"--need to go--" kiss "--just for a minute, let me--" kiss "--go to the bathroom, I--" kiss "--god, you're a menace, I'll lift you onto this counter, and you'll stay there until I get back--" giggle, kiss.
You whispered filthy whispers against Kento's lips, playfully dragging him back to you by the collar each time he tried to release himself.
Half-huff, and half-kiss, he grumbled and spun you around as you laughed, gripping your hands behind your back and pressing you forwards against the counter.
"--unhand me, wife, or I'll tie you up--"
"--don't threaten me with a good time, Kento--"
"--truly-- truly incorrigible woman--"
You laughed again, arching back against him, and pressing his cock into the crease of your barely-covered arse until he moaned; in annoyance, or lust? You weren't sure. Perhaps both. You had the bit between your teeth.
Kento wouldn't put up with your shenanigans for much longer. He slapped your arse, jiggling it with a growl, and dashed past your swiping hands to the bathroom. You whined, then sighed to the sound of his victory chuckle, the bathroom door clicking closed behind him.
Silence-- for 30 seconds. A minute. Two minutes. Three. You called out, smirking.
"Doesn't take that long to pee, Ken--"
The bathroom door clicked open. A low, mulish grumble sounded from within.
"I...can't go."
You frowned, stifling a laugh. "What?"
"I can't go. I'm too hard. I...can't pee."
Bursting out into laughter was your downfall, and it broke down into panicked squeals as Kento stomped out of the bathroom after you, his lap tightly tented over his cock.
He tossed you onto the sofa, dragging you back by the legs when you tried to wriggle and escape, and pinning you beneath him with nuzzled growls to your throat.
"--thorn in my side-- too erect to piss, and other problems my wife causes--"
"--oh, no, whatever can we do to fix this--"
"--you're talking too much and wearing too many clothes, as usual-- come back here-- certainly one thing we can do to fix this, madam--"
I just recently downloaded tumblr (yes I used to just go on safari and use it) but thanks to @pseudowho and @tonycries they are the reason why i decided to to download tumblr so thank you to them. Their fics are so amazing, I’m always fed well (especially their nanami ones 😩) anyways I love you both mwah mwah
I'm sorry you're having a shitty time at home. Inbox and messages always open on my end for rants/therapy/love. You'll make it through, kiddo.
-- Haitch xxx
AHHH thank you haitch it just got a little better today 😓 just tired of being the eldest daughter and by proxy the third parent and the therapist that holds the family together. BUT it’s looking a little sunny after today, and hopefully we will be able to involve a REAL therapist this time :p
regardless, I REALLY appreciate you reaching out. you must have hundreds of asks and still worried about a little stranger on the internet. I appreciate it 🫂
Higuruma Hiromi huffed, and puffed, and heaved the bucket up against his belly. He lifted with his back. Cold water slopped over his shirt, sticking it to his skin and trickling down beneath his boxers and belt. He shivered. He scoffed at the many-toothed creature that loitered behind him.
"Good god, can you-- can you not-- not help a bit?" Hiromi huffed. He tripped over stage rope and abandoned props, through the curtain-swag dark, towards the stage.
Judgeman, armless and silent, hovered along behind him. It must have sensed its dismissal, because by the time Hiromi had reached stage left, it had floated away behind a curtain and not come back.
Hiromi stepped onto the stage; but the stage was already occupied. Hiromi froze. Indignant fury, bitter petulant disappointment, and pearl-clutching affront washed through him.
There was a girl in his bath.
A girl.
A girl in his bath.
"Ah!" called Hiromi, walking faster now with his sloshing bucket, like a father who had caught his child mid-nonsense. You, halfway through sinking into the bath, looked up. "Ah! No, no, no, thank you very much! Not today, thank you!"
