aftercare with geto suguru is soft. mellow. intimate. and some well deserved homage to purple eyed sugu.
"you have pretty eyes, sugu. like amethysts."
you're layed out in bed with suguru, sheets crumpled and damp. your skin is laden with sweat, and inner thighs slick with liquid desire.
whilst your...extracurricular activities with suguru had put you to bed for the better half of an hour by now, he watches you. your sleeping form. the way your chest falls and rises each time you faintly babble his name asleep. the way you tussle a bit, legs locked with his. how your body curves.
he thinks you couldn't look any prettier, all marked up and bruised with his love bites, and the barren form of your body, open for him to admire. you let yourself be so vunerable infront of him, and it's something that he appreciates in all sincerity, everyday. there's a certain softeness that you only share with suguru - and it's all his; his alone to know of. truly, it's a pleasure that he holds in his heart firmly, each day.
then, the bed ruffles as you stir awake. your first moments of conciousness are met by a flash of hair; raven black like the night, and touches of a deep purple mixed in somewhere.
he leans over with that content smile he always has on his face around you, places a hand on your head, then a kiss on your temple.
"hey, pretty. sleep well?" he speaks, low voice cushioned with softeness and affection.
"mhm, su." you say. your voice is still heavy with sleep, and your face is tucked into the nook of his neck.
he doesn't need to respond. he just leans in, breathes in your scent - because it's addictive to him, and keeps stroking your head.
you look up. into his eyes, then cup both sides of his face, skin supple and glossed over with an ever so slightly olive tone to it. that's when you say it, face all glowing and innocent.
"you have pretty eyes, sugu."
"like... amethysts."
he stiffens up a little, then lets out a light breath.
god, you don't know what you do to him.
"yeah?" he laughs lowly, pressing kisses into your neck, like a better version of a thank you.
you fall asleep like that, legs entwined with his, and body enveloped by his warmth. it's so, so sweet. loving. you don't say it, but you both think that you would trade everything in for this, anyday.
then rest assured that by next week, whilst suguru's out on a mission, there's a note and small, way-too-expensive-looking box resting on the edge of your desk. inside, there's a gleaming pendant. it's shaped like a tear drop. purple.
the notes reads:
"amethysts. so I'm always with you. always looking out for you. love you, forevermore."
and if you had at all forgotten, it reminds you that he loves you, dearly so.
divider by @/anitalenia
i cant stop writing bed centric drabbles. its like a disease. but its just so cutesy and comfy to imagine😔
TW: Anxiety, Insecurities, Brief mention of homophobia, Reader gets roofied, Suguru beats someone up
Your head swims as you open your eyes. Blinking back tears as you adjust to the soft sunlight trickling in through the curtains. You whimper, stomach, body and eyes aching horribly. Something shifts next to you and suddenly big, worried, blue eyes are above you. Slightly blurry, but still recognizable.
“You're awake!” he looks so relieved, his hand immediately reaching up to touch your forehead and cheeks, checking your temperature “Be gentle with her.” another familiar voice says from your left “Sugu?” your voice is so weak that they both wince “What happened?” your question makes Satoru tense, he helps you sit upright and guides a bottle of water to your lips.
“Someone roofied you last night.” Suguru says after you take a few sips, gauging your reaction. You frown, barely able to remember anything other than the iced tea you ordered when you got to the bar and loud bass-boosted music.
“We tried to take you to the hospital but you begged us not to.” Satoru starts fidgeting with strands of your hair, looking so concerned “You were crying so much,” Suguru nods “We didn't want to leave you alone in case you got sick or had worse symptoms so we brought you here. I promise we didn't do anything to you.” you reach up and brush your knuckle across Satoru’s wrist “I didn't even consider that, I trust you both.” some of the tension eases from his shoulders.
Suguru sits up, his hair falling over his shoulder “The guy already got arrested, there was a video camera that caught everything. You don't have to worry about him, and we'll stick closer to you next time, or we don't even have to go to bars anymore if you don't feel safe.” he's more composed than Satoru, but there's still an underlying jittery nervousness simmering under his skin.
You just lean your head against his chest “It's okay Sugu, you both always keep me safe.” he combs his fingers through your hair, untangling some knots “We were really scared.” he says gently “You wouldn't let go of me for almost an hour. I'm pretty sure Satoru would've passed out from stress if you hadn't let us sleep together last night.” you tilt you head to look at your other friend who nods “It's true, at first you kept saying you'd sleep on the couch, something about not wanting to intrude.” he swallows hard, tears shimmering lightly “But you kept throwing up and crying so much, I didn't want you out of my sight.” he curls his hand around the crook of your arm “I've never seen you so weak like that.” it must have been bad if it was enough to rattle him this much. Satoru was usually the one to baby you when you'd get the flu, his immune system was rock solid so between your two friends he'd be the one to take care of you.
So considering he'd seen you in a similar condition you wouldn't have expected this reaction.
“Plus Suguru beat the shit out of the guy before the cops got there so I was all worked up over that too.” he presses his head against your arm. You gasp. Sweet, calm and levelheaded Suguru got in a fight?
Sure enough, when you grab his hands, his knuckles are split and bruised “Jesus Christ Sugu! Why'd you do that?” he shrugs, still trying to stay nonchalant “He deserved it, and nobody pressed charges against me so it's fine.” you tut at him “You got hurt, it's not fine.” Satoru props his chin up on your shoulder “She's right, you never snap like that. It took two guys to pull you off him.” you gasp. Suguru was the equivalent of a buff Buddha, always the peacekeeper and voice of reason. Such a drastic difference in behavior was genuinely shocking.
“Like you wouldn't have done the same?” Satoru shrugs “I would've, but you got to him first.” hearing them talk so casually about fighting someone just because you got roofied was making you more than a little emotional. You sniffle, overwhelmed, and they both wrap you in a hug “I'm sorry angel, we didn't mean to scare you.” Suguru says, nudging his face into the crook of your neck “You didn't scare me. You'd never scare me.” his grip tightens around your waist “I just feel really lucky that I had you both there. I don't even want to think about what would have happened if you hadn't been with me.” you can feel his jaw clench, clearly still harboring some leftover rage.
This wasn’t abnormal, you’d always been closer to them than average, sleepovers and gossip sessions part of your weekly routine by now. All three of you had been glued at the hip since you were children.
Suguru and Satoru had already been friends for a few years when you waddled towards them with a bag of brownies your mom had baked. You didn’t think twice before plopping yourself directly in Suguru’s lap and stuffed a crumbling brownie in his hand “Fwends now!” you were missing your two front teeth but your smile was contagious. They were both older than you, Suguru by a year and Satoru by two years so it was pure fate that you ended up in the same class in pre-school.
Most of the children avoided the duo, their families urging them to stay away from the two boys because they came from wealthy and reputable backgrounds while most of the other children were lower-class. That meant nothing to you though, your only concern being that they were alone and didn’t have sweets.
After that it was a perfect mesh. Pouting and stomping their tiny feet if their parents so much as considered putting them in a more well-renowned school and potentially separating them from you. By the time you were sixteen, their families had fully accepted you as part of it, going so far as to pay for your tuition to enroll in the same elite college as them when the time came for it. Jujutsu Academy, a massive and flashy campus with dorms, wonderful meals and incredibly supportive teachers. All three of you blossomed in the environment, Satoru finding a passion for martial arts and joining two school clubs for muay thai and kickboxing which filled out his lanky form into a rippling mass of muscle, Suguru found similar interest in Tai Chi as well as the school newspaper where he’s already received several very lucrative job offers to write for huge companies after he graduates and you’re happily bouncing around between as many clubs, activities and gatherings that you could fit into your schedule so you could find your calling.
You weren’t too stressed about it though, Satoru planned on taking over his families company and was fully prepared to hire you on as his personal secretary, so if you couldn’t find something you loved then you had a very solid fall-back plan, which Satoru often pouted and threw little fits over you referring to it as a backup plan rather than enthusiastically accepting his offer.
With them both curled around you, making sure you’re safe and comfortable, you’ve never felt more at home. Sometimes it would make odd feelings flare in your chest, feelings stronger than friendship, but that was out of the question. Suguru and Satoru had started dating in their late teens, shortly before graduating high school.
At first you were panicked, swallowing back that itchy, irrational turmoil when they told you. The fear that you’d be excluded, that they’d be more focused on their blossoming relationship than on your friendship ate away at you. You felt so guilty over your insecurity that you had avoided them for two weeks, which led to Satoru cornering you in the school library with tears streaming down his cheeks.
“Is it because I like guys?” his hands on your arms, forcing you to face him instead of scurrying away again “What? No!” you grab his hand “Of course not!” he shudders and drops into your embrace “Then why are you ignoring us?” his voice cracks so pitifully that it makes your chest ache. You both sink to the ground, arms wrapped around each other “I’m sorry Toru. I was just being stupid.” he presses his cheek against yours, wetting it with his tears “I thought you guys might not want me around, since you’re dating and all. I got insecure I think.” he lets out a choked sob and clutches you tighter “We’ll always want you around, nothing could change that.” Suguru joins you, waiting just around the corner to see how you would respond to Satoru.
He crouches next to you both “Us dating won’t affect our friendship.” Suguru brushes his hand across your hair and you lean into his touch “I’m sorry.” tears pool in your eyes as you realize how mean your actions had been “I just wanted to put space between us because I made assumptions. I should have talked to you first.” you whisper, ashamed.
The bond between you three only deepens, no secrets, no issues with communication, no problems whatsoever. Your friendship with them was the most stable thing in your life.
Suguru nudges you, bringing you back to the moment “What’s on your mind?” you rest your head against his “I was thinking about when Satoru thought I was a homophobe.” they both laugh “I remember that. Didn’t I end up buying you both mochi because neither of you would stop crying?” you nod, grinning “Yeah, Toru ate so much he got sick.” Suguru chuckles, reaching over you to lace his fingers with Satoru’s “That’s right, he refused to eat anything with red beans in it for months afterwards.” you all fall into a comfortable silence, reminiscing about your early years.
Eventually you settle back in bed, both of them cuddled up on either side of you. Suguru stroking his thumb over your knuckles and Satoru scraping his fingers lightly across your scalp. You hum at the sensation, your eyes sliding closed with a peaceful smile.
Satoru shifts and stills “You ever think about how we're all basically dating.” your eyes snap open and you jerk to face him, his own eyes wide as if he didn’t realize he said that out loud “Satoru!” Suguru hisses “Don’t say that, you’ll freak her out!” he yanks on his boyfriend's hand “Basically dating?” you finally chime in, heart pounding “What do you mean?” Satoru faces you painfully slow “Cause… Like…” he fidgets, his gaze flickering from you to Suguru who’s glaring at him “We’re all touchy, we cuddle, we spend all our free time together, we help you buy clothes and pick out outfits, we both know all your favorite foods…” he trails off again, locking eyes with Suguru who has the bridge of his nose pinched between his fingers, clearly stressed “And we both love you and you love us.” you prop yourself up on your elbows “Sure, but you’re both gay.” Suguru drops his hand, both of them staring at you gaping “We aren’t gay?” Satoru says, almost like it's a question.
“Huh?” you look between them “I’ve spent the night enough times to know what you guys do in the shower together, if that isn’t gay then I don’t know what is.” Suguru’s cheeks turn pink while Satoru chokes back a laugh “Neither of us are gay, we’re both bi.” it’s your turn to stare at them with an open mouth “Oh.” the only comfort in the past few years when those not so friendly feelings cropped up was the fact that they were gay and wouldn’t be attracted to you, so it made it easier to brush it off.
“Wait, have you thought we were gay this whole time?” you shamefully nod, there hadn’t really been a conversation about their sexuality, not that you really needed or wanted clarification, simply accepting that your two best friends were dating. Satoru covers his mouth, wheezing “That makes so much more sense now.” Suguru huffs, slumping back against his pillows “No kidding!” Satoru wipes tears of laughter away from his cheek “What makes sense?” you feel let out of a very obvious joke.
“We’ve been hitting on you for half our friendship dummy, we eventually gave up because we thought you weren’t interested and decided to accept it and date each other without you.” Satoru pats your head and you just blink up at him “Date,” they can almost hear the gears turning in your head “without me.” if you thought about it any harder steam would come out of your ears.
Satoru snorts “Idiot, we both wanted to date you and you date both of us.” something twists inside your chest, an overwhelming amount of different emotions, but even in your confusion you latch on to one stupid word “Wanted?” Suguru sits up “Still want.” he clarifies, his hand hovering over yours, unsure if you’d want affection after having all this unloaded on you all at once.
“Still want.” you repeat, swallowing tightly. They stay silent, giving you space to process however you need to.
“So you want to date me,” you point at Satoru, who nods “And you want to date me,” you point at Suguru, also nodding at you “But you also want to date each other and I date you both.” you point again, tracing an invisible line between them and you. Satoru’s smile drops, looking very serious as he gauges your reaction “It’s fine if you don’t want to, nothing would change between us if you don’t want it to. We’re both happy with whatever you’re willing to give us, platonic or not.” you lean against the headboard.
You hesitate, picking at your cuticles “It would just be us?” Satoru tilts his head, looking confused “Yes, just us three. We don’t want anyone else and we wouldn’t be willing to share you with anyone else.” Suguru responds for him, you feel the tension ease in your shoulders “And it would be like…” you trail off, suddenly feeling very shy "Committed? Like a real relationship?” its Suguru’s turn to look confused “What else would it be? Neither of us would find anything of value in a hookup or friends with benefits.” you shake your head, your cheeks warming “No, I mean,” you’re struggling to word your thoughts, your nailbeds picked raw “Are you asking if it would be public?” Satoru rests his hand over yours, stalling your anxious action.
They both knew you so well it hurts. You nod, not wanting to make eyes contact “Only if you want it to be. Relationships like this can be difficult to navigate in social situations, it can make a lot of people uncomfortable and you’d have to adjust to negative reactions.” Suguru reaches out to brush his fingertips against your cheek, flattening his palm when you lean into his touch “But we’d be by your side like always. Our relationship would be whatever you’re comfortable with.” you chew your lip, unsure how to respond.
Of course you’d considered it, late at night when you’re curled up alone in your own dorm, your bed feeling much too large and cold without them next to you, the thought of having them both to yourself would slip in and you'd shake it away just as quickly as it came.
Satoru’s thumb tugs your lip from between your teeth, you hadn’t even noticed you bit hard enough to draw blood “Easy there petal, don’t think so hard. Take you time, it’s a lot of information all at once.” they both guide you both back down, shifting you onto your side so Satoru can curl around you as a big spoon and Suguru can tangle his legs with yours, facing you “We can just stay like this if you want. Keep it like it’s always been.” you search his eyes, so dark brown that they’re almost black, reminding you of the rich chocolate cake you had shared with them a few years ago.
“This feels good.” you whisper, Satoru tightens his grip on your waist “It always feels best with both of you.” Suguru tucks his arm under your head “Then let us be with you like this, just with a different label.” he looks at you so earnestly that your hands tremble as you rest them against his chest, feeling how fast his heart is pounding “Boyfriend?” you swear you can feel his heart skip a beat before speeding up even more, a pretty pink flush spreading from his collarbone up to his face “I think he likes that.” Satoru whispers in your ear, making you shiver “If you’re willing.” Suguru says gently, laying his hand over Satoru’s that rests on your waist.
“It would be like this?” you ask and Satoru nuzzles his face against your cheek “Preferably with some kissing now and then, but that’s up to you.” your face warms against his “Yes, it would be like this. No pressure for anything other than this.” Suguru lightly smacks Satoru’s shoulder who giggles against your cheek.
“I guess,” you feel Satoru go completely still behind you “I’d be okay with that.” he lets out such a deep breath you’re surprised he didn’t combust “Oh thank god,” he whimpers, shoving his face in the crook of your neck “I think I would’ve blown myself up if you said no.” Suguru just sighs and rolls his eyes “My boyfriends are also each other's boyfriends.” you giggle, making Suguru melt “I like you calling us that.” he admits, scooting down to tuck his head under your chin. Satoru snuggles closer “I’m gonna marry you both one day.” he mumbles, catching you and Suguru off guard. Before either of you can respond he’s already snoring.
“It seems like you’re stuck with us.” Suguru says quietly. You cup his face, your whole body warm and cozy between them “I’m okay with that.” he presses a light kiss against your palm, holding it in place against his cheek.
stoner suguru who meets you in a dark alleyway and hands you little baggies or whatever you want, then presses you up against the wall and thrusts his angry cock deep inside of you. not caring about the grime of the alleyway or the chattering of groups walking past - unknowing that you two are sloppily fucking!!
stoner suguru who sometimes just shows up to your house, most of the time in the middle of the night, and he tells you he misses you with a sly smirk on his face!
stoner suguru who somehow convinces you to smoke with him, after you told him you didn't wanna that night, hit after hit after hit and you're soo high!
stoner suguru who laughs along with your giggles and places a hand firmly onto your inner thigh, you try to squirm away but his strong, rough hands don't let you!
he pushes you far into the sofa pillows and drags your pants down, ignoring your whines as you fuzzily look up at him. barely able to take in that his dick is entering you with such a force ><
stoner suguru who fucks you rough and hard, not caring about the way your head shakes or the tears that fall onto the plush couch.
stoner suguru who takes a few more hits and blows the smoke into your face, you cough as whines fall from your tongue when he finishes sooo deep inside of you!!
hopefully he gets you pregnant so you're stuck with him!
