Yandere Alpha Clark x Omega Reader x Yandere Alpha Bruce
@angelamajiki in the spirit of your virginity fic, I'm unleashing this from the drafts
Warnings: yandere, nsfw, noncon/dubcon, fauxcest, a/b/o, first time, shame, manipulation
It seems the biggest step your "fathers" are willing to force is your abduction. Since then, they've been willing to make concessions for your comfort.
You're too scared to let them knot you. You would die unmated before giving in to them so fully. It wasn't a choice without consequences; the constant presence of two virile alphas was having mortifying effects on you. You could endure the longer, more frequent heats that came with their proximity. They indulge you, taking care of you with their fingers and tounges. They work through their ruts together. They assure you that you're their girl, and they'll never do anything to hurt you. You could get by like this, if this was the worst of it.
You failed to account for the detox period. You hadn't been given suppressants since your abduction, but your last doses would take time to fully leave your system. A week ago, you hadn't even known to be grateful to those trace chemicals. Part of you wished you could apologize to them now. Your body is screaming for an alpha. They find you crying on the bed, mattress half-soaked beneath you. You had long-abandoned the sense that would keep you out of their dirty laundry. Far past the point of embarrassment, you hardly look up from the gym shirt you are huffing, and only grind harder on your pillow.
Bruce is immediately by your side. His cool hands press your blazing forehead, and you whimper.
"Sweetheart," he tuts, "Why didn't you call for us?"
His hands slide down, coming to rest on your hips. Hushing your desperate whines, he slows you to a gentle rock. You want to snap at him, but are distracted by Clark's hands on yours. It appears he took your distraction as an opportunity to undress. He's loosening your grip on the shirt, he's taking it, and the growl crawls up your throat before you can think better of it. Your hips are forced to stop. Bruce closes his teeth around your earlobe it a hum of disapproval. Cowed, you relinquish the shirt.
"I thought you'd be flattered. It is your shirt."
"I can't be flattered that much. She knows how to behave."
Clark laughs in disbelief. Then, he reclines, patting your thigh.
"Come on, pretty girl. Up with you."
Bruce lets you go with a squeeze. Abandoning your soiled pillow, you clamber up to Pa's Clark's face. He guides you over him, and you just resist resuming your ride on his jaw. His fingers are too slow when they run between your lips. Cool air blows across your folds, and you almost paint his face right then. Almost.
"Please," You're actually crying now. "I need it. I'll die. I'm going to die here."
That gets a chuckle out of Bruce. Mercifully, Clark wastes no time coming to your rescue. You're promptly seated. His hot tongue draws from your clit to your entrance, setting a steady rhythm. Your desperation is not quelled by the muscle's shallow dips into your hole. This won't be enough; you know it.
Your attention shifts to Bruce, and it seems he was waiting for it. He slowly undresses, preening under your gaze. The sight of his half-hard cock makes your mouth water.
Clark's own member stands eager before you. It looks warm, practically glowing. It's thick, and pink, and god, you can smell it. You'd put it in your mouth if you could reach. You settle to take it in your hand. The skin is soft and warm, and you feel a little twitch beneath your palm. You're so transfixed by the bead of precum rolling over your fingers, you don't notice the alpha gasp into your folds.
Bruce reaches over and guides your hand away. Tears threaten to return as you look to him for explanation. He was taking this, too? They already took your shirt. It wasn't fair.
"You aren't ready yet, remember love?"
Suddenly, it's all too much. You're sobbing, begging for more than they're giving you but you can't put it to words. Dad wraps around you, guiding you to sit on Pa's chest. You lean into his warmth, savoring the smell of his skin. It's reassuring. Bruce looks to Clark, now unoccupied. There's an apprehension shared between them, neither willing to move first. All the while, you're still pleading into the junction of Bruce's shoulder. He tries to rub your back, but it only agitates you further. Tearfully, you bite down.
Now Clark never considered himself to be the kind of man moved by a tantrum, but he wasn't heartless. They hadn't taken care of you properly, and you were suffering for it. He watches Bruce gently detatch you. The sight of your teary face, cradled in your dad's hands, will be the end of him.
"Shhh. You don't have to say it, just take what you need." He's unsure if his words are getting through to you.
He's pretty taken aback when you practically leap onto his dick. Bruce puts a hand to your hip.
"Slow down. Don't hurt yourself."
Unhindered, you spin to face them. You line Pa up with your hungry cunt and sit. He goes in smooth, with a mouth-watering pressure. You moan in pure relief. You're going to be okay. You just need a little more. Gathering the strength in your legs, you begin to move. Clark gasps, and Bruce's eyebrows shoot up his forehead. They had fully intended to open you up with their fingers first. Still, they let you bounce to your heart's content, only petting your hair and kissing your hands. God help you, it's not enough.
You practically knock the wind out of Clark with how suddenly you sink over his knot. It hardly even stings. The stretch is easily overarched by the most intense orgasm of your life. You nearly black out. Every muscle, plenty you'd never known you had, tenses and quivers. A guttural cry pours out of your mouth.
When you come to, Bruce's arms are holding you steady through the aftershocks. You gradually regain a hold of yourself. You feel so full, and warm. Clark's knot keeps him snugly pressed into your sweet spot. Your pussy continues to milk him, and the animal fading from your mind wants to make him give you more. Bruce takes a hand off you to rest it on Clark's flushed, heaving chest. You feel Bruce smiling against your temple. You also feel his very hard member against your back. He kisses your forehead before shifting further to Clark. The Kryptonian seems nearly brain dead, giving only an airy grunt when Bruce cards through his hair.
The warm haze is really giving way. The thing you so lovingly conquered is starting to feel more like an intrusion. You've been knotted. You practically knotted yourself. The one thing they hadn't taken from you, and you threw it at them because you wanted to cum.
"Hold on. Is that how you treat your family?" He's smiling in spite of his scolding. "Your Pa just gave you something very special. What do you say?"
You want off, and a shower. The slick soaking your lower half feel worse every cooling second. You shift backwards on your knees to allow Clark up, his softening cock sliding out of you. Painfully empty Mercifully free, you begin to crawl further back. Bruce catches you.
That you were the only one who gave anything up here?
"Thank you, Pa."
Clark is practically glowing as he surges towards you. By the time you could yelp, you were already gently laid beneath him. He pushes back your sweaty hair. His teary eyes rove over your body.
"Oh baby, you did so good. You're so good for trusting us." His hands trace lower and lower. "Does it hurt? You can tell Pa where it hurts."
Bruce's hands come to rest on Clark's shoulders. He leans in, as if to whisper a secret, but speaks loud and clear.
"Dad will kiss it all better," he promises with a wolfish grin.
Clark moves to let him at you. As you get a full view of his manhood, a bolt of fear pierces your abdomen. It's not quite as big as Clark's but it looks... angry. They couldn't expect you to do that twice in one night. Your slick was starting to dry tacky on your thighs, and the relaxed openness between your hips was making way for a more familiar, anxious tightness. But in Bruce's eyes, there shines the very expectation.
"Br-Dad, please, I just took one and I'm sore-"
He shushes you again.
"I told you, I'll kiss it better." His grip is firm on your thigh: a warning. You freeze. Clark takes the opportunity to drag you up to the headboard with him. A growl escapes Bruce at the sudden theft. You're held to Clark's warm, rumbling chest, forced to face the unsatisfied apha. The alien rests his chin on your shoulder, getting right up to your ear. His purr drowns out your hammering heart.
Bruce's gaze softens at the sight of you both. He takes your stiff, quivering legs, and gently hooks them over Clark's. Clark's hands begin to press into you breasts, gently kneading and stroking. The next moment, Bruce is upon you. There is no escaping his mouth. True to his word, he kisses every part of your aching pussy he can reach. He uses his fingers for what what he can't. You shamefully acknowledge that the obscene squelching is much more your own renewed arousal than his saliva. You let every whine and whimper pass your lips. The light pinch on your nipple, the thorough massaging of your insides, the constant suckling and laving against your clit: it's too much. There's nowhere to even squirm but deeper into them.
The inevitable second orgasm comes. This one leaves you jittery. You know what's coming next.
"Just focus on how good it feels," Clark whispers.
In spite of yourself, you feel the tension in your gut uncoil a little. His breath is warm, and his deep purr soothes something in your bones.
Bruce takes your attention back with another kiss. He is slotted above you, one hand pushing you deeper into the kiss, and the other lining him up with your entrance. He begins to press in, and you sob.
"No, no, sweetheart," he tries to hush you as he thumbs over your clit. "This is good. You already love it."
Easy to say when you're not the one being bitched. He pushes deeper with a cracked groan, slowly bottoming out. He drags back out, feeling your walls squeeze in protest. You're granted a few shallow thrusts before he stops with just his tip resting in you. His thumb sits heavy on your clit. He's still smiling at you, but it's more mischievous than proud. It makes you nervous again.
"I don't know that I should just give you what you want. You haven't been very grateful for what you've gotten so far."
Before you can grovel, Clark scoffs, grabs a great handful of Bruce's ass and hilts him into you. You shriek in surprise. Bruce's hand leaves you to catch himself against the mattress.
"Be nice. It's her first time."
"Second, technically."
"First time with you. And she won't want a second if you act up like this."
Clark readily replaces the fingers on your clit, determined to get you to your third peak. Bruce snorts, but begins fucking you in earnest. Each thrust is delicious and punishing. Clark amps up the intensity, pressing and pinching your clit. You can't hear yourself, can't understand that you're saying as you say it anyway. Your toes curl; you kick into empty air. You find some purchase on Bruce's back, and dig your claws. His pupils blow out as he shoves his knot into you.
You feel like the best omega in the world as he fills you up.
You all lay in a heap until Bruce detatches from you. You lightly whine at the loss, head fuzzy from the endorphins. You're floating in their scent, their purrs, their warmth. Coherent thought doesn't return to you until you are placed in a warm bath. You gradually come down from your high as your alphas clean you. Dad is extra gentle drying you off. He sports a fresh bite mark with pride, forgoing a shirt. Pa scents you thoroughly after you're dressed. The smell makes your head a little hazy again. You're brought to a nest of clean bedding. You bed down between your alphas while a small, shameful part of wonders when they'll give you their knots again.
Before he was committed, Yandere!AsylumPatient was a walking urban legend. He wasn't a calculated mastermind; he was completely, terrifyingly chaotic, the kind of monster who would end up on the news for destroying a public space or going after completely random people for reasons only his warped mind understood. The entire city breathed a sigh of relief when he was finally locked away in the high-security wing of the asylum. He is notoriously violent, and even the beefiest, most hardened guards refuse to enter his cell without a full riot squad and tranquilizers on standby.
You, on the other hand, are the absolute polar opposite. You are a deeply anxious, fragile, and heavily medicated patient who was completely eaten alive by the brutal reality of the asylum. The constant echoing screams down the hallways, the loud slamming of heavy iron doors, and the cold, clinical apathy of the staff keep your nervous system in a state of permanent panic. You spend most of your days huddled in the corners of the recreation yard, trembling, staring at the floor, and trying to make yourself as invisible as possible.
Yandere!AsylumPatient noticed you on your very first day in the yard. While the other patients kept their distance from him out of pure survival instinct, you were too dazed by your sedative cocktail to realize who he was. When a group of aggressive, larger patients tried to corner you to steal your ration card, he didn't just step in, he turned the entire recreation yard into a bloodbath. He dismantled them within seconds, his face twisted into a maniacal, joyful grin as he broke bones just to hear them snap. But the moment he turned around to look at you, the wild, crazed light in his eyes instantly softened.
From that exact moment, he appointed himself as your absolute, immovable shield. He treats the entire asylum like his personal playground, and you are his most prized, delicate treasure. When he is around you, his terrifying, bloodthirsty persona completely melts away into an affectionate, playful tease. He loves leaning his head on your shoulder, poking your cheeks, and whispering ridiculous jokes in your ear just to see if he can get you to crack a small smile through your anxiety. "Hey, little bird... look what I got for you. Don't tell the doctors, or I'll have to bite them again."
Yandere!AsylumPatient is a master at stealing things from the staff and other wards just to spoil you. Despite being heavily monitored, he always manages to slip into your hands things that are strictly forbidden or impossible for a patient to get: a soft, smuggled contraband blanket that doesn't scratch your skin, a handful of sweet candies he swiped from a nurse's desk, or a colorful drawing he made using stolen crayons. He will literally sit at your feet in the dayroom, shielding your body from the view of the guards, hand-feeding you treats like you're a pampered royal rather than a prisoner.
The asylum administration is absolutely terrified of the codependency developing between you two, so they try to separate you constantly. But every single attempt results in absolute catastrophe. The second a guard puts a hand on your arm to lead you to a different wing, he flips the switch back to his "batshit insane" self. He will scream, spit, and fight with the strength of ten men, throwing his body against the concrete walls and threatening to rip the throats out of every doctor on the board. He makes it completely impossible for the facility to function.
During his worst, most violent episodes when he is strapped to a gurney in a straitjacket, foaming at the mouth and laughing hysterically while doctors try to pump him full of sedatives, the only thing that can calm him down is you. The staff eventually learned that the fastest way to stop a full-scale riot is to just wheel his gurney right back into your room. The second he sees your face, his frantic breathing slows down. He’ll look up at you through his restraints, his bloody teeth bared in a soft, goofy grin, and whine like a puppy. "See? I told them I'd behave if they brought me back to my favorite person. Come untie me, sweetie."
Yandere!AsylumPatient has effectively turned your shared corner of the asylum into an untouchable sanctuary. The other patients are too terrified to even look in your direction, and the doctors have completely given up on separating you out of fear for their own lives. You are still trapped in a cold, terrifying asylum, but as long as his heavy, protective arm is draped around your shoulders, pulling your anxious frame tight against his chest, the rest of the world can't hurt you anymore. He will keep you safe in his madness forever.
Yandere!AsylumPatient has a literal, physical dependency on touching you. The doctors call it a "pathological hyper-fixation," but to him, it’s just breathing. Whether you two are sitting in the cold dayroom, walking the bleak corridors, or eating in the cafeteria, he must have some part of his body connected to yours. He’ll walk right behind you with a large, heavy hand resting firmly on the small of your back, or he’ll constantly play with your fingers, tracing the lines of your palm. Even if he’s in the middle of a manic, high-energy rant to himself, his other hand will be gently, rhythmically patting your head, treating you like the only grounding wire in his chaotic mind.
This constant touch is actually the only thing that keeps his violent impulses at bay. The guards have noticed a terrifying pattern: if he is touching you, his heart rate is stable, and he just acts like a teasing, overly affectionate boyfriend. But the exact millimeter his skin loses contact with yours, like if a nurse forces you to step away for a blood pressure check, his entire body goes completely rigid. His jaw tics up, his eyes go dead, and he begins to growl. He will literally glare at the staff like a rabid dog on a short leash until your hand is safely back in his.
Yandere!AsylumPatient treats your high levels of anxiety as an invitation to smother you. Whenever the alarms go off, or another patient has a loud, screaming episode that makes you cover your ears and shake, he gets this dark, intensely satisfied look in his eyes. He will instantly pull your fragile frame into his lap, wrapping his long arms around you like a human straitjacket, burying his face in your neck. He’ll rock you back and forth, whispering playful, sweet nonsense against your skin while shielding your view of the room. "Let them scream, little bird. Just listen to me. I'm right here. Breathe me in."
The nighttime routine is the absolute bane of the asylum’s security staff. Because they are kept in separate wards at night, he is supposed to be locked behind a reinforced steel door. He isn't. Nobody actually knows how he does it whether he steals a hairpin, blackmails a night-shift guard, or literally forces the hinges out of the frame but every single night, without fail, he breaks out of his cell. He sneaks through the dark, sterile hallways like a ghost, completely ignoring the security cameras, with only one destination in mind: your room.
You’ll be lying in your cot, staring at the ceiling in a state of deeply anxious insomnia, when you suddenly hear the soft, familiar click of your door unlocking. He’ll slip into your room with a huge, boyish grin, completely untroubled by the fact that he’s breaking maximum-security protocols. Before you can even whisper his name, he’s already sliding under your thin, scratchy white blanket. He will pull you flush against his chest, tucking your head securely under his chin, and let out a deep, contented sigh, finally falling asleep the second he can feel your heartbeat against his ribs.
The middle of the night always ends in a chaotic, exhausting circus. Around 3:00 AM, the night-guard patrol will inevitably shine a flashlight through your window, spot the massive, notorious killer sleeping peacefully in the fragile patient's bed, and sound the red alarm. A squad of six to eight heavily armored guards will burst into the room with batons and shields. He doesn't even wake up angry; he just groans, holding onto you even tighter, wrapping his legs around yours like a stubborn child throwing a tantrum.
As the guards literally grab his arms and try to pry him out of your bed, he’ll start screaming and cursing, tossing his head back and snapping his teeth at them. He’ll rip the sheets, kick the bedframe, and fight with terrifying, supernatural strength just to keep one hand wrapped around your wrist. "Let go of me, you corporate pigs! I'm sleeping! They were having a nightmare. I'm helping them! I'll skin you alive if you pull me away from them!" He will drag the entire weight of the guard squad across the floorboards just to maintain a grip on your fingertips for three more seconds.
The second his grip finally slips and they successfully drag him backward out into the hallway, he flips completely into his chaotic, batshit-insane persona laughing maniacally, threatening the night supervisor's family, and kicking the walls until they lock him in solitary. But it’s completely pointless. The staff knows that within three hours, the sun will come up, the recreation yard will open, and he will walk right back out of his cell, completely fine, covered in new bruises, and immediately seek you out to place a warm, possessive hand right back on your shoulder as if nothing ever happened.
TW: This story has themes of cult activity, obsessions, paranormal activity, murder, sexual themes, platonic yanderes and cannibalism
Author's Note: Duke, Cass, Steph and Babs are in this story! They aren't mentioned in chapter one though... Sorry!!
Parties were always a bore, from the rich old white men who spew statistics and gloat their company to the young men and women of said old men who act ten times better than they really are.
Tim despises all of this. He's very rarely had a genuinely positive interaction with anyone in a gala, and he's been going to them since he was popped out of the womb by Janet Drake. And he's bound to continue attending them until he himself is one of the rich old men that spews statistics and gloats to the younger ones who'd rather be anywhere else than here.