"I beg your pardon--"
"That, is my bath!" Hiromi huffed, grunting as he set the bucket down on the lip of the tub. "That is my bath, I think you will find, and I have been filling it for hours--"
"Not a chance, I've been eyeing this up for days, I've brought bubble bath and everything--"
"Well!" Hiromi sniped, pouring the cold water into the bath, and grimacing with grim satisfaction as you squealed. "Well! That's just too bad, isn't it, because it's mine--"
"I'm already in, so it's mine."
A laugh, hysterical and mirthless. "Oh, no, that's not how this works, sweetheart-- out, now-- get out--"
Splashes. Cries of outrage. Oofs. Roars of irritation.
Hiromi's top half was drenched. He scrabbled to haul you out of the bath; and failed. You proved a slippery customer, and slid around in his grasp like a freshly-oiled dolphin.
"For goodness' sa-- keep still!"
"Shan't."
"You fucking child--"
Splashes. Giggles. Huffs of laughter, tongue in cheek and sour.
Eventually, drenched and growling to himself, Hiromi straightened up. You smiled up at him, sitting pretty. He shook off his soaked sleeves. He looked at you, pink with outrage; and, perhaps, something else. Something different.
"Fine," he snapped, petulant again. Though you had at least removed your socks and shoes, he did not, and clambered into the other end of the bath as you preened at him. "Fine. Have it your way. Be quiet. Don't talk to me."
"I've got bath bombs. And wine."
"Now we're talking."
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"...and so it comes to a point where it's no longer nihilism to say that the world is a cold and unjust place, and that nothing really matters, it's just miserable, hard fact--"
"Very hard to take you seriously when you're covered in bubbles."
The man you now knew as Higuruma Hiromi yanked on your bare foot, tickling it and pulling you towards him as you squealed. It was your turn with the one glass of wine, but he reached over and plucked it from your hand, draining it in one fell swoop.
You watched his Adam's apple bob. You shivered. He noticed. He draped your leg across his chest and shoulder, leaning his cheek into it with a sigh. His smile fell away, his face becoming hangdog and drawn again.
"It is a bit cold, isn't it?" he mumbled into your calf.
Your eyes softened. You sighed, and took a swig straight from the bottle, before leaning over and passing it to Hiromi. "The bath, or the world?"
"Both."
"The bath, yes. The world, I...I can't bring myself to condemn."
"Then you're a foo--"
"And neither can you."
Higuruma stilled. His grip on your leg tightened. You felt every strong fingertip, mapping constellations upon your calf. You continued, softer.
"And that's what makes this so hard. Because you keep waiting for the apathy to come, and it's not coming. However many people you kill, however you try to convince yourself that the Culling Game is 'full of possibilities', it's not coming. The truth remains; you see the human cost of this, and it eats you up inside."
Hiromi did not answer. He stared into some endless place past the curtains, where red and black mixed as one, until you could not tell where one ended and the other began.
"There is joy to be found," you whispered; even in the depths of despair, yourself. "And there will always be the need for someone to fight for the justice required, for joy to be possible. And, you're covered in bubbles, and drinking straight from the bottle, and--"
"--in the bath with a beautiful woman," Hiromi murmured. You fell silent. Heat bloomed in your cheeks; down your breasts, your belly, your thighs, and then upon the inside of your ankle, where his lips and nose did graze. When his lips began a slow, longing press, he paused. His eyes flicked over to you, reading. You did not stop him. His lips finished their press, hot and branding.
"I don't want to keep doing this," he admitted, parting your thighs to slide himself up and between them, into something of an embrace with his chin rested between your breasts. Your heart could have broken, with the shards of soul in his eyes.
"Not...not this," he clarified, gesturing wanly at you as you sniffled out a laugh. "But this. The...the murder. The bloodshed and...and violence. I don't know what I am. What I've become. Just a murderer, covered in-- in--"
"Sadness and bubbles."
"Sadness and bubbles, yes," he huffed, nosing at the spot between your breasts until you arched up into him. You did not need to talk; the consent implied and the touch electric, and his mouth found your collarbones, your neck, your cheeks, your mouth, kissing, groaning as he tasted you and you buried your fingers into his hair.
