before clearing her throat. She explains to him how you’d been sick for a long time, it just didn’t present itself until after your father died. The doctor recommended a scan to make sure the disease wasn’t hereditary, but sure enough…

“Can you believe we graduated?” You sigh in awe, and he watches you from across the table.. High school was behind you now, but while you’d be going to college, Satoru would be having meetings with producers and signing contracts. “No, I can’t believe it.” He said finally. A month after, he left your hometown with a promise on his lips that he’d return for you. “Don’t forget about me superstar.” You joke with a crooked smile. He scoffs and hugs you tight. “How could I?” You stay like that for awhile until the taxis horn honks at him impatiently. He slowly begins to inch towards the car, but quickly turns around, cheeks red as you stare at him expectantly. “(Y/n), I just wanted to say that I…” He pauses, then swallows his confession. “That I’ll text you.” He misses the way your smile falters, and with a final wave you see him off.

He held up his end of the bargain for a while, but it was apparent that his new fast paced life kept him too busy to reach out. His responses and calls began to dwindle, and then, they just didn’t come at all. Worried, you’d shown up to his parents house, only to find that they’d sold the place.

Happy Birthday, Satoru!

4:37 pm

I saw your performance on tv, you killed it!

6:33 pm 

My birthday was yesterday, it was fun, mom took me to that one really fancy restaurant by Cedar St. Miss you!

9:00 pm 

Got my degree today! Sent you an invite, don’t know if you got it. Hope you’re good.

7:45 pm

My dad died this morning, he’d been sick for a while, but the doctors didn’t find the tumor in time. He asked about you not too long ago and I told him about your tour to Sydney. Are the beaches as pretty as they are in the pictures?

8:00 am

It’s been awhile since I texted, I tried to call your PR team but it was a dumb attempt on my part, I should have known you’d be swamped…anyway, i’ll just come out and say that I’m really sick- the doctors think I’ve caught it on time, but I’d still like to at least talk to you in case things turn for the worst.

6:09 pm

satoru! just checking in to see how you are. I thought i'd give a little update just in case you see this. My doctors appointments were looking up until a few weeks ago. They said it’s terminal, same thing that got my dad. I’m in the hospital if you want to stop by- or you can just call me if you get the chance.

8:00 pm

Love you.

7:34 am

He felt like a lie in expensive shoes. A failure of a friend- of a person. “(y/n) was always understanding, Loved you a whole lot.” He bit his cheek. The two of them stood in silence for a long time until your mother gently slipped an envelope into his hand. She didn’t say goodbye, only smiled and walked away. It was light blue, with familiar handwriting on the front.

a letter from you.

 The town was quiet as his SUV slowly drove through its streets. He said nothing as he leaned against the glass, eyes catching the places where you two grew up together. 

Later, his PR team would ask how it went. He’d say, “Fine. Quiet. Did my part.” But that night, alone in a hotel room that smelled like nothing, he took out the envelope and forced himself to read the slip of paper folded inside.

“Dear Satoru, 

 I never forgot about you. It seems a little pathetic now, but I’m not the kind of person that leaves without saying goodbye. I just wanted you to know that our time—short as it was—stayed with me everywhere I went. I carried it quietly, like something fragile I didn’t trust myself to touch too often, but I wish I had been braver. I wish I had more time so that I could have moved on and forgotten about you. 

I don’t hate you, Satoru- and I couldn’t if I tried, but I wonder as I write this if you still remember who you were before fame told you who you should be. I watched your interviews on TV, listened to all your songs so I’d have something to talk to you about when you came back, but you never did. I guess I can’t really blame you. Truthfully, knowing you was a small piece of happiness in a life that didn’t have enough of it.

Even now, those memories feel warm, like something I was lucky to have touched at all. Satoru, I hope you got everything you wished for and I hope you live a full, happy life. 

My final act of love will be letting you go. 

In the envelope sits the Saturn charm he’d given you all those years ago.

[lemonbarb]

Savior ( Yan! Priest Suguru x Fem! Reader )

TW: minors dni, unspecified mention of religion, reader is basically in a cult, nsfw content, sub reader, dubcon, fingering, delusion/obsession, use of petnames, self-blame, isolation, heavy manipulation/coercion, lowkey infantilization, blood, mentions of violence and murder, mentions of prison, lmk if I miss anything else.

synopsis: Priest Suguru finds you in the streets, scared and plagued by an unforgivable sin. He promises that he can save you and in your naivety, you believe him. It wouldn’t be righteous to leave a sweet thing like you all alone, especially not when forgiveness lay right within the tight confines of his arms. 

Priest! Suguru is far from redemption. He isn’t holy, nor is he fair. In fact, as he trails the streets of the long forgotten city slums, he prays to find a lost soul, not to heal, but to devour. You see, to get where he is; to have congregations falling apart at your feet- there has to be a sacrifice. Who better than someone the world won't miss, someone so down on their luck that they’d do anything to be set free. 

Priest! Suguru finds humans to be dirty, unclean creatures, but his gentle smile hides his ill intentions. As he offers the unfortunate a warm meal and a place to sleep, he also offers their soul and like a wolf in sheep’s clothing, his prey is none the wiser until he sinks his teeth in. 

Light, methodic footsteps echo throughout cavernous dark alley streets. suguru, in his onyx robe and polished shoes, stalks calmly- hands clasped behind his back in a manner unusual for normal dwellers of the area. He can feel the eyes burning into him, some hungry, others scared. the seasoned inhabitants of the dark city know that when someone goes with “ the priest “, they don’t return. Unfortunately, not everyone takes heed to the subtle warnings spoken under moonlight and terrified eyes can only watch as countless souls follow him into the night. Their word is nothing against a priests. 

He keeps his pace as he hums a gentle song, nothing in particular catching his eye until a yelp echos from a nearby alleyway. He pauses before curiously strolling over- more than surprised by what he sees. There you stand, body heavy as you glue yourself against the nearest brick wall. A man twice your size lays before you, crimson soaking through the obvious gash in his chest. Warm blood slugs down your skin, but from the looks of it, it isn’t yours.

“What do we have here?” He chides lightly causing you to whip your head in his direction, eyes crazed as you hold a ragged knife in your shaking hands. Words can hardly find you before you’re a slobbering snotty mess. “Shhhhh,” He coos with a gentle, condescending smile as he steps toward you- his larger hand coming up to pat your back as he watches your pathetic weapon clatter to the ground. “I didn’t mean to, he-“ You can hardly catch your breath, but he doesn’t mind. It’s clear that you’d acted in self defense, and if found by the police he’s sure they’d believe you, but…

“Your name?” He asks as he studies you, his lip curling in disgust as he takes a piece of your crimson covered hair between his fingers. You’re hesitant as you glance up at him, eyes doing a once over of his attire before you hesitantly answer. “Y/N.” Your lip quivers as you wipe your cheeks, “P-please, I don’t want to go to jail-“ he hums in response and places a large hand on your shoulder. 

“You won’t.”

Priest! Suguru asks you a few more questions, each one more invasive than the last. You tell him that your parents had kicked you out for some minor argument and that you’d never really been in trouble in your adult life- well, until now.

Priest! Suguru gives you an ultimatum- either he turns you into the police, or, you agree to come with him to his temple so that he can rid you of your sin. 

If you’d known his true intentions you’d have chosen prison, but alas, you’re too naive, too sweet. So, with his hand on your lower back, he leads you into the night.

Priest! Suguru takes it slow, if you can call it that. In exchange for his silence and somewhere warm to sleep, he makes you his 'understudy'. You help him take care of the temple since his illusive friend satoru seems to be utterly useless. It's also apparent that he seems more than happy to have you under his care.

You’re not sure what your job really entails since you mostly just keep him company, but jail wouldn’t be nearly as forgiving so you don’t ask questions.

Priest! Suguru deems you a pleasant distraction and decides early on that you aren’t meant to be a sacrifice. You’re meant to be his. He sees something in you that you don’t see in yourself, something new, something that can be redeemed. He first takes notice during a particularly powerful sermon- he’s wiping the sweat from his brow and as he glances over at you, the moon shines through the stained glass window in a way that makes you look nearly angelic. He’s sees it all the time after that. It’s in the way your pretty eyes stare into his as you recite his doctrine, in the curve of your breasts as you undress to bathe. 

“Hello, dove.” His voice startles you as you sit beneath the trees of his private garden, his steps eerily silent. “Oh, hello Master Geto.” You blanch and begin to stand, but a heavy hand on your shoulder stops you from rising further. He begins to usher you gently down to your knees and without much resistance you fall into position. “I thought I told you to call me Suguru.” You bite the inside of your cheek and nod, “I’m sorry, Suguru. I’m…working on it.” You promise. It’s hard to remember when everyone in his congregation calls him by a formal title. His smile widens and he hums as he runs his fingers through your hair. “Such a sweet girl, how could anyone ever cast you astray.” It’s not a question so you don’t answer, but that doesn't stop it from stinging. The silence is your only ally as it curls around the two of you, his fingers probing at your soft flesh.

“You’re special, dove.” 

Your brows furrow in confusion, “Special?” Suguru nods, gracefully sinking to his knees infront of you. He casts a shadow with the size of his body, the sun lost behind his figure as it halos around him. “Yes, special. In fact, I’d go as far as to say you’re precious.” His fingers trail down to the warmth of your cheek, his inky hair cascading over you both. “The others,” His face hardens in disgust, “They are unable to be saved.” His grip tightens and you whimper, “But you, dove…” Suguru leans in close and your breath hitches as he trails his hand downwards, fingers firm against you until he’s gripping your shoulder with flimsy restraint. His tongue wets his lips and your breath quickens, but before he loses control, he’s back on his feet like he’d never been on his knees in the first place. You stare up at him with your fists clenched in your skirt. “I’ll see you at dinner.” 

Priest! suguru who watches you throughout his entire sermon, and when it's done, you can feel him staring into the side of your head as he squeezes your conjoined hands in personal prayer. 

Priest! Suguru who makes sure none of the cult members get close to you, and if they do they’re quickly disposed of. 

Priest! Suguru who takes on the role of a mentor, a caregiver. He’s careful and forgiving, but if you ever begin to hint that you’re ready to leave, he will say that you’re not done with whatever moral lesson you need to learn, and if you insist, that’s when he gets mean. 

“Go back to your family?” He questions grimly, his hand on his chin as he observes your squirming form before him. You avoid his gaze, but it’s the suitcase by your side that he’s worried about. “Well, it’s…been months now, I just-“ He cuts you off with a raised hand and a smile, one so sharp you almost take it for a grimace. “Yes it has, but I think you’ve forgotten why you’re here in the first place, dove.” You blanch and sink into your seat. Oh, how could you forget. “I have taken you under my wing,” He begins as he inches towards you, “Fed you, clothed you, mentored you, saved you.” He’s so close to your face now that you can feel his lips brush against your own. 

“You owe me your life.” 

Priest! Suguru who has engrained the fact that you are not welcome in society into your mind. “If your family didn’t want you before, they definitely don’t want you now- you little murderer.” He jokes meanly, your suitcase is thrown halfway across the room. “If you really want to take my kindness for granted, I can always just go to the police.”

Priest! Suguru who can’t help but smile when you beg not to be turned in, who makes you promise that you won’t leave unless he permits. ( and he never will )

Priest! Suguru whose reigns on you pull so tight you can hardly breathe. No longer can you sit with others during the congregation- Instead, you’re perched on his lap as he speaks, tightly ensnared in his arms as he focuses on the lace of your dress rather than the actual prayer. 

Priest! Suguru who changes your entire schedule to match his own. When he prays, you pray. When he eats, you eat. When he sleeps, you sleep. Matter of fact, he’s changed where you live entirely- and his congregation is none the wiser since they all mysteriously slink back to their normal lives once the sermon is over. Not that they'd question his actions anyway.

Priest! Suguru who quiets you when you object to the new arrangement, telling you that it’s better this way.

You fall into his routine robotically because he doesn’t allow anything else. You sleep in his arms, he picks your outfits, brushes your hair, makes your food. It’s almost as if he’s serving you, but that idea is quickly shot down when one cold winter night, he slips his fingers between your thighs and not between his holy book. 

“What are you doing-?!” You gasp in horror, thighs closing immediately. Sugurus smiling when he looks up at you, his other hand following his first as he wrenches your legs apart. “You have nothing to be afraid of anymore, dove.” He lilts as your eyes begin to water. His fingers are warm despite the winter chill, and as he rubs slow circles against your clothed cunt you can’t help but give in because you really should be grateful, shouldn't you? He milks wanton noises past your lips and before you can blink, he’s slipping a long finger inside of your tight hole. “Remember,” He whispers against the skin of your thigh as he works you open with one hand and undoes his belt with the other, “I’m the only one who can save you.” 

Priest! Suguru, who sees nothing wrong with his actions. how could he when the fruits of his labour are so deliciously sweet? 

[lemonbarb]

Hello! Can I get a Satoru x Reader where they were haven't seen each other in years and they run into each other and get smutty?

tw: super short, mentions of sex, minors dni, satoru x g/n reader, mentions of marriage, barely there angst, satoru cries, mentions of mating press, creampie, pinning, plotting

- it’s been what, seven years since you last saw satoru?

- we'll keep it short and say that your relationship ended on somewhat of a sour note. he promised to forget you existed, and you? well you moved halfway across the world.

- it isn’t until a mutual friend of yours gets married that you two cross paths again, and to say you’re surprised by the change he’s undergone would be an understatement.

- at the reception, you expect to see the immature shell of a man he’s always been: loud, ignorant, attention seeking- but instead, you're met with wire rimmed glasses and bright cerulean eyes that dance around the room with a quiet magnetism you’d never seen. He’s as beautiful as he’s always been, but the air around him is foreign to you. he’s matured, and from what you heard he teaches at a school.

- as for you, well, you’d been on many adventures throughout the years- changing hairstyles, meeting new people, partying with the elite. In short, you hadn’t been miserable like he hoped you’d be after you broke his heart.

- Despite being surrounded by old friends, satoru catches sight of you almost immediately. He nearly chokes on his champagne, but stops himself- opting to stare at you in awe whenever you aren’t looking.

- Your laughter echos around you in happy waves, and the shine in your eyes, the one he’d never really fallen out of love with, twinkles in his direction. Maturity follows you now and honestly, despite the many nights he wished you succumb to karma- You’re still perfect.

- You two flit around one another the entire night, never close, but never too far- almost like your bodies gravitate towards one another without trying. your eyes catch one another briefly, but just as they’re about to melt together you rip your gaze away. It goes on like this until the night slowly begins to come to a close. stories and alcohol dwindle, and then you’re left by yourselves, the music lilting on in the background as you allow liquid courage to carry your feet towards him.

- “Gojo,” You smile at him once you’re close enough, shoulders barely brushing as he acknowledges you with a surprised, but not unwelcome stare. “It’s been awhile, how are you?”

- He doesn’t answer for awhile, only acknowledges you with unreadable eyes. you thought it only fair to give your hearts the chance to say hello, or goodbye, for the final time. You were getting older now, and your one off chances of encountering one another were quickly dwindling. If you didn’t talk to him now, you weren’t sure you’d ever have the chance to again.

- for once in his life, he’s not really sure what to say. You’re even more breathtaking up close, and he finds himself swallowing heavy before speaking. “Good. I’ve…been good.”

- You’re not sure how you ended up in his hotel room. Or how you ended up in a mating press so brutal you can hardly breathe, but it’s apparent that the both of you missed each other, and he makes sure your body remembers exactly who it belongs to.

- He flips and folds and fucks into you like a man starved, his hand clasped around you throat as warm tears smear against your collar bone.

- “You can’t leave me again, please-“ He cries as he ruts into you with fervor, his forehead pressed against yours as your wrists find themselves pinned above your head. You’re cock drunk, but he doesn’t let up without hearing you promise that you’ll never leave him again, that you won’t break his heart the same way you did all those years ago.

- With half a mind you agree, and he takes that as an invitation to claim you fully. Marking you up and cumming inside you so many times you can’t fathom what being empty feels like.

- He takes you for hours, and it isn’t until the sunlight trickles through the curtains that he lets you rest. With a pleased smile and a grip so tight you can hardly move, he places a gentle, possessive kiss on your lips.