Tonight the theme was Straight From The Painting - meaning guests were asked to dress up as a painting they adored. If Jason had been at this gala tonight Tim was sure he would have fitted The Fallen Angel painting by Alexandre Cabanel. Yet, he wasn't, and he wasn't planning on attending it so there was no use dwelling on it.
Tim was dressed as Along the River During the Qingming Festival by Zhang Zeduan a painting he was entranced by while scrolling aimlessly for a painting he could choose that others wouldn't have. From across the room he notes Damian barely hiding a scowl as an older woman gushes over how adorable he looks in his outfit inspired by Napoleon Crossing The Alps by Jacques-Louis David.
If Tim was to look more to the right he'd see Dick dressed in colours of red, blue, greens, yellows, and something mimicking slightly tanned skin colour. The outfit was revealing, but it's what the people want. His outfit is inspired by The Creation of Adam by Michelangelo. He's standing beside Bruce calmly, grinning without a word and bantering with the people around him. However, Tim knows Dick better than Dick knows himself, Tim can see the slight discomfort as someone touches his shoulder and leers at his form.
Bruce stands next to Dick, a flute of champagne in his hand as he talks to a woman older than him. His Brucie persona shining brighter than the chandelier lights above. Despite this, the painting his clothes were inspired by was rather macabre. The painting is called Ivan the Terrible and His Son Ivan by Ilya Repin. There's something ironic about the painting Bruce chose, but Tim wasn't about to voice it.
Tim is so lost in thought he doesn't notice the girl trying to speak to him - the girl who's starting to look peeved he was looking everywhere BUT her.
"Well, if you're just going to be an ass then I'll go talk to someone else." She huffs out, shoving his shoulder as she walks off. Tim blinks before cursing under his breath - bad impressions get out to the public far too easily. He turns and quickly grabs her wrist. "I'm so sorry, I promise I was just lost in thought!" He quickly tries to remedy.
-
You'd been having an awful night. First of all, some other guest had rocked up in an outfit based off of the same painting you had based your outfit on - which annoyed you to no end! It was completely disrespectful, you had spoken to the media about it as soon as the theme arose!
Then, some old raisin started talking about his son - who had funnily enough dressed inspired by Echo and Narcissus by John William Waterhouse. And the old fart wouldn't stop trying to preposition you into marrying the literal and figurative narcissist!
And when you finally, finally got out of that conversation your mother had pointed you to Tim Drake and shooed you off to him to try and connect. Something about building strings when you take over your mother and father's company. So you begrudgingly go over and try to strike up a conversation - only for him to blatantly ignore you! You didn't even notice you had been talking to yourself because you had stupidly decided to start rambling.
So, having bad enough with the humiliation for one night you decided to take the high road and just walk off and try and find somewhere else to lurk... Maybe you could sneak a flute of champagne... But a cold, frankly clammy, hand quickly latches onto you as Tim starts rambling off some half-hearted apology with an awkward smile stretching too far for his thin self.
You want to slap him, you imagine saying something cool - a witty one liner, a quip that has people around cheering for you. But your mind goes blank...
You could say something about his clothes? No, they look fine. Actually, they look amazing. Fuck.
You could mention his clammy hands but what can you tie in with that to make it less of an observation and more of something cool that you'd see a character say in a movie.
Oh! He has two boyfriends! You can tell him to go run along to them, reference his thin frame! Wait- no. No you can't. He doesn't know you, there's a high chance he'll think you're homophobic - which you are NOT!
As you genuinely ponder the best way to get back at him verbally, while Tim just stands there waiting for your answer awkwardly (most definitely thinking of your weirdness and taking it into account. Turns out your facial expressions changed with every thought) a loud bang rings out through the venue.
Something whizzes past your face, grazing your cheek. Everything moves too fast to catch up, especially when you were just in your own head and not paying attention to anything. Tim pulls you to the floor, guests start screaming, Tim manages to somehow drag you to a large table full of food, though he hadn't been so lucky as a rather thick dress shoe slams down on his foot, causing a sickening crack and a pained grunt from him.
You're trembling, scared out of your mind, paralysed to the point that despite Tim's injured hand you remained dead weight for him to pull along. You managed to scoot under the table cloth of the table alongside him and watched as Tim opened a secret hatch to a tunnel in the wall.
Huh. You thought those were only in spy movies.
... Huh. Tim Drake has a secret tunnel... That doesn't sound right but you can't think straight. Your ears are ringing, your stomach turning like a washing machine, your ears pounding out of your head, your limbs stiff and your throat dry. You can't bring yourself to process anything but how scared you are.
You don't question nor process when Tim pushes you into the hole, you just start crawling. The tunnel closes after a pause, Tim comes up beside you - the passageway could fit a bicycle laying down on its side - before taking the lead.
You just follow him, hoping he wasn't some evil freak with bad intentions.
-
It's felt like you've been crawling - and occasionally sliding - forever. The gunshots ringing out have grown faint, the shock has started to be replaced with a sinking horror at the realization at what had just taken place.You're parents were in there... Are they alright? Is anyone alright?
You look to Tim, wanting to ask, but you doubt he knows what's happening either. A sudden wave of guilt overcomes you - you're being so selfish right now. Tim's family was in the room too, they could be dead right now, Tim's hand looks broken - to the point it's swelling and looking painfully purple and black - and he's having to lead you to safety.
You stop in your tracks, your voice coming out far too cracked and far too meek for your liking. "Tim...?" Tim stops crawling before turning to face you, your frown deepens as your guilt rises. He's probably just as scared as you. "I.. I'm sorry about your hand... If you need pressure on it I can tear off parts of my outfit..!" You offer, trying to smile comfortingly. You watch as Tim softens slightly before smiling back at you, just as forced as yours was. "It's alright, when we get to the destination we're headed I can tend to my hand." He answers, his voice oddly steady, like he's used to the high intensity situation.
You hesitate, feeling it'd be wrong to just allow that. Tim starts to crawl again and you act quickly, forgetting to think. You grab his ankle and pull him back. He yelps, almost falling on his face. You offer a small apology before quickly crawling up to his side more and cut off bits of your outfit - luckily you had your eyebrow scissors in your purse, just in case of an eyebrow emergency. They aren't the sharpest in the world but they do the trick.
You wrap up his hand, closing your eyes and trying to remember how your father taught you to wrap hand injuries as you wrap Tim's. You try not to think about your dad or mother, try not to imagine their corpses on the ground where you're sure they are. You hope they got out, but you don't know. You don't want to hope.
If future you could have looked back at this moment you wouldn't have been so kind to Tim, and you would have kept your eyes open. Because the look on Tim's face as you wrap his hand with eyes squeezed shut was something that would haunt even Wonder Woman's dreams if she were to witness it. It's the look a predator gets when it finds a rather plump prey in the middle of a food shortage.
These are the paintings referenced in the story! (In order of reference)
have you considered that if you keep talking to me while i'm cumming my go-to fantasy is gonna be sitting on your lap while you hold the vibrator?
which basically means i won't be able to stop thinking about you using your legs to keep mine spread and how you'd toy with my cunt before even considering using the toy. spreading it open, gingerly touching around, rubbing my clit and trying to get me embarrassingly wet with just your fingers.
and then, when you finally decide to use the toy, we talk about mundane stuff. a normal conversation except i'm getting less and less coherent because you keep praising me and i just love your voice so much.
need!!! to make a mess on your lap and for you to keep going until i can't form one single sentence and am completely covered with your marks. teeth, fingers, scratches, hickeys... i want everything <3
Two years of dating, three years of marriage. You, Suguru and Satoru – a match made in heaven, most people could be jealous of. You loved each other so deeply that it almost hurt. Although... sometimes their love felt a little too tight. A little too consuming. But that's what true devotion looked like, right? You’re still wondering, while packing the suitcases with tears running down your cheeks.
masterlist
pairing: Satosugu x Reader
content/warnings: MDNI 18+, marriage, husband Geto Suguru x reader, husband Gojo Satoru x reader, Satosugu, yandere, stalking, obsessive behaviour, possessive behaviour, dark romance, pregnancy, kinda babytrapping, anything but healthy relationship, HEAVY smut, HEAVY breeding kink, if I put this tag it'll be a spoiler, manipulation, guilt-tripping, age gap, violence
WC: 5.2k
art by kkatsujii
──── Chapter Three
From that night on, your long relationship has begun. Now that you think about it, after those five years, it was quick. Maybe even a bit too quick.
You took the sex casually, but they definitely did not. As you didn't leave their apartment the next day, and even the next, and two days later. They always had a reason to keep you inside. To kiss and caress and fondle your skin, till every nerve of your body melted under their gentle yet oh so rough touch. Breakfast was always brought right to your bed, and they promised to triple your daily salary if you took a few days off.
So, with a cough and slightly stuffy nose, you called your boss with a miserable excuse of being gravely ill.
And even then, while on the phone with a lovely woman you truly admired and respected, Suguru was glued to your slipper cunt, looking up at your teary eyes with a mischievous look. Satoru's lips curled around your nipples, fondling and squeezing the sensitive buds, till a low cough slipped past your lips.
"Oh, you don't sound well, darling," your boss said, a slight worry in her voice, and an embarrassed warmth hit your cheeks.
Fingers curled around Suguru's locks, pulling him closer. Till the spongy tongue slipped inside and pushed a low growl right into your womb. "Y-yeah, I'm sorry it's really," when his two fingers thrusted through your hole, filling the plush insides with a toe-curling pleasure, another cough escaped your throat. "Really b-bad!"
And so you stayed at their apartment for the next three days. Time filled with sex, laughter, and long talks on their terrace, lying warmly in their arms and cherishing the shimmering stars watching over your tangled bodies.
With kisses that melted your heart and giggles slipping past your kiss-swollen lips, while Satoru told another cheeky joke and Suguru simply rolled his eyes.
When they finally let you go back home, after the long promise that what you had just started was serious for you as it was for them, you left their apartment with a smile plastered to your warm cheeks.
Their driver dropped you off, and you truly felt sorry for the young blond man, who had to listen to your crying moans in the backseat just a few days ago. It seemed, however, that he didn't mind.
Didn't care. As he acted as courteous as always, with his chocolate eyes looking back at your beaming face once every few minutes and asking politely whether you're comfortable.
"Yes, Nanami. Thank you," you giggled at his tensed nod. "How long have you been working for them?"
His sandy brows furrowed, and a low sigh filled the dark car. "Nine years. The bosses started running the company quite young."
You hummed, looking over the window. The streets of Tokyo curved under the heavy, summer rain, and humid air kissed the necks of passersby. Cool air smooched your cheeks, and another pleasured hum bubbled in your throat.
"So," you started again, noticing that Nanami was indeed more open to conversation than you thought. "What are they doing?"
Chocolate eyes look up, observing you through the little mirror. For a long, long time, before he finally said, "Why don't you ask them, miss?"
He was right. You could simply ask them. And yet, something beneath your chest told you that they wouldn't be as honest as you wished them to.
"Well, I did," you lied, recalling the time Shiu called them "bosses." You were too shocked to care then, but now, with a clear mind, it seemed rather weird. For a man like Shiu to have someone above him. "I just, well, want to know whether they are… good. Good at what they do. Nice bosses."
A low fuck rolled quietly upon hearing your utterly miserable attempt to pull his tongue.
Another minute of silence stretched between you and a man who would rather be anywhere but here, before he finally broke it. "They are very good at what they do, miss," Nanami said, at the same time parking under your apartment block.
You muttered a polite thank you and left the car, running to your block with your hands above your head. The heavy, humid rain wet your back, warm droplets dripping down your spine, before you finally came inside.
And when the lift brought you to your floor, and you turned into the corridor, a familiar, dark-haired figure appeared right in front of your flat. With furious smoke curling above her head, and cheeks twisted into a possessed grimace.
Before she spotted you, Shoko's small fist was banging on the door. With screams slashing through the corridor and the most obscene threats thrown right into the wooden surface.
But then she turned, looking straight into your face – glowing like the sweetest peach, with swollen lips and shimmering eyes. Angelic, beautiful, completely fucked.
"You fucking whore," she pushed out a laugh, biting the inside of her cheek. "Three days?"
You giggled before kissing her cheek sorrowfully. "Could've been a week, but I need to finish that project for creative writing class."
She shook her head, waiting until you opened the door, then following you straight into your small, shabby apartment. The place you truly hated – with constantly mouldy walls, barely any sunlight filtering through the small window, and a weird, rotten smell lingering in the air no matter how many scented candles you burned.
But it was cheap. And for Tokyo's standards, the price and location truly couldn't be better.
Shoko plopped down on your sofa, and you joined her before throwing the student's ID onto the coffee table. She looked at it with narrowed eyes and burst out laughing.
"I can't believe you whored yourself out for this," she said, turning her head your way. "At least I hope it was worth it."
Oh, it was. So, so worth. As your body still burned at the mere thought of their fingers tracing plush circles on your clit and two fat cocks filling you up till your lower belly bulged.
"Well, technically I didn't," you bite back, resting your head on your arm, draped over the back of the sofa.
A little wrinkle formed between her eyebrows as she tilted her head. "What do you mean? Wasn't it just a three-night stand?"
Your tongue pushed against the inside of a soft cheek before an embarrassed chuckle escaped your lips. Shoko's brows furrowed even further. "What the hell did you do?"
"Well, technically…" You began, slowly, gently, before dropping the final bomb. "I'm in a new relationship."
She stared at you for a moment. With eyes bulging like porcelain teacups and a mouth slightly fallen. If the usual cigarette was hanging from between them, your nasty sofa would gain another dusty hole.
Long, brown hair curled around her flabbergasted face and hazelnut eyes were still trying to figure out whether you were serious.
You were.
"You're joking," she stated, trying to crack a smile. "With who? Them? Shiu? All three of them?"
Oh, you forgot about that part.
And so you told her everything from the very beginning, not missing a detail from the unfortunate meeting in front of the bar, Shiu's dirty little secret and their pleas to go out with them in exchange for a student's ID. So you did whore yourself out for a fucking card, Shoko said, catching you biting down on lower lip with an awkward groan.
"So what you say is that they forced you into a relationship," she remarked, following the frown building up between your brows.
She wasn't wrong, but… It's not like you weren't curious. You didn't plan to start a new affair, but at the silly age of twenty-three, with university-related stress piling up and long work hours spent in a bar, you wanted to have some fun.
And fun they were indeed, keeping you warm and fuzzy.
"They didn't force me," you crossed legs on a sofa, and slipped a soft tsk. "Well, maybe they did. Kinda. A bit? But I'm fine. We're going to have some fun for a year and simply go our separate ways."
Shoko didn't look half-convinced, seeing the bubble forming in your throat and nervous cuticles picking.
"It's just…" she sighed. "Look, be careful. If they want to find a sugar baby, then that's fine," you grimaced hearing this word, and she continued. "What I'm trying to say is that–"
But before she could finish, a loud knock echoed through your small space. Shoko's eyes widened, lips pressed into a thin line. You were also surprised, as no one was expected at this hour.
"Yuki?" she guessed, but you quickly shook your head. "Shiu?"
A scoff slipped past your lips as you stood up, heading towards the door. "I don't think he would have the courage, after…" When you pulled the handle, your body froze. "Oh."
On the other side, with slightly unsettling smiles, stood Satoru and Suguru. Your new boyfriends. Dressed in neatly fitted suits and fingers gripping the phones.
Something eerie coiled behind their eyes. Something that made your skin crawl with coldness. Sinister, malign, as if the hues of blue and lavender tried to burn a hole in your warmed cheeks, as you look at them with an innocent pout.
And it seemed that Shoko also felt the sudden change in the air, slowly rising from the sofa. Her fingers gripped the phone tighter, eyes never leaving the two men whose aura made her heart beat faster. In a sudden, incomprehensible fear.
Not a second has passed since your cheeks were cupped by Satoru's strong hands. "Sweetheart, are you okay?" he cooed. "Did anything happen?"
Your head shook. "No, but…" Eyes going back and forth between your two boyfriends. "What are you doing here?"
Satoru's fingers combed through your hair, brushing away the stray strands. Soft lips kissed your cheeks, nose, and forehead, checking your face as if you were a porcelain doll.
Suguru stood next to him, curling a lock of your hair around his finger. "You weren't replying to our messages."
"Messages?" you murmured, looking over your shoulder. Your phone lay on a coffee table, screen facing the wooden surface.
Shoko noticed your gaze and picked it up. Her lips fell open, and eyes widened as she looked up at two men in shock. "You–"
"Well…" Suguru gave her an uninterested look before turning back to you. His fingers lifted, brushing a sweet pout that twisted your lips. "We just wanted to see whether you're okay. Please try to reply to our messages from now on," his voice was low yet pleasant, with the heavy scent of expensive cologne radiating from his body slipping into your shabby apartment. "We were simply worried."
You nodded, still feeling somewhat overwhelmed. By their fierce response, the touch that was gentle yet tinged with brutality, and those eyes, trying to conceal the madness beneath a mask of worry.
"Ah, and start packing," Satoru added, chuckling softly. His crystal eyes scanned your apartment, taking in the fresh mould forming next to the fridge and the damp patch on the ceiling from last week's flood caused by the neighbour upstairs. "Someone will pick up your things on Friday."
"Friday?" you barely managed to cough out. "But we just started–"
Suguru's eyes narrowed as his thumb brushed your bubbly lower lip, silencing you. "How can we allow our girl to live in such conditions? Besides, our apartment is closer to your university. Isn't it much more comfortable?"
It wasn't a matter of comfort, but the sole fact that everything was rushing too fast. And with Shoko beaming with fury behind your sweating neck, you could do nothing but nod and try to get rid of them as quickly as possible.
Seeing the sweet obedience lifting your lips, both of them calmed. Deep eyes returned to their familiar warmth, with a cheeky blue, and soft lavender gazing down at you with fondness.
"That's our girl," Satoru smiled and kissed your forehead. His fingers, for the last time, caressed your cheek with a soft brush, before his eyes looked towards Shoko. "We won't be bothering you anymore. Have fun with your friend, sweetheart, and see you tomorrow."
And when the tall, muscular backs finally disappeared around the corridor's corner, you closed the doors with a soft click. Your back hit the wooden surface as you leaned against it and closed your eyes.
As if you had completely forgotten the Shoko, burning a hole in your forehead while still gripping your phone. An awkward silence stretched between your bodies, divided by a simple coffee table, and voices stuck in your clenched throat.
Shoko finally coughed. "How much time has passed since you left their apartment?" The words rolled lowly, with chocolate eyes filled with a mix of anger and worry.