Still, Hiromi fretted, even as he twitched and groaned and precum spurted to mix with the waterlogged cloth between his legs.
"If-- if I feel this," Hiromi panted, grinding his aching cock at the crest of your thighs until you reached down and released him, to his hiss and bared teeth. "If I feel this, what else will I feel-- fuck--"
"Then feel it," you gasped, shuddering as his mouth closed around your nipple and sucked, tongue swiping, teeth scraping. "Feel it-- and if you start c-crying halfway through, that's fine, no judgement--" A laugh, deep and appreciative. "--that's fine-- kind of hot, honestly--"
Another laugh; this one, thicker. "Shit...alright. Stay with me, at-- at the end. In for a penny--"
His hand, long-fingered and deft, had just slid down towards your pussy, when the theatre door creaked open way up at the top of the stairs. You froze. So did Hiromi. He turned his head slowly, and you felt rage beginning to prickle along his shoulders, unbound, until--
"Er, are you Higuru...uh...erm--"
You could hear the peach-haired boy's blushes from all the way down on the stage. You buried your face into Hiromi's chest, stifling your laughter. Hiromi, still mercurial and high-voltage, was less amused.
"You're interrupting," he toned, low and deadly smooth. You felt the peach-haired boy tense. You cut it before it built.
"Hey," you whispered to Hiromi. "He's just a boy. Give him a chance."
Hiromi nosed at your ear, huffing a little. He stilled, and thought, then spoke up, barking up to the boy.
"Give me twenty minutes. Then come back. And I'll give you anything you want."
The boy froze. He looked baffled; sweetly so, as if it should be so easy. "Oh, uh...really?"
"Yes."
The boy scarpered. You turned back to Hiromi, and bit your lip. Hiromi grumbled, and reached down, and covered your hand that grasped his cock with his own, stroking himself with your grasp once, twice, three times, until he thickened and twitched and moaned.
"Right," he groaned, his fingers sliding down to press inside your pussy, readying you as you readied him. "Where were we?"
"Shit," Kento hissed to himself, braced on his elbows and leaning over on his knees, at the edge of the sofa. He sucked a bead of blood off the pad of his thumb, grumbling.
On his lap lay his blade; beside him, a trail of inkspotted white bandage, carefully uncoiled and recoiled into a ribbon. It's ancient, you thought; and your stomach lurched, as though Kento had snuck into a museum to unravel a mummy.
You padded towards him, all pyjamas and bare legs, before setting a coffee down upon the table.
"What's wrong?"
"It's getting sharp again. My blade."
You blinked. You paused. "That's...a problem?"
"It's a blunt blade. It is supposed to be blunt." At your bewilderment, Kento sighed, leaning back, and rubbing his jaw, before eyeing his blade mulishly. "It's cursed. It sharpens with overuse; it does not blunt. So every now and then, it needs...blunting. Or it's not as effective."
"You have a method for that, I assume?"
"I do. Or-- I did. First it was Haibara. Then, Gojo. But Gojo is away, so..."
You blinked again. You frowned. "I don't follow."
Kento didn't elaborate. Instead, he pulled out his phone, and dialed, and waited with it against his ear. Your frown only deepened when he finally spoke.
"Yuuji," Kento hummed. "I have a favour to ask. If you wouldn't mind."
+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+
It was a strange scene to watch. You didn't say a word as the exchange (of instructions and weapon) took place before you.
"Now, you must take very good care of it," Kento ordered, his hands grasping Yuuji's, which grasped the spotted blunt-- sharp-- blade. Yuuji looked terrified; but determined. Imbued with divine purpose. "I'll be away for a few days."
"I-- I will," Yuuji stuttered, clasping the blade to his chest and crying out as it threatened to slide from his grasp. Kento did not react as you did, your mouth pulling tight in horror as you reached out to catch the weapon. Kento held you back with one raised palm as Yuuji continued. "I...I can't believe you'd trust me with it, Nanamin."