☆ synopsis ; there’s no romance between you and suguru. simply obedience dressed up as devotion. just bruises you begged for and silence you mistake for permission. you’re not the one he wants. but if it means staying close, you’ll let him ruin you with both hands—and thank him for the favor.
✦ content ; f!reader, fuckboy!suguru, fwb!dynamic, stoner!suguru, normie!reader, suguru x reader, slight satoru x reader, explicit sexual content, slow updates, explicit language, the three 'g's (gaslight, gatekeep, getoboss), emotional manipulation.
☆ warnings ; explicit sexual content, bdsm, kink exploration, degradation, oral (f!receiving), oral (f!receiving), spit kink, squirting, penetration (protected), penetration (unprotected), fingering, edging, choking, fainting during sex, exhibitionism, hate sex, threesome sex (f,m,m), double penetration, spanking, bondage, swallowing, abusive language, so much manipulation, non-committal behaviour, geto sucks, use of recreational drugs, substance abuse, making out, etc.
summary: satoru gojo and suguru geto, the bodyguards your father hired to keep you safe, have always taken their duty of serving you with unwavering seriousness. but over time, their steadfast loyalty has deepened into something unspoken, something far more complex. now, as your music career soars, their growing feelings threaten to blur, the boundaries between their obligation and their need for your affection.
cws: idols, threesome - f/m/m, double penetration, fluff and smut, reader is famous, but like ichiko aoba, her music inspired this kind of, death threats, mafia mentions, bodyguard satoru gojo, bodyguard suguru geto, love triangles, recreational drug use, just a little weed and just once, hurt/comfort, emotional sex, vaginal sex, bath sex, making love, yearning, mutual pining, forbidden love, rough sex, tender sex, unprotected sex, sex, overstimulation, social anxiety, praise kink, body worship, pet names, lots of pet names instead of y/n, breeding, creampie, loss of virginity, let's not get into my reoccurring virginity kink i'm fighting demons in real life okay, threats of violence, but not graphic at all, wc: ~4k
a/n: guess who's back with satosugu porn!! I tried to lace a little plot into this but this may have been inspired by some bodyguard art I saw on twitter (that I will link if I find it again) and I needed a cleanser from this idol au longfic that's been killing me for literal MONTHS. like since I finished girl trigger, I was drafting it and I still haven't fucking outlined it. I can't. I can't even think about it. YES i forgot how to write let's just blame it on climate change or men or something // this version is edited and cut different from the version on ao3 for the sake of censoring
Butterflies zip around you, not the slightest bit daunted or threatened by your presence in the chilly meadow. It’s unseasonably cold and the wind blows the frost off the surface of the ocean’s waves to spread mist and goosebumps along your exposed skin. Your gown is white and a bit of dust from the ground your belly lies upon rubs off on the pure fabric. You relax in the soft grass, wind blazing across your soft skin and causing the long gown to billow, exposing the similarly colored panties you’re wearing every few seconds.
You know that your bodyguards are watching you carefully, faithfully, from afar. They’re giving you space but still protecting you from nonexistent danger. The most dangerous thing you could encounter in this small coastal town you’ve chosen for yourself is common cold or a sunburn during the brief warm months. The butterflies thin out and a few ladybugs land in your hair. You suppose that you’re still deciding what to do today. You sigh.
Satoru and Suguru watch from a distance as you lounge in the meadow. They give you your space, plenty of time to get inspired by the serenity of the secluded meadow. A set of purple eyes and blue eyes bore into you, occasionally scanning the nearby wooded area for signs of danger, and then they land right back on you again. The edges of your gown fly up as it flutters in the breeze to reveal tantalizing glimpses of your skin. The sight sends shivers down their spines, though you remain oblivious—or indifferent—to their stares. Or, if you do, you don’t care to vocalize it. It’s probably for the best though. The bodyguards exchange a few tentative glances, communicating silently - Satoru with a knowing smirk and his counterpart with a scowl of barely restrained control.
“Behave yourself, Satoru,” Suguru’s voice comes out as a mature whisper, assertive enough to control his friend but quiet enough for you to remain clueless to the thoughts going on in the two men’s heads. Suguru chides his friend softly, his gaze fixed on your form hidden among the tall grass.
Satoru chuckles and crosses his arms over his chest. “How could I do anything less than behave when it comes to the safety of our charge? Have some faith.” Suguru only rolls his eyes in response. He knows that he’s not one to talk. Maybe sometimes he views you as a more than another work assignment and more like a delicate flower, ripe for the plucking, but he hides it better than his partner. Even as he thinks these thoughts, the dark-haired man can’t tear his gaze away from your exposed thighs; one of the prettiest parts of your body. He looks you in the eyes., watches as your eyes flutter shut as you exhale and think, indulge in one of the most intimate parts of your creative process.
Blue eyes pierce Suguru’s frigid body. He notices the way his friend stiffens every time you move your body and suck in a chilled breath, chest rising and falling. He smirks. “Self-control and all that.” He trails off suggestively, letting his imagination run wild with the possibilities. Such easy thoughts to get lost in when it comes to you. Two pairs of hungry eyes remain locks on you and you’re always so oblivious. They plot so often on how they could claim you and make this cute little pop star theirs but never cross the line because you trust them so much.
You sit up from the secluded meadow and turn to face your bodyguards. You get up, placing your hands in the dirt as you stand upright. You frown when you notice the strained expressions they wear. Looks like they’re unhappy here. You call to them as you walk barefoot through the soft earth, your body cutting through the grass with ease. “You guys bored?” You’ve been mentally composing in this meadow for hours and it’s their job to be there and watch you, protect you according to your father’s demands. “We can go somewhere more, I don’t know, less girly I guess.”
At the sound of your voice, both Satoru and Suguru startle slightly, having been engrossed in their private musings. They quickly school their features into neutral expressions as they approach you, all three of your bodies submerged in swaying grass. “Not at all, madam,” Satoru reassures you smoothly, flashing you a charming smile.
Suguru speaks up next to him. “We’re happy wherever you are.” His partner nods in agreement but both of their eyes rove over your form, taking in the way your gown has ridden up your body, exposing silky skin. Suguru’s fingers twitch with the urge to touch you and his body hums with electricity, shock waves surging through each of his veins.
Satoru takes a step closer, looming over you. “You know, princess, I bet there are all sorts of more exciting places we could escort you; even in this boring little town.” Boring? You wonder. You love this place. You picked this ‘boring little town’ for a reason, loving the quiet eerie place. “Places where you might get into a little trouble. Could be good for your writing.” His voice is a low purr, his meaning crystal clear, but you’re pretty used to Satoru’s innuendos.
Before you have the chance to answer, Suguru elbows his partner in the ribs and shakes his head, all seriousness. You can’t help but giggle. “Enough with that.” Suguru growls, ignoring the constant discomfort in his slacks in equal measure. Satoru teases that he’d never cross the line.
“You both know my father would kill you if we got into any real trouble.” You giggle, leaning down to brush grass and flowers from your body. “And anyway, I need to get some work done today. I don’t need them sending me fucking death threats over albums that I’ve promised and never released.” Your words fade a bit until your voice comes out as more a mumble.
The guys know who they are. They know that your fans can be a little intense and how it stresses you out, despite your music being ethereal pop and inspired by artists like Ichiko Aoba or Lily Chou-Chou. Despite your music being specially designed to implore your listeners to be gentle and feel serene. Places like microscopic coast towns and desolate meadows in the dead of autumn provide plenty of inspiration for you. Your bodyguards can see how hard you’re working on your music but your fans don’t see that and they never could. “Your fans would never threaten you, darling. They adore you. We all do.” Suguru assures you as the three of you begin making your way back to your quaint little cottage. He doesn’t think it’s very fair that you do so much and give so much and for basically nothing in return. But, as always, he does his job and keeps his mouth shut.
Satoru doesn’t. Though he does nod in agreement once more. He allows his gaze to linger on the sway of your hips as you walk in front of them the way you always do. You look good in anything, but that white dress was particularly enticing, hinting at everything beneath without being overt. “Fanatics. Just harmless fanatics, princess. They wanna be you so bad. That’s all.” Your white-haired guard drawls to comfort you in his own way.
“Yeah,” Suguru continues the sentiment as he walks in step with Satoru and carefully measured behind you. “They don’t see it up close like we do but they know how much of a gem you are.” He can’t see your face but he knows that you’re smiling at his words. As the trio of you walk, the guys find themselves stepping closer to you, drawn to you. They’re always like this, always so hopeless about you. They tell themselves it’s all to keep you safe, all to do their jobs. They tell themselves that they stick to you like glue to be ready should any threat arise but deep down, they know it’s more than that. It’s the need to be near you, to breathe you in, to feel the heat of your body…
Suguru snaps himself out of his own thoughts. “So you wanna tell us about this album?” You’ve been so tight-lipped about your progress but neither of your bodyguards ever waste an opportunity to coax details of it out of you. Suguru’s voice is low and intimate. “Experimenting with anything new?” You sigh and contemplate divulging anything as you walk along the grassy path to your stowaway home, a place your father bought you for when you need to work in private. It’s got much more classic and antique (mostly thrifted) furnishings in comparison to the lavish ones at your family’s estate.
“Nothing new.” You monotone, almost sounding defeated. The three of you bathe in the frostbitten air as you close in on the cottage. “I mean, it’ll be similar to previous work, yeah. I… I thought of trying something new - experimenting - but I don’t want to be the type of artist that trades on my name like that. I should just stick to what’s gotten me this far, right? I don’t want to lose my following and end up having to fall back on my daddy’s money.” The three of you make it to the only place that ever provides you with absolute privacy and you turn the rusting knob before entering, never having to lock it up in a place like this.
You’re about to take your place at the antique piano but no melodies are filling you head. You hesitate and look at the guys, as if searching for a distraction in the pair. Suguru provides a soft look, can’t help but admire your dedication to your craft. Even when you’re not in the public eye, music is clearly your greatest passion. He notes the slight furrow in your brow as you hesitate by the piano and his protective instincts surge.
“Hey,” He speaks gently, moving to stand beside you. “You’ve got a gift, you know that. Don’t put so much pressure on yourself. You fans know who you are and love you. They love you.” Suguru steps closer to you, feeling the expectation that you feel your piano has for you. He crosses the distance between you and softly takes your smaller hand in his. “Not just your sound. So experiment.” He urges you, words coming out more protective than anything else. “Have fun with it, baby.” And there are a few moments of silence before you dare yourself to meet his lavender eyes but, when you do, you’re met with deep pools of adoration and support.
When you look to Satoru, the same thing is found in him. He nods to reaffirm his partner’s words. He takes a few short strides towards you as well and places his hands on your shoulders, a light touch filled with hesitance. Satoru’s thumbs rub soothing circles into your skin through the thin fabric of your dress. He doesn’t let his thoughts surrender to his baser instincts. He doesn’t let himself feel any jealousy at the fact that his partner was the one to really drive home the point that you needed to hear, knowing that Suguru has more of a way with words. It’s one of the things that he both respects and envies about him.
He comforts you in the same way that Suguru does, assures you that you’re perfect and can do no wrong when you’re in front of the piano. “Baby, you could release an album of cat noises and your fans would buy it. Stop worrying so much.” He squeezes your shoulders affectionately. The white-blond reaches out to brush a stray lock on hair behind your ear only to let his fingers linger on your cheek. “And if it really bother you that much, we can always provide some… inspiration.” He quirks an eyebrow up suggestively.
Suguru sighs a bit defeated, but you laugh the suggestive words off. “Leave it to him to make it sexual somehow.” He sighs. “What I think Satoru means,” He interjects a bit diplomatically, “Is that we’re here for you. In whatever way you need.” You nod, cheeks rising up with gratitude for the men. You allow them to direct you back towards the old piano.
You giggle once more at Satoru’s sense of humor, at their reliable back and forth with each other, and allow them to seat you at the bench. You take a seat and let your fingers grace the keys delicately. You only take a moment to look through your journal of music note, ideas that may have come to you in less than conventional ways, small trinkets taped to the pages like lucky charms - thickening the book and requiring an elastic band to even close the covers. “Thank you guys.” You whisper, as your eyes rove over pages that only exist as proof that you used to be a much more effortless talent. You don’t space another look to the guards as you feel yourself shifting into artist mode. “I may take you up on that suggestion one day.” You mumble, feeling like it’s the only way you’ll ever get back to the type of artist that you used to be. You don’t really bother thinking your words over before you say them.
Satoru and Suguru exchange a glance as you get absorbed in your music, the familiar shift in focus that occurs whenever you’re sitting at the piano. The instrument seems to fill you with varying degrees of expectation and they hit you all in merciless waves. It’s both endearing and frustrating, the way you can tune everything out in pursuit of your art. As if they, the men who dedicate and risk their lives to protecting and serving you, aren’t standing in the room with you right now.
Suguru moves closer to peer over your shoulder at your journal, marveling at the eclectic collection of mementos and scribbles, recognizing a few small objects from other places that they’ve escorted you to. “Quite the creative process you have there. All of these little reminders of moments and musings. It’s intimate, somehow.”
As expected, Satoru scoffs at the words. He leans in for a better look for himself. “Intimate? It’s chaotic. Looks like a toddler got ahold of a glue stick and went to town.” Once again, Gojo earns an elbow in the ribs but the wall of muscles barely moves now that he’s expecting the blows.
You smile and ignore the men’s signature banter, always finding them endearing no matter what. You love them both. The minutes tick by, the only sound the gentle tapping of keys and distant cry of gulls outside. Both men remain rooting in place, loath to leave your side even as the silence stretches. You, your essence, draws them in like gravity. When you begin to tap away and press the keys with meaning and a bit more purpose, a melody that you’ve been absently humming for weeks begins to take a more deliberate shape. It’s tune is wistful. Despite not having lyrics, it’s innocent. As innocent and pure as you are. You begin to hum in tune with the careful piano strokes. The tune you compose is clearly born out of love, sprung from adoration that you harbor for you guards; them being the only people that have ever supported you so fully and whole-heatedly.
As the pair watches you lose yourself in the music, your own unique sound filing the modest room, Satoru and Suguru listen with rapt attention. The melody is hauntingly beautiful, tinged with a wistful yearning that resonates deeply with them. They exchange a meaningful glance and let all jokes and previous advances fall away. It’s clear that they both realize the implication in your music, the unmistakable and always unspoken emotion woven into every note.
It’s a love song, Satoru wants to vocalize. A song born out of adoration and devotion, written for someone who holds your heart or at least someone that could hold your heart. And though you remain oblivious to their affections, both men know that you compose for them. Not your parasocial fans. Whether you know it yourself or not, it’s for them. Satoru feels his throat tighten, feels his eyes begin to burn with a few unshed tears. To be loved so purely, as pure as your melodies, so innocently… it’s a binding realization. Like Satoru, it humbles Suguru. The way your fingers intricately produce such a sound is a far cry from their own base desires concerning you. It’s miles away from their own fantasies for you, the positions they’re guilty of dreaming of putting you in. They both vow to be worthy of such a precious gift, of your music or your heart.
Your dark-haired bodyguard, ever the romantic, allows himself a soft smile. He’s always known your capacity for love, your ability to find beauty and goodness even in the darkest situations. To be the object of such affection is both thrilling and terrifying. Terrifying because he fears he’ll never be able to give you what you truly deserve. What you truly need. They both know what you need and, as much as it hurts, you can’t get it from either of them. As the final note fads away, both men are slow to move, reluctant to break the spell you seamlessly put them under. They hover near the piano, torn between the desire to comfort and congratulate you, and the fear of overstepping. Of shattering the fragile bubble of vulnerability you create with your music.
Suguru breaks the silence first when you don’t turn around to face them, shivering under their burning gazes. “You’re incredible.” He whispers breathlessly. “God, you’re so talented.” The brief sentences are the only ones he could possibly squeeze out of his throat with million thoughts racing through his brain, he chooses the safe words that he knows won’t betray him by alluding to his true feelings. Upon a glance next to him, he can tell that Satoru has opted for silence, not able to trust himself as much.
His companion does nod in agreement after a moment. He parts his lips, seems to second guess a few words. “Absolutely, baby. I felt every note. Like you were… singing to my soul.” He words his compliment as best he can, in attempt to reach you without being clumsy or relying on his usual flirtatious quirks.
You turn to face them, clearly flushing at their words and you duck your head shyly. Your guards never fail to compliment you well. They always prioritize making you feel good about your work, more than your own father ever did and you find yourself parroting the mafia man’s words. “It couldn’t have been that good.” You speak to them quietly, meekly, as if you worry that you don’t even deserve the praise. “I mean, I just thought of it.”