You looked up and sighed. Fingers tapped softly on the door as you bit the inside of your cheeks. "I don't know, an hour? Maybe two?"
She looked down at your glowing screen, closing her eyes with a gentle frown.
"What?" you asked, bouncing off the wooden surface. "What–"
"A hundred and fifty messages," her fingers turned the phone your way, to present a you have 150 unread messages from Satoru <3" and "Suguru".
Hundred and fifty messages.
Hundred. And. Fifty.
In solely two hours, all because you forgot to check your phone.
Her fingers trembled as she held it, eyes trying to read the thoughts coiling inside your mind. Your chest rose and fell with rapid breaths as you took the phone away from them and started looking through the messages.
Knowing how much angrier she would get at seeing their content – radiating possessiveness, obsessiveness, something raw yet loving, sometimes even edged with a threat – you locked the phone and put it back in your pocket.
"Break it off," she decided, her voice low and serious. "Something's wrong. Block them. Now."
Her fingers tried to slip your phone back, but you quickly grabbed her wrist. "Wait, Shoko–"
"Are you fucking kidding me? What do you want to wait for?"
You sighed, trying to calm her down. Your fingers curled around her shoulders, as if gentle shakes could help her cool off. Warm eyes glared at you with fury, and brown hair framed her flushed cheeks. "There's nothing wrong with them. They're just…"
Just what?
"Psychos? Stalkers? Possessed?" she started counting, and you started to feel even worse. "I can go on all day."
Looking back, that silly argument between you two was quite amusing. A few years later, Shoko would still be the only friend hating your husbands, constantly avoiding them and secretly wishing you'd met someone else. They were a bit mad about you, and while a healthy relationship relies on the man loving his woman much more than she loves him, she sensed a danger. Behind those handsome faces and fake smiles, it was as if Satan had crawled from hell, disguised as a simple mortal.
But then, in a shabby, mouldy apartment that hid your fair hearts from the clutches of brutal reality, Shoko could only burst into tears over the solemn fate of her dearest friend. As she truly believed that a horrific curse had plagued your fate, and something deep in her heart warned her of the two devils that had entered your life.
At the mere age of twenty-three, neither of you yet knew how truly ugly and wicked their true faces would reveal themselves to be.
☾ ☾ ☾
You didn't move with them next Friday.
Not even the next, nor the next next, as too soon kept slipping past your lips. As dissatisfied as they were, they didn't want to force anything on you.
Maybe you didn't live together, but you still spent half the week at their place, cherishing the silk linens against your skin and the always-full fridge, so different from the half-moulded bread and sour milk in yours.
They took you out to lavish dinners each weekend, and something warm spread across your chest as you watched them proudly show you off. Their beautiful, sweet girlfriend always got the princess treatment she deserved, followed by two beastly bodyguards who kept a watchful eye on every curious glance your way.
And as you soon discovered, nothing made Suguru and Satoru happier than your requests.
Beginning with simple requests like, "Can you please order something for me?" during your weekly date, and ending with something much bolder as, "How about you buy me an apartment?"
Their eyes always shimmered with excitement, lips curving teasingly, causing a lovely giggle to escape your lips. Oh, how you loved to make them happy with your bold desires, watching as they eagerly fulfilled all your mischievous whims.
Going abroad? No problem, your tickets were ready the next day.
Those adorable yet pricey cakes, resembling real fruits and only available on another continent? No sweat, you'd have them as a dessert after dinner the following day.
Asking for anything was effortless, as if they were just waiting for your requests, even the most silly ones. Sometimes you'd push the limits, requesting bizarre gifts you thought impossible to obtain even for them – the only signed copy of your favourite novel, a limited-edition bag sold only in five copies, tickets to a concert that sold out instantly.
At some point, you stopped challenging them when a second wardrobe had to be bought to accommodate all your silly wishes.
The question of their work remained something of a mystery, as neither of them was honest about what they did. You could see it in the way they always avoided your questions with a simple "just a simple CEO position", as if being a CEO were already something simple.
"So what exactly do you do?" you asked during one of those evenings spent in their apartment.
With three glasses of wine, sweet and full, and your body splayed on the sofa. Head resting on Satoru's thighs, feet cradled in Suguru's skilful fingers. The film long forgotten, you stared up at Satoru's crystal eyes from above your lashes, shimmering with that familiar cheekiness you learnt to truly adore.
"Just boring paperwork," he chirped, running his fingers through your hair. A soft, cat-like hum slipped past your lips as he began to circle your temples. "Sweetheart, it's nothing special, really. Meetings with stakeholders, simple office work, more meetings, more office work…"
"Yeah, I get it, but– Auch!" Suguru's fingers pinched your thigh, and you jerked under his touch. "What was it for?"
Leaning over your legs, he kissed the pulsing spot and drew another giggle from your throat. "For being too curious, darling. Stop asking questions you shouldn't know."
But the thing was – you didn't know why.
Why did any discussion about their jobs feel off-limits? And why did something ominous flicker behind their eyes whenever you provoked them?
So at some point, you simply stopped asking. The whole CEO thing was credible enough to justify the weekly cash they spent solely on your little pleasure.
The amount they've spent on a… traditional Japanese house.
Just on the outskirts of Tokyo.
"Absolutely not," you gasped, watching the golden beams of sunlight spill across the wooden floor. The kitchen was bathed in warmth, with dark counters and vintage cutlery gleaming silver. Long hallways lined with windows swept over the deep forest, and a living room overlooked the garden. "You're joking!"
Both of them chuckled as they watched you dash happily from one place to another. Barefoot, you skidded across the new wooden floor, while the pine scent filled the house with a fresh aroma. Another scream escaped your lips as you spotted a large bathtub set into the floor.
"It could fit a horse!" you shouted from the bathroom as they followed you at a slow pace. Your head peeked out from the doorway, several strands of hair sticking to your blissfully flushed cheeks. "Can we get the horse? No, maybe a whole farm? I’ve always wanted a pet cow." Before Suguru could speak, you quickly added, "No, I'm joking. I know you would be able to do it."
So he only chuckled, brushing away loose strands. Lavender warmth set your heart ablaze, and you nuzzled into his hand as a big thumb gently traced your cheeks.
"Does it mean you agree?"
A pout twisted your lips, and deep thought creased a soft forehead. "It's so far from the centre."
And it's been just two months, you wanted to add, but you knew there’s no such thing as too short for them. If you had kept up with their pace, a lovely wedding band would already be on your finger.
Satoru leaned against the doorframe, crossing muscular arms on his chest. Still dressed in suits, you found it impossible to look directly into his eyes. Instead, your gaze drifted between his broad back and the white shirt clinging to his chest, as if you wouldn't be the one unbuttoning it just minutes later.
Your fingers settled on Suguru's chest, your face sulking sweetly as you looked up at him. He chuckled, taking in the little, cheeky shimmer dancing in your gaze. "Nanami will drive you every day."
"Does Nanami know about it?" you asked, believing that the blonde man had much more interesting things to do than driving your ass back and forth between the house and the university.
Suguru's lips curled as the end of his long black hair tickled your cheeks. "Nanami works for us, darling. He'll wait for you under the university for a whole day if we order him to."
Poor Nanami, you thought before finally nodding your head. At first, slowly, only to wrap your arms around Suguru and nuzzle into his warm chest and bounce like a little birdie on your toes.
"Is that a yes?" Satoru smiled, drinking in the soft giggle that slipped past your lips.
Suguru's arms curled around your body, and as you looked between the lavender and blue hues, waiting patiently for your answer. "Yes! Let's move in."
A sudden wave of wet smooches landed on your cheeks, nose, forehead, and lips, and soft thank you, thank you, thank you filled the warm corridors of your new house. The love bounced off the wooden doors as they led you towards the bright living room, with a large table coated in morning kisses of sunshine and long, golden rays dancing across your euphoric face.
The house tour lasted far longer than it was supposed to, as your panties soon found their way onto the floor and summer dress curled around your plush hips. With thighs spread wide, honeyed moans slipped past your lips and head lulled back as you watched, with a hazy gaze, two of your boyfriends slurping messily on your dripping pussy. With three fingers already in and soft pads rubbing the plump spot that made your toes curl.
"W-We, ahhh, we haven't even moved y-yet," a cry rolled in pleasure, feeling Suguru's lips sucking gently on your clit. "Mmmmm."
Satoru spat hefty on your folds, pushing saliva right into your fluttering hole. "We need to bless our house, sweetheart," he chuckled, feeling your walls clench on his fingers.
And so they worked you for half the afternoon, with your belly pressed to the wooden table, knees spread right under your trembling hips and their cocks, one after another, filling you to the brim. Till the mix of your milky cums dripped down the freshly polished floor and reddish marks coated the full length of your spine.
Rough pads of their dug deep into the fat of your ass, soft breasts, spreading your drenched folds and keeping you nicely in place, as muscular chests loomed over your poor, blubbering body splayed on the table.
Two days later, you officially moved in.
And with you, a dozen other people.
Maids, bodyguards, and errand boys lingered outside the heavy doors day and night, securing the house hidden deep in the woods and always at the snap of your fingers. You didn't understand it at first, why you'd never seen all those people while staying in the apartment.
Tall men dressed in black always guarded the front doors, as if the runaway criminals were ready to burst through them any second. Each morning, on your way to the university, you gave them a small nod, although it seemed none of them were keen to chat.
None, apart from the two youngest, who always enjoyed the brief small talk and walked you straight to Nanami's car.
"Yuji, you don't have to do it," you laughed, as the young boy kept you company through the mere few meters stretching between the house's main doors and garage. "The car is right here."
"That was the order, madam," a lower voice slipped in as Megumi opened the doors for you.
You giggled, looking at two completely different yet lovely boys. "Well, I didn't know CEOs needed such high security. It seems Satoru and Suguru are rather crazy about their safety," you said, putting the bags in the back seat.
Nanami was already inside, waiting until you climbed into the car. Seven a.m. did neither of you any good, seeing how tired he truly looked.
"Only your safety, madam," Yuji chirped in, with a shiny smile beaming off his face. "They care about you a lot."
A slight grimace sliced across your face as your fingers gripped the bag's straps tighter. "I can see. Although I think the whole…" You looked around, gesturing to all the people who lived in your house during the day. "Is a bit too much, isn't it?"
But they didn't say anything. In fact, they barely spoke about Satoru and Suguru, particularly their work. All you needed to know was that their position was high and important enough to hire a bunch of bodyguards to guard your house like trained dogs.
And so you stayed with them, within the warm wooden walls of your new house, enjoying the endless idyllic feeling that had settled beneath your chest. You spent your days studying, meeting girls and having fun in town, with evenings always reserved for nuzzling into their muscular chests and breathing in the heavy scent of cologne.
Although the questions still lingered deep inside your mind – doubts and anxieties that rose in your throat – you kept your mouth shut, and lips pursed. You couldn't share your concerns with Shoko, as her tears still dampened the memories of that evening, and she questioned your relationship from the very start.
Your decision to move in felt like a pure betrayal, and thus, she could do nothing but watch in fear and concern as her beloved friend was willingly entering the devil's domain.
And so you stayed alone, with your head trying to wrap around all the little vexes that gave you sleepless nights.
As to why the doors needed multiple locks, and why did some rooms remain out of your reach? Why couldn't you just take a short walk in a nearby forest, and why did at least two bodyguards always seem to follow you around the city?
Why was the basement always locked, and why was no key ever found anywhere in the house? As if Satoru and Suguru always carried it with them.
One day, as you crossed the hallway, you saw Satoru walking out of the basement, wiping his hands with a cloth. Pitch darkness filled the small room behind him, and thus, you couldn't see anything except wooden stairs leading down into damp, cold darkness.
Crystal eyes crossed with yours, and for a mere, short second, you saw a flicker of shock filling his gaze. Milky strands moved together with his tilted head, and fingers gripped the cloth tighter. Crimson droplets decorated the white material, and so you gasped, quickly grabbing his hands.
"What happened? Are you alright?" A worry lingered in your voice, as you've noticed the last hues of red painting his digits. "Did you hurt yourself?"
He stayed quiet for a few minutes, ogling carefully your forehead creased in care. So sweet and innocent.
You could feel his heavy gaze burning a hole through your skull. The air seemed to thicken, as if licked by sudden cold, but when you looked up, you met only Satoru's loving gaze.
"Are you that worried about me, sweetheart?" he chirped, pulling his hands away from yours. "Why are you here? I thought you had a morning class?"
"It got moved for the afternoon," a sigh rolled past your lips, as you lifted your hand to trace the crimson droplet coating his milky cheek. "Is that blood? Have you killed someone down there?" you joked, and yet he could only smile faintly and nuzzle into your soft touch.
"Don't worry, I cut my fingers on something, probably while moving boxes," he chirped, kissing your palm. "All your Christmas decorations are quite heavy."
A low hum escaped your throat as you brushed away the rest of the blood. Weird, you thought, watching the dark liquid dry even on the strands of milky hair.
"Well, Suguru said I can order whatever I want."
"Is that why we have a two-meter Santa for our garden?" his eyes shimmered with slyness as his fingers curled around your waist, pulling you in. A pout twisted your lips, and he chuckled, kissing you softly. "I'm joking. Go now for your classes and stop worrying," he pinched your ass, rolling another sweet giggle from your lips. "And buy me those blueberry buns on your way back."
"But the line takes ages!" you groaned, wriggling in his arms. This time, a sweet pout twisted his lips, and so you could simply sigh and peck his cheek. "Fine, but tell Suguru not to be mad if I come back later than usual."
He let you slip out of his arms, softly slapping your butt as you walked away.
But even months, years later, that moment never truly faded from your memory. Every time you passed by the basement, it was as if the image of his crimson hands overwhelmed you, bringing with it an uncanny sensation. His eyes, calm yet tinged with something strange. The droplets of blood on his hands, cheeks, and neck, as if it wasn't just a simple cut.
His hands, which you looked at for mere two seconds before he slipped them away – clean and free of any wounds, even the smallest.
And sometimes, on days when they were working and you could walk freely around the house without bodyguards breathing down your neck, you would gaze at the basement door. Long and silent, as if trying to see through the thick wooden surface.
Sometimes your fingers would brush the handle, but only lightly, afraid your boyfriends could see you anywhere near those doors.
On nights when they needed to stay at the office longer, you would sit down, back pressed against the cold wood, ear attuned to every faint sound. Murmured voices, coughs, muffled cries, so quiet, almost impossible to hear. But you did hear them then, and for the next few years wondered what was inside.
Until the unfortunate day you finally slipped inside and chose to care for yourself and your unborn child, away from your husbands. In the arms of a man whose crimson, rough eyes were ready to save you from their deadly clutches.
So many surprises for people who read the previous version heheh
Two years of dating, three years of marriage. You, Suguru and Satoru – a match made in heaven, most people could be jealous of. You loved each other so deeply that it almost hurt. Although... sometimes their love felt a little too tight. A little too consuming. But that's what true devotion looked like, right? You’re still wondering, while packing the suitcases with tears running down your cheeks.
masterlist
pairing: Satosugu x Reader
content/warnings: MDNI 18+, marriage, husband Geto Suguru x reader, husband Gojo Satoru x reader, Satosugu, yandere, stalking, obsessive behaviour, possessive behaviour, dark romance, pregnancy, kinda babytrapping, anything but healthy relationship, HEAVY smut, HEAVY breeding kink, if I put this tag it'll be a spoiler, manipulation, guilt-tripping, age gap, violence
WC: 5.2k
art by kkatsujii
──── Chapter Three
From that night on, your long relationship has begun. Now that you think about it, after those five years, it was quick. Maybe even a bit too quick.
You took the sex casually, but they definitely did not. As you didn't leave their apartment the next day, and even the next, and two days later. They always had a reason to keep you inside. To kiss and caress and fondle your skin, till every nerve of your body melted under their gentle yet oh so rough touch. Breakfast was always brought right to your bed, and they promised to triple your daily salary if you took a few days off.
So, with a cough and slightly stuffy nose, you called your boss with a miserable excuse of being gravely ill.
And even then, while on the phone with a lovely woman you truly admired and respected, Suguru was glued to your slipper cunt, looking up at your teary eyes with a mischievous look. Satoru's lips curled around your nipples, fondling and squeezing the sensitive buds, till a low cough slipped past your lips.
"Oh, you don't sound well, darling," your boss said, a slight worry in her voice, and an embarrassed warmth hit your cheeks.
Fingers curled around Suguru's locks, pulling him closer. Till the spongy tongue slipped inside and pushed a low growl right into your womb. "Y-yeah, I'm sorry it's really," when his two fingers thrusted through your hole, filling the plush insides with a toe-curling pleasure, another cough escaped your throat. "Really b-bad!"
And so you stayed at their apartment for the next three days. Time filled with sex, laughter, and long talks on their terrace, lying warmly in their arms and cherishing the shimmering stars watching over your tangled bodies.
With kisses that melted your heart and giggles slipping past your kiss-swollen lips, while Satoru told another cheeky joke and Suguru simply rolled his eyes.
When they finally let you go back home, after the long promise that what you had just started was serious for you as it was for them, you left their apartment with a smile plastered to your warm cheeks.
Their driver dropped you off, and you truly felt sorry for the young blond man, who had to listen to your crying moans in the backseat just a few days ago. It seemed, however, that he didn't mind.
Didn't care. As he acted as courteous as always, with his chocolate eyes looking back at your beaming face once every few minutes and asking politely whether you're comfortable.
"Yes, Nanami. Thank you," you giggled at his tensed nod. "How long have you been working for them?"
His sandy brows furrowed, and a low sigh filled the dark car. "Nine years. The bosses started running the company quite young."
You hummed, looking over the window. The streets of Tokyo curved under the heavy, summer rain, and humid air kissed the necks of passersby. Cool air smooched your cheeks, and another pleasured hum bubbled in your throat.
"So," you started again, noticing that Nanami was indeed more open to conversation than you thought. "What are they doing?"
Chocolate eyes look up, observing you through the little mirror. For a long, long time, before he finally said, "Why don't you ask them, miss?"
He was right. You could simply ask them. And yet, something beneath your chest told you that they wouldn't be as honest as you wished them to.
"Well, I did," you lied, recalling the time Shiu called them "bosses." You were too shocked to care then, but now, with a clear mind, it seemed rather weird. For a man like Shiu to have someone above him. "I just, well, want to know whether they are… good. Good at what they do. Nice bosses."