- “Still just as pretty as ever.” You find the energy to scoff before letting sleep finally take you, a soft snore falling past your lips as he watches you with unmoving eyes. His plan had worked and from outside the hotel room door, your friends high-five one another, excitedly discussing the fact that your wedding will be next.

[segamascott]

[lemonbarb]

( favorite neighbor, pt.2 ) perv!satoru x reader x suguru

tw: minors dni, rough sex, yandere themes, obsessive behavior, cheating?, threesome, fem reader, isolation and slight misogyny, fingering, crying during sex, heavy manipulation/coercion, lowkey infantilization/mommy suguru, hair pulling, satoru is creepy, not proofread, do you know how the second movie is always worse than the first? yeah.

synopsis: One is by accident, two is by fate, and three? well that means it’s meant to be. satoru has finally got you where he wants you- unsuspecting, pliant, and in his arms. truthfully, the two of you are perfect as is, but everyone knows that the third times a charm. This one just happens to be named , Suguru. 

pt.1

Your relationship with Satoru blooms like flowers in spring despite the steady cold that lingers over your city. The days are dark, but he lights up every room he's in, so you hardly notice. It helps that you two get along really well. For instance, you’ve got the same taste in almost everything; movies, food, music. It’s definitely not because he’s a stalker, it’s just a coincidence! A happy miracle if you will. I mean, what are the chances of your new neighbor being the love of your life? 

no really…what are the chances?

Let’s be honest, Satoru is practically perfect ( but you’re not stupid enough to believe he has no flaws. ) Any cracks that he does have aren’t easy to see, but they show, and boy do you begin to realize how strange he actually is. He’s got a bad habit of peaking around corners to stare at you when he thinks you’re not looking and when you get scared, he just laughs and pinches your cheek- mumbling about how cute you are when you think you’re alone.

Oh, and he’s got a weird obsession with everything coming in threes; pillows, coffee mugs, toothbrushes. 

You chalk it up to him buying extra just in case of an emergency and yes, he's definitely odd...but it's easy to get used to his quirks when he fucks you as good as he does. Plus, you're still relatively new to the area, so hanging out with him makes things easier to manage.

- You also begin to notice him growing antsy, especially when he’s on the phone with his best friend, Suguru. He’s not really secretive about anything aside from that- you’ll ask if he’s okay and he’ll reassure you with a searing kiss that makes you forget you ever asked.

- He’s does that a lot actually. There’s never really been a disagreement between the two of you because he doesn’t allow one to fester. If you ever start to get upset, he’s quick to fix it, and if he can’t fix it, he’ll make you forget it was ever a problem in the first place. 

- Once you’re fucked out and on the brink of unconsciousness, he’ll ask you a simple question, “What were you saying earlier, baby?” Drearily, you’ll stare at him in confusion, muttering a soft, “huh? I dunno what you’re talkin’ about…” He’ll beam at you and pepper a few sweet kisses on your cheeks while you fade into unconsciousness. “That’s what I thought.” 

- Gosh, he really is suchhhh a good boyfriend. ( even though he never officially asked you to date him ) for example, when you get an eviction notice on your door telling you that you need to be out in a week, he immediately opens up his home to you, no questions asked.

“Are you sure, toru’? I don’t want to intrude.” You're uncomfortable, but he scoffs at your silliness and pulls you close. “You’re never intruding, sweetheart. Plus, it’s not like you really stay at your own place anyway. Half of your stuff is here already.” And he’s right, you really haven’t seen much of your house at all since you two started talking. All you do is work, hangout with satoru, rinse and repeat. 

Suddenly though, you’re let go from your job with no explanation, and of course your doting boyfriend Satoru comes to the rescue, again!! He promises that it’s not a problem, that he’ll take care of you. All you need to do is stay home, spread your pretty thighs when he asks you to and put those new baking skills to use. 

This becomes your routine, and really it’s not all that bad. You spend your days cooking, or reading or playing the big grand piano that sits infront of Satoru’s bay window. It’s peaceful, and he’s keen on making sure you stay entertained while he’s gone. You do find yourself growing a little lonely though, and over time you make all the recipes and play all of the piano compositions you can find. It’s not enough, and pretty soon you find yourself lounging lazily on the couch, eyes drooping as you rewatch the same movies over and over.

Satoru is quick to notice the lack of enrichment ( because this fucking freak has cameras in his house ) and decides that now is the perfect time to introduce you to his best friend, boyfriend suguru, who’ll be renting out the “spare bedroom.” 

You hadn’t expected Suguru to be so…attractive. Satoru talks about him often, calls him often- but you’d never seen his face until now. “Y/n. Lovely to meet you.” His hand dwarfs yours and you nearly jump out of your skin when he brings your fingers to his lips to place a gentle kiss. You whip your head towards Satoru, but he isn’t angry in the slightest. He’s…giddy? There’s a smile on his face as he regards the two of you, nearly buzzing in excitement at seeing his two favorite people getting along.

- there’s some obvious awkwardness around suguru at first...you’re not used to having someone else in the house while satoru is gone, and he's kind of intimidating, but over time you find that he’s actually super friendly and polite! it’s not hard to acclimate to his presence like you thought it'd be. He’s a welcome distraction in an otherwise quiet house.

- He cures your boredom by taking up every hour of your day with something to enhance your skills. Whether it be painting, making sweet treats for satoru, or his absolute favorite activity; yoga. 

- You’re not very good at it at first, the stretches are uncomfortable and your muscles burn- but suguru is right behind you every step of the way, pushing and prodding and pulling your body towards him with a sweet smile. 

- “Come on, you’re almost there,” He coos while pushing you farther into a split, hand heavy on your lower back as your eyes water. He’s patient with you though, and in due time you finally reach the mat. “Good girl, I knew you could do it,” his thumb glides across your cheek to catch a stray tear, “Satoru is going to be so proud of you when he gets home.” 

The conditioning started slow at first, suguru would make you breakfast and brush your hair- start your shower and give you friendly hugs when you’d pad into the kitchen in the morning with crazy hair. "My goodness," He'd sigh while wiping the blurriness from your eyes with a warm rag. "Someone slept good." He was doting- motherly almost...and you're are never quite sure how to take it, especially since suguru insists like it's normal. Ofc, you decline the help, but satoru gives you a stern talking to- says you’re being rude and that you "hurt suguru's feelings."

You don't argue after that.

Next came forced proximity. “C’mere baby.” Satoru pats the spot between them on the couch with a teasing smile. Their eyes are glued to your every move as you awkwardly walk towards them and cramp yourself into the tiny spot in the middle. It’s uncomfortable, but as the movie progresses you eventually find yourself cozily wrapped up between them. Satoru rubs your back while suguru plays with you hair and unsurprisingly, you fall asleep.

They do this so much that you don’t really think twice when Suguru starts sleeping in the bed with the two of you. “Are you sure you won’t be more comfortable on the couch?” you ask, but he just smiles. There’s a half assed excuse from Satoru about “renovating” , but days turn to weeks without action and slowly, you forget that it was ever mentioned at all. Things now are routine and “normal” between the three of you-

Until they aren’t. 

- you wake up on the couch with bleary eyes and a warm blanket tucked around you. Neither Satoru or Suguru are anywhere to be found, it’s just the moonlight shining through the curtains, and you. 

- the only thing that makes you move is growl of your stomach since apparently you had fallen asleep before dinner. You pad towards the kitchen with a yawn, passing the front door, and then the stairs and- 

You stop dead in your tracks. 

- you can hear movement, but it’s not normal- it’s wrong. your stomach drops as you quietly make your way to the second floor, brows furrowed as you try to make out what you’re hearing. 

Familiar moans, the slapping of skin. 

The bedroom door at the end of the hallway is slightly ajar- leaving only a sliver of light to guide you. Without tripping, you stalk closer- heart pounding in your chest as you quietly peak through the crack. 

What you see has your stomach twisting in knots- nothing could have ever prepared you to see your boyfriend and his best friend having sex, but get this, what really steals the cake are the pair of lace panties shoved in Satoru’s mouth while he takes suguru’s cock like a whore.

your lace panties. 

You try to look away, but you’re stuck watching, face contorting from horror to disbelief as they touch eachother with a fervor and passion reserved for lovers. 

It clicks then, all of it.

The secretive phone calls, the way they treat to you, touch you- how they smile at eachother when they think you’re not looking- the hugs between friends that teeter on the line of inappropriate. The odd shadows looming over you while you sleep. Losing your job, your house, your friends. All of it. You’d been stupidly blind and you immediately make the sudden choice to pack what you could and leave quietly- though, just as you try to stand, the wood beneath your feet lets out a loud and unmistakable creak. 

silence. 

you instantly bolt down the stairs two at a time, vision blurry as you fling yourself towards the door. Your fingers, shaking with adrenaline, find the doorknob and for a brief moment you grasp it.

Unfortunately you're just not quick enough. the door is slammed shut before you can open it all the way and you’re yanked up so roughly the air leaves your lungs. “Where do you think you’re going?” You manage to make out the uncharacteristically mean voice of suguru. There’s no gentleness in his tone or his grip as you try to rip yourself out of his arms. 

“Get off of me!” You seethe, nails leaving red marks on his porcelain skin as he drags you upstairs and into your shared bedroom. He lets you go, and you crumble to the floor with a thump. It’s not enough to stop you from hurling yourself back towards the door, but suguru shuts it before you get the chance. You’re stuck.

“Sweet girl,” A silky voice echos from behind you and you freeze. “what’s wrong?” Satoru’s hand circles around your wrist, but you bite back. “Don’t call me that.” You spit while whipping towards him. hurt briefly flashes through his powder blue eyes, but it quickly settles, and in its place lies cold, hard steel. 

“If you let us explain,"

You cut him off, perplexed that he’d even insinuate something as stupid as an explanation, “Fuck your explanation. I don’t need the filthy details-“ Your words hang in the air as you’re firmly snatched up by Satoru, who stares at you with eyes so cold you nearly feel yourself starting to freeze. Your tippy toes graze the floor as he fists your collar and pulls you close.

“Watch it.” He snarls, practically regarding you the same way an owner regards a disobedient pet. “This ungrateful, nasty attitude of yours won’t get you anywhere.” Tears begin to well up in your eyes and you can’t stop your voice from trembling.

“You…you’ve been lying to me, I’m just so confused. How do you want me to react?!” You cry, a fresh set of hot tears streaming down your face as you finally burst. Satoru’s gaze softens almost immediately and you’re quickly ensnared in a hug. You don’t return it, but he doesn’t seem to mind as he pulls away to cup your sticky cheeks. “I know, sweetheart, but to understand you need to listen. I told you I’d take care of you, remember?” You stare up at him blankly for a moment before nodding. He grabs your hand and gently leads you to sit on the bed. For half a second your gaze flickers towards the door, but one glance at suguru tells you there’s no use in trying to escape. 

- eventually, you do stop crying, and they sandwich you between them as they “explain” whatever the hell was going on. apparently this was the plan all along, for all of you to be together. “We knew you needed time, sweet girl. We were just trying to do what was best for you.” Suguru whispers while tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. You fight the urge to spit in his face, but a firm grip on your thigh reminds you to behave. 

- For two hours straight, they manipulate you- confuse you- berate you. “We’ve done nothing but take care of you and this is how you repay us?” Satoru’s voice is laced with disappointment and you try to defend yourself, but they’re so deep in your head that you don’t even realize you’re beginning to fold inwards. 

- In the end, you find yourself on your knees infront of them, head aching from how much you’ve cried. your hands clasp together as you beg for them to forgive you, and they can only smile down at you in mock pity. 

“I don’t know,” Suguru tuts, “You don’t look very apologetic to me.” You whimper as he cups your chin with a stern grip. “If you’re really sorry, y/n. Prove it.” 

So you do, the only way you know how. 

You sniffle as Suguru slides his cock into your mouth, eyes squeezing shut he hits the back of your throat with a groan. You’re on all fours, naked, and struggling to breathe.“So fuckin’ wet.” Satoru coos from behind you, one hand spreading you apart so he can get a full view of your sticky cunt while he plays with your tight hole. “If you had just come to us like a good girl instead of tryin’ to run, this could have turned out so much different, baby.” you can’t help but moan as his fingers press against the sensitive button deep inside you. A firm pat to your cheek has you gazing back up at Suguru who’s slow fucking your throat so deep you feel like you’re gonna pass out. “Eyes on me, brat.”

You do your best to follow their orders, but its nearly impossible to keep up. You go from being finger fucked and suffocated to laid out. Sugurus sweaty body is beneath you, your back to his chest. He whistles as he hooks his hands under your knees and spreads you wide. “There you go. Just like I taught you.” A small whine escapes your lips, but it’s quickly replaced by a moan when you feel Satoru’s heavy cock nudge against your entrance. He’s grinning above you, the same way he did when you and Suguru met for the first time. 

“You gonna take it like a good girl?” You don’t say anything, but a pinch to your nipple has you shakily replying, “Y-yes.” With an impatient hum, you’re slowly split open on his cock- your back tries to arch, but Suguru keeps you pinned, chest vibrating with laughter as his tongue slides against the shell of your ear. 

The time it takes satoru to relentlessly pound into you amounts to seconds. his moans muffled by Sugurus mouth as he beats your pussy into oblivion. “Ungh- fuck,” He says once he breaks their kiss, eyes hazy as he cages you in with his arms on either side. “You’re stupid if you think you could ever leave us.” He snarls meanly, grabbing your face and forcing you to look at him, not past him. 

“You’re mine; ours.” He pants, “Say it.” And you do, you say it until you feel like your throat is going to bleed- but somehow it’s still not enough. Because it never is. when Satoru finally pulls out with a mean slap to your ass, you hiss- weakly attempting to crawl away, before being dragged back by your ankle. 

“No running.” Suguru hums while forcing you to your knees and slotting himself behind you. his tip nudges against your sticky hole and you groan as he grabs a fist full of your hair. Satoru takes his place infront of you, tongue hungrily lapping at your tits while his fingers rub your clit. You wish it didn’t feel good, but it does and they know it just as well as you do. 

“Say you’re sorry,” Suguru growls, “That you love us, and that you’ll never try to fucking leave again.” You sniffle and mumble a small, “Sorry.” But that barely cuts it, 

“Tsk, disobedient girl, say it like you mean it~” Satoru reprimands a little too cheerfully and sugurus grip on your hair tightens as a warning. If you thought your throat was raw before, you were wrong. They continue to make you repeat it until your mind goes blank. You’re drooling a mess of incomprehensible words, but they don’t seem to mind.

I love you. I’m sorry. I’m yours. 

You’re not sure if your punishment lasts for hours or days, but by the end of it you’re cuddled between them with sweet kisses being pressed against your bruised skin. Apparently, after being fucked so hard you couldn’t stand/passed out, they’d cleaned you up. 

Your pussy however, remains stuffed full of their cum and it sticks uncomfortably to your thighs as a brutal reminder of who you belong to. The weight of their bodies covers you entirely, but if someone asked you what weighed the most- you’d say without a doubt that it’s the new diamond ring on your left hand. 

( age must be in your bio if you want to be tagged in the future ) 

tags: @zeniiis

[lemonbarb]

hey queen bae! could you possibly write a hero suguru smut where he gets turned into a girl by a curse and him and fem!reader have sex ;) ty bb!!!

long live fem!suguru

TW: genderbend suguru, fem x fem, dom leaning reader, sub leaning suguru, oral, shower sex, mentions of face riding, reader has to lock in bc she’s selling, reader is also highkey disappointed when she wakes up without woman tits in her face but it’s ok. super rushed, forgive me.

________

I think that if a curse turned suguru into a girl for a day, you’d find that she’s not much different from male!suguru at all. In fact, you’ll still wake up with an arm wrapped around your waist and sweet kisses on your shoulders. fem!suguru handles her transformation with patience, just like she handles everything else. she doesn’t curse or seethe in anger, she only grabs the soft curve of her hips with a curious squeeze. “How interesting.”

Safe to say you’re absolutely fucking gobsmacked because waking up to your bf who’s suddenly your gf isn’t what you expected on a random saturday morning.

