I have had this account for three years i believe. It was my batman persona although I only came out to save the city twice a month. All in all, its been a fun journey I started in my second year of university and now that I finished that damn hellhole (I loved it) a few months ago and life's starting to get a little more serious, I think its time to seal this little pandora's box.
I loved writing and the community here, all the support I've gotten its been amazing! But all great things must come to an end so I say Farewell mon amie. Maybe in another life I would have done this professional but something about this being my own NGO kept me going
Don't worry, if you've made a request it will be uploaded by the end of the year. (Yes that includes Kure Obession)
I may still upload but maybe three times a year or so when an idea pops into my mind
ใ โฆ TESTING HIS SELF-CONTROL THROUGH THE WEEK โฆ ใ
โ-โ CHOOSE YOUR WORKAHOLIC! โ Nanami Kento, Higuruma Hiromi, Sir Crocodile, Captain Smoker, Loid Forger, Hanayama Karou, Levi Ackerman, Shota Aizawa + your own fav! reblog tagging your favs!
ย ย ย โฏโฒ This was made to fit a broad pool of personalities, something might be a bit out of character for some, but perfectly fits another, so just eat what youโre fed :)
cw: CEO x FAKE!BIMBO!ASSISTANT, OFFICE AU. DETAILED SMUT. masturbation, use of toys, jealousy, crude language, he's a perv, panty stealing, voyeurism, drunken sex
โMonday morning, and youโve already started testing him.
He should dress code you. He really should, but then again, is it really hurting anyone?
So far, there have been no complaints, other than the old woman in accounts who also complained about her coffee being bitter. The staff love it, and the horny male clients love gawking at the skin you reveal like hungry animals.
But he's no better than them. His pupils fixed and dilated on the moves you make back and forth his office. That jelly ass teasing him and sounding his name with every clap and recoil.
It was hypnotic, he's caught himself staring at it way too many times for decency. The way it sways, how you keep having to pull your skirt down each time you get up, and whenever you sit, he gets a sweet peek at those white lacy panties.
He should do something, say something, heโs your boss, and you were a walking red buzzer of violation, literally, the sheath of red didnโt even go past your mid thigh
โ
โSir, you're supposed to sign all these,โ You huff, out of breath, catching your footing after he constantly made you walk in and out of his office to โdeliver papersโ.
โ
It was just an excuse for you to turn around and bewitch him with the recoiling cushions he dreams he would have his face buried in one day while he eats your pussy.
โ
You bent to place the papers on his desk. The opening view of your cleavage directed heat and blood below his, now way too tight, belt. He felt dirty; he might as well be a ragged man on the road whistling and cat-calling you as you passed by.
โ
But instead, he kept the corporate facade of a clean man, composed and busy with his papers, using the glint of his anti-blue light glasses to hide his very obviously gawking eyes and using errands to watch you walk back and forth in his office.
โ
He's supposed to dress code you, he really should. But in the end, all he could do was give you his coat to put on because โit was cold.โ
โ
Tuesday (masturbation & overtime)
โYou get home late, not because of overtime or traffic. No, because you wanted to stay and help FAV! out. If helping meant you got to see him after 10pm, you'd happily work unpaid overtime again and again.
โ
After 10pm is when you see a workaholic in their natural habitat. Tie undone, slick back hair messed up, eyebrows knitted together, and sometimes, if youโre lucky, a few buttons undone.
โ
You felt like a Victorian man to ankles anytime you saw a peak of his chest hairs.
โ
And how his tone and voice would change. While people talk about the early morning voice, you fawn over his late-night authoritative voice.
โ
โShitโ just sit down. You distract me enough.โ His voice rang inside your head. He whispered the last part, but you heard it. ย You imagined his long fingers wrapped around his pen. You wondered if they ever needed warmth from your lips or your cunt.
โ
โIโll call you when I need something.โ His voice echoed in your mind. Your body jolted as the vibrator on your lips reminded you of the vibrations from his voice in your ear. When he would whisper commands to you during meetings.
โ
The electric signals spread through your legs, reminding you of whenever he would man spread on his chair. How you would stand in between it waiting for him to finish the call, as his hungry eyes ate you up. Oh, what to do to be on your knees in the middle of that manspread, having his eyes glaring down in approval telling you to keep going while he tried to keep quiet on the phone.
โ
You felt your climax approaching. If he were here, would he tell you to hold it? Would he tell you patience would get you the best rewards? Or will he switch up on his words like he always does, excusing himself with โPatience only gets you so far,โ and beg you to come on his face?
โ
You imagined him on the bed, his fingers the ones thrusting into you. Those same eyes eyeing hungrily at your cunt. It made you orgasm, coating your toy, fingers, and sheets with your arousal.
โ
Even then, you still imagined, would he ask for another round, or lead you to the shower to clean you up?
โ
Wednesday (voyuerism & masturbation)
FAV! stared at your naked body as you changed into your beachwear. It was a mistake; he took a wrong turn and ended up in a changing room. He felt disgusting, like a pervy high school boy looking at girls changing through a peephole.
โ
But it didnโt stop him. In fact, he thanked the corporate gods for allowing a work trip to the beach so suddenly that you didnโt have time to reject it like you always reject beach or swimming trips.
โ
He quickly ran away from the door, almost tripping in the sand and sending particles flying just to reach the bar to sell the lie of always being there. He was definitely not peeking and was not hard after seeing your bare tits for the first time.
โ
You rushed out, folding your arms and sitting close to him, hiding yourself behind the counter. A tiny tug on his heart as he realised you werenโt comfortable at all.
โ
To your surprise, he ordered you to change back and that you two would be going back to the office. Although he loved seeing you in shorts that barely covered your ass or a bikini that was hanging on by a strand of thread. He also prioritised how you felt over how his dick felt.
โ
You didnโt ask questions. You quickly went to change, practically skipping to the changing room, although you couldn't find your panties. How odd.
โ
His mind wandered after work, in the comfort of his penthouse, why exactly you had felt how you did when youโd wear revealing shit to work all the time. As he grabbed the base of his wobbling and firmly erect cock, dragging your dirty panties from earlier up his shaft, lubricating it with his pre-cum before repeatedly stoking himself until his head jerked back in pleasure, he thought of all the dress code violations you wore last week.
โ
Skirts never past mid thigh, that heโd have you running up and down the workplace in, shirts doing nothing to hide the outline of your shape, sometimes with a few buttons undone, letting your breast overflow whenever you bent. The number of times heโd have to excuse himself to get rid of his hard.
โ
As his orgasm came and calmed, ropes of his fluid all over your panties and his work desk, he wondered back to why you felt uncomfortable, diving into a deep analysis of your behavior.
โ
You were oblivious to workmates flirting, shrugging it as โbeing niceโ , hardly competent without direct instruction, which worked for him; he needed an assistant to do what he said, not what they wanted, and you were a pretty face, making you an asset in human relations.
โ
Were you truly oblivious to your dressing unless you were directly stripped bare with mere strings covering you? Were you truly that dumb?
โ
Thursday (tension & jealousy)
Not even the music in the room could drown out the heavy tension in the air. Everyone could feel it, apparently, except you and that young boy youโre sitting with, laughing at his unamusing and lame attempts at jokes.
โ
God, if he could grab you by your hair, hold you up, and tell you how much all this grinds on him. If he could bend you over his knee, you wouldnโt be able to sit for a week. He could write this up for workplace indecency. Touching and laughing obnoxiously at bad jokes count, right?
โ
The amount of fury his restraint could contain and hold back was about to tip over the edge and break all layers of control. He averted his eyes; heโd remain composed and collected. Not acting like a mannerless boy when he hasnโt even told you how he felt; something he believes heโd never do.
โ
He was doing so well at calming himself down, till his eyes met your direction again. The creep now had his hand on your thigh, slowly climbing up. His jokes got more inappropriate and frankly, could finally be put under workplace indecency.
โ
He waited, he waited till he had you alone. His knuckles were white on the steering wheel. He kept adjusting his position, and his eyes spoke warnings. Warnings you ignored and still asked a stupid question.
โ
โUhm, sir, are you okay?โ You barely even whispered. Did he look okay? No, he did not look okay. His head snapped toward you. It made you regret that question and look down at your thighs.
โ
โAm I okay? I take you out of the office, and that's when you flirt with competitors?โ His voice was a growl, infused with an intense frustration that made your stomach twist in fear of him being disappointed in you
โ
You took your time to steady your voice and say the right thing. Only for โI wasnโt flirting!โ to blurt out, immediately realizing how defensive you sounded. โWe were just talking. I know what I was doing!โ
โ
โTalking?โ he scoffed. He made a turn so sudden it almost seemed intentional to make you break your composure. But you couldnโt lie, he looked so desirable in this state. You look at the time on the clock; the red digits showed 11:23pm. It was past 10.
โ
His tie was pretty much undone, hair messed up and two buttons undone. And that authoritative voice was being used on you, but not the way you liked it.
โ
โThatโs not what it looked like from where I was sitting. It looked like you were enjoying every second of it.โ And with that, you felt a surge of frustration fill you. Where exactly was he playing at? ย โJust because Iโm polite doesnโt mean Iโm flirting! Maybe if you werenโt so busy sulking, you would have noticed I was uncomfortable! I was trying to be nice, but he wouldnโt back off!โ
โ
He shook his head, disbelief etched on his features. โYou were practically inviting him to keep going! You dress like that andโโ The moment he said what he said, he realised what he said. Regret washed over him, but it was too late. As he pulled into the red light, you grabbed your bag. When the car halted to a complete stop, you opened the door and walked away without a word.
โ
He didnโt try to call for you, he realised what heโs done, but, of course, he didnโt just let you go. He secretly followed you, ensuring your uber took you home safely before driving away.
โ
Friday (confessions & champagne)
Tension from last night was still palpable between the two of you; you were across the room speaking with some work friends, downing every glass of champagne that was unfortunate to come your way, trying to ignore the man this whole party was for.
โ
You were doing well, ignoring your boss the whole day. You were cold, professional, even more in a dark blue pantsuit instead of your favorite skirt, until the corporate gods threw a surprise celebration your way.
โ
Heโs been trying to apologize the whole day, he saw the sudden modesty or attempt for itโyour shirt was still a size too small, and the rectangle opening still showed way too much cleavage. He was finally going to make the attempt after the working day; by offering you a ride or simply calling out your name before you left. That was until they threw a surprise celebration his way.
โ
Now you're both on opposite sides of the room, drowning yourselves in champagne, wondering whether to go home without saying anything or finally addressing the slick glances you keep sending each other throughout the night.
โ
The exception was that one had a higher alcohol tolerance, and the other had been drunk 5 glasses ago. He picked up on it, though you managed to hide it well. Anyone truly looking would have seen your slightly unfocused pupils looking at a point past everything, the slight stumble and slow blink when someone was talking to you.
โ
He wanted to leave you alone, figured if you hadnโt spoken to him there, you probably didnโt want to speak to him at all. But when the co-worker whoโd been flirting with you your whole employment at this company, and was also written up for indecency, approached you offering to drive you home, his hand on your lower back, not waiting for an answer, he couldnโt help but interfere.
โ
Practically glaring at the man, he swatted his hand away and replaced it with his, declaring he was responsible for his own assistant. He hadnโt meant to be that aggressive; the words came out more sharply than he had intended, and he hadnโt meant to practically drag you into the backseat of his Escalade.
โ
His rational mind told him to just call an Uber for you, but before he brought out his phone, he had already placed you on the leather and had turned on the heating. Before he knew it, he was on Maps finding the nearest route to your apartment and following the road to your apartment.
โ
He expected to hear protests, curses, and insults thrown his way as he had you in his arms, not slurred detail as to why you hated each and every head of a different department, most of which he agreed with.
โ
When you got to him, he expected a jibe or scowl, but when you quieted before a gruff โheโs hot.โ His eyes widened. He was already, for your sake, going to forget this conversation ever happened, but that one reluctant compliment unstabled him; he drew his tie lower. He tried to get you to say more but you refused to elaborate.
โ
He dropped it, trying to shrug it off, but he knew heโd spend all night thinking of your drunken confession, maybe with his hand around his cock, mind running back to the current pout on your face. He got you to your apartment alright, but as he turned to leave, your drunk ass suddenly couldnโt remember the code.
