#but just know that i will not tolerate any of that bullshit here. because if u really do care about ppl as much as u say u do

[gojonanami]

❝ 𝐘𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐙𝐀 𝐅𝐈𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 ❞

❝ WHAT HAPPENS WHEN TWO YAKUZA HEIRS ARE FIGHTING OVER WHO GETS TO MARRY YOU ?? ❞

✧ pairing: yakuza!satoru gojo x f!reader x yakuza!suguru geto

✧ summary: you had no patience for the yakuza lifestyle your grandfather had -- you wanted to live a normal life, but when it leaks that your grandfather is in talks to have you engaged to one of two yakuza heirs -- you realize you're in deeper than you thought -- especially when they both fall in love with you.

✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, fluff, inspired / dialogue / scene concepts taken from the manga “yakuza fiance,” (which the fic is named after), reader's age is ambiguous, but all are 20s+, violence (as expected from mafia / yakuza stories), blood, stsg have tattoos, implied satosugu (just a passing mention of dating briefly), stsg have sadomasochistic tendencies, a little ooc, switch! gojo (very sub gojo), switch! geto, oral (f + m), deepthroating, handjob (m), fingering (f! receiving), double penetration, sex (p in v), creampie, poly relationship implied ending,

✧ wc: 18,476

“I don’t want to marry either of you,” 

And your statement is met with confused stares — and normally stares like this wouldn’t be terrifying to the average person, but these were not average men you were dealing with. 

Satoru Gojo and Suguru Geto were anything but average — in many ways. 

Both were incredibly handsome — Satoru was blessed with a piercing blue gaze of the heavens and snow white locks that could stun any person into silence, and Suguru was no slouch either — with long inky black locks tied into a neat bun and his sharp features and his almost all too alluring smile — the two of them looked like they belonged to a modeling agency. Both were also brilliant, attending one of the best high schools in Tokyo, before going to the best university, leading in their respective specialities (Satoru studying physics, while Suguru chose literature). 

And, the two were both the heirs to two of the most dangerous Yakuza families in all of Japan. 

But right now, they are your biggest problems, personified. 

Their families were both vying for your hand in marriage — thanks to your meddling grandfather who shipped you off to Tokyo to get a would-be Yakuza husband — your yakuza family hoping to broker peace after decades upon decades of fighting with one of the other two biggest yakuza families around — the Gojo and Geto families respectively. 

“Excuse me?” Suguru speaks first, a single eyebrow raised, arms crossed over his crisp white button up. 

“I’m not here for this yakuza bullshit. I’m trying to live my own life — and I’m not in the mood to get swept along in my grandfather’s wishes for me to get married,” your hand is in your bag, fingers curled around your collapsible metal pole, “and I don’t care to know either of you, I don’t really care to stick around you — especially because all its earned me is the disdain of all the other students who have crushes on you — so how about we simply tolerate each other for this year?” 

Satoru whistles, “how disappointing,” his eyes raking over you from head to toe, “you’re worse than your reputation — we heard you were a stuck-up, spoiled rich girl that would do anything to get her way, but turns out you’re just normal,” he sticks out his tongue and makes a gagging noise, “how boring,” 

“Truly tiresome,” Suguru hums, his bangs falling in his dark gaze, “I was looking forward to a woman who could match up to us — maybe fuck me up, punish me, and strip away my dignity — type of girl who’d ruin my life, do you understand?” 

You stare at him, lips parted, brow furrowed, “What?” 

“In other words, we were hoping you were much more interesting than you were — as you are now, you’re just useless,” Satoru sighs dramatically, his pink lips curled in a smile, “bor-inggggg,” 

“You might as well go back to Osaka, or wherever it was you came from,” Suguru shrugs, hands in his pockets, as he pulls a cigarette and a lighter, “you could stay, but as it stands, you would be better off back home — maybe it would even start a war — that could be fun, Satoru,” he remarks, his grin growing more sinister by the minute, as he places the cigarette between his lips, and lighting it. 

“Let’s actually not be so hasty, Suguru. She could have some use,” he holds out his fingers to frame you between them, “could be worth something if we have her work at one of our families clubs — selling her body. She could make some use for us,” he says cruelly, “Otherwise, go back home, and let them know we’re the ones not interested in you,” he says, brushing past you along with Suguru. 

And you couldn’t decide which one of their smiles were the most bone chilling — and why you couldn’t quite find your voice in that moment. And you didn’t — not until you finally reached home, your phone ringing. 

“How’s it going, dear granddaughter?” you could hear the grin of the old coot even over the phone — and how could you tell him you wanted to go home now? You had hoped to go there to give two rejections — not earn two of your own. You hoped to stick out the year before leaving this place behind, if only to appease your grandfather. 

“I’m fine, but I think…I think I’m homesick,” you sit on the edge of your bed, hunched over, hand holding your head up, propped against your knee. 

“Why’s that? Did something happen?” 

“Nothing, I just—” 

“You’re not coming back home,” and your hopes fall, “one year, you have to stay one year no matter what. Don’t care if you have to fight with every bone in your body and fiber of your being — last a year,” 

“But why—” 

“Make those boys fall for you, and then break their hearts, heh — your grandfather is a heartbreaker and I know you can do the same,” and you know his lips are curled in a smile not too dissimilar to the two men you met today, “don’t forget where you come from — and what you’re worth,” and he cuts the line, as you stare at your phone, before tossing it away and lying back. 

Well, you know what you had to do. 

~~~

“Morning,” you know where’d they be — the only free period they had together that they spent in the dining hall with their entourage — including some girls who had been harassing you about how you knew the pair — ones you had suspected in fucking with your locker, smearing mud all over your shoes. A small retaliation for capturing their precious crushes’ attention.

The two heirs only stare for a moment — it had been two weeks since they had seen you, “thought I had gone home?” 

“Surprised you didn’t,” Suguru remarks, utterly disinterested from the look in his eyes, despite the smile plastered on his lips, “guess I lost the bet, Satoru,” 

You raise an eyebrow at Satoru, “you thought I’d stay?” 

“Thought you'd stay to take me up on my offer to sell your body,” he holds out his hand as Suguru slaps a stack of bills in his palm, “did you?” 

“I did actually,” your lips curl, as their gazes slide to one another, before you drop a bag on their table, “one kidney, 5,000,000 yen,” and you take delight in the smiles that slide off their expressions, as they stare at you, Satoru looking over the lip of the bag before you knocked it over and let the stacks of money spill over the table, “it took two weeks since it took a while to arrange and recover, but it was well worth it,” 

The pair only can stare — expression unreadable and words seemingly stolen from their mouths, as you only smiled down at them, your gaze digging into their faces like daggers.

Suguru’s eyebrows knit together, “How did you—“ 

“Friend of a friend,” you shrug, “I’ll have to be on a low sodium diet and probably do blood work a little more frequently but you were right about one thing — I was being weak,” you lift up your shirt to show the bandage on your side, their eyes wide, as they can only stare, “I won’t be making that mistake again,” 

And you place your foot up on their table, leaning in, as the mask slips from your face, and your anger surges forth, “listen here, you masochistic fuckers, I’m not scared of either one of you. I don’t care if I have to crawl home choking on my own blood, I’ll be sure you’re choking on each other’s as I drag you both to hell. I’m staying here, whether either of you like it or not,” 

“You can’t talk to them like that—“ one of the girls pipes up, her lips twisted in a frown. 

“I can talk to them however I want - do you know who I am? I come from a family just like there’s but we actually know how to cover up our crimes,” you chuckle, head tilting, “do you know how easy it’d be to get rid of you two?” Your gaze slides to the other girl, “it’d be all too simple — and trust me, I’d get my hands dirty if it’s the two of you,” your lips curl into a wide grin as you add, “after all, you guys did me the favor of dirtying my shoes already,” 

And the two blanch white, all indignance replaced with genuine fear — and you had never known someone could look at you as someone to be feared. 

And you didn’t know you would like it so much. 

You staple the smile on your face again, as the two heirs still sit speechless in their seats, eyes glued to you,  “Well that’s all,” you slide back, “I have to head to class—” 

But then your wrists are caught — pulling you back, as you find yourself pinned on either side by the two heirs, your body tense, before your gaze slides between them, “What?” 

“Marry me,” they both say simultaneously — and you gape at them. 

You are pushing them back, palms pressed against their chests, but find yourself met with two immovable objects, instead trying to squirm out of their grips. “What?” And their grips loosen enough for you to take a step back, but their hands remain around your wrists. 

“I have to have you,” Suguru presses a chaste kiss to the back of your hand, dark gaze lidded as he looks up at you, and a shiver climbs up your spine, “I’ve never been so terrified or turned on in my life — it must be love,” 

Satoru is the same, mesmerized with eager words, “I want you to do what you promised, Princess — ruin my life,” Satoru’s lips curled in a wide grin, “want you to completely fuck me up, dominate my entire life — and there’s only one way to do that, marry me,” 

Suguru only scowls at Satoru, “You know Satoru, it’s very rude to propose after your best friend does,” Suguru’s gaze slides to him, “she’s mine,” and his other hand finds your shoulder, pulling you against his chest, even as you struggle against their grips, “her family reached out to mine first,” 

“Fuckers, I swear to god, let me go—“ but they act as if they can’t hear you, a current of possessiveness sweeping their thoughts away. 

“So what? Her family decided to ask for my hand — looks like yours wasn’t good enough,” Satoru only grins, pulling you against him instead, his breath warming your flushed skin, as you grimace, “and I’d make her happier than you ever would.” 

“Want to take this outside, Satoru?” Suguru’s glare sent chills down your spine, but Satoru’s lips split into a smile so wide, you were afraid his head would crack in two. 

“Why? Feeling lonely? Go by yourself,”

And finally you stomp on Satoru’s foot before elbowing Suguru in the stomach, drawing groans from both boys, as you stumble away from them, whirling to face them, “Don’t treat me like your goddamn property or that I’m a prize to be won,” your words slip like venom from your lips, “don’t ever fucking touch me without asking,” 

“Of course, we’re sorry,” Suguru only grins after, holding his stomach, but he still looks all too delighted, “you should reprimand us like the scum we are, isn’t that right Satoru?” 

Satoru nods, pouting, “Yeah we deserve more of a punishment,” and your skin crawls at their eagerness. 

“I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with you two, but I don’t want anything to do with it,” you walk away, hiding your dumbstruck expression, but the two only followed you. 

“You can’t just walk away from us, you have to decide who you want,” Suguru calls after you, their long strides meant they caught up all too fast, and you’re armed with your collapsible pole now, pointing it at both of them. 

“Two minutes ago, both of you thought I was normal and boring,” your eyes narrow — was this another plot to just sell you to some club? 

“And I’m sorry about that sweetheart,” Satoru’s arm is around your waist again, while Suguru’s fingers intertwined with yours, “we were clearly wrong — and you have to take responsibility,” 

You stare at them, “for what?” 

And he’s leaning to whisper in your ear, “I’m so hard for you right now,” And you’re whirling on them with the pole, but they both expertly dodge your assault, before you’re hurrying away. But they let you go, watching after you with a grin. 

“This is going to be fun,” Suguru remarks, looking at his best friend, “I can’t guarantee I won’t kill you for her hand,” 

Satoru only smirks in reply, “You stole the words out of my mouth, Suguru.” 

~~~

It had been a week — a week of you trying skillfully to evade the two yakuza heirs. 

And you had failed. No matter how fast you left your classes, where you hid, where you sat — the two always found you. And now you have resorted to sitting outside to eat your lunch, being careful to avoid any stray glance of your presence. You sat, back against the building, as you held your head, bento box in your lap — how long until they would get the message? How long until they figured out you wanted nothing to do with them? 

Your grandpa had told you to make them fall for you, but you didn’t think you had too much more to do with how the two were following you around, dogging your every step. 

How would you last another year? 

You opened your bento — at least for once, you could enjoy your lunch without one of them— 

“There you are,” and your lunch nearly goes tumbling out of your lap, but you grasp it, keeping your food from spilling out of your bento, and you turn to meet the gaze of Suguru, leaning against the windowsill, “you’re a fast one, sweetheart,” his head tilted and lips curled in his signature smile. 

“How the fuck did you find me so fast?” you stare at him, brow furrowed, “it’s barely been five minutes, and this campus is huge,” 

“It’s the power of love, of course,” you cringe, and he laughs, bringing his knuckles to his lips, “oh rather, it’s the power of the tracking device I slipped in your bag,” 

And you blink, “You what?” 

He shrugs, “Well how else would I have found you so quickly? I’ll slip it in your shoe next time,” and he sighs, as you dig through your bag, before turning it upside down and letting your things spill out on the grass, “besides, there’s a good reason I’m tracking you,” and you find the tracker before stomping on it, digging your heel into it, crushing it into the dirt, “there’s been a kidnapping of another Yakuza heiress,” 

And your eyes flit to him, and he’s still smiling at you, “Who?” you continue to collect your things, shaking out textbooks and examining your things for any other hidden trackers. 

“You’ll learn tonight — come to the compound tonight — you’ve been formally invited by both my father and Satoru’s father,” and he’s hopping out of the window, fingers brushing yours as he hands you your pencil case, and he’s all too close now, his warm breath warming your lips. 