The two of them exchange a look, both struck by the sheer modesty you always wear so silently. For someone so immensely gifted, you remain so humble and so unaware of the power you wield within your music. It’s yet another thing to love about you, another facet of your loveliness that draws the two of them in like moths to a flame.
Satoru speaks up first, tutting at the way you’re so quick to put yourself down - likely to the fault of your father. “Don’t see yourself short like this,” He leans in and takes your hand in his when he chides gently. “That was more than just good. You have to know that, baby.” He calls you by his usual pet name and squeezes your hand.
Suguru, on your other side, nods in agreement, moving to crouch down beside you on the bench. “You’re so talented. Should be celebrated, not dismissed. You’re too hard on yourself sometimes, princess. Accept the praise, revel in you gift. It’s apart of what makes you so perfect. And don’t ever forget that.” He reaches out to tilt your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze. “We won’t let you forget it.” The two of them sandwich you between their larger frames, hell-bent on making you understand the way they feel about your music.
You smile shyly at their affection, the warmth of their touch unfamiliar, yet grounding. You gently pull away from their grasp, and they know by now—know you well enough to understand—that you’re not used to this much praise, this much tenderness. It makes you feel seen, in a way your father never did. The thought stings, but you push it aside, your heart still full from the love they give you, love you didn’t even know you could accept.
You rise from the bench, scribbling down the notes of your song before the melody slips away, then make your way toward the kitchen to prepare a pot of herbal tea. Satoru and Suguru share a quiet glance as you move, the unspoken understanding between them as clear as if it were written in the air: you’re not ready for more, not yet. And they won’t push, won’t risk overwhelming you. It’ll remain a secret, one you share in silence.
As you turn to the kitchen, the space between them grows. They let you have your moment, but the silence is heavy, filled with unsaid words and the flicker of something deeper. Their desire is tempered by the fierce protectiveness they feel for you—burning just beneath the surface, held in check for now, but a quiet storm nonetheless. Suguru watches you carefully as you bustle around the kitchen, pouring water into the teapot and setting the stove to medium heat. He wishes that he could vocalize all of the thoughts that he usually has about you, wishes that he could tell you how capable and independent he thinks you are. A true artist, pursuing your dreams on your own terms, even when you’re lacking support from the one person you truly need it from. He wishes that he could tell you exactly how highly he thinks of you.
Satoru watches as you move about the kitchen, loves the domesticity that wafts around you. He pulls up a stool and rests his chin in his hands and his eyes are glued to you. The sound of the kettle whistling draws their attention, and they watch as you pour the steaming water over fragrant tea leaves. The domestic scene, so simple yet so intimate, stirs something deep within the men’s chests. “Do you guys want any?” You ask from in front of the cupboards, displaying the non-matching mugs that you’ve gotten from thrift stores they’ve escorted you to in the past. “I know you both say you always need to stay alert but.. no one knows I’m here. No reason to not unwind, I guess. We could even smoke a little tonight.
Satoru’s eyes light up at your offer, an expected reaction. A slow grin spreads across his face. “Well, since you put it like that,” He stands up and claps his hands together. He moves to join you behind the kitchen island and help you gather the mugs up. “Hadn’t noticed the collection getting so big.” He mumbles before humming appreciatively and taking a cartoon-themed mug for himself.
Your dark-haired bodyguard remains rooted in place. “I don’t know.” He furrows his brow in concern. “We shouldn’t let our guard down completely just because it’s a little quiet, just because no one knows you’re here doesn’t mean it’s safe.” But even as Suguru voice his concerns, he knows it’s losing battle. He watches as Satoru ignores every word he’s said and pours the fragrant tea into each mug in equal parts. When his deep violet eyes land on you, he finds your expression pleading and feels himself give in.
Finally, the temptation of your company, of sharing in this quiet moment and giving into a bit of earthly pleasure with you is too strong to resist; even with his own usual professional. With a sigh, he pushes off the wall and approaches the counter. He sighs. “Fine. One cup. But we’re still on duty, Gojo, got it? First sign of any trouble and we need to be ready.”
“Fucks sake, you take yourself way too seriously, Suguru. Don’t worry, we won’t compromise your noble duties.” Satoru lightly punches him in the shoulder, in an attempt to disturb his rigid stature. He shakes his head and places the three steaming mugs on a carrying tray. Your white haired guard looks down to you. “What about you, sweet girl? You wanna loosen up a little, right?”
Suguru’s eyes narrow at the subtle emphasis, his mind immediately conjuring images of you inhaling deeply, your lips wrapped around… He quickly shakes off the thought, disgusted with himself. Now is not the time for such base fantasies. He needs to focus on the task at hand, on ensuring your safety and comfort, everything that he was ever trained to do. He watches you prepare the tea, the way your pretty fingers handle the delicate cups, he can’t help but imagine what else those hands might be capable of. He’s sure that his partner is thinking the same type of things but he still shakes his head to escape those thoughts.
“Stash is upstairs. In my bedroom.” The two men share a loaded glance at your innocent invitation, their pulses quickening at the thought of being alone with you in your bedroom. Upstairs, where you keep your most personal sanctuary. Where your defenses are naturally lowered, you’re more relaxed, your inhibitions laid bare. They hardly ever go in there, both respecting your privacy at all times.
“Lead the way, angel,” Satoru rumbles, his voice rougher than usual. He gestures for you to proceed, one hand resting lightly on the small of your back as he guides you towards the stairs. Suguru follows close behind, his eyes eyes glued to the sway of your hips as you climb. The casual domesticity of the moment is belied by the electric tension crackling in the air between the three of you.
Once in the bedroom, Satoru’s eyes scan the area without shame, having always been curious about your bedroom. A few drawings and photographs litter the wall, tacked up with colorful pushpins. The glossy hardwood floors shine, free of anything. The bed is made, neat, dressed up with pale skirts and fluffy pillows. He sets the tea tray down and watches as you reach into your bedside table to retrieve a small, ornate wooden box. “You guys know I don’t usually… not unless I need to get into the right head-space. It helps.” Your fingers tremble as you do something you’ve done a hundred times. You spark up the end of the rolled joint and try to stay relaxed under the weight of their gazes.
Satoru grins widely like a Cheshire cat and takes the lit joint from you, marveling at the way your touch lingers on his. “Well,” He sucks the end of it and leans into you. “I want us to have the same head space, princess.” The scent of the marijuana lingers on his breath and you find yourself breathing in when your mouths are closer to each other than they’ve ever been since you met. “Can’t have you show me up. Make me look uncool.”
You fall back onto the bed and watch as Satoru helps himself, immediately noticing the difference in him when he’s totally sober and when he’s not. Carefully, you observe him as he relines in bed with you and passes the smoking joint to Suguru who looks as though he’s finally decided to give in to you and Satoru’s peer pressure. Their fingers brush in the transfer and the two men feel the same amount of electricity as you feel when the two of them touch you. Slowly, the two of you in bed watch Suguru puts it in his mouth, sharing an indirect kiss with the both of you. His movements are deliberate and controlled as he sheds his hesitance and lets the drug do what it’s supposed to be. He’s acutely aware of the intimacy of the moment, trio of you are. Both of the men can feel the trust you’re placing them as you share this, usually private, ritual.
Most of what you do is usually in the solitude of your bedroom, leaving them just outside the door or lingering in the hallways wondering what you’re doing when you’re alone. The majority of the time, you’re busy writing when you’re locked up in here. You could never tell them how lonely that gets sometimes though. You glance at Satoru and watch him. He’s starring at Suguru, eyes glazing over with an emotion that’s foreign to you. He watches Suguru’s every move with hooded eyes. And then you’re watching him too when he stretches his hand to pass it back to you, continuing the rotation.
You take it gently, feeling edges of your awareness blur and fade away. Anything you were feeling before the deep exhale has been long forgotten. You suck in more of the musky air and feel their eyes bore into you as the smoke curls from your lips in lazy spirals and you let Satoru take it again. “Thank you, guys,” You don’t know exactly what you’re thanking them for but you do so without thinking and they hang onto all of your words as you breathe, voice already taking on a dreamy quality. “You guys… you’re the best.”
Without hesitance, he takes the hit and lets his back fully hit the duvet. With even less hesitance, he tells you that you’re welcome even if he’s not sure what you’re thanking him for. He runs a hand through his fluffy white hair and breathes an incoherent word of pleasure into the air. You find yourself hanging on by a thread and fall back too. As Suguru takes his turn, he savors the familiar burn, the rush of euphoria. He’s been craving this all day, the chance to let go, to lose himself in sensation but he could never admit it to himself and definitely not to your face. The tension thickens as the three of you lazily wade your way through it.
The rotation continues, back and forth, and the three of you let the smoke turn the air hazy and sweet. You watch them with half-lidded eyes and let a soft melody, a brand new tune, play languidly in your mind. A small smile plays on your lips as you watch the, two men whose job it is to be bruiting and intimidating but have only ever treated you with kindness and care, let their inhibitions fall away for your sake. For the sake of getting closer to you.
Both men don’t need to vocalize how intoxicating it is to see you like this. It’s already understood. You’re so different now. So open, so vulnerable. Suguru fights the urge to crawl into the bed and join the two of you, convinced that he’d pull you into you into his arms and never let go. He restrains himself, content for now to simply bask in your new aura. You’re more than just different when you’re like this. You’re an entirely different person. That girl that’s usually too shy, too afraid to speak her mind, is gone and you’re giggling as you take faithful puffs from the dwindling joint shared between the three of you. Suguru memorizes every detail of you face, the way your expression softens with each his exhale.
When it’s finally spent and reduced to a small pile of ash, Satoru crushes it out in the small ashtray on your nightstand. He feels the effects creeping in, a pleasant warmth spreading from his core. “Feeling good, darling?” He leans over and looks at you with bleary vision. “‘Cause I’m feeling good.” His voice is low and rough.
Suguru watches you closely as you nod. You sigh in the pit of your bed, fluffy and covered with piles of blankets and stuffed animals. You part your lips slowly, soft breath rushing out in quick bursts. You let your eyes roll into the back of your head and your chest rises and falls slowly. When you arch your back and let your hands run over the fluffy texture of the blanket beneath you, Suguru watches you for a moment longer before he finally gives in and gets into bed with the two of you. He lets the body high take over his senses and knows he’d fail miserably if danger struck now, but he can’t bring himself to care—not when you’re like this, not when you’ve let him in.
You wind up sandwiched between your two bodyguards once again. Satoru doesn’t shy away from placing a hand on your hip and pressing his body close to yours, feeling you. “You guys…” You whisper, eyes hooded. And Suguru holds your waist and presses his front into your back, nuzzling his face into your neck and inhaling your scent shamelessly. “I do feel so good.” Both men notice the heat radiating from your fevered skin under their touches. “And I… I love you guys. I’d be all alone without you. Would you…” Tears slip down your cheeks but you hardly notice. You don’t hold back all of the emotions that you’ve been hiding for longer than you can remember. Maybe since the day you were born.
“Would you be with me even if my father didn’t pay you to be? I wonder that all the time.” Your cheeks go tear-stained before you know it and your eyelids swell. Even when overcome with all of these emotions that you couldn’t express without something to make you a little more uninhibited, the guys watch you silently and they both think that you’re all that matter to them. “Even if it’s a lie… could you just say yes?”
Both men are silent, watching you in awe, captivated by the way the haze strips you bare. In this moment, you’re the most beautiful thing they’ve ever seen. Satoru and Suguru share a pained glance at your words, their hearts twisting at the vulnerability in your tone. To hear you express uncertainty, such doubt in their loyalty would be too much to bear if they weren’t sure that your childhood played a factor in making you worry about things like this. Suguru moves to the edge of the bed, his hand reaching out to brush a stray tear from you chin. “Oh, honey,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion, “Never doubt that. We’d be by your side no matter what, money or no money.” Your raven-haired bodyguard pulls you tightly against him. “You’re everything to me.”
“Us.” Satoru corrects, without a moments hesitation. He pulls you back to him as if playing tug-of-war with your body. His tone is firm, his eyes meeting Suguru’s in a silent challenge. “You’re everything to us. Both of us.” And he gives Suguru a curt and combative look. “You’re our world.” He cups your cheeks in his hand and looks down at you, fighting the strongest urge to kiss you deeply. The gesture is tender, almost reverent. His thumb traces the curve of your cheekbone, eyes searching yours to fully suss out anymore doubt in his words.
Behind you, Suguru thinks that your father doesn’t deserve you. Doesn’t deserve to have ever known you or to be related to you. Your father doesn’t deserve to see what he and Satoru see in you. The brilliance, the beauty, the adoration. You were meant for so much more than he could ever give you. He leans in, his forehead resting against the back of your neck. “We don’t have to lie to you. We’d both never leave your side. No matter what.”
Your eyes flutter closed at the influx of closeness, their tenderness. It’s almost to much, the weight of their devotion and unwavering faith in you. You lie there, stuck between the two men who would move mountains for you, and you allow yourself to bathe in it. To embrace the warmth of their presence, the solidity of their promise. When you’re with them, you don’t feel alone. Satoru and Suguru are only capable of making you feel protected and loved.
As your breathing even out and your eyes remain shut, the two men exchange a glance over your prone form. The tenderness and absolute trust you place in them are both humbling and terrifying.
Satoru brushes a stray lock of hair from your face, marveling at the softness of your skin, the delicate flush of your cheeks. In sleep, you look so innocent, so untouched by the harsh realities of the world, of the very things they’re tasked with protecting you from. “Beautiful,” he breathes, his voice barely audible.
His whisper is just loud enough for Suguru to hear and he nods, his gaze lingering on the gentle rise and fall of your chest. He cranes his neck to give Gojo a serious expression. “Every day I feel like we’re protecting her more from herself than anyone or anything else.” He worries for you, worries that your own doubts and insecurities will eat away at you until there’s nothing left of you. He can’t lose you. Not like that. All that he wants is for you to be strong, to be steady. He wants to show you that you’re worthy of love and respect.
“Hey,” Gojo doesn’t pull his hand away from your body, not interested in disturbing your sleep, but he uses his free hand to reach out and squeeze Suguru’s shoulder as a silent acknowledgment of the bond they share and the mutual devotion to your well-being. “She'll be okay, man.” There’s a bit of finality to Satoru’s response. They settle in around you, one on either side, their bodies a protective barrier against the unknown. Suguru’s hands find yours, intertwining their fingers in a silent vow.
Suguru kisses the back of your neck gently, slowly. Satoru smashes his lips against your fevered forehead, a promise. And the night wears on ans you sleep between your men. Your men who would die for you in an instant. They remain vigilant at your sides. The gentle rise and fall of your chest, the warm scent of you skin… they’re both comforting and maddening, a constant reminder of what they cannot have. Suguru’s gaze traces the delicate curve of your neck, the swell of your breast beneath the thin fabric of your gown. His thumb absently strokes your knuckles, memorizing the feel of your hand in his. He knows that he shouldn’t be feeling this way, shouldn’t be indulging in such base thoughts. Not when you have so much to worry about, so much to do, so much more to prove to the world.
You’re their princess, their charge. To lust after you, to see you as anything less than sacred and untouchable… it’s a betrayal of the trust you’ve placed in them. Right? These thoughts are… wrong, right? Fuck, you’re just so perfect. So warm and inviting. So delectable. It’s a constant struggle to keep his hands to himself, to maintain the distance you deserve. Beside him, Satoru watches you with a similar hunger in his eyes. His hands rest faithfully on your hip, a possessive claim that sends a surge of jealousy through Suguru’s veins. He knows that he doesn’t have any right to feel that way. He doesn’t mind loving you at the same time as his partner.
Deep down inside, he knows that. Satoru shuts his eyes slowly, visibly fighting against the fatigue but ultimately succumbing to it. Suguru lets out an exhale and hugs you even tighter to himself, slowly he allows himself to give in as well. But, before he does, his final thoughts are of you and Satoru. He considers the delicate balance that the three of you have worked so hard to cultivate in the recent years. He knows that these nights won’t last forever. One day, you’ll wake, and they’ll be one step closer to losing you—to something greater than them both.
Two sets of eyes bore into you, blue and purple, as you casually walk along the lines of clothes racks in the small town’s only clothing store. You’re used to them watching you like hawks with all of this ferocity but they don’t need to in a place like this. You love small areas where no one knows who you are and you don’t have to wear sunglasses or a face mask to protect your identity from fans and anyone that might wish you harm. “You two don’t have to come shop with me in a small town like this, you know?” You look at the both of them before letting your eyes scan the store. “There are like four people in here. You’re bored, aren’t you?” You don’t mention the way they look entirely out of place in the intimates section.
Satoru’s eyes rake over the racks of clothing, his expression far from bored and disinterested. The soft fabrics and delicate lace hold plenty of appeal for him and he’s intrigued. With every bra and panty set he comes across, he can’t help but think you’d look perfect in. Suguru on the other hand much prefers the sturdy material of his tactical gear, the weight of his weapons at his side. The flimsy garments seem woefully inadequate for the realities of his world. He’d be lying if he claimed to not be interested in having you try some of them on for him though. He’s just less upfront about it than his partner.