โ
He was suspicious of you, convinced you were acting dumb. How was it up until the point that he verbally confirmed he was going to leave after you got inside your apartment, you knew your codeโyou told him so in the car. And the minute he turned, you stopped mid-way and punched in random numbers, each less convincing than the last; hell, you were punching in 1-2-3-4-5-6
โ
He didnโt want to leave a vulnerable, drunk-off-her-ass girl alone like this, and it was hard to when you clung to his arm, begging him not to. ย He had no other choice but to take you home with him, wondering how he was going to explain it to you and himself in the morning. Suddenly, your slouch and stubble disappeared, and you walked gleefully into the front seat of the Cadillac.
โ
Reaching his penthouse, he was quick to lead you towards a guest room down the hall. Not bothering to turn on the lights. He held onto the side of your waist, guiding you through furniture and walls in the dark until he stopped, and turned on the switch, letting warm light illuminate the room.
โ
His guest room was as lavish as the ones of 5-star hotel ads youโd see when you search up youtube tutorials on how to edit a spreadsheet behind your desk. When the lights turned on, you were blinded by a sea of marble, grey wooden panels, and stone of a luxurious bathroom, or in your eyes, practically a spa.
โ
The warmth of his arm left your side, following him as he moved to a cabinet to the side, leaving you in the obvious path of the large open shower. โStrip and take a shower. Iโd leave some clothes out for you, just go directly to bed. Weโll talk in the morning.โ
โ
โMm, okay.โ You chose only to listen to his first word. You were fumbling with the buttons of your shirt as the rest of his words drowned in your mind. When he turned, towel in hand. You stood in your bra, ready to remove that to.
โ
He froze. Perverted eyes locked onto the bra two sizes way too fucking small for you, with the way your breasts overflowed out. Donโt even dare ask him the color of nothing, he wasnโt looking at the lace of it, but the possibility of what may be under. He blinked; finally, muttering a low โJesus. I meant after I left.โ
โ
You continued undressing, he didnโt stop you, he couldnโt, he was entranced by the show you were putting on for him. You removed your pants. โAre you gonna help me shower?โ You pout, noticing his staring, but unbothered to stop.
โ
He rubbed his eyes, but still managed to peek as you wobbled, undoing your heel buckle. He thought of it, but stopped himself, thinking out loud, โYouโre drunk. You donโt know what youโre asking.โ He declared.
โ
โIโm not as drunk as you think. The alcohol doesnโt make me dumberโฆ it just gives me more confidence to do what I want.โ You reply, standing in his bathroom, only in lace briefs and panties.
โ
He thought about it again, but stopped himself... again. This time, not before blood began rushing to his crotch. โYouโreโฆ going to regret this in the morning.โ
โ
โI might hide behind it tomorrow if Iโm shy, butโฆ regret?โฆโ You slowly shook your head, pursing your lips to the side.
โ
โSo youโd act dumb.โ
โ
โBeen doing it at work all the time,โ you edged closer to him,your fingers tracing over the already loose tie around his neck, as if the knot was one of the most intricate puzzles in the world. โHow else would anyone listen to me?โ
โ
You pressed yourself against him, his hard pressing on your thigh, and your core gently rubbing on his, and you undid the neck piece. He ran a hand over his face. He was losing composure running back to those thoughts, but now, he didnโt try to stop himself. โThen I guess I was wrongโฆ You did know exactly what you were doing yesterday.โ
โ
You gasp, but not from finally conquering the tieโs knot. โIs my boss actuallyโฆapologising?โ Sarcasm fueling your words.
โ
He smirked. โItโs an admission of error.โ
โ
You leaned closer, inches away from his lips. โDonโt worry, I forgive youโฆ if you get in the shower with me.โ
โ
Rest assured, he didnโt waste any time. He pulled you into a messy kiss while his arm wrapped around your waist. He wasnโt shy with anything either. One arm steadied you as he backed you into the shower; another was deep inside the fabric covering your ass, his large hand already palming over it, gently kneading it.
โ
His mouth was busy with yours, tongue already added to the equation, the taste of sparkling wine flooding his mouth, but he didnโt care, too high on the feeling of finally having you in his arms. You tripped over the slightly raised platform of the shower; he didnโt catch you, he let the wall do that, pinning you against it as his intruding fingers began to slip between your thighs.
โ
You grasped for his bicep to steady yourself; in doing so, your elbow hit the knob of the shower, causing water to fall on both of you. He didnโt care, didnโt let the water soaking through his dress shirt and showing every curve and dip of his defined muscles stop him. All the water did was raise the fog around you two.
๐ 02 ๐ฆฏ The morning before he's supposed to leave for a mission
๐ ๐ฆฏ 03. Morning fucks like these are all the reassurance he needed
๐ 04 ๐ฆฏ. What a little teasing can do to a touch-starved boy like Genya
๐ ๐ฆฏ.05 He swears he's not rough, but on days like this, you find it hard to believe him
๐ ๐ฆฏ 06. He couldnโt help it, you just looked so peaceful sleeping next to him with no panties on
๐ ๐ฆฏ 07. It took a lot of convincing and begging for Genya to let you do this. Iโd say it was worth it for both of you
๐ ๐ฆฏ 08. Genya was supposed to be resting and healing for his next mission, but you hadnโt seen your boyfriend in so long, and who knows when youโd see him again?
โgenโngh, anyone can come hereโ
โplease. i need youโ
๐ ๐ฆฏ 09. After an intense fight, Genya just needs your pussy to cool down...unluckily...or luckily for you, he's still in his half-demon form
๐ ๐ฆฏ 10. This is why you two can't be sent on a mission together; not only would you consistently argue and blame each other for any minor inconvenience, but also... You'd also find yourself bent over in the hotel room.
REZITIO. Im so sorry this took so long i finished this back in december but never posted it :(((
Fusui knows how to take care of her lover. She is attentive and knows whatever you may need after youโve done it before you even say it. Immediately sheโs done, sheโs on the way downstairs for a glass, wipes, or a change of sheets, asking you if you have enough energy to take a shower.
Lots of cute kisses, cuddling, and sweet nothings after sex.
โ
B = Body Part (their favourite body part of theirs and also their partnerโs)
On herself, though she hasnโt thought of it much, she likes her fingers. She uses them a lot in her daily life. From pulling the trigger of a sniper at the right time or curling them inside of you.
She likes their convenience and how skilled she is in using themโฆ in both ways.
On you, she hasn't put thought behind it either. But if sheโd have to make a guessโprobably your thighs. She loves gripping them, biting the inner part and suffocating herself between them.
โ
C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)
As a Kure, I feel she always has the urge for breeding. Whether to be bred like Karura or to breed like Raian
But with a female partner, it doesnโt go away; it justโฆshifts. She loves seeing her cum on you; itโs a guilty pleasure. She likes making a mess, especially when she makes you make the mess.
D = Dirty Secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)
Sheโs not too kinky or so much into roleplayโBUT, I think the Kure blood in her would love a hunter/hunted roleplay.
โ
E = Experience (how experienced are they? Do they know what theyโre doing?)
Sheโs dabbling. Sheโs been with both genders. She has gained some experience, but not much. Though she does know what sheโs doing, learns her partner fast. Very good at reading reactions and responding without needing instructions.
โ
F = Favorite Position (this goes without saying)
Not very picky, but missionary comes up a lot for you guys. Missionary in all forms and variants
โ
G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)
Sheโs definitely playful. Teasing is big for her; maybe she even makes jokes, but thatโs before you get deep into it. When youโre both chasing your orgasms, nothing funny โ once it gets intense, she is focused.
But after sheโs back to teasing until itโs time to cum again.
โ
H = Hair ย (how well groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)
ย Doesn't pay too much attention but definitely tends to. Itโs not a bush like Ohmaโs, and it really depends on if she decided to have time to trim it today or not. But when it gets bushy, she does make an effort to actually trim it.
โ
I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)
Our girl is very romantic. Super attentive, her touch feels more loving than lustful. Wholesome words while sheโs fucking the life out of you, cuddling, romantic reasons for sex, flower beds and roses after wine โ she does it all!
As much as she can be nitty and gritty, she can also be all lovey-dovey.
โ
J = Jack Off ย (masturbation headcanon)
She masturbates here and there, thinking about you, nothing too special BUT FUCK. MASTERBATE IN FRONT OF HER, PLEASE. She will be so aroused and love it.
I imagine one time she came to your dorm unannounced because, y'know, she was in the area; she just wanted to check on you, boom. You were fucking moaning her name while fucking yourself; she was so into it.
โ
It was close to the full moonโs peak. Sometime between 11pm and 12 midnight. By this time, youโre usually asleepโwell, you should be considering the fact you told your girlfriend you were off to bed about thirty minutes ago.
Fusui had just finished a mission, and she was in your area. Not wanting to chase a train all the way back to Koyo, she decided to crash at your place.
She jumped down onto your balconyโhow many times does she have to tell you to lock the balcony door? If sheโs doing it, who knows who could be jumping from roof to roof hoping their girlfriendโs window is unlocked?
She entered silently, not wanting to wake you up. And of course with the assassin training you had, you didnโt even notice her arrival.
Didnโt even notice when she stood at your bedroom door, utterly shocked to see her own girlfriend, who was supposed to be dreaming about fairies and whatever the hell it is you dream of, dreaming of her curling her fingers inside you.
You didnโt notice, so you didnโt stop. Kept yelping her name, legs buckling from the vibrator, fingers aggressively trying to mimic the way Fusui moves.
She didnโt dare interrupt; how could she dare disrupt the beautiful art in front of her?
โ
K = Kink ย ย (one or more of their kinks)
CYBER SEX. This is so in line for her.
I imagine because sheโs travelling a lot for missions, which involve long stakeouts and boredom, she wouldnโt mind sending a flirty or suggestive text to her girl.
And if possible, even a FaceTime to see you trying to mimic her fingers, which ties in with her voyeurism kink. Most definitely she would like that, but she may not be too big on recording, much less sharing the video on porn sites.
Itโs mostly a private thing between you two.
And possibly roleplay.
L = Location ย (favorite places to do the do)
She may not mind too much. But I can definitely imagine a honeymoon dream would be to eat you out at a coastal resort, facing the ocean on an early morning.
Or near the rocks on the sand, late at night, as the tide slowly reaches to the soles of your feet before retreating back.
โ
M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)
She has pretty good discipline. BUT BUT BUT. Wear a fucking swimsuit and see how far you can go without her ripping it off. Itโs not even about the revelling sexual aspect.
The thought of you doing something she likes is just so heartwarming it makes her want to fuck it off you.
โ
N = No (something they wouldnโt do, turn-offs)
Anything that disrespects consent or is too hardcore. Sheโs not her brother that is into cruelty, humiliation, or control that goes too far.
โ
O = Oral ย (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)
Enjoys both, but especially giving. Something about letting her princess lie back while she feasts is too heartwarming.
โ
P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)
She goes how her partner goes. She can go extremely fast, but if it's maybe too much and overbearing, she'd slow down. She finds a pace based on how well you receive her.
Generally she likes starting slow, teasing the fuck out of you, before finding the perfect pace, going fast when sheโs close and settling down again.
โ
Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)
They save her so much time. Absolutely obsessed with them.
She especially loves them before a long stake-out. So the entire time sheโs got her mind on something. How you moved, moaned or what sheโs going to do to you next.
โ
R = Risk (are they game to experiment? Do they take risks? etc.)
Definitely a risky person. She's always suggesting new stuff.
And she loves, loves, loves risky places.
โ
S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for? How long do they last?)
All night long
โ
T = Toys
STRAP. SHE HAS A STRAP. STRAPS.
A monster one, a tentacle, but her favourite is the normal one. Itโs โnormalโ but has a wide girth that says otherwise.
Loves vibrators of any kind, especially magic wand or remote control ones. (Esp. remote control during cybersex.)
โ
U = Unfair
Very. She loves teasing you to your breaking point, then pretending she did nothing.
She does it by overstimulation, playfully teasing physically/verbally, or making foreplay unnecessarily long at moments you're so needy.
โ
V = Volume
Fusui is not loud. Her volume is quite low, but sheโs not silent.
Itโs usually low moans, heavy breathing or low teases. She only ever gets loud when sheโs overstimulated or loses control.