“And if I refuse?” and his lips curl in a smirk. 

“You’d be offending not only my family, but Satoru’s as well—” and he’s rising to his feet, offering you a hand, “and it might end in an all out war, but that would be just fine for us — would it for you?” 

You glare at him, taking his hand reluctantly, as he helps you to your feet, and you brush the dirt from your skirt and legs, “Fine, what time?” 

“After school, Satoru will be waiting by the gates for you,” he smiles, as he settles next to you, pulling out his own lunch, and you tilt your head, “oh are you curious about me? I have my own business to attend to,” 

“Is that what the other bastard is up to?” and he chuckles at that, taking a bite of his food. 

“Something like that.” 

~~~~

“Took you long enough, pretty,” the Gojo heir’s eyes drag over you like spotlights as he leans against the gate outside, the other students staring as you two speak, whispering as they walk by, slowing down to either catch a longer glance at Satoru or hear a bit of your conversation, “with being so quick to leave for lunch, I thought you’d be just as quick leaving the building,” and he’s offering you a drink from the vending machine that you reluctantly take. 

“Well, I wasn’t exactly looking forward to being a spectacle,” you grumble, as you power walk away from the burgeoning traffic jam that Satoru was causing, and he follows behind, “why do they all stare anyway? They know you're a yakuza, don’t they?” 

“Part of the draw,” he shrugs, the hiss of his own soda filling the air as he pops it open, “everyone wants what they can’t have, but don’t worry, I only have eyes for you, sweetheart,” you grimace as he sips at his soda, raising an eyebrow, “so what can’t you have?” 

You both finally reach the heart of the city, bustling with people left and right — the one thing you couldn’t get used to from the quieter life you led, “Some peace and quiet, apparently,” you adjust your bag on your shoulder in a tighter grip, if only you could lose him in this crowd and be done with all this shit, but it wasn’t that simple, and then it occurs to you, “did you put a tracker on me as well?” 

“Nah, I just used Suguru’s,” he smiles, as he downs the rest of his drink with his head thrown back, before crushing the can in his hand and tossing it away in the recycling bin nearby, “plus, I didn’t have time, been busy with other things, unfortunately,” 

“What things have you—” 

And you’re suddenly tugged into an alleyway, an arm around your neck and a hand clamped over your mouth, “Don’t struggle, it will only make it more difficult for you,” the man whispers in your ear, as another two men draw closer to your sides, “we’ll kill you if you do,” 

You can’t scream, but you don’t need to — because the man who grabbed you screams first. 

“Who the fuck are—” and he screams, his hands slipping from your side, the thump of his body against the pavement making you flinch, as you slowly turn to find Gojo, as he only glares at the other men, before his gaze slides to you, softening with a smile. 

“Sweetheart, it’s okay, come here,” and you swallow, before taking shaky steps to his side, and he’s pulling you behind him, “wait here,” 

It happens far too quickly.

Or maybe it’s just a blur now. Because now he’s beaten the three men into submission, their scarlet blood splattering against his uniform, the wet squelch of their flesh as he punches and kicks them, his shoe digging into their sides. He winds his fist back again. 

“That’s enough,” you say hoarsely, swallowing thickly, “they’re barely alive,” 

“More than they deserve,” he mutters, before sighing and grabbing one by his shirt, fabric straining against the dead weight of the man, and pulls him close, his hand connecting with his face as he slaps him awake, “You hear me? Listen,” he shakes him, until the man’s eyes blink open, bleary, “You see me? Don’t forget my face. You touch her again — and it’s the last thing you’ll see before the afterlife, got that?” 

“Yes,” the man slurs. 

“That’s my girl,” he jerks his head at you, “she’s mine and if you or any of your stupid friends or family see her, don’t talk or touch her, much less even look at her,” and his lips curl again, “or I promise my family and the Geto family will slaughter you — until there’s nothing left.” and he drops the man onto the ground, “let’s go,” he mutters, shaking the blood off his knuckles, before using the inside of his uniform jacket to wipe the rest off. 

“Your uniform, it's—” and he glances at the blood seeping into the fabric of his jacket and crisp shirt, and you’re digging through your bag, “I have my hand towel and some—” and he’s shaking his head. 

“I have a sweatshirt I can wear in my bag,” and he’s tugging off his uniform jacket and unbuttoning his shirt, and you can’t look away fast enough — not before seeing the tattoo littering his back. 

A large lion against his back, seemingly roaring, against a backdrop of bamboo, stared back at you, as your breath catches in your throat — he wasn’t just a spoiled heir, he was a real yakuza. And what he did to those men — his eyes met yours again, as he tugged the sweatshirt on, lips still in that ridiculous smile — it was likely the least of what he could really do to them. 

“Oh, sorry, guess I never told ya,” he pulls the orange sweatshirt down, pulling a pair of sunglasses on, and your horrified expression in the circular black rims stare back at you, “sorry for scaring you, sweetheart,” 

“You’re really—” you cut off, heart caught in your throat. Yeah, you had spent too much of your life surrounded by men covered in tattoos, but these two — their auras — were on another level that was simply — terrifying. 

“A yakuza?” he finishes, peering at you over the rim of his sunglasses, “Surprised it took you this long to figure out — thought you had that pieced together a while ago — what? I assume your family shielded you from that kind of violence — probably had guards on you 24/7 so no one would mess with you. Well you aren’t in Osaka anymore,” his fingers intertwined with yours, his larger hand engulfing yours as he tugs you along away from the alley, the faint groans of the men disappearing into the ambient noise of the city, “Stay close, princess.” 

And you flushed, biting your lip. There was a lot you didn’t know, but you knew you better learn — you spare one glance back at the alley — and quick. 

~~~

You both arrive back to the compound, as you’re funneled into a room, you get a glimpse of Suguru in an adjacent hallway, his clothes as bloodied as Satoru’s was, if not more. His dark eyes catch yours and his lips curl, as he holds his hand up as a greeting, mouthing, “Yo,” 

You’re shepherded away to sit, and soon enough, Satoru and Suguru join you, as you fidget in the middle of the room, the three of you sit on cushions, while another cushion directly in front of you. Your fingers can't help but toy with the ribbon on the front of your uniform — what if this was just a ruse to sell you off? Maybe they even found out about you selling your kidney? Anxiety swirled in your mind, dragging down your body to even the tips of your toes, your body buzzing and stinging with thoughts. 

“This really is just a talk to discuss the missing Yakuza heiress,” Suguru cuts through your thoughts, as you stare at him, slack jawed, and he only shrugs, leaning back against his hands flat on the floor, “you’re not hard to read, sweetheart,” 

“Besides, if we wanted to kill you, why not let you die in that alleyway?” Satoru chimes in, ever so helpful, as you glare at him, before his gaze slides to Suguru, “did you take care of that like I asked, Suguru?” and he nods, and before you can ask a question, the door slides open. 

Instead of the heads of the household, a yakuza comes in, sunglasses stare back at you, his dark brown hair slicked back, shaved on the sides of his head, as he stared down at the three of you, “The heads won’t be able to make it to this meeting — something has come up,” 

“Yaga, good to see you,” Suguru chirps, while Satoru only sighs, hands behind his head. 

“Glad to see you haven’t gotten yourself killed since you’ve been away, old man—“ and Satoru earns a fist to his head, “ow!” 

“Keep it up and you’ll get something worse than a whack to the head,” Yaga grumbles, taking his seat, “you must be the girl,” he eyes you up and down, “I’ll get straight to the point — the Akazawa heiress is missing. She’s assumed to be kidnapped,” he hands you a photo of her — shoulder length black hair, her eyes look past the camera, her head tilted downwards, but her hazel eyes pierce through the picture. 

“How long has she been gone?” Suguru asks, “any chance that she just ran off?” 

“There’s a chance she’s been sold off for a couple hundred thou,” Satoru remarks, crossing his arms, “people would pay a premium for a yakuza heiress,” and his eyes slide to you, and you glare back. 

“We don’t know — maybe she ran off, maybe she’s been sold, maybe there’ll be a ransom coming in at one point or another, or maybe she’s dead—” and you bite your lip, “but we can’t take the risk, especially since we have a similar heiress under our care now,” Yaga says, crossing his arms with a hefty sigh, “that being said, you’ll be staying at the compound until further notice— your things have already been brought here,“ you gape at him, mouth nearly hanging open, “and you’ll have Satoru or Suguru with you at all times — their schedules have been rearranged to have class with you,” 

“But—“ and Yaga shoots a look at you that silences your protests. 

“These orders came from the three heads, including your grandfather, would you like to defy them?” And your mouth clamps shut, your head falling. 

“No, sir,” Yaga rises, leaving, but not before ordering the two heirs to show you where you’ll be staying, “and any real threats to you appear, and your classes will be made online and you will remain under guard in the compound,” Yaga adds before disappearing behind another door. 

“It won’t be that bad, Princess,” Suguru grins, as they walk you to your room, “now we can really get to know each other before we’re married,” 

“Don’t you mean before we’re married?” Satoru says, as Suguru only smiles back at him. 

“I would rather not marry you, Satoru, dating you for a week was enough—“ and Satoru opens his mouth to reply. 

“I’m not marrying either of you,” you rub your head, feeling the beginnings of a headache creeping on your temples — you barely could make it through the day with enduring the amount of insanity these two already inflicted, you were sure you’d murder one or both of them if you had to spend 24/7 with them, “we should be keeping a low profile from now on, not going out—” 

“Except for the dates we have planned,” Satoru says, offering you the key to your room, and you unlock the door, stepping inside. 

“Especially not for those.” And you slam the door shut and lock it. 

Your eyes take in the boxes that surround you, full of the things from your apartment, and sigh. 

Fuck, this really was your life now, wasn’t it? 

~~~

“Why are you staring at me?” you can’t ignore Suguru’s stare in the subway, even when you refuse to meet it. The light from the windows flooded into the subway, flickering as the carts sped by, as the two of you hung onto the grab handles. Your usual peaceful ride to university was now impeded by Suguru who stood by your side, his eyes seemingly glued to you. 

“I see that your left side is slower to respond than your right,” and you shift under his gaze, “that’s why your bag is always on your left side, so you can spot a threat easier and have a stronger grip, smart,” 

You raise an eyebrow, “How did you figure that out?” 

He shrugs, “From observation — I also move a little slower on my left — I even blink slower,” and you face him, staring into his eyes, trying to notice any difference between the two eyes. The only thing you could see is how pretty they really were — dark and lidded, not as bright or striking as Satoru’s, but just as mysterious. 

“I can’t tell,” you tilt your head, and he only smiles. 

“There isn’t a difference, but I got you to stare into my eyes, didn’t I?” and you glower at him, your remark cut off by the influx of people flooding into the cart. Fuck, you never had seen it this full before. You forced yourself not to cringe under the tight quarters — you could handle this, it wasn’t a big deal, even as the people sandwiched themselves all around you, anxiety biting at your nerves. And then you’re knocked around by the crowd as the cart jerks, but then, Suguru is pulling you lightly so your back is pressed against a wall and he’s caging you in, his body protecting you. 

Your breath catches — he’s so close, “You don’t have to—” and your gazes meet again, your breath catching, your bag caught between your bodies. He’s nearly pressed against you, the heat from his form seeps into your own. And he smells good, despite the sticky heat of the summer lingering — something musky but sharp at the same time — what was that scent? 

“You seemed uncomfortable,” he says, his hand holding onto the grab handle above, “this seemed like the easiest solution, especially so I can protect you — it would be much easier to shield you with my body this way,” 

“Shut up,” you grumble, as he chuckles, before you’re sighing, “I’m not used to taking the subway — I used to have a car that took me back and forth,” you chew your lip, “I didn’t want you to think I couldn’t take care of myself,” 

“Makes sense to have you driven — as a yakuza heiress, they wanted precautions,” Suguru nods, his eyes sliding around the cart, “you never know,” 

“Is that why your eyes keep scanning the subway cart?” you raise an eyebrow. 

And his lips curl, “I did say I’d protect you with my life, didn’t I?” 

“Did you mean that?”

A chuckle escaped his lips, a noise that makes your breath catch, as the cart jerks again, pressing you both even closer, “I never say anything that I don’t mean, princess.” 

~~~

“Is following me around really necessary even after classes?” you hadn’t bothered to pull your usual disappearing act — it was counterproductive in multiple ways (the first being that either of them would find you and the second being you had to be glued to one of their sides at all times), “it’s not like someone is going jump from the shadows and kidnap me on campus.” 

“You don’t know that for sure, do you, princess?” Satoru drawls lazily, as he twirls his dinner knife around his fingers with a skill that said he’d done it a million times before — probably instead of doing the thing he was supposed to be doing, “a man comes up behind you while you’re studying or shopping, presses a weapon or gun to your side, just out of view, and he’s got the perfect hostage,” 

You raise an eyebrow, “You sound like you’ve done it before,” and the knife stops between his middle finger and pointer, the tip pointed at you, as he looks at you over the rim of his sunglasses. 

“Don’t get jealous, sweetheart, you’re the only girl I’d want to kidnap,” he leans forward and swipes a mochi from your plate — even though he had already ate his own — and you scoff, as you turn your attention back to your neglected dessert, choosing to use your brain cells to focus on your food instead of this psycho. 