“It should wear off by tomorrow.” She shrugs and gives your cheek a sweet kiss before walking downstairs. You slink down after her and watch as she makes breakfast. Her silky hair falling the same way it always has, dancing across her lower back in soft waves. Clearly, Suguru has always been beautiful, but as you watch her do menial tasks, you can’t ignore the way your heart throbs. ( something else is throbbing too, but we’re not talking ab that yet. )

The morning stretches on and when she finally notices you lingering in the doorway, she ushers you over to the table with a gentle smile. “Will you be a good girl and eat all of your breakfast today?” She dutifully tucks your hair behind your ear and you quite nearly explode- mumbling something along the lines of yes ( mommy )

Despite your awe, you’re doing a decent job at not weird about whatever the fuck is going on. If we’re being honest though, suguru makes it really hard to keep any sort of composure. She’s bent over infront of you, her now giant sleep shirt riding up and revealing the soft plush of her thighs. ‘I’m no better than a man’ , you simper to yourself while attempting to hide the fact that you’re staring and, wait-

is she wearing your thongs..?

You’re so focused on trying to figure out when the fuck she put them on that you don’t notice she’s infront of you until you’re looking up at her. “Something wrong?” She questions with a small smile, her thumb stroking against your burning cheek. You shake your head no, because there isn’t anything wrong, you’re just- “You’re my girlfriend. Nothing has changed aside from,” suguru gestures to her body before pinching your cheek, “This, obviously.”

You gape like a fish without water, “Right, okay, well- do you wanna take a shower first? Maybe I should? I wont take long-” The words fall from your lips faster than you can catch them and she frowns at your obvious insolence. “Why? Don’t we always shower together, pretty girl?”

Gulp

That’s how the two of you end up chest to chest, steam curling around your bodies as you grind into her thigh. You’re caging her against the wall as she pants into your mouth, cunt clenching as she slips her rolls your nipple between her fingers. It isn’t until her hand, albeit delicate, firmly grabs your wrist and guides you to her dripping heat that you pull away. “Touch me, please- wanna’ know what it feels like.” Suguru whimpers against your lips, and you’re fucking shell shocked that she’s even begging, but you oblige anyway.

“Well,” You start, “I like it when you do this to me…” You slip two fingers into her soaked cunt. Her head falls against your shoulder and she squeezes around you with a pitiful whimper. “Feels good, doesn’t it?” She nods, and you speed up, almost immediately finding that spongy button that makes her breath catch in her chest. You can tell that she’s close, but right as she’s about to cum she roughly pushes you to your knees.

Your confusion is quickly replaced once you understand what she wants, “So pushy. No please?” Suguru whimpers as you trail a hand up her thigh, “Please.” before you know it she’s fisting your hair as you lap at her cunt- her thighs quake in an attempt to keep herself standing, and she cums, she nearly doubles over, a sob escaping her chest as she fights to regain control. “Fuck,” You stare up at her in awe, her slick connected to your lips in a thin line. You didn’t care that your knees are digging into the tile- not when she’s looking down at you like you’re heaven sent.

After a few intense moments, she brushes your wet hair away from your face, her gaze falling to the way your fingers desperately toy with your clit

“Your turn, pretty girl.”

_______

You wake up the next day, cheek pressed against the chest of Suguru, who’s now back to his normal self. You can’t fight the look of disappointment that flashes across your face when your hand can’t find purchase on his once super plush chest. “What’s wrong?” He asks gently, inky hair spilling around you the same way it had the day before. “Oh nothing…” You eye the hickies on his skin and think back to how pretty fem!suguru looked when you were riding her face.

“Just sad that it wore off so soon.”

“Oh?” He laughs at the evident pout on your face and hugs you close to his chest. “Guess I’ll just have to remind you that I’m just as good when I’m a man.”

[drxwsyni]

nobody, if it’s not you︱naoya zen’in x maid!f!reader

“Then, you realize that danger you’re sensing is him. The way he picks up on even the smallest of your movements, a hawk eyeing its prey, toying with it. Knowing that by the time he swoops in for the kill, you’ll be too tired to fight back, caught in your weakest moment and left to wait for him to tear you apart.” a/n: k so this is a VERY LATE submission to @sugawara-sweetheart’s decadence collab! this was such a pleasure to write, which is why it got to be so long hehehe. words: 4k warnings: noncon/dubcon, misogyny, infidelity (kind of), blood, vague depictions of violence

The attack on the Zen’in estate was over before it even began. Whoever the assailants were, their bodies were reduced to bloody ribbons of flesh at Naoya’s hands before your eyes.

Though, what proceeded the bloody turn of events was even more sinful. Yet, you saw it coming. Merely three days prior had practically sealed your fate; a conversation with Naoya, one you’ll never forget.

⸺⸻

Yet to have even turned the corner to the hall leading to his office, and you could already hear the sounds of dispute bouncing off the walls. Two voices―one shrill and desperate, the other distinctly irritated, but not necessarily loud. He didn’t need to be after all, when the sheer meaningful force behind his words were powerful enough to discern even from where you now stood on the other side of the large wooden doors.

Nothing you hadn’t heard before, familiar and degrading phrases muffled slightly by the walls meeting your ears, directed harshly at the poor women in his company. You tuned them out, partly because it was none of your business, but also because the unbridled loathsomeness behind the sentiments were enough to make you wince, as if you were on the receiving end of such statements yourself.

Were it not for the undeniable commotion of glass shattering, you suspect their feud would’ve continued for ages.

The sound of heeled shoes hastily nearing the doors prompted you to shuffle to the side, right in time to avoid the woman barging out who’d been reduced to a mess of tears and heavy breathing. She passed you without a glance, storming off down the same hall you came from, continuing until no longer in your sight.

Out of consideration, as was your job, you remained outside the office for a minute or two. Allowing the storm inside to pass, just long enough so that you weren’t caught up in it. Though, you couldn’t wait too long―the tea you carried would get cold after all.

As per instructions, you politely knocked on the door, not entering before you heard a low and disinterested sounding admission from the other side. And, just as gracefully, you bowed your head to the man standing by the floor to ceiling windows on the other side of the room.

Keep reading

[sugary-strawberry-shortcake]

Unfit for Containment

(Yandere Satosugu x Reader)

summary:

A young intern is sent to a remote mental health facility, where the walls hum with secrets and the patients are anything but ordinary. Bright-eyed and gentle, she quickly draws attention from the very individuals others fear to speak to. Her kindness becomes her greatest strength—and her most dangerous vulnerability. As she navigates carefully controlled sessions and unsettling smiles behind glass, it becomes clear: some attachments form quietly… and hold on far too tightly.

The sky was grey when she arrived. Not the kind of grey that promised a storm—just the kind that felt… blank. The kind that dulled everything it touched.

But she didn’t mind.

Her suitcase bumped against her ankle as she stepped onto the narrow road leading up to the institution gates, her shoes light and floral against the concrete. A soft pink cardigan clung to her shoulders, a little bow clipped in her hair just above her ear. She looked like she belonged in a university classroom, maybe a garden café. Not here. Not in front of the looming gates of Kuroioka Institute—tall, stark, and silent.

Still, she smiled to herself. This was it. Her first real placement.

She reached for the intercom.

“Hi! Um, this is (Y/N). I’m the new psychology intern? I think I’m a little early, sorry—”

“You’re on time.”

The voice was calm. Male.

The gate creaked.

And then a man in a beige coat stepped into view, his blonde hair neat, his expression unreadable. He held a clipboard in one hand and looked at her like he already regretted everything.

“Nanami Kento,” he said. “You’ll be reporting to me during your internship.”

“Oh! Okay—thank you!” She stuck out her hand politely. “It’s really nice to meet you, Nanami-san. I’ve heard so much about—”

He shook it, but barely. “Let’s not waste time.”

Inside, the halls were even colder than she expected. White walls, white floor, white ceiling. It didn’t feel like a hospital. It didn’t feel like anything.

“Your room is in the south wing,” Nanami explained. “Third floor. Shared kitchenette, communal laundry. You’ll be evaluated weekly, and you’ll submit your reports directly to me unless stated otherwise.”

She nodded enthusiastically, hugging her folder to her chest.

“Most of the patients here are transferred from state psychiatric containment,” he continued. “Classified cases. Experimental protocols. You’ll observe. Document. Never engage unless authorized.”

Her eyes widened slightly, but she kept smiling. “That sounds intense…”

He looked at her out of the corner of his eye.

“You’ll meet the head of the institute today. Brief introduction. Then Dr. Ieiri in diagnostics. She’ll explain the med distribution process.”

She nodded again, bouncing slightly on her toes. “Okay! I’ll do my best!”

He said nothing.

⸻

She didn’t understand why everyone looked so serious. The people in the meeting room barely acknowledged her, except for one man—an older, suited figure with dead eyes and a too-thin smile—who called her “a fresh perspective” and “delightful.” He didn’t look at her face when he said it.

Nanami stood to the side, stiff, unmoving.

When they dismissed her, he escorted her down the hall silently.

“You’re meeting with Dr. Ieiri next,” he said without looking at her. “East diagnostics.”

“Yes, sir!” she chirped, still smiling.

He frowned. “Don’t call me sir.”

She giggled softly. “Okay, Nanami-san.”

He stopped in front of the diagnostics door.

“Wait here. She’s just finishing up. I’ll come get you when she’s ready.”

She nodded and perched herself on the bench, legs crossed at the ankle, smoothing her skirt and humming under her breath. Everything was going well so far. The place was a little… clinical. And the people were intense. But she could handle that.

She was here to help. That’s what mattered.

⸻

Thirty minutes passed.

The hallway remained silent.

Then the door creaked open.

Nanami stepped out.

And his face was different.

His jaw was clenched. His grip on the clipboard white-knuckled. He wasn’t just annoyed—he looked angry.

She stood up quickly. “Is everything okay—?”

He didn’t answer right away. He looked down at her like she was a puzzle someone had forced him to solve.

“They’ve finalized your patient assignments,” he said flatly.

“Oh, great! Who will I be working with?”

A pause.

He looked away.

“Gojou Satoru and Getou Suguru.”

She blinked.

There was silence.

Then she smiled again. “Those are the ones from the level five wing, right?”

“Correct.”

Her head tilted. “That’s strange. Weren’t they… uh, sealed for behavioral instability? I thought only the senior psychiatrists handled—”

“They do,” Nanami cut in. “But the board made a decision.”

His voice was colder now. His eyes unreadable.

“No one else has managed to keep consistent observation time with them. Your assignment begins tomorrow.”

She hesitated. Her smile faltered—just slightly.

“Oh… I see.”

A hand landed on her shoulder. A different one.

“Don’t let him scare you,” said a smooth, amused voice.

She turned and found herself face to face with a woman in a half-wrinkled lab coat, dark circles under her eyes and a cigarette between two fingers. “Shoko Ieiri,” she said. “Diagnostics and sedation protocols. You’ll be seeing a lot of me if you’re going near them.”

She shook her hand firmly, studying her expression. “You’re either brave, stupid, or just incredibly soft. Let’s find out which.”

“W-We’re not even sure what their diagnoses are exactly,” the girl said, laughing awkwardly. “Just rumors, right?”

Neither of them answered.

Nanami crossed his arms. “I argued against it. They didn’t care. You were chosen for a reason.”

Shoko exhaled a long stream of smoke, her gaze sharpening.

“They think maybe if it’s someone pretty. Someone gentle. Someone that doesn’t look like they belong here.”

She smiled grimly.

“They’ll talk to you.”

The girl looked between them. Their expressions made her stomach twist.

“…I can handle it,” she said softly. “I mean… I came here to help people. That’s what I’m going to do.”

No one spoke.

But Nanami sighed, quietly. Almost inaudible.

Shoko glanced at him.

“Poor thing’s got no clue what she’s walking into,” she murmured.

And she didn’t.

Not yet.

But she would.

Tomorrow, the door would open.

And the voices in the white rooms would finally find her.

_________

The next morning, she woke up early.

The sky hadn’t changed—it was still that unremarkable grey, neither dark nor bright, just blank. But she didn’t mind. She took her time getting ready. A cream-colored cardigan, soft knit. A pleated skirt with little flowers. Pink clips on either side of her head to keep her hair in place. A tiny gold cross around her neck, mostly hidden beneath her collar. Just a small comfort.

Today was her first real assignment. Her first session. Her first patient.

She packed her notepad, folder, and pens in her small tote bag and clipped her name tag to her chest. She even added a strawberry sticker to her clipboard.

Because… why not?

Even scary places could be a little softer.

⸻

Nanami met her just outside the dorm wing. He was exactly the same as always: beige coat, tie straight, jaw tense. But something about the way his eyes landed on her—on her bow, her pastel cardigan, her matching pen—made her think he was trying not to say something.

“Good morning!” she beamed.

He gave a slow nod. “Come with me. I’ll brief you on the way.”

She followed beside him, her steps quick to match his.

“Today you’ll begin your patient observations,” he said, voice clipped. “You’re starting with Gojou Satoru.”

She blinked. “Oh—alright. He’s the one in level five, right? I read the preliminary files last night, but—”

“Good. Then you understand the level of risk.”

She hesitated. “They said… he’s highly unstable. Aggressive. Psychosis, possibly schizophrenia with delusional episodes…”

“Those are just words for what no one fully understands,” Nanami said. “You read about the Shinjuku Incident?”

Her stomach fluttered. “…Yes.”

“Then you understand why he’s the only patient housed in full suppression protocol. Physical restraints. Isolation. Anti-reinforcement architecture. Guards stationed at all times. No physical contact.”

She nodded. “Understood.”

He stopped outside a heavy steel door at the end of a long, windowless corridor. Two guards in matte black armor flanked either side.

Nanami turned toward her. And for the first time… his voice softened.

“You stay calm. If anything feels wrong, anything at all, you leave. Don’t try to understand him. Don’t try to reason with him. Just do your job, and come back out. I’ll be waiting.”

She blinked up at him, surprised.

“I will,” she said, and smiled. “Thank you, Nanami-san.”

He didn’t smile back. But he looked at her for a moment longer than usual. Then nodded to the guards.

The door opened.

⸻

She stepped inside the chamber and immediately felt it—something wrong in the air. Like walking into a room that had been filled with smoke hours ago. Nothing visible, nothing tangible, just a presence in the walls. A hum under the skin.

He was seated in the center of the room.

His wrists, ankles, and neck were bound by a web of blackened steel. The cuffs looked more like cursed tools than restraints—etched in runes, fused into the floor. His blindfold was still in place, but his head tilted the moment she stepped in, like he could see her anyway.

He smiled.

The kind of smile that didn’t belong in a place like this. Wide. Bright. Full of light that didn’t reach his bindings.

“You came,” he said.

She froze mid-step.

He tilted his head the other way, a slight giggle in his throat. “I knew you would. I could feel you right outside my door. You smelled like vanilla shampoo and cheap strawberry ink.”

She looked down, instinctively clutching her clipboard. Her Hello Kitty pen glinted pink in her hand.

“Aww,” he said. “That’s cute. You brought that just for me, didn’t you?”

“I…” She cleared her throat and tried to steady herself. “My name is (Y/N). I’ll be your assigned intern for the next few weeks. I’m here to observe your behavioral patterns and—”

“I know who you are.”

Her heart fluttered. He hadn’t raised his voice. He didn’t look dangerous. He just… knew too much.

“(Y/N) (L/N), age twenty-three. Graduated two months ago. Internship transferred from Kyoto on emergency recommendation. You like lemon cake. You cried at the end of that movie, the one where the dog dies—what was it? Hachiko?”

Her fingers tightened around her clipboard.

“You should’ve been assigned to someone boring,” he said casually. “Someone who doesn’t even look at you. But instead…”

He smiled wider.

“You got me.”

She tried to keep her tone professional. “Your file says you’ve shown signs of hyperfixation. I’d like to begin our first session by asking a few baseline questions.”

“Sure.” He tilted his head again, grin still in place. “You can ask anything you want. I like your voice.”

She scribbled something down—his tone was playful but unsteady. The way he leaned forward in his restraints made the guards tense slightly, but she didn’t flinch.

“Why are you here, really?” he asked suddenly.