A low fuck rolled quietly upon hearing your utterly miserable attempt to pull his tongue.
Another minute of silence stretched between you and a man who would rather be anywhere but here, before he finally broke it. "They are very good at what they do, miss," Nanami said, at the same time parking under your apartment block.
You muttered a polite thank you and left the car, running to your block with your hands above your head. The heavy, humid rain wet your back, warm droplets dripping down your spine, before you finally came inside.
And when the lift brought you to your floor, and you turned into the corridor, a familiar, dark-haired figure appeared right in front of your flat. With furious smoke curling above her head, and cheeks twisted into a possessed grimace.
Before she spotted you, Shoko's small fist was banging on the door. With screams slashing through the corridor and the most obscene threats thrown right into the wooden surface.
But then she turned, looking straight into your face – glowing like the sweetest peach, with swollen lips and shimmering eyes. Angelic, beautiful, completely fucked.
"You fucking whore," she pushed out a laugh, biting the inside of her cheek. "Three days?"
You giggled before kissing her cheek sorrowfully. "Could've been a week, but I need to finish that project for creative writing class."
She shook her head, waiting until you opened the door, then following you straight into your small, shabby apartment. The place you truly hated – with constantly mouldy walls, barely any sunlight filtering through the small window, and a weird, rotten smell lingering in the air no matter how many scented candles you burned.
But it was cheap. And for Tokyo's standards, the price and location truly couldn't be better.
Shoko plopped down on your sofa, and you joined her before throwing the student's ID onto the coffee table. She looked at it with narrowed eyes and burst out laughing.
"I can't believe you whored yourself out for this," she said, turning her head your way. "At least I hope it was worth it."
Oh, it was. So, so worth. As your body still burned at the mere thought of their fingers tracing plush circles on your clit and two fat cocks filling you up till your lower belly bulged.
"Well, technically I didn't," you bite back, resting your head on your arm, draped over the back of the sofa.
A little wrinkle formed between her eyebrows as she tilted her head. "What do you mean? Wasn't it just a three-night stand?"
Your tongue pushed against the inside of a soft cheek before an embarrassed chuckle escaped your lips. Shoko's brows furrowed even further. "What the hell did you do?"
"Well, technically…" You began, slowly, gently, before dropping the final bomb. "I'm in a new relationship."
She stared at you for a moment. With eyes bulging like porcelain teacups and a mouth slightly fallen. If the usual cigarette was hanging from between them, your nasty sofa would gain another dusty hole.
Long, brown hair curled around her flabbergasted face and hazelnut eyes were still trying to figure out whether you were serious.
You were.
"You're joking," she stated, trying to crack a smile. "With who? Them? Shiu? All three of them?"
Oh, you forgot about that part.
And so you told her everything from the very beginning, not missing a detail from the unfortunate meeting in front of the bar, Shiu's dirty little secret and their pleas to go out with them in exchange for a student's ID. So you did whore yourself out for a fucking card, Shoko said, catching you biting down on lower lip with an awkward groan.
"So what you say is that they forced you into a relationship," she remarked, following the frown building up between your brows.
She wasn't wrong, but… It's not like you weren't curious. You didn't plan to start a new affair, but at the silly age of twenty-three, with university-related stress piling up and long work hours spent in a bar, you wanted to have some fun.
And fun they were indeed, keeping you warm and fuzzy.
"They didn't force me," you crossed legs on a sofa, and slipped a soft tsk. "Well, maybe they did. Kinda. A bit? But I'm fine. We're going to have some fun for a year and simply go our separate ways."
Shoko didn't look half-convinced, seeing the bubble forming in your throat and nervous cuticles picking.
"It's just…" she sighed. "Look, be careful. If they want to find a sugar baby, then that's fine," you grimaced hearing this word, and she continued. "What I'm trying to say is that–"
But before she could finish, a loud knock echoed through your small space. Shoko's eyes widened, lips pressed into a thin line. You were also surprised, as no one was expected at this hour.
"Yuki?" she guessed, but you quickly shook your head. "Shiu?"
A scoff slipped past your lips as you stood up, heading towards the door. "I don't think he would have the courage, after…" When you pulled the handle, your body froze. "Oh."
On the other side, with slightly unsettling smiles, stood Satoru and Suguru. Your new boyfriends. Dressed in neatly fitted suits and fingers gripping the phones.
Something eerie coiled behind their eyes. Something that made your skin crawl with coldness. Sinister, malign, as if the hues of blue and lavender tried to burn a hole in your warmed cheeks, as you look at them with an innocent pout.
And it seemed that Shoko also felt the sudden change in the air, slowly rising from the sofa. Her fingers gripped the phone tighter, eyes never leaving the two men whose aura made her heart beat faster. In a sudden, incomprehensible fear.
Not a second has passed since your cheeks were cupped by Satoru's strong hands. "Sweetheart, are you okay?" he cooed. "Did anything happen?"
Your head shook. "No, but…" Eyes going back and forth between your two boyfriends. "What are you doing here?"
Satoru's fingers combed through your hair, brushing away the stray strands. Soft lips kissed your cheeks, nose, and forehead, checking your face as if you were a porcelain doll.
Suguru stood next to him, curling a lock of your hair around his finger. "You weren't replying to our messages."
"Messages?" you murmured, looking over your shoulder. Your phone lay on a coffee table, screen facing the wooden surface.
Shoko noticed your gaze and picked it up. Her lips fell open, and eyes widened as she looked up at two men in shock. "You–"
"Well…" Suguru gave her an uninterested look before turning back to you. His fingers lifted, brushing a sweet pout that twisted your lips. "We just wanted to see whether you're okay. Please try to reply to our messages from now on," his voice was low yet pleasant, with the heavy scent of expensive cologne radiating from his body slipping into your shabby apartment. "We were simply worried."
You nodded, still feeling somewhat overwhelmed. By their fierce response, the touch that was gentle yet tinged with brutality, and those eyes, trying to conceal the madness beneath a mask of worry.
"Ah, and start packing," Satoru added, chuckling softly. His crystal eyes scanned your apartment, taking in the fresh mould forming next to the fridge and the damp patch on the ceiling from last week's flood caused by the neighbour upstairs. "Someone will pick up your things on Friday."
"Friday?" you barely managed to cough out. "But we just started–"
Suguru's eyes narrowed as his thumb brushed your bubbly lower lip, silencing you. "How can we allow our girl to live in such conditions? Besides, our apartment is closer to your university. Isn't it much more comfortable?"
It wasn't a matter of comfort, but the sole fact that everything was rushing too fast. And with Shoko beaming with fury behind your sweating neck, you could do nothing but nod and try to get rid of them as quickly as possible.
Seeing the sweet obedience lifting your lips, both of them calmed. Deep eyes returned to their familiar warmth, with a cheeky blue, and soft lavender gazing down at you with fondness.
"That's our girl," Satoru smiled and kissed your forehead. His fingers, for the last time, caressed your cheek with a soft brush, before his eyes looked towards Shoko. "We won't be bothering you anymore. Have fun with your friend, sweetheart, and see you tomorrow."
And when the tall, muscular backs finally disappeared around the corridor's corner, you closed the doors with a soft click. Your back hit the wooden surface as you leaned against it and closed your eyes.
As if you had completely forgotten the Shoko, burning a hole in your forehead while still gripping your phone. An awkward silence stretched between your bodies, divided by a simple coffee table, and voices stuck in your clenched throat.
Shoko finally coughed. "How much time has passed since you left their apartment?" The words rolled lowly, with chocolate eyes filled with a mix of anger and worry.
You looked up and sighed. Fingers tapped softly on the door as you bit the inside of your cheeks. "I don't know, an hour? Maybe two?"
She looked down at your glowing screen, closing her eyes with a gentle frown.
"What?" you asked, bouncing off the wooden surface. "What–"
"A hundred and fifty messages," her fingers turned the phone your way, to present a you have 150 unread messages from Satoru <3" and "Suguru".
Hundred and fifty messages.
Hundred. And. Fifty.
In solely two hours, all because you forgot to check your phone.
Her fingers trembled as she held it, eyes trying to read the thoughts coiling inside your mind. Your chest rose and fell with rapid breaths as you took the phone away from them and started looking through the messages.
Knowing how much angrier she would get at seeing their content – radiating possessiveness, obsessiveness, something raw yet loving, sometimes even edged with a threat – you locked the phone and put it back in your pocket.
"Break it off," she decided, her voice low and serious. "Something's wrong. Block them. Now."
Her fingers tried to slip your phone back, but you quickly grabbed her wrist. "Wait, Shoko–"
"Are you fucking kidding me? What do you want to wait for?"
You sighed, trying to calm her down. Your fingers curled around her shoulders, as if gentle shakes could help her cool off. Warm eyes glared at you with fury, and brown hair framed her flushed cheeks. "There's nothing wrong with them. They're just…"
Just what?
"Psychos? Stalkers? Possessed?" she started counting, and you started to feel even worse. "I can go on all day."
Looking back, that silly argument between you two was quite amusing. A few years later, Shoko would still be the only friend hating your husbands, constantly avoiding them and secretly wishing you'd met someone else. They were a bit mad about you, and while a healthy relationship relies on the man loving his woman much more than she loves him, she sensed a danger. Behind those handsome faces and fake smiles, it was as if Satan had crawled from hell, disguised as a simple mortal.
But then, in a shabby, mouldy apartment that hid your fair hearts from the clutches of brutal reality, Shoko could only burst into tears over the solemn fate of her dearest friend. As she truly believed that a horrific curse had plagued your fate, and something deep in her heart warned her of the two devils that had entered your life.
At the mere age of twenty-three, neither of you yet knew how truly ugly and wicked their true faces would reveal themselves to be.
☾ ☾ ☾
You didn't move with them next Friday.
Not even the next, nor the next next, as too soon kept slipping past your lips. As dissatisfied as they were, they didn't want to force anything on you.
Maybe you didn't live together, but you still spent half the week at their place, cherishing the silk linens against your skin and the always-full fridge, so different from the half-moulded bread and sour milk in yours.
They took you out to lavish dinners each weekend, and something warm spread across your chest as you watched them proudly show you off. Their beautiful, sweet girlfriend always got the princess treatment she deserved, followed by two beastly bodyguards who kept a watchful eye on every curious glance your way.
And as you soon discovered, nothing made Suguru and Satoru happier than your requests.
Beginning with simple requests like, "Can you please order something for me?" during your weekly date, and ending with something much bolder as, "How about you buy me an apartment?"
Their eyes always shimmered with excitement, lips curving teasingly, causing a lovely giggle to escape your lips. Oh, how you loved to make them happy with your bold desires, watching as they eagerly fulfilled all your mischievous whims.
Going abroad? No problem, your tickets were ready the next day.
Those adorable yet pricey cakes, resembling real fruits and only available on another continent? No sweat, you'd have them as a dessert after dinner the following day.
Asking for anything was effortless, as if they were just waiting for your requests, even the most silly ones. Sometimes you'd push the limits, requesting bizarre gifts you thought impossible to obtain even for them – the only signed copy of your favourite novel, a limited-edition bag sold only in five copies, tickets to a concert that sold out instantly.
At some point, you stopped challenging them when a second wardrobe had to be bought to accommodate all your silly wishes.
The question of their work remained something of a mystery, as neither of them was honest about what they did. You could see it in the way they always avoided your questions with a simple "just a simple CEO position", as if being a CEO were already something simple.
"So what exactly do you do?" you asked during one of those evenings spent in their apartment.
With three glasses of wine, sweet and full, and your body splayed on the sofa. Head resting on Satoru's thighs, feet cradled in Suguru's skilful fingers. The film long forgotten, you stared up at Satoru's crystal eyes from above your lashes, shimmering with that familiar cheekiness you learnt to truly adore.
"Just boring paperwork," he chirped, running his fingers through your hair. A soft, cat-like hum slipped past your lips as he began to circle your temples. "Sweetheart, it's nothing special, really. Meetings with stakeholders, simple office work, more meetings, more office work…"
"Yeah, I get it, but– Auch!" Suguru's fingers pinched your thigh, and you jerked under his touch. "What was it for?"
Leaning over your legs, he kissed the pulsing spot and drew another giggle from your throat. "For being too curious, darling. Stop asking questions you shouldn't know."
But the thing was – you didn't know why.
Why did any discussion about their jobs feel off-limits? And why did something ominous flicker behind their eyes whenever you provoked them?
So at some point, you simply stopped asking. The whole CEO thing was credible enough to justify the weekly cash they spent solely on your little pleasure.
The amount they've spent on a… traditional Japanese house.
Just on the outskirts of Tokyo.
"Absolutely not," you gasped, watching the golden beams of sunlight spill across the wooden floor. The kitchen was bathed in warmth, with dark counters and vintage cutlery gleaming silver. Long hallways lined with windows swept over the deep forest, and a living room overlooked the garden. "You're joking!"
Both of them chuckled as they watched you dash happily from one place to another. Barefoot, you skidded across the new wooden floor, while the pine scent filled the house with a fresh aroma. Another scream escaped your lips as you spotted a large bathtub set into the floor.
"It could fit a horse!" you shouted from the bathroom as they followed you at a slow pace. Your head peeked out from the doorway, several strands of hair sticking to your blissfully flushed cheeks. "Can we get the horse? No, maybe a whole farm? I’ve always wanted a pet cow." Before Suguru could speak, you quickly added, "No, I'm joking. I know you would be able to do it."
So he only chuckled, brushing away loose strands. Lavender warmth set your heart ablaze, and you nuzzled into his hand as a big thumb gently traced your cheeks.
"Does it mean you agree?"
A pout twisted your lips, and deep thought creased a soft forehead. "It's so far from the centre."
And it's been just two months, you wanted to add, but you knew there’s no such thing as too short for them. If you had kept up with their pace, a lovely wedding band would already be on your finger.
Satoru leaned against the doorframe, crossing muscular arms on his chest. Still dressed in suits, you found it impossible to look directly into his eyes. Instead, your gaze drifted between his broad back and the white shirt clinging to his chest, as if you wouldn't be the one unbuttoning it just minutes later.
Your fingers settled on Suguru's chest, your face sulking sweetly as you looked up at him. He chuckled, taking in the little, cheeky shimmer dancing in your gaze. "Nanami will drive you every day."
"Does Nanami know about it?" you asked, believing that the blonde man had much more interesting things to do than driving your ass back and forth between the house and the university.
Suguru's lips curled as the end of his long black hair tickled your cheeks. "Nanami works for us, darling. He'll wait for you under the university for a whole day if we order him to."
Poor Nanami, you thought before finally nodding your head. At first, slowly, only to wrap your arms around Suguru and nuzzle into his warm chest and bounce like a little birdie on your toes.
"Is that a yes?" Satoru smiled, drinking in the soft giggle that slipped past your lips.
Suguru's arms curled around your body, and as you looked between the lavender and blue hues, waiting patiently for your answer. "Yes! Let's move in."
A sudden wave of wet smooches landed on your cheeks, nose, forehead, and lips, and soft thank you, thank you, thank you filled the warm corridors of your new house. The love bounced off the wooden doors as they led you towards the bright living room, with a large table coated in morning kisses of sunshine and long, golden rays dancing across your euphoric face.
The house tour lasted far longer than it was supposed to, as your panties soon found their way onto the floor and summer dress curled around your plush hips. With thighs spread wide, honeyed moans slipped past your lips and head lulled back as you watched, with a hazy gaze, two of your boyfriends slurping messily on your dripping pussy. With three fingers already in and soft pads rubbing the plump spot that made your toes curl.
"W-We, ahhh, we haven't even moved y-yet," a cry rolled in pleasure, feeling Suguru's lips sucking gently on your clit. "Mmmmm."
Satoru spat hefty on your folds, pushing saliva right into your fluttering hole. "We need to bless our house, sweetheart," he chuckled, feeling your walls clench on his fingers.
And so they worked you for half the afternoon, with your belly pressed to the wooden table, knees spread right under your trembling hips and their cocks, one after another, filling you to the brim. Till the mix of your milky cums dripped down the freshly polished floor and reddish marks coated the full length of your spine.
Rough pads of their dug deep into the fat of your ass, soft breasts, spreading your drenched folds and keeping you nicely in place, as muscular chests loomed over your poor, blubbering body splayed on the table.
Two days later, you officially moved in.
And with you, a dozen other people.
Maids, bodyguards, and errand boys lingered outside the heavy doors day and night, securing the house hidden deep in the woods and always at the snap of your fingers. You didn't understand it at first, why you'd never seen all those people while staying in the apartment.
Tall men dressed in black always guarded the front doors, as if the runaway criminals were ready to burst through them any second. Each morning, on your way to the university, you gave them a small nod, although it seemed none of them were keen to chat.
None, apart from the two youngest, who always enjoyed the brief small talk and walked you straight to Nanami's car.
"Yuji, you don't have to do it," you laughed, as the young boy kept you company through the mere few meters stretching between the house's main doors and garage. "The car is right here."
"That was the order, madam," a lower voice slipped in as Megumi opened the doors for you.
You giggled, looking at two completely different yet lovely boys. "Well, I didn't know CEOs needed such high security. It seems Satoru and Suguru are rather crazy about their safety," you said, putting the bags in the back seat.
Nanami was already inside, waiting until you climbed into the car. Seven a.m. did neither of you any good, seeing how tired he truly looked.
"Only your safety, madam," Yuji chirped in, with a shiny smile beaming off his face. "They care about you a lot."
A slight grimace sliced across your face as your fingers gripped the bag's straps tighter. "I can see. Although I think the whole…" You looked around, gesturing to all the people who lived in your house during the day. "Is a bit too much, isn't it?"
But they didn't say anything. In fact, they barely spoke about Satoru and Suguru, particularly their work. All you needed to know was that their position was high and important enough to hire a bunch of bodyguards to guard your house like trained dogs.
And so you stayed with them, within the warm wooden walls of your new house, enjoying the endless idyllic feeling that had settled beneath your chest. You spent your days studying, meeting girls and having fun in town, with evenings always reserved for nuzzling into their muscular chests and breathing in the heavy scent of cologne.
Although the questions still lingered deep inside your mind – doubts and anxieties that rose in your throat – you kept your mouth shut, and lips pursed. You couldn't share your concerns with Shoko, as her tears still dampened the memories of that evening, and she questioned your relationship from the very start.
Your decision to move in felt like a pure betrayal, and thus, she could do nothing but watch in fear and concern as her beloved friend was willingly entering the devil's domain.