“How lucky,” you mutter, as you stab your remaining mochi instead of your escort, “do the two of you have to take shifts like this? I’m surprised the two of you aren’t glued to my sides 24/7 together,” 

“We thought it was only fair the two of us split our time — and as much as I’d like to spend each and every hour with you, we both unfortunately have other responsibilities to tend to,” and he takes a bite of the mochi, “plus, this way, we get to spend time with you alone without the other interfering, and trust me, if I saw you with Suguru,” his lips curl, “I’d interfere,” 

“Well you don’t have to be worried about that, because I don’t plan on being with either one of you,” you reply, “I’m here to finish school and go home as soon as I can,” 

“You won’t be saying that once I make you fall for me,” 

You get to your feet, as you pull out your wallet — but Satoru waves you off, already pulling out his card for the waiter, “You’d have a better chance making me fall for you if you tripped me,” you roll your eyes, as you round the booth, and quick as a light, you trip right into his arms, your body bumping against his chest as his arms steady you. A hand tilts your face up to meet cerulean eyes filled with mirth, “did you trip—” 

And then you spot the chair leg you had tripped over oh-so-gratefully, “I don’t need to resort to those measures to make you fall for me, princess,” his finger traces your jaw with a featherlight touch, “I have plenty of other ways to do that,” 

You get to your feet properly and shove him away, as he chuckled, as you rolled your eyes, “Maybe in your twisted dreams, but—” And Satoru is tugging you away from the booth — a tight arm around you waist, as you stammer, “what the fuck are you—” 

“Guy’s been following you — just spotted him from a distance,” he murmurs, and your shoulders tense, resisting the urge to look back, “just keep walking with me, don’t worry,” his arm gently squeezed you, “won’t let anything happen to you, princess,” 

“Don’t call me that,” you murmur, as he leads you back inside the closest building, “where are we—” and he’s pulling out his phone, texting several people. 

“Getting us a ride in case I need to get you to safety, and letting Suguru know of the situation,” he offers you a small grin, “I could send you back, but that would be that and you will be on lockdown. Things might be getting a little more interesting from here — so it’s your choice, will you stay or go?” 

You considered your choices — you could run away from this, go back to the compound, but going back was a guarantee that you would be stuck 24/7 in the compound and stuck there for the remainder of your time here. And these two would take full advantage of that. Plus, your mind wandered to the girl who had been taken — you wanted to know more about what happened to her and why you were being targeted next. 

“Let’s go,” and his lips curl. The two of you round several street corners, Satoru’s arm remains tight around your waist, as he leads to a more and more secluded corner of the city, “is this the right move?” your hand wanders into your pocket, fingers around your collapsible pole. 

He sighs dramatically, “Do you have such little faith in me, sweetheart?” 

“Considering the two of you are insane, yes, I do,” and he clicks his tongue at you, “where—” 

And someone punches you, fist connecting with your left cheek as you stumble sideways into the wall of a nearby building. You hear the cock of a gun, your eyes catch sight of the weapon pointed at Satoru. You caught a glimpse as your eyes flicker open, several men stand behind him, all bearing weapons of some sort. 

Your ears ring, as you clutch at your head, as you struggle to get your balance, your vision in your left eye blurry from the impact,  “Come with me, and your girlfriend won’t have to watch you die,” you feel something warm run down your nose, and you touch it — scarlet stains your fingers. 

Fuck. 

Your eyes flicker back to where Satoru stands, eyes flickering to you, a shiver running down your spine at his hard gaze — not a hint of euphoria left — his lips a thin line, and his fists clenched, “I’ll fucking kill you,” his words leave in a whispered hiss, and quick as lightning, the gun is knocked from his fingers, and Satoru’s got him pinned down, fist winding back to punch his head in. The other men don’t hesitate to join the fray, just as Satoru doesn’t hesitate to take them down, blood spilling from their bodies as they fall one by one. 

You said you would be stronger — that you wouldn’t let this happen again. You weren’t some person who needed to be sheltered away. Your fingers clutched at the pole in your pocket, pulling it out, as you slowly uncollapsed it — you were a yakuza heir, just as much as these two were. 

One of them got up to shaky feet, lifting up his knife to stab Satoru from behind, “DIE!” and you slam into his side, hitting over the head with the pole — a grisly crack as the pole nearly snaps against his skull. 

“Fuck off and die!” the words leave your lips as you taste your own blood dripping from your nose. And you can feel Satoru turn to see you, eyes wide as he stares —  your words burn as much as your head hurts, as you wipe the blood from your nose. 

And the men are all down now, as Satoru walks over to you, and his fingers reach gently for your face, as he examines the blood dripping, “it’s just a nosebleed,” you say, and his gaze softens ever so slightly, before darkening, as a groan comes from the man that punched you. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” your heart flutters at his gentle touch, the calluses of his fingers against your cheek, as he pulls tissues from his pocket to wipe the blood from your nose. 

And his eyes linger on your face for a moment, before he turns to the culprit, fingers clenched tightly around the napkin soaked in your blood. 

He drags the man up by the collar, shaking him, a gurgled groan leaving his bloody lips, “You might want to go, sweetheart — I have to make sure I let this one die for ever laying a hand on my woman—“ and you clasp your hand on his shoulder, shaking your head. 

“He’s half dead already — you don’t need to finish the job,” and he pouts, shaking the man again for good measure. 

“You said he should die—“ 

You shrug, “People like this aren’t worth the trouble of killing. And you don’t need more problems on your hands — so if you’re doing this for me, don’t bother. Let’s just go,” 

And you see his lips slowly curl into a grin, as he pulls you into a hug, arms around you waist, as he runs his fingers through your hair gingerly, “I didn’t realize you cared, sweetheart,” and you frown, “don’t want me getting in more trouble, huh? If it’s for you, I’ll oblige, but you owe me one,” and his fingers slide under your chin. 

“Oi, is the party over without me?” A familiar voice calls, Suguru walks over, several other Yakuza in tow, his sleeves rolled up, as he takes a once over of the situation, seemingly uninterested in the scum, his eyes falling on you and Satoru, lingering on the blood that still was trickling from your nose. His eyes narrowed, “which one—” 

“It’s already taken care of, Suguru,” Satoru rubs the back of his head, “but for your information,” he kicks the one who had punched you in his side, forcing him to roll over, a slight groan escaping his lips, “that’s the one who hurt her,” 

Suguru nodded, stepping over the bodies as if it was nothing more than a spill that had been yet to be cleaned up, as his hand brushes over your chin softly, drawing close, a sharp gasp leaving your lips when his fingers decide to travel to your nose, “It’s not broken, just bleeding, but I should still get her checked out at the compound,” 

“You?” Satoru furrows his brow, “you’re going to leave me—” 

“To clean up your own mess? Yes, I am,” Suguru smiles, “because it’s my turn to keep watch,” as he shows his watch, already well past midnight, “and I should be getting her back to the compound,” the two glare at each other, a tension settling over the scene that you were far too done with. 

You sigh, stepping past both of them, walking over the bodies splayed out on the floor, “Let me know when you both decide,” you yawn, hands in your pockets now, “I need sleep,” and Suguru follows behind, and you don’t see him turn to smirk at Satoru. 

~~~~

You swore someone was watching you. 

A presence loomed over you, hovering slightly, as you shifted in your sleep, a sigh parting your lips as you turned, still caught between in realms of deep sleep as you drifted in and out, eyes fluttering open a moment, and caught sight of a shadow. 

No, it was nothing. It was nothing. And then you’d wake to sunlight filtering through your windows, eyes fluttering open, but you would still wake with the lingering touch of someone else against your face. 

But each morning you’d check the locks, and it would be locked, with no signs of tampering — and you’d be left wondering if it was a dream or not. 

It had been like this for the last week — you’d sense a presence, for a split second of what you thought was consciousness, and then it would be morning again. 

And finally, you decided to stay awake, a knife you had pilfered away from the kitchen under your pillow. You let your eyes drift shut, drifting in and out of a half sleep, until you hear it. 

The slow slide of the door opening, and the soft close of the door behind. The person takes nearly soundless steps towards you, before leaning above you and you feel the faint brush of hair against your skin, before leaning back with a quiet sigh. 

Suguru?

And his fingers slide through your hair softly. He watches over you, quietly, until you turn to face him, eyes open. 

“You know it’s really creepy to break into a woman’s room in the middle of the night,” and Suguru blinks, before his lips curl in a small smirk, “and it’s even weirder when you just sit there to watch her sleep,” 

“Just trying to make sure you’re safe, sweetheart,” 

“In a locked room?” And he shrugs. 

“I broke in easily,” and you scoff, as he rakes his own fingers through his hair, “who else would keep an eye on you?” 

You sit up, crossing your arms, “Surprised you and Satoru aren’t in here,” 

“We take turns,” and you stare at him, as he leans back against the wall, “all we do is keep watch princess — would you have let us in otherwise?” 

You open and shut your mouth, before you find words again amidst the haze of frustration, “I’m not so fucking helpless that you both need to sit here and watch me sleep,”

“We have been doing this since the threats began nearly and you only noticed recently,” he points out, his eyes catching the faint light of the moon, as cautious and patient as Suguru was — his expression as indiscernible as a new moon was, “and it’s only because Satoru had gotten sloppy,” he shrugs. 

You rub at your temples, “you’re not the only one who is a yakuza—“ 

Suguru tilts his head, “Princess, you don’t know what it means to be one — not even your fingers have never been bloodied, and it should stay that way—“ 

Your fingers close around the handle of the knife as you lunge at him — you snapped. You were tired — tired of the men in your life running your life — your grandfather, these yakuza heads, and these two idiots — all of them treating you as if you were spineless. 

And you weren’t. 

His hand darts out — and it happens quickly. The knife clatters against the hardwood, and he’s pinned you underneath him. 

You glare, embarrassment licks at your cheeks like flames — you had placed your fingers on the stovetop and what were you expecting other than to get burned? You can’t meet his gaze, and you’re expecting another lecture or sanctimonious attitude, but instead, his fingers skim your cheek, “You should pick your battles wisely, sweetheart — because not all of them will let you off the hook,” and he leans close, breath warming your lips, as your eyes can’t help but squeeze shut. 

Only to wince after a sharp flick to your forehead. 

And his weight leaves you at once, your head turning to find him examining the knife you had stolen, “You should also choose a better weapon than a kitchen knife — especially one as dull as this one,” 

You scowl at him, “Well, how else will I defend myself?” 

And he smiles, shrugging, “Isn’t it simple? Use the weapons already at your disposal,” 

Your brow knots together, “What weapons?” And his hand is sliding the door open, as he casts one more glance over his shoulder, lips curled in that insufferable smile. 

“The ones sworn to you.” 

~~~~ 

“You’re staying home tomorrow from class,” the thermometer is plucked from between your lips, the white haired yakuza scrutinizing your room, cerulean eyes catching the pile of tissues you had failed to stuff properly in your trash bin, “how long have you had this, Princess?” 

You lay bedridden and pouting as you draw the covers over your face — you had not been feeling well this whole weekend, but you developed a fever last night. You thought it would be gone by the morning, “Just since this morning,” and he’s tugging the covers away, his brow wrinkled, and then you see it, bandages on his forehead, “when did you get hit on the head?” 

And he blink, fingers running through his hair, “This? It’s nothing,” and you raise an eyebrow, “if you must know, it’s just my punishment for taking you into the thick of things the other day,” 

Your brow wrinkles, “Who—“ 

He waves you off, “It’s not important — the important thing is that you get better — can’t have my future wife succumbing to the flu, now can I?” And you scoff. 

“I’m not your future wife,” you mumble, and you hear a small chuckle from him. And then your muscles begin to grow heavy, eyelids fluttering shut under the weight of exhaustion, and your skin feeling far too cold for your burning insides, “Gojo, I’m not—“ 

And you slip into darkness. 

You can feel the world around you move, the sounds of wind brushing against your skin, and the flicker of lights in your eyes. Your lips part, a desert inside your mouth with no oasis in sight, “where—“

A voice quietly shushes you, fingers raking through your hair gently, lulling you back to sleep. Was it your grandfather? No, he never coddled you like this. Not even he had his yakuza to look after. You were expected to care for yourself —- you couldn’t show weakness. 

Not as an heir — even if you were just a kid. 

And when you do wake for a moment, it’s with some prodding, a voice whispering for you to open your mouth at the press of a medicine cap to your lips, and your eyes flutter open to catch a glimpse of blue eyes — so you do, swallowing it with water. 

You fall into the arms of sleep again, only waking to your head slightly aching, and a distinct void in your stomach. You reach around blindly for your phone, and find that it’s still Sunday, nearly the evening. Your eyes adjust as your gaze spots the last glimmers of the sunset in the window. 

How long have you slept? Like four hours? You sighed, slumping back into bed, as you stretched. Your fingers pressed to your forehead, still a slight fever, but it was definitely lower. Maybe you could sleep for a bit longer, and you turn on your side only to find a familiar, not-so familiar sight. Your lips can’t help but curl a little. Again there is someone in your room, but instead as your eyes flutter open you see that Satoru has dozed off.