"I would trust no-one else, Yuuji."
Yuuji looked as though he might cry. His lower lip drew up, and he grasped the blade like it was a newborn. "I won't let you down, Nanamin."
"Good. I'll call you in a few days."
"It...it doesn't need a case?"
"No. It's better without."
Yuuji walked away. You gave Kento a side-eye, faint with horror.
"Kento, you...are you sure? I mean, I love him, too, but don't you think he's a bit--"
You heard a metal CLANK! You saw the blunt blade slipping from Yuuji's arms to tumble down the steps beneath the torii gates. You could have wept, finishing with a sigh. "...a bit clumsy."
"I'm counting on it," Kento smiled, watching fondly as Yuuji sprinted down to the spotted blade, cursing and looking left and right to check for witnesses.
"I'm...sorry?"
"He'll have trouble with it," Kento hummed, watching as Yuuji struggled to keep the blade balanced within his grasp. "It doesn't like being sharp. And it likes to help itself along the way."
+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+
For two days, Kento and you suppressed your cursed energy, and followed Yuuji around every single corner.
Yuuji would slide the blunt blade into his backpack. His backpack would immediately tear open at the bottom, and the blunt blade would clang its way down a whole flight of stairs.
Yuuji would twirl it absentmindedly, lose his grip, and his soul would leave his body as the blunt blade clattered out of an open window that absolutely was not open before.
Yuuji would take it to bed with him, cradled in his arms in a swaddle, and would achieve little more than a completely sleepless night, as the blade slipped to the floor every five minutes on the dot.
The blunt blade would be left, growing duller by the minute, in the middle of a completely empty room upon a silk pillow, and by the time Yuuji returned, a pipe would have burst above it and water and sawdust would be seeping into its rough ferrous surface.
It was an impossible object; a veritable bastard of a piece of equipment, seeking to plunge and plummet and pummel every surface it could, until it was stained and ragged and chipped, and duller than a wet weekend. You got used to Yuuji's cries and shouts and roars of despair.
"This is cruel, Kento," you tutted, as Yuuji begged and pleaded with the blunt blade on his hands and knees ('How? How could this happen? I left you right there-- I left you right there! I'm so fucking clumsy, Nanamin's gonna kill me!').
Kento hummed to himself, satisfied. He checked his watch. "You're right. That should do it."
He pulled out his phone again. Ring-ring. Ring-ring. Click--
"Yuuji. I'm home. You have my blade?"
+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+
"You took good care of it?"
"Uh-- y-yeah-- the best."
Kento stroked a finger along the (damp, dirty, chipped) blade's edge. You watched Yuuji sweat. Kento smiled.
"I can tell. Thank you, Yuuji."
Yuuji visibly relaxed. Still, his heart seemed to have aged a decade. He staggered off towards the dorms as Kento twizzled his blade in his hands, satisfied. You grimaced at it; an antique, irreparably battered, and most importantly, blunt.
"He has absolutely ruined that, Kento."
"I know. Isn't it wonderful? He's even worse than Haibara was. Extraordinary."
Kento cleared his throat, and checked his watch again. He turned and made towards his car, with a spring in his step.
"Come along, my love. We should take the country roads back. I'll tie it to the towbar and drag it home, for good measure."
Kento stopped dead in his tracks, his cock only pressed halfway in. Embraced beneath him, cuddlefucking in missionary, you tried to keep a straight face, as if you weren't about to eep! from the delicious stretch of just half in.
Without glasses on, Kento still, somehow, managed to look over his glasses at you. His voice was mild, almost conversational, as he sought clarification.
"Is it...in?"
"...yeah, is it in yet?"
Something prickled over Kento's shoulders. He scoffed, heaving a sigh and bracing himself on his elbows. He unclipped his watch in one deft movement, laying it on the pillow beside your head.
"Ask me again in one minute. Then three. Then five."