Satoru, not at all concerned with hiding the fact that he’s immensely enjoying watching you shop for underwear, runs his fingertips over a particularly sheer bra, a wicked gleam in his eye. “Mmm, this would look stunning on you, baby. The pink suits your complexion perfectly.” Suguru doesn’t hesitate to shoot his partner a withering glare, jaw clenching in irritation.
“Focus, Satoru.” His voice a mature lull, demanding Satoru act with more respect when in your presence. “We’re protecting her, not ogling her underwear.” But Geto, makes a hypocrite of himself when he lets his gaze drift to your from, tot he curve of your hips and the way your pretty legs gracefully carry you through the racks. The though of you wearing those delicate scraps of fabric, skin bared to his hungry eyes, sends a bolt of heat straight through the pit of his stomach. He shifts his stance, willing his body to behave. To remember his place, his duty.
Satoru only laughs his comment off and leans in close to your ear. “Don’t listen to that wet fucking blanket, sweetheart. I know you’re having a wonderful time. I know I am. Watching you pick out cute panties is a pleasure I don’t take lightly.” He provides a soft smile, his pearly teeth on display. His breath ghosts over your skin, hands coming to rest on your shoulders. “But I’m holding out for the private fitting.”
That’s when Suguru’s hand flies to his partner’s shoulder hard enough to bruise. “Enough,” he growls, his voice a low warning. “Don’t cross the line.”
Satoru begrudgingly averts his gaze from your body to meet Suguru’s purple eyes evenly, a challenge glinting within. “Or what? You gonna punish me if I do?”
You shake your head and hold your hands up, signaling for them to stop squabbling. “Guys,” You snap them out of their interaction before they go too far. “If you kill each other, we’ll never make it back to the cottage and then who will I try on all this pretty lingerie on for?” You flash suggestive eyes at the both of them, despite being unsure of how your words truly affect the men under your father’s employ.
At your words, both of the men’s eyes darken with barely restrained desire at your audacious words and Suguru’s grip on Satoru’s shoulder tightens painfully. The thought of you trying on those flimsy scraps of lace for them, baring your flesh to their hungry gazes and all with that adorable smile of yours on… it’s almost too much to bear. Almost dizzying.
Suguru takes a deep breath to get himself under control, find that same rule that he usually has. He wants to throw you over his shoulder and carry you out of there, to bring you to your bedroom, make it certain that he’s not playing games, because this playful and seductive creature before him… is not some innocent little girl they’ve been hired to protect. No, this is a woman who knows exactly what she’s doing. Who wields her power like a weapon, leaving destruction in her wake. And fuck, if that doesn’t turn him on like nothing else.
Satoru, for his part, seems equally affected. His chest heaves with each ragged breath, his pupils blown wide with want. But unlike Suguru, he doesn’t seem inclined to act on it. “Easy, big guy,” he murmurs, voice low enough to not disturb any of the other patrons of the store. “Let’s not do anything rash. We’re in public, after all.” He turns to you, a roguish grin tugging at his lips. “Besides, I think our princess is just trying to rile us up. Isn’t that right?” He reaches out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind your, his touch lingering for just a beat too long. “Teasing us like this… not very nice of you.” He tuts his bottom lip out in a faux pout.
You only smile as you make your way out of the shop, bag in hand. “Of course, I’m teasing. How could I not when it’s so easy and fun?” You giggle. They follow closely behind you as they always do. Suguru looks strained but remains silent. Satoru chuckles at your word, his eyes gleaming with mischief as he falls into step beside you. “Oh, it’s fun alright. Seeing you work us up like that, sweet torture. I might just tease you right back.” Gojo flashes a signature smirk and lowers his tone, his body language exuding suggestiveness. He’s not holding it back anymore.
It coaxes a scowl out of Suguru, his jaw clenching with frustration. “Watch your mouth, Gojo! She’s not a toy for you to wind up.” His gaze rakes over your form, even as he says these words. He takes you in, the pert bounce of your chest with each step. He makes a hypocrite of himself again when he finds himself putting in effort to ignore the urge to grab you, to pin you against the nearest wall, let your skin rake over the brick and mortar, take what you so blatantly offer. Suguru lets himself grow overwhelmed.
“Ignore him, baby. He’s just grumpy because he wants you all to himself. Doesn’t think I deserve any because I’m not as a tightly-wound.” He sticks his tongue out at Geto. “So toxic of you.” Satoru slings an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. “You’re the one who’s always trying to get into her panties anyway. Isn’t that right, Suguru? You can tell can’t you, sweetheart?”
Your smile fades at his words, never hearing what you’ve always known put in such a blatant way. “He’s always…. what?” At the sound of the tremble in your voice, Satoru’s cocky smile falters. His gaze flicks to Suguru’s with a trace of guilt. He’d pushed too far, said too much. It’s obvious. Now the delicate balance the three of you have worked so hard to maintain feels much more fragile because of it.
Satoru’s eyes slowly widen in panic when he notices the way your expression tilts into something foreign. “I… I didn’t mean… fuck, baby girl, I’m sorry. I’m just, I’m tired and cranky and not thinking straight. You know how it is when you make me get up so early in the morning for shit like this,” He motions to the racks of underwear that you were just rifling through. Satoru lets a million different excuses for his slip up come out.
“It’s nothing, not like that.” Suguru backtracks, his voice low and urgent. He knows that his words must ring hollow in your ears though. You’re not stupid, you’re not blind. Only a fool would assume you’ve never noticed the way the two men look at you, eye-fuck you, starving glares clinging to you as if you were their only lifeline. They always blame it on the fact that you’re the only woman they ever see for weeks at a time, sometimes months, but they know it isn’t true. The tension that’s always simmering beneath the surface, always threatening to boil over, is too real to be something different or to have gone unnoticed after all this time. He runs a hand over his face, his shoulders slumping in defeat. “Look, we’ve got a lot going on, okay? Things are complicated all over.” Suguru shifts lightly on his feet, the slight clanging of his gear under his clothes breaking through the dead silence between the two of you.
Satoru looks to Suguru and is granted a nod, in solidarity. His expression softens. “What he’s trying to say is, we care about you. More than we probably should. And it’s… it’s confusing, and frustrating, and… complicated.” Satoru rushes the words out and you’re unsure of how to respond.
You stop walking, turning to face them with a look of hurt and confusion. “What are you both talking about? Why are you acting as if it’s wrong to care for me?” It feels strange, hearing someone grow so apologetic at the revelation of loving you. You love them, both of them. They’re the only people you see most days too and the three of you spend so much time together that you’re nearly family. “Did I do something wrong?” You gasp, feeling your knees wobble under your weight.
Satoru’s heart clenches at the vulnerability in your voice, the doubt and wonder in your eyes. He reaches out to cup your face and allow his thumb to brush your cheek. “Fuck, no, princess. You’re the most precious thing in the world to us. Suguru didn’t mean what he said. We both get a little competitive sometimes. That’s all.”
Next to him, Suguru nods in agreement, his eyes beseeching. “You’re everything, darling. Everything we’ve ever wanted or needed. But…”
Before Suguru gets to finish his thought, you purse your lips and avoid both sets of their eyes. You turn away from them and take the items in your hands to the small checkout towards the front of the store. As always, they follow close behind you but remain just as silent. You only speak up again when the three of you are out on the sidewalk of the shop, shrouded in the same low-hanging clouds. You hesitate before them. “We… don’t have to talk about things like this guys.”
Suguru’s heart sinks at your words, at the way your shoulders stiffen and your gaze drops. He feels you pull away from them — not just physically, but emotionally. This wasn’t how he’d imagined this moment. Not in some absurd spat while shopping, surrounded by racks of lingerie. He wants to comfort you, to reassure you of your worth but, instead, the two of them have only managed to change things. He steps forward, knowing full well he’s on thin ice, but the pull toward you is irresistible. Even now, when your expression shifts into something unreadable, he can’t help but try.
His hand hovers over your shoulder, hesitating—his usual confidence replaced by an uncharacteristic uncertainty. The air between you feels fragile, like the slightest wrong move could shatter it entirely. “We didn’t mean to upset you,” he says softly, his voice careful, almost pious. The words feel insufficient, but they’re all he has in the moment. “It’s… sudden, I know. And it’s not your fault for not being ready to hear it.”
His white-haired companion shifts beside him, uncharacteristically silent as his jaw works, ready to grind out the right words since his usually level-headed companion isn’t. “Yeah, princess,” he finally murmurs, his tone subdued. You catch the nearly apologetic smile tugging at the corners of his lips, though it’s fleeting. His brilliant blue eyes flick to Suguru’s a glance that says more than words could— How do we fix this, man? “We’ve been handling this all wrong,” he admits, softer than you’ve ever heard him speak. “But you’re right. Let’s just drop it for now.”
The last thing either of them want is to overwhelm you, so Suguru agrees by keeping his mouth shut. He only reaches out to tuck a bit of your hair behind your ear. His hand moves slowly, brushing a strand of your hair back behind your ear. The touch is feather-light, trembling with restraint, and yet it carries the weight of all the things he can’t bring himself to say. He lingers for just a moment, long enough to feel the warmth of your skin under his fingertips before he pulls away. You seem, for a short moment, that you want to lean into his touch and welcome it but you remain silent and trembling with an array of emotions that you don’t know how to process.
The man wants to plead with you. He wants to beg for you to think of him as more than just your bodyguards, both of them. He wants to ask you to give them a chance, don’t push them away. They want to tell you that they can be all that you need.
He wants to plead with you, beg for you to think of them as more than just your bodyguards — both of them. He wants to ask you for a chance and he wants to say all that’s been lodged in his chest for months, years, maybe longer—that you mean more to him than any job ever could, that his heart beats with every step you take. We can be the men you deserve. The words echo in his mind, unspoken but deafening. He wants to promise you that they’ll protect not just your body but your heart as well, that they’ll shoulder your burdens, your fears, and every piece of you that you’re too afraid to show the world. It’s not just their job anymore. You’re their world. They want to blurt it all out but they don’t. Now isn’t the time.
Suguru watches the way Satoru steps back, deferring to your need for space. It’s a wise move, one Suguru knows he should be emulating, but the pull is stronger that his will. He wants to give you what you need — distance, understanding — but every instinct in him screams to reach out, to close the gap, to tell you everything and, if he knows Satoru Gojo even a little bit, he’s fighting a similar cocktail of urges.
A pregnant moment of silence passes by the trio of you. You wordlessly reach a hand out to him and hand over the shopping bag that you’ve been clutching, your frustration crinkling the plastic loops until they’ve become stressed with your strength. When he takes it, you turn on your heels and walk in the direction of the cottage. The two of them share another glance and put some space between you and themselves as they tail you as per their job description. Ultimately, they both fall into the compromise.
“Smooth.” Gojo chides his friend.
Suguru rolls his eyes and mutters for him to shut the hell up, just hushed enough for you to not hear him. “That was your fucking fault,” He growls. Sometimes, he wants to punch all of the jackass qualities out of his friend, especially when they end up teetering on ledges like this — especially when it concerns you.
The blonde groans and scratches the back of his head. He adjusts his glasses on the bridge of his nose and fidgets a bit. “If I can be honest, I didn’t think she’d take it that seriously.” Gojo lets out a fake sigh of defeat. “She usually laughs at my jokes.” He sticks out his tongue and clasps his hands behind his back.
“Right.” Suguru pinches the bridge of his own nose, dragging in a deep breath as if it might erase the weight of the moment. “Jokes.”
“Don’t give me so much credit.” Satoru quips, his hands slipping into his pockets as he lazily falls into step beside his friend. His voice is light, but there’s a flicker of unease in his usually playful demeanor. “Maybe I was sabotaging you.”
Suguru’s glare sharpens instantly, his eyes narrowing into slits. It’s a look that would send most people scrambling to find cover or a means of self-defense, but Gojo just provides a sultry smirk in response, as though daring him to take the bait. “Don’t.” He pushes the singular word out sternly with a look that could kill.
Satoru lifts his hands, all mock innocence, though the grin only widens and display the usual swagger. “Relax! I wasn’t!” He assures the man, his voice carrying that unmistakable lilt of amusement. “I know how to share.” The statement is punctuated with a giggle, lighthearted and teasing, as thought he situation isn’t as dire as it feels to anyone else. But then, after a beat, his tone shifts, softens—turns almost sheepish. “Though I really did think she’d laugh it off. Or flirt back. How foolish of me.”
Suguru’s response is instant, his jaw tightening as his voice cuts through the air like a blade. “Maybe you should stop focusing on your flirting and jokes and—”
“And what?” Gojo interrupts, his grin morphing into a sly smirk as he raises an eyebrow. “Act like you, like fucking Batman? Scare her?” His words are laced with humor, but there’s a sharp edge to the, a subtle way to stab Suguru in his side and twist the truth into his flesh.
He feels it bleed him. “Scare?” He repeats, his voice quieter now, more measured, but no less intense. His dark eyes narrow, piercing through Satoru’s easily put on facade. “You think I scare her?” The question comes out steadier than he feels, but inside, something unravels—an unwelcome wave of insecurity washing over him, cold an unrelenting. He’s always known to take the blonde’s words with a grain of fucking salt but he can’t help the wave of insecurity that washes over him.
They follow you, just out of earshot, as you begin striding down the sandy path rather than the grassy one and you perfectly know your way to your small home but you head towards the beach instead, leaving them to wonder if you still want to be followed. Instead, they decide to not leave you alone but to add a bit more distance between you and themselves. “You’re intense.” Satoru provides the one-liner, meant to be honest but go easy on Suguru. He tosses the line out casually on a lighter voice.
Suguru’s response is almost too quiet, his voice carrying a hint of emptiness, as if the comment had settled deeper than he was willing to let on. “I’m intense.” His voice sounds empty, as if the opinion has really disillusions him. It’s not a statement of pride, but more like a confession, and the disillusionment is clear. His words sound hollow, like he’s beginning to believe it himself.
Satoru sighs, rubbing the back of his neck as he tries to shift the conversation. “Look, I get it, okay? Beating ourselves up about it isn’t going to help anyone though. We should—”
“—stop making things worse,” Suguru interjects, finishing the thought, his tone sharp but tinged with resignation. He knows where this is going, and as much as he doesn’t want to admit it, he knows Satoru’s right.
Satoru raises an eyebrow at the interruption, not missing a beat. “That’s rich coming from you, Mr. ‘Let me stare into her soul like a lovesick puppy while she’s clearly about to break down sobbing.’” He’s seen how Suguru’s been with you, how those moments of vulnerability have gotten the best of him.
Suguru’s head snaps toward him, his expression darkening instantly. “And what were you doing?” he retorts. “Cracking jokes like an idiot and not taking anything seriously.”
“Better than fumbling the way you did!” He reaches out to punch Suguru’s shoulder with a playful force, the laughter resulting in a bit of spray to come from Satoru’s tongue for his partner to begrudgingly wipe away on his sleeve. He shoves Gojo away from him and checks that you don’t hear their discourse behind you.
Aimlessly, you walk towards the ocean, where the soaked through sand and the salt of the sea meet each other. You’re lost in your thoughts, unaware of the growing tension between the two men behind you. Gently, you kick off your sandals and bury your toes in the sand, the cool touch of the sand welcoming you. Your bodyguards eye you and respect the distance. They linger not too terribly far behind you, like two shadows following you against the horizon.
“Fumbling?” He repeats incredulously. “I was trying to comfort her!” He doesn’t know how many times he’s got to say it.
“You call that comforting?” Satoru retorts with a voice thick with sarcasm as he continues to laugh at his partner’s every response. “I’ve been more comforted while being waterboarded!” He almost collapses in a fit of laughter. The absurdity of the situation doesn’t help, and Suguru’s temper flares slightly, even though he knows it’s all in jest.
Instead, he shoves his hands into his own pockets. “You’re unbelievable.” he mutters, barely containing his irritation.
“Thank you, baby,” Satoru replies, calming down and matching his pace, putting back on his usual humorous and flirtatious show. The silence that follow is taut, but not hostile, only filled with the sounds of their footsteps sifting in the sand and the waves rushing just a few inches from them. “But you know we have to say something.”
Suguru knows, though. He does but he doesn’t know what to say to fix this and he doesn’t know how to say it out of a newfound fear that he may be coming across as scary to you. “We will.” He speaks softly. “After her tour. I don’t want her to worry about too much with all of that going on. She’s trying to focus on her writing, her music.” Even now, his base instincts compel him to protect you, guard you. He stares ahead, watching you carefully.
Satoru glances at him, surprised by the weight in his voice, the depth. Their gazes meet, and for once, there’s no smirk or playful quip waiting in the wings. Just honesty between the two men. “I care about her too, you know,” Satoru speaks plainly and with his own brand of conviction, as if he’s got to prove himself just as well. “It’s not just you. And it’ll never just be you.”