โ
Y = Yearning
She has a stable, moderate sex drive. She does crave sex frequently, but itโs more for emotional connection; yearning when itโs just lust lowers her sex drive.
She can get turned on by the most random things, like how you pronounce a word or yawn early in the mornings. Just loves everything about you.
You're the calm in her stressful life, and she likes to spend intimate time with you
โ
Z = Zzz
It depends on how long of a day sheโs had. If it was a long day,you. like long from normal activities like swimming, studies, or even a peaceful calm day, then sheโs drained pretty fast.
But if itโs after a mission-packed day, although sheโs tired, she twists and turns in her bed for a while before sheโs actually able to fall asleep.
So how did you discover Kengan and what was your first favorite character? I came across Hayami when I was looking at Baki characters and discovered the Kengan manga. Lihito was my first favorite.
Personally, much like others, I watched Baki first.
I remember saying nobody in the world can convince me to watch that weird ass show, but I watched someone review the Muhammad Ali episodes, and I had such a good laugh
Next thing I knew, I was on Netflix bingeing, laughing my ass off.
For Kengan, I watched the crossover movie after finishing Baki, and I was like 'wait these guys are kinda cool', so I went to watch that too.
BUT I REMEMBER FEELING SO UNEASY THE FIRST TIME I SAW RAIAN KURE
I TALK A LITTLE ABT IT HERE, BUT HE MADE ME FEEL SO UNCOMFORTABLE, LIKE HOW CAN ONE BE SUCH A MENACE?
Kengan Ashura is like Baki but like there's actually a plot. If i were to pick one, maybe KA because of how extensive the lore is but if i want shits and giggles Baki is such a stupid concept it's funny with its own hints of lore (that usually gets covered in piss)
Frat!kuna is like my brother.. I know dada and he wouldn't cheat on me nor would he be emotionally abusive ๐ฅบ (am I delusional to think fratkuna can be shy and submissive ๐...?)
โ ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ โ highschool college au
<- Back
NOTE: this is a series masterlist, normal jjk masterlist here
THIS IS CHANGED FROM HIGH SCHOOL SENIORS TO COLLEGE SENIORS CUZ I REALISED IT WAS TO WAY TOO NEAR THE AGE OF CONSENT
'PRESIDENT GOJO SATORU? THE WHORE?"
LEGACY AND THE FACE OF THE FRAT. DON'T EXPECT TOO MUCH OR TOO LITTLE FROM HIM.
warnings: academic rival!tutor!bullied!bf!dom!sub!nerdjo x rr. porno vids, toys, bondage, jerking it, bullying, tit sucking, unsafe, hate sex, oralf! piv and many more
"WHERE IS VP SUGURU GETOโWHAT'S HE DOING AT KFC?"
SECTARY AND VICE PRESIDENT OF THE FRAT
001: "๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐"
leak: After Getoโs friends find out he managed to fuck one of the hardest girls to lay, they pester him about the details
munch [n.] โ referring to a thirsty man who often fiends to perform cunnilingins (oral sex on the female genitalia) or a man obsessed with the sexual act .
so I mean it when I say ALL HANMA MEN ARE MUNCHS/EATERS
baki hanma, who, unlike his father or brother, is not shy about begging for it. Often begging and whines lazily to eat his girl out without shame. It's enough to make him bust in his pants, reveling in the mess you've made him create in his pants and the one you made on his face.
โฆ 01. 02. 03
yujiro hanma, who has too much testosterone to ever succumb to his urges without having a reason for it. It is always under the guise of 'punishment', 'reward', or even when he has no agenda to push, 'bearing your fruit' โ whatever the hell that means. He believes to beg is weakness, even more so to give without gaining anything in return is stupidity. But when he does it, it's totally fine. ...also eats ass
โฆ 01. 02. 03
jack hanma, who cannot lie to himself nor tried to. He was honest and blunt in his cravings for your pussy. He didn't beg or demandโjust told you what he wants; it depends on you whether he gets it.
He chases your orgasm, doesn't allow any movements or anything to shake him off that pussy. Safe words are a must because he can and will go on for days
id like to request an mha izuku smut (tiniest sprinkles of angst because i love hurting myself if that's okay with you ๐ผโผ๏ธ) where he's a sex obsessed beast to the point it's like he doesn't even love reader anymore?? ๐ฅบ๐ฅบ slightly sad ending kinda c:
Love was a funny word to call what you two had. Maybe in the beginning, that is what it started as. Maybe when you were just a girl working at the coffee shop, heโd take breaks in during his patrol, or even if you were an old friend suddenly weaving your way back to him through the liking of the same coffee shop; maybe then you could have called it love.
The flutters in his stomach, the lightening of his head whenever he saw you, or when you called out his name, โIzukuโ. He almost felt like a teenage boy cheesing over a girl he could only dream of kissing. How much more doing the things in his mind when it wanders off too far, too often? Like making you his in an official way, like marriage, or having underneath himโor on top, he wasnโt picky when it came to daydreaming about your naked body.โ
You were so different from the world he lived in. You were his escape from it all.
The fact that he only saw you during his breaks in that cafe, or the way you would call out his name, โIzukuโ, instead of his hero name, โDekuโ, classically conditioned him to associate you with the peace heโd have, right before heโd have to go back into the field where the deaths never ended. All the comrades and civilians lost their lives because he wasnโt good enough.
โ
Heโd come to your smile after a long day, listen to you whining about closing up but making an exception for him, refusing to give him anymore coffee past the 22nd hour of the day, laughing with him about nothing related to his hero work while he sipped whatever surprise drink you whipped up for him. It felt like the loss of lives hours prior wasnโt his fault, right now, he could relax and revel in the peace right before you had to leave, and the thoughts consumed him again.
โ
He associated you with peace.
โ
Even then, from the beginning of all this, there were no clear boundaries.
In all your late-night talks, you two never talked about what you were. It was clear you both liked each other more than just simple friends, but in all the conversations you two had, the topic of a label escaped you both.
โ
Anyone could call what you two had dating, but you preferred not to put a label on it. Amusing, considering the fact that you two shied at the thought of calling it dating but embraced sex so openly when it came
โ
First time you had sex was unintentional. You were leaving after another late-night walk, but he didnโt want to cross the road that led to your front door; he didnโt want to let you go just yet. Today had been a horrible day. And he just wasnโt ready to hear his thoughts just yet. He needed to stay with youโ just a little longer till he could bear them.
โ
Desperately, he spun you around and kissed you. Almost like a plea, he begged you not leave him just yet. Surprisingly to him, you kissed back, but to you? You had been waiting for this for so long.
โ
Both of you were desperate in the kiss. He was desperately trying to silence himself and keep you a little longer, and you chased to satisfy the urge you felt ever since you found someone whoโd listen to your stories and complaints. You felt like you needed to thank him somehow, and that you wanted to show him your appreciation this way. Not to mention your desire to be held by him, more intimate than when he catches you in a fall.
โ
Eventually, you found yourself home, but instead of sleeping off the day, your legs were wrapped around his pelvis, crying out his name as he sucked your nipple.
โ
He was rough the first night, but not in the same way he is now. He was rough because he couldn't get enough. That night, he praised your body, practically worshiped every part of you, several rounds until you finally told him you couldnโt anymore, and back then, he listened.
โ
Afterwards, he was shaking way more than you. You could blame it on the moonlight, but you swore his cheeks glistened from the tears that poured from his glossy eyes. You donโt talk about it right away. He falls asleep on you, utterly spent. Youโre left lying there, staring at the ceiling, not knowing what to make of this.
โ
In the morning, heโs gone, with a little note and everything you might need. But the next time he comes to the shop from patrol, exhausted and depressed, it happens again. But this time he's much gentler, savoring the pleasure, extending the intimate moment for as long as he can
โ
Before long, it becomes a constant. Every time you saw each other, it would end with him on the verge of tears, babbling how good you felt, and you adding to his already decorated back with temporary red slashes whenever you tried to accommodate his length.
โ
He equated sex with you to safety and relief, and honestly, you were fine with the regular fucks. Maybe if what happened hadnโt happened, he would have stayed sweet. Maybe instead of the dark road he chose, you two would have married under a white rose garland instead of the glare coercion.
โ
As much as you tell yourself you hate him now, you canโt completely blame him for what happened. He was in the middle of healing, wasnโt ready, but life didnโt care.
โ
God tested him before he had time to prepare. You could link the switch in behaviour back to the night he stood beside you on your hospital bed. It wasnโt anyoneโs fault; living in a world where anyone could have the ability to do anything, you were bound to be collateral at least once in your life.
โ
Nothing serious, trulyโas much as many have the ability to end a life, many have the power to save one. You were expected to get back to work in a day or two, but for wounds that werenโt physical injuries. Such like this; would be difficult to patch up and put a sticker on, not for you, for Izuku.
โ
He was there, but he noticed you too late; you were already buried under a rubble of rock. Logically? How could he have even noticed? His attention on dodging cars and lamp posts being thrown at him, he had backed the villain into a building, their gigantic frame causing the already unstable structure you and a couple of others were hiding underneath, to collapse.
โ
The harbinger of chaos had fallen unconscious, but left a wreck you got caught up in. It wasnโt seriousโanother supporting hero had caught some of the rumble, but not before some slipped and crushed your leg.
โ
It hurt, but you knew, though dislocated, it could be fixed. Someone somewhere could fix it before Thursday. And someone did.
โ
After being administered a ridiculous amount of adderall and a doctor making your leg glow before snapping it to place, you were fine, ready to be discharged in the morning.
โ
Izuku visited you. You werenโt even expecting him, as you hadnโt told him you were in the hospital for the night. But you couldnโt ask, your mind stuck on something else. From the way he walked into the room, the look in his eyes, and the tone of his voice, you could tell something had changed.
โ
He did what anyone would do: bring flowers, ask how you were doing, if you needed anything from home, and when youโd be discharged. But the boredom in his now monotone voice, the emptiness threatening to swallow you whole in his eyes, everything was wrong, though he was doing it all right.
โ
He stayed past visiting hours, and you two talked like you always did, well, you spoke. Not even about the events of today, but how much you hated making a certain drink or cleaning up a certain machine. Small rants
โ
But instead of attentive questions or small chuckles, you got hums and nods delivered with an absent look. Midoriyaโs mind was somewhere farโwell, not that far, it was back a few hours ago. When he saw you in a stretcher being carried into an ambulance.
โ
He was tired, exhausted, ready to type a report and rush over so you wouldnโt wait on him too long, only to see you not behind a counter in an empty shop past its closing hours, open just for him. But on a stretcher, pain panned across your face.
โ
He froze in that instant. Watched as the ambulance drove past him, he knew that you were fine, the paramedics had already given him an overview. No deaths, and a few civilians with injuries.
โ
But it could have easily been worse. The sudden realisation that you could get hurt, suffer, or even die collapsed on him. He could not lose you. That was final
โ
If you go, then what? Whoโd silence his thoughts, which voice would calm his fears, what would he look forward to at the end of the day?
โ
He went about his remaining tasks on autopilot. His mind was narrowed, plotting with the same focus he uses in drafting fight strategies, but this time it focused on how he was going to tie you down, latest next week.
โ
You were far too vulnerable out of his grasp. What happens during the other 15-20 hours heโs not by you? He canโt risk getting hurt again, not after the war.
โ
That's why he was silent as you spoke. His mind was detailing every part of his plan, unable to crack a smile until you are safe.
โ
He proposes the next week after sex. Though heโs been weird the whole week, the sex remained the only constant between you two. But he no longer cried at that end; in fact, he barely served himself. He would eat you out until you had to forcibly push his head away after far too many orgasms, or he would get lost in thought while his fingers are inside you, causing him to push you far to your limits.
โ
You were taken aback by his proposal. No ring, no fancy dinner, only scenery being the nightlife outside the window, or the rotating ceiling fan. It was too soon and too abrupt. Butโฆ you had already thought of marrying him, you loved him and truly wanted a future with him, so why the hell not right? Never too early to settle down.
โ
You said yes and got eloped the next day, though he did promise that if you wanted, you could have a wedding ceremony later, though it never really happened. You moved in, and suddenly your life shut down.
โ
Four years after โDekuโ made it to the top, rivaling the likes of โLemillionโ, โDynamiteโ, or โShoto'. You were managing a little bakery in Dekuโs patrolling districtโthe only form of freedom youโve had and even had to beg for.