She blinked. “What do you mean?”

“You’re too soft for this place,” he murmured. “All sweetness and pastels. It’s adorable. Like sending a kitten into a tiger cage.”

She smiled gently, the way she had practiced. “I want to help people. I know some of the cases here are severe, but… that’s why I came. To make a difference.”

For a moment, something in his expression shifted.

“You really mean that.”

It wasn’t a question.

She nodded, pink pen tapping lightly against the edge of her clipboard.

“Would you say you experience emotional instability or violent impulses?” she asked, reading from the list.

He laughed. “Depends on who’s watching.”

She looked up, a little confused.

“I don’t want them in here,” he whispered. “The guards. They’re ruining the moment.”

She smiled again, softer this time. “I don’t think I can change that.”

His voice dropped. Darker. “You could, if you wanted to.”

There was a pause. The silence stretched. Something cold prickled against the back of her neck.

Then his head tilted again. His grin was back.

“You’re prettier up close,” he said warmly. “Your photos didn’t do you justice.”

Her pen slipped slightly. “Photos?”

“Oh, don’t worry.” He leaned forward just enough to pull the chains taut. They groaned. “They’re hidden. For me only.”

She took a careful breath, writing something down just to fill the space.

“Are you scared of me?” he asked.

She blinked. “No.”

“Liar.” He smiled like it was a compliment. “But that’s okay. You will be.”

The door hissed behind her.

Nanami stepped in, voice sharp. “Session’s over.”

Satoru didn’t flinch. He just turned his face slightly toward the sound, then looked back at her.

“You’ll be back,” he said with certainty. “You don’t belong to them. You’ll see that soon.”

She hesitated for just a second, then gave him a soft smile.

“Goodbye for now, Gojou-san.”

And then she waved—just a tiny wave of her fingers, like she would to a classmate at school.

His smile split wide, like sunlight through broken glass.

As the guards ushered her out, his voice followed—quiet, but clear.

“Next time, wear that blue skirt again. You looked so pretty in it.”

She stepped into the hall.

The door shut behind her with a deep, echoing clang.

Nanami’s jaw was tight. The guards looked unsettled.

But she just smiled, a little flustered, and glanced at her clipboard.

“I think it went okay,” she said brightly. “He was very… energetic.”

Nanami didn’t say a word as he walked her back.

But behind the steel door, Satoru sat very still. His chains groaned as he leaned his head back.

And smiled.

________

She thought she would feel more prepared this time.

The hall outside the East Containment wing looked the same—white, spotless, silent. Nanami’s posture was just as rigid beside her, clipboard in hand. But as she glanced up at him, she noticed the subtle difference.

He looked… tense. Not just alert, but concerned.

“Now you’ll meet Getou Suguru,” he said without preamble. “You’ve read the file.”

She nodded, holding her clipboard a little tighter. “Former cult leader. High intelligence. Mass casualty event. Manipulation through ideological influence and emotional targeting.”

Nanami gave a short nod.

“His ability to read others is unparalleled. Do not let him draw you in. Do not over-engage. Stick to your baseline questions and leave when I give the signal.”

She smiled a little, trying to keep the nerves down. “I understand. I’ll be careful.”

“I mean it,” Nanami said, looking at her fully now. “You’re not trained to resist his kind of persuasion. Don’t confuse politeness with safety.”

Her smile faltered. Just a little.

Still, she nodded again.

“I’ll be fine.”

The guards opened the door.

⸻

His room was similar to Satoru’s in structure—plain concrete walls, low lighting, not a trace of softness anywhere. But there were no chains.

Instead, a clear barrier of reinforced cursed glass split the room in half, and he sat behind it like a prince in a quiet chapel—long black hair tied neatly back, robes folded in precise layers, his expression unreadable.

He didn’t look up immediately. He was seated cross-legged on the floor, brush in hand, painting slow, deliberate strokes onto a fresh canvas.

She stepped in softly, the door closing behind her with a sealed click.

“Good morning,” she said gently, her tone still warm despite the chill. “My name is (Y/N). I’m the assigned intern working with you for the next few weeks.”

She smiled. A small, practiced thing that came naturally to her.

He didn’t look at her.

“I’ve been asked to monitor your behavior patterns and emotional responses during structured conversation sessions,” she continued, clipboard in hand. “My role is non-invasive. I’m only here to talk and observe.”

There was a pause.

Then his eyes lifted.

Dark. Sharp. Still.

He looked at her as if she were an old photograph brought to life. No surprise in his gaze. No curiosity. Just calm recognition.

“(Y/N),” he said, without inflection. “From Kyoto.”

Her breath caught. But she recovered quickly—she’d gotten used to strange familiarity after yesterday. Maybe the files were more widely circulated than she realized.

“You… have a strong memory,” she said, voice still sweet. “I guess everyone’s been reading about me, huh?”

“No,” he replied. “I just knew you would come.”

The words were soft. Smooth. Said like they were inevitable.

She blinked and moved to the small desk provided for interns on her side of the glass.

He watched her the whole time.

“You don’t belong in a place like this,” he said after a moment. “You’re too soft.”

Her cheeks warmed faintly, but she gave him a polite laugh.

“You’re not the first person to say that.”

“But I’ll be the last.”

She looked up, startled.

He didn’t explain.

Instead, he set the brush down, wiped his fingers with a white cloth, and finally leaned forward. Their eyes met through the glass. He didn’t smile—but something in his gaze curled around her, quiet and unrelenting.

“You smell like spring,” he said quietly.

She tilted her head. “Excuse me?”

“Like cherry blossom soap. I used to know someone who wore the same.” His gaze lingered on her hair clips. “You dress gently. Deliberately.”

She hesitated, then smiled again, as if to brush it off.

“I think it’s important to keep some color around here. It’s very… white.”

That made something in him twitch—a breath, a near-smile. Not mocking. Not kind. Just… something alive.

“I was told you paint,” she said, eyes flicking toward the small stack of canvases in the corner.

A change came over him. Subtle. But it was there.

He didn’t look. He didn’t move. But there was a stillness that wrapped around him now. A tension.

“It helps me remember,” he said.

“Remember what?”

“Things that belong to me.”

She blinked again, unsure how to respond.

“May I ask what you’re painting today?”

He turned the canvas slightly, so only a corner was visible—a pale blur of skin tone. A curve of a cheek. A delicate line of a smile.

“I’m still working on the eyes,” he murmured. “Yours are… complicated.”

She blinked. “I—I don’t think I understand.”

He didn’t clarify. But his gaze was locked on her now. Calm. Patient.

Like he could wait forever.

She wrote something down, her Hello Kitty pen tapping lightly at the edge of her clipboard. His eyes followed the pen.

“You really are exactly what I imagined,” he said.

“Imagination can be misleading,” she replied sweetly.

“Not mine.”

The door opened behind her. She turned instinctively—and saw Nanami’s silhouette in the doorway, watching.

Time was up.

She stood slowly, collecting her things. As she reached the door, she glanced over her shoulder.

“Thank you for your time, Getou-san,” she said politely, giving another small wave. “I’ll see you again soon.”

He didn’t move.

“You already do.”

⸻

Nanami said nothing as he walked her back to the dorm wing. But she noticed the way his jaw was tight, hands in his pockets.

“That one was… different,” she said after a moment.

Still no answer.

“I felt like he was trying to… see through me.”

“He was,” Nanami said flatly.

She looked at him. “Do you think I handled it okay?”

He slowed his pace just slightly. His eyes flicked toward her. Then forward again.

“You didn’t smile as much on your way out,” he muttered.

She gave a tiny laugh. “I guess I was concentrating.”

“Don’t let him in,” Nanami said. “Don’t try to understand him. You’re not ready.”

She didn’t argue. But she didn’t fully agree either.

She still believed she could help them.

Even if something in Suguru’s voice lingered like smoke in her lungs.

______

She didn’t expect him to be waiting for her.

But Satoru was already sitting up straight when she entered his room again—legs crossed, head tilted, chains tight against the floor. The blindfold was gone this time.

His eyes were ice-blue and glowing. Not metaphorically. Actually glowing. Pale and wrong. Like the light didn’t come from the room—but from inside him.

“You wore the cardigan again,” he grinned. “The white one with the little heart buttons. Are you trying to kill me?”

She blinked, quickly looking down at her notepad. “It’s just a cardigan.”

“Not to me.”

The guards barely moved in their corners, but she knew they were watching. Nanami stood just outside the window, arms crossed, expression unreadable.

She sat at the small metal desk, her clipboard already open. “Let’s begin today’s session. I’ll be asking a few questions for your file maintenance.”

“Ohh. So cold already? No hello for your favorite patient?”

She smiled gently, in that same practiced way. “Hello, Gojou-san. Are you ready to answer some questions?”

“Anything for you, sweetheart.”

“Please describe how you’ve been feeling this week. Any changes in mood or perception?”

“Well, I felt something… beautiful in the hallway earlier,” he said. “She had little hair clips and walked like a ballerina. You should’ve seen her.”

She gave him a look—caught between amusement and light disapproval.

“It was you, by the way,” he added, tapping a finger to his temple. “Didn’t want you to miss the metaphor.”

She jotted a few notes, trying not to smile too much.

“Have you experienced any auditory or visual hallucinations in the past seventy-two hours?”

“Only you. But you’re not a hallucination… yet.”

He leaned forward slightly, grin widening. “Although if you were in my head, I wouldn’t mind. You’d be the best thing in there.”

“I need a serious answer, please.”

He sighed dramatically. “No hallucinations. No visions. Just dreams.”

She paused. “Dreams of what?”

“Of you,” he said plainly. “Tied in a bow, standing in my doorway. Every time I wake up, I’m disappointed.”

There was a moment of silence.

She tried not to react.

Instead, she scribbled something—pen clicking softly against the clipboard.

“What’s your favorite color?” he asked suddenly.

She looked up. “That’s not a relevant question—”

“Come on. I answer your questions. It’s only fair. Let me guess…” He narrowed his eyes. “Peach? Lavender? Baby blue?”

She hesitated. Just a second too long.

“…Pink,” she mumbled, before remembering herself. “But I’m not allowed to share personal details. It’s part of the—”

“You just did.” He beamed. “You trust me already. That’s adorable.”

“I didn’t mean to—”

“Shhh. Don’t ruin it.”

⸻

Suguru never smiled.

Not in the way Satoru did.

When she entered his room, his eyes were already waiting. Still. Patient. Watching the way her fingers curled around her clipboard. The way her shoes tapped lightly across the floor. The way she smoothed her skirt before sitting.

He was like a man sitting at the edge of a pond, waiting for a koi fish to surface. Silent. Unmoving. Focused.

She cleared her throat.

“Good afternoon, Getou-san. I’ll be continuing the behavioral assessment questionnaire today.”

“Your voice is calmer than usual,” he said softly.

She blinked. “I… I didn’t notice.”

“Rough morning?”

She shook her head. “It’s not relevant. Let’s begin the session.”

“Do you sleep well in your dorm room?”

Her pen hovered over the paper.

“…I’m not supposed to answer personal—”

“Just asking. You seem tired. I heard the walls make noise at night.”

Her heart gave a soft thump. She had heard something. But no one else mentioned it. Not even Shoko, when she’d asked casually over lunch.

“Don’t worry,” Suguru added. “They stop when you’re being watched.”

She tried to redirect. “How have you been feeling this week?”

“Content.”

A beat.

“I saw you yesterday. Walking past the medical ward. I thought you looked very graceful. Like someone not meant to be here.”

She wrote that down—eyes flicking toward him only briefly.

“Do you remember what I painted last week?”

She looked over at the stack of canvases in the far corner. They were always turned inward, away from the glass.

“No. You didn’t show me.”

“Would you like to?”

“I… that’s not part of the procedure.”

“But you want to. Don’t you?”

She paused. Just for a moment. Then looked back down.

“Please answer the next question. Have you experienced any emotional spikes or dissociation in the last seventy-two hours?”

He was quiet. Then:

“You said your favorite color is pink.”

Her eyes snapped up.

“…I never told you that.”

“You did,” he said gently. “To him.”

The silence pressed in. Thicker now.

“…You’re not supposed to know what happens in other sessions.”

“And yet here we are.”

She stood up just a little too quickly. “That concludes today’s session.”

⸻

Nanami didn’t speak as they walked down the hall again. But she felt it.

The tension was different this time. Not like the first day, when it was nerves. Not like the second, when it was curiosity.

This time it felt like being watched. Even after the door was closed. Even after the guards nodded her through.

Something had changed.

Not outside the glass. Not in the room.

In her.

She waved at Shoko in diagnostics, still wearing her little smile, still holding her clipboard close.

But as she walked back to her dorm, the silence in the hallway felt heavier.

And she couldn’t help but feel like somewhere—two pairs of eyes were memorizing her every step.

___

She woke up with her breath caught in her throat.

The sheets were damp. Her cotton nightshirt clung to her skin. Her little plush bear was nearly crushed in her arms. She didn’t remember grabbing it—just that it was there, between her arms like a fragile shield.

The nightmare still clung to her like static.

It hadn’t been the first. But it was the most vivid.

She was in the facility—but the halls had no lights. All the doors were gone. She was barefoot, walking on tile that felt wet, though there was no sound. No echo. The walls pulsed like flesh. The air buzzed like insects behind her ears.

She kept hearing her name. Not screamed. Not whispered.

Just said. Over and over.

“(Y/N).”

“(Y/N)… you’re late.”

“(Y/N), we’re waiting…”

And then she had turned a corner and seen it.

A sketchbook—hundreds of pages, spilling open. All of them were her face. But wrong. Distorted. Smiling too wide. Eyes too big. Or crying. Or covered in something dark and red. And on every page, the words written beneath:

Mine.

Mine.

Mine.

Then hands—not touching her, but reaching.

A soft voice behind her ear, tender and delighted:

“I said you’d come to me.”

And then she’d woken up.

⸻

It took her nearly half an hour to calm down.

She curled up on the side of her narrow dorm bed, hugging the bear Shoko had gifted her during her first week: pink with a little bow. Her fingers curled into its fur like a child trying to ground herself. Her breathing was shallow. Slow. But eventually, the tremors faded.

She didn’t cry.

She didn’t scream.

She just… held on.

⸻

By lunchtime, she had composed herself.

The cafeteria was as sterile as the rest of the facility—white walls, metal chairs, employees spread in quiet clusters. Some nurses talked over trays of curry and rice, a few junior staff members scrolling through their phones.

Shoko was already seated at the corner table, picking at a sandwich and nursing a lukewarm coffee. Nanami sat beside her, as stiff as ever, rice untouched in front of him.

“Sorry I’m late,” she chirped, sliding into the empty seat between them. “Diagnostics took longer than expected.”

Shoko raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t sleep again, did you?”

“I’m fine,” she said quickly, giving a tiny smile. “Just a little tired. I’m used to it.”

Nanami stared at her plate. “You haven’t touched your food in three days.”

“I have!” she protested, opening her bento and poking at a few rice grains. “I’m just… not super hungry lately. That’s all.”

Shoko sighed through her nose and passed her a fruit cup. “Sugar. For your brain. You’re doing too much.”

“I’m okay,” she said again, more quietly. But she accepted the fruit cup anyway.

Nanami didn’t speak. But his jaw shifted slightly.

She glanced between the two of them and tried to steer the mood elsewhere.

“So…” she said, brightening her voice, “can I ask you something not work-related for once?”

Shoko leaned back, curious. “Since when do you break protocol?”

“Since I’m tired of hearing about my own sleep habits,” she grinned. “I was just wondering… what brought you two here? Like, to this facility? It’s not exactly close to anything.”

Shoko smiled slightly. “Got transferred. Long story. They needed someone who could handle higher-risk diagnostics. Plus, the pay’s decent and the cigarettes are tax-deductible.”

(Y/N) laughed gently. “And you, Nanami-san?”

He looked at her for a moment, then turned his gaze down.

“I trained under someone who was connected to the institute,” he said eventually. “Didn’t want the job. But someone had to take it.”

There was a pause.

Shoko gave him a sidelong glance.

“Still doesn’t like it,” she added dryly.

“I don’t like most things,” he muttered.