You felt a droplet of sweat run down your soul.
"...Kento, I was just fucking--"
"--no, no, I insist. One minute."
"What are you going to--"
Kento slammed his cock into you so hard, you jolted up the bed with a shriek. If his abs hadn't held you in place beneath him, you'd have hit the headboard. Shocked, groaning from the wet slaps of Kento absolutely railing you, bottoming out until you could hardly see, you couldn't help but let out a breathy giggle.
"--c-can't...can't-- haaaaah, Kento!"
Time lost all meaning. Kento braced on his elbows, dragging his cock halfway out again with a grunt, and stopping. He glowered down at you.
"Ask me again."
You whimpered, digging your nails into his shoulders. You swallowed, trembling in anticipation.
"Is...is it, uh...in yet--"
Kento slammed into you again, creamy white lube squelching out of you onto the bed as you muffled your cries into the pillow, swearing you could feel him in your ribs.
Kento continued this for three, five, seven, nine, eleven minutes, until you were forced to admit, begrudgingly, that he and his seed were definitely in.
Higuruma:
Hiromi's eyes fluttered open. Having just released a sinful whimper from you sinking down onto his length, his brain suddenly short-circuited in fractious self-doubt and hyper analysis. In the end, nothing he could think took precedence, apart from a dumb:
"I'm-- I'm sorry? Is it...?"
Hiromi grasped your hips, pulling his shirt up and gripping it between his teeth so he could see where you were joined in his lap. He bucked up, just once, pausing for just long enough to shiver and moan at the slick, wet velvet of you. His head tipped back again with a weary sigh.
"You know," Hiromi chastised, grasping your hips to roll you over his cock, his hands strong, confident, "I'm so fucking tired, I'd have believed you. That I wasn't in."
You smirked above him, eliciting hushed whimpers and groans as you started to ride him. Hiromi allowed you to settle into your rhythm, before he berated you again.
"But also," he bickered, "how dare you, you cheeky cow, 'is it in yet', like I don't rail you blind every night with my 'is it in yet'--
You laughed, his chastisement turned punishing as he bounced you on him with glee, comedy turned feral.
"Oooo-ooohhh fuck-- love it when you-- when you think you're being funny-- love it--" Hiromi groaned, his voice muffled, his shirt hem between his teeth again as his eyes fixated on your stretched pussy sliding down his cock. You laughed, whimpering, breathless.
Intending to hold onto your hair just a bit, Toji instead pulled you up fully, from your hands and knees. With your back to his chest, speared upon him, you squealed. You felt the bulbous tip of him bully against your cervix, and squirmed, gasping his name.
"The fuck you mean, 'is it in yet?"?"
You groaned, regretting your decision already. Toji reached up and gently slapped your cheek, until your eyes opened, and he pointed to the mirror in front of you. You could see him smirking over your shoulder.
When he saw your eyes drift to the base of his cock, slick with your arousal, deep inside you, and angled upwards so you could see the bulging underside, he smirked again, twitching his erection once, twice, three times so you could see.
Snapping your moan in half, Toji fucked upwards once, hard.
"Is it in yet?" He mocked, his breaths heavy as he fucked, and you squealed, and he fucked, laughing.
"Is it in yet? Come on baby, tell me. Is it in yet? Is it? Shit, kid. I dunno, I need you to tell me. Is it in yet? Is it in yet?"
If only he'd stop impaling you on him for long enough for you to answer.
True!Form Sukuna:
He laughed. He actually laughed. He only stopped laughing when you, sweating with fearful uncertainty, started laughing too. Then, he grabbed your face, rough in one long-nailed hand.
"What do they teach girls these days?" Sukuna rumbled, tsk-ing, batting your cheek from side to side with his palm and the back of his hand; a cat with a mouse.
"Whatever they teach you," he sighed, with your thighs spread upon his, sat on his throne, "I will offer you the chance to be untaught."