You hold back a chuckle, as you slowly get up, drawing a little closer. His head was against the wall, slightly tilted, soft breaths leaving his lips, arms crossed. He had a prescription medicine next to him along with a water bottle. Your fingers reach for the medicine, and you glance it over — seeing that it was prescribed earlier today for you. 

Your brows knit together, when did you—and then it comes back to you slowly — the lights, the sound of wind and cars — he drove you to a hospital. And his shoulder starts to slip 

And then you reach for him, trying to make sure he didn’t hurt himself. 

That’s when he grabs you — his eyes fly open, as he grabs you by the wrist, pulling you close, his hard topaz gaze cuts through you, until it slowly fills with recognition. His fingers digging into your wrist loosen ever so slightly, as he blinks. 

“Sorry about that, sweetheart,” but his fingers don’t leave your wrist, “are you feeling better?” 

“I am,” you admit, as his other hand reaches up to brush against your forehead and then neck, sending hest crawling up your skin for a different reason. 

“Looks like the medicine worked,” he sighs, leaning back, “guess I can scratch beating up that doctor off my list,” and you furrow your brow, “it was a joke, Princess,” 

“Why did you take me?” You asked and he tilted his head, “I mean you could have had me looked at here, so why did you—“ 

“As much as my father pays for these services, they don’t work weekends, usually — we do have an on-call physician, but,” he shrugs, as his thumb brushed back and forth against your wrist, right where your pulse was, “I didn’t want to wait,” 

And your eyes slide to the bandages around his head, “but you couldn’t get that checked out?” 

“Worried about me? I’m touched, Princess,” and your fingers reach for the bandages and brush against his locks, “hey, you—“ 

“It’s coming loose,” you lean over and slide your hands until you find where it’s coming undone and tie it tighter, fingers brushing against his soft locks — noting the undercut you hadn’t noticed before, “there,” 

“Thank you,” he murmurs, as your eyes meet his and your breath catches, your face an inch or two from his. And he looks different in the dark of the room, illuminated by the last vestiges of sun that were quickly fading into the night — softer. 

“Why did you take care of me?” And he blinks a moment, taken aback and he tilts his head, “someone else could have—“ 

“I wanted to,” he cuts you off gently, “why would I let someone else do it when I could? It was the least I could do,” and it was your turn to tilt your head, as he adds in a whisper, “I let you get hurt. I should have sent you home,” 

“If you had tried, I would have stayed anyway,” and he chuckles. 

“I know,” he murmurs, “and I know what it’s like to tough through things as if you’re invincible — as if nothing can touch you — and it’s only a matter of time until it does,” and your fingers brush against the bandages on his head, as you dare closer, less than a breath away. 

“Maybe I should make you take your own advice,” you whisper, and his lips quirk upwards in a smirk. 

“I’d love to see you try, Princess,” he adds with a grin, “you know I’d love to submit to you anyti—“ 

And you swallow the rest of his sentence with your lips, a chaste brush that leaves your entire body burning for more — a spark to kindling that you told yourself you wouldn’t start. But, your lips part his to see his soft gaze meeting your own, before finding your lips again, how could you not? 

“I’m going to get you sick,” you manage between kisses, lips meeting and parting, as he chuckles against you, a vibration sending a shiver that definitely wasn’t from your fever.

“You’re worth it, Princess,” but he kisses you one last time, noses brushing, before your stomach rumbles loudly in the relative silence of both of your soft pants. You flush, and he can’t hold back his laugh, as you smack his shoulder.  

“Shut up, I haven’t eaten since breakfast, thanks to someone,” and he’s still laughing as you try to smack him again, but he catches you by the wrist. 

“Don’t forget, I really like it when you punish me,” his lips press to your wrist, your breath catching for a moment before you hit him again on the chest regardless. And he laughs, leaning on his hand, “oh what will I do with you, sweetheart?” 

You scowl at him, rolling your eyes, “You can start by getting me dinner,” you grumble, and he repents, getting to his feet, “Satoru?” And he pauses, eyes flickering back, “thank you,” you manage, biting your lip all the whole, unable to meet his eyes or see the smile on his lips. 

“Anytime, Princess.” 

~~~~

You hadn’t seen Suguru or Satoru all week. 

Once a sought after rarity l, but now a foreboding concern. Satoru had been away on business — you didn’t care to know what, but you knew he’d come back only more clingy than ever. You chewed on your lip — especially after the kiss. 

Fuck. You kissed Satoru, you buried your face in your hands, what the fuck were you doing? Could you use the excuse that your fever had rendered you momentarily insane? No, Satoru would only crack a joke saying that he’s crazy for you too. 

What was your plan? You were only trying to bide your time for a year — not become further entangled 

You lay back on your bed, as you scroll through your phone — but Suguru was a different story. You heard from Satoru that he had returned. Yet now there was some random yakuza checking in each hour  — and even worse, keeping you confined to the compound. 

And a small part of you did worry for them as you tossed your phone aside — those fools may have death wishes but that didn’t mean you wished the same. 

You leave your room, sighing as you explore the compound. You had done your fair share of exploring, but you had never wandered into Suguru or Satoru’s quarters. You had been told by each of them where their rooms were, only for you to glare at them for providing you the implication. But now…maybe it was useful. 

You walked through the halls — seemed like most people were away at the moment. When Satoru had captured those people who had attacked you both, there was information learned about who was targeting you and of where that girl who was taken could possibly be. But it’s not like you were able to find that information out — unless you went looking yourself. 

Satoru and Suguru’s rooms were close to each other’s — but Satoru’s room was locked, as you tugged at the door to no avail. You glared at the handle as if it was the white haired idiot itself, before turning to Suguru’s door. 

You pressed your ear to the door, it was silent, not a single noise inside. You pull at the door and it opens. You step inside — the room is neat, a desk in the corner, along with a bed on the opposite side, but not much else. There were a few other things — a dresser with a few containers tucked beside it and a small bookcase against the wall near the desk lined with books on each shelf. 

It wasn’t what you expected — though you didn’t know what to expect. You stepped into the room, glancing around, as you approached the desk first. You rifle through the papers, finding nothing relevant — only papers from class and a few scattered notes that had nothing but addresses and initials scribbled. 

And then the door opens, you freeze, before you slowly turn to see Suguru, his clothes tattered, blood dripping from his arms and soaked through his white button up. His gaze is dark and heavy, until he finds your eyes, his brow wrinkled. 

“What are you doing?” no ‘sweetheart’ or ‘Princess’ — just a question. 

“I was looking—“ but you bite your lips, as you watch his shoulders slump, “what happened—“ 

And he draws closer, as you slowly take steps back, until he’s looming over you, his arm pressed above you, “Princess, you shouldn’t get involved in these things, unless you want to end up like this,” and the smell of death rolls off of him, the heaviness of his gaze could drag you down to the depths of hell — but you didn’t care. 

“Sit down,” and he blinks, before you’re pressing him onto the bed, “I’m going to get a first aid kit and some bandages,” 

“Sweetheart—“ but you’re already out of the room, returning with a first aid kit and bandages, “where did you—“ 

“Well after that first time Satoru and I got jumped by those people, I figured it would be good to stock up on things,” you pull out scissors and tape, and you dampen a washcloth you had stored in the kit with a water bottle you had grabbed. “Take off your shirt,” he hesitates, “getting shy?” 

Suguru’s lips curl, before he sighs, unbuttoning his shirt, “You know I rather you hurt me than take care of me,” and you scoff, as you busy yourself with preparing the materials to tend to him. 

“Well it looks like someone else already did that for you,” and your eyes meet with his bare chest, the red and black ink of his tattoos encroached onto his shoulders, but more than that — bruises bloomed on different parts of his body, scars from old wounds of various ages littered his skin, and dried and fresh scarlet clung to his skin from fresh cuts. 

You take the washcloth, slowly starting to run it over his body, the white cloth marred with his blood, he doesn’t flinch even as it cleans his cuts or wounds.  

“Why are you doing this?” And your eyes meet his, his amethyst eyes cut through you. 

“Because you’re hurt,” 

“Just because I’m hurt doesn’t mean you have to help,” you sigh, as you urge him to turn so you can clean his back next, the sight of his tattoo on his back unsurprising now as you continue to clean it. 

“Doesn’t mean you don’t have to either,” he gives a soft chuckle, “what’s your goal here sweetheart?” You urge him to turn again, as you begin to clean the blood from his arms. 

“Do I need to have a goal?” And he turns to face you, leaning even closer, as his black locks fall in his eyes. 

“Everyone has one — didn’t you have one for coming in here?” And your hesitation is all the answers he needs, “curious about what’s going on with those people after you, huh?” 

There wasn’t any use lying now, “Wouldn’t you be?” 

“I would be, but I wouldn’t get caught, now would I?” and you scoff, as his lips curl, “we have been tracking the group that we suspect has the heiress, and we have been interrogating the people that you and Satoru secured,” ‘secured’ — more like nearly murdered by the way Satoru acted. 

“And where were you?” 

He sighed, “Dealing with some loose ends — and some other business that my father had me deal with,” and he adds, “I had to make sure a message got out — so no one would ever attack you like that again,”

And why does your heart squeeze at the thought, “Why are you so willing to tell me?” And your hands begin to clean and wipe his palms. And you set the washcloth down, beginning to bandage some of the larger cuts and wounds, and his fingers intertwined with yours, as you glance up. 

“Because you deserve the truth,” he shrugs, “and even if I lie, you’ll figure it out, so why not tell you to begin with?” And he leans even closer, fingers skimming your cheek, “plus I don’t keep secrets from my future wife,” 

“I’m not marrying you,” but you don’t pull away, as he’s even closer now. 

“Well, you said never before — and I’ve worn you down to a ‘not’ — it’s only a matter of time,” and his words make you want you to pull away, to scoff at his words and leave, but you don’t. 

Why can’t you? 

“And I thought Satoru was the one full of himself—“ and his lips find yours, his kiss was more insistent, his fingers find your jaw, featherlight before it finds purchase on the back of your neck. You could taste the faint taste of blood, lingering on his lips, 

“And you also thought Satoru was a good kisser,” he smirks, as his lips ghost down your jaw, nose brushing against your cheek, as you pause — how did he— “well now you know what a good kisser is actually like,” 

Your eyebrows knit together, “Geto—” 

“Suguru,” he corrects you, he tilts his head, his thumb cupping your chin, and your lips find the other’s, his forehead pressed to yours. Then his phone rings, and the moment’s broken. He pulls away just as fast, as he turns to answer his phone, “Hello?” he listens, a man’s voice on the other end, “I understand, okay.” and the call ends, as he offers a smile to you, “I have to deal with some business, but I’ll be back later. And then it looks like I’ll be your escort while Satoru is away.” 

“What business—” but he’s brushing past you, going to his wardrobe to grab a fresh shirt, buttoning it swiftly, before pulling on another jacket, as he turns to glance at you over his shoulder. 

“You know better than to ask me that,”

“But you said you would be honest,” and he shrugs his shoulders, a smirk on his lips, as he heads out of the room. 

“I didn’t say when.” 

~~~~

“We have to tell her,” Satoru stood, hands in his pockets, leaning against the wall of the compound. Suguru clicks his lighter again, flicking it on and off — he had quit a few months ago when you had told him that you hated the smell. And he didn’t miss it, but he still carried the lighter — old habits die hard, “the pictures we got — they are getting better at tracking her without us noticing. And these other fires we’re being sent out to deal with — it’s leaving us with less time to protect her,”

“Do you have to?” Suguru asked, flicking his lighter closer, the silver outside glinting in the low light of the moon, “isn’t it safer for her to stay in the dark for now?” 

“Staying in the dark doesn’t mean she won’t put herself in danger one way or another without us knowing,” Satoru shrugs, “she said even if I had sent her home that day that those men were after her, she would have came after me,” 

Suguru gives a terse chuckle, “I don’t doubt that she would,” he sighs, gaze towards the inky darkness of the sky, dotted with faint stars that he couldn’t see but knew were there — just as these threats were, “if she found out that her grandfather was threatened too? There’s no way she would wait,” 

“So what do we do?” Satoru scratched the back of his head, “we could send her back home — she might be safer there than here,” 

“Her grandfather told us—“ 

“I know, but what choice do we have, Suguru?” he sighs, and Suguru can’t help but quirk his lips. 

“You know if we do this, we may have to fight her grandfather to stay engaged with her,” And Satoru smiles, shrugging. 

“I know, but we can handle it, can’t we?” Satoru leans back, “we’ll just have to fight him on it. Why? Are you afraid?”  

Suguru gives a short chuckle, “Since when have you known me to be afraid of anything?” And he turns his gaze towards the door, “so when should we tell her?” 