(Y/N) smiled again, softer this time. “Well, I’m glad you’re both here. You make this place feel a lot safer.”

They didn’t answer. But Nanami’s hand relaxed against the table slightly. And Shoko looked… amused.

After a few more bites, she tilted her head and looked toward the far window.

“I was just wondering something,” she said after a moment, voice light. “About containment, I mean.”

Shoko raised an eyebrow.

“Do any of the patients… interact? Like, between sessions? Or are they all completely isolated?”

There was a beat of silence.

Nanami’s eyes lifted from his tray, sharp.

“Why do you ask?”

She blinked innocently. “Oh—I just thought about it the other day. Some of them… say things that feel very informed. Like they’ve heard things they shouldn’t have.”

Shoko set her coffee down. “Level five inmates are isolated by default. Reinforced containment protocols, monitored 24/7. No shared interaction. Especially not between them.”

“Right. Of course.” She gave a tiny laugh. “Just curiosity. Probably just coincidences.”

But Nanami was still watching her.

Not questioning her. Not accusing.

Just watching.

As if he had wondered the same.

_____

had been nearly four weeks since her first day.

And she was starting to feel it.

The exhaustion had curled into her bones—quietly, like smoke—but it didn’t stop her. She still arrived early. Still smiled as she walked the sterile halls. Still wore her soft cardigans and skirt sets, her delicate perfume, her pink pen with the faded Hello Kitty cap.

But her steps were slower now. The shadows under her eyes a little deeper. Her wrists a little slimmer.

She didn’t notice it herself. Not really.

But Suguru did.

He was already seated when she entered.

Always in the same position—legs folded beneath him, dark robes like still water. His hair tied loosely at his neck today. The light from above cast long shadows across his collarbones. The canvas sat beside him, untouched.

He looked up the moment she stepped in. His gaze moved over her—calm, as always. But his fingers tapped once against his knee.

A tiny, silent reaction.

“You’re late,” he said gently.

“I’m two minutes early,” she said, glancing at her clipboard with a soft smile.

“You kept me waiting anyway.”

She sat down, smoothing her skirt under her legs, trying to ignore the slight tremor in her arms. She was always cold now. Even in layers.

He didn’t comment on it.

Instead, he just watched.

“I’ll begin with the baseline questions, if that’s alright,” she said, flipping the page. “This is for weekly emotional tracking.”

“Go on.”

“Have you experienced any intrusive thoughts, auditory hallucinations, or disassociative episodes in the past seventy-two hours?”

“Only when you leave.”

She blinked, smiled slightly, and wrote something down.

“Any emotional instability? Irritability, impulse behaviors?”

“Not when you’re here.”

She wrote slower this time.

“…Have you had recurring dreams or episodes of déjà vu?”

He paused for a beat.

“I keep dreaming of a hallway. White walls. No doors.”

His eyes didn’t leave her.

“Someone’s always walking down it. But I only ever see the back of her.”

She felt something twitch behind her ribs.

Still, she nodded. “Thank you.”

He tilted his head. “You’re shivering.”

“It’s a little cold in here,” she said lightly. “Nothing new.”

“You’re not sleeping well.”

She hesitated.

“And you’re not eating.”

Her stomach growled before she could deny it.

The sound was humiliating in the silence of the glass chamber.

She flushed and laughed softly, pressing her hand to her stomach.

“Oops. Guess you heard that, huh?”

His brows furrowed. The expression was subtle—but not like his usual calm. No serenity. Just… tension.

“Why?”

“I’m just not that hungry lately,” she said quickly. “Plus, the food here’s not exactly great—”

“That’s not a reason.”

She blinked at the firmness in his voice.

“I’m fine, really—”

“You’re not.”

She paused.

“…I said I’m fine.”

“You’re lying.”

Her throat tightened a little. She tried to hold her smile, but her hands fidgeted with her pen.

“I’ve just been busy, that’s all. I’m probably burning more calories than I—”

“Are you dieting?”

The question hit like a stone.

She blinked. “What?”

“You said that yesterday. When you skipped lunch.”

“Oh, that was just a joke,” she said, laughing. “I was teasing Shoko.”

His eyes darkened—just slightly. Not in rage. But in something.

“You don’t need to diet.”

She looked down.

He stood slowly, the soft rustle of his robes the only sound between them. He walked toward the glass, standing just close enough that his breath fogged the surface slightly.

“Your body is not something that needs to be changed,” he said quietly. “Not trimmed. Not shrunk. Not punished.”

Her breath caught.

The tone wasn’t flirtatious. It wasn’t even warm.

It was sacred.

Like a man talking to a statue he prayed to. A devotion threaded through every syllable.

She shifted uncomfortably, shrinking in on herself.

He saw it.

And just like that—his expression softened. The coldness vanished. His voice smoothed back into silk.

“Forgive me,” he said gently. “I didn’t mean to raise my voice.”

She nodded quickly, still not looking at him.

There was a pause.

Then:

“Will you eat dinner tonight?”

She glanced up. “I… I think so.”

“Will you sleep before midnight?”

“I’ll try…”

“No. Not try. I want your word.”

She blinked.

“Why?”

“Because I need you to,” he said simply. “And I will ask again tomorrow. And the day after. Until you learn to care for yourself properly.”

She couldn’t say anything to that.

The door hissed open behind her.

She stood slowly, still gripping her clipboard. Her hands shook slightly.

“Thank you for your time, Getou-san.”

“Rest, (Y/N),” he said.

His voice was so soft, so intimate—it nearly broke her.

As she stepped out, the door sealing behind her, she didn’t see him reach toward the wall behind the glass.

Didn’t see him trace her name—her full name—with the tip of his brush.

______

She tried to compose herself before stepping into the room.

Tried to smooth her skirt, fix her cardigan, reclip the hairpin that had slipped slightly out of place. She even smiled at one of the guards. He didn’t smile back.

Nanami was already in position near the reinforced observation wall, his expression hard. He glanced at her clipboard.

“You sure you’re steady enough for this?”

She nodded quickly.

“Just tired. I’m okay.”

He didn’t respond. But she could feel him watching her as the door unlocked with a low hiss.

Satoru was humming when she entered.

He was reclined in the center of the room, legs stretched out, chains slack but locked into the floor. His white hair looked messier than usual, and the blindfold was absent again, revealing his pale eyes—brilliant and unblinking.

“Strawberry Shortcake,” he sang. “Vanilla Cream. There she is, my sugar cube dream.”

She blinked. “…What?”

“You look like a walking pastry today,” he grinned. “All soft and pink and nervous. I’m obsessed with it.”

She laughed softly. “That’s a new one.”

“New day, new nickname,” he said proudly. “I’ve got a hundred of them for you. Let’s see… Peach Muffin. Cotton Candy. My little bunny on her way to a breakdown.”

He tilted his head. “That last one’s not so funny, huh?”

Her smile faltered a little, but she sat at her usual post, clipboard in hand.

“You’re in a mood today.”

“You’re not,” he said immediately.

She froze.

“You’re off, sweetheart.”

His tone was light, but his eyes didn’t move.

“Not in your usual fluffy way. Something’s pulling on you.”

“I’m just tired.”

“Nope.” He leaned forward. The chains tightened slightly. “Wrong answer.”

She exhaled slowly, keeping her pen still. “I’m here to check on you, not the other way around.”

“Yeah, but that’s stupid,” he said. “You’ve never been good at taking care of yourself. Not even when you were mine.”

She blinked. The words hit like cold water.

“…I don’t—what do you mean?”

“I mean,” he said, stretching like a cat, “you’ve always been like this. Little cracks showing, smile still glued on. It’s adorable, and pathetic, and I love it. But it still worries me.”

He smiled wide.

“You really don’t remember yet?”

“…Yet?”

“Anyway!” he chirped suddenly. “Let’s talk about something else.”

She stared at him, brows drawing tight—but he was already off, bouncing from topic to topic in his own rhythm.

“Did you eat today?”

“I—”

“Be honest.”

She paused.

“Not really. I’ve been busy, and I didn’t feel—”

“Wrong answer again.”

She looked up. His tone had changed.

He wasn’t smiling anymore.

“You have one job, and it’s to stay healthy. I hate when you lie to me, bunny.”

Her throat tightened. She shifted in her seat.

“I’m not lying. I just…”

“I can see your ribs under that stupid little sweater.”

She flinched slightly. He didn’t say it cruelly—he said it like a fact. Like he should be the one noticing.

“You’re not sleeping. You’re not eating. You’re a mess. And I don’t like seeing what I love falling apart like this.”

The silence rang loud between them.

“…You… you love me?”

He grinned again. “Don’t change the subject.”

She stared down at her clipboard, overwhelmed. Her fingers trembled faintly against her pen.

“Tell you what,” he said, tone suddenly sweet again. “If you promise to eat dinner tonight—and sleep, like a good girl—I’ll only ask you cute questions next session. No more scary stuff.”

She blinked, uncertain.

“Cross your heart,” he sang. “Swear it. One little pinkie promise, and I’ll behave.”

“…Okay,” she said, smiling nervously. “I promise.”

He clapped his hands, giddy. “Yay~! You’re so good when you listen.”

She felt a little lightheaded. Like the air was thinner in this room.

He tilted his head again.

“Still sushi, right?”

Her heart skipped.

“…What?”

“Your favorite,” he said simply. “Sushi. Tuna. And that stupid egg omelet one you always get, even though you say it tastes weird.”

She stared at him, stunned. “…How do you—?”

“Mmm.” He gave a dramatic shrug. “Maybe you told me. Maybe I just know. Maybe we used to share it, and you just forgot.”

Before she could answer, the door hissed open.

Nanami stood there with a scowl like stone.

“Bye, Bun-Bun,” Satoru called cheerfully. “Don’t starve yourself, okay? I’ll cry.”

She left quickly, the clipboard clutched to her chest.

She didn’t look back.

⸻

That night, she returned to her dorm.

The lights were dim. The air cold. She was still shaking slightly from something she couldn’t name. Her hands went to her cardigan buttons, needing to change, needing to breathe—

And then she saw it.

On her bed.

A pristine, white box.

Wrapped with pale pink ribbon.

A soft chill raced down her spine.

She stepped closer, carefully.

Her name was written on the little card in perfectly neat handwriting. No return address. No signature.

She opened the lid with trembling fingers.

Inside: sushi.

Neatly arranged.

Tuna. Salmon. Tamago.

A little cup of dipping sauce in the corner. Pickled ginger. Even a side of strawberry mochi. Her favorite.

And beneath it all, tucked gently under the wrapping paper:

A small pink napkin.

Folded into a heart.

With a single word written in the center.

Mine.

[lemonbarb]

Alpha! SatoSugu x Beta! Reader

Pt. 1

TW: fem reader, brief mentions of intercourse, y/n is lowkey a try hard, but it’s for the love of the game, there will be a pt. 2, omega slander, reader lowkey just needs therapy but that will come in the form of díck. anyway.

synopsis: the life of an unsuspecting beta never calls for too much action. you do your job, go home and repeat so that maybe one day you’ll actually be able to put your degree to use. it isn’t until you screw up that you realize your goal might be too far out of your reach.

___________

The sun trickles through your curtains, stretching over your sheets and up into your tired eyes. You’d been awake for a while now, but the warmth of your blankets envelope you so fondly that you can hardly bring yourself to part with them. It’s rare these days to have a moment alone with yourself, to find peace amidst your monotonous existence. To be, even if only for a second, just as you are.

Like all good things though, your monotony comes to an abrupt end. The grating beep of your alarm reminds you that peace never lasts long and that time is money and you’re wasting it. With a groan, you slam your fist against the clock harder than you should’ve, and the few beats of silence afterwards threaten to lure you back to sleep. At the last second though, you come to and without missing a beat, throw yourself into your very detailed, painstaking routine.

06:35

Technically, work didn’t begin until nine o’clock, but it was better to be prepared in your case. Unforeseen circumstances and whatnot. To save time, you set out your clothes the night prior. Freshly pressed with not a wrinkle in sight. It’s against company policy for dress and appearance to be anything other than the standard. Article 4 paragraph two of the company handbook. Luckily, you’ve gotten used to the stiffness of it all and as you set your makeup out you remind yourself that the road to the top isn’t an easy one.

unless you’re born into it like Geto and Gojo.

“What’s on my schedule for today?” You ask aloud, waiting for the robotic voice of your VA to answer. Per usual, it reads out a boring lull of tasks that you had to complete. None to do with what you’d gone to school for- but that was expected, you’re still fresh and giving betas leadership positions early on isn’t common.

Despite the set back, you’ve always been privy to the luxury of being born a beta. To be an omega was to be trapped and bred and useless. No freedom, no autonomy, no hopes or dreams. Of course, your mom seemed happy enough, but the look of longing that flashed across her face the day you left for college burns itself into your mind everytime you close your eyes. You were mean and spiteful then, shrugging her off in a show of strength as you loaded up your car, not wanting to seem incapable infront of your father. You let her weakness be the catalyst for your insatiable need to succeed because to be like her was to have no choice. To be like her was to be a failure.

Suddenly, the beads of cold water drilling against your skin pull you from your thoughts and back into the shower. Strawberry scented shampoo and sudsy bubbles slide down your skin, giving you a scent that isn’t really yours.

As you scrub yourself raw, your mind trails to your job, what you’d eat for dinner, and then to Geto Suguru, and Gojo Satoru- for whom Tokyo was a playground. They were the faces of one of the biggest engineering companies in Japan and boy had you been lucky to score a job right out of college. Having the opportunity to walk among some of the most intelligent people in the world was a privilege, one that could be snatched away at any minor infraction.

The rest of your routine goes by smoothly, you’d become so accustomed to it that you’re slipping your manicured feet into your heels and walking out of the door in no time. Pretty, polished and perfect. Just like you had to be.

Without a hitch you arrive, the door attendants greeting you with polite smiles and fleeting pleasantries. The interior was traditional, but just interesting enough to keep you entertained as you breeze through the lobby. You’d nearly been stunned the first time you came here, having only seen magnificence like this in magazines.

“Early, as always.” A friendly voice chirps from inside the elevator as the golden doors close behind you. Looking up, you catch the gaze of the intern who’d been shadowing in the finance department. He’s a tall, lanky, clumsy thing with unruly hair and a knack for breaking what doesn’t belong to him. The only reason you even knew his name was because of the amount of complaints being filed. “Oh?” You bite, “You’ve been watching me?” He flushes like a school boy, eyes looking at anything but you, “Not watching, well, yes watching, but not in a creepy way- more like in an astute observation way-“ The tilt of your head cuts him off, “It’s okay. You’re an intern, you’re supposed to watch people.”

The ding! of the elevator cuts off his chattering, and you quickly step out, “You’ll do fine. Try not to break anymore printers though. I’d hate to see you tossed out.” The words of encouragement fly over your shoulder haphazardly and you don’t care to catch whatever he sputters after you. You were like that once, and it’d be in his best interest to get a grip on himself. He’s sweet for an alpha, but that means nothing in this marble jungle.

The next few hours go by like clockwork, typing numbers, printing layouts, calling lenders, coffee breaks and maybe a bite or two of random snack you’d stuffed in your drawer. Before you knew it, the clock struck five, and because of your early arrival you’d gotten an edge over everyone else work wise. Just as you began to pack up however, an agitating voice meets your ears.

“Excuse me.” You pursed your lips, eyebrows furrowing together as you came face to face with a giant stack of files. Behind it, the team lead for your floor stood impatiently. “These didn’t get filled out correctly and we need them by tomorrow morning for the next budget meeting.” By we, he meant them, and by them, he meant your bosses.

You had half the mind to argue, but smartly decided against it. Offering a tight lipped smile instead. “Okay.” And with practiced restraint, you bit your tongue and grabbed the heavy stack, trying not to fall as you wobbled to your desk. Really, you wanted to chuck it at the back of his head, but what good would that do?

I’ll be lucky to leave by seven.

As people began to trickle out one by one, and the clock seemed to inch closer to midnight than five, your hope dwindled. By ten you were nearly done, only needing to finish up a few things and print out data sheets, but you were exhausted. Bones creaking as you stood with a yawn- your eyes burning from the harsh blue light of your computer screen. It was easy to get annoyed at the seemingly never ending pile of work, but as you stared into the sea of lights that was Tokyo, you found your gaze softening. It really was a privilege to be here.