You nodded, panting as he let go of your body, and you choked out and whimpered as you slid further and further down his lower length. You felt the heavy, thickening weight of his upper length, resting against your back.
Sukuna left you like this, hands-free, to be slowly impaled as he watched, almost bored. He seemed to be waiting for something.
"Well, come on then," he drawled, his jaw leaned on one hand, with one finger lazily circling your clit, just to feel your cunt flutter around him, "beg me."
Your brain stuttered, your pussy so stuffed you could hardly think; "Beg--b-beg for...for what...my Lord?"
"Beg me to unteach you whatever drivel it is they taught you, that you should think it funny to ask your master 'is it in yet?'"
You didn't hesitate, babbling, one of his hands circling round to grasp you by the throat as you did. "P-please unteach me, my Lord, I was just being silly, just--just--forgive me--"
Sukuna hummed, his half-smile almost gentle as he began to lift you off him again, enjoying the way your pussy clenched around his lower cock as you choked.
"Lovely manners." He purred. You jolted, gasping as you felt the thick tip of his upper cock begin to squeeze into your ass. You saw stars, blinded by the enormity of him, made dumb by your own stupid attempt at comedy.
"Let's make sure you understand the perils of the situation you chose to place yourself in, hmm?"
"Yuuji. I won't force you to tell me; I know you understand this. But I would appreciate it, as your--"
"As my what, Nanamin?"
A pause, stiff and tight. A barely audible sigh, and a tie being loosened. "As your...your mentor, I would appreciate it if you told me where you got that black eye."
You watched from the corner of your eye, from the kitchen. You'd been stirring the same cup of tea for almost five minutes. Your husband stood before your son child baby Yuuji, with his arms crossed. Yuuji sat before him, rested forwards on his knees, with a sulking grimace and a blueviolet eye.
"It doesn't matter, Nanamin. Forget about it."
"I cannot."
"I said, leave it--"
"I cannot."
Yuuji growled, bearing over and scruffling his peachy hair hard. Kento was unmoving; but not unmoved. He sighed again, drawing a dining chair before Yuuji, and sitting with crossed legs and folded hands and a doctored coolness. His voice was measured.
"It wasn't from a curse. And I understand you must hold yourself back in a fight with anyone ordinary, for fear of hurting them. As such, I commend you for your...restraint and responsibility. However--"
"Ugh, 'however'--!"
"However," Kento continued, his face darkening. Yuuji did not see it. He was not watching. You were. "It matters very much to me that you are safe, Yuuji, and if someone is hurting you--"
Yuuji would not hear it. He stood up fast. He plunged his hands into the pocket of his hoodie, and stomped past Kento, all the way to the bedroom that you and Kento called his, and slammed his door.
Kento was tense. Kento was silent. His shoulders seemed broader; the angles of his body and mind, more defined. His anger held presence and court.
You walked over slowly, and placed down Kento's coffee, and settled gently upon his thigh. His hand slipped around your waist, but he did not look up from the unseen horizon into which he stared. You removed his glasses. You folded them upon the table. He blinked.
"If you don't," you whispered, scraping your fingernails through his undercut, "then I will."
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"Hey, hey-- Itadori!"
"Hey, where you going! We just want to talk to you!"
"Just wanna be friends--"
Filthy laughter. Orcas circling the ice. Quick steps; quicker breaths. An alleyway; an escape!
A dead end.
Yuuji stopped short, his boots skidding in the gravel. His body and mind could not differentiate between the adrenaline of Curses and near-death, and the adrenaline of a pack of teenage boys his own age.
A fight flared up in him, hot and vicious, but when the first jeering grin appeared around the corner, Yuuji snuffed the fire out. He could not. He could kill them. He would kill them, not again can't happen again can't--
"Guys, I...I'm just heading home. I don't want any trouble--"
"New school, huh, Yuuji?"
"Oooh, new school!"
"For pricks and retards, is it?"