But they don’t notice that you’re pressed against the door, your fists clenched. And they were right about one thing — you wouldn’t wait. 

~~~~

CRACK! 

Fuck, your eyes burned as you tried to open them, the sharp pain in the back of your head radiating all over, as your eyelids refused to open. What happened? You tried to hold your head, only to have your wrists strain against something rough — rope? The fibers dig into your wrists as you try to stand, only to find them bound to something else. 

“Finally awake?” it was a woman’s voice — and your eyes still can’t quite open — fuck, this wasn’t part of your plan, “take your time, they said they wanted you in pristine condition so I can’t have you falling apart on me later on,” she scoffs, her footsteps receding away, and you could hear the quiet murmurs of other voices — men, by the baritone. 

Your eyes burned as you adjusted to opening them, still fighting the urge to flutter them shut under the pain. The dim light swung overhead, a warehouse from the bare floors and even barer walls and ceilings overhead, barely illuminated in the flickering exposed lightbulbs hanging over the middle of the room. 

“Where am I?” You choked out, voice wavering in a way that made you want to grit your teeth and chide yourself for the fear that seeped into your words. 

The quiet click of heels came closer, “Don’t recognize me? Well I suppose you never did see my face in person,” and you knit your brows together as she stepped closer, leaning in far too near for your comfort, “I should thank you for your efforts in trying to find out what happened to me. It made it far easier to kidnap you,” 

Her hazel eyes were even more startling in person. 

“The Akawaza heiress,” you stare at her — her hair had grown a little past her shoulders now, ends slightly curling at them, “I thought—“ 

“I was missing? I was,” her lips curled, running her sharp lacquered nails through her black locks, “but it was my choice,” the screech of chair legs scraping against the floor makes you flinch ever so slightly, as she sits in front of you, her legs crossed, “I’m being rude — how is your grandfather?” 

“Fuck off,” you spit, and she clicks her tongue. 

“And here I thought you had manners, but I suppose the city’s changed you, little princess?” she hums, leaning back, wood of the chair creaking as she did, “or maybe your boyfriends did,” you say nothing, scoffing, as she sighs, “or knowing your grandfather, you probably didn’t have any to begin with,” 

Rage fills your veins, lava bursting from them as the venom leaves your lips, “Don’t talk about my grandfather like that—” 

“Why shouldn’t I? You never cared for the yakuza before, right? Is your grandfather not included in that equation? Or maybe it was because he kept what he did behind closed doors, and never bothered to tell you the truth,” and you’re not fast enough to stop your brow from furrowing, and she latches onto it, “Oh he didn’t tell you, did he?” 

“You really love the sound of your own voice, don’t you?” you murmur, and she laughs at your remark, her nails clicking against the forearm of the chair — lacquer on wood that began to grate on your nerves, “can you get to the point of all this shit? Why the fuck am I here?” 

“Because your grandfather is picking and choosing who he favors — and so I decided to take his heart, and I’ll only give her back if he gives me what I want — ” and then you see the way her lips curl and her jaw is cut, and it occurs to you. 

Your grandfather had said he was a heartbreaker. 

“You’re his granddaughter,” and she smirks, her nails falling still. 

“Do you see the family resemblance?” she leans against her hand, elbow against the arm of her chair, “it would be nice to meet you — if I didn’t have to possibly kill you,” 

“So you want to be the heiress? I never wanted to be one in the first place—” 

“Do you think that matters?” she scoffs, “what matters is the choice your grandfather makes —  and he’s chosen you — with no regard for the other children he has had,” her gaze falls downward, “do you know what it is like to watch your mother vye for the approval of someone who never truly cared for her in the first place?” 

Your gaze falls downward, “I don’t know,” you admit, “but is all this worth this? What do you think he will even do for me?” 

“He’ll meet my demands, and each hour he doesn’t, he’ll get another finger of yours,” she pulls a knife out, the blade glinting in the dim light, as she rises to her feet, your body straining back as she draws close to you, running the flat of the blade down your cheek, “should I start with your left hand or right?” she pulls the blade back, and you smile, “what—” 

And you lean your head back and smash your head against her own. The crack of your skulls colliding rung in your ears, along with the knife clattering to the ground, as you felt warm droplets ran down your face, and she stumbles back, clutching at her forehead, scarlet staining her face and fingers, “It’s funny you think that I came to you without a plan — how do you think I found you?” 

“It wasn’t on her own,” and a hand on her shoulder, before she’s pinned to the floor. Satoru’s eyes slide to you, a smile on his lips, as she’s struggling, trying to look for her men, “looking for your goons? Suguru has taken care of them by now, unless he needs my help,” 

“Akari isn’t the only one who likes to hear herself talk,” Suguru runs his fingers through his hair, “Satoru, you haven’t even untied her,” his footsteps echoing as he approaches you, bending down to pick up Akari’s knife. 

“A little busy at the moment, Suguru,” Gojo has Akari pinned with one hand, “unless you’d like her to get away,” and Suguru shrugs, as he slips the knife under your restraints and cuts them off, “are you doing alright, sweetheart?” 

“I’m fine, just my head’s aching,” and Suguru pulls a cloth from his pocket, wiping the blood from your face, your eyes closing and nose wrinkling as he does, “did you call my grandfather?” 

“Yeah, I don’t have a death wish,” Satoru replies as he hauls Akari up and hands her off to his associate to take her. 

You get to shaky feet, “Hold on,” you walk over, grabbing Akari by the front of her blouse, silk wrinkling under your grasp, “fuck with me or my family again, and I won’t be so lenient,” you shove her off, and then you add, “but I’ll talk to my grandfather about some sort of possible arrangement for your mother,” 

And then you wave the yakuza off and they take her away — assuredly to Kyoto to be dealt with by her grandfather. 

“Are you really going to talk to your grandfather about her?” Suguru asks, raising an eyebrow. 

“It’s the least he could do since he caused me to be targeted,” you grumble, rubbing your wrists, as Satoru takes his suit coat off and places it around your shoulders, before a smirk pulls at your lips. 

Suguru tilts his head, smiling, “Well, how would he feel if he knew you got kidnapped on purpose?” And you shrug. 

“He doesn’t need to know that.” 

~~~

“I’m surprised you guys agreed to my plan,” you hiss as Satoru takes a damp cloth to clean the dried blood from your face, while Suguru is knelt, bandaging your ankles — their rough and bruised hands somehow still gentle, “I thought you would never let me wander into danger,” 

“Well, we knew we had to do something when we realized you were listening to us, didn’t we, Princess?” Satoru snorted, and you could hear the smile gracing his features — even with your eyes shut — “and this was the best way to ensure you weren’t hurt,” 

“Relatively,” Suguru adds, as he finishes bandaging one ankle, “did she do anything else to you?” 

And Satoru’s hand pauses as they both wait for your answer, and you shake your head, “No,” and Satoru pulls the washcloth away, your eyes fluttering open to meet two skeptical gazes, “really, I’m fine,” your lips curl after the two of them look away, Satoru turning to grab a bag of ice for your forehead, while Suguru busied himself with bandaging your other ankle, “is this threat the reason my grandfather sent me to Tokyo?” 

The timing had lined up — Akari had started the threats not a few months before — after she had reached legal age, the perfect age to contend for the position of successor to her grandfather. And by sending you here, your grandfather thought he was putting you out of immediate danger — but he didn’t know Akari would make her way to Tokyo. 

“More or less,” Satoru sighed, as you flinched when he pressed the ice pack to your head, the condensation from the bag already clinging and dripping down your face, “the geezer wanted to find the source of the threats against you—and by sending you here, to your potential fiancés—“ 

“I would be safe protected twofold by two of the biggest families—“ and you blink, pulling the ice pack away from your face, “the engagements — that’s why they were leaked — it was to protect me,” you mumble, “so that means—“ 

“You can go home if you want, Princess,” Suguru says, looking up at you, expression as inscrutable as it always was, “the engagements were only pretense,” 

“You both knew?” And Satoru sighs, scratching the back of his head, and why does it feel as if his nails are carving out a piece of your heart. 

“The old coot swore us to secrecy, we didn’t have—“ 

“But, everything, the two of you…the engagement—it’s over,” you say slowly, gaze falling downward. You should be happy, relieved, thrilled — you could go home, what you wanted to do from the start. You could get your own apartment or transfer to a different university—and leave this behind, a bad dream washed away by the events of a new day. So why? 

Why did it hurt? 

“Don’t tell me you’ll actually miss us, sweetheart?” Satoru teased, a force more than anything — bittersweet worded coated in a sugary sarcasm, “because I very well may propose here and now,” 

You almost scoff, but Suguru beats you to it. 

“A proposal now? Seems like finishing early isn’t what you just do in bed, Satoru,” Suguru scoffs, as Satoru shoots a glare over his sunglasses, “she’s only eager to get home now isn’t she? "If she isn’t so eager,” he adds, “then she would stop the one she wants from leaving her room, wouldn’t she?” 

And Suguru is slowly getting to his feet, while Satoru also turns to leave — and you don’t think—but you were sure that you truly hadn’t thought a single sane thought since you had arrived in Tokyo—

You grab at the fabric of both their shirts, fingers clutching at it, as your lips curled when they glanced back at you. 

“Who said either of you could leave?”

~~~

“You’re going to have to use your words,” you murmured, fingers ghosting Satoru’s jaw, a delightful shiver parting his lips as you smiled at him, sat spread at the edge of your bed, “what do you want?” You stepped closer, between his legs, daring even closer. 

“Sweetheart, you know what I—“ and a low groan leaves his throat as your fingers slide to the nape of his neck to tug at his snowy locks, “please—“ 

“I know you love this,” you murmur, leaning to press a kiss to his throat, smiling against his skin, “you said you wanted me to hurt you, so it looks like you’re getting your wish,” your eyes slide to the other, sat in a chair, “I know you like to watch, Suguru, so you must be enjoying yourself,” and you’re further unbuttoning Satoru’s shirt all the same — crisp white button up definitely creased and wrinkled as it fell open, tugged out from his slacks. 

Suguru’s fingers flexed against the grain of the wood of the armrests, his muscles taut, his lips a tight line that only matched the fabric of his slacks straining against his erection. The corner of his mouth twitches, and you smirk. 

“I didn’t hear an answer, Suguru,” and you’re placing another kiss on Satoru’s neck, a whine leaving his throat, while your eyes find Suguru’s amethyst gaze darkened to nearly black, his knuckles white against the wood, as you lean down to lick a stripe up Satoru’s neck, who bites his bottom lip. 

“I’d enjoy it even more if I could touch you, or me,” Suguru adds through gritted teeth, “Princess—“ 

And you click your tongue, “You had such patience when you were watching me sleep — so where’s that patience now?” Your fingers graze Satoru’s erection through his slacks, and his head is falling back, as Suguru shifts in his seat, not so subtly adjusting himself. 

You undo Satoru’s belt, unbuckling it with ease, as his cock slaps against his stomach, and you didn’t know it was possible for a dick to be pretty, but Satoru’s was — a deep flush settled over it, pearly beads of precum dripping from the ruby tip. And a distinct heat begins to throb between your thighs. 

“You can touch yourself,” you tell Suguru, his legs twitching to get up, “but you can’t cum until I tell you can,” you run a finger up Satoru’s cock, teasing the weeping tip, a groan leaving the snowy haired man’s lips, “strip, Suguru,” 

And he does, you hear the click of his belt, the sound of fabric rustling, as your fingers tease the slit of Satoru’s cock, gathering precum on your fingers, drawing a grunt from his lips. You can hear the distinct sound of Suguru spitting in his palm, his hand beginning to work at his own cock. 

“Both s’good for me,” you murmur, as you stroke Satoru’s cock in earnest, the quiet moans from both their mouths sending a ribbon of need to your already dripping cunt, “can’t wait to fuck you both, make you my toys,” and you’re pressing a kiss to Satoru’s tip, his pretty, pink lips parting, as his head rolls back again, “but you’d both like that wouldn’t you? Maybe I shouldn’t let either of you cum, make you beg me all night,” as your tongue traces his lovely vein up the side of his cock, “what do you think, Toru?” And your mouth finally closes around his dick, sucking hard that draws a hiss from his lips, fingers fisted in the sheets. 

And Suguru isn’t doing much better, the sounds of his hand squelching and the moans leaving his lips growing louder and louder. 

“Please, Princess, I’m close, I can’t—“ and you click your tongue, a pout on your lips, as you pull away your touch, “baby, I—“ 

“Can’t let either of you cum so fast,” your eyes slide to Suguru, his cheeks flushed a lovely pink that reaches even his ears, as his hand slows, his cock twitching in his fingers, “gotta make you earn it. It’s only right after all the shit you put me through right?” 

It’s a cycle, a cycle of you bringing them both to the edge of orgasm, only to tell them to stop. Their sweat slicked brows wrinkled, as you worked them up once again and again and again — you had lost track of how many times. 

“Please, please, sweetheart,” and you knew you could get Satoru to beg, but you didn’t think it would be this easy, and you let his dick brush against your throat, as you let him fuck your throat, hips jerking, “fuuuuck, I need to—” 

And you’re pulling your lips from his cock with a pop, glancing at Suguru whose black locks are beginning to come loose from their neat bun, more of a mess now than he had been fighting yakuza earlier, and all because of you. 

“Suguru? Wanna cum?” you ask, smirking as his gaze raises to meet yours, a desperate look that tells you everything you need to know, “be a good boy and tell me,” 

He swallows, adam’s apple bobbing, as pre drips down his knuckles, “fuck, Princess,” he’s shaking his head, “ I want to cum, please — I need—” 

And your lips curl, “cum for me,” you murmur before you’re wrapping your lips around Satoru again, his tip brushing against your throat, sucking hard, his fingers finding purchase in your hair. And he’s cumming hard, his hot release slides down your throat, nails digging into your scalp, nearly never ending — even as you pull away, his cum paints your face and lips, and drips onto your clothes. His cerulean eyes glazed as he looked down at you between his legs, a string of spit and cum connecting you to his cock. 

And Suguru was no better. He had cum hard all over his hand and the floor, his cock still somehow half hard, his body slumped back in the chair, as his chest heaved. His hair tie had long fallen away, his long black locks brushing against his shoulders. 

You lick your lips clean of Satoru’s cum, wiping the rest away with the back of your hand, “Made such a mess,” you tsk, as you get to your feet, slipping off your shorts and shirt, before leaning down to kiss Satoru, and he’s still sensitive by the way he jolts against your touch, before melting into it, his tongue parted your lips with ease. And fuck, you hoped he couldn’t see how wet you were — nearly dripping down your thighs at this point. 

And you’re pulling away, your thumb dragging down his lips, as his teeth try to catch the finger between them, but you’re too quick. You turn, a smile on your lips, you make your way over to Suguru. 

You’re wiping up the mess on the floor with your shirt before kneeling, “made such a mess, Sugu,” and he’s staring at you through half lidded eyes, his fingers brushing your cheek, “did I say you could touch me?” 

“You never said I couldn’t,” he murmurs, and god, his voice is far gone, raw and nearly guttural, as his fingers found purchase in your hair, “and I think I earned it after your little performance—“ and he hisses when you lean in, tip of your tongue teasing his slit and licking the dripping cum off his half hard cock, “fuck—“ 

“Not yet,” you smiled, as you started to lick his cock clean of his cum, “but maybe if you’re good,” he grunts as you sink is cock into your mouth, tongue swirling around his length, licking and sucking — and fuck, he was already twitching in your mouth. 

And then he’s easing you off his dick with a tug of your hair, and you’re glancing up at him, a question on the tip of your tongue, but he’s swallowing it with a kiss, as his hands slip down your body to haul you nearly into his lap. Calloused palms find their way to your hips, squeezing lightly, as he pulls away, cupping your chin with his thumb. 

“Suguru—” and you yelp as he picks you up with ease, placing you in Satoru’s lap whose hands wind their way around your waist, his fingers already beginning to tease your hardened buds through your bra, a gasp leaving your lips, as Suguru placed his on your neck with a smirk as he murmurs:

 “Let me show you how good we can be, sweetheart.” 