โ
The press is starting to catch up to the fact he has a wife four years late, but they would never discover your true relationship. Not when he speaks about you so lovingly, which, in a way, he still views you as. Though his actions barely reflect that.
โ
He acts kind, aware of how much you hate him, and apologizes so much that the word gets annoying in your ear. But he is still obsessed with you, obsessed with the peace you give him, the sight he sees at nightโpractically every night, with how often he's down on you.
โ
Heโs addicted to sex. Craves it so intensely every night before, or morning after, thereโs no time limit and no way to satisfy it. After every time he orgasms, you think youโve calmed the beast, only for him to remain hard and go on until either you or his body gives up.
โ
He still treats you right, buys you gifts, takes care of you, and listens to you. Even if seeing family becomes an argument.
โ
But now, you wonder, will this become an argument or a victory for him? Should you be happy for yourself or cry knowing youโre never going to get out of here?
The pregnancy test felt unbearably heavy in your hands. Seeing those two pink lines blurred your vision and made you buckle before you could catch yourself on the cold ceramic sink.
Unfortunately, it made a sound too loud, alerting your husband, who was already worried, when you rushed into the bathroom before him, saying it was urgent and you had to go in before him.
โ
He cracked open the door slowly, intentionally giving you time to react to his arrival, but not enough to stop him from entering. โAre you okayโฆ did you fall?โ
โ
You froze, unable to move, the pregnancy test clattered near the door. His gaze fell on the test on the floor, processing its results to only look back at you, then the result again.
in another life i am ๐
i am proudly GHANAIAN but i love south african culture, i feel like if i wasnt beautifully ghanaian next best would be south african the cultures are so similar (pop and historically)
i heard it from a dj when i was in sa and asked him wht it meant, phrase stuck w me ever since
โก โ ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐: The wife of Ryomen Sukuna, the richest man in town, has gone missing, and Detective Gojo is on the case. Detective Gojo also doesnโt particularly like your husband.
โก โ ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐: Entrepreneur! Sukuna x reader x Detective! Gojo || fem reader, mentions of death/murder, kidnapping, violence against reader, corrupt justice system, suggestive, everyone has a secret, and everyone just loves you, honestlyโฆ
Sukuna laughed without humor. With his drink in hand, he gestured in Kentoโs direction, and Satoru noticed the scraped-up skin along his knuckles. โSatoru, I called you here because Iโm about to kill this fucking man, and you should know why.โ
While Satoruโs face might have been as blank as a fresh canvas in the possession of an uninspired artist, his insides were screaming. His stomach churned, and not because he ate greasy egg rolls at an ungodly morning hour, but because he couldnโt tell if Sukuna was joking or not.
He waited before speaking, for Sukuna to follow up his own words โ his own threat โ with a laugh, a slap of the knee to hint that it was all one big joke, followed by a little, aha, gotcha! or whyโd you eat the last of my buffalo dip? I could kill you, Kento!
But no one said a word.
It was so quiet, he could only hear the muffled footsteps belonging to the maid on an entirely different side of Sukunaโs mansion, nearest the kitchen and one of the guest bathrooms.
โWhy do you want to kill him, Ryomen?โ Satoru asked softly, his voice non-threatening, tone casual; the way they taught law enforcement to speak to people who were on the brink of confessing their sins, or committing one.
Everyone, from the adults who worked at the spas, clubs, bars, resorts, and every business Ryomen Sukuna owned and operated, to their children who swam in the pools belonging to said resorts their parents worked at, knew good and well that Ryomen Sukuna was a murderer.
It was common knowledge: The sky is blue. Red light means stop. Bees make honey. Sukuna kills people.
โWhy donโt you tell โem?โ Sukuna glared at Kento โ oh, if looks could kill, he wouldnโt ever have to step foot in his at-home armory โ and he continued, โGet a head start on your last words.โ
โLet me explain, Ryomen-โ
โExplain what?โ Satoru interrupted Kento, scooting towards the edge of his seat, turning his head back and forth between the scared man and the pissed off one like a dog following a dangling treat. He wasnโt supposed to rush the conversation according to the joke-but-not-really-a-joke book he read upon getting hired years ago, Detective Basics: How To Question Citizens Like a Pro 101, but he couldnโt help it.
Kentoโs breath hitched. He faced Satoru with a look the other man hadnโt ever seen before: Kento Nanami, coming undone.
Oh, was he a mess.
His eyes were filled with sorrow. Red, lightning strike-like streaks contrasted against the white of his eyes, surrounding each hazel iris. The strands of his blonde hair were messy from the aftermath of him running his fingers through it. Even the buttons of his shirt were misaligned.
He got here in a hurry, thatโs why he looks like a mess, Satoru thought. What the hellโs going on?
Satoru gazed at Sukuna again, watching his movements. The halfway-drunk man leaned forward to place his glass of golden alcohol on the coffee table. But he didnโt stop there. That scraped-up hand of his went underneath the table, and when Satoru saw those bruised knuckles again as he pulled his hand back out, they were nearly white from how hard he gripped his gun.
Satoru pulled out his own weapon quickly, removing the gun that was strapped to the holster on his belt with both ease and speed that came with having been in similar frightening scenarios over and over again. Still, his blue eyes widened as he rose to his feet unsteadily, almost as if he were a newbie who had never come face to face with the possibility of dying or witnessing death.
The sweat droplets that started to form on his forehead existed because Sukuna pointed his gun at Kento, and never before had Satoru been tasked with trying to save a cherished coworker at the bare minimum, and a friend at best.
He gulped nervously, and yet, without hope. If Sukuna wanted Kento dead, heโd kill him.
And if, following that, Sukuna turned his gun on Satoru and Satoru had to shoot him before heโd too end up a dead body on Ryomen Sukunaโs floor, then no one would ever get any answers.
โRyomen, just calm down,โ Satoru said with as much gentleness as he could muster. He pointed his gun at Sukuna, who had his gun pointed at Kento, who was undoubtedly hating the fact that he showed up here unarmed.
โYou invited me here for a reason, right?โ Satoru continued. โYou said you wanted to tell me what was going on, so why donโt we all just take a deep breath and talk it through? No one has to die today.โ
โShut the fuck up,โ Ryomen said calmly. โHeโs gonna die today, and you too if you keep talking.โ
Satoru gritted his teeth.
Sukuna propped his elbow up on the couch and rested the hand that was without a murder weapon against his cheek.
โWhatโs going on is that Iโm not stupid. I knew this guy wanted my wife all to himself, always saw the way he looked at her, that sorta thing. Only reason I let it slide was because they were friends. If I did something to him, she never wouldโve forgiven me. But ever since sheโs been missing, I started to tear this goddamn town apart myself.โ Ryomen paused, turning his gun to the side as he eyed the destroyed skin on his knuckles like it was a piece of beautiful art. โMy hands look like this because I did what I could to get answers out of people. But, at some point, I realized that I should check out the quiet bastard who eyefucks my wife whenever he can, who knows a thing or two about missing people, hiding bodies, everything in between. I had someone search his house while he was gone, and you know what we found?โ
Ryomen smiled miserably.
โHer jacket, hanging right in his closet like theyโre a goddamn couple, like he owns it. I bet he has her in a basement somewhere, thinking he owns her.โ
So, she did make it to Kento's house after fighting with Ryomen, Satoru thought. And Kento didnโt say a word. Why? Donโt tell me thereโs some truth to what Ryomenโs accusing him of. Donโt tell me.
โThere could be many explanations for that, Ryomen. But in order to figure them out, you canโt kill him. You wanted me here so I could hear this and move the investigation in the right direction, and Iโm telling you right now that I canโt get to the bottom of it all if you kill the last person we know she mightโve seen that night.โ
โI plan to kill โem after I force some answers out of him.โ
โThen heโd be lying just to save his own skin.โ The gun in Satoruโs hand started to become slick with sweat. โPeople donโt tell the truth when they have a gun to their face, they just say whatever they think will save their life, and itโs usually a lie. Youโve tortured enough people to know that, Ryomen. Donโt kill him. You said your wife wouldnโt want you to hurt him-โ
โYou dumbass, I think sheโd be fine with it if he fucking hurt her.โ Ryomen suddenly rose to his feet, now speaking to the man at the other end of his gun rather than to Satoru. โDid you? Did you fucking hurt her?โ
โNo.โ
โThen where the hell is she?โ Ryomen clenched his jaw and walked over. His gun was now pressed against Kentoโs chest, against his rapidly beating heart. โYou know, donโt you? You know everything, you sick piece of shit?โ
Kento didnโt respond.
โLet me bring him in for questioning, Ryomen. Iโll get answers out of him. Real ones. I promise.โ Satoru took a cautious step closer. โIf you want to find your wife, we need him alive.โ
It seemed as if an eternity, plus an extra day, had passed before Ryomen lowered his gun.
Satoru released a shaky breath of relief, and as he eyed Kento, he noticed the composed man didnโt do the same.
I was more afraid than he was, and he was the one with a gun aimed at him, Satoru thought.
โSmart decision, Ryomen,โ Satoru said.
โShut up.โ
Satoru didnโt respond. He, instead, approached Kento, mumbled a little letโs go, and took the man to his car, their footsteps silently clacking against the polished marble floors.
Ryomen watched from his doorstep as the two of them got into the vehicle and drove off, his eyes following Kento the entire time. And that look told Kento that, for as long as he lived, he would never feel safe again.
Satoru and Kento rode in silence for a moment, nothing to be heard except for the occasional soft sigh and the gentle rumble of the engine.
Once Satoru approached his first red light, he spoke up.
โIf I were you, I wouldnโt even try to go back for your car. Ryomenโs probably placed a bomb in it by now.โ
No response.
Satoru darted his eyes over at the man and saw that he was glancing out of the passenger seat window.
With somewhat of a whisper, Satoru added on, โAnd, if he did do that, would he be entirely in the wrong to have do so?โ
That made Kento turn his head and stare at him. His eyes were glossy, and in truth, Satoru couldnโt tell if it was the look of guilt, or the look of hurt.
โI thought you were seemingly taking his side to spare my life,โ Kento gave a small, bitter laugh. โTo realize that you truly think I did something horrid to her is . . .โ
โI didnโt want Ryomen to know this, but we found her diary. She wrote about wanting to see you that night. We just didnโt know if she made it there, but now we do.โ Satoru gripped the steering wheel even though he had nowhere to go. โI gotta be honest. It looks bad, Kento. Youโre a detective, you know this. So, you know you'd better start talking if you wanna clear your name.โ
โThereโs nothing I could say that would make me seem more innocent. So, why bother talking at all?โ Kento stared down at his hands.
โI believe youโre innocent. A jacket doesnโt mean anything,โ Satoru smiled in an attempt to lighten the mood. โI have plenty of things at my house that belong to my friends. Every time I grab a shirt, I gotta wonder if it belongs to Suguru, and Iโm pretty sure half of the coffee mugs in my cabinet originally belonged to Shoko. If one of them went missing, Iโd look just as guilty as you do right now. I just . . . you gotta talk, Kento. This is bigger than the law, this is your life right now. Ryomen Sukuna wants to kill you, and unless I can put his wife in his arms and prove you had nothing to do with it, and soon . . . I mean, I still wanna believe Ryomenโs guilty. God, I really fucking do. I wanna tell myself that heโs trying to frame you, that heโs upset that youโre close to his wife, and is trying to pretend itโs because he thinks you did something to her, trying his hardest to seem innocent by blaming you, anything. Heโs just hiding too much to be completely innocent. We know they fought that night and he didnโt tell us about it, plus the weird coincidences like the security cameras being down, no guards around, and in general, his wife was seeking comfort from another man-โ
โItโs not like that. Weโre just friends.โ
โI know, but still.โ
โWhat are you playing at, Satoru?โ Kento stared at the man with unforgiving eyes.