Stalking towards the printer, you tiredly began feeding paper in, blinking slowly as the sheets fluttered into a neat pile. Well, until they didn’t. At the last minute, it decided to sputter and freeze up, shutting off completely after a few seconds. You huffed, angrily shaking the damned thing back and forth like a vending machine, cursing the intern you’d seen earlier that day. When that didn’t work, you turned away defeated, rolling your eyes as it groaned.

Groaned?

You flung your head towards the machine in confusion, freezing in place as you waited for the silence to break again, and it did, only this time it was louder. “What the hell?” You whispered harshly, suddenly aware of the dark shadows stretching across the walls.

Be logical.

Well, printers don’t moan, and unless someone scaled a twelve story building you seriously doubted there was an intruder. The only plausible conclusion you could come to sat within the dark confines of your bosses office.

Now that you thought about it, the quiet hush that usually swept over the floor when they departed never came…which meant they were still-

The sound of objects crashing to the floor sent you scrambling towards your desk, eyes wide as quarters as you hurriedly tried to gather your things. If you came in early, you could finish the rest, right? They would understand, right? It didn’t matter to you if they did or didn’t, the pit in your stomach was enough to send you hurling yourself towards the elevator, hand over your nose and mouth as a sickly sweet smell of caramel, sweat and arousal fills the air. Being a beta saved you from falling into random scent induced heats, but that didn’t stop the smell from being absolutely unbearable. How hadn’t you smelt them before?

Your fingers quickly pressed the open button, and your escape can’t come fast enough. It was clear that the two of them were closer than just regular colleagues, or even best friends. They were some ominous third thing that no one dared to bring up, not even your most gossip ridden coworkers or the press. Another clash of items being thrown to the floor echos just as the elevator door opens. A gasp of relief floods your lungs as you throw yourself inside and press whatever button your fingers land on first.

Your head pounds as the door shuts behind you with a soft thud and despite your successful escape, you fail to notice that you’d left your computer on, jacket haphazardly perched on your still spinning chair, coffee spilled on your keyboard, and your ID tag still hanging from its clip.

___

The next morning went the exact same as the day before, only difference being your clothes and the dark circles under your eyes. After your little altercation last night, you’d nearly run home and flung yourself into the shower. It seemed like no matter how hard you scrubbed, you couldn’t erase that god awful smell, in the absence of your own scent, it seemed to cling to your skin. It left you reeling, but you had to give at some point or risk, getting only a few precious hours of sleep.

You’d still failed to notice your missing items, and it didn’t occur to you until you’d gone to clock yourself into the nearly vacant building, ID tag nowhere to be found. You realized then that you must have left it at your desk, and a heavy weight settles in your stomach as you contemplate tucking your tail and going home. You really wanted to…but you couldn’t, not after the shit you went through to be here. With a huff, you waltzed inside, false bravado depleting as you reached the front desk.

“Oh, you’re very early, what can I help you with this morning , Miss (y/n)!” The omega assistant you’d come to know as Kelly grins up at you from her seat, pretty teeth and fruity scent on display in an attempt to charm you. Sickening. “Hi. I misplaced my ID tag. I was hoping you could manually clock me in?” Just like that her smile drops- eyes suddenly not meeting yours as she types away on her keyboard. The reaction she gave only made you want to sink further into yourself. She probably knew you were as good as gone, and was signing you in so that you could do the walk of shame and gather your things. You hoped that when you dragged yourself back to your parents’ house you’d have a small shred of dignity left. Hoped that your mother would cradle you in her arms and let you apologize for how harsh you’d been.

Seconds of typing turned turned to minutes, and before you knew it, the silence became utterly unbearable, “Nice weather we’re having?” You quipped in a half assed attempt at making small talk, she she lets out a shaky laugh, and instead slides a temporary key card across the desk. “Miss…It’s raining.” Your face drops as you slowly look over your shoulder. She was right, it was pouring.

“Sorry. I’m out of it.” You throw her a smile that resembles more of a grimace and defeatedly grab the tag. Now you were fired, and incompetent. Before you could sulk away completely however, she called after you, “Oh, and Mr. Geto would like to you to meet with him at your soonest convenience.” Dying in this spot would have been more merciful than the tongue lashing you were sure to receive, but you nodded anyway.

This time the elevator was empty, and the ride to the twelfth floor seemed to come far too quick. Per usual, the floor was barren this early in the morning and your shoes were the only noise aside from the ticking clock on the wall. The stormy weather shrouded everything in grey, and there wasn’t a light in sight- save for the soft glow emitting from Geto’s office.

Your heart pounded as you glanced over at your desk, everything sat there, just as you’d left it. Well, except for your ID tag. With a sigh, you kissed your job goodbye and stalked towards his door. You didn’t even get the chance to knock or shrug off your jacket before he called you in, voice light and airy despite the darkness seeping from every crack in the room. Hesitantly, you open the door, eyes downcast. You’d never been in trouble like this, you always managed to stay just out of sight, preform so perfectly that you’d never so much as even seen a write up.

Until now, that is.

Everything was still for a moment as you waited for the yelling to begin, but it never comes. Instead, a dark shadow slowly comes to loom over you, and a scent you recognize becomes very hard to ignore. “I’m assuming this belongs to you?” Two polished shoes enter your line of sight, and as you crane your neck upwards, your gaze falls onto your ID tag, then to Mr. Geto’s face.

He stares down at you with dark eyes, silky hair falling perfectly around him like a curtain of ink. You blink, fists clenched behind you. “Yes sir. It belongs to me.” You’re fighting the urge to cower, but you manage to swallow your innate fear and look him in the eyes with your chin raised; back straight. Sure, you’d dealt with your father, an alpha, your entire life…but even he didn’t make you sweat like this.

Geto hums under his breath and steps towards his chair in a few elegant strides. His presence is deafening, and you realize why no omegas are allowed to work on this floor. They’d crumble. His back remains turned to you for a moment, and you allow yourself just a moment to breathe- to take him in. His body ripples beneath his button down, muscles flexing with every movement he makes. He’s like a predator bound to pounce, and it makes you sick.

“Sit.”

He gestures towards the seat across from him and without thinking twice, you plop down, grateful to give your quaking knees a rest. The sound of his chair groaning cuts through the air and you tense. “At first glance, I’d never expect that you’d be the one to leave such a mess.” He begins, your cheeks burn in embarrassment and you fight the urge to sneer, “If it weren’t for this, I wouldn’t even have known you existed.” He held up the ID tag and your photo grins back at you tauntingly. The you in that photo had never made a mistake, was always polished, always precise. A stark contrast to whoever you were now.

And she loathed you for it.

He waits for you to speak, but nothing comes. What could you even counter with? “Oh sorry sir, it’s just that I heard you having sex and I got scared, that’s why my things are strewn all over.” You stare back at him, sweat beading at your brow. “Do you have anything to say for yourself?” Again, silence. He didn’t seem pleased by this, and with a sigh he delicately placed your key card down.

“Seems you’re more insolent than I thought.” He begins, with a practiced smile. “Since you have nothing to say, I’ll make this brief-“ In a rush, you cut him off, lips moving before your brain can register what you’re saying. “I didn’t mean to, sir! I swear, I had an emergency and…I had to rush home.” You covered your mouth at once, not only had you spoken out of turn, but you’d also lied. It’s as if the entire room shifted, and somehow, it became even harder not to get up and run.

“I’m sorry, I-“ He held his hand up, silencing you immediately. “Well, emergencies are no joke...” He glances down at the tag, “-Y/N.” You didn’t like the way your name sounded rolling off of his tongue, but Geto’s polite grin only seemed to widen as you sputtered, “Y-you’re right sir.” You blanch, “Which… is why I left so abruptly. I promise I didn’t mean to leave my area in such disarray, it won’t happen again.” If groveling is what you had to do to keep this job, so be it.

After a long while of pinning you beneath his gaze, he finally looked away, hand cupping his chin in mock thought. “Sorry to hear about your emergency,” He shrugs, “But a violation, no matter how small, is still a violation.” You nod quickly and he frowns.

“Use your words. You’re not an omega.”

At this point, the disgust on your face is palpable. “Yes sir, I’m aware.” He hums again, pleased with your response as he rounds his desk and places a large hand on your shoulder. “Then you know that a punishment is in order, correct?” You shrink down, the weight of his presence engulfing you entirely, “…Yes sir.” He clicks his tongue, but before he can start, the door slams against the wall, and you don’t have to look behind you to know who it is. You’d know that scent anywhere.

“Suguru~” Geto’s polite mask dissolves and in its place a frown forms. “Oh, did I interrupt?” Gojo asks mockingly, glasses sliding to the bridge of his nose as he considers you with a look you can’t place. His gaze was almost more suffocating than Geto’s and just as you thought you’d burst into flames, he looks away, bored.

“I was actually just leaving-“ You tried to stand up, but the iron grip on your shoulder tightens. “Tsk, tsk. I’m not done with you yet.” Geto chides, using the same tone an owner uses to discipline a disobedient pet. “Let me guess.” Gojo gestures outside, “That pigsty of a cubicle Is yours?” Your lip quivers and with a mean scoff, he falls into his counterparts seat. You could practically feel the annoyance radiating off of Geto, but he quickly gains composure.

“Pigsty?!” You go to argue, but the heavy weight of Geto’s hand makes you think twice and you bite your tongue until a metallic taste reminds you to speak. “…yes, it’s mine.” You simper and Gojo snickers, “Seems like you ran outta here pretty startled.” His eyes pin you in place, “Somethin’ scare you? Or are you always this messy?” Before you find the courage to leap across the table and start a fight you can’t win, Geto speaks.

“I was just thinking of a punishment when you walked in.” He begins, and your heart sinks, “Dealing out a punishment, hm? It’d be easy to fire you…” He tilts his head, tone mocking as his body leans closer to your shaking form, “But that’s no fun, now is it?”

__________________________

[yandere-daydreams]

tw - implied non/con, prolonged captivity, obsessive behavior, slight infantalization, and wildly unhealthy relationships.

once again thinking about the pure, unadulterated misery of being kidnapped by satoru and his unwilling housewife, suguru.

satoru's not a complicated man. if something works, he sticks to it. so when he decides you're far too fragile to be left all alone in the big, scary world, he locks you up in one of his rustic little hide-aways, where the windows are barred and the doors are locked and there's no one around to hear you scream. he treats your breakdowns like tantrums, insists that this is for the best, that you have no reason to hate someone who clearly loves you so much. it's intolerable. it's unlivable. even then, you might've found a way to grit your teeth and bear it, had it not been for suguru.

you're separated, at first. satoru keeps you restrained to the master bedroom while you're "settling in", and the walls are too thick to make sense of the dull, distant muttering you can sometimes make out from other parts of the mansion. occasionally, you'll catch a shadow moving past your door, hear satoru start to call you by another name, but they're only hints, and you're not really in a place to worry about anyone else. most of your energy is devoted to scrounging for bobby pins and trying to claw satoru's eyes out - the standard affair for newly abducted captives. eventually, though, your motivation starts to wane, your bouts of misbehavior becoming fewer and farther between until you've gone days, weeks without an incident. eventually, satoru is going to come to you with a smile, and tell you that you're ready.

eventually, you're going to meet suguru.

satoru tries to make a night out of it. the dining room table is filled to bursting with your favorite desserts, and satoru leads you out by the shoulders, grinning like madman while you tentatively imagine a few minutes outside, a new console, some meager creature comfort your prolonged captivity has denied you. when you see your surprise, though, you can only regret ever getting your hopes up. a man sits at the head of the table, visibly bored and handcuffed to his seat. black, neatly-combed hair hangs lifelessly over his face, and there are dark circles under his eyes - like he hasn't slept in years. his gaze is unblinking and hateful. he looks at you like roadkill, left in the street to fester.

satoru introduces him as suguru and explains that they've been married for ten years - got hitched straight out of high school. suguru, tone flat and vaguely amused, tells you that he's a genocidal maniac and if he ever gets out of here, the first thing he's going to do is kill you and every other filthy, degenerate non-sorcerer he can find. satoru laughs and kisses his cheek. you excuse yourself to the nearest bathroom and vomit.

you and suguru see more of each other, once you're allowed to wander freely. whatever violent urges he might have are kept at bay by the talismans scattered around the mansion, the spiraling rows of inked kanji wrapped around his neck, his wrists. he reads, sometimes. once in a blue moon, you'll find him cooking, albeit never when satoru is home. mostly, he stares at you. you try not to wonder what he might be thinking.

you try to avoid him, but all of your days end the same way - stripped bare and teary-eyed, tangled in a sleeping satoru's arms as suguru leans against the headboard, looming above you. you try to ignore him, to fall asleep, to play dead, but that dead gaze stays fixed on the rise and fall of your chest, on every microscopic change in your terrified expression. finally, you hear him shift, feel his fingers brush against the curve of your spine, then the nape of your neck. this is it. he's going to choke you to death, or smother you, or do some other terrible thing that satoru will inevitably forgive him for. he's going to kill you.

but, his hand never wraps around your throat. instead, he runs his fingers through your hair, blunt nails running over your scalp. petting you. soothing you.

he doesn't love you. you doubt he even likes you, honestly. but that's the thing about being at someone else's mercy for so long.

at some point, you're just happy not to be at the bottom of the food chain, anymore.

[lemonbarb]

Silver Spoon ( Yan! Professor Levi x fem! reader )

TW: nsfw, noncon, sub reader, light stalking, collaring, no real plot, fingering, implied kidnapping, reader falls unconscious, implied pet play, not proof read fr whoops

Synopsis: A silver spoon holds no value if it's all you've ever eaten with-much like how college means nothing to a spoiled brat whos' rich parents are willing to give them anything. When your professor finds out about what your family did to get you into his prestigious academy, he blackmails you into obedience, and in the midst, discovers that his sick desire for you runs much deeper.

___

Professor! Ackerman had singled you out before you even make it through orientation, his steely eyes glued to every movement you make. It was odd how quickly the innate desire to own you arose, but it wasn’t unwelcome. In fact, for him, it was invigorating, exciting.

It doesn’t take long for professor! Ackerman to grow impatient either- you’d been the only thing on his mind since you first stepped into his line of sight. Classes weren’t scheduled to start for another few weeks, but for him the time couldn’t pass quick enough. It doesn’t help that his position at this prestigious university gives him the authority to snoop through student records, allows him to have all of your information saved to a folder on his desktop…

Professor! Ackerman who’s disgustingly fierce with his grading. Whose pass rate is abysmal and not because he’s a bad teacher, but because no one can meet his standards. Truly, he could fail every student he has and never be let go. One, because of his close ties with the dean, Erwin Smith, and two, because he’s revered within his field. Everyone wants a chance to learn from him, so each semester thousands of kids fight to have their portfolio on his desk. Hardly any make it in, which makes it all the more desirable.

Professor! Ackerman who clocks your arrogance and immediately wants to put you in your place- Who doesn’t need a testimonial to make sure your name is on his class roster. Who makes sure you’re sitting in the front row because it’s hard to keep an eye on long term investments without direct supervision. Yes…maybe you didn’t even particularly need his class, but it would look so good on your transcripts that you’d be stupid to deny it.

Professor! Ackerman who grits his teeth in agitation when you answer his questions like you’d rather be anywhere else. Who fights the urge to bend you over his desk and fuck the attitude out of you when you roll your eyes during his lectures. You’re intelligent, yes. You pass with flying colors, yes. You make him want to bury his cock in your pretty little cunt, yes. but you’re also extremely fucking irritating, though one might equate that feeling to his lack of control over you.

At first, Levi keeps his staring to a minimum. Believe it or not, he still has a job to do and as much as he wants to, he can’t spend all day focusing on the way you put your chapstick on. It was little things like that though that keep him yearning for you. The way your eyes light up when you get an answer right, the way you smile down at your paper when you get a perfect score. It was like watching a puppy get a treat…you’re a simple creature- the object of all his desires.