And so you stayed alone, with your head trying to wrap around all the little vexes that gave you sleepless nights.
As to why the doors needed multiple locks, and why did some rooms remain out of your reach? Why couldn't you just take a short walk in a nearby forest, and why did at least two bodyguards always seem to follow you around the city?
Why was the basement always locked, and why was no key ever found anywhere in the house? As if Satoru and Suguru always carried it with them.
One day, as you crossed the hallway, you saw Satoru walking out of the basement, wiping his hands with a cloth. Pitch darkness filled the small room behind him, and thus, you couldn't see anything except wooden stairs leading down into damp, cold darkness.
Crystal eyes crossed with yours, and for a mere, short second, you saw a flicker of shock filling his gaze. Milky strands moved together with his tilted head, and fingers gripped the cloth tighter. Crimson droplets decorated the white material, and so you gasped, quickly grabbing his hands.
"What happened? Are you alright?" A worry lingered in your voice, as you've noticed the last hues of red painting his digits. "Did you hurt yourself?"
He stayed quiet for a few minutes, ogling carefully your forehead creased in care. So sweet and innocent.
You could feel his heavy gaze burning a hole through your skull. The air seemed to thicken, as if licked by sudden cold, but when you looked up, you met only Satoru's loving gaze.
"Are you that worried about me, sweetheart?" he chirped, pulling his hands away from yours. "Why are you here? I thought you had a morning class?"
"It got moved for the afternoon," a sigh rolled past your lips, as you lifted your hand to trace the crimson droplet coating his milky cheek. "Is that blood? Have you killed someone down there?" you joked, and yet he could only smile faintly and nuzzle into your soft touch.
"Don't worry, I cut my fingers on something, probably while moving boxes," he chirped, kissing your palm. "All your Christmas decorations are quite heavy."
A low hum escaped your throat as you brushed away the rest of the blood. Weird, you thought, watching the dark liquid dry even on the strands of milky hair.
"Well, Suguru said I can order whatever I want."
"Is that why we have a two-meter Santa for our garden?" his eyes shimmered with slyness as his fingers curled around your waist, pulling you in. A pout twisted your lips, and he chuckled, kissing you softly. "I'm joking. Go now for your classes and stop worrying," he pinched your ass, rolling another sweet giggle from your lips. "And buy me those blueberry buns on your way back."
"But the line takes ages!" you groaned, wriggling in his arms. This time, a sweet pout twisted his lips, and so you could simply sigh and peck his cheek. "Fine, but tell Suguru not to be mad if I come back later than usual."
He let you slip out of his arms, softly slapping your butt as you walked away.
But even months, years later, that moment never truly faded from your memory. Every time you passed by the basement, it was as if the image of his crimson hands overwhelmed you, bringing with it an uncanny sensation. His eyes, calm yet tinged with something strange. The droplets of blood on his hands, cheeks, and neck, as if it wasn't just a simple cut.
His hands, which you looked at for mere two seconds before he slipped them away – clean and free of any wounds, even the smallest.
And sometimes, on days when they were working and you could walk freely around the house without bodyguards breathing down your neck, you would gaze at the basement door. Long and silent, as if trying to see through the thick wooden surface.
Sometimes your fingers would brush the handle, but only lightly, afraid your boyfriends could see you anywhere near those doors.
On nights when they needed to stay at the office longer, you would sit down, back pressed against the cold wood, ear attuned to every faint sound. Murmured voices, coughs, muffled cries, so quiet, almost impossible to hear. But you did hear them then, and for the next few years wondered what was inside.
Until the unfortunate day you finally slipped inside and chose to care for yourself and your unborn child, away from your husbands. In the arms of a man whose crimson, rough eyes were ready to save you from their deadly clutches.
So many surprises for people who read the previous version heheh
𝕔𝕠𝕟𝕥𝕖𝕟𝕥 : 𝟙𝟠+ ⋆ 𝕞𝕕𝕟𝕚 ⋆ smut ⋆ bully!satosugu again ⋆ dubcon voyeurism ⋆ piv sex ⋆ degrading ⋆ humiliation ⋆ slight jealousy ⋆ voyeur!choso ⋆ creampie ⋆ cunnilingus if you squint ⋆
𝕨𝕔 ⋆ 2.5k
choso. sweet, kind, funny, shy choso. your lab partner with an obvious crush on you choso. standing frozen in the doorway to your dorm room, blocked by satoru as he watches suguru rock you back and forth on his cock from below.
you didn’t even hear the door open, you don’t know how long he’s been standing there watching your pussy gush around suguru’s cock, listening to your gasps of his name, only alerted to his presence when suguru pressed his mouth to your ear and told you, “look up, gorgeous.”
your eyes widen when they lock on his, the airy feeling in your head faltering, making you crash back to earth, mortified. you’re not surprised to see satoru behind him, a sinister smile on his face as he watches the horror spread across yours.
you can’t even try to regain a bit of modesty, suguru’s single hand holding both your wrists behind you, back arched, nipples peaked and shiny with suguru’s saliva. he doesn’t stop either, seeming to get rougher, forcing you to keep taking it despite the scene playing out.
“sugu—suguru w-wait—what is—why—oh fuck—“
your eyes roll, trying to flutter shut when suguru grinds you harder against him but you keep them open just enough to see satoru prevent choso from turning around and leaving, shoving him so hard into the room he stumbles before the door clicks shut and locks behind them.
he slings an arm around choso’s cowering form, shooting you an award winning smile while you try to throw him a pleading look through lidded eyes. you stifle your whines as suguru’s cock glides so sweetly along your walls, trying to tug your wrists free from his grip.
“why—why is—suguru, please, shit—“ you try to ask, but any attempt at speaking is stopped by suguru pressing his cock deep enough into your pussy to make your breath catch in your throat.
“what was that?” satoru shakes choso’s shoulders, throwing a malicious glance his way. “we can’t hear you, isn’t that right, choso?”
choso doesn’t respond, his gaze stuck on the floor. but it doesn’t hide the pink tint to his cheeks, the tremble of his shoulders as he inhales shakily, or the fidget of his hands conveniently in front of the tent on his pants.
“don’t—‘toru, don’t do this, please—ah!”
suguru’s unoccupied hand moved silently while you were trying to speak, starting to rub at the swollen pink nub between your spread thighs, shutting you up once more. your mouth hangs open, keening despite your best efforts, choso tensing. you try to catch his eye, to paint a sorrowful expression on your face in apology, but he won’t look at you.
“can’t speak, huh? suguru, do you know what she’s trying to say?”
you can feel his hum, the vibration steady against your back as he pretends to mull over satoru’s question. his chin finds its way to your shoulder, his hair tickling your bare skin as he finally stops rocking your hips, your cunt clenching furiously around his cock, overwhelmed with the fullness.
“well,” his finger has stopped swirling around your clit, now tapping a steady, wet rhythm on it and you twitch each time, not going unnoticed by the three men occupying the room. “i think she wants to know why we have an audience, ‘toru.”
mock realization covers satoru’s face, his mouth forming an ‘o’ shape. he lightly punches choso in the arm, the man jerking violently at the touch.
“this, is choso kamo. you know him right, pretty?”
“yes, i know him,” your teeth grind together as you speak through them, still wiggling your wrists despite suguru’s firm hold. “why is he here? what are you—“
“you know he likes you right?” gojo interrupts, tongue trailing his bottom lip cockily as he pushes choso forward, closer to you, the later hanging his head in embarrassment. “a big fat crush, suguru. didn't even have to tell me. could see it from a mile away.”
“oh?” the soft sound brushes the side of your face, a fake sound of surprise, because you know they both knew. when satoru cornered him earlier this week, you should’ve known. when they kept asking you about him, you should’ve known they were up to no good. “i’m assuming she knew?”
“probably not, you know our girl isn’t that smart outside of class,” satoru hums, ignoring your indignant cry of not being theirs. he takes two long steps to be at choso’s side again, nudging the man with his shoulder. “but anyway. i decided to offer him some friendly advice. let him know what our girl likes. give him some pointers.”
you scoff, trying ease the tension in the room but your body is still on display for all to see. but your voice holds steady when you speak to satoru. “bringing him here—now—isn’t offering advice, you idiot—“
“but then i was thinking,” he talks loudly over you, closing the distance, gripping your chin between his fingers and craning your face up as he leans down, the tip of his nose brushing yours. “we can show him better than we can tell him, right, pretty?”
you feel the blood drain from your face as your eyes dart back and forth between satoru and choso behind him, still intently staring at the floor. suguru huffs out a breath of amusement behind you, his finger running absentmindedly up and down your slit, catching on your still full hole.
“always one for stupid ideas, satoru.”
“oh, please,” satoru stands up straight, bright eyes roaming over the disheveled state of you and suguru. “you told me to bring him here 20 minutes ago, so i did. don’t pin it all on me.”
your head whips around to throw suguru a sour look, but he just grins.
“you two are sick,” your voice shakes with embarrassment, ignoring the heat coursing through your body. “choso, you can leave. you don’t have to stay.”
“i-i don’t—“ his voice is just barely a whisper, but satoru cuts him off.
“but he doesn’t want to leave, does he?” satoru turns and walks the short distance back to choso, standing in front of him, forcing the man to finally bring his gaze up. “he can stay and we can show him exactly what you like. suguru?”
suguru releases your wrists as if on command, but before you can retaliate he’s gripped you underneath your knees, the press of his chest leaving your back as he lies down behind you and your eyes widen, grabbing at his arms.
“you gotta relax. consider it doing him a favor.” you crane your neck, seeing the smile that was clear in suguru’s voice as you take in the spread of hair across the pillow, his mischievous eyes looking over to where satoru is staring a shocked choso down in silence.
“hurry up and decide, i don’t care.” both satoru and choso look to suguru as he speaks, but you’re preoccupied with suguru pulling you to lay on his chest and bending his knees, pulling his cock almost completely from your entrance slowly, your cunt spasming as it tries to keep him in.
“suguru, hold on—“
“i suggest you take the opportunity, choso, because you’ll never get another one like this again.”
choso’s mouth drops open at the same time as yours, a whistle passing through satoru’s pursed lips when suguru buries himself to the hilt inside you, making you exhale sharply. he sets a quick pace instantly, any retort dying in your mouth.
the slight taste of iron paints your tongue as you bite your bottom lip in an effort to keep a pathetic expression off your face, fingernails digging crescents into suguru’s skin so roughly he hisses underneath you. you shut your eyes in concentration as suguru fucks you how he wants, but satoru decides to speak, forcing your gaze to him.
“see, this is my favorite position to have her in.” he speaks like he’s talking about the weather. you would think he’s kept his composure through it all if the bright blue irises of his eyes weren’t reduced to a thin line due to his pupils. “easy access for me from the front if suguru’s behind or vice versa, you know.”
tears brim your eyes, clouding your vision but it’s still clear that you now have choso’s undivided attention. his mouth closed but his breath is just as heavy as yours, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. satoru seems amused by the reaction, sparing him the occasional glance.
“sat-satoru—why are y-you so d-damn—fuckfuckfuck—“
your head falls back on suguru’s shoulder with a silent cry and satoru actually laughs out loud. the mocking sound mixed with the slap of your and suguru’s skin as well as the ragged groans coming from behind you makes your eyes roll, giving into the pleasure—
“she cries really pretty when we fuck her like this, gets real needy too,” satoru’s lewd stage whisper makes your head swim. choso swallows hard, not blinking as he takes in the view and satoru’s words. “but suguru can’t do it on his own so you won’t be able to see it. shame.”
suguru grunts and adjusts his grip on you, plunging his cock deeper. you struggle to catch your breath, still restraining yourself despite suguru’s effort, his annoyance bleeding through his thrusts.
“she’s holding—shit—holding b-back, genius.” he stutters as your cunt flutters around him, getting impossibly tighter as your stomach twists, aroused by the embarrassment. “you want her to put on a good show? come over here.”
satoru beams, blue eyes shining, taking the few steps to be back at your side, dragging choso with him. you shake your head, sick pleasure and guilt battling inside as you watch choso focus his attention on your cunt and the way satoru slides his fingers through the slick mess.
“'m not gonna put my mouth on you, pretty, not this time. hope that’s ok.”
you fight to fill your lungs as his finger swirls small circles on your puffy clit, eyes finally falling shut completely as you accept defeat. a soft cry of satoru’s name passes through your lips as you release suguru’s arm to grab at his wrist, keeping his hand between your legs.
“hear that? so sweet when she lets herself feel it,” satoru coos. shaky moans continue to fall from your mouth between hiccups and gasps of breath, your body now completely pliant and growing more sensitive between their touches.
“fuck, keep doing that,” suguru groans darkly directly into your ear, the sound sending a shock down your spine. “there you go, gorgeous. squeeze—ah—around me just like that.”
“don’t apologize to him, you probably just made his whole year,” satoru laughs, looking over his shoulder to see choso murmuring swears under his breath before he turns back to you. “she’s just dripping down here, suguru. do you hear her? think she’s gonna cum soon.”
a tear falls from the corner of your eye as suguru starts driving his cock into that spongy spot that makes you melt against him, toes curling as he chases your orgasm more desperately than his own. satoru brings his other hand to fondle at your breasts, tweaking your nipples between his fingertips.
“our friend here is really eager to see it, isn’t he gorgeous?”
your soft cries have turned obscene, intensifying as your orgasm creeps up on you. you almost forget where you are, who’s here until he’s moving closer, choso’s glassy eyes unblinking as they roam over your writhing form.
“can you blame him? she looks so good when she’s crying for us,” satoru bites his lip, restraint waning as you back bends away from suguru’s chest. “wish i could feel it, suguru. fuck, how does it feel, pretty?”
you don’t answer—can’t—babbling incoherently with the occasional gasps of their names as white creeps up the corners of your vision. you can’t deny the jolt of electricity as you barely catch choso’s eye, the previously unwanted attention pushing you faster to your release.
“c-close—fuck, ‘m gonna—“
“say his name, gorgeous,” suguru rasps from behind, satoru and choso sharing equal expressions of shock at his words. you hardly register them as your orgasm hits you. “give him something speacial to remember.”
you shatter around suguru’s cock, spilling so much that satoru gasps. your eyes fall shut and a wail of choso’s name escapes you unconsciously, choso’s strangled gasp of “holy shit,” drowned out by the sound. your head is fuzzy, emptied of all thoughts while you try your best to grind down on suguru’s cock.
“suguru, i’m gonna fucking kill you,” satoru’s voice is strained, finger still working your clit furiously. “that’s it, baby, ride it out. she’s fucking soaking you, suguru, oh my god. fill her up, i wanna see, c’mon.”
suguru’s hips jerk erratically, rhythm faltering as satoru’s words wash over him. his fingers press bruises into your skin, his cock throbbing inside you before warmth floods your cunt in separate waves, a dark groan accompanying suguru’s release.
“satoru you gotta stop saying shit like that,” suguru whispers breathlessly, still easing his cock in and out of you, pushing both of you past the point of sensitivity. he stills with his cock just barely inside, letting his release drip out of your cunt around his shaft to satoru’s obvious pleasure.
suguru catches his breath against your ear as satoru swipes a finger up his messy cock, gathering his cum and pushing it just past suguru’s cock and back inside you. whining, you fumble to push his hand away, the press of his searching fingers against your walls to much to bear.
“and she loves it when we cum inside her,” satoru explains, taking suguru’s softening cock in hand and slapping it back against your entrance. “it gets so messy and then i get to—hey, where’d he go?”
it takes all your strength to open your eyes to find the space choso had just occupied a minute ago vacant, the door cracked just slightly where he didn’t shut it completely in his escape.
“think he came in his pants when she said his name and ran while we were distracted,” suguru explains, slowly straightening your legs to ease the ache he knows will come.
“oh. oh, well. hopefully he got the hint!”
the guilt from the situation comes back full force as you regain your ability to think clearly and your stomach falls. “how the fuck am i gonna face him now, you two?” you groan, trying to twist your tired body away from the two of them.
satotu tuts and holds you still against suguru’s chest, opening your legs again, hungry eyes trained on your cunt as he climbs on your bed.
“not our problem, is it?” he asks. you glare at him, faltering when he flicks your sensitive clit. “now be still, gonna clean you guys up, ok?”
“satoru, no—my fucking god,” your thighs tremble around his head as he flattens his tongue on your entrance, dragging it upwards, eyes closed with satisfaction at the combined taste of you and suguru.
“at least close the door, satoru,” comes suguru’s tired murmur, arms wrapped around your stomach, holding you close while satoru finally has his way with you.
“no, i’m good right here,” he says into your folds, lips already shiny with your arousal. “let someone else come in and i’ll show them how to make you cum on my tongue, ok pretty?”
I've always wanted to write a proper horror siren au!!!!
(warnings: yandere, dark, past implied deaths, etc etc)
Life at the lighthouse was a solitary one. Most days consisted of your trustworthy radio blaring out whatever was the most popular. Not many visited your little island. You were always a loner, so you didn't mind the lack of human contact. The pay for occasionally shifting gears around was pretty good. You could do this forever as long as you followed the rules.
Rule number one: never abandon your post.
Rule number two: never shut off the lighthouse.
Rule number three: never get into the water.
The first two were reasonable. The last one perplexed you for the first few days. The island hosted a scenic beach, filled with white sand and blue water. Taking a dip in the ocean after a long day sounded harmless.
And then, those things came along.
Strikingly beautiful. Glistening hair and skin. Bright eyes. Sharp teeth. Fins and scales all over their bodies. Long tails that move powerfully through the water. Utterly inhuman.
Two of them. They knew your language, perhaps through eating whoever you replaced-whoever hadn't followed the rules.
You learned their names unwillingly.
Satoru was the more playful of the two. He'd coo and titter whenever the moon was full and luminous, illuminating the darkened waters. He's more talkative out of the duo. His smile is filled with fangs, eager for a bite as he speaks to you with coaxing words, begging you to come out into the water.
Suguru is more docile, at least, that's what you initially assumed. His voice is quiet, deep, and gentle. His words and eyes are patronizing. He looks at you like he's almost impressed you've lasted this long with them in the waters.
You are the longest lighthouse resident. You haven't quit or 'disappeared' into the sea. You think your resistance for staying this long is something they are quietly influenced by. These recent months, something has changed between them. They look at you less like you're a meal and more like...you don't want to think about it for too long.