โHuh?โ
โJust in the span of a few minutes, Ryomen committed and admitted to three crimes minimum, and yet, there arenโt any cops on the way to his house right now.โ
โI . . .โ Satoru sighed. Finally, the red light turned green. โIf you wanna send cops to his house, thatโs your right-โ
โNo, thatโs my job. Our job.โ
โI know, I know, but you gotta understand. What happened just now made me realize that I need to be on Ryomenโs good side.โ
โBecause you donโt want him to kill you?โ
โBecause he trusts me enough to tell me things. Itโs not like you wouldโve told me anything, clearly.โ Satoru paused as he drove past a semi-crowded McDonald's. โYou know what worries the shit outta me, Kento?โ
โWhat?โ
โThe fact that, if you are innocent, you never said a word about her coming to see you before she went missing. You do realize that weโve spent days operating with the belief that Ryomenโs first house was her last known location, right? You let us go about this all wrong just to save your own skin, and meanwhile, who knows what could be happening to her? You knew . . . you knew we were miles away from where she was last seen, chasing false leads, and you kept quiet . . . you kept quiet, knowing she could be somewhere, locked up, tortured, scared. What if sheโs dead? What if we find her dead body, all because we were too late to save her, because you delayed us to save your own ass? What if we find her alive and so goddamn traumatized, a lifetime of therapy wonโt be enough to make her smile again, all because she had to endure whatever the hell she could be going through even longer, all because of you?โSatoruโs grip on the steering wheel tightened. โWhether you did something to her or not, in my eyes, youโre just as guilty either way, detective.โ
Without missing a beat, Kento spoke with great ease, and if Satoruโs words meant nothing to him. โTell me, Detective Gojo, when you read her diary and realized she might have gone to my house, were you planning on issuing a search warrant? Questioning me, before now? I bet not. I bet you were too focused on the fact that you caught Ryomen in another lie. I bet you were going to question him until he confessed to a crime he didnโt commit just to get you to shut your mouth. All the while, she could, as you said, be somewhere locked up, tortured, scared, or dead, because you delayed the investigation by being fixated on one man. You care more about locking Ryomen up than you do about finding his wife. Is it jealousy? Because she picked someone like him, who you categorize as a bad man, over you? A brave, brilliant detective who makes less money but has a better heart?โ
โOh, please. I donโt even know her. Sounds like youโre projecting your feelings onto me.โ
โOr, perhaps, weโre both cut from the same cloth. Weโre both guilty in some way.โ
โ
Within the detached buildings of the police station that served as the specialized unit for detectives and investigators, the coffee-sipping peers and paperwork-filing coworkers all greeted Kento Nanami with smiles of admiration, questions about his day, and compliments to his work. Some went as far as to express their condolences: I heard youโre friends with Mrs. Sukuna, Iโm sorry for what youโre going through, they would say. It must be hard to not be able to help out with the case.
Satoru couldnโt help but scoff as he trailed behind the well-respected man. Far fewer people greeted him. It was Detective Nanami they smiled at. Detective Nanami they worshipped. Nanami, Nanami, Nanami.
Satoru led him to a private office rather than an interrogation room. Kento sat down in the chair behind the desk โ even now, he was acting like a boss he oh so desired to be in a few short years โ and Satoru stood in the doorway, hand on the doorknob as he mumbled, โWait here. Iโll be right back. Donโt even think about leaving.โ
With a soft thud, he shut the door, then made his way down the hallway until he located a small room.
He knocked three times before entering.
โAnything?โ Satoru questioned, eyeing his dark-haired partner, or, rather, the diary in his hands. Stepping inside and shutting the door behind him, he heard Suguru sigh.
He closed the diary he picked apart like a worshipper might read a bible. โNothing useful to this investigation, no.โ
โWhat kinda stuff does she write about?โ Taking a seat in the brown chair across from the table Suguru sat at, Satoru darted his blue eyes back and forth between the diary and the exhausted man.
โEverything. Quite literally everything. Recipes, her sex life, friends, family-โ
โAnything on Kento?โ
โAside from her final entry? Not much. Itโs clear she truly doesnโt have feelings for him.โ Suguru scratched the side of his head. โThe most concerning things she wrote about would be the handful of rude or perverted people sheโs encountered, and, of course, Ryomen taking care of those situations immediately after.โ
โOh,โ Satoru darted his eyes to the side. โAfter we left Ryomenโs house, he called me, told me to come to his second house, and guess who was there? Kento. Ryomen was about to blow his brains out. I had to talk him out of it. Apparently, he isnโt a fan of Kento and his wife being buddies, wanted to check him out himself, had someone snoop through his house, and found her jacket.โ
โSo she made it to his house after all.โ
โYep,โ running a hand down his face out of pure exhaustion, thinking, I need more coffee, Satoru continued, โNow Kentoโs acting all weird. I got on to him about delaying our investigation by not being honest, ya know? Thatโs a shitty thing to do if heโs innocent and just doesnโt wanna be questioned, so Iโm thinking heโs not so innocent after all. I keep going back and forth. I just donโt wanna believe someone like him could do something like this. Whatever this is. Anyway, I got โem sitting in the office, waiting to be questioned, and, um, I need you to work on getting a search warrant for his place. Honestly, Iโm thinking of arresting him for obstruction of justice just because he pissed me off. Not only did he withhold information, delay us, all that, but that asshole had the nerve to say weโre cut from the same cloth, all because I assumed Ryomen, a murderer, would be entirely capable of murdering his own wife. And Iโm the bad guy? Gimme a break.โ
โHm.โ
Satoru blinked, then shook his head, white strands tickling his forehead. โNo . . . no, I know what that hm means. You agree with him.โ
With yet another soft sigh, Suguru said, โWell, I havenโt been exactly quiet about voicing my concern over you clearly targeting Ryomen, have I?โ He peered down at the diary, flipping through a couple of pages as if something would stand out. โBut, as I said, Iโm going to help you no matter whether or not I think the direction youโre going in is the best course of action.โ
โYou donโt have to let me take the lead all the time, Suguru. Cโmon, weโre not just partners, weโre friends. If you think we should . . . we should go with plan C instead of A, I wanna know. Youโre one of the best detectives here, and probably the only one who doesnโt have any personal involvement.โ
โAre you admitting to being personally involved?โ
โHuh?โ Satoruโs white brows shot up to his hairline.
โYou just said Iโm the only one who doesnโt have any personal involvement. Iโm assuming you said that because Kento is clearly involved, and other detectives may know either her or her husband, but what about you? Why didnโt you group yourself in with me when you mentioned people who arenโt personally involved?โ Suguruโs dark eyes met Satoruโs bright ones, and for the first time throughout his career, Satoru understood what it was like to be a nervous suspect, questioned in an interrogation room, every word picked apart into pieces. โI asked you this earlier, but you didnโt respond. Do you know this woman?โ
Satoruโs leg started to bounce out of pure nerves. โNo, I donโt. I just meant that Iโm the lead detective, so I feel like I know her personally, ya know? Youโre handling everything from a distance, but Iโm the one who was going through her social media, things like that.โ
โI just went through her belongings with you and read her diary.โ
โSuguru,โ Satoru tossed his head back with a little whine. โYou gotta stop this habit of thinking everyone you meet has skeletons in their closet. Youโre making me feel like shit right now. Iโve known you for god knows how long, and you still donโt trust me as a person? Think about what youโre accusing me of right now.โ
Suguruโs intense gaze broke away from Satoru. With guilt, with shame, he glanced down at the diary like a scolded child. โSorry. I do trust you, Satoru. I always have. This entire case just has me feeling a little tired, and being capable of good judgment doesnโt seem possible right now. I even started glaring at Shoko a little, because she seemed too eager for us to find her body. Itโs always the excited ones.โ
โItโs alright. Honestly, the way you question everyone and everything gives me a little hope that weโll find her.โ
Satoru rose from his seat, the chair squeaking a bit as he scooted back.
โWhere are you off to?โ Suguru asked.
โIโm gonna see if I can find out who Ryomen got to search Kentoโs house. Then, as soon as you get me that search warrant, Iโm gonna search it myself.โ
โWhat about Kento? Are you going to arrest him?โ
โYeah. Heโll hate me, his reputation will be ruined, but itโs his own goddamn fault.โ
โArresting him could also be a way of saving his life.โ Suguru paused. โIf Ryomen wants him dead, a jail cell is the safest place for him.โ
โ
Satoru stepped into a restaurant that smelt of onion rings and wood. It screamed of wood, in fact, every wall, chair, and table was brown, with some holding guests, while most were empty and in need of a good wipe down.
Therefore, his blue eyes only had to give the place one quick scan before he caught sight of a dark-haired man sipping on a beer bottle.
โSo, youโre the guy Ryomen hired,โ Satoru took a seat across from Toji Fushiguro, who set his beer down on the table, smirking slightly with mild amusement.
โYeah.โ
โOrder whatever you want. Itโs on me.โ
โDamn right it is if you want something outta me,โ he eyed the detective suspiciously, but such distrust didnโt last long.
After all, he knew well that if Ryomen told him what he had him up to, then this was a detective who didnโt mind disrespecting the law he swore to uphold.
Satoru leaned forward a bit, not exactly whispering โ there was no need, as there were only a small handful of other diners, and they were focused on the boring sports game showcased on the television propped up on the wall โ and he said, โWhy did Ryomen ask you specifically to search Kentoโs house? Have you done investigative work before?โ
โPft, no. Hell no. Iโm just good at breakinโ and enterinโ, and Iโm not a total dumbass. I wasnโt lookinโ for hairs or anything, but I found that jacket.โ
โHowโd you know it was hers and not someone else's?"
โI sent a pic of it to Ryo just to be sure. A woman's jacket in a single manโs house seemed suspicious to me, especially โcause that detective guy isnโt known to sleep around, far as I know.โ
Satoruโs leg started to bounce with great impatience. โAnd thatโs the only thing you saw?โ
โThat,โ Toji looked off to the side, thinking. โAnd a framed photo of him and her. If I were a fool, I wouldโve thought he was her husband. But aside from that, I didnโt see nothinโ, sorry. Why are you talkinโ to me about it anyway? Go see for yourself.โ
โI am, but considering you went there touching and moving things around, Iโm sure any and all evidence is gone for good.โ
โAre you stupid or somethinโ? The guyโs a detective. If there was any evidence there in the first place, Iโm sure he wouldโve gotten rid of it. Doubt there was in the first place, though. Guyโs innocent.โ
A few shouts and cheers broke out from nearby gamewatchers reacting to a touchdown.
โWhat makes you so sure?โ Satoru asked casually and without true care for what he had to say.
โWhy would he keep her goddamn jacket if he killed her? Thatโs the one and only thing tyinโ him to all this. If he tossed it out, that wouldโve been suspicious, like he was hidinโ evidence, but he kept it and didnโt think nothinโ of it, and thatโs โcause he didnโt do anything wrong. Heโs innocent, trust me.โ
A waiter approached with a basket of wings, placing them in front of Toji.
Once he left, Satoru smirked, โYou watch too many thrillers. Everyday people arenโt as smart as you think. More often than not, guilty people still leave around the things thatโll nail โem.โ
โHeโs not an everyday person. Heโs a detective.โ
Satoru rose from the table.
โRight, well, enjoy your twenty-count wings, Mr. Fushiguro. Please let me know beforehand if and when Ryomen asks you to stick your head in this mess again.โ
โ
It was well into the night before Satoru was able to move forward with the case.
Kento Nanamiโs house felt like uncharted territory. He wasnโt the sort of man to invite people over for drinks after work โ certainly didnโt have Chinese food in the living room at five or six in the morning like Satoru and his friends did, that was for certain.
His house could barely be considered a home. It was too clean. Too cold. Smelled faintly of lemon-scented cleaning products. No signs of life beyond a coat hanging on a coat rack. That, and one of two framed photos he found on a coffee table.
He picked one up. It was you and him. Kentoโs hair was a tad bit shorter, dating the photo to have been taken at least three years ago, Satoru figured.
Jeez, he didnโt smile this bright even when our boss told us we were getting high raises, Satoru thought. Heโs in love with her.
Satoru put the photo down. He made his way towards a hallway closet and twisted the knob, opening the door slowly as if he expected something to jump out at him.
What the hell am I doing? Heโs a better detective than I am. I wonโt find anything here. He grabbed a box on the highest shelf and pulled it down. Shit, do I think heโs guilty or not? I gotta make up my mind. Does it matter what I believe, honestly? I just need to figure it out. Innocent or guilty, his lifeโs in danger. Well, I mean, if heโs guilty, Ryomen can do whatever he wants to him and I wonโt give a damn, but-
Within the box, there was a binder. Satoru figured it was one he held on to from his old high school days, perhaps considering that Kento was the nostalgic sort, but he was wrong.