At first, he truly had half the mind to fail you, upset with himself for abandoning his own moral compass to keep you under his thumb...he gave you no leeway, but regardless of how tough he graded your work, he could never find any flaws. It’s maddening; you’re maddening, but the thrill that inks its way up his spine as he stalks your social media pushes whatever doubts he has away. It’s sickening, and oh so delicious when his hand drifts into his pants at night- the jacket you’d left behind pressed against his nose as he empties his balls to the thought of you.

Professor! Ackerman who is called to Erwin’s office, only to find that you’ve sent up a request to change classes. A knowing smirk plays on the blonds lips, and he silently makes it apparent that your pleas have been denied due to…lack of reasoning. Levi is livid then and for no real reason at all, he feels betrayed. You walk into class that following week with an attitude, but it only gets worse once you make it to your desk. “What the…” there sits your graded essay with a big fat sixty slapped on front. You nearly double over and at once you’re stomping towards him for an explanation. he fights the urge to smirk. “You didn’t follow the rubric.” Is all he says. sure enough you check again…and just like he said, you missed an entire section that you could have sworn wasn’t there before

Professor! Levi who has to remain seated after your little tantrum because you’ve given him a raging hard on. Who daydreams about grabbing you by your pretty little throat and making you eat your nasty words. Who knows you’re much too young for him, but seethes at the thought of you dating someone your age, or really, anyone all.

Professor! Levi who watches you constantly, who makes you stay after class almost everyday so that he can tutor you on your ‘weak’ points. You find it odd, but since your grades seem to be slipping you take the opportunity without hesitation. He couldn’t be more ecstatic. This allows him to get closer and closer to you, and it’s nearly impossible to ignore him when he’s perched behind your body with both arms caging you in on either side.

“Incorrect.” He hums, warm breath fanning against your cheek. “Seems like you’re going to need some more practice.” Your fists clench, and you don’t know what you’re going to say until you say it. This is the fifteenth problem you’ve gotten “wrong” and the way he’s mounted behind you makes your blood so hot that you can barely see straight.

“You have to be doing this on purpose, I don’t know what your vendetta is against me but I’ve fucking had it. You’re such a freak!” Seething, you attempt to scoot your chair back so that you can leave, but you don’t even get the chance to stand before he’s pushing you forward so hard that your ribs cut into the table. You can’t move an inch. He chuckles halfheartedly then- a deep, scary sound that has the hairs on the back of your neck standing at attention.

“You think I’m not aware?” His quips, amused as his lips brush against your ear. “Aware of what?” You hiss accusingly, trying to sound tough, but ultimately failing as you struggle to breathe. He clicks his tongue, “You can play coy all you want. But we both know that you can’t afford to waste such a…generously given opportunity.” You pause, stomach twisting as you comprehend exactly what he means. “I..” for once you can’t find the words, and Levi revels in the fear that he invokes within you.

“Who told you?” Your voice is small- accusing-nervous. “At this point I think that’s the least of your worries.” His thumb traces your jaw and you have to stop your hands from shaking, “I’ve kept your secret. Given you an opportunity thousands would die to have. Played your stupid little game…and this is how you repay me?” All at once the pain in your ribs is gone, and you find yourself being hoisted onto the table, vision dark around the edges as you feel his solid body take reprieve between your thighs. “What are you doing!?” You nearly scream, fists trying and failing to make contact with his body.

Professor! Ackerman who takes no heed to your attempt at violence and snags your wrists so tightly that your hands buzz from the lack of circulation. His eyes are trained solely on the pretty lace that peaks beneath your skirt as you writhe. Did you wear these just for him? What a sweet girl.

Professor! Ackerman who laughs at your threats, quickly shutting you up by pointing out how no one will ever believe you…and he’s right. It was a double edged sword no matter which way you pointed it. Your parents paid for you to be here- you didn’t get some scholarship like everybody else. You’re a fraud.

Professor! Ackerman who shushes you, cooing and leaning in to uncharacteristically kiss your salty tears away. Rough palms hold your face steady, leaving your shaky hands to rest limply against his chest. His gentle kisses turn to licks…and his licks turn to bites. “If you want to pass, and keep your parents good reputation…” He begins, cock throbbing painfully as your skirt rides up to your waist, “I suggest you get on your knees and fix this.” He glowers down at you, steel eyes unrelenting as you fight the urge to vomit.

Professor! Ackerman who watches you wince when his cock hits your face with a loud smack. “You look so pretty like this…” He mutters to himself, fingers tracing your quivering lips in awe, “Open.” You hesitate for only a moment, breath shallow as you try not to cry. For him, that’s one second too long, and you hear the slap before you feel it, cheek throbbing as he digs his fingers into your jaw and wrenches your mouth open wide. You don’t fight back much after that because the lack of air you’re getting makes black dots cloud your vision.

You’re drooling everywhere now, the sound of gagging echoes throughout the empty lecture hall, and Levi can’t help but gaze down at with a look that can only be akin to adoration. “Fuck.” He pants, sweat beading on his brow, “Needed you so bad…” you’re hardly listening to him, but he doesn’t seem to mind, and finally, after what felt like years, his hips begin to stutter and he pulls out. You inhale deeply then, choking as precious air finally fills your lungs. From above you he lazily jerks his cock, face red as he regards how pathetic cute you look.

“Strip.”

Your head whips in his direction, but his stare says that he isn’t in the mood for your antics anymore. You pray that someone will walk through the door and save you, but the halls are empty, and your ability to escape is zero to none. “Look at me while you do it.” He demands and your stomach drops. He’s still fisting his heavy cock, and when your eyes find his you nervously begin with your sweater, then your skirt, your blouse and so on until you’re down to nothing but your underwear. Levi takes note of the fully exposed frilly attire, and silently promises to buy you more. since the set you have on now is about to get ripped to shreds.

You try to avoid the way his cock throbs angrily between his thighs, more so the fact that it’s dripping with precum because of you. “Lay down, pretty.” His tone is softer now, but you obey without a second thought. The cool floor feels good against your sweaty skin, and you try to focus on that instead of how toned his body is above you, or the way his iron colored eyes regard you like you’re the air he breathes.

Not so arrogant now, hm?” Levi coos, hands spreading your thighs apart effortlessly. His lips connect with the soft skin of your neck, and your stomach churns in horror as he rips your bra right in two. There’s an attempt to cover your chest, but he grabs your wrists and pins them above your head with a loud thump. You wince when you hear the clink of his belt, and without any regard to how your wrists creak under his grip, he bounds you.

“Move, and you’ll regret it.” It wasn’t a threat, it was a promise, and you took heed to his warning without much convincing at all- having no other choice but to bite your lip and cry when his tongue flicks over your pert nipples, claiming them as his own.

Professor! Levi who has no trouble finding your gspot once your panties are ripped off. Long fingers petting the inside of your walls in ways you never knew possible. It is almost embarrassing how wet you get, squelching noises echoing in your ears, back arching, eyes watering. You clench, close to cumming, but he pulls away with a sharp jerk before the white hot sensation washes over you. You whine, pussy clamping around nothing. “Disobedient behavior doesn’t permit an award.” He pants while eyeing your swollen clit, thumb rubbing sweet circles on your sensitive bud as he aligns his cock with your sopping hole. “No-“ you whine pathetically, heavy tears streaming down your cheeks when he slips his hand over your mouth.

Professor! Levi who slams into you in one swift motion, whose desk practically breaks under the weight of his thrusts. You’d had sex before, but never like this, and immediately it became too much. “Such a shame.” He growls into your ear with a shaky breath, “lookin’ like mommy and daddy’s money is goin to waste.” You whine at his statement, but you can hardly keep your eyes open long enough to shoot him a nasty look.

Professor! Levi who rips orgasm after orgasm out of you, his cock steadily shooting sticky white ropes into your swollen cunt as you grow more and more exhausted. You stopped counting a long time ago, hell, stopped feeling while ago. “Mmph…gonna’ ruin this pussy.” He growls, animalistic in tone and unlike any voice you’ve heard before, “Only for me. Only mine- all mine.” He was talking to himself like a madman now, but you’d mentally checked out, and before you knew it, you were in the backseat of his Lexus, eyes heavy as you slump over.

His car.

His house.

His shower.

His bed.

You catch glimpses of your surroundings- glimpses of him, his steely eyes burning into you before you lose consciousness again. Nothing he does or says seems to make sense… until you feel the heavy weight of a collar around your neck and a kiss on your cheek. “My pretty girl.” You hear him purr as he maneuvers your limp body.. once he’s done, you’re curled into his arms like a small kitten. Right where you belong.

[lemonbarb]

Priceless ( yan! roommate satoru x reader ) 🪬

TW: minors dni, dark content, sub reader, brief mentions of choking, noncon, implied kidnapping, brief mention of murder, mentions of female anatomy, creampie, satoru being mean and obnoxious per usual.

synopsis: when naivety meets obsession, you find yourself in the jaws of your overbearing roommate. The rent is cheap, but your freedom is priceless.

🪥

Roommate! Satoru who’s been plotting on you for months. Who ditches his luxurious high rise for a classy little apartment close to your new job. Who makes sure that his online ad for a roommate is perfect; too good for you to pass up. Moving to Tokyo brings promising prospects for a cute, fresh, college graduate like yourself, but finding an apartment close to work proves to be nearly impossible until Satoru replies to your inquiry about the spare bedroom he’s ‘renting’ out.

Roommate! Satoru’s apartment is spacious, well decorated and surprisingly within your budget. “Not to be rude,” You start, awkwardly, “-but I’m surprised you’re renting this space out for so cheap. Is there a specific reason for that, or?” You muse, only half serious. Even if the place was haunted or infested with rats. You didn’t have the room to be picky.

Satoru clicks his tongue before quipping, “…gets pretty lonely out here in the city.” Then he grins, fists clenched deep within his pockets, “Trust me…I’ve got eyes everywhere, sweet thing. If safety is what you’re worried about, I’ll install new locks to ease your mind.” You hum. It was cheap, he was cool, maybe a little weird, but ultimately you could deal with it. “So…when can I move in?” You ask after a while of shadowing him around the pristine setup. Satoru has to bite his cheek to stop himself from grinning as he stares down at you from behind black shades. ‘you’re too cute.’ The words fizzle on his tongue but not loud enough for you to hear, and suddenly he throws a heavy arm over your shoulders.

Is he always this touchy?

“The sooner you move in, the better.”

___

Living with Satoru is easy, and despite your initial reservations, he’s not that weird. Yes, he’d occasionally leave his stuff out, or walk around in nothing but a towel—but having him in the apartment made you feel safe. especially when your things begin to go missing. It starts small, with items like your brush or your favorite chapstick; stuff you could blame yourself for easily misplacing on a routine basis.

Though, the unusual disappearance of your used panties, family photos and laptop? Well, that’s bit harder to explain, isn’t it?

Roommate! Satoru is soooo kind though! Helping you look for your things and ruffling your hair when you come to him pleading to make sure the front doors’ locked extra tight. “Wanna sleep in my bed? I don’t bite, promise.” He’d jest, but you’d laugh with warm cheeks and gently shoulder past him. “You’re funny. I’ll see you in the morning, let me know if you see my toothbrush laying around…I swear, this is like my second one this month.” And just like that, you’d slink back into your room without ever suspecting that the man across the hall was the culprit…

Roommate! Satoru who regularly stirs controlled substances into your drinks, cooing softly when you slump over on the couch with a soft snore. The expression you make when he slips his hands into your shorts is so precious. especially when your lips fall open, whimpers getting louder until finally your cunt spasms around his fingers. You never wake up, only fall deeper into whatever drug induced slumber he’s inflicted upon you- and when he finishes on your face, It’s warm as it drips down to your lips. You always wake up the next day unsuspecting, and curious as to why you can’t get rid of the salty taste on your tongue.

Roommate! Satoru, a total creep who covers his mouth and nose with your used underwear while he jacks off to nudes that you definitely deleted wayyy before you knew him- who leaves you with hardly any panties to wear and coyly takes you to the mall to get more. “This is a pretty shade,” He says while holding up a tiny light pink pair of lace, and again, you shut him down. “Maybe we can find some in your size?” Your smile is innocent, and you completely miss the way his eyes darken at your teasing.

Roommate! Satoru who takes off of work when you’re sick, who coddles you and orders your favorite foods, even though you never specifically told him what they were. You try to ask him to give you space so that he doesn’t also get sick, but he doesn’t care, preferring to stay right beside you as you sniffle, cough and rely on him for everything. It happens much too often, and part of you almost suspects that whatever virus you keep catching is inside of the apartment…

Roommate! Satoru who tries and fails to fuck the thought of you out of his head, you’re driving him absolutely mad. Though, without much remorse, he continues to cum in random women with your name softly falling from his lips like a prayer. Safe to say that he has many one night stands, and you constantly find yourself banging on the wall telling him to quiet down.

He rarely listens. Hoping you’ll get angry enough to walk in on him and do something about it.

Roommate! Satoru who never specified if he was comfortable with you bringing people home. I mean, he didn’t much care for your opinion when he was practically fucking the soul out of some rando he’d met at the bar, so what would it matter if you had a little fun for once? Besides, you guys were friends now. He’d understand.

Roommate! Satoru who watches you slink through the door in that slutty dress with a man- you’re tipsy and covered in hickies, hair wild, eyes glassy. he practically pounces on you then, and you swear you’ve never seen anyone so rabid. Your date, who’s just as drunk as you, stumbles backwards in horror, but Satoru pays little mind. “How dare you.” He snarls in your ear, hand on the back of your neck, shoving your face into the couch cushions as he spanks your ass hard enough to leave a bruise. Your breath catches in your throat, unable to breathe as he shoves you down further. “After everything I’ve done for you, this is how you choose to repay me? By sluttin’ yourself out?” You’re confused, and the lack of oxygen isn’t helping you decipher whatever the fuck he could mean.

Finally, he lets you up and with a gasp you whip your head towards his direction in anger that quickly morphs into shock. In your brief flash of drunk consciousness, you gather that your date has vanished into the night…and the faint specks of blood on satoru’s face tells you that he had something to do with it. “G..Get off of me!” You slur and despite your resistance, he manages to rip your dress off completely. You’re inebriated enough now to lose almost all of your gross motor functions, and he revels in the way your body sags under him.

Before you can pull away from his bruising grip, he’s got you pinned, his body keeping you still as he props himself between your legs. “I didn’t want it to b-be like this, ungh, y’know.” He moans into your mouth, fingers dancing up your thigh while his other hand rests heavily against your throat, grip so tight that you can barely breathe. Tears run down your cheeks, but he’s too caught up in grinding into your clothed cunt to notice. “I should’ve just showed you who you belonged to in the very beginning...”

Roommate! Satoru who rips your panties down your legs and stretches you open, practically drooling as you clench and gush around his thick fingers. He’s been inside you enough to know exactly what your pussy responds to, and as he coaxes an orgasm out of you, you can’t help but sob in horror. “Sweet girl,” He coos, “You look so pretty when you cum for me.” Suddenly, the heavy weight of his body leaves you, and he instead lowers himself to your cunt, staring up at you from between your legs like he’s just struck gold.

You shake your head, the room spinning as you slowly come down from your high. A quick slap to your thigh grounds you, and you whine as Satoru slowly begins to grind his fingers into your g-spot again. “You hear how wet you are, baby?” He chuckles at the squelching noises, grinning as he watches your body wither under his touch- just like he’s subconsciously taught it to.

Roommate! Satoru who fucks you so hard you’re seeing stars, eyes rolling into the back of your skull as he painfully drags another orgasm out of you. He’s too much to handle, and your pussy desperately tries to accommodate to his thrusts. “This is mine.” while one hand pinches your clit, the other grips your wrists and rests them on your stomach, creating leverage as he ruts into you. “You’re mine.” He growls, “Say it.” You whine and nod your head-but a slap that sends your world spinning has you stuttering out the words quickly.

“I-I’m yours.” Your lip wobbles as you cry, his eyes are so dark now that you can practically see your reflection in them. “Again.” And it continues on like this until you’re nearly screaming that your pussy belongs to him, that everything you are belongs to him. You pass out soon after he cums, the hot gooey liquid seeping out of your abused hole and onto satin sheets. Satoru admires you for awhile before cleaning you up. Naturally, he puts you in a clean t-shirt of his, but decides to slip your panties back on with his seed still dripping out of you as a reminder.