Their only redeeming quality is their singing: Low and soft and sweet. Utterly enchanting and beautiful like a well-refined orchestra. You know the song they play is for you, so you can inch closer to the water, let them pull you into their depths. Some nights, you turn off your radio and listen to their melodies.
The lighthouse hinders them somehow. It stops their music from fully entrancing you and forcing you to follow their song into the sea. At least, that's what the notes from the past residents tell you-the only remnant left of their presence.
You follow their teachings. You never abandon the lighthouse, you never shut it off, and you never dare to go into the water.
You were preparing another bland dinner when you saw her from your cabin.
She was bobbing just on the surface of the water. You stare at the glimpses the ocean gives you. Glimpses of brown hair. No fins. No scales that dazzled under the moonlight.
A human.
A human drowning.
You waste no time. You fly out the cabin with a ring buoy firmly tucked underneath your arm. The wind rushes past your face as you race to the sea. You run and run as questions swirl through your head. How did a human girl get out here? How was she still alive? Was there a shipwreck you weren't aware of?
How long did you have until those two noticed she's also out there?
You stop right at the shallow cliff, right where the water laps at the rocks. You yell to grab her attention before you through the ring buoy.
"Grab on!" You urge, wildly looking back and forth in the water. The ocean was silent. Those creatures weren't out there.
Or maybe they were waiting for the right moment.
Her hand snags on the firm ring and she grabs at it. Good. At least she has some strength left.
"Help." Her voice is soft and almost drowning within the ocean. "Please help me."
"You're okay." You try to assure, hoping your voice is calm and not completely frazzled. "Just come closer. I got you."
She was seconds away from being dragged inside by sharp claws, but you didn't want to make her panic anymore than she already was. You didn't think. The buoy floats closer and she reaches out her hand to yours. Thoughtlessly, you mirror her. You try to swipe at her hand, wanting to bring her up to safety. You grasp at her finger, barely managing to touch her palm.
The lighthouse began its next rotation at that moment. The light drifted over the ocean, over the rocks, over the cliff, and over her.
Whatever mirage she puts on herself melts away.
No part of her is human–you doubted she ever was. Fins frame either side of her face. Golden brown eyes stare straight into your soul.
You stagger back, falling on the grass as you crawl away from the monster. Her visage changes as soon as she picks up on your terrified expression. You watch as she inspects the hand you touched.
“That’s a shame, I almost had you.” She sighs, the tremor in her voice gone. Now her tone is bored, laced with the tiniest hint of amusement.
“You’re so soft.” She breathes out, before her gaze locks back onto yours. “I wonder how other parts of you feel.”
The adrenaline withers from your veins. You helplessly stare at her as the other two show up. Of course they were around. They were just waiting to drop the charade.
“You were so close, Shoko!” Satoru chirps, utterly thrilled by the trick.
“It was just a matter of bad luck.” Suguru agrees, casting his gaze onto your limb form. He tilts his head.
“For whatever reason, this one always has the ability to get away at just the right moment. Very irritating.” He smiles with glinting teeth. He loves it. He loves the game he plays with you every night.
You grit your teeth. “Fuck you.” You hiss at all three of them. Your harsh words couldn’t snuff out the tremor in your voice. It does nothing. If anything it eggs them on, considering how widely Satoru smiled.
“You’re so cute.” He awed, like you were some hissing kitten.
They were all sick. Inwardly, you curse at yourself for being so stupid. There was never a human drowning. You were an idiot for letting yourself think it was anything but a trick. Like they would ever miss their chance for an easy meal.
You shakingly get to your feet and make your way back to your cabin. Satoru whines at your retreat.
“Leaving so soon?” He calls. “Come back, let’s talk some more!”
“Don’t you want to get to know your new friend?” Suguru calls out. You ignore him.
You don’t have to worry about them, you tell yourself over and over again. As long as you follow the rules, you’ll never disappear. You can make it through your post as long as you follow the rules.
“The lighthouse won’t hold up forever.”
That makes you stop.
Shoko grins at your hesitance.
“It’s old.” She shrugs. “Anything can happen: a bad storm, broken circuits, or…it’ll just go out one day. That’s how we got the others.”
You stare at her. She never breaks her gaze.
“Don’t worry. You’re not like the others.” Her teeth glint. “When we finally have you, we’ll keep you.”
You run. You don’t stop until you’re back in the cabin. Your breaths are ragged and heavy as you latch the door shut behind you, barricading yourself. It’s a false sense of safety. The only real security was the lighthouse.
You stare up at the lighthouse as it towers over your meager cabin. The light was swirling and strong. She was lying to you. She was messing with you–trying to put meaningless paranoia in your head. The lighthouse has been standing for nearly a century. It was always there. You constantly checked its circuitry and fixed up whatever seemed the slightest bit out of order. It was just another trick.
Their song starts up again. You could hear a new voice added to the chorus. Their voices were just as beautiful and enchanting as all the other days.
Dick was certain he could apologize until his voice gave out and it still wouldn’t be enough. Looking back on everything that had happened so far, he’d had many, many chances to make things right…
It’s just that he never wanted to.
Whether it was shame, or because he genuinely forgot about your existence from time to time…
He always assumed someone would be there for you. Maybe Alfred. Or maybe anyone else in this manor. And he told himself that was already far more than what he had at your age, when he first arrived at the mansion.
He remembered how lonely it was to be here…
Having to deal with the loss of your parents and crime simultaneously, while not having anyone you truly trusted enough to vent to. The boys at school saw him as a way to get close to the Waynes, and the girls only saw his looks and charisma; they only saw Dickie Grayson, never Richard, and certainly never Robin.
Alfred was a good listener, but sometimes Dick felt like his personal drama clashed against the gravity of fighting crime… Alfred was a good man, but not a perfect one, especially in the early years. So Dick decided not to burden the butler with more responsibilities than he already had and saved those personal conversations for his pillow instead.
And B was about as emotionally available as a clam, so those topics weren’t even worth discussing.
Well…
Actually, Bruce had been someone he could rely on when it came to his parents. Orphan to orphan, you know?
Heart to heart.
Even though Brucie and Batman weren’t exactly the ideal company for a teenager carrying as many problems as he was, Dick had never truly felt… unhappy. With Bruce, Richard felt understood. Those problems, that anger… Bruce had helped him transform it into justice. Looking back now, maybe Bruce had been the right adult for him after all.
And then his longing for companionship stopped being a longing altogether once the Teen Titans were formed. With his friends—especially Wally—he finally felt understood in every sense of the word. Every facet that made up his identity, he could openly share with his friend, sometimes complaining about it, other times turning terrible experiences into jokes they laughed through together. He felt happy knowing someone else carried the same problems, the same emotional and philosophical resonance as him.
Without them, Dick wasn’t sure he would be the person he was today.
Maybe that was why, when he sought growth both as a person and as a hero, he chose them instead of Batman.
Even so, when Jason arrived and the conflict with Bruce still hadn’t been resolved, Dick knew he could become the figure he had once wished for while he was Robin; an older brother.
And that’s how it went, one after another. He liked to think he had a positive influence on people—that he even inspired them.
Maybe that was why, when he returned to his life in Blüdhaven, he never truly worried about you. To him, you were just a civilian little girl in one of the most extraordinary families in the world.
A family he had helped build.
He knew you were more like them than anyone realized. He believed you could find in them what he found in the Titans.
How wrong he was.
“I don’t understand what’s so wrong with me…”
Nothing, Dick wanted to answer. Nothing was wrong with you. They were the ones who needed to change. You were imperfectly perfect exactly as you were.
“Nobody wants to spend time with me… I try so hard to be useful, to not be a burden…”
You weren’t… You were never a burden. They barely even spent five minutes with you—how could you possibly be one…?
God.
When Damian confessed everything he had done, merely imagining it had already been shocking. But now, seeing it firsthand, hearing it come from you through those videos…
The damage was irreparable.
The accusations. The mistreatment. The rejection. Even the physical violence…
All of those things happened to you inside your own home.
How were they any different from Tim’s parents? From bastards like Lex? Or even Ivy?
How could they call themselves vigilantes while committing these kinds of abuses under their own roof?
If Alfred hadn’t come back and confessed the situation, none of them would have even asked about you by now.
Even him. Even when the thought of seeing you crossed his mind, it never became more than that—a thought. It never evolved into a desire or a longing; it remained fleeting and insignificant.
Alfred was right. How could Dick blame him for keeping quiet when their own actions had proven, time and time again, that none of them truly considered you family?
As far as Alfred was concerned, he was your only family.
And he wasn’t wrong.
And that enraged him.
This wasn’t the first time Dick had dealt with the news of a sibling dead or missing. But contrary to how he imagined he’d react, there was no overwhelming immediate grief.
He didn’t collapse into tears like he had with Jason, nor did he feel the urge to isolate himself and process things the way he did when Bruce disappeared for a time.
He only felt… helpless.
Because there was no Joker he could beat bloody once the pressure became unbearable. No hope that you’d suddenly reappear and reclaim your place in the family. No protocol to follow until signs of life emerged.
He wasn’t prepared to deal with his sister’s blood on his hands.
He couldn’t keep looking away just because he didn’t like what he saw anymore. The truth was that he had cooperated in his sister’s suicide, both directly and indirectly, and he wasn’t ready to confront what that truly meant.
Two years of dating, three years of marriage. You, Suguru and Satoru – a match made in heaven, most people could be jealous of. You loved each other so deeply that it almost hurt. Although... sometimes their love felt a little too tight. A little too consuming. But that's what true devotion looked like, right? You’re still wondering, while packing the suitcases with tears running down your cheeks.
masterlist
pairings: Satosugu x Reader
content/warnings: MDNI 18+, marriage, husband Geto Suguru x reader, husband Gojo Satoru x reader, Satosugu, yandere, stalking, obsessive behaviour, possessive behaviour, dark romance, pregnancy, kinda babytrapping, anything but healthy relationship, HEAVY smut, HEAVY breeding kink, if I put this tag it'll be a spoiler, manipulation, guilt-tripping, age gap, violence
WC: 5.5k
a/n: I didn't expect the first chapter to receive so much love, thank you dearly! I really hope you'll also love this one (we have the first smut, hehe)
art by kkatsujii
──── Chapter Two
You didn’t go to the university on Monday.
Not because of them, but because you fell ill and stayed at home for the following two days. There was no need to overthink their words, as it was simply unrealistic to expect them to come pick you up without knowing your university's address or your course schedule.
But on the same day, when your phone lit up with the name "Satoru <3", your heart leaped into your throat.
Hey sweetheart, shouldn’t you finish your classes by now?
Your head buzzed, eyes were glossy from the clogged nose, and the last thing you wanted was to deal with those two strange men.
Got sick, stayed at home. How do you know my university’s address?
The answer came not even a second later.
Poor baby, do you need anything? Want us to visit with Suguru? As for the address, your student ID fell out of your bag ;)
"Shit," you murmured, quickly grabbing the purse lying near your bed.
It had everything you could imagine, except for this small, plastic card that you must have lost. And they, as two smart men, decided to use it as leverage.
You giggled under your nose, immediately pushing away all the dark thoughts coiling in your head. They were a bit strange, true, but not in the way you accused them of.
And thus, something in your heart throbbed. You weren’t sure if it was due to the baby or the genuine care shining through his message. Shiu, or your "boyfriend," didn’t mind when you said you couldn’t go out today, yet those two strangers were willing to abandon everything else just to look after you.
That’s very sweet of you, thank you :) I’m good tho, my boyfriend is taking care of me!
Little liar.
You felt guilty, but something in your gut told you that they would be more than eager to come over. Even as your mind calmed somewhat, they still remained no one but just two strangers, whose presence curled around your skin in an eerie manner.
You still could feel it. Them.
Suguru’s eyes glancing carefully around at your warm face, Satoru’s fingers resting gently on your back.
You could still smell the strong perfumes clinging to their skin and lower voices tickling your ears. There was something intimate in the way they talked to you, and that’s why you felt so pulled towards them. Although you shouldn’t.
Definitely shouldn’t.
Over the next week, your phone buzzed at least five times a day. Sometimes the message came from Satoru, another time, from an unknown number you quickly labelled "Suguru".
They were restless, causing a fuss like children, and your vague answers somehow made them pout like ones. You could see it particularly in Satoru’s texts – overly intimate, too bold. Suguru tried to act like a gentleman, but something in your gut told you to be wary of this handsome, angelic face. The polite, mature reasoning and daily invitations to the most expensive restaurants in the city.
Whenever your phone buzzed during classes, Shoko would smile like a cheeky fox and pinch your side. Her chocolate eyes peeked over your shoulder, only to see all the questions they’ve been flooding you with on a shared group chat.
She whispered, "Why do you have a group chat with them?" as you lowered your heads and hid behind other students. "That’s a bit weird."
"Right?" rolled in a sigh. "But also… cute?"
Shoko furrowed her brows and moved closer, her face pressed to the desk just like yours, with only a buzzing phone lying between you.
"Just meet with them once and take back the ID. I’m tired of letting you into the campus," she muttered, and you pinched her thigh lightly. "Ouch! I’m serious, if they’re that desperate, just do those poor men a favour."
"But Shiu–"
She groaned. "You’re just fucking. It’s fine! Unless you enjoy getting those weird, desperate messages."
It’s not that you enjoyed them, but something inside your chest warmed each time they tried to pamper you a bit. Asking about your favourite food, seasons, dreams, and countries you wish to visit. They sent pictures of lavish bags and expensive jewellery, asking whether you’ll let yourself get invited if they buy you the latest Birkin bag.
It was weird, scary… exciting?
You hoped they would drop the topic and let you part ways, but it seemed that neither Gojo Satoru nor Geto Suguru intended to leave you alone until you accepted their dinner invitation.
After a week, Saturday finally arrived, allowing you to immerse yourself in the endless pit of drunk clients and weekend rush at the bar. There was no time to think about two strangers, and your phone was firmly kept in your pocket.
Men ogled your low-cut shirt, students gathered at the largest tables, music echoed off the dark walls, and Yuki chirped sweetly in your ear whenever she noticed the back pocket of your jeans light up.
"Is it Shiu?" she giggled, looking over your shoulder as you hurriedly grabbed your phone. Blue light illuminated her cherry lips, and chestnut eyes quickly scanned the messages. "Oh my, you dirty girl, juggling two guys at once? Or is it… three?"
You snorted and slid the phone back into your pocket. "It’s nothing. They saved me the other day, as I mentioned, and now they’re trying to take me out on a date."
"Well, go then! Be free, have a threesome, leave them heartbroken," a few men sitting on stools in front of you chuckled, and you gave her a light punch. "Ouch, I’m serious! Just have some fun."
You came back to cleaning the beer glasses and shook your head. A few single strands slipped from your pinned-up hair and neck coated with sheer sweat. The air was thick, smelling of alcohol and a laughter that made your head pulse. Someone’s sticky hand tried to touch yours, but you ignored it and turned back towards the bar.
Yuki, like glue, turned with you. "Are you going to give them a chance?"
You snorted and focused on mixing the drink. "I won’t. Besides, I have a date with Shiu today," your eyes wandered towards the clock. "He’s picking me up in an hour, so I need to start getting ready soon."
Wear something nice, he wrote yesterday, and left you on read when you asked where he was planning to take you.
Shiu was a man of few words, and you didn’t know much about him, but it didn’t really matter. As long as the sex was good, everything else was fine too. Sometimes he would take you out for dinner, but more often you met somewhere in a hotel – rather expensive one – and stayed the night. Or a weekend.
Sometimes he would book it for three days and leave the next morning. On such occasions, Shoko and Yuki would slip in and order the horrendously expensive room service that was paid straight from his card. Whatever he was doing, it seemed that money was not a problem.
When your shift was over, you quickly escaped to the bar’s bathroom to freshen up. Long black dress hugged your figure, and kitten heels clattered on the tiled floor as you finished your makeup. Dim light made it look smudged, but at least made the glittery lip gloss coated your plump lips with a glimmer stand out.
Since you still had a few minutes, you left the bathroom and sat at the back of the bar, scrolling through at least thirty messages from your two… lovebirds.
They asked about everything – why you weren’t replying, if anything was wrong, if you were busy tonight, if you had any plans, and, if not, maybe they’d pick you up from work.
You asked how they knew that you were working tonight, and Satoru immediately said it was a guess.
Suguru added whether you’re free and up for a drink, but before you could reply, Yuki tapped your shoulder.
"Your prince has just arrived," she whispered with a cheeky smile. "He’s waiting outside."
You grabbed your things and slipped away, waving goodbye to Yuki. A loud get a load of them was heard amidst the bustling noise of the bar, but you still giggled.
The hot summer air stuck to your skin like a sweet promise of finally getting laid after a long wait. The smell of cigarettes almost immediately curled around your body, and a heavy hand followed, pulling you towards the muscular chest.
"Hi," escaped with a lovely giggle, as you met a pair of dark eyes. "Handsome, aren’t you?"
Shiu chuckled, placing a quick kiss on your cherry lips. "And you already taste amazing. How about we just ditch the dinner?"
A quiet tsk slipped from your lips as you gently fist-punched his chest. "Let me enjoy wearing this dress a little longer," you whispered. He was much taller than you, though not as tall as the other two men who somehow couldn’t leave your thoughts. You briefly stood on your toes and leaned toward his ear. "I don’t have any panties. Thought you’d want to know."
Something in his eyes glimmered, and his eyes curved in a mischievous smile. His thumb followed up to your chin, brushing the lower, glossed lip with a hum. "I think we really should dump the restaurant. Now I won’t be able to focus on anything else."
Your hands wrapped around his arm as you began walking toward his car. Heels clicked on the concrete, drunken people spilled out from nearby bars, and the moon softly peeked through the dark clouds.
It was truly a wonderful night. For the first time in a long while, you felt completely relaxed and at ease. You chatted happily, with Shiu occasionally contributing a few words, all while openly eyeing your breasts beneath the low-cut dress. All the plans for the evening were coiling in your mind, and your breath hitched whenever you thought about the sweet end of it.
Firstly, you will enjoy a delicious dinner with a handsome man; secondly, he’ll fuck you dumb in every possible position; thirdly…
You will encounter two men whom you truly, really did not wish to meet. Particularly today.
Specifically, with a man whom you vowed to be your boyfriend.
You didn’t expect to see them. Of course you didn’t, yet they weren’t surprised at all to see you walking down the street straight from the bar. With tall, muscular bodies dressed in black suits and eyes fixated on your hands gripping Shiu’s biceps. A sudden chill ran down your spine.