The binder was filled with you. You in every way.
Photographs โ some with Kento and some with you and you alone โ long, neatly written letters confessing his love that he never, ever intended on giving you. There were movie tickets that he assumed belonged to films you both saw together. Concert tickets, festival tickets, letters, notes, more letters, more pictures, more tickets, more notes . . .
โHoly shit,โ Satoru mumbled, flipping through the pages. โHeโs fucking obsessed.โ
Pulling out his phone, Satoru dialed Suguru.
โSuguru, Iโm at Kentoโs house. I just found a big binder filled with all sorta things. Photos, love confessions, tickets to movies I guess they saw together, itโs . . . heโs obsessed. This doesnโt look good for him.โ Satoru rose to his feet, putting the box back, but keeping the binder tucked underneath his arm. โYeah, Iโm bringing it in. Alright. Bye.โ
Satoru searched the rest of the house, but only left with the binder at the end of it all. And the binder, as interesting as it was, wasnโt enough. One could argue that Kento followed the logic of if I canโt have you, no one can. It wouldnโt be the first time Satoru had to deal with such cases that disgusted him to his core. But, just as he did with those cases, he needed concrete evidence, and that binder was only proof that he was obsessed with you, not that he tossed your body into a river.
Satoru threw the binder in the back seat of his car โ it flipped open to a random page filled with your selfies, but he didnโt care โ and slammed the door as if the binder personally offended him.
His jaw was clenched. As he leaned against his car and stared up at the starry night sky, deep within himself, he wished he could say he hated the binder because it was rather creepy.
But that wasnโt the truth.
He felt it, it, being the twisted, bitter, rotten feeling of his heart skipping a beat, a lump forming in his throat, his stomach churning unpleasantly. It was the same feeling that occurred when he was going through your social media profile and came across your photos.
And he wasnโt an idiot. He knew exactly what it was. But he refused to admit to himself that he could feel such things over a person he didnโt know, and shook the thought away before making his way into his car.
His car rumbled and dinged as it came to life with the crank of his key. He eyed the needle pointed in the unfavorable direction, towards the E.
Damn it, I need gas, he thought.
And with that realization, he drove and made it less than half a mile before something started to dart across the road and land on the ground before him.
He swerved his car to avoid hitting what he assumed was a deer.
The vehicle came to a hard jerk as he slammed on the brakes, heart pounding.
With his nerves on edge enough already, his car door squeaked as he opened it, peering to see if he had hurt an innocent animal, but he had not.
The head of hair that the sides of his glowing headlights shone upon told him that he was staring at a human being.
A trembling, weak, human being.
He exited his car completely then.
โHey, are you alright? Do you need help? Sorry I almost hit you,โ Satoru crouched down on the side of the road. Mentally, he started to go over every bit of first aid he knew just in case this person thudded against his car and he didnโt realize it, but upon looking at the frightened face, a face he was all too familiar with from missing posters, social media profiles, and the binder in the back seat of his car, Satoruโs mind went blank.
โOh my god,โ he whispered. โItโs you.โ
โPl-please . . .โ you looked up at him, eyes glistening with hope and distrust as a cough escaped your throat.
Satoru placed a hand on your shoulder. โMy nameโs Detective Gojo. Weโve been looking for you. What happened? Where have you been? Who did this to you?โ
His questions were met with silence and a gentle shake of your head.
โYou donโt know?โ Satoru spoke gently, tilting his head down and to the side a bit to get a better look at your battered face. โDid the person let you go?โ
โI. . . ran . . . away. H-Heโs been . . . gone.โ More coughing. โWater, please?โ
โIโll get you some water. Iโm gonna take you to the hospital immediately. Youโre safe now, I promise.โ
Satoru opened the passenger side door.
He gently scooped you up bridal style. You were a few pounds lighter than the accurate weight description Ryomen gave the police made you out to be, and that confirmed to Satoru that one of the things your kidnapper did to you was deprive you of food.
Starved her, he thought.
Within his grip, despite how gentle it was, you flinched, a gasp of pain escaping between your split lip. โThat hurts? Iโm sorry,โ he said softly. Beat her too.
He placed you in the car seat. Your head whipped around wildly as you saw him vanish behind his car and pop open his trunk, but luckily, he didnโt return with rope or handcuffs, but with a blanket he often wrapped around victims he was lucky enough to find alive.
โHereโs a blanket,โ he said, draping it across your shaking body.
He was kind enough to turn on the heater once he made it into the driverโs seat as well.
โI have to stop for gas. Itโll only take a second,โ he said, reaching over to tug your blanket up a bit higher. Even though I gotta stop at a gas station, sheโll still get help quicker if I drive her versus waiting for an ambulance. Those guys are always slacking off.
Satoru gave you one final look before he started to drive. The look was one of pure disbelief. To find you so randomly, alive and somewhat well . . . and while you didnโt know who might have done this to you, Satoru couldnโt help but recognize that, as he drove out to the main road, you seemed to have emerged from somewhere within Kentoโs neighborhood.
โ
The gas station was rather isolated. There was nothing except bright light against the darkness of the night, the little store with a gum-popping cashier sitting behind a counter with a look of pure boredom upon their face, and unused pumps that hadnโt felt the hand of a customer in need of gas in hours. That wasnโt unusual, though, as Ryomen Sukuna had many citizens terrified of leaving their homes due to his latest rampage throughout the town in response to his wife going missing.
Satoru rolled his car in front of one of them, and when he came to a stop, he noticed your body tense up as your breath hitched.
โItโs okay, Iโm going to be right there. Since Iโm here, Iโll go ahead and buy you some water now. How about a couple of snacks to go with it?โ Satoru pointed forward. โYouโll be able to see me through the windows, and Iโll be able to see you. Iโll keep the doors locked and everything. Itโll only take a second.โ
You looked at him with frightened eyes.
โItโs alright. We can forget about the snacks, okay? Iโll just pump gas. Thereโll be water at the-โ
โNo, I want them,โ you coughed. โCan you call my . . .โ
Your coughing interrupted you yet again.
You were sick. Perhaps kept somewhere damp, unclean, and clearly without proper clothing, as your feet and legs were bare. No shoes. No socks. No pants.
โYou want me to call your husband?โ Satoru finished your question for you.
You nodded.
There it was again. That feeling, creeping up within him.
โI canโt. Iโm sorry. I have to confirm that he wasnโt the one who did this to you.โ
You spoke with a tone that, perhaps, would have been a shout if your voice wasnโt so frail from illness and dehydration. โHe didnโt. Wasnโt h-his voice. And the man. . . he talked about Ryomen. It wasnโt him. His hands . . .โ
You looked down at your body, and Satoru filled in the blanks.
โHis hands felt different?โ
You nodded.
Satoru ran his eyes across the bruises that decorated your skin like ink upon a tattoo addict. Yet another wave of conflicting emotions washed over him as he gazed at what little of your natural skin tone he could still see.
Well, of course his hands would feel different, Satoru thought, as he figured that Ryomen Sukunaโs hands would feel like a strangerโs to you now, as before, you had only ever known his touch to be soft, caring, and loving. How would you recognize how the strike of his palm would feel if, before, you had only known gentle strokes from his fingertips?
But then, another thought presented itself to Satoru: considering how sheโs covered in bruises, thereโs no way she wouldnโt be able to recognize the hand that hit her this many times. Sheโd be able to recognize it even if it belonged to a stranger she shook hands with only once.
Suddenly, though expectedly, you started to cry, though you wiped at your tears and tried to muffle your own noises, as if embarrassed.
โYou can cry, itโs okay,โ Satoru said softly.
He didnโt mean to.
He wasnโt thinking.
He was being unprofessional.
But Satoru reached over, thumb landing on your scratched cheek, and he wiped away one of the tears, letting his thumb linger against your skin for a bit before pulling away. โIโll be right back.โ
As Satoru made his way through the shop as quickly as he could, grabbing a bag of chips he knew you were a fan of based on one of your Instagram highlights from eight weeks ago, his mind raced with a variety of different thoughts.
Heโd let you talk to Ryomen. He had no reason not to anymore. After all, Kento was the main suspect now, and even more so after finding you in such close proximity to his house.
He tried to shake away the twisted feeling threatening to overwhelm him again at the idea of reuniting you with your husband.
Satoru left the store and started to pump gas, pulling out his phone to give his partner an update. Right now, he needed Suguru to keep an eye on Kento, to prevent him from leaving the building.
โI found her,โ Satoru said once the other man answered. โI was leaving Kentoโs house, saw her on the street. Isnโt that crazy? She escaped. She said whoever did this to her had been gone for a while, and Kentoโs been with us pretty much all day. That, his little scrapbook, and the fact that she was near his house just . . . itโs sick, Suguru. She looks awful . . . No, you donโt gotta call an ambulance. Iโm at the gas station not too far from the hospital, so Iโm just gonna take her there myself. Well, you know the routine. Tell everyone who needs to know that I found her, but donโt let Kento know somethingโs up until I get there, and donโt let him leave the building. We need more evidence on this guy. Iโm thinking weโll get her to look at a map and see if she can circle the general direction she ran in, or lead us and buncha other cops there herself once she feels better. Iโm still thinking on it, I donโt know. But Iโll see you soon.โ
The blanket was wrapped around you snuggly, and there was a gentle crunching noise and the hum of satisfaction as you ate the snacks Satoru bought you. Not only did the warmth created by the blanket and heater make you stop trembling, but Satoru noticed your eyes starting to grow heavy.
The sight of it warmed his heart, knowing you felt safe enough with him to close your eyes and nearly drift off to sleep with a belly full of a snack so divine, it brought more tears to your eyes.
A little sigh of relief escaped you. Safe.
Satoru drove for around three minutes before he remembered your request to talk to Sukuna, one you were feeling much too shy to bring up again.
โIโm sorry about your car.โ
โHuh?โ He pinched his eyebrows in confusion.
โThe seats. I got them dirty. Iโm sorry.โ
Satoru gulped thickly. โWell, I hope dirty seats will be our biggest worry, our greatest problem now, yeah?โ He smiled for a moment, then continued, โIโm gonna call Ryomen for you.โ
You visibly perked up, eyes filling with tears yet again at the thought of hearing his voice. Oh, did you miss him.
But, just before Satoru could reach into his pocket, headlights came into view.
He slammed on the brakes. His body jerked forward, and he slung his arm protectively across your chest.
โWhat the hell?โ He frowned, eyeing the front of the vehicle that was clearly on the wrong side of the road.
There was nothing he could see amidst the darkness. Nothing except the bright headlights shining through his windshield. Even the trees and the starry night sky were a mystery.
โWhatโs going on?โ You asked with great worry.
โItโs okay. Stay right here.โ Satoru started to unbuckle his seatbelt.
โNo, donโt leave, please, donโt leave,โ you grabbed his arm.
Satoru placed his hand over yours, stroking your skin, which was finally starting to warm up. โItโll be alright. Iโm sure itโs just some drunk idiot. Just stay right here.โ
He approached the car with caution. His hand touched the gun strapped to his waist as he made his way to the driverโs side, but when the driver opened the car door and he saw a familiar, trustworthy face, he released a breath of relief, then frowned in utter confusion, taking his hand off his gun.
โSuguru? What the hell? You scared the hell outta me. What are you doing here? Why are you driving on this side of the road?โ
He didnโt answer. He only smiled at him.
It was a smile Satoru once adored, but right now, it frightened him to his core when he saw that Suguruโs grin was paired with a handgun he aimed right at his stomach.
His grin widened enough to make the corners of his mouth ache, his eyes closing. โSeeing you take your hand off of your gun when you realized it was me was really touching, Satoru, and yet, a very big mistake.โ Suguru waited for Satoru to respond, but the white-haired man said nothing. He only stared at him.
โYou donโt seem shocked, just disappointed,โ Suguru said.
โWhy?โ Satoruโs question came out softer than he intended. Bitter.
โIโm not in the mood to chat with you about it. This isnโt a busy road, but someone could drive by at any moment and ruin our fun. My womanโs in the car, correct?โ
My, my, my. That poisonous, possessive word made Satoru feel sicker than he already felt. As if this sudden, surprising betrayal didnโt have him already trying to hold back the stale croissant he forced down hours earlier.