Geto doesn’t respond right away. He knows his partner well enough to understand how rare it is to strip away the bravado that Satoru usually carries. He means what he’s saying. Suguru knows where this is coming from, recalling Gojo’s accusation that he thinks that only one of them deserves you. That couldn’t be further from his true feelings, mostly because he doesn’t want to itemize you like that. “I never said that I wanted it to just be me,” Suguru says, his voice steady but laced with a vulnerability he doesn’t often show. He’s not trying to claim you for himself, not in the way Satoru might think. “I know how to share too.” His admission is simple but meaningful, an olive branch of sorts between them. He doesn’t want to compete for you, but he does want you to know that they both care.
“Good,” Satoru mutters, his tone quieter now, almost uncharacteristically subdued. “Because I’m not about to let you mess this up for us.”
Suguru’s lips twitch, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Funny, I was about to say the same thing to you.”
They walk the rest of the way in silence, the weight of their shared determination pressing down on both of them. The humor is still there, woven into the fabric of their dynamic, but it’s tempered by something deeper—a mutual understanding that the stakes are far too high to let their egos get in the way.
You stand there, biting your lip, your hesitation thick in the air between you all and they can tell you’ve been thinking deeply about what happened between the three of you. Your bodyguards, tall and ever-present, stand silently at your side, giving you the opportunity to speak first, to break the silence if you can. And, if Satoru knows you at all, he can tell that you’re torn between confusion and curiosity. He can sense the inner conflict within you. Deep down, he knows that you can’t honestly tell him that you’ve never thought about what it might be like to take things further with both of them. I’s impossible to convince him that the idea has never crossed your mind, not even once. You’ve thought about it, both of them, at least once. Whether that’s limited to a sexual fantasy or not, he doesn’t care one way or the other.
You idle for a moment, cool ocean water dripping from your shivering ankles lapping beneath the soles of your feet. You think that you should be disgusted, repulsed by the idea of both of them wanting you, but you can’t ignore the flutter in your chest, the heat that pooled low in your belly at their confession. How could there be anything else on your mind? Their confession—that they both care about you, in ways that go beyond the professional—is filling your head with so many thoughts of different tones. You know that your mind should be on work, that all of your energy should be put into focusing on your music with the first tour coming up so quickly but now… it’s not.
Eventually, you summon the courage to meet their eyes, to look at the two men who have been hired to protect you by your father. The three of you… you can’t do things like this. It’s wrong, isn’t it? That’s what you tell yourself when it’s all that you think of all day in and out. Two handsome, deeply affectionate, and caring men protect you and dote on you every single day. How could you not develop feelings for them? How could it not cross your mind? Of course, you have feelings! But you keep them at bay because you care too much for your relationship with them to end badly and risk losing them. The connection between the three of you, no matter how deep, can’t cross that line. You thought… You though all three of you understood that without having to say it out loud.
The final shred of Satoru’s self-control falls away, not that he had much to begin with, and he reaches out to cup your cheek. He brushes his thumb against the dewy soft skin there. His touch is gentle as if he’s afraid of breaking something fragile. “Don’t feel like you can’t tell us how you feel, baby,” he murmurs, his voice low, every word laced with sincerity. “We’re here for you.”
Suguru nods, his violet eyes locked onto yours. They glisten with unshed tears, and his voice is steady but thick with emotion when he adds, “Any way you want us.”
On your other side, Satoru solidifies the pledge. He leans in a little closer, his own gaze never leaving yours. His words punctuate the sincerity in his partner’s. “Any way you need us,” he says firmly, voice a heavy contrast to the usually playful tones it so often carries.
You swallow hard, your bottom lip trembling as you look up at them. Satoru thumbs at it, lightly pulling it and letting it bounce back into place. “Both of you?” You question quietly, your words almost a whisper. The two of them sigh and give you the same nod. It’s as if saying these words aloud is all that it takes to make this more real, more tangible.
Suguru takes a step closer, his hand resting on your hip. The cool mist of the evening air clings to your skin, but their proximity brings a warmth that cuts through the chill. You shiver in their arms. The three of you remain delicately suspended in space where noting exists but the new connection slowly forming. “We’d never do anything to jeopardize what we have with you, darling,” Suguru speaks, pressing his lips against the top of your head. “We’d never push you into anything either.”
Your lips quiver but you can’t bring yourself to speak again. You just let out a breathless giggle, latching yourself onto them. And they let you hold them closely, embracing each other in equal measure. They smile into your skin, their arms tightening around you as they pull you into them. The warmth of your body against theirs in spite of the cold, the sweet scent of your hair in spite of the salted breeze, is intoxicating. Satoru nuzzles into your neck and hums, pressing a soft kiss to your pulse. You feel something shift from uncertainty to security and that shift comes with much-desired comfort.
Finally, Suguru pull away reluctantly, his hands sliding down to rest on your waist. “Let’s get you home.” He says, his voice softer now, no longer hiding the true depth of his care. “Can’t have you coming down with the sniffles.”
Satoru leans back slightly, a playful glint returning to his eyes, though it’s tempered. “Plus, we still have that little ‘fitting session’ you teased us with,” he adds, his voice laced with a hint of teasing. He gives you a wink, the knowing smirk spreading across his face once more. “You keep your promises too, right, sweet girl?”
You usually do keep your promises but that day wasn’t one of those cases. Suguru was serious about them giving you space to figure out your true feelings and focus on your music. Admittedly, this ruling left the three of you a bit pent up, but he wasn’t going to push you. And he wasn’t going to let Satoru flirt his way into your bed either.
You sigh as your backstage crew adjusts your mic and makeup artists powder on finishing touches of your makeup. You’ve just finished warming up and can hear the crowd of your fan’s cheering, calling for you to come out, even chanting some of your own lyrics to coax you out on stage and start the final concert of your tour. “A fleeting shadow on the ocean’s skin…” Their voices echo faintly, overlapping like waves. You shouldn’t get nervous before every single show anymore but you’re not sure how you’d get by without your bodyguards for support.
They exchange a look as you turn to them, your nerves evident in the slight tremble in your hands and the uncertainty in your eyes. They’ve seen you like this before, the night of every performance of yours, and it never gets any easier to watch. Satoru steps forward, his hand coming up to stop in front of your face before you can open your mouth to worry aloud. “None of that.” He hushes you. “Get real. You can’t freak out on us every single night.”
Suguru rolls his eyes at Gojo’s approach. “You’ve got this, darling.” He comes up next to you and gives you a reassuring squeeze, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles. “You know we’re right out here, watching over you, making sure you’re safe.” The blonde nods in agreement, his eyes always scanning the immediate area for any sign of a threat. “He has a way with words but Satoru’s right. You’re so talented. They’re all out there screaming for you, to hear your voice. You’ve got no reason to be afraid.” He reaches out to straighten your microphone, his fingers brushing against your skin. “And once the shows over… we’ll be screaming for you too.” He grins, purple eyes glinting with mischief, referencing the intentions the three of you had for the night of your final show.
The two of them share a look, a silent communication passing between them. A promise of events to come, desires to be fulfilled. But, for now, their focus is solely on you and ensuring your safety, getting you through your final show. Satoru leans in close, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “Go out there and knock ‘em dead, baby girl.” His voice comes out a low moan that vibrates on the flush of your ear.
The stage manager signals that it’s time, and you take a deep breath, your nerves still buzzing but manageable now. You take a deep breath and breathe in the roar of the crowd as it crescendos when you step onto the stage, wearing a bright smile as you sheer gown blows behind you in the night air. You shut your eyes for a moment, the opening notes of the song swelling around you before you’re even sure if you’re ready. You remember the two men backstage though, and begin. “The waves hum, clouds hang low,” Your voice carries through the venue as the audience quiets down. “This fleeting world will meet its end.” And you’re soft, almost ethereal, at first as you weave through the melodies and layered words that you wrote. It threads together like silver and your audience sways, their uncoordinated voices joining yours and echoing.
“But when the morning paints the sky,” When you shut your eyes again, you see the small town that you’ve fallen in love with and use to hideaway for most of the year. “I’ll find you there, where seagulls cry.” And the place where you fell for both of the men in your life, the place where you learned to appreciate what they both see in you. The lighting shifts, casting a golden glow over the stage as the song builds.
When you feel your bodyguard’s eyes on your form, microphone just below your chin as you sing a song that you wrote about the both of them, about the care for you, lavish you. Your movements become weightless, your voice rising with each verse. Through the haze of lights and siren sounds, you spot the both of them on the other side of the curtain. “A fleeting shadow, whispering dreams,” They’re watching you, their gazes steady, expressions unreadable but filled with pride. “Lost in the echoes of what could have been…” When the final notes fade out, a ringing in your ears overtakes every single one of your senses. You don’t hear the way they fill the venue with an eruption of cheers and applause thundering through the space. You breathe out a shaky laugh, chest rising and falling to take it all in.
You make it through the entirety of your set and, when you step offstage, Satoru and Suguru are waiting for you. Suguru presses a hand to the small of your back, his touch warm and more than enough to ground you. Satoru leans close, his grin softer now but no less mischievous. “Told you, he says, his voice more than enough to eradicate the ringing in your ears and bring you back into reality. “You killed it.” You smile at the men, no longer overcome with nerves. They’re here for you, just as they said they would be. Everything about them is always… just as promised.
Your body hums with adrenaline, your heart pounding in time with the cheers. You stumble fully into your bodyguards’ arms. You nod at their words, showing that you believe everything they repeat to yourself. Warmth blooms in your chest. On impulse, you ignore the lingering stagehands surrounding your trio, and lean in to kiss each of their cheeks. “I… I can’t wait anymore.” You wouldn’t have gotten through all of this without them. You know that now. “Let’s hurry back to the hotel.” Your voice comes out a whisper, but they understand the implications in each of your words.
Their expressions shift immediately—soft smiles turning into something flushed and heated. Something knowing. Suguru nods. “Let’s go,” He urges, voice as protective as always. As usual, they escort you by your waist, their presence overwhelming on either side of you. The routine is second nature: you step out slightly ahead, letting them flank you from behind while the cameras capture your exit. It’s all for show—a calculated moment for your fans and the press.
As expected, the moment the door swings open, the familiar flash of cameras floods your vision, blinding and disorienting. The cool night air prickles your skin as you step out, but before you can take another step, a shout cuts through the chaos of adoring fans. The figure comes from the periphery, a blur of movement breaking through the crowd and determined to reach you. A man lunges toward you faster than you could ever react, the glint of a knife catching in the flash of the cameras as he raises it high.
Time fractures. Suguru’s eyes widen, his breath catching in his throat as he takes in the scene. His body reacts before his mind fully processes the danger, head pounding with a single thought: No. No. No. No. Not like this. Not now. Not ever. Time slows to a crawl as Suguru’s eyes widen in horror, his heart positively stopping in his chest.
Satoru somehow moves quicker than Suguru. His voice is sharp, a commanding bark somewhere behind you, but your focus is consumed by the flash of steel descending in your direction, the world around you tilting as your body moves on it’s own to get out of the way. Your vision blurs in slow motion.
Gojo is shouting, cursing, shoving you behind him because he has no doubt that Suguru is there to catch you before the pavement does. His hand closes around the wrist of the attacker. Twisting, yanking, the sickening crack of bone and cartilage giving way. The knife clatters to the ground, the man’s screams drowned out by the pandemonium of the crowed, the flashing of cameras, the chaos of a thousand voices raised in shock and fear. The adrenaline causes the ringing in your ears to return.
Suguru is there to catch you and scoop you into his arms, cradling you against his chest as if you were made of glass, fragile, precious, irreplaceable. “Princess..” He releases a broken whisper, a prayer, plea for forgiveness. While he knows that his only crime could be not having the ability to see into the future and stop the attacker before he’d shown himself. He’d take a punishment for that. He would, really. You’re shaking, trembling, your face instinctively burying in his neck. You whisper his name into his skin. He hushes you and holds you tightly as if you’re his own baby. “I’m here. I’m here. I’m right here. Right fucking here, not going anywhere. Promise.”
Ahead of the two of you, Satoru is still barking orders at the remaining security team that the venue provided, his voice a stern whip-crack that doesn’t sound anything like him. “I need a car for her here now! And someone call the goddamn police already! Get this fucker out of here!” Suguru barely hears the commands coming out of the main clown between the three of you. His world is narrowed to the feel of you in his arms, the scent of your hair, the warmth of your horrified breaths on his cheeks. “I’ve got you,” he mumbles with lips pressed against your forehead, a litany.
Your attacker begins struggling against Satoru’s choke hold to scream obscenities and hurl threats in your direction. He shouts about how he’d cut you open and let you bleed out on the sidewalk, how much he hates you because your sound changed and ruined his life. When he screams about how he’ll be out soon and he’ll just keep trying to kill you until he succeeds, you can’t help but further collapse into Suguru’s chest, stuttering nonsense. The mirage of the press’s camera flashes only make it worse and it’s obvious that you’re deep in shock. You shiver against his chest and let silent tears slip down your cheeks. The world silences, despite being in the the center of such chaos. You can see Suguru’s lips moving and you’re sure he’s trying to get any response out of you, let him know that you’re okay but you’re in shock. Soft whimpers make their way past your lips.
Both of your bodyguard’s hearts hammer in their chest, their blood runs cold, at the attacker’s words and twisted promises of violence and violation. If they had their way, the bastard would already be dead. He’d be the one bleeding out on the pavement for his photo to be taken and spread all around the world. But they can’t. They can’t do anything about it because he needs to face justice for his crimes against you. They hold themselves back.
Your body goes rigid in Suguru’s embrace and soon your breath starts coming in short, sharp, overwhelmed gasps. He feels so helpless for you and all he can do is tighten his hold on you, his lips finding your temple. “Don’t listen to him,” He whispers fiercely, voice a rumble only mean for your ears. “He can’t touch you. Not as long as I’m breathing. He’ll never see you again. You’ll never see him again.”
Satoru grunts as the local police finally make their way on the scene. They wrestle with the creep for a few minutes before he’s transferred into their custody, your other bodyguard wastes no time rushing to your side. He leans forward, his hand cupping your cheek. “He’s right, sweet girl. He’s gone. Forget he even exists.” He presses his own kiss to your forehead, thumb brushing away the tears that track your face. He rocks your gently, tentatively touching his lips to your skin. He laces his fingers with yours, squeezing gently as he tries to pull you out of it. “Whenever you’re ready, baby, we’ll get you home.”
All you can do is shudder in their arms, the protective and unconditional arms of your bodyguards. The three of you are covered in camera flashes and they never cease or slow down. You dread tomorrow’s headlines. “Please,” You sob, a broken sigh that doesn’t sound anything like the calm and confident sweet girl they know. Suguru’s heart breaks at the sound. He wants noting more than to silence the flashes, shield you from the prying eyes and insensitive probing questions. He wants to do his job of protecting you.
The wide car comes to a stop just in front of you and the driver’s voice crackles over the intercom of one of the guy’s mics. “We’re here, sirs. Should I escort the Miss inside?” The both of them watch the as the crowd of onlookers surrounding you thickens. They give each other a look, silently communicating what should happen next.
Satoru shakes his head, his eyes raking over you. “No, we’ll care of her ourselves.” He speaks definitively. Shaking, you allow your guards to lead you into the protected vehicle, using one of their coats to shield your face from the invasive lenses. You ignore the questions from the media begging for some kind of comment from you about what just happened. Gojo keeps you tucked close against his side as they make their way from the car to the hotel lobby. His arm remains wrapped securely around your waist as both of their eyes scan your surroundings with a predator’s intensity, searching for a single hint of threat or sign of danger.
Your grip on their arms tighten as they pass through the revolving doors, the atmosphere in the luxury hotel significantly different and quieter from the one they just left. Suguru knows the press won’t let this go, knows they’ll be hounding you for statements, for exclusives, that they’ll tear apart every little detail of the scene that just unfolded and shame you for being the victim of it.
He groans at the thought and feels his jaw clench as he grinds his teeth, a slight growl rumbling in his throat. “Easy,” Satoru, who has been surprisingly in charge of this entire ordeal leans in close, lips brushing against Satoru’s ear. “Keep it in check until we get her upstairs.”
All the brunette can really do is nod and take a deep breath to steady himself. He knows his counterpart is right, knows that it’s their job to handle things like this, not just follow you around like lovesick puppies while you shop and write in your journal. They make their way to the elevators, neither of their hands ever leaving your body. Satoru hits the button for their floor and Suguru keeps his eyes glued to the large doors as if daring anyone to try and enter the lift along with them.
The ride up is quiet, the only sound the gentle hum of the elevator and the soft slap of your coat against your legs. Suguru wants to say something, to offer comfort or reassurance… but he doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know how to make this better. The doors slide open and the trio of you step out into the hallway, they both lead you to the suite your father usually keeps reserved for when he’s in this city. He swipes the key card, the lock disengaging with a soft click.
The two of them follow you inside, their eyes taking in the surrounding by habit. The plush couches, the gleaming marble, the floor-to-ceiling windows that offers a stunning view of the city below.