Something eerily strange woke beneath your chest, carrying the same feeling you experienced a few days ago. When trusting them seemed almost too good to be true, and your instincts urged you to run.
And now they stood here, right in front of you, blocking the way to Shiu’s car.
"Shiu, what a coincidence!" Satoru chuckled, pulling up his dark glasses.
You froze.
In shock, surprise, maybe fear, hearing his tone. So smooth, yet lined with something dominant. Harsh, almost making your hand slip down from Shiu’s biceps.
And he… looked as shocked as you.
Or, well, maybe shocked was a bad word.
He was terrified.
You could see it in the way his jaw suddenly locked, and the cigarette dropped from between his fingers. Dark eyes that seemed to carry a sense of arrogance wavered, as if met with something far more overpowering than him.
But at that age, as a young woman, you'd never met anyone as mature and commanding as Shiu. He was older, sensible, caring, incredibly gentlemanly, and always treated you with respect.
Well, that was until recently. Now, the two men who seemed as if they wished to nuzzle under your skin exuded an overbearing presence that made your throat tighten with dread.
"Boss," Shiu straightened up, nodding politely towards both Satoru and Suguru. "What are you doing here?"
Suguru stood at the back, a single cigarette dangling from his fingers. Your eyes met his for a moment before quickly dropping to your shoes.
You didn’t really know why. Was it because you tried to ignore them for the past few days? Or maybe because you made multiple excuses about hanging out with your boyfriend?
Or maybe, because you knew how overwhelming their gazes felt, tracing the lines of your hearty face with the clinging warmth. Making your heart speed up in a weird manner, as if a single word of theirs could make your mind spill.
Oh, that was enough.
"Shiu," you murmured sweetly, tugging on his hand.
Satoru’s eyes shifted rapidly to yours. Cold and devoid of the cheeky, charming sparkle they had last week. "And who is that, Shiu?" He stepped closer, hands kept loosely in his pockets. "Your girlfriend?"
His voice carried a trace of cockiness. Something arrogant, almost mocking, as if he knew that Shiu was not your boyfriend and you were anything but his stupid, younger girlfriend.
And, oh, he did know, as his next words almost tore your heart apart.
"Does your wife know you’re here?"
Your eyes widened, and throat clenched suddenly, as if trying to stifle the gasp that threatened to burst from your lungs. Looking up at Shiu, you saw a terror washing over his face. Eyes jumping between you and Satoru, as if not knowing to whom he owed the explanation first.
So you took the lead. "Wife?"
You tried to ignore the little grin that appeared on Satoru’s face. You pretended not to see Suguru’s almond eyes curve into a mischievous smile. The low chuckle that escaped his throat and the grey smoke curling around his cascading hair.
"Oh?" Satoru tilted his head, feigning surprise with a grin. "Your girlfriend didn’t know? That you’ve been married for five years? Or maybe…" He leaned in until his eyes met yours, the heavy scent of cologne enveloping you and minty breath brushing your face. You knew what he would say. You knew, and thus you clenched your fist so as not to smack his cheek clean before he finished. "Maybe she’s just a simple whore?"
"Satoru–" you almost barked, but Shiu grabbed your hand.
"Boss, she’s just an acquaintance. No one else."
Maybe admitting that you were a whore would hurt less. That he enjoyed spending time with you much more than with his wife, even if he needed to pay for it.
In fact, he did treat you like a whore, and maybe all those weekends in expensive hotels and dinners were just payment for the night spent in your embrace.
"No," you said, pulling away from his grasp. Shiu looked at you with a pleading expression, as if wishing to say let’s talk about it later. But the need to quickly get away from Satoru and Suguru was far greater. "I'm just a simple whore. Too bad you like it raw, maybe there’s a chance you even knocked me up."
His lips fell open. You knew it would tickle something in his mind, given how much he didn’t want children.
What caught you off guard was Satoru’s reaction. His face froze in horror, as if your words had touched a nerve. He reached out swiftly toward your arm, but you slapped his hand away.
"Fuck you, Satoru. Don’t contact me ever again."
You ignored whatever he wanted to say and swiftly brushed past him with a gentle brush to his shoulder. Suguru stood right in front of you – with a cigarette still dangling from his fingers, and a gaze much, much warmer than before.
As if the glance of your glassy eyes melted the mischievous look that had played on his lip mere minutes ago.
"Darling–" he wanted to grab you, but your hand smacked his.
There was simply no need to embarrass yourself any further. No need to play a foolish, young whore in front of one man who seemed to always treat you with respect, and two others who…
Made your cheeks warm up with a single, stupid look.
And there you were again – walking down the street as darkness blanketed the sky. Your lips trembled, whether from sadness or fury, while your heels clacked on the concrete. The black dress glittered with shimmering accents on its silk fabric, and it was a shame you couldn’t show it in a fancy restaurant.
The idea of going to the club and quickly finding a hookup has crossed your mind. After all, you were in one of the city's busiest nightlife areas, so checking out a couple of clubs and getting foolishly drunk could be a better plan than being miserable at home.
You pulled out a compact mirror and quickly fixed your make-up – dark smudges under your eyes and nearly all the lip gloss gone. And considering how dark it already was, it was almost impossible to notice your glossy, furious eyes. Yet, you’ve never met a man who wouldn’t be captivated by this sweet, tearful look whenever you–
"Sweetheart!" A low voice brought you back, and you immediately recognised it. How could you not? "Listen–"
Your head turned quickly as the long black car pulled up by the sidewalk. Satoru’s snowy hair peeked out from the open door before he stepped out of the car, with Suguru following.
You ignored them and kept walking. Much faster than before, with hands curled into little fists and jaw locked. Kitten heels were comfortable, but not enough to take flight, so you were stuck in a tempo too slow to ever run from their long legs.
"Please stop following me, or I’ll report you," you said, not turning your head even for a second.
But you sensed their presence right behind you. The heat radiating from their bodies, and the irritating scent of cologne enveloping your skin. Or perhaps it wasn’t the perfume but Suguru’s hand, which quickly grabbed your arm.
"Darling, listen–"
You turned, trying to free yourself from his grip. But he was too powerful, and with one swift motion, he pulled you closer. Long hair brushed against your fiery cheeks, and lavender eyes looked down at you with genuine concern.
"What? You've embarrassed me enough already. What else do you want me to hear?" You almost shouted, glancing at Satoru. "And how dare you call me a whore? Do you truly find it funny?"
"We never intended to embarrass you," Suguru whispered, gently tucking a few strands of hair behind your ear. "Let’s calm down, hm? Come on, darling," he said softly, his hand slipping from your arm to your back, encircling it slowly. "Satoru never meant to say that. He only wanted to teach Shiu a lesson."
There was a calming quality to his presence, with his gentle, almost parental voice and warm eyes watching as your misty lashes blinked quickly. Droplets clung precariously to their tips, and he wished to capture them with his rough thumb.
But that might frighten you, and you were already cautious like a gentle doe, gazing up at them with a lovely innocence.
"Isn’t it a relief to know he was a cheater?" Satoru cooed, moving closer. He reached out, curling a lock of your hair around his pale fingers. "Sweetheart, I apologise. That was such a foolish mistake."
"It was," you coughed, a gentle warmth creeping up your cheeks again. You took a step back, letting your hair flow away from between their fingers. "So, just give me back the ID, and we can part our ways. There’s no need to prolong it any longer."
There was no need to stay, since you wanted to avoid worsening your situation. Whoever they were, it was obvious that being around them wouldn’t lead to anything good. It was better to keep your distance from the feelings developing among the three of you.
And whatever they were, they clearly felt consuming. Like a prolonged hunger of two beasts you weren’t ready to face.
Something coiled behind their eyes – restless, predatory, hidden behind the balmy gazes they tried to coo you with.
"Just one night," Suguru said, stepping closer. "Let us make up for embarrassing you. One date."
One date, lingered in your mind repeatedly. Deep inside, you felt that this single meeting would lead to more days filled with their relentless messages and disturbance of your space.
For some reason, it couldn't be that simple to untangle yourself from their grasp. Wrapping around your body tighter and tighter, reaching out to your neck, waist, fingers, as you desperately tried to push them away.
But then Yuki’s words suddenly slipped through your mind.
Just have some fun.
You didn’t crave a romantic dinner anymore. It didn’t mean, however, that sex should also be off the table. As something warm bubbled under your chest, spreading all over your body like liquid honey. Sweet, sticky, spiking the feverishness that hit your cheeks, making your eyes glimmer like two diamonds.
If they were that eager to spend the night with you, maybe using them for your own pleasure wasn’t a bad idea. Just a one-night stand, before you could grab your ID and block their numbers for good.
Your back hit the brick wall before you’ve noticed, with two tall men caging you in like predators. And you, the sweet bunny that you were, had just thought of the foxy, devilish plan that would allow all three of you to satisfy your needs.
They craved you, and you just need someone to fuck you.
Suguru didn’t get his answer.
Instead, your hand grabbed his tie, curling it around your fingers, before you pulled him closer with one swift move. Your lips crashed in a harsh kiss as you tasted the minty smokiness of his skin.
A brief shock crossed their faces, lasting only a minute, before you switched to Satoru. Your lips, sticky from gloss, brushed against his as you gently bit down on his lower lip.
"That’s for calling me a whore," you murmured, feeling their hands grab your body. Quickly, possessively, harsh, with fingers caressing your hips, waist, slipping up to nuzzle against the swell of your breasts.
Broad backs covered the warm beam of the street lamps fully, caging you between their bodies, and tongues tracing the plushness of your cheeks. Your lips, neck, with Suguru gently biting down on your earlobe and Satoru crashing his teeth against yours. And then you changed, with lips going back to Suguru’s and a sweet moan rolling from your throat. He swallowed it with a soft smile, pushing you against the brick wall even firmer.
Your body was sizzling under their touch, with Satoru delicately running his fingers through your hair and nuzzling your neck. Suguru pressed himself closer, until you felt a bulge in his trousers against your stomach. He was a tender kisser, gently moving his lips to softly caress yours, while you let out a quiet moan after Satoru bit your neck. The air was thick and humid, with you trapped between their muscular bodies, sweat trickling down your chest, and your swollen lips still pressed to Suguru.
And then you remembered that you were still standing in the middle of the sidewalk. Not even hidden in an alley, but in full view of all the curious passers-by who could enjoy your little show.
"Hold on," slipped in a mumble, as you felt Satoru’s tongue plastered to your neck. "Can we please go…"
Satoru softly whispered, "We can go anywhere you like, sweetheart," as he brushed his clothed cock against your thigh. "Maybe our apartment? We’ll take really good care of you. Just say the word."
Their apartment sounded risky. Almost threatening, putting you in a vulnerable position right from the start. Going back to your place wouldn't be better either, since they would know your address (not the smartest choice). So, you just nodded.
In any case, they could easily overpower you. put into every possible position without a sweat. And at that moment, with a fever burning in your chest, you would gladly let them do it. You genuinely behaved like a heat-stricken kitty, panting beneath their weight and softly moaning against their lips.
Years later, you’d still be reminiscing about this night. It was intense and wild, with both of them tasting, sucking, and biting every inch of your body. Gasping and pleading for more with your breath hitching and your teary voice asking for more, more.
You didn’t even remember the way back to their apartment.
No, there was really nothing to remember except your half-naked body pressed against the dark leather seats and both men kneeling before your seat. Darkness blended with a foggy mist kissing the wet windows, and thank god for the thick black screen between you and the driver.
Black dress pooled around your hips, with both of them kissing your calves, thighs, plastering wet tongues to the mound of your cunt, before diving deep between your folds. Taking turns, with Suguru kissing your smudged lips while Satoru slurped on your juices, and Satoru sucking on your perked nipples while Suguru’s nose bumped against your clit.
The heavy air hit your mind with a fever, making your eyes go glassy and sparkle with pleasure.
"How do you feel, darling?" Suguru would murmur, while Satoru moaned deep into your cunt. His long fingers stretched you open on a seat, and his lips licked the leather clean whenever our honeyed juices would pool under your hips. "Do you have any idea how good you taste? I can't believe you wanted to give all of this to Shiu," Suguru’s fingers grabbed your cheeks, squeezing them with a low chuckle. "Our sweet girl, don't ever think about another man touching you."
You could only nod dumbly before his lips once again crushed against yours. In a messy, sloppy, maddened kiss. As if trying to eat you alive, like a beast starving for centuries.
You barely remembered the walk to their apartments. Satoru wrapped you tightly in his jacket and slung you over his shoulder like a rag doll. A soft moan escaped your lips when his hand met with your ass. The gentle smack stirred up the flames licking your lower belly, and before you knew it, your body was thrown on the soft mattress.
There was no time to look around their apartment. To gaze at high windows and stairs curling near the walls. At the pricy chandeliers and their whole enormity that normal, corporate workers surely couldn’t afford.
But it was fine, there was no need to mind it. Because after that night, you would never meet them again.
Under the lovely panting, moans and cries slipping from between your lips, they caressed your body in the most precious manner. At least, at the very beginning.
Because didn’t I stretch you enough, sweetheart? and you can take it darling, take a deep breath, met with your nails sliding down Suguru’s back and Satoru biting your neck from behind.
With your back pressed against Satoru’s chest and Suguru looming over your sweating bodies, while you truly tried to take both of them at the same time.
Electric kisses touched every part of your skin in a ripping, raw pleasure, as their deep voices tried to soothe your soft cries.
There was no place for n-no please, wait, because Suguru’s lips would swiftly meet yours and drink all the shy pleadings and begging. Satoru’s fingers would slip down to your clit and roll it gently, till your walls relaxed a bit around their fat cocks.
"That’s our good girl," Satoru whispered to your ear, pinching your clit with soft squeezes. "That’s it, let it go, sweetheart, fuck," he groaned, feeling your walls clasp around their cocks again. With a trembling cry, as if trying to push them out and swallow in at the same time.
Suguru licked the tears rolling down your cheeks before smooching both of them. "Deep breaths, darling–mhmmm–you’re such a beautiful crier," he chuckled, thrusting sharply and tightening fingers around your thighs.
The mean mating press he locked you in made you moan and pant like a kitten, with honeyed juices covering their cocks, as massive, muscular bodies squeezed you between them. You felt so full, with both of them stretching your walls, ripping your weeping cunt raw, kissing your cervix with soaked tips and filling you up so, so nicely. Taking us like our good little whore, Satoru whispered, and this comment, somehow, made your walls squeeze them even harder.
The large bedroom smelled so filthy, wet, with windows coated in salty droplets of your moans and beddings absolutely drenched from your cries. They took turns, manhandling your soft body, leaving red bites all over it and licking the tears of your puffy cheeks with a smile.
"You can be incredibly mean, sweetheart," Satoru said, pinching your nipple and biting down firmly on your shoulder. "So cruel, ignoring our messages when all we wanted was to pamper you."
Suguru straightened up, pushing your thighs against the chest firmer. His thrusts became harsher, faster, much more brutal, with each push smooching your swollen womb and droplets of pre-cum sticking to your walls.
"But it’s okay, we forgive you, sweetheart," Satoru mumbled, his hand gently moving to your swollen belly. A sharp moan escaped your lips as he pressed on the soft pouch filled with their lengths. "We’ll have lots of time to fix that ugly habit of yours."
You had no idea what he was talking about, and honestly, you didn’t really care.
Not when their cocks filled you so deliciously, and the knot twisted in your belly almost loosened up. All you needed was just a few more thrust, their low groans and Suguru’s deep, violent eyes to fix on your crying face, before you finally cum.
Your cunt squeezed around their shafts, till both of them stilled deep, deep inside your drenched walls. Warm ropes of cum flooded your womb, coating your insides in gluey ropes. Forcing your feet to curl in pleasure, and body to melt into a puddle on Satoru’s muscular chest.
"So beautiful, so fucking beautiful," Suguru groaned, squeezing your wet cheeks with his hand. "Our beautiful wife, fuck," his hips rolled gently, keeping all the warm seed deep within your walls. Pumping you full until your belly bulged not only under the heaviness of their cocks but also filled up with heavy waves of cum.
"A w-wife?" You cried, feeling Satoru’s lips slide down your neck.
Suguru chuckled softly, gently touching your cheek. "Of course, darling. Since we’re dating, isn’t it only right to marry you someday?"
Dating?
Your head started to spin, and you couldn’t tell if it was from the overwhelming pleasure or this strange, eerie feeling that was suddenly haunting you again.
"We stuffed you so full today, I wouldn’t be surprised if you got pregnant," Satoru murmured, kissing your temple.
A second has passed before you registered their words. Just enough time for them to shift positions and roll you onto your belly. You found yourself splayed across Suguru’s chest, with Satoru moving behind your trembling hips.
Muscular arms locked you again in one position, fully caging your weak body between theirs.
Lavender eyes that stirred mixed feelings in you gazed at your shocked face, curving into a loving smile. Oh, he was stunning, so incredibly beautiful, yet you felt as if you were facing Satan himself.
"I’m on birth control," slipped like a nightmare.
And it was true, you’ve been on pills since you started hooking up with Shiu. Your dramatic display today was just to scare him a little, as you never planned to become a mother at such a young age.
But it appeared they didn’t really register your words. Not exactly, as Suguru’s fingers brushed away stray strands clinging to your damp lips and curled his hand around your neck. Pulling you closer, till his lips met yours in a tender, loving kiss.
"Are you?" He whispered, with a something strange gleaming in his eyes. Something violent, threatening, almost possessive in a way his fingers gripped your neck tighter and hard cock once again tried to force its way through your weeping hole. "That’s fine, darling. We’ll make it work one day. Don’t worry your pretty head about it, just enjoy the night."
So you did.
With their bodies crushing you obsessively and hands caressing your skin in such a loving yet violent manner. Leaving you weak and begging, with cunt burning from the rubbing of their cocks and tears constantly wetting their fingers.
Five years later, after choosing to run away from their possessive claws, you would still think about those nights. The smell of their cologne, dirty whispers tickling your ear, hands bending your body without a sweat and the controlling love they tried to pour into your heart.
But on that night, while you were still naive and intoxicated by the attention of older men, you failed to see the clues that screamed at you to run. Or you didn’t, but chose to ignore them, taking a sick pleasure in their obsession. You ignored the eerie comments, touches, and actions, believing they would eventually tire of you and move on to women closer to their age and status. After all, you were just a broke student.