โMake one wrong move, and Iโll gladly shoot you and subject his wife to a suffering worse than death.โ
Suguru got out of his car and shut the door, gesturing his gun at Satoru. โWalk.โ
He forced him to walk in front of him and approach the passenger side of his own car, the side where you sat, snuggled up, your face changing into one of mild worry but overall relaxation into one of true terror as Satoru and another man with a gun came into view.
Satoru tried not to let his words reflect the true, utter fear he felt within his core, and he spoke calmly.
โLeave her alone, Iโm begging you. You donโt gotta do this. Weโre friends, right? You know I donโt give a shit about the law, Iโll keep your secret if you just let her go now, and she will too. And you and me? We can keep working side by side, everything can go back to the way it was-โ
โDo you ever stop talking?โ Suguru said with great annoyance, but not once did he stop smiling. โOpen the car door.โ
โNo.โ
Satoru felt the cold end of his gun press against his back.
Closing his eyes for a moment with great disbelief at what the fuck was happening to him, at what the hell he was having to do, Satoru slowly opened the door.
You started to tremble, legs moving as if you wanted to scramble away, but while your body wanted you to run, run, run, your mind knew youโd end up with a bullet in your head if you did so.
But, as tears rolled down your cheeks and the recent memories of everything you had been forced to endure over the last couple of days replayed in your mind, you figured โ you knew โ that death was, perhaps, a better fate.
โSheโs a gorgeous one, isnโt she?โ Suguru whispered, mesmerized by your beauty even in your current state. He suddenly reached around and grabbed Satoruโs gun, and handed it to him. โNow, Satoru, if you would be so kind as to shoot her in the leg for me.โ
Satoruโs eyes widened. His knees grew weak. โWhat? What the hell?โ
You began to cry harder. It was a mix of pleas and sobs.
โWell, she needs a punishment for running away,โ Suguru stated casually, as if it were logic as simple as understanding that Tuesday followed Monday. โDo it.โ
โYouโre going to kill me anyway. Thereโs no way you plan on letting me go after learning youโre behind all this.โ
โThere is. Now do it. Unless you want me to kill her here and now.โ
Satoruโs jaw clenched. He felt his cheek become wet with his own tears at the sound of your cries. His hands started to tremble, but they gripped the gun.
โIโm sorry,โ Satoru whispered, aiming the gun at your leg. โIโm so sorry. Donโt look, okay? Donโt-โ
โDo it!โ
The sound of the firing bullet rang loud and clear, but it was your screams and cries that were deafening. The sight of your blood would forever haunt Satoru every single time heโd blink. That, he knew. His entire body was frozen, so much so that he didnโt realize Suguru had snatched the gun out of his hand before it could be used against him.
โThank you, Satoru, youโre an amazing friend. Put her in the trunk of my car.โ
Satoru carried you bridal-style yet again for the second time tonight.
He placed you in the back of Suguruโs car. Your bloody hand gripped his shirt, and though you were in too much pain to speak, he knew what you were trying to say: donโt leave me. Please, save me.
But he did nothing.
Nothing except give you back to your kidnapper.
When all was said and done, Suguru stepped into Satoruโs line of sight.
He was still smiling.
โYouโre crying? Hm,โ Suguru tilted his head a bit.
โWhy are you doing this?โ Satoruโs voice was hoarse.
โI already told you I donโt want to talk about it-โ
โI donโt really give a damn what you want. Tell me why. I gotta know why. I gotta know how and why the hell my friend could turn out to be such a-a sick piece of shit.โ
Suguru nodded in the direction of Satoruโs car. โGo back to work, Satoru.โ
โYou canโt be fucking serious. Ryomenโs tearing this town apart. It doesnโt matter what happens to me now. Heโll find her.โ Satoru trembled. โDo you think Iโm just gonna let you get away with this?โ
Suguru opened the car door of his own vehicle, and he said, โYes.โ
As he started to drive away with you, Suguru never stopped smiling, not once.
It felt, in a lot of ways, as if Satoru Gojo left his heart, mind, and soul behind on that isolated road, because as he drove back to work, it felt as if it wasnโt a conscious decision he was making. His body moved on its own, it seemed, and he gripped the steering wheel with hands soaked in your blood, unblinking, and drove. Stopped at a few red lights, made a couple of turns, and drove, like a stringed puppet in Suguruโs show.
He tried to follow Suguru in his car at first.
He tried to run him off the road.
But Suguruโs car came to a sudden stop, red brake lights blaring through Satoruโs windshield.
Satoru watched the other vehicle in front of him for a split second, not long enough for him to think like a detective and make a decision that could save you, because an ear-piercing scream broke through the silent night.
It was you. Your scream was loud enough for him to hear it in his car, for him to hear it in his dreams for the rest of his life, for him to forever wonder what Suguru did to you in that moment to cause it, and yet, for him to be grateful that he didnโt know.
The scream was a clear message. Follow us, and Iโll kill her.
And that was how Satoru found himself dragging his feet through his workplace instead of ramming the front of his car through Suguruโs.
When he walked through the open office space, people didnโt greet him with sympathetic sorrow nor praise as they did with Detective Nanami. Instead, they greeted him with glares, daggers in their eyes that he didnโt have the mental capacity to question until his boss stepped in front of him, blocking his path.
โSatoru, we need to talk.โ
Sheโs dead already somehow, Satoru thought. He killed her, sheโs dead, he showed everyone, everyone blames me for not finding her in time, little do they know I did find her. I found her and I lost her and now sheโs fucking dead and itโs my fault. Iโm gonna get fired, no, worse, Sukunaโs gonna kill me, but do I really give a shit? That sweet womanโs dead and I let it happen. I gave her back to her fucking torturer, her kidnapper. Itโs my fault, itโs my fault, itโs-
โSatoru, stop mumbling,โ Masamichi Yaga gave him a stern, depressed look โ there was something else there too, something that made his heart want to plummet into his stomach, but he didnโt know what it was โ and only then did Satoru realize that his thoughts were being vocalized.
Not that he gave a shit.
โWhatโs the matter?โ Satoru questioned. Never before had his voice sounded so weak.
His boss opened his mouth to speak, started to say, Sukuna, when someone suddenly shouted, โWhat the fuck?โ
The entire office filled with detectives turned their heads to the source of the sound, which belonged to Shoko. The woman was standing. She was staring up at the big screen at the front of the office. It would often display details of a case, or when not in true use, the news.
That is what graced the big screen now.
Satoru moved past his boss and fellow coworkers who all walked towards it, as if summoned.
The live news station started to play what seemed to be a video. A video filmed by Suguru.
โGood evening, I am Detective Geto.โ He stared into the camera he held in front of his face with teary eyes. โI work alongside Detective Gojo, who many of you will know to be the lead investigator in the case surrounding Mrs. Sukuna, a sweet, beautiful woman who has been missing. Iโm putting myself and my job in jeopardy by leaking this information to the public, but Satoru Gojo is a powerful man who is more than capable of going above the law to cover his own tracks, and tonight, I witnessed something horrible, and I wanted to give this evidence to the general public first, so law enforcement has no choice but to give Mrs. Sukuna the justice she deserves.โ
What appeared next was a photo of Satoru standing outside of his car, you in his passenger seat, frightened eyes seemingly gazing at him, because the man behind him, the one you were actually staring at, was cropped out.
The next photo was of him aiming a gun at your leg.
Shooting you.
Scooping up your body.
Every photo was seemingly taken from a distance, from a hidden camera propped up on the side of Suguruโs car, and he cropped himself out of every single one.
Suguruโs face returned to the screen, but the faces of his viewers who crowded the office didnโt know, because they had all turned their bodies to stare at Satoru.
โTonight, Satoru made me watch him do this to an innocent woman. I took those photos without his knowledge, and I tried to stop him. I did everything I could, but he got away with her. I promise you all that I will do everything I can to find Mrs. Sukuna, if sheโs still alive. In the meantime, please, be aware of Detective Satoru Gojo. He is a sick man.โ
Satoru couldn't feel anything, not even his own heart beating inside his chest, though it was pounding so rapidly, he was certain it would burst.
โSatoru,โ his boss called out softly.
Satoru took a step back.
His boss took a step forward.
โSatoru, why donโt you sit down? Letโs talk about this.โ
Oh, he knew that voice.
He used it plenty of times.
It was the voice he used on Ryomen earlier today, when the man was about to kill Kento.
Satoru shook his head, though he did it as a response to the insane fucking situation that he couldnโt wrap his mind around and not necessarily as a way of saying no to the request for him to sit down, but his boss still approached him cautiously.
โItโs okay, Satoru, I just need you to have a seat.โ
He took another step backwards.
No oneโs going to believe me, Satoru thought. No one.
โSatoru,โ his boss, who stared at him with eyes of pure disgust, tried yet again.
He dashed out of the exit doors then, not that he assumed heโd make it very far. Soon, heโd feel the unpleasant sting of a taser against his back, or one of his coworkers tackle him to the ground, but no part of him expected his own footsteps to come to a halt all on their own.
And that was because, right below the steps outside of the exit doors, Satoruโs eyes were met with the yellow crime tape he was in too much of a daze to notice when he first arrived.
Oh, but he noticed it now.
It squared off a portion of the concrete sidewalk outside of the building. Forensic workers crouched and moved around something, and their movements told Satoru that he was staring right at a dead body.
He didnโt know who it was until one of them moved their right leg and that familiar blonde hair came into his line of sight.
Satoruโs wide eyes widened even more.
This is what Yaga was trying to tell me, Satoru thought. Sukuna killed . . .
He couldnโt even think the name of the man whose face, every feature familiar except for the bullet-sized hole in the center of his forehead, came into clear view, eyes wide open though they no longer shone with life.
Satoru didnโt mean to, but he laughed. He laughed because it was too fucking much.
He laughed because Ryomen Sukuna killed Kento Nanami, whom he thought kidnapped his wife.
He laughed because Ryomen Sukuna killed Kento Nanami, when Suguru Geto was the one who kidnapped his wife.
He laughed because Ryomen Sukuna killed Kento Nanami, and he knew heโd be the next innocent man to die, because now, Ryomen Sukuna would think he was the one who kidnapped his wife.
His laughter only stopped when the stinging, searing pain of being tased shot through every limb of his body, making him fall to the ground, making his phone fly out of his pocket, making him all too aware of the recent text message that lit up his screen โ a text message from Ryomen Sukuna that read: YOUโRE FUCKING DEAD.
Can you right Daiki Aomine smut ?? Like he just had a big game and he won and the reader decides to โ reward โ him !! Or maybe like twitter links? It whatever you decide you can do either or both or none of that !! Have a nice day ๐๐โ๏ธ
It was way past Midorimaโs working hours. The moon gleamed high in the night sky, shielding both of you from the judgment of the sun. The situation itself was almost funny to Midorima. Twelve yearsโthough proceeded faster for a brain like Midorimaโsโof study, medical school, residency, all compressed to nothing, just for you to reduce him to a mere therapist.ย
He recognised it at the first meeting. An initial fifteen minutes to focus on your sleeping. Then suddenly, you started speaking of how your bed felt empty at night, and even with the presence of your husband, it turned suffocating. He should have stopped you, asked another question to shush you, or simply told you that you were going far above his pay. He has a license to be a psychologist, not your damn therapist.ย
But he didnโt. He hadnโt known why he let you go on. And when you finally stumbled on your words, embarrassed, you poured your heart out to him like this, telling him things you hadnโt admitted to your closest friends; he also didnโt encourage you to go on. Simply moved on with the rest of his questions. In the end, you left with sleeping pills and a confused feeling pushed into the back of your head.
He never truly corrected; therefore, you never stopped.ย
To you, he felt cold but listening. He sat perfectly still, green eyes fixated on the way your lips moved through his medicated glasses. He never nodded, didnโt hum encouragement like a therapist might. He simply let you fill the silence. But you knew he was listening. Never reacted, but he always listened.
To a woman like you, who craved to be heard at least just once, it was enough to start mistaking the silence for care, enough to start developing feelings for him.ย
You did confess to him. It was clumsy and embarrassing. Your throat burned, body itched to jump out the window the moment the words left your mouth. Midorima didnโt move. His pen hovered just above the page, paused. In shock? Disgust? You couldnโt tell. You could never tell what he was thinking. When his eyes lifted to you, they didnโt soften.