~~~~

“Tell us what you want, princess,” Satoru murmured in your ear, his warm breath doing nothing to help the needy heat between your thighs, the one that Suguru was knelt between, his large palms spreading you before him, “is she as wet as I think, Suguru?” 

And Suguru catches your gaze, a wicked smile on his lips as he replies, “Wetter, she’s a mess, aren’t you?” you bite your lip to stop a whimper from leaving your lips as his fingers graze the growing wet patch on your panties. And your squirming only makes Satoru grunt, his erection pressed against you, the friction doing little to help either of you. 

“Fuckers,” and Satoru clicks his tongue, a smile on his lips as he turns your head. 

“Think I have a better use for that mouth of yours, sweetheart,” and his lips find yours, right as Suguru toys with the elastic of your panties, snapping it against your skin, Satoru swallows the small noise that escapes your lips, his tongue slipping into your mouth as it does. 

And god, you already can’t even think straight. 

Satoru’s fingers are pushing up your bra, teasing your nipples, as Suguru pressing a kiss to your dripping cunt through your soaked underwear. 

“So pretty,” Suguru murmurs, and Satoru’s lips part from yours, gaze darkening as he drags his thumb down your kiss ruined lips, and he tugs your drenched panties down, “and your cunt is even prettier, isn’t it princess?” 

And you were — your gorgeous pussy was glossy with your pre, dripping all over his fingers when he parts your messy folds, “Bet she’s even tighter, isn’t she?” Satoru murmurs, as his dick twitches against your ass, “

You whine as his words warm your aching pussy, your eyes flickering downwards, as Suguru’s lips graze your inner thigh, and you already know Satoru’s pouting. 

“You’re taking your goddamn time, Suguru, when do I get my chance?” He grumbles, nose brushing against your neck, as you can’t help but chuckle. 

“You got your turn, and now it’s time for you to watch,” and your giggle turns to a soft gasp when his lips press a kiss to your clit, “and sweetheart, can’t wait to see how you’ll punish me for this later — because I’m not stopping until you beg me to,”

Your lips part with a reply, but he pulls a moan from your lips instead as his tongue drags up the length of your weeping entrance. God, fuck, how did you taste this good? His tongue flicked against your puffy clit, drawing lazy circles, your slick already drenching his chin and lips. 

“So fucking good, baby, s’good f’me,” and your fingers are threading their way into his dark locks, pulling him even closer, his lips closing around your clit to suck, “could live in this pretty cunt,” he grunts, the tip of his tongue teasing your entrance. 

Your head falls against Satoru’s shoulders, a groan fell from his lips as his cock dragged against your ass, your slick drenching his thighs and cock alike, “can’t wait to sink my cock into you, fuck,” Satoru murmurs, the wet squelch of your cunt rang in his ears, and he could imagine how wet and warm you’d be once he sunk into you, inch by inch. 

And he couldn’t wait — he needed to do something. 

Satoru’s fingers found their way down your body, tweaking your nipple before one large palm dragged slowly down your front, until he found your clit right above Suguru’s face. 

“Toru,” you gasp, as his fingers pinch your clit and Suguru glares, pulling his lips away for a moment, only to sink a finger back in insteas, drawing a moan from your lips, “Sugu—fuck—“ 

And it’s too much, one more touch and you’re cumming, body falling back into Satoru, as Suguru fucks you through your orgasm. Your release runs down their fingers, as Satoru lifts his hand a moment to lick his fingers clean. 

God, you’re too pretty for your own good, Satoru’s eyes drag over you — your kiss ruined lips, skin shiny from your sweat, and the way your eyes were lost in an endless pool of lust. 

“Suguru was right, you’re the sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted,” Satoru grin, gently turning your head, and you’re panting, nose wrinkling ever so slightly at his words, and he tuts, “don’t believe me? Well I can fix that,” and his lips find yours again, letting you taste yourself, swallowing your moans, as Suguru continued to finger fuck you. 

Suguru’s finger stretches you open, fluttering, knuckle deep, as your precum drips down his fingers. 

“Remember who’s fucking this cunt, sweetheart,” and Suguru is, another finger parting your needy folds, and between Satoru rubbing your clit and Suguru’s fingers curling to find that one spot, drags against your insides, “fuck, how are we going to fit, Satoru? She’s still so tight,” Suguru grunts. 

You pull your lips from Satoru’s, a whine leaving your lips, “More, please, I need—“ and a third finger joins the other two — but it’s not Suguru’s. 

“Fuck, you’re so fucking soft,” Satoru groans, pressing soft kisses to your skin, only serving to make you keen at their touch, and your walls flutter around their fingers. 

“Fuck, we’re trying to fuck her open and she just keeps getting tighter,” Suguru grunts, while Satoru’s lips find your earlobe, sucking, just as he adds another finger, a moan escaping your lips again. 

Suguru’s fingers fuck at a steady pace, fucking deeper and deeper, while Satoru’s are faster, pistoning in and out while dragging against your walls — and it’s not long until they are working you up to a second orgasm, it’s too fucking good — and they both find that spot in you that has you seeing stars. 

“I’m g’nna—” and Satoru finds your lips in a sloppy kiss, saliva slipping from the corner of your mouth. And you cum, even harder, your swollen folds clamping down on their fingers as they continue to fuck you unendingly through your orgasm. Your lips pull away, only to moan their names, again and again, until they finally slow down. 

“Good girl,” Suguru murmurs, pressing sweet kisses to your thighs, while you come down from your high, walls flutter around nothing at the praise, while Satoru nips at your neck right above your racing pulse. And your eyes find Suguru lazily palming his weeping erection, as you lift your bare foot to rub against it, making him hiss, while you rub against Satoru teasingly. 

“Don’t forget who’s in control,” you kiss Satoru again, before biting his bottom lip, and he’s melting into your touch, “and, you were good,” your foot rubs against Suguru’s cock again, drawing another pretty groan from his lips, “but now it’s time to be obedient.” 

And they are — as you have Satoru sit back against the pillow lined headboard, because if it was anything you knew now — Satoru loved to be controlled, while Suguru liked the illusion of control, even if he didn’t have even a bit of it. So you have Suguru kneeling behind you, as you climb into Satoru’s lap, a small groan leaving his lips as your cunt grazes his hard cock. 

“Such a good boy, aren’t you, Toru?” your fingers run through his hair — and god, his undercut was so fucking hot, as your fingers found his cock, letting the tip tease your soaked folds, as you line yourself up, “tell me what you want,” 

“Fuck, princess, y’know what I want,” and a whine leaves his throat when you let his tip sink into you, only to pull out. 

“Come on, nothing else to say? You always love running that mouth, don’t you? You wanted this, wanted me to ruin you, didn’t you? Well here we are,” you hum, as you press a teasing kiss to the corner of his mouth, “beg me,” 

And his dick twitches, painfully hard, and the words spill from his lips, “Please, please, sweetheart, use me, use my cock as a toy, want you to fuck me so bad, make me yours—” and you’re sinking onto his cock, his length parting your folds, as moans fall from both of your lips. And he bottoms out, your hips meeting his as you do, and you can feel every vein, every ridge, every inch notched inside your walls. 

“Toru, fuck, s’good, s’big,” it feels too fucking good, and he’s so long — god, he was brushing against places you never even dreamed of reaching. And your pussy clenched at the thought of how deep he would go when he would start thrusting. 

“Sure you have space for me, Princess?” Suguru leans back over to press kisses all over your face, before finding your lips in a heated kiss, “might be too tight of a fit,” his nose brushing against your cheek. 

“I’ll make you fit,” you murmur against his lips, your hands against Satoru’s chest, as you shift to cup his chin, “get behind me, Sugu,” 

Suguru smirks, slipping behind you, pressing himself against your back, dragging his cock teasingly against you, “So needy — you’re worse than Satoru,” and Satoru makes a noise of protest, but your walls flutter, making his back arch, “want me inside you, sweetheart?” And his tip teases at your entrance, brushing against Satoru’s cock, causing all three of you to moan, “tell me how much you want us to fuck you, how much you want both of us inside you,” 

“Fucker, I swear to god,” you turn your head, your glare undercut by the desperation on your face, “just fuck me— 

And Suguru sinks into you, your head falling back against him, as both of their cocks stretch your cunt out. You were so fucking full. And the way your walls clenched around them was nearly enough to make them cum. Their groans come in unison. 

“Fuck, Princess, you don’t have to break our dicks off — we’ll fuck you again,” Suguru grunts, his rough palms sliding to your hips to squeeze them. 

“S’good, sweetheart, so fucking right for us,” and you can’t think straight with the two of them inside of you, and you’re moaning. 

“Please, move—“ and they oblige, beginning to fuck you. You moved against Satoru, riding him as best you can, while Suguru fucked you from behind, his balls slapping against your ass. 

Suguru drives into you at a steady pace, causing you to rock against Satoru, your hips pressed against his, as they both drive deeper and deeper into your wet cunt. 

“S’good, so pretty,” Suguru presses sweet kisses to your neck, while Satoru’s eyes flutter open to meet yours, “I’m close, Satoru—“ 

“Me too,” Satoru manages, and his hips begin to meet your thrusts, “you gonna cum for us princess?” And he finds your gaze, the fucked out expression enough to nearly make him cum right there. 

A whine leaves your lips, as they continue to fuck you, and you know you’re so close. And then they find that spot in you again, and you’re falling apart, lips parted in a moan, both their names on your lips. You clamp down on them, toes curling as you cum, and neither of them can last. Their hips stutter as they give sloppy thrusts, until they both cum, 

They groan your name as they spurt their thick cum inside, notching themselves as deep as they could, continuing to fuck their cum inside you with messy thrusts. 

A whimper escapes your lips between pants, as your arms and legs shake from your position, utterly fucked out. You three stay like that for a moment, both of their sweet nothings they murmur to you falling on deaf ears.

And then finally they are shifting you onto the bed, pressing soft kisses to your face and neck, as your eyes flutter shut. There’s shifting on the bed, as one of them leaves for a moment, and you make a noise, only to be reassured that he’ll be right back. 

Your eyes finally flutter open to find Satoru and Suguru cleaning you up with a wet washcloth, and your gaze finds both of their own. Your lips curl at the sight of them, their gentle gaze enough to make your heart ache. 

“Come back,” you whine, and they both chuckle, as they begin to finish drying you off, before tossing the washcloth into the wastebasket, and crawling back beside you. They help you pull a shirt on, before settling in. 

“So needy,” Satoru murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead, even as he buries his face in your chest, his warm breath tickling you as you run your fingers softly through his white locks. And Suguru presses himself to your back, pressing a soft kiss to your neck, his arm around your waist, and yours resting on top of his. 

“What will we do with her?” Suguru mutters, and you can hear the smirk in his tone. 