Years later, you would regret the foolishness of those choices. As you quickly realised that their obsession wasn’t the romantic kind you loved to read about. It was raw and loving and marked by violence you’ve never seen before. So deeply ingrained in their blood, your only option was to vanish entirely.
From the city, their life, and the earth itself.
Hihi, I really, really hope you liked this one! We didn't have Shiu in the previous version, so I WONDER what will happen to him later hm.....
Ugh do y'all know where this jjk smut fic where Gojo, geto, Nanami, and Toji is a professor and they "punished" reader for, like, having a bf?? Sounds "cringe" but I wanna reread it sb and I have been looking for it for hourss
Pairing: Yandere!Dick Grayson x Reader (+Batfam) [DC].
Word Count: 3.8k.
TW: Non/Con, Fem!Reader, Omegaverse, Alpha!Dick, Beta!Reader, Kidnapping, Forced Mating, Knotting, Panic Attacks, Suicidal Ideation, Forced Proximity, Fingering, Group Sex, and Nonconsensual Touching. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat.
Every morning, you woke up underneath Dick Grayson.
That was to be expected from an alpha, or so you’d been told. They tended to be clingy, physical, never satisfied unless their mate was within their sight or, better yet, in their arms. It was perfectly natural, but knowing that did little to alleviate the hot, damp weight of him on your back, didn’t make the smell of sweat and bodies that dragged you from your sleep any less smothering. His arm was a steel bar across your waist, his legs a pair of writhing snakes that tangled around and immobilized yours. Regardless of how much distance you put between yourself and him in the night, his face always seemed to find the crook of your neck, his mouth never more than an inch or so from your mating mark.
The mating mark you, biologically, weren’t supposed to have. But you guessed what was ‘natural’ mattered more for him than it did for you.
Worst of all, he always woke up after you. It was a shared symptom of his late-night patrols and the domestic, homebound instinct most alphas felt to make their den and maintain it. You were left to lie awake for the better part of an hour, swallowing back the feeling that you ought to find a way to crawl out of your own skin, before he began to stir – groaning as he groggily lifted his head. He squeezed your body against his once before rolling over to drag a hand over his face, wiping away lingering exhaustion. You savored the distance the same way an alcoholic savored fine wine: already desperate for another glass.
You made a valiant effort to get away, shuffling towards the edge of the mattress as you muttered some excuse about showering or brushing your teeth. Of course, Dick was quick to stop you and of course, his chosen method of persuasion was touch-based. He sat up, resting his back against the headboard. An arm lashed out, curling around your midriff and dragging you into his lap. Your knees landed on either side of his waist, your ass slotted against his crotch. You could feel his cock pressing into you, stiff and leaking. Your revulsion must’ve shown on your expression, because Dick laughed and rolled his hips against you.
“Can’t help it,” he muttered, voice still thick with sleep. “You just smell so good in the morning. Guess you wouldn’t know that, though.”
Right. Obviously. Because, of the two singular drawbacks to being a beta, there was only one Dick would ever dare to mention out loud. He loved holding your weak sense of smell over your head, reminding you that there was a whole, invisible world defined by scents and pheromones that was entirely inaccessible to you. It’d never been an issue before you met him. From what you’d heard, pheromones were just another way to tell how a person felt, easily replaced by a keen eye for micro-expressions or a careful ear for tones, and you didn’t find being able to tell the exact notes of a person’s unique musk all that appealing.
Then again, if you did have a better nose, you might’ve been able to tell Dick (or, rather, Nightwing, at the time) was going into a rut the night you met, the night he saved you from an armed robber and so heroically offered to walk you home. You might’ve been more aware of the pheromones you were radiating – scared, helpless, in need of protection – and what they would do to alpha at his most eager to lay claim. You might’ve been able to get away from him before he pinned you down on the floor of your living room, dug his teeth into your throat, and bound you to him permanently. His family had told you, afterward, that splitting up a bonded pair was dangerous. Separation from his mate could make Dick irritable, obsessive, hyper-violent. No part of you liked being stuck with him, but the Waynes had promised that you would like version of him that distance bred less. Moving in with his pack, playing mate – that was the safer option. The more humane option.
It also conveniently ignored the second drawback to being a beta: your unwavering preference for your own company. You weren’t supposed to have a mate. You weren’t supposed to join a pack. That was for alphas and omegas with their primal, hormone-driven brains; the ones too busy sucking and fucking to notice people like you quietly keeping society on-track in the background. You’d been made for long periods of isolation, peaceful nights in empty beds, the muted tranquility of mental silence. Crowds made you anxious. Too many voices in one room left you on the verge of hyperventilating. The thought of gushy, romantic sex (the type with lots of skin-to-skin contact and so, so many fluids) made you want to throw up. These were undebatable facts of your existence and traits which Dick trampled over daily with no small amount of zeal.
He grinned, easy and loose, as he slipped a hand into your panties. Two fingers found your slit, tracing over it as the heel of his palm ground into your clit. Sex, real sex, was thankfully off-limits. His dick (or, more accurately, the knot at its base) would kill you. Literally. His constant, pleading pawing wasn’t much more bearable, though.
“It’s stronger in the morning.” Right. Back to your scent. His fingers slipped inside of you, pushing in to the knuckle. “I mean, I can always pick it up, but right now, I don’t even have to try. ‘s like I’m drowning in it.”
You swallowed back a whimper, forcing your tongue to work the way you needed it to. “That sounds terrible.”
“It’s perfect.” He curled his fingers, interrupting his otherwise lazy pumping, then ground into your clit with that much more force. “You’d drown in me if you had the chance to, right?”
You could hear your own slick noises echoing off the walls of his bedroom. “I’d rather just drown you.”
He laughed, bowing his head and pressing an open-mouthed kiss into your collarbone. “I wouldn’t mind.”
Irritation sparked, hot and fierce. Your hands shot for his neck, but Dick’s grin only widened. Without pulling out of you, he rolled over – throwing you down to the mattress and landing on your back. His arm was trapped underneath you, but he didn’t seem to care, didn’t let it slow down the harsh way he flicked his wrist or the invasive curling of his digits inside of you. You thrashed, then when that failed, clawed at the sheets, as if tearing through silk and cotton would do anything to get him off of you. Not that your resistance lasted long enough to matter. It only took short, pitiful seconds for him to make you cum – dragging a miserable whine out alongside your climax. Immediately, you went limp underneath him, and Dick kissed the nape of your neck, humming as he pulled away. Over your shoulder, you could hear an awful, wet sound, like a tongue running through fingers. You did what you could not to put an image to the noise.
When he was done, Dick rested a hand on your back, rubbing circles in your shoulder blade. “Sorry, baby,” And then, stifling another laugh, “You’re just so cute when you’re all—”
His touch drifted south, skirting over the length of your spin. You shrieked into the mattress, arching your back on reflex. Trying to get away from him. Dick sighed.
“Can’t run from me forever.” As if to prove his point, he gathered you up in his arms, pushing himself to his feet and starting in the direction of the en-suite. “One day, I’m gonna have to make you see that.”
You could only groan in response.
~
Breakfasts at Wayne Manor were always difficult to get through.
Late in the morning, after the brunt of the pack had a chance to sleep off the worst of last night’s patrol, every available member of the family gathered around a single, narrow table to clack utensils against porcelain and scrape chairs across the floor and speak to each other as loudly as they possibly could. The others were allowed to choose seats at random, but somehow, you always seemed to end up near the head of the table, stuck between Dick and the Pack Alpha, Bruce.
You hated it. You hated the proximity, too many bodies crammed into too small of a space. You hated the paranoia, never able to eat in comfort knowing another hungry mouth could steal the food off your plate at any time. Most of all, you hated the volume. So many voices layered on top of one another, you couldn’t be bothered to differentiate between Stephanie’s laugh and Cassandra’s quiet hum, Jason’s sardonic drawl and Tim’s mechanical droning. After a while, it was all just noise.
You felt a headache coming on. This was to be expected at this point in the day and thus, warranted no reaction more apparent than a half-hearted scowl and a pair of eyes narrowed toward your plate.
As always, you ate too quickly and were forced to stay too long. When you tried to get up from your seat, Dick’s hand found its way to your thigh, gently urging you back down. He was smiling, again – the golden boy grin, all clear blue eyes behind dark, disorderly hair. You hated that smile more than you hated every other part of Dick combined. Without it, you never would’ve trusted him. You never would’ve let him into your home. You never would’ve found yourself trapped in his.
You never would’ve let him touch you.
You started to turn to him, to make it clear that you were finished and you needed to leave, but someone cleared their throat to your right. Of course.
How could you have forgotten about Bruce.
You braced yourself before turning to him. Dick squeezed your thigh by way of reassurance. It didn’t help.
Bruce Wayne was the Pack Alpha of secondary sex bio-essentialists’ collective wet-dream. Well over six feet tall with the build to match, he towered over the rest of his family with an air of calm, analytic judgement. Even his gaze felt too heavy, as if a weighted pole had been dropped onto your shoulders whenever he deemed you worthy of a stray glance in your direction. Your loathing for him was no less intense than the loathing you held for Dick, but the tone of it was different. You hated Dick because of what he’d done to you, what he continued to do to you. You hated Bruce because of how easily he could fix it and how consistently he decided not to.
“Don’t forget your medication,” he started, slowly, drawing out each word as he gestured to the small collection of multi-colored pills on the edge of your plate. Supplements, you’d been told, to make up for the general lack of activity in your current life. You tried not to take them when you could get away with it, if only because it was one of your precious few ways to maintain your independence. “You won’t like that happens if you miss a dose.”
An order, albeit not a cruel one. He was talking to you like one of his children. Like a member of his pack.
Your head pounded.
“I—” You paused, swallowing. The juxtaposition was dizzying. He was an older man and you were in his home. You wanted to do what he said and be done with it. He was an alpha and you were nothing. You wanted to do anything but listen to him then run as far as you possibly could. “I don’t want to.”
His cold gaze flickered from you to the rest of his table. In turn, the others went quiet, their attention naturally gravitating to Bruce, who then directed it to you. The noise had been unbearable, but the silence was worse. Six pairs of eyes, all focused unblinkingly on you. You would’ve sat through a thousand family meals if it meant they would all stop looking at you like that.
With shaking hands, you snatched up the pills and choked them down dry. Bruce nodded. Dick beamed.
You wanted a long second for their attention to disperse, then another. It never did. Your vision blurred around the edges as you scrambled out of your seat, muttering excuses. This time, no one stopped you.
You wanted your bedroom – safe and dark and isolated – but the kitchen was closer. Your temples throbbed. Your heart threatened to beat out of your chest. So busy trying to steady your own frantic breathing, you didn’t notice the footsteps until you were leaning over a counter, eyes clenched shut and hands flat against the cool marble. You thought it might be Dick, at first, come to check on his upset mate. You should’ve known he wouldn’t be so attentive, that the world wouldn’t be so kind.
A lean arm wrapped around your midriff, its owner’s chest soon pressed against your back. You saw a flash of gold in your peripheral, felt soft lips on the shell of your ear.
Stephanie. Another alpha. Perfect.
She was surprisingly quiet. There was a slight hum, a breath of a laugh, but nothing else as she nuzzled into your shoulder. Rather than an act of mercy, her silence came off as a show of further sadism. It meant you had to be the catalyst for your own misery.
“What are you doing?”
“Comforting you.” A purr started up deep in her throat. You felt the reverberations against your skin. “You should see the pheromones you’re releasing, right now. I’ve rescued hostages giving off weaker distress signals.”
Another set of footsteps, another body placing itself too close. You glanced to your left and found Tim pulling himself onto the counter, his dark eyes wide. He was an omega, but that did little to endear him to you. Alphas tended to be more aggressive, but there was something about the cloying, saccharine way omegas held themselves that made you uneasy. They went through life expecting to be loved. Your lack of affection was regarded less as an inability and more as stubbornness. Something meant to be resented or, better yet, overcome.
“It really is strong,” he mumbled, edging that much closer to you. “Not that I’m complaining. It’s nice. Calming.”
Stephanie snickered. “Don’t listen to him. He says you smell like the ocean.”
Your nose wrinkled. Every soul born and raised in Gotham knew the coastline’s dead-fish, rotting-trash stench by heart. Tim scowled.
“I did not. It’s more like—” He cut himself off, pausing to think. When he went on, his voice was more distant, as if drawing from a well-loved memory. “Bruce took me to Italy for a case, once. The air was so—so fresh. There was salt, and sunlight, and something sweet, like—”
“Caramel,” Stephanie finished. Her purring was getting louder. Her hands began to wander, slipping under your shirt and pressing flat against your stomach. She was unbearably warm, and you could feel her palms sliding up, up, her breath against your throat as she sought out your—
“Please,” You were so quiet, you could hardly hear yourself above the static in your ears. “Stop.”
Her grin pressed into the curve of your neck. “Why would I do that, sweetheart?”
“I don’t like being touched. It’s not—” Your body was too hot. You were burning alive. “It’s not right.”
She laughed – loud and bold and searing. “Of course it is, honey. This,” She dragged her blunt nails over your chest for emphasis. “is how we show we care. Don’t you want us to care about you?”
No. You didn’t. You wanted something, anything else. You opened your mouth to say as much, to scream, but Tim was fast.
“Let her go, Steph.” Sweet, soft, nearly pleading. Obediently, Stephanie pulled away, and you sucked in a deep breath. Those piercing, beady little eyes of his never fell away from you. It seemed to turn the air hostile, filling your lungs with acid in the place of relief. “She’ll come around, soon.” And then, quietly, almost to himself, “She’ll have to.”
His words rang in your ears for seconds. She’ll have to.
Meaning, they’d make you.
All the warmth left your body at once. It was strangely calming – the rush of cold; the way your heart beat so fast, it might as well have not been beating at all. Without a word, you slipped out from underneath Stephanie, and she let you. Tim whispered something and Stephanie laughed, but the details were lost in translation. It didn’t really matter. They’d said what they needed to.
You couldn’t get to the roof, so you settled for Bruce’s office. It was on the uppermost floor, with a balcony that looked out over the manor’s gardens. His door was unlocked, so you let yourself in. Bruce was at his desk. You passed by him without acknowledgement.
He only got to his feet as you stepped outside. The guardrail was tall enough to press into your stomach as you peered over it. Fifty feet to the ground, more or less. You’d been hoping for more, but it would do the trick.
You leaned forward, bowing your head low and using your arms to better ease your body over the side. Eventually, your center of gravity tipped, your feet kicking off the ground as you teetered on the railing and started to—
A fist curled around the collar of your shirt, jerking you back and throwing you to the ground. You blinked, and then, Bruce was kneeling above you, his hand around your neck and his gaze steely. Your skin crawled underneath his palm.
“I had higher hopes for you,” he muttered. His free hand slipped into his coat pocket, drawing out a thin black box. “We thought you were coming along.”
You hesitated to respond, but there was only one thing you were ever going to say. That you could say, anymore. “Please don’t touch me.”
He scoffed, the noise dry and humorless. The box was placed next to your head, the lid carefully removed. You saw the flash of something long and silver in your peripheral, felt a pinch at the base of your neck. Heat flooded into your veins, thick and primal. You caught the distant scent of something sweet, and then, you were gone.
~
The room stank of sweat, salt, and sugar.
You came into consciousness slowly, only able to take in one foggy detail at a time. You were in an unfamiliar bed, too large to be your own. Dick was above you, kneeling in between your legs, his face flush and his hands planted on either side of your head. In the corner of your eye, you could see Tim and Stephanie on the other side of the too-big mattress – Tim on his back and Stephanie moving above him, bouncing on something you couldn’t see. Behind them, of course, was Bruce. He leaned back in his armchair, expression bored but cold eyes watchful. The Pack Alpha, residing over the rituals of lesser creatures.
Dick’s breath hitched and you realized, rather belatedly, that he was inside of you. Really, actually inside of you. Deep, deep inside of you.
Oh no.
Your hands shot to his shoulders, nails burrowing into muscle. “Dick, Dick, you have to—”
He hushed you, falling that much lower. His lips found the curve of your neck, ghosting over a patch of scarred skin. Your mating mark. “’s alright, baby. You’re so—” He moaned, rolling his hips against yours. “So tight.”
“You need to pull out.” You could feel it – beating against your entrance, a swollen mass at the base of your cunt. It was too thick, too hard, too big. He was going to split you open. He was going to fucking kill you. “I’m not supposed to—”
“But you are, baby. You are.” He pulled away, his pace falling into something blissfully lethargic. A hand slipped between your body and his, two fingers finding your clit. Dread and pleasure pulsed through you in tandem. You didn’t want this. You couldn’t. It wasn’t in your nature. And yet, your hips bucked against him and your cunt ached. Your mind was suddenly in the backseat, watching in horror as your body begged to be taken care of.
“Tried to let the pills do their work, take things slow, but B decided it was time to go all the way.” He grinned, kissing your forehead. You could smell something on him, underneath the sweat and closeness. Sharp mint and chalk in sunlight. Then, below that, something else. A steady, indescribable reek that seemed to whisper ‘love me, love me, love me’ into the back of your skull. Your pussy clenched that much tighter around his cock. “Tim even offered to help. Having another omega’s pheromones to copy should make the first time a little easier.”
Another omega? He made it sound like Tim wasn’t the only—
Understanding dawned on you, cruel and terrible. Of course. The pills. The shot. The pack’s insistence that, one way or another, you’d come around. It was all you could do to blink up at Dick. Your voice was weak, when you finally found it. Cloying and submissive. “I’m a beta.”
“You used to be,” he sighed, the contentment in his voice only rivaled by his sheer, unrelenting joy. One of his hands fell to your hip, steadying you. “I couldn’t stand to watch you suffer like that. Not when we could make it so much easier.”
You opened your mouth to protest, but all that came out was a long, desperate whine. You’d never felt so empty, so cold, so in need of something hot and warm and filling. Dick seemed to sense the change. He groaned as he thrust into you, forcing your cunt to take him to the hilt, then deeper still – bullying his knot into your unwilling body. You stretched to accommodate him. It was painless.
It was natural.
You felt him pulse against the walls of your cunt, locking your bodies together. Something hot and thick flooded into you, filling you up in a way you’d never thought to conceive of. Above you, Dick panted, his hair hanging over his face and his eyes half-lidded. His smile was pulled wide enough to strain.
You took a deep breath and regretted it immediately. It hung thick in the air, inescapable despite your best attempts to block it out.
Sea salt and caramel – so strong and so defined, you could only wonder how you’d never noticed it before.