The last place you want to be is at your father’s penthouse where he stays with his escorts when he’s in this particular city but your own cottage is countries away since you’ve been touring for a few months so this is as close as you’ll get to real privacy. The opulent suite is a far cry from the cozy place you call home, and the men know the sterile luxury won’t bring you much comfort in your current state.
Suguru turns to Satoru, his voice low and urgent. “We need to… calm her down somehow. A hot bath might help, give her a chance to decompress.”
He receives a nod in agreement, a jaw clenched tight. “I’ll run the water, you find some clothes for her to change into after.” The brunette disappears into the bedroom to search for something soft and comfortable for you to wear.
Satoru does the job of guiding you to the en suite bathroom, his hand resting gently on the small of your back. He adjusts the temperature of the water, testing it with his own pale skin, until it’s just shy of scalding. He adds a generous amount of cream bath salts, the soothing scent filling the air. Turning to you, he begins to help you undress with careful hands. “Let’s get you in there, baby girl,” He whispers softly, his fingers trembling slightly as he works.
You breathe in shallowly as you allow your bodyguard to pull your clothes off. You’ve wanted this level of intimacy with them for months, ever since the day you all confessed your love and attraction for each other, and you were saving it for tonight—the last night of your tour—but not like this. The man’s heart clenches as he peels your clothing off, his hands gentle but efficient. He knows you’ve wanted this, all of them together, for so long but under entirely different circumstances. Not with you so frightened, so shaken.
He helps you step into the bath, the steaming water lapping at your skin. He adds more salts to get the soothing scent to fill the air just as Suguru returns with a soft, oversize t-shirt and pair of cotton shorts. “For after,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. He crouches to kneel at the bathtub and his hand finds yours under the water. He laces your fingers together despite your body being limp in the soft lather. He looks you in your to find their hollow and devoid of their usual emotion. “Princess? Can you hear me?”
You don’t answer, as expected. Behind him Satoru leans against the door frame with his arms crossed over his chest. “Come on,” He deadpans. “We’ll be close by if you need us. Just call out.” Suguru doesn’t move at first. He looks at you through hooded lids, trying once more to get you to give him a few words—anything to get a sign that you’re still in there. When it doesn’t come, Suguru presses a kiss to your forehead before reluctantly pulling away. He listens to Gojo and stands up to make his way out as well.
“Wait,” You call out to both of them. It’s the first time you’ve spoken since the attack. Your voice is desperate and small. You’re already a soft-spoken girl but you sound… broken now, as if that evil creep really got to you. It tears both of their hearts apart. “Can you stay?” You ask, tone bleak.
The two of them freeze at the sound of your voice, their eyes locking onto yours. You look so small like this, so fragile in the steaming tub with your hair clinging to your neck and shoulders. But it’s your words that stop their hearts, that make their chests constrict with a desperate and aching need to protect you.
Geto is back at your side in an instant, sinking back to his knees beside the tub. His hand finds yours again, his thumb stroking the delicate skin of your wrist. “Of course, baby,” He calls you by the term of endearment like he needs you more than anything in the world. “Whatever you need,” He speaks to you with all of his love. “We’re yours.”
“All yours.” Gojo speaks from your other side in an instant, sinking to his own knees. His fingers trailing to the foaming water in a gentle caress. He reaches for a fluffy towel hanging on the rack, soaking it in the bathwater before beginning to wash your back in slow, soothing circles. Suguru takes the damp cloth from him, his touch just as tender as he runs it along to ease the tension from your shoulders.
They work in tandem, their movements perfectly synchronized as they care for you. Washing you, massaging you head, soothing you as they clean your pretty body. Suguru leans in to kiss the corner of your mouth when he can’t hold himself back from it, his lips lingering mere centimeters from yours. “Darling, we love you. So much that it hurts sometimes. We just want to keep you safe.”
“Right, baby. We’ll always take care of you.” He sidles up and draws closer to you, hands never leaving your body. You sigh as you sink back into the water, your eyes drifting closed as their hands continue to work the soap into your skin. The vanilla scent surrounds the three of you, soothing and calming. For now, the chaos you’ve just been subjected to can’t touch you. This is the only room, this moment, and the three of you, bound together by a love that doesn’t have a limit.
You sigh heavily with relief. This isn’t the first time your life has been threatened and you’re sure that it won’t be the last but that doesn’t make it any less terrifying. It doesn’t make you any less petrified of the threats. “Will you guys get in? I’m not ready to get out… but i don’t want to be alone.” Your voice comes out strained and it embarrasses you. “I probably sound so weak.” You trial off.
Satoru and Suguru share a meaningful look over the rim of the bathtub, their eyes conveying the depth of their devotion. All that the two of them really know is that there isn’t anything they wouldn’t do for you, to ensure you never know a moment of fear again for the rest of your life.
Geto is the first to strip off his shirt, tossing it aside without a second thought. He kicks off his shoes and shimmies out of his pants, his lean, muscular frame revealed inch by tantalizing inch. Gojo follows suit, his hands moving to the buttons of his own shirt with deliberate slowness. He holds your gaze as he reveals himself, eyes dark and heated. The men slide into the tub on either side of you, the water sloshing gently as they settle in close. Their both free of the confines of their clothing, as are you, but you can hardly bring yourself to appreciate it.
Suguru pulls you into his arms, your back pressed against his chest, while Satoru pulls you forward a bit to lean your head against his own chest, his hands resting on your thighs. “You could never sound weak to us, baby girl,” Satoru mumbles, his lips brushing against the crown of your head. “You’re the strongest person we know.”
The brunette nods in agreement, his fingertips tracing idle patterns on your skin. “He’s right. You’re the strongest.” Suguru speaks his devotion plainly as he caresses your soaking wet body. If you were a cult leader, they’d be your most loyal followers.
Satoru leans in and kisses your cheek, doing anything he can to prove it all to you. His hand slides beneath the water to rest on your belly. “We’re here, princess. We’re both right here. However you need us to be.” He nuzzles his face against yours, his eye lashes brushing against your skin. “We’re yours,” And Gojo’s tone is so worshiping, so genuinely idolizing of you. “Baby… you own us.” Blue eyes penetrate you, imploring you to believe what he’s trying so hard to convey.
You look at Gojo with all of your love as well. He leans into finally capture your lips in a tender kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth in a slow, sensual exploration. You kiss him back in earnest and sigh into his mouth, lifting your dripping hands to cup the sides of his face and deepen it. When he groans into the kiss, his hands sliding up to your thighs to grip your hips. He pulls you closer, until you’re straddling his lap, Suguru follows you, his hard chest pressed tightly against you as if he’s unable to lose the contact with you.
Satoru moans when he feels your breasts pressing against his chest. He bites into your bottom lip causing you to yelp a bit, affording him the possibility to fuck your mouth with his tongue. He tangles it with your, the kiss deepening, growing more heated by the second.
His partner doesn’t mind watching the two of you with hooded eyes, lust filling every cell in his body. His cock hardens beneath the water. He moves closer, his hands sliding over your ribs to cup your breasts. He kneads the soft flesh, his thumbs brushing over the your nipples until they harden to soreness under his touch. “Beautiful,” he breathes, his voice rough with desire. He pushes his face into your neck to speak his words into your skin, his lips vibrating against you. “You’re perfect, princess.”
Satoru breaks the kiss, his lips trailing down your jaw instead. His teeth graze down your neck across the delicate skin. He sucks a mark into the hollow of her throat while his fingers dig into the fat of your ass. “Fuck, I need you,” he pants, beginning to rock his hips against you. He gasps when his cock bumps against your bare cunt, easily able to differentiate the feeling of your slick versus the warm bath water. “Need to feel you from inside so bad.”
You moan as the men sandwich you between them and suck love bites into your pure skin. Suguru hums, his hand sliding down your stomach to tease at the edge of your pussy, feeling warmth emanate from your core. “Let us make you feel good, baby. Let us properly worship you - this gorgeous body.” You whine at the feeling of the hot water, of Suguru’s hot skin against your back, of Gojo’s hardness pressing against you and catching against your clit every so often.
The both of them take a deep breath, their eyes dark with desires but their touches remaining gentle. They know that you need tenderness right now, need to be cherished, adored, and reassured. They both know that’s exactly what they’re meant to be for you without having to say it. “Let us show you how much we love you.” Suguru whispers. His hands slide up your sides, each one committing every bit of your body to his memory. His touch is feather-light but not teasing. “We’ll go slow, baby girl. You set the pace.” His words sound like a promise, with lips brushing against you with fever and passion.
You know that your two bodyguards would never push you too far, never rush you, or pressure you. The man in front of you presses a trail of soft kisses along your collarbone, his hands smoothing over your back. Your fingers come up to run through his white locks, getting each strand you make contact with wet and soapy. Satoru doesn’t stop kissing your neck and he puts his hands on your hips to rock you against him at a better pace as Suguru kneads your tits. “Yes, baby?” Gojo asks as he brings his face up to look you in the eye. Ocean eyes plead you for more access to your body, to touch the deepest parts of your body. His expression is desperate, cheeks burning red, breath coming out in rushed bursts as he fucks himself against your clit.
You moan as they grope at your body, their touches light. They promise to worship you in any way you tell them to with whatever you want to take from them. With their hands, mouths, bodies, anything. They vow with their eyes locked on you. You cup Satoru’s face in your hands and moan when Suguru pinches at your nipples with his thumb and forefinger. His hands roam your body, mapping every curve, every dip, inch of your silken skin.
“Yes, yes,” You gasp, finally answering them, finally consenting, finally giving yourself to your bodyguards. You don’t even have to wrap your head around it, the way you thought you might have to. Two. Bodyguards with an S, as in two different bodyguards. Plural. Both Satoru Gojo and Suguru Geto want you, want your body at the exact same time. Two men want you so badly that they’re willing to share you like their toy. You shiver against Suguru’s chest at the realization. “Yes, both of you. Please,” You urge them on. You beg for them to fuck you. Geto’s touch squeezes at your breasts, his touch alternates between soft and firm.
You lose your train of thought at the feeling of their tenderness. Your hand dips below the line of water and you instinctively wrap your small palm around Suguru’s hardness. It throbs in your palm and you moan for it. Suguru moans at the feeling. Satoru moans at both of your moans. Nothing but the sounds of your shared pleasure and the water sloshing around the tub and falling in small puddles on the glossy bathroom floor.
Suguru’s hips buck at the feeling of your small hand gripping his thickness. Slowly, in your own time, you pump him and every time you draw your pathetic fist back, you feel the bundle of curled hairs nestled at the base of his length. “You’re killing me, baby doll,” he pants in a voice strained with need.
In front of you, Satoru chuckles, his lips trailing down your reverberating throat. “Feels good, doesn’t she? Could cum just like this, fucking against you, baby.” He nips at your collarbone, soothing the sting of his bite with a swipe of his tongue. Another moan leaves your mouth at his words.
The man behind you reaches out his hand to cover yours, guiding you to give a more dutiful stroke from his base to his swelling tip. His other hand continues to squeeze your left breast. His fingers “Are we what you want, princess?” He crushes his lips against your lips roughly, the pleasure starting to blur his edges. You nod and squeeze your eyes shut at the feeling of Gojo’s tip snagging deliciously against your engorged clit. The blonde’s hands grip your waist even harder.
The lust in the room smells of the creamy vanilla soap in the bath that you all share. “You’re all I want,” You whine. “Need you both so badly.” The two men’s eyes lock onto each others with a mix of desire and a hint of trepidation. They know what you’re asking for and giving it to you has all they’ve ever longed for. Satoru lets his thumb brush over your lower lip and slows his canting hips before shifting and seating his leaking tip at your pulsing entrance. He leans in to press a soft, chaste kiss to your lips as he inches himself in as slowly as possible.
“Love you so much,” he mumbles against your mouth, voice fierce and rough with emotion. His face hovers over yours and blushes red at the feeling your you immediately wrapping around him. His eyes shine with tears. “You’re everything to me.” When Gojo’s tears fall from his own eyelashes, they land on your dewy cheeks.
Satoru pushes his tip in and moans as he coats himself in your arousal, warmer than the bath water. “We’ve got you,” He assures you when he feels you shudder at his invasion. “Make sure you can handle every inch.” He pushes in further and further until his eyes roll back in bliss at the feeling of your tight heat engulfing him.
“Relax for him,” Suguru whispers in your ear. His eyebrows crease at the feeling of your hand squeezing his cock every few minutes. He can hardly concentrate of the task of tweaking your pert nipple between his thick digits due to your nearly liquid fingers. It isn’t long before Satoru is fucking you deep and slow, with steady rolls of his hips.
“Oh fuck,” You gasp as he pulses inside of you, the head of his cock sloppily kissing your cervix. “Satoru.” Your free hand grips the back of his neck for leverage. Geto’s hands squeeze and grope at you.
“That’s it, baby girl,” he encourages, his hips picking up speed. “Let me hear you, take it deep.” The water splashes all around the floor as he fucks into you faster with each passing second. Out of the corner of his eye Suguru watch as a bit of blood trickles from between your legs at the speed of his partner’s length tears you open. You cry from a new mixture of pleasure and pain. You let out a squeal at the feeling.
Suguru shoots his, already fucked out, friend a look. He expression is stern when he speaks to Satoru. “Slow down, big guy,” He looks at where the two of you are joined. “Gonna hurt her if you don’t give her enough time.” The blonde grits his teeth, struggling to control his raging lust at the feeling of your pink walls clenching around his throbbing length. With his partners warning, he forces himself to have more control. His hips lock, letting himself slowly massage your walls instead scrape along them as he fucks you hard. He holds back every primal urge that you elicit out of him.
“‘M sorry, baby girl,” he rasps, his voice rough with restraint. “Didn’t mean to fuck you too hard.” He kisses your lips once more, murmuring soothing words as he lets his hips rock into yours in shallow and careful thrusts, letting you feel every thick inch of him stretching you open. His hands grip you by the waist tightly.
He fights the urge to snap his hips and nail you roughly. “Fuck princess, so tight. How is it even possible? Gonna make me cum just like this. Without even trying.” he groans into your neck as his hands stroke reverently over your sensitive body, touching everywhere he can reach. Gojo doesn’t shy away from the dirty talk, meanwhile Suguru is behind you grunting in pleasure as you jerk him off beneath the bath water.
“Wanna hear that pretty voice begging for more. Wanna see how easy it is for you to go from singing like an angel to moaning over cock like a slut.” Suguru curses behind you, voice heady in your ear. His fingers wander down to find your sensitive clit, beginning to rub slow circles to help you adjust to take Gojo’s length at a harder pace again. When you moan and cry over the way he’s making you feel in tandem with your other bodyguard, he can’t stop himself from bucking even harder in your hand.
He sobs in your neck as he takes his turn to make some of your bath water spill as well. He rubs at the apex of your throbbing sheath as it clings to Gojo’s pistoning length. “Fu-fuck, you’re gripping him so tight. I can feel it,” Suguru groans loud, overcome with his own pleasure. “Milking his cock like you were made for it. Maybe you were made for it,” He teases. “Think you can take us both, sweetheart? Wanna feel both of us inside of you?”
You nod slowly. “Fuck… yes. Want you both so badly.” You beg as you ignore any lingering pans of discomfort and breathe deeply. You want to feel yourself gaping on both of your bodyguards. “I can take it.” You gasp breathlessly.”
Both of them growl in awe and they both think the same thing: that you’re so perfect. You are. You’re so fucking perfect for them. Their perfect princess. They couldn’t ask for anything else or anyone better. Satoru inches back a bit, shifting his weight on his knees as he makes room for his friend to ease himself into your already stretched cunt. “That’s our girl,” he purrs,the head of his cock nudging insistently at your puckered entrance. “Gonna fill this sweet pussy up completely. To the brim.” With a slow, steady push, he sinks into you and fits himself snug against his friend own throbbing length. Both cocks stretch you impossibly wide around their girths. You can’t help but whimper at the intrusion, your plush inner walls fluttering and clenching as you struggle to take them.
Suguru puts his hand underneath your jaw to turn your head to kiss you deeply. He attaches his lips to yours with permanence, swallowing your moans and forcing you to consume his as well. He revels int he knowledge that he’s making you feel so good. “That’s it, darling,” he pants against your lips, his hips starting to move in tandem with Gojo’s. “Gonna make you cum so hard,” he growls, voice rough with promise.
You separate your lips from Suguru’s but only because you can’t help but let out a myriad of sobs at the feeling of two men taking you at once. You look him in the eyes and, without thinking of it, you place a hand under his chin and do the same to Satoru. You concentrate enough to push the two men’s faces closer to each other’s. You moan through the pleasure their giving you and manage to speak through it. “Want you both to… love each other too.” You cry, finally forgetting the events of tonight’s attack. Your bodyguards manage to replace your pain with pleasure.