“Shut up,” you mumble, your eyes beginning to feel heavy, as you give into the warmth that enveloped you from their bodies, as it lulled you to sleep. And your lips curled into a smile, a smile that had you wondering right before you slipped into sleep—

When was it that you fell for them? 

~~~~

You couldn’t do this. Not to them. 

That’s what you had decided come morning — waking up between entangled limbs and soft breaths against your skin — how could you? You felt Satoru shift closer to you, as you leaned into his touch, running your fingers through Suguru’s black locks. You were addicted to their touch only after one night, and now you had to spend the rest of your life without it. 

It was the only way. 

This whole thing was ridiculous to begin with — you never cared to be involved in the yakuza to begin with. You wanted a normal life — or at least as normal of a life you could have with who your grandfather was. You had never expected to end up wrapped up in all of this — and in both of them. 

But you didn’t know if you could choose between them — and you knew, you had to. It wasn’t fair to either of them — not when they had asked you to choose last night and they had indulged you in both of them. And now, you didn’t want to let either of them go. 

So you had to let both of them go. 

You shifted slowly to sit up, Your fingers traced Satoru’s cheek lightly, as you toyed with a strand of Suguru’s hair. They both still stayed fast asleep, quiet snores filling the silence of the early morning, deep in the embrace of sleep after the events of last night and the last few weeks. You didn’t want to be someone like your grandfather — you didn’t know what you wanted and that was enough of an answer wasn’t it?

The two shift in their sleep, and your body grows heavy, your back still aching from last night, as you lie back down beside them, running your fingers over both of their arms. 

Even if you had your answer, you didn’t have to face it for another few hours. And their bodies shifted, Satoru burying his face in the nape of your neck, while you rested against Suguru’s chest. This was enough — enough to last you a lifetime, wasn’t it? Your eyes fluttered shut, sinking slowly back to sleep. You had told your grandfather you’d break their hearts — 

—but you didn’t know you would be breaking yours as well. 

~~~

“What do you mean she’s gone?” Satoru narrowed his eyes, crossing his arms, as Suguru stepped aside to show the empty room you had left behind — a bare husk with nothing left behind, not even a note. 

It had been a day. 

When Satoru had woken up beside you, he could have sworn he was still dreaming, even as he grazed your skin gently with the back of his knuckles, he still couldn’t quite believe it. And when he spotted Suguru pressing kisses to your cheek, he knew it was real. 

“How long have you been awake?” Satoru raised an eyebrow, “it’s not fair to have your fun while we were asleep,” 

And Suguru rolled his eyes, as he rubbed the back of his knuckles gently against her cheek, “I just woke up, and all I did was kiss her, you idiot,” 

“Not fair, that means I have to kiss her too,” Satoru murmurs, pressing gentle kisses to your forehead and cheek, and one even to your nose. Your nose wrinkles in your sleep, and Satoru’s lips quirk upwards, “she’s so exhausted from last night still,” 

“She is,” Suguru hums, as he tilts his head, “what are we going to do about last night?” 

Satoru pauses a moment to consider, “Well, what is there to discuss? She chose us both, didn’t she?” Satoru leaned close to you, to press a kiss to your head. 

“She did,” Suguru props himself up with his elbow on his side, “I thought you weren’t one to share,” 

And Satoru shrugged — he wasn’t one to share, he wanted what was his to be his alone, but with you — the more people to protect you, the better, “If it’s what makes her happy, I don’t mind,” and he adds, “and I don’t mind if it’s you that I’m sharing with,” 

Suguru raises an eyebrow, a chuckle on his lips, “Is that so? Well, good,” as he runs a finger through your hair, “because I feel the same.” 

But Satoru supposed you didn’t. 

“When did she—“ 

“My father told me she contacted her grandfather this morning, and let them know she was leaving — and her single request was to send us away on business so we wouldn’t be able to stop her,” and Satoru gives a bitter chuckle. 

“So that’s it?” Satoru crosses his arms, “why did she—“ and he cuts himself off, “have you tried to call—“ 

“I’m blocked, I assume you are too,” Suguru shook his head, a silence settling over the two of them that Satoru chose to break. 

“Do we go after her?” And Suguru pauses, his brow wrinkling a moment, before he sighs, shaking his head. 

“If she comes back, it has to be her choice,” Suguru slid his hands into his pockets, “otherwise, we’re back to square one,” and he adds, “and I don’t think I can go back after last night.” 

Suguru steps away, heading back down the hallway, and Satoru follows. 

No, Satoru thinks, sparing one glance at the empty room, before pulling the door shut, neither could he. 

~~~

“Why did you come back?” You set another box down, wiping the sweat from your brow, your grandfather simply watching as you brought your things back into your room. 

“What a warm welcome,” you scoff, as you head back out to pick up another — the other staff had offered to help, but you had waved them off, lifting another box, your back still aching — and now you were starting to regret it. But you knew if you didn’t do something to distract yourself — your phone taunting you on the top of your desk — you’d do something you’d regret. 

And you’d already filled your quota for the next six months at least. 

“Don’t get me wrong, kid,” the geezer sighed, as he watched you bring the last of the boxes in, “I’m glad you’re back and the matters are all settled — but,” he tilts his head, “you seem more miserable than before,” 

“I’m just tired,” you reply, but his furrowed brow says he’s unconvinced, as you grab a box cutter and begin to open up the boxes, beginning to sort through your things, “and still trying to wrap my head around the fact you lied to me,” 

And he sighs, “this isn’t about me right now — it’s about you—“ 

“How convenient,” you mutter under your breath. 

“You’re in love, aren’t you?” And you can’t help but freeze for a moment, until you force yourself to continue unpacking, pulling out some of your clothes from the box, “which one is it?” 

The question stabs between your ribs like a well thrust sword between the ribs, finding the center of the problem — along with your heart. 

“Gramps—” 

“So it’s both of them?” and you whirl on him, your eyes narrowing, and he chuckles, holding up his hand, “I didn’t spy — I just took a guess,” he sighed, as he pulled out your desk chair and took a seat in it, “and it looks like I was right,” 

You swallow, your eyes falling to the floor, “I didn’t cheat, if that’s what—” 

He laughs, “I know you aren’t like me, little one,” he leans back in the chair, hands folded in his lap, “you aren’t one to lie — because I know there’s more you hate than liars,” and his gaze grows a little sadder, “And I’m sorry I had to become one of them,” 

You grit your teeth, “I’m not mad at you — I’m just—” you choose your words carefully — because you’re angry, you were upset — upset that he felt as if he couldn’t trust you, “wondering why you didn’t tell me the truth,” 

He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck, “My past isn’t something I’m proud of, and I wanted to deal with it without involving you,” he sighed, “after everything with our family — I didn’t want to give you another reason to distance yourself from me,” 

“Lying to me isn’t a better option than that,” he rubs the back of his head, “you have to make it right for Akari and her mother — as well as if you have any other kids—I don’t need to know,” you add, when he opens his mouth, “it isn’t fair to them,” and it would be no fairer to not choose between Satoru and Suguru. 

“You’re right,” he raises a brow, “is that the problem? You can’t choose between the two of them, eh?” and your gaze refuses to meet his, “have you talked to them about it?” and your silence serves as an answer, “then I think you should take your own advice and talk to them about it,” 

“What will that do?” you murmur, “they still will want me to choose—” 

“Do you know that for a fact?” he crosses his arms, “I think you owe it to them and to yourself to talk to them, and to your grandfather who can’t stand to see you this miserable at home,” 

“Do you think it will change anything?” and he shrugs. 

“Maybe it will or maybe it won’t,” he tilts his head, as he pulls out his phone to call you a car, “but if it’s a chance for you to be happy, isn’t it worth taking?” 

~~~~

“I want to marry you both,” 

And again, your statement is met with confused stares, as you had all but pulled up to their compound and entered to find them seated together discussing business in a side room — and their stares were still anything but average — but to you now, they meant so much more. 

“Not marry you right now, but maybe eventually,” adrenaline was surely pumping through your system, right? That’s probably why your hands were shaking and your mouth was dry, but even so you knew you needed to say it before they spoke, “I’m sorry for leaving the way I did. I told myself after we first met I wouldn’t be a coward, but I was when I ran away, and I don’t have any excuse,” you swallowed, “but I know what I want — and I want both of you, as selfish as that feels,” guilt crawled up your throat at the statement of that sentence, as if begging you to swallow the words that spilled from your lips back up, “and I don’t know how either of you feel — but if we were to do this, I would want us to be honest and—” 

And the screech of their chairs takes you aback, and you felt your cheeks burn, was this it? 

But instead of brushing past you, they stand in front of you, one of them tilting your head upwards to meet their gazes. 

“Took you long enough, sweetheart,” Satoru’s lips curled, his hand cupping your cheek, “I know we said we wanted you to hurt us, but not like that,”

“Sent us away just to ghost us,” Suguru clicked his tongue, his fingers still under your chin, “I’ll have to plant a tracker on you again,” 

You shake your head, “Wait, what? Are you both okay—” 

“We did say we’d kill the other for your hand, but,” Suguru presses a kiss to your forehead, “But now we realize the more eyes watching you, the better, and,” he shrugs, “we don’t mind sharing if it’s just with the other,” 

“And I know you’ll prefer me sooner or later,” Satoru adds, earning a glare from Suguru, as you only chuckle, “Suguru is always so grumpy—ow!” Suguru smacks on the back of the head, as the black haired yakuza wraps his arms around you, pressing your back to his front. 

“And you are always too busy running your mouth,” Suguru replies, pressing a kiss to your cheek, “sure you can handle both of us in your life?” and you pull Satoru close too, letting his lips brush yours, before turning and pressing a kiss to Suguru. 

“Shouldn’t you be asking yourselves that?” you say, as the two of them wrap an arm around you, “I am supposed to ruin your lives after all.” 

✧ a/n: so this has been a longtime coming. i was supposed to be working on prof geto (5) + my nanami celebration fic but this took over my life and wouldn't let go until i finished. so i hope you guys enjoy!! and this is my reminder why i don't write multi partner scenes like this often because its....difficult. thank you to @gaylatteart for reading and putting up with me <333

✧ taglist: @midmourn, @whore-for-hawks, @ekaterinatepes, @satoryaa, @mandysfanfics, @sodoney, @sukunasfavoritehole, @kazbrkker, @satorugirlie, @itsbokutosjuicyass, @santos4, @levanadragoneel, @talkativetranscendant, @abiiebibie, @simply-a-s1mp, @jolynelovesrain, @deegausserr, @xxemmarldxx, @biancaness, @satoniko, @ackermanbby, @rintoriss, @kentocalls, @marionettte, @bear-likes-mushrooms, @forest-hashira, @catsgomurp, @k1t0u, @rat-loves, @forest-fruits-jam, @wishingforanother, @roseified, @spider-fan72, @caelestine-the-caelicatto, @gojolvrr34, @chosobun, @chuuyasboots, @nanamis-baker, @hanxyy,

[suguru-getos]

soft yandere satoru hcs:

a/n: hey, you guys should know i ship myself with him so there's no way i'd tolerate insane yandere satoru without ki!ling myself :P soooo- here's me making him a soft yan ^^

warnings: yandere behavior, mentions of arranged marriage troupe, stalkingtroupe, angry!sato ofc but he is still normal about it. mentions of fluff because it's satoru duh <33 also, this is one of the softest yandere hcs i've ever written *giggles*

yandere!satoru who saw you the first time in a jujutsu clan party hosted by your parents and how insignificant you truly were. to yourself, you had the best parents ever, they didn't push you into becoming a sorcerer, but to the kamo, zenin, and gojo clan members it was pure bullshit. wastage of proper sorcerer blood.

until yandere satoru met you for the first time and you hung out, the way he conversed was so different from someone who should be the strongest, someone who wields the highest powers in the whole world. someone who's birth shook the shackles of this world alone. he was kind, he sat next to you, non-judgemental even so he was weirdly wearing that damned blindfold.

he talked to you about your life, and about his own. pointing out the subtle and the not so subtle differences between the both of you. asking if you had a boyfriend. it was so subtle how could you think he had any other intention but to be your friend? naive and stupid.

things escalated real quickly when your mother told you that you were supposed to marry satoru gojo, oh my god- the clan head of the gojo clan, the ever so spoiled, esteemed entitled brat. you really couldn't say anything about this, but to hold your guns you decided to contact him. "you knew that this was happening?" you mumbled, watching him stir the coffee in front of you lazily. "of course, gosh you are so lucky little one!" he snickered, though the way he looks at you, it's hard to process what he's truly feeling inside. you are unaware of his stalking, how he knows your colleagues, how they are what they do, what they eat, how they breathe, to whom you are closer to, who likes you- what time do you get up, eat, what snack do you like, ghana roasted coffees over normal ones. though he would not admit to it.

there are a few times he has watched you sleep like a creep, just sitting next to you, just feeling the innate feeling of sharing the same bed as you. how cute you are, he often mumbles to himself. "i could crush you without even trying" as a musing criteria for how naive you are, how cute you are and how absolutely adorable you are. creepy-

to pretend that he is more than willing to let you take things your own way, he lets you plan dates. cute, adorable dates. one of the days you would be doing pottery with him, the other time it's an aquarium date where satoru doesn't know why you're so mesmerised when the real awe is you, the other time it was a planeterium and that's when satoru shows you his abilities for the first time, holding you closer to him like the princess you are and walking on sky, as if it's nothing, amid the full moon night. the other time it's you and him making tiaras in a garden, sometimes he would just randomly pull you closer, kissing your cheek while languishing in a movie together. so cute, so astonishingly cute! maybe marrying him is not a bad idea???

things show you their true form when you were on a date in a high-end restaurant, roof-top and fully booked. he's always been so cute with you, you had opened up and been comfortable enough. until a waiter decided to hit on you, before long- you found him choking on his own blood, despicable sight of him oozing out blood from his eyes, coughing and dying in front of you. "wh- what was that?" when you glance at satoru, he is emphasising the same lazy grin, smirking. "what. go on? smile back!" he muses, and when you're a teary-eyed mess, he presents himself with a carefully painted visage of guilt. "oh no no- baby i'm so sorry- i lost it, you make me lose it! i love you so much please no!"

would not let you have personal space after, forcing your parents to hasten the whole marriage thingy, he thinks you would leave him and that has him acting out of character. though he now knows fear is a powerful tool, even though he does not want to use it on his darling. sometimes he can't help it, especially when you act so fucking adamant and so fucking stubborn!!