โYour emotions,โ he started, โare a product of transference. It is a predictable phenomenon. Patients often project attachment onto their psychiatrist.โ
โNo, itโs not like that.โ You sounded desperate. The fear of rejection tremors your voice.
โYou have voiced it. And I have heard you.โ He didnโt dismiss your feelings, nor did he address them either. Only acknowledged and moved on.ย
Sessions continued, he stayed the same, and your feelings remained in the back of your chest.
So for it to have festered to this point, for you to come to him now, way past his working hours, not having an appointment, tears rolling down your cheeks, every sentence interrupted by a hiccup, it's comedy to him. Because it was all so perfect.
He watches you through his lenses, youโre babbling, words barely coherent. He could only make out a few words: โhurtโ, โno one elseโ, and โdickwardโ. He knew who this was about; it was an easy guess: your husband.ย
You were too naive for this world. That was Midorimaโs first conclusion, and one he returned to constantly. Too trusting of people so easily in all your stories, just to get hurt time and time againโbut never once losing that kindness. You had to be stupid.
Midorima hated that your husband knew that. That he knew of your consistent willingness to forgive and had a ball with it, treated you as disposable.
He told himself the fury was logical. It was his duty to care for your mind. It explained why the thought of another manโs hands on you irked him so much. But with that, he should only want to repair what had been broken. Instead, he wanted to ensure you would never again need to repair at all.
He wanted you for himself. And the situation was all so perfect.
Your husband, or the โdickwardโ as you often called him, was a cheating bastard who would fuck a girl on your marital bed. Then, buy you plastic flowers, pre-written apology cards, and fake promises of change. And you accepted it every fucking time.
He tried and tried to understand why. Every time he stared at you stiffly while you waffled about another cheating incident, his mind ran. Why the hell was this a recurring issue? Why couldnโt you leave his ass?
It couldnโt be money. The bastard barely had any of it. Constantly borrowing from you and blowing it all on in a casino like the rest of his salary.
Comfort? No. Your relationship was known to smack you in the face each time you began to settle down, leaving you in a constant state of paranoia, even you can't put up with. Guilt? Maybe. He'd feel sorry for his ass too.
Then it clicked. The love bombing.
That was the leash he kept pulling for you to crawl back to him. Your constant need for reassurance made you overlook his past ways because in the endโ heโd always show he โlovedโ you. Though it may be through cheap flowers and commercial store check-out postcards.
Midorima knew that no matter how many times you complain, you would always go back. But tonight, it was different.
The seemingly perfect loop finally had a gap in it. This cheating story wasnโt like the rest. You didnโt just suspect and find the womanโs underwear under the bed. Tonight, not only did you find out the mysterious girl wasnโt just a random from the side of the road, but your friend. A friend whoโd always comfort you when you tell her about your cheat epidemic. But you also heard how he talked about you. How they talked about you.
Like a fucking idiot. โJust throw her some flowers and kisses, and sheโd be fine,โ your friend giggles as your husband places her on top of him, fingers pushing stray hairs out of her forehead as he does with yours.
And even with that, there was still a slight chance you may have gone back if he apologised enough. But when he confessed, he never did truly love you. Even you couldnโt keep seeking reassurance from a false hope.
You stumbled in crying, and he didnโt even bat an eye, and as you packed your things, he said cockily to your friend; That he would get you back by tomorrow morning.
Now even for you. That was a big-fuck up on your husbandโs part. He got too cocky and didnโt realise that wanting to be loved doesnโt make you a complete idiot.ย
The stars aligned in Midorima's favor tonight. He didnโt even need to do anything. Just like that, youโve fallen into his arms.
Donโt get him wrong. Midorima isnโt just a creep looking for a damsel, noโ heโs in love with a damsel. Even if it took him too long to realise. He fell for your personality.
For how your good heart, though broken multiple times, you never let it rot. How you brought life to his mundane, how you smiled after the tears had all come out.
But he never acted on it. He never knew how. Midorima does not blur business with pleasure, not like the tight short skirts you had a habit of wearing helped. So he promised himself that if he goes in, he would not let you go back.
You hadnโt even finished your rumbling before Midorima, for the first time, reacted to you. โHe doesnโt deserve you,โ he said.ย
It made you look at him, truly see him. Midorima usually stayed quiet during these conversations, letting you go on. But tonight felt different. Perhaps it was because it was after hours, but his hair was perfectly tousled, falling in different directions. The top two buttons of his shirt were undone, and his tie hung loose and low around his neck.
He leaned against his desk, behind the chair he usually sits on. โWhat?โ You asked. It came out as a breath, you thought you misheard something, wanting him to repeat, and he does.
โI said he doesnโt deserve you.โ You froze. This was the first time you received any praise from Midorima, other than a hum of approval when you took your medication according to the prescription.
He continued, walking closer. โLook at you, you would jump off a cliff and still trust him to risk his life to try and save you. But he wouldnโt, even if it cost him nothing.โย
โThat'sโฆnot true.โ You averted your gaze, backing up unconsciously each time he took a step. Thereโs always been a barrier of space between you two; you've never gotten too close to one another.ย
Midorima realised he needed to break the barrier of proximity down before anything. He steps back two feet and lets himself fall into his armchair. Instead of sitting up straight like he usually does, he slouches, pinching his nose with his fingers and sighing at your words while manspreading.
โHow can you still defend him?โ He sighed, said it low, but he made sure you heard. Before you could retort, he looked directly at you, increasing the gap in his man's spread to make space for you.
โCome closer.โ He husks. You hesitate, unsure what was stopping you, but it felt wrong, like breaking a boundary between you two. But when his index twitched, urging you to come closer, your legs moved on their own.ย
You stood stiffly between his legs, practically inhaling his cologne more than oxygen, with the way it felt suffocating. He doesnโt touch you. But slightly shuts his legs, keeping them an inch from touching your skin.
โWhy are you here?โ He asked, and you responded too fast and too defensively.
โI just need advice on what toโโ
โWrong.โ He interrupted but said nothing else. Waiting for you to correct yourself.
โI wanted to talk to someone about this.โ You tried again
โClose, almost there.โ For the third time, you actually paused, tried to swallow your pride, and spokeย
โI wanted someone who would listen. Iโฆ I needed you.โ You looked away. It was going to be like how it always was. Heโd reply coldly. The word transference thrown at your face, but this time, it wasnโt like that.
Thatโs when his fingers moved, gently, wiping a late tear away. You stiffened, but you made no effort to push it away. After wiping his hand, he rested it on your cheek. Thumb rubbing your soft skin.
โI wonder, what did he do to gain your trust. That every time, you find yourself going back to him.โ
โThatโs not true. This time Iโm going to break up with him.โ
"You said that last week, and three weeks ago as well. Should I just take your word for it again? He never valued you; if he did, you wouldn't come here every other week begging me to reassure you. You wouldnโt melt under my touch simply because Iโm the only one who listens. The first person you go to after youโve been wronged wouldnโt be your psychiatrist." His voice felt accusing, and you couldnโt help but defend yourself.
โMidorimaโโ You referred to him by his last name, aware that this was the name you were supposed to use, though you rarely did. It was an attempt to create a barrier between the two of you, one he broke down quickly.
โDonโt. Call me what you always call me.โ
โShintaro.โ He hums in approval, letting you speak. โIโฆ I donโt know why Iโm saying this,โ you admitted. โItโs stupid. Youโre my doctorโthis shouldnโt even be happening.โ
โWhat are you so afraid of?โ He questioned gently. He had always put a barrier between the two of you; now he just decides to break down the walls and cross the borders? It didnโt make sense, it was too rushedโฆ but oh, how it was longed for.
How many times have you daydreamed of him doing something like this? So now that he has, why were you backing away?
โLet me show you what you truly deserve.โ He insisted, he leaned in closer, arms reaching out to you. You caught them by your fingertips.
โIโm not sureโฆโ You hesitated. Midorima could smell the alcohol in your breath. You had been drinking before coming here, despite telling him you were going sober.
โYouโve been drinking?โ
โThatโs not the topic of discussion. We shouldnโt want this.โ
โBut yet we do.โ Before you could make out another excuse, Midorima slightly shook your grip off, reaching for your dress, lifting slightly. You gasped as you felt his cold fingers make contact with the increasing heat between your inner thigh.
At this point, he had pulled you completely onto his lap, his fingers sliding up and down the area, going higher every time, his lips nuzzling into your neck. You didn't pull away, nor did you lean into it.
Though still weary, your concerns were silenced by your own moans, choked on the dirty need each time his finger would go closer to your sex.
โRelax, for me.โ He whispered into your ear. Despite the cool breeze coming from the air conditioner, the roomโs heat was getting to you. Your brain was fogging, shutting down with the help of the alcohol that had finally entered your bloodstream.
You stopped using your head and started chasing the only strong emotion you could feel, need.
Midorima flipped up your dress, revealing your bare sex. It was bold of you. He wonders if you had been doing this often, hoping one day heโd flip up your skirt and see your desire.
As he chuckled into your ear and more arousal dripped down your thigh, down onto his fingers.ย โSee how much you're dripping for me.โ His monotone voice was so arousing in your ear, and as if to tease you, he pushed two fingers inside you, coating them with your arousal before taking them out as fast as they entered.
They came out glazed with your wetness. Revealing to you how much you wanted this. โHm? Look,โ He brings his two fingers to your lips. โTaste yourself.
When you hesitated, his other hand slid up your thigh, thumb pressing lightly into the sensitive skin there.
โOpen,โ he repeated, thumb rubbing circles against your clit. A sharp gasp escaped you at the contact. He didn't waste time pushing his fingers between the gap of your lips.
ย At first, you're shocked at the sudden intrusion, only brushing your tongue against it as if to push it out, but your tongue starts swirling around his fingers, desperately tasting his fingers. โGood girl,โ He praises, pulling his fingers away despite you chasing them till theyโre out of reach.
He shifted his gaze back down, slipping his fingers back into your heat while his other hand stimulates your clit. The combination was too much to bear, and your head instinctively fell back, exposing your neck as a soft moan escaped you. He pressed into your mouth, locking his lips with yours. Every time his mouth sucked lightly at the tip of your tongue, his fingers pushed deeper inside you,
Pulling you closer and closer to the edge, his fingers never slowed, digging deeper, curling to reach that spot. Every stroke felt like he was sending more and more electricity to the tip of your toes.
His mouth found yours again, swallowing your breath in a slow, consuming kiss that left you trembling against him.
You could feel it coming."Shintarลโ"
โI know,โ he murmured through the kiss.
You clutch his wrists but donโt dare pull on them. โI canโtโ too muchโโ
But he doesnโt stop. If anything, his movements quicken, chasing the orgasm out of you.
The pressure inside you coiled tighter until electricity spasmed through your thighs. You shook uncontrollably in his grip.ย
Your orgasm ripped through you so hard you nearly folded over him, crying out against his shoulder. Your whole body tightened and arched. His fingers kept moving, stroking every last tremor from your body.
You had never come like that. Not once in your marriage.Not once in your life.
Midorima exhaled slowly as he felt your pulse around his fingers. He carried you to the couch, seating you on the cushion. You thought you were done, that he was simply letting you rest, until you felt a warm breath on your already sensitive sex. His hands moved to spread your legs, and his head dipped between your legs.
โShinataroโ what are you doing?โ You asked through hazy eyes. He removed his glasses, gently laying them on the coffee table behind him.
He turned back, staring at you through half-squinted eyes. โShowing you what you deserve.โ That was all he said before he descended and made you scream till the moonโs peak.
You were floating in the hazy space between consciousness and a post-cloud state, calm. You found yourself in Midorimaโs bed, curled into his chest. His eyes shut peacefully. You were half awake, half awake, but your mind was still roaming.
Fragmented memories of Midorima carrying you into his car while you slipped in and out of consciousness during the whole drive, him pulling you into the elevator to his well-endowed apartment, where he showered you and pulled you to bed in bed robes perfectly your size, all came back to you.
And now, your legs tangled loosely with his. You couldnโt help wondering:
Did you really understand the chapter you were about to open with him?
You feel a bit confused, pulses of shame slowly gripping you, but truly? You felt no regret.