Suguru and Satoru stare at each other for a long moment, their hips continuing to move in tandem. Every time Suguru thrust into you from behind, Satoru pulls out to the tip. Every time he thrusts back into the hilt, so that your pelvis connect with a wet smack and the jump of the bathwater, Suguru pulls out—but only as much as he’s willing to. Their breaths come out in ragged pants. Then, as if moving in perfect unison, they lean in and capture each other’s lips in a kiss so passionate—yet, so hesitant—that it numbs the both of them. It’s hot and it’s filthy, filled with any pent-up feelings or desire the two men might have been holding back.
You can’t help but moan at the sight, your hips rocking between them, spurred on by the erotic display. You’ve never seen anything so aroused in your life and it burns your body with need. “Fuck,” Satoru moans when he draws his mouth back from Suguru’s, his lips swollen and spit-slick. He leans his head to rest on the other man’s forehead and ends up picking up his pace and bullying his length into you. The blonde groans as he runs his lips over Suguru’s, his hips snapping into you.
Geto, pressed tightly behind you in the confines of the tub, can’t help but let a few stray tears slip down his cheeks as he fucks you hard. The feeling of his partner’s dick rubbing lewdly against his as they fuck you is almost too much, the sensations colliding all around him.
“Love you, man,” Suguru whispers against Satoru’s lips. He looks him in the eyes, his hair clinging to all three of your bodies in soaked strands. “Love you both so much.” He turns his head to capture your lips once more, sloppy and wet and tasting of his partner’s mouth. You whimper into his mouth, your nails raking down Satoru’s corded biceps.
“Want you both to fill me so bad,” You moan, rocking frantically to meet their thrusts. Suguru knits his brows together and groans into your mouth. He nods at your request, feeling himself approaching his climax and feeling Gojo’s cock throb next to his. He tells you that he’s going to give you exactly what you want, exactly what you ask for. Suguru tells you that you never have to ask because he always knows what your heart desires and devotes himself to give it to you.
Your bodyguards fuck you full of promises. They promise to fuck you the way you deserve every day, fill you up, fill you to the brim with their see, and pump you full until it’s leaking out of you. Then they promise to fuck all that leaks out right back in. Satoru grunts above you and grits his teeth as he harshly grips one of your legs to throw it over his shoulder and afford himself a better angle. “Gonna breed this perfect pussy, been dreaming of it for so long.” He moans against you. With that, they start to move with more fever, their abs constricting with exertion as they slam into you in a brutal rhythm.
Soapy foam splashes out of the porcelain tub by the gallon as the three of you move your bodies against each other’s. The water sloshes around them, the heat and steam mingling with the scent of sex, creating a dizzying atmosphere. You cry out and throw your head back in ecstasy as your bodyguards pound into you, pleasure building and building until it’s almost too much to bear. “That’s it, baby,” Satoru pants, his hands gripping your legs until the muscles in your calves burn from the stress of him holding them back.
You can’t help but whine about how strong they both are, fucking you so hard until you’re babbling nonsense. “More… Mo-More… Just want to be yours.” You moan. “Please! Make me yours!” You squeeze your eyes shut and struggle to fill your lungs with air, gasping and wheezing as they overwhelm you with their bodies.
Behind you, Suguru’s eyes darken at your words, at your blatant admittance to wanting to belong to them. It drives him wild. All he’s ever wanted was to belong to you and now here he is, giving himself to you, filling you up in the most intimate way possible, and you’re practically thanking him for it all. A possessive growl rumbles it’s way up his throat. He turns you to look at him once again before pushing his tongue into your mouth and claiming your mouth as his once again. The two of you swallow each other’s moans of pleasure and Satoru buries his face in your neck and kiss and nibble at your skin.
Something dark and possessive claims Suguru. “Fuck yeah, princess.” he groans against your lips, his cock fucking into you even harder. “Gonna fill this tight little thing up, keep you tied to me forever.” To you, he sounds so breathless. Both of them talk to you as if they’re reciting their own desires, words that they’ve wanted to give you but held back for some reason.
No one cares that the tub feels like it’s lost half of it’s content as they fuck you with abandon, their cocks pistoning in and out of your squelching heat. The pleasure is so intense, so all-consuming, that none of you can even think straight. “Fuck, I’m so fucking close,” Satoru gasps, his movements losing sync and becoming more erratic. “Feels like I’m gonna fucking explode.” He curses, his words getting lost as he mumbles them into your neck.
Suguru nods, his own release barreling towards him like a freight train. “Fuck, me too.” His words are drunken and strung-out. He wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you back to relax all of your weight against his chest, his body only wanting to be closer to yours.
“Oh, fuck.” You choke on a moan as you cry out, your body tensing as your orgasm crashes over you like a viscous tidal wave. Your cunt clenches around them, milking their cocks, begging for them to release inside of you as if you need their cum to continue living. “Now.” You sob, your fingers digging into their shoulders. “Please…”
With a final, brutal thrust, they both let go, hard cocks pulsing as they blow their loads deep inside of you. You gasp, keening, your body shaking with the force of it as your bodyguards paint you from the inside out. The three of you collapse together, letting the force of your orgasms ruin you. The men’s chests heave as they try to catch their breath. Suguru regains his consciousness first. He presses soft kisses to your neck, your collarbone, anywhere he can reach with you collapsed against his chest.
He looks at you, commits your soaked and naked—and positively fucked out— body to his memory. His first time with you. He surveys you as well, searching for bruises to surface your skin, proof that he and Gojo were too rough with you. He waits a few minutes, just listening to the drip of the bath faucet and you and his partner’s soft breathing. “Love you, baby.” He murmurs, voice cracking a bit. He leans in and presses a kiss just above our eyebrow.
“Me too, sweets,” Satoru nods in agreement, his arms wrapped tightly around you as he slowly comes to. He peppers your face with tender kisses and hugs you closely to him. The incessant kisses don’t stop until you’re giggling from the way he tickles you. His hands caress your sides soothingly, knowing that you’re still sensitive from the intensity of the lovemaking. Suguru hums in satisfaction, nuzzling into your skin and planting his own kisses along your shoulder.
You peek your eyes open and reach your hands up to touch both the men’s faces as they kiss you intimately. They haven’t pulled out yet and you can feel both of their semis shifting against each other inside of you as they begin to unconsciously buck into you slowly. “We’ve got you now, darling. You’re ours. And we’re never going to let anything happen to you. Never gonna let you hurt. Never gonna let anyone lay a fuckin’ hand on you.” One of them whispers to you, neither of them stopping showing you their love. You moan at their soft movements.
“Never gonna let you go.” The other promises.
₊ . ݁˖ ‧ ୨୧ if you enjoyed my content, pls consider reblogging ୨୧ . ݁˖ ‧₊
may i request for !tattooartist geto :333 love your writingggg !!!
suguru geto x reader tattoo au!!
sfw, reader gets tattooed, totally a cute comfort scenario! geto and reader totally end up dating at some point after this >.<
geto suguru, an artist you've followed for a little while; a respected figure within tokyo's tattoo scene. after contacting him regarding a flash piece, he'd responded quickly to say his books were full, but as you're a friend of satoru's, he would fit you in after hours.
the date preoccupied you all week, a churning within the pits of your stomach when you envisioned the needle puncturing your skin. this isn't your first tattoo but it's your first with geto - someone you had only admired, never spoken to. satoru was usually the one to push ink under your skin, a friendship blossoming somewhere along the way when he'd invited you out for drinks.
"not, like a date - other people will be there..." the machine stops and he withdraws, and you laugh.
"yeah, alright."
some years later and you're still reaping the perks of befriending the gojo satoru; discounted tattoos, and now, you're able to get inked by someone you've admired for a long while.
you've been in the shop after hours once or twice (day sessions running a little over schedule), though never with anyone other than satoru.
it's odd seeing the shop from the outside while it's lingering into evening, streetlights brighter than the ebbing sun, the shop's florescent white peering through slats in the blinds. your fist rasps over the glass door, eyes lingering momentarily over the closed sign before geto's pushing keys under the handle and your lips are forced upward into a friendly smile.
"hi, it's me..." you're a little awkward, but geto's already been briefed on your personality through satoru; he knew what to expect. he returns the smile and steps to one side, allowing you to pass through the doorway before it's closed behind you, locked again.
there's the usual dividers in the shop, though at this time they're no longer housing artists and clients, instead darkened by the lack of headlamps or ring lights, the framed ink of each person's flash or prided art less vibrant by the missing luminosity. one station is still well lit, though.
"mind just filling this one out?" geto picks up a clipboard from a seat in the waiting area, a pen latched between the metal teeth. you take it from his hands, pulling the biro out and glossing over the sheet of paper - nothing you haven't done before. "i'll just set up over here, take a seat."
you do as he says, the small wooden bench by the door groaning as you allow yourself to perch upon it, legs bouncing a little from nerves. your handwriting scrawls over the white page, name, date of birth, allergies... a form you've filled out tens of times. there's the tearing of kitchen roll and you're pulled from your entrancement from the health declaration form and instead gazing at geto. the bed is out of your sight but you can see his height, occasionally dipping down as he leans, setting up clingfilm, pouring ink into the small pots. lastly, he removes his gloves and tugs at the loosened bun that'd been hanging at his neck, placing that little black elastic between his teeth and re-tying the bun much tighter than before.
"all done?" he asks as he glances over his shoulder, and you nod, taking your lips silently between your teeth. hopefully he hadn't noticed you staring. "i'll do the stencil now."
he comes to the front desk's computer, and you hear the printer stutter. he takes the clipboard from you, glancing over your answers.
"perfect. come on over."
the placement is over your left shoulder, a large spider lily beginning on the shoulder and ending over the collarbone. geto's gloves are on once more, black latex clinging to the skin, and he grabs a small bottle of gel, pouring it over his own fingertips to run over your shoulder. you sit in silence as he draws a small line in sharpie to figure out the central point, occasionally moving your arm. eventually, the stencil is on, and you're glancing in the mirror to check. it's beautiful, perfect.
laying down, you're forced to look at the ceiling tiles. you feel your throat tighten with anxiety, even with experience, getting a tattoo is nerve-wracking.
there's that familiar hum of the machine, and your eyes glance to your side as geto's dipping the needle in the pot of ink, allowing black to collect in the tip.
"ready?" he asks, flickering from his focus on the machine to you. you're a little lost in his eyes before you're responding, the deep brown hues mesmerising. they're mellow and friendly, relaxing to your anxious state. you nod.
the needle finally penetrates the skin, but despite your discomfort you remain still and loose, focusing on your breathing. in, out. the pain is only a stinging, a prickling that you've grown used to over the years. nothing that you can't handle.
"all okay?" geto asks, and you appreciate the check-in.
"yeah, good thanks."
he stretches your skin with his left hand, steadying his right to control the needle. his touch is delicate, gentle as if to ease your nerves, hard focused on the artwork over your skin with a stoic but pointed expression; a furrowed brow. there was something about being tattooed by geto that was so different to satoru, he was so much calmer, almost timid. by now satoru would have to stop from laughing too hard, or offering you candies for the hundredth time. geto was mellow, and it was nice. not to mention the face of concentration he held was cute, his pretty features a match to the art he drew.
"how did you meet satoru?" geto's voice hangs in the air a few minutes after you'd been sat in silence, though his gaze is still transfixed on his work. you smile at the memory, a puff of air from your lips.
"he was a regular at the cafe i used to work at, i started in winter and by spring he had buddied up with me. the first time i didn't wear a jumper to work he this god-awful tattoo i got on my 18th birthday, it was my star sign, but looked more like a blob. offered to cover it up at a discounted cost - or if i gave him free chocolates for the week."
geto smiles and you don't miss it, peering through your peripheral.
"what did you do?" he questions, and you raise your free arm.
"i got tattooed."
the hum stops, silence enveloping your ears as geto's attention is diverted to your inner arm, covered in ink he'd recognised to be his close friend's. he squinted as he tried to spot the cover up, and when looking closely he could see the older, blown out ink hiding under more controlled lines. "wow, it looks great. looks like you came back, too."
you nod, relaxing your arm. the buzzing doesn't start straight away, and you peer back to him.
"what about you?" you questioned - it felt like he'd been waiting for you to ask. he smiles now, shaking his head.
"there's no fun story, we just went to school together. one day i didn't know satoru, the next he was my brother." he raises the machine a little, left hand meeting your skin once again. the thrumming returned, and he glances over your expression before the needle meets your flesh.
"he was a pain in the ass, but he was the reason i went to school every day." a small piece of hair has escaped from the bun, hanging over his forehead. "i almost dropped out, but he kept me in check."
you picture satoru in your head, trying to place them together as highschool buddies. they're so different, you wouldn't believe they were so close if satoru hadn't already chewed your ear off over his best friend, and their history together. they've gone through a lot, though you're sure there's so much more you don't know.
"was he as high maintenance in school?" you ask, in attempts to continue the conversation. geto laughs, his teeth peeking through his lips.
"worse, somehow. he mellowed out in his twenties." the machine is pulled away and placed on the table beside him, his gloved hand wrapping over a sheet of kitchen roll, a small squeezy bottle in the other. the paper is placed over your shoulder, the liquid poured over alleviating the hot stinging of your skin.
"gonna start on the shading now." geto's eyes bore into your own, and there's a fluttering in your chest.
"are you still working there?" the needle is different now, as is his technique, the machine dragging in faster sweeping motions as he uses a stippling effect.
"at the cafe? no, after giving satoru his free chocolates i got fired." geto's expression widens. "it's fine, i work from home most of the time now, no more annoying customers." you inhale sharply as he works on a sensitive area, swallowing back any discontent and putting on a brave face.
"you're doing really well." he comments on your easily discernible unease, and those words of affirmation go straight to your head. geto flickers up at you, then back down to his work. there's silence for a little while more, the hum of the machine growing to hypnotize you as your vision hangs over the white ceiling.
"want anything? water, or some music?" his voice almost makes you jump as you realise how heavy your eyes had been. they're torn from the tiles above you to meet his face, and the white noise stops.
"music would be nice." you reply, and he peels back a glove, using the free skin to unlock his phone. a soft guitar tone meets the air, you vaguely recognise the melody and listen as the chugging continues. it's accompanied by buzzing only moments later.
"it's deftones." he explains, weight shifting on the pedal to gain the momentum the machine had previously held.
"how long have you been tattooing?" you try and further converse.
"coming onto ten years, got an apprenticeship at twenty. tried art school and dropped out - showed up to some shithole with my portfolio and worked for free until i got good enough. opened this place about six years ago with satoru."
"do you enjoy it?"
"of course, i get to do what i love as a job... that's everyone's dream, isn't it?" he pauses for a moment, wiping over the skin with a scrunched piece of kitchen roll before the needle is brought back.
"yeah." you're quieter as you picture your own dream job. admin certainly wasn't it, but it pays the bills and isn't too taxing.
"okay, i think we're done." suguru speaks, and repeats the same steps as before, washing the ink with solution before wiping it over. the coolness causes goosebumps to prickle over your skin, a balm applied with gloved hand as you know this will be the last time his fingers linger over this part of your shoulder. you're glad the session has finished, though as you make your way over to the mirror to peer over geto's art, you feel a little heartbroken this is coming to an end.
"oh, it's perfect." the words leave your mouth as you stand in awe, admiring the new ink embedded in your skin. it's breath taking, and exactly what you'd needed to fill in that area. you flicker up to meet his gaze through the reflection, eyes jolting downward when they meet his to instead linger over his arms - you hadn't paid all too much attention to the black lines covering his skin until now. his sweater sleeves are rolled back to his elbows, allowing you to peek at his forearms. it looks like satoru tattoos geto too, his style clear in his work.
"will i see you around?" geto asks, his demeanour shifting back into shyness. you allow yourself to meet his eye, butterflies coming to swarm within your belly as he awaits your answer.
"definitely." you smile - you're definitely going to be asking satoru more about geto once you're home, you can picture him sussing out your crush instantaneously, though.
pleeease let me know if you want more from this au cause i loved writing this omg!!
summary: after an unexpected night spent with your close friend, you find yourself pregnant, and unable to tell him so. will you be able to come to terms with this news, or will it destroy the delicate relationship you’d had left?
chapter warnings: mentions of declining mental health (suguru), general angst, secret pregnancy/child
masterlist
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A brown head of hair follows you from your car to the apartment. It's an uncomfortable journey knowing you're back in Tokyo again, so close to a life that feels so distant from you now.
There are many boxes to unpack, and when accompanied by a young child, the task feels insurmountable. To credit her, she does make an attempt to help, picking out a few toys from one of the containers with a smile, though just as quickly becomes distracted by the prospect of actually playing with them. This does make things easier for a short while; you're able to unpack some dinnerware into empty shelves, folding down just one cardboard box before she's back at your side.
"Mama!" She toddles to you with tears brimmed at her lash line, a doll in one hand, it's arm in the other. "Help, please."
You offer a soft smile, crouching and accepting the broken toy. It's easy to slot the arm back into place with some jostling (a manuvre you've learned from experience with this particular toy), and she's smiling once more, a shriek of excitement when the doll is returned to her in one piece.
Her expression lightens your mood, how beautifully she wears her emotions. There's so much innocence to children you hadn't expected before meeting her, so much joy. Her brown eyes are locked onto her barbie as she babbles, some nonsense, though some actual words do crop up - mummy, love, play.