You awaken that morning, groggy and sore all over. Last night was a blur, but as you look around the unfamiliar room, it doesn’t take long for the memories to come rushing back. You blanch. Your date is probably dead, your clothes are nowhere to be found, and as you look between your sticky thighs in horror, the bedroom door slides open. Your roommate leans against the threshold with a grin thats unnaturally wide.

“Morning princess. Missing this?” In his hand is one of your old, missing toothbrushes.

[lemonbarb]

No Fun (Alpha! SatoSugu x Beta! Reader)

TW: fem reader, brief mentions of intercourse, y/n is lowkey a try hard, but it’s for the love of the game, there will be a pt. 2, omega slander, reader lowkey just needs therapy but that will come in the form of díck. anyway.

synopsis: the life of an unsuspecting beta never calls for too much action. you do your job, go home and repeat so that maybe one day you’ll actually be able to put your degree to use. it isn’t until you screw up that you realize your goal might be too far out of your reach.

___________

The sun trickles through your curtains, stretching over your sheets and up into your tired eyes. You’d been awake for a while now, but the warmth of your blankets envelope you so fondly that you can hardly bring yourself to part with them. It’s rare these days to have a moment alone with yourself, to find peace amidst your monotonous existence. To be, even if only for a second, just as you are.

Like all good things though, your monotony comes to an abrupt end. The grating beep of your alarm reminds you that peace never lasts long and that time is money and you’re wasting it. With a groan, you slam your fist against the clock harder than you should’ve, and the few beats of silence afterwards threaten to lure you back to sleep. At the last second though, you come to and without missing a beat, throw yourself into your very detailed, painstaking routine.

06:35

Technically, work didn’t begin until nine o’clock, but it was better to be prepared in your case. Unforeseen circumstances and whatnot. To save time, you set out your clothes the night prior. Freshly pressed with not a wrinkle in sight. It’s against company policy for dress and appearance to be anything other than the standard. Article 4 paragraph two of the company handbook. Luckily, you’ve gotten used to the stiffness of it all and as you set your makeup out you remind yourself that the road to the top isn’t an easy one.

unless you’re born into it like Geto and Gojo.

“What’s on my schedule for today?” You ask aloud, waiting for the robotic voice of your VA to answer. Per usual, it reads out a boring lull of tasks that you had to complete. None to do with what you’d gone to school for- but that was expected, you’re still fresh and giving betas leadership positions early on isn’t common.

Despite the set back, you’ve always been privy to the luxury of being born a beta. To be an omega was to be trapped and bred and useless. No freedom, no autonomy, no hopes or dreams. Of course, your mom seemed happy enough, but the look of longing that flashed across her face the day you left for college burns itself into your mind everytime you close your eyes. You were mean and spiteful then, shrugging her off in a show of strength as you loaded up your car, not wanting to seem incapable infront of your father. You let her weakness be the catalyst for your insatiable need to succeed because to be like her was to have no choice. To be like her was to be a failure.

Suddenly, the beads of cold water drilling against your skin pull you from your thoughts and back into the shower. Strawberry scented shampoo and sudsy bubbles slide down your skin, giving you a scent that isn’t really yours.

As you scrub yourself raw, your mind trails to your job, what you’d eat for dinner, and then to Geto Suguru, and Gojo Satoru- for whom Tokyo was a playground. They were the faces of one of the biggest engineering companies in Japan and boy had you been lucky to score a job right out of college. Having the opportunity to walk among some of the most intelligent people in the world was a privilege, one that could be snatched away at any minor infraction.

The rest of your routine goes by smoothly, you’d become so accustomed to it that you’re slipping your manicured feet into your heels and walking out of the door in no time. Pretty, polished and perfect. Just like you had to be.

Without a hitch you arrive, the door attendants greeting you with polite smiles and fleeting pleasantries. The interior was traditional, but just interesting enough to keep you entertained as you breeze through the lobby. You’d nearly been stunned the first time you came here, having only seen magnificence like this in magazines.

“Early, as always.” A friendly voice chirps from inside the elevator as the golden doors close behind you. Looking up, you catch the gaze of the intern who’d been shadowing in the finance department. He’s a tall, lanky, clumsy thing with unruly hair and a knack for breaking what doesn’t belong to him. The only reason you even knew his name was because of the amount of complaints being filed. “Oh?” You bite, “You’ve been watching me?” He flushes like a school boy, eyes looking at anything but you, “Not watching, well, yes watching, but not in a creepy way- more like in an astute observation way-“ The tilt of your head cuts him off, “It’s okay. You’re an intern, you’re supposed to watch people.”

The ding! of the elevator cuts off his chattering, and you quickly step out, “You’ll do fine. Try not to break anymore printers though. I’d hate to see you tossed out.” The words of encouragement fly over your shoulder haphazardly and you don’t care to catch whatever he sputters after you. You were like that once, and it’d be in his best interest to get a grip on himself. He’s sweet for an alpha, but that means nothing in this marble jungle.

The next few hours go by like clockwork, typing numbers, printing layouts, calling lenders, coffee breaks and maybe a bite or two of random snack you’d stuffed in your drawer. Before you knew it, the clock struck five, and because of your early arrival you’d gotten an edge over everyone else work wise. Just as you began to pack up however, an agitating voice meets your ears.

“Excuse me.” You pursed your lips, eyebrows furrowing together as you came face to face with a giant stack of files. Behind it, the team lead for your floor stood impatiently. “These didn’t get filled out correctly and we need them by tomorrow morning for the next budget meeting.” By we, he meant them, and by them, he meant your bosses.

You had half the mind to argue, but smartly decided against it. Offering a tight lipped smile instead. “Okay.” And with practiced restraint, you bit your tongue and grabbed the heavy stack, trying not to fall as you wobbled to your desk. Really, you wanted to chuck it at the back of his head, but what good would that do?

I’ll be lucky to leave by seven.

As people began to trickle out one by one, and the clock seemed to inch closer to midnight than five, your hope dwindled. By ten you were nearly done, only needing to finish up a few things and print out data sheets, but you were exhausted. Bones creaking as you stood with a yawn- your eyes burning from the harsh blue light of your computer screen. It was easy to get annoyed at the seemingly never ending pile of work, but as you stared into the sea of lights that was Tokyo, you found your gaze softening. It really was a privilege to be here.

Stalking towards the printer, you tiredly began feeding paper in, blinking slowly as the sheets fluttered into a neat pile. Well, until they didn’t. At the last minute, it decided to sputter and freeze up, shutting off completely after a few seconds. You huffed, angrily shaking the damned thing back and forth like a vending machine, cursing the intern you’d seen earlier that day. When that didn’t work, you turned away defeated, rolling your eyes as it groaned.

Groaned?

You flung your head towards the machine in confusion, freezing in place as you waited for the silence to break again, and it did, only this time it was louder. “What the hell?” You whispered harshly, suddenly aware of the dark shadows stretching across the walls.

Be logical.

Well, printers don’t moan, and unless someone scaled a twelve story building you seriously doubted there was an intruder. The only plausible conclusion you could come to sat within the dark confines of your bosses office.

Now that you thought about it, the quiet hush that usually swept over the floor when they departed never came…which meant they were still-

The sound of objects crashing to the floor sent you scrambling towards your desk, eyes wide as quarters as you hurriedly tried to gather your things. If you came in early, you could finish the rest, right? They would understand, right? It didn’t matter to you if they did or didn’t, the pit in your stomach was enough to send you hurling yourself towards the elevator, hand over your nose and mouth as a sickly sweet smell of caramel, sweat and arousal fills the air. Being a beta saved you from falling into random scent induced heats, but that didn’t stop the smell from being absolutely unbearable. How hadn’t you smelt them before?

Your fingers quickly pressed the open button, and your escape can’t come fast enough. It was clear that the two of them were closer than just regular colleagues, or even best friends. They were some ominous third thing that no one dared to bring up, not even your most gossip ridden coworkers or the press. Another clash of items being thrown to the floor echos just as the elevator door opens. A gasp of relief floods your lungs as you throw yourself inside and press whatever button your fingers land on first.

Your head pounds as the door shuts behind you with a soft thud and despite your successful escape, you fail to notice that you’d left your computer on, jacket haphazardly perched on your still spinning chair, coffee spilled on your keyboard, and your ID tag still hanging from its clip.

___

The next morning went the exact same as the day before, only difference being your clothes and the dark circles under your eyes. After your little altercation last night, you’d nearly run home and flung yourself into the shower. It seemed like no matter how hard you scrubbed, you couldn’t erase that god awful smell, in the absence of your own scent, it seemed to cling to your skin. It left you reeling, but you had to give at some point or risk, getting only a few precious hours of sleep.

You’d still failed to notice your missing items, and it didn’t occur to you until you’d gone to clock yourself into the nearly vacant building, ID tag nowhere to be found. You realized then that you must have left it at your desk, and a heavy weight settles in your stomach as you contemplate tucking your tail and going home. You really wanted to…but you couldn’t, not after the shit you went through to be here. With a huff, you waltzed inside, false bravado depleting as you reached the front desk.

“Oh, you’re very early, what can I help you with this morning , Miss (y/n)!” The omega assistant you’d come to know as Kelly grins up at you from her seat, pretty teeth and fruity scent on display in an attempt to charm you. Sickening. “Hi. I misplaced my ID tag. I was hoping you could manually clock me in?” Just like that her smile drops- eyes suddenly not meeting yours as she types away on her keyboard. The reaction she gave only made you want to sink further into yourself. She probably knew you were as good as gone, and was signing you in so that you could do the walk of shame and gather your things. You hoped that when you dragged yourself back to your parents’ house you’d have a small shred of dignity left. Hoped that your mother would cradle you in her arms and let you apologize for how harsh you’d been.

Seconds of typing turned turned to minutes, and before you knew it, the silence became utterly unbearable, “Nice weather we’re having?” You quipped in a half assed attempt at making small talk, she she lets out a shaky laugh, and instead slides a temporary key card across the desk. “Miss…It’s raining.” Your face drops as you slowly look over your shoulder. She was right, it was pouring.

“Sorry. I’m out of it.” You throw her a smile that resembles more of a grimace and defeatedly grab the tag. Now you were fired, and incompetent. Before you could sulk away completely however, she called after you, “Oh, and Mr. Geto would like to you to meet with him at your soonest convenience.” Dying in this spot would have been more merciful than the tongue lashing you were sure to receive, but you nodded anyway.

This time the elevator was empty, and the ride to the twelfth floor seemed to come far too quick. Per usual, the floor was barren this early in the morning and your shoes were the only noise aside from the ticking clock on the wall. The stormy weather shrouded everything in grey, and there wasn’t a light in sight- save for the soft glow emitting from Geto’s office.

Your heart pounded as you glanced over at your desk, everything sat there, just as you’d left it. Well, except for your ID tag. With a sigh, you kissed your job goodbye and stalked towards his door. You didn’t even get the chance to knock or shrug off your jacket before he called you in, voice light and airy despite the darkness seeping from every crack in the room. Hesitantly, you open the door, eyes downcast. You’d never been in trouble like this, you always managed to stay just out of sight, preform so perfectly that you’d never so much as even seen a write up.

Until now, that is.

Everything was still for a moment as you waited for the yelling to begin, but it never comes. Instead, a dark shadow slowly comes to loom over you, and a scent you recognize becomes very hard to ignore. “I’m assuming this belongs to you?” Two polished shoes enter your line of sight, and as you crane your neck upwards, your gaze falls onto your ID tag, then to Mr. Geto’s face.

He stares down at you with dark eyes, silky hair falling perfectly around him like a curtain of ink. You blink, fists clenched behind you. “Yes sir. It belongs to me.” You’re fighting the urge to cower, but you manage to swallow your innate fear and look him in the eyes with your chin raised; back straight. Sure, you’d dealt with your father, an alpha, your entire life…but even he didn’t make you sweat like this.

Geto hums under his breath and steps towards his chair in a few elegant strides. His presence is deafening, and you realize why no omegas are allowed to work on this floor. They’d crumble. His back remains turned to you for a moment, and you allow yourself just a moment to breathe- to take him in. His body ripples beneath his button down, muscles flexing with every movement he makes. He’s like a predator bound to pounce, and it makes you sick.

“Sit.”

He gestures towards the seat across from him and without thinking twice, you plop down, grateful to give your quaking knees a rest. The sound of his chair groaning cuts through the air and you tense. “At first glance, I’d never expect that you’d be the one to leave such a mess.” He begins, your cheeks burn in embarrassment and you fight the urge to sneer, “If it weren’t for this, I wouldn’t even have known you existed.” He held up the ID tag and your photo grins back at you tauntingly. The you in that photo had never made a mistake, was always polished, always precise. A stark contrast to whoever you were now.

And she loathed you for it.

He waits for you to speak, but nothing comes. What could you even counter with? “Oh sorry sir, it’s just that I heard you having sex and I got scared, that’s why my things are strewn all over.” You stare back at him, sweat beading at your brow. “Do you have anything to say for yourself?” Again, silence. He didn’t seem pleased by this, and with a sigh he delicately placed your key card down.

“Seems you’re more insolent than I thought.” He begins, with a practiced smile. “Since you have nothing to say, I’ll make this brief-“ In a rush, you cut him off, lips moving before your brain can register what you’re saying. “I didn’t mean to, sir! I swear, I had an emergency and…I had to rush home.” You covered your mouth at once, not only had you spoken out of turn, but you’d also lied. It’s as if the entire room shifted, and somehow, it became even harder not to get up and run.

“I’m sorry, I-“ He held his hand up, silencing you immediately. “Well, emergencies are no joke...” He glances down at the tag, “-Y/N.” You didn’t like the way your name sounded rolling off of his tongue, but Geto’s polite grin only seemed to widen as you sputtered, “Y-you’re right sir.” You blanch, “Which… is why I left so abruptly. I promise I didn’t mean to leave my area in such disarray, it won’t happen again.” If groveling is what you had to do to keep this job, so be it.

After a long while of pinning you beneath his gaze, he finally looked away, hand cupping his chin in mock thought. “Sorry to hear about your emergency,” He shrugs, “But a violation, no matter how small, is still a violation.” You nod quickly and he frowns.

“Use your words. You’re not an omega.”

At this point, the disgust on your face is palpable. “Yes sir, I’m aware.” He hums again, pleased with your response as he rounds his desk and places a large hand on your shoulder. “Then you know that a punishment is in order, correct?” You shrink down, the weight of his presence engulfing you entirely, “…Yes sir.” He clicks his tongue, but before he can start, the door slams against the wall, and you don’t have to look behind you to know who it is. You’d know that scent anywhere.

“Suguru~” Geto’s polite mask dissolves and in its place a frown forms. “Oh, did I interrupt?” Gojo asks mockingly, glasses sliding to the bridge of his nose as he considers you with a look you can’t place. His gaze was almost more suffocating than Geto’s and just as you thought you’d burst into flames, he looks away, bored.

“I was actually just leaving-“ You tried to stand up, but the iron grip on your shoulder tightens. “Tsk, tsk. I’m not done with you yet.” Geto chides, using the same tone an owner uses to discipline a disobedient pet. “Let me guess.” Gojo gestures outside, “That pigsty of a cubicle Is yours?” Your lip quivers and with a mean scoff, he falls into his counterparts seat. You could practically feel the annoyance radiating off of Geto, but he quickly gains composure.

“Pigsty?!” You go to argue, but the heavy weight of Geto’s hand makes you think twice and you bite your tongue until a metallic taste reminds you to speak. “…yes, it’s mine.” You simper and Gojo snickers, “Seems like you ran outta here pretty startled.” His eyes pin you in place, “Somethin’ scare you? Or are you always this messy?” Before you find the courage to leap across the table and start a fight you can’t win, Geto speaks.

“I was just thinking of a punishment when you walked in.” He begins, and your heart sinks, “Dealing out a punishment, hm? It’d be easy to fire you…” He tilts his head, tone mocking as his body leans closer to your shaking form, “But that’s no fun, now is it?”

__________________________