That laughter again. Yuuji hadn't noticed himself backing up, until his back hit the wall. He kept his head down. The ghost of a punch still ached in his eye. He squeezed them closed, trying not to cry, just a boy just a stupid little kid--
A shove. Another shove; a hit, with nowhere to go.
That fire sparked again. Yuuji couldn't stop it. The injustice of it all, all the faces of bullies of futures past clouding his vision with red. Patchwork, grinning and scarred. A stolen face with a tack-stitched forehead. His childhood tormenters, all the same, they're all the same kill them like they deserve them they'll know what's coming to th--
"Yuuji."
A voice from the mouth of the alleyway. Yuuji's heart stopped. Relief warred with shame; the latter won, and it ran down his face and neck like hot sick.
The boys looked up; their faces grotesque, steeped in foul shadow as they were. They twisted again.
"Awww, Yuuji! This your boyfriend, Yuuji?"
"How much do you pay?"
"How much did he pay?"
Laughter, laughter, laughter. Cool, steady steps approaching closer. Coos and jeers, hot spewing goading nonsense. A throat, being cleared.
"Do you know these young men, Yuuji?"
Silence for a moment. The pack, looking down at Yuuji and waiting for an answer. Eventually, Yuuji mumbled.
"Just...just go, Nanamin. Please."
A hum; almost regretful. "I cannot. It wouldn't be right, as your..."
"My what?" Yuuji spat, his face arching up to glower at Kento for the first time since he had approached.
Kento looked unmoved; but not unmoving. As he spoke, with one fine brow delicately raised, he was removing his beige jacket, and folding it neatly onto a black industrial bin, and rolling up his sleeves, and removing his tie.
Yuuji's face fell lax, as Kento wrapped said tie around his hand.
"As your father." Kento turned to the pack of boys, with a look that could turn men to stone. A few of them were wise enough to take a step back. "Now. I suggest you all go home."
A pause...then laughter; this time, uncertain.
"Oh yeah, old man?"
"Yeah, yeah-- more like 'Daddy'-- like 'em young, do ya--"
"'Father', eh? That a kink thing?"
Yuuji snarled, stepping forwards with a fist cocked back. "Don't you fucking dare! Talk to him! Like that! Bastard! I will mess you up--"
"Language, Yuuji."
"Ugh, Nanamin--"
Kento raised one finger. He paused, until all eyes were upon him. He clarified.
"We will fuck you up."
Yuuji froze. Laughter threatened to bubble out of him. Kento cleared his throat, and stepped one leg back, and tugged his trousers to loosen at the thighs. He flexed his fingers to crack.
"Now, boys. Are we going to fight?"
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"Irresponsible," you spat, daubing Kento's split knuckles with antiseptic. "Irresponsible, childish, stupid little boys!"
"Awww, Mrs.Nanamin, they had it comi--"
"Not them!" you spat again. You tossed down your gauze, and stood before them both (cringing on the sofa like children) with your hands on your hips. "You! You two, starting a fight in an alleyway, like a pair of-- of--"
"Thugs?"
"Delinquents."
"Yes!" you snapped, glaring down at Kento. He hung his head. Yuuji's ears were red. You turned to him. He cowered like a puppy. "Yuuji. Go to your room."
Yuuji didn't need to be told twice. He ran. He slammed the door behind him. There was a pause. Footsteps. He reopened the door, just to close it politely.
You waited a few moments, breathing hard. Kento dared to peek up at you from beneath his brow. You peeked back over your shoulder...then crouched down to Kento, flushed and whispering and grinning.
"Did you fuck them up?"
"I did."
"God, I knew you would, I'm so proud of you-- so gorgeous-- I adore you--"
A grunt of surprise; a sharp intake of breath.
"Darling-- please-- I'm injured--"
A scoff. Thighs straddling Kento's lap. "Not that injured."
"If Yuuji comes out--"
"After that ear-bashing I just gave him? Please. He won't leave that room for a week. Now get undressed."