You'd spent your entire pregnancy wondering what she would look like, whether she would take after you or her father, and to little surprise when she was handed to you, she was the image of Suguru. Even more so with age. Brown hair and eyes, and she has his nose too, with a calm temperament and warmth that you also accredit to him.
Being a single mother is hard, and seeing so much of him within her is bittersweet.
He's the man you fell in love with, but he's also the man you had to leave. There's so much you've wanted to share with him too; her first steps, words, her first birthday. Despite this, you know even if alone you've raised her well, and she is so loved. You've brought her this far without sorcery, but now a blue flame surrounds her. She's an early bloomer in the cursed sense, and just as you'd feared, inherits her father's technique meaning she'll likely be a special grade... something you'd wished so deeply to avoid.
There was change on the horizon, beginning only a few days ago when you'd been told to pack these very boxes, and push your daughter into a future you hadn't willed. You feel sick when recounting the memory.
"No." The sight of his face brings a burning to your throat, a sinking feeling as if a bowling ball had been forced into your chest, dropping to weigh within your stomach. Two years in hiding, to end involuntarily by no one other than Gojo Satoru. White hair draped over his forehead, blue eyes meeting your own. They look tired, aged somehow, though you can't seem to care when that weathering is accompanied by remorse, lips downturned.
"Invite me inside." His voice is quiet, low. It's late, and you're sure he's exhausted, yet he's at your door instead of his own.
There's a small spark of hope that perhaps he simply needs a place to stay, though this is snuffed out when you look back to his face. He knows.
"Satoru, why are you here?" Your voice trembles on the verge of tears, but he doesn't comfort you, instead remaining silent as you try to steady your breaths, eventually regulating them enough to step to one side. There's some hesitance as he walks past you.
You lead him to the livingroom, and as he trails behind his gaze wonders the painted walls of your entryway, pictures decorating an otherwise bland white. Most of which appear to star a small child from the ages of infancy to two; the same dark hair and brown eyes that he recognised within his close friend. There's dimples in each cheek when she smiles with her mother's lips.
"You had a girl." He means it to echo a question despite already knowing, though it sounds to be a statement. Your eyes lift from the floor to meet his, and you nod.
"Keiko." Usually her name on your lips brings you joy, but telling Satoru only makes your heart ache.
"Satoru, please tell me why you're here." You swallow thickly, afraid of the news you're about to be privvy to. He offers little reprieve with his reluctance, and you expect the worse.
"You have to come back, to Tokyo."
There's a numbness that begins at your throat, and slowly, like mould spore growing through a piece of fruit, you find yourself rotting before him. You're plagued with dread as you picture your daughter, only two years of age, opened up to a world you wished to shield her from.
"Why would I need to do that?" You act as if you're unaware, yet you understand clearly. She's gifted, even if you hadn't wanted to give her this strength.
"She has Cursed Spirit Manipulation." When those words leave his lips, you realise you truly have lost this case. This is it, this is what she will be forced to use. Your jaw tightens as you form a response, though you're unable to begin when Satoru elaborates.
"Two weeks ago, a small girl was seen chasing a grade four, and upon capturing it, the curse was ingested."
You frown. "Who reported this?" Satoru hears the panic in your voice, no matter how strong you try to be. Just like when you were teenagers, you feign confidence against him, yet in equal power, Satoru can see right through you.
"A grade three sorcerer working within this district reported it to the higher ups. They've decided her potential is too strong to ignore."
You're staring at him wide eyed, and he feels guilt as he watches you grieve this life. Satoru wouldn't tell you how he'd practically pleaded with them to let her be a child before introducing her to the horrors of this world, because he didn't want you to know he'd failed you.
"What if I refuse?"
"You know the answer, do I really have to spell it out to you? There is no other choice." His words imbue a hopelessness into you, and you finally give up, walking past him to take a seat on the couch. The cushions sink under you, and your hands rest upon each leg. There's one question you have left.
"Does he know?" Monotone, dead. Your tone sends a chill over Satoru's spine; he's never seen you so genuinely defeated. Even when he'd found out about your pregnancy, you held yourself together better than this. But even with all of Satoru's experience, his strength, he still couldn't empathise with that of parenthood. Megumi was the closest thing he had to that, though he understands that the relationship the pair share is nothing close to the love you would have for your own blood.
"You left with no word as to where you'd gone. If I told him it was to have his child, what would he have done?" There's some bitterness to his words, and you cringe.
"Didn't he question the fact there's a child with his technique?"
Satoru moves from one foot to the other, crossing his arms as he watches your meek state. You're slouched and sweating, and your eyes haven't lifted from the same patch of carpet for the past two minutes. Though with his quietness, your gaze lifts, stopping at his lips.
"He doesn't know."
You nod once, taking your teeth between your lips. This is worse than being lectured, you think, enduring the judgement of a person you value highly, feeling their revulsion of a decision you made long ago.
"Don't you think he had a right to know before all of this?" You stay silent, your arms closing in closer to your body as if to hug yourself. "It's only right he hears it from you, before this goes any further."
Only, you still haven't made that call, and told him the truth. You watch your daughter walk toward the school, her hand in yours, while Suguru is none the wiser. It's a secret you knew would be revealed within the next few hours, unrevealed as long as you'd been able.
Shoko's leaving the lab when you enter the halls. You don't notice her at first, instead preoccupied by the small girl beside you, though when your eyes lift from the little fingers wrapped around yours, you stop dead in your tracks.
Not many things shock Shoko.
She likes to think she's seen all, and likely knows most of what goes on even if only surface level, but when she sees you in Jujutsu High with a child clutching at your hand, she comes to a standstill, eyes wide like a deer in headlights.
Keiko takes a few steps, her little feet tapping on the hard floors, though soon notices her mother's halted action.
"Mama, come on."
Shoko's brow raises, a sharp gasp on her lips as she pieces things together. The child looks to be around two, and not long before that you'd left - this must've been the result of that pregnancy test you'd requested long ago. And as she stares at her a little longer, taking in at the warm toned brown eyes, she realises why you'd left. This child had to be Suguru's, her features were far too akin to his to be coincidental.
She says your name, though it sounds foreign to her now. She wonders when the last time she'd called out to you was, and when you peer anxiously to her expression, she realises how you've matured, mellowed almost. There's a protectiveness she can sense, you're definitely more closed off, but that's understandable considering the fact you've been gone and likely without much social contact.
"Hi." Part of you had hoped for a better reunion, but with how things went it was only understandable that Shoko wouldn't be running to hug you anytime soon.
"You’re a mother, huh?" There's little goosebumps over your skin as you swallow, nodding slowly. Of course, she'd remember your offish self asking her for tests, and she'd be able to piece things together. "What's her name?"
You knew Shoko wouldn't bring harm to you both, and if she's worked out your daughter's father, she wouldn't press you on it.
"It's Keiko." You look down to your daughter, who's holding your hand a little tighter in the presence of a stranger. Funny, growing up you'd thought these people would be your children's family, yet here your baby is, backing up at the sight of a woman she'd never met.
"Keiko," Shoko crouches to her eye level. "That's a beautiful name." Shoko offers her a smile, and Keiko's hand loosens up a little, though it's still clammy on your palm.
"Thanks." It's spoken quietly, and the 'th' sounds more like an 'f', but it's coherent enough.
"What are you both doing here?" Shoko's looking back to you now, standing up to meet your level once again. Mouth opening, your free hand comes to your arm to fiddle with your jacket.
"The higher-ups found out about her technique."
"Manipulation?"
You pause. So, she's figured it out. "Yeah. They want him to show her the way, I guess."
"But he doesn't know."
"No, he doesn't." You offer her a half smile in hopes she would forgive you. "I was kind of hoping he'd find out before i got here, but he hasn't."
Shoko wants to tell you it's your job to tell him and that you need to face your fears, but she keeps her mouth closed in order to save your feelings. Instead, she nods quietly, arms crossed. When the air is too stale to bare any longer, you breathe it in, deciding to take you leave before you would combust on the spot.
"I've got to find Yaga, we have a meeting." Your words are rushed and you almost stumble as you walk past her.
"Who was that?" Keiko questions in her own muddled words, and you force a happy expression when meeting her gaze.
"Mama's old friend, from school."
Suguru sits back in the beat up couch, bitter instant coffee still swirling as he places it on the low table. The staffroom has definitely seen better days, he was sure this furniture would've been used back when he'd attended Jujutsu High, with stains and scratches over old wood, rings from mugs of coffee much like his own. Budget cuts had meant money was syphoned into other things, much less into staff.
"A meeting, with Yaga?" He repeats Satoru's words carefully, brow creased. He watches as the brown liquid begins to settle, a few bubbles at the surface meeting in the middle.
"Yeah, something about a new student." The explanation makes much less sense to Suguru, because this year he's supposed to be taking on more missions, and offering a supporting role rather than holding his own classes.
"And why would that concern me?" His voice is tired, he's tired. The school is working them all into an early grave, he thinks. What was supposed to be more of a career break had somehow turned into more work than he's ever had, and he realises the only way out of this is to leave Jujutsu society for good - much like you did.
Suguru can't deny he feels responsible for your sudden leaving. As if a phone call would've fixed anything between you after he'd not only slept with you, but left you to fend for yourself afterward too. He thinks about you a lot, much to his own distaste. It's his fault you're not here, after all.
"You'll be teaching them part time."
Suguru outwardly sighs, a hand flying up to massage his temples. "Of course." It was drenched in acidity, and Satoru shifts. He's still standing, muscles tense as he watches his friend stress himself further. It's been a difficult few years, and he is sure Suguru is at the end of his tether. Satoru worries that your return might just be the thing that breaks him entirely.
"What do you know, Satoru?" When he zones back into the room, glancing away from the disgustingly beige walls to peer into his friend's brown eyes, he realises he'd worn his concerns too evidently.
"Not much," He lies, something he's found himself doing consistently as of recent. "She's young, though. A child." He tries to soften the blow by letting on that piece of information now, because he knows Suguru will be disgusted to find out they're having him begin training with a child who cannot yet read, let alone understand what a curse is.
"How young?" Suguru's intuition tells him that something is awry here, but he can't place his finger on what exactly it is. Satoru is definitely withholding something important, and he understands that he's not going to find out what until he's in Yaga's office. "Fine, don't tell me."
With a sigh, he pushes himself up from the couch, all the while Satoru is stood in silence, that pitying look he hates being bestowed unto him. The coffee on the table is going cold, not that Suguru has much of a stomach for it anyway.
a/n: soooo yes, reader ran from her problems (sorrrry) but it looks like suguru is about to find out everything...
" so, you're tellin' me you took a liking to one of your clients and took him back to yours for a little extra ‘product’ ?! "
𒄬࣪݁ ˖ geto suguru x dealer!reader
contents. smut with some plot, no sex just eating out (hottest thing a man can do), petname (doll), mention of drugs, use of drugs, not proofread, eng isn’t my first language, bit of fluff here and there ✧ w.count 1.1k
a/n sorry this was a late post, i've been holding it for sooo long because writing smut is not easy for me. anyways, this was the most requested on my poll, requests are still open in my inbox !
also in the story i was supposed to mention that c.meth increases your sex drive buuuttt i forgot so..
+ i appreciate any reblogs and likes 💛
THE TRADE-OFF | 2:09PM
ᡴ੭ your apartment was only could only be so 'big', cramping you up, object between object along your boxes of carts. it was a mess, clothes everywhere and probably even some specs of white powder from previous clients. i mean who could blame you? you were only trying to juggle between a job and studies; to which you barely cared for anyway.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀your parents would be disappointed, sighing at the sight of your marks in contrast to the others in your batch. they wouldn't say anything specific — no — they would just ask how were doing, if something was distracting you; and something was. when you got into the business, it was only out of necessity, money was running low; now you do it out of habit, running back to the drugs you produced to test and sell.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀test and sell. that's all you had to do. no need to interact with your buyers, no need to give them more than what they ask for, - who is that benefitting? - and definitely no need to be staring at them longer than demanded. you hadn't meant to do it on purpose; gripping the pack while you stared at that loose string of hair in front of his face. where had this man been hiding?
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀"uh, sorry was that not enough?" he awkwardly pointed accordingly to the couple tens in your hand, still tugging at the plastic bag of crystal. "miss?" he leaned closer, trying to snap you out of whatever trance you were clearly trapped in. it took you a couple blinks, but you were out — finally — and gave him the drugs in exchange for sixty (even though it costs well over a hundred, especially since it was c.meth).
⠀⠀⠀⠀he waved goodbye, saving you from that god awful embarrassing encounter. you often forgot what was considered a good time to speak, this post-shame event certainly not being one of them. "I've got more back at my place," your finger leads behind you, unreliably locating your dorm, "its on the house."
⠀⠀⠀⠀"can't deny a smoke with a pretty lady," he turned back and smiled slightly, trailing behind as you walked (desperately trying to brush of the fact that he just complimented you). the whole time you two followed the rough concrete pathway towards your dorm, it was silent. "ah, you aren't trying to kill me are you?"
⠀⠀⠀⠀you shook your hands, as well as your head, denying his (obviously sarcastic) joke, "n-no! i would never.. uhm." in response, he only chuckled, looking at the way that comment strung you nervous. nearing your dorm, you had realised how messy you left it; you were sure that if the guy stepped inside, he would only be met with cups and dishes in every corner of the room, — and what's worse — was how hot the guy was. in an attempt to distract him, you overloaded the poor guy with questions.
⠀⠀⠀⠀"what's your name?"
"suguru."
"uh huh, first or last?"
"first."
"what's your last?"
⠀⠀⠀⠀"geto- what exactly are you trying to do?"
⠀⠀⠀⠀finally getting a hold of the glass structure, designed for the crystal, underneath a pile of untouched textbooks, you threw one in his hand and continued searching for the other. "aha!" your hand shot up, clutching the twin bowl pipe, unaware of how much of a loser you looked (especially with the checkered pattern lied across your unbuttoned shirt; acting as a jacket)
PAYMENT | 6:27PM
how long had you two been wasting away on your thrifted couch? how long was this going to last? you examined his every move: following those sleepy eyes when he made even the smallest remark about your looks. he laughed, smoke dragging out his mouth. fuck, he was hot. at this point, you didn't know if it was the drugs talking or if was just, you. "sooo, how are you going to repay me?"
⠀⠀⠀⠀what was that? a fucking joke (not a good one definitely)? "thought it was on the house, doll," he took another hit — this time from your own pipe — as you palmed your forehead, "why? you looking for something else?" he blew the smoke onto the crevice between your head and shoulder. it was definitely the drugs talking. his tongue reached your neck, sending a cold shiver down your body while he lapped and sucked.
⠀⠀⠀⠀his body shifted on closer, the smell of his musk, vanilla cologne emitting from his hair. imagine how devastated your parents would be if they found out your time to time 'hobby' led to this? he was gentle with you, caressing your jaw while you felt his own creeping down your body. his unoccupied hand took out the tie in his hair, letting down the manbun that drove you crazy in the first place.
⠀⠀⠀⠀this wasn't like those wild-going porn scenes you would see online, no this was far, far more intimate (at least in your eyes). What was it about the way he touched you? Was it how confident he was; expertly navigating his way down your body? He had you clawing at his scalp, mouth crossing against your warm skin as he unbuttoned those nerdy, skinny jeans of yours.
⠀⠀⠀⠀he knelt on the carpeted floor, flashing you a comforting smile and staring up and down between your face and soaked panties, before pulling your sense of cover down. at some point when you closed your eyes or when he smiled, his lips started placing small kisses around your cunt; making you fully unravel, contorting your face at the feeling. it didn't help when he drew in your clit and soon, started dipping inside you.
⠀⠀⠀⠀"mhh.. want you suguru"
⠀⠀⠀⠀"no doll, this is only for you. not me" he mumbled, sending vibrations to your bundle of nerves. you tried to close your thighs at the sudden sensitivity, but his hands kept them open; the tip of his fingers digging into the fat of your cutis. geto wasn't the type of man to study bills and divide it with you to the dollar, you could tell he would look after you; spoiling you rotten and finishing it off with something like this.
⠀⠀⠀⠀he was driven inside, his tongue pushing against the rigid but gummy walls of your pussy until he finally found your sweet spot. the way you arched towards him was a pointer, or maybe it was when he felt how you clenched around him. he curled his tongue, shoving it deeper each time he writhed inside you.
⠀⠀⠀⠀oh my god. "f-fuck geto!" you had made an effort to push his forehead back and (fortunately) failed. his lips were glued to you, sweat from his cheeks accumulating and sticking to your legs. uncontrolled moans were escaping your throat as he pressed firmly against your g-spot and executing that last straw. you had been far gone from him; shaking as you released on his palate.
⠀⠀⠀⠀"you alright?" for some reason, there weren't any lewd thoughts in your mind. it was ust him and the way he made you feel so good. you came to the conclusion that it wasn’t the drugs, and that you has been absolutely infatuated with your client, suguru geto.