"listen, princess, here's what's going to happen. daddy's going to be really cooperative if you come here and give him a hug, daddy does not want to be a meanie to his little girl. you know that right?" by being a 'meanie' he just means getting angry, manhandling you against the wall, seething in rage and bubbling hot with the insecurity of your behavior being the slightest of different.

the thing is satoru really, really loves you. the prospect of being a yandere is more 'dere' in him. however when the yandere shows? that's when you should truly fear the capabilities of this man. satoru hates this but he can sometimes use your triggers against you. don't like being tied up, maybe an empty threat would get you in line, after all, you refuse to listen when he wants to love you!

he's going to make sure your engagement ring has a location curse imbued into it, he wants to know 24x7 where his baby is. one time you lied to him that you are at work when you were actually in a colleague's party, you were greeted by the whole party avenue being destroyed to shreds, people bruised and only you knew it was your now husband, because he texted. 'infinity protects you princess, not others. next time think twice about lying to daddy.'

his behavior can get hot and cold instantly, one moment he is the most adorable man-child, loving you, playing with you... until he's ticked off and the real, no-nonsense monster comes out to meet you. a scathing frown with glowy eyes as he reminds you that you belong to the 'strongest'.

there are times he does use sex as a weapon, a weapon to make you give in. he is just so good at it, he is going to spoil you senseless, kissing every square inch of your body, worshipping you, crying with you when he mumbles apologies for being angry and mean at you, for scaring you, you don't deserve it, such a pretty baby, oh you take him so well. he was made for you, you are the strongest because you have him wrapped around your pinkie... only to show you the rage and insecurity and all of it when you come home late.

the only positivity you have, is he would rather kill himself than hurt you. that brings you peace, that brings a sense of stability and sensibility into you to hang onto the rope of your relationship a bit longer, clutching onto the fleeting hope of him changing...

[littlenightma]

Hello. I may have been obsessed with Rusty Nail for the last few hours. I wonder if you can write a Yandere Rust Nail headcanon?

Yandere!Rusty Nail Headcanons

• Yandere!Rusty gives absolutely zero fucks and tolerates zero bullshit. All he really wants is to be left the hell alone, but it doesn’t always end up happening that way. This time, though, he was pleasantly surprised because he ended up with you. It might take a while for you to adjust to your new life with him, but he promises it’s for your own good.

• Will kill anyone like that if they upset you intentionally or not. He hates seeing your tears and how you become withdrawn with sadness. Will make you watch as he chains them to his truck and drags them down the road until there is nothing left but a trail of blood, guts, and bones. And if you get scared, he’ll console you with gentle kisses and tight hugs, rocking you back and forth until you are okay again.

• “The world is full of people like that, but don’t you worry, little one. I’ll be here to take care of ‘em.”

• If you break any his rules, he will break you back respectively. The rules are in place for a reason. They are there for your protection and for his peace of mind when he is not around and breaking them is a good way to get on his bad side (which he hates showing you) but if you can’t listen, then you’ll have to face the consequences. He has to make sure you know you’re place.

• “I know it hurts, darlin’, but you know what else hurt? That little slap you gave me when I found you.” He inspects the mark on your face. “So just consider this as me returning the favor.”

• And when you really break the rules that leaves him so pissed that he could kill someone, anyone, he ties you up naked and defenseless in his trailer. You’re hanging up by your arms, barely able to stand up straight, having to resort to using your toes. He wants you to be as uncomfortable as possible. He hates doing it and he hates that you have forced him to resort to this, but you have to learn, baby. You can see the sadness and disappointment written across his face before he goes emotionless.

• He drives and drives and drives with you bouncing in the back. Your arms hurt, your legs are tired, and you’re calling out for Rusty to stop but he ignores your cries. He keeps on driving — speeding up at some points when you become hysterical — like you’re nothing but cattle on the way to the slaughterhouse. It’s not until you have gone silent from exhaustion when the truck finally comes to a stop.

• “Have you learned your lesson?”

• You hiccup, voice barely above a whisper. “Yes.”

• “Will you try to leave?”

• “No.”

• He cups your cheek and makes you look at him. “I hate doing this to you. Don’t make me do it again.”

• If you think his punishments are bad, his rewards are far better. After a particularly rough handling session and Rusty is certain that you have learned your lesson, he does whatever he can to ease the pain and fatigue. Runs you a hot bath (provides bubbles or candles if requested) and cooks you a warm meal to have after.

• Gets you whatever you want. He is a provider at heart and provide for you he will. Price doesn’t matter to him, but he appreciates it when you bring it up anyway. You hold something for too long at the store and he’s making you put it in the basket despite your protests. You want new clothes? You got them. You want a new game that just released? It’s ordered. Whatever you want so you can live life happy and comfortable with him you will get, understand?

• This man is only truly happy when you’re happy. Ever since you came into his life he isn’t in those foul moods he often found himself in and he sees the world a little more brighter than he used to. But don’t ever think he won’t knock some heads when he needs to.

• The way your eyes light up when he presents his gifts to you makes him feel like the best man in the world and so does the combination of a tackle and a tight hug you give him to show how grateful you are. Those are the moments he lives for, too see you happy, protected, and all his.

NSFW 18+

• Will edge you like a sorry motherfucker until you are begging for his cock and relentlessly insisting that you’ll never try to leave him. Rusty is possessive and protective over his shit and the thought of you gone hurts him straight to the core. He was a lone rider for so long and he’ll be damned if he ever has to live his life without you in it.

• His cock, chain, or belt. Take your pick, baby, because either way you’re getting punished. The welts on your ass and the stinging pain on your cheek are nothing compared to the what he felt when he realized you had escaped. He thought he’d lost you, but he found you and brought you right back home, didn’t he?

• He takes you out to a field when the moon is high in the sky. He tells you to take off your clothes and lay on your stomach. You hear the unmistakable unbuckling of his belt.

• “I thought I was being good, Daddy. Am I still being punished?”

• He hushes you and turns your head. You bury your face into your arms expecting a smack, but it never comes. Rusty peppers kisses down your spine and presses his hips into yours. He gently thrusts for hours, never going at a pace that throws you two over the edge, but it still feels nice to be connected to him.

• His arms are cradling you and his chest is on your back. You feel his heat, his heartbeat, his entire body moving and all night long he’s whispering how much he loves you and that he will never let you go. You’re his baby and no one will ever take care of you like he does. He’s yours, don’t you feel it? He never wants to put his cock inside anyone else and he for damn sure never wants another cock inside you.

• “Are you ready to come with me, baby? I’m gonna fill you up so good. Let me hear you, okay? Goddamn, you look so damn beautiful taking my seed.”

• You and him come together multiple times under the moon and stars until neither of you can move. He covers you both with the blanket he brought and you fall asleep wrapped up in Rusty’s embrace thinking that being with him isn’t such a bad thing after all.

[eveningepiphany]

hotel room | H.S

summary: harry & Y/N are friends but it’s a love hate relationship with so much tension you can hardly breathe. this tension isn’t any better when they get stuck in a hotel room together for the night. and it only has one bed.

warnings: SMUT! hand job (f+m receiving), PIV unprotected, sloppy morning sex, teasing, swearing, praise, friends to lovers.

A/N:I have opened my requests! and I’d love to write some from you guys, so send them in here <3

———

“So there’s only… definitely only one room for us?” I say slowly, and the lady behind the counter nods.

“Y/N,” Harry says, “we’ve shared a room before—“

“I’m so sorry the inconvenience— Since the multitude of delayed flights from the storm we’ve had an unexpected influx of last-minute bookings…” her hands are zipping along the keyboard as she is clearly under the pump.

“You’ve been booked under a single room.” She glances up, face turned up apologetically, confirming.

I nod, knowing there’s so many other people needing somewhere to stay right now, there’s no point being picky.

It’s just one night.

Because Harry and I live in the same part of the UK, we usually catch the same planes to and from when we get short breaks from touring with the band.

So of course we flew out for our Australian leg of the tour several hours ago and got stuck at our layover destination, Abu Dhabi.

The storm rolled in quick, putting hour— even day long— delays on flights. So now people are scrambling to book hotels for the next few nights.

Luckily our management got on it as soon as we’d called them about the delay of out flight, but I suppose they only could get us the one room for two.

We get our room key and head up the elevator to the 7th floor.

When we walk into the room there is a single queen bed in the centre of it, and I glance at Harry out the corner of my eye. We are always close to one another being in the band, but never “share a bed” close.

“Don’t stress.” He says.

“I’m not stressed.” I quip.

“Yes you are, don’t try and bullshit me.”

“Harry, we’re adults it’s fine.”

“Hardly adults.” He chuckles.

I scoff at his constant digs, there is a fineline of how much Harry I can tolerate in a day and we are really pushing it.

“Well if you think that then I implore you to take the couch.” I know just by looking at the couch he’d hardly fit on it, and I’m not that much of an asshole to let that happen.

“Oooh, you’re just trying t’get the bed all to yourself? Bloody bed hog.”

I open my bag up, pulling out fresh clothes and my toiletries, “Was just providing you the options. I’m going to shower.”

“Too bad if I wanted one first.” He sighs dramatically, with a little smirk that usually indicates he’s teasing.

“Too bad indeed.” I smile sarcastically at him as I shut the door.

It’s so nice to wash away the gross feeling that sticks to your skin after long flights like we just had.

When I come out of the bathroom he’s laying in the bed, crisp white doona pulled back.

“Dude you’re getting airport germs in the bed.”

He glances up from his phone, eyeing me for a split second— I’m just in sleep shorts and a plain tshirt.

“It’s fine, I’ll just have this side.” He replies, a smile breaking out over his face.

He leaves me no room to respond as he stands up, “im gonna have a shower as well, and then we can order room service, how’s that sound?”

I nod, “I’ll get the menu and have a read through.”

It’s weird how we one minute can’t stop sarcastically niggling and the next we’re back to being normal friends.

I browse through their relatively large menu as the shower runs in the background. If I strain, I can hear Harry gently humming.

I’m happy to see my favourite foods on there… and heaps of deserts.

He comes out shortly after while I’m still reading the menu, and he’s clad in only grey sweatpants, adorning damp hair.

I choose to tear my eyes away from his bare chest, “I’ve figured out what I want to get, have a read through.”

I chucked him the menu and he comes to sit down next to me on the bed.

Im surprised we don’t end up in another debate about the sleeping arrangements, but I think we’re both so exhausted from the flight. The 8 hour plane trip settling deep into our bones.

“They have y’favourite.” He says with a smile playing on his lips.

“Yea, I’m so glad. It’s all I’m craving right now.”

“What are you gonna get?” I lean to look over his shoulder at the menu.

“Maybe I’ll try their tacos?”

“I’m gonna order some of the desert stuff too.”

“Y’gonna be so full.” He laughs.

“It’ll be worth it.” I say, as I stand up to go over to the phone on the desk in the corner of the room.

I ring up and order an unnecessary amount of stuff before giving them our room number and hoping back into bed.

It’s so cozy, and if it weren’t for the food I knew was coming, I’d probably curl up and fall asleep straight away.

We lay together, talking about the plan for the next few days until the food gets delivered with a knock on the door.

I get up to open it, taking the trays of food from the kind waiter.

He groans, “God it smells good.”

We both spread the dishes of food on the bed and quickly start eating.

The TV starts playing reruns of friends, the episode where Ross makes the paste with his leather pants, trying to get them up.

We’re both tearing up with laughter, stuffing our faces with our first proper meal since dinner on the plane over 5 hours ago.

“Holy shit.” He says, and we’re are letting out fits of giggles, as Ross says “—and the lotion and the powder have made a paste…”

“I swear— why did he listen to joey.” I scoff, shoving a bite of food into my mouth.

“No, because the way it just keeps getting worse.” He buries his face into his hands with a pained grin.

We watch a few of the episodes that were playing, sharing the last of the chocolate cookies that I’d ordered.

I stood up to move all the trays our food came on over to the small kitchen bench, leaving them for the morning.

“That was so yum.” I sigh out, content and full.

I go into the bathroom to brush my teeth and finish up my night routine, ready to honestly just go to sleep.

I come out with a small smile on my lips, excited to get back into bed where it’s cozy. Slipping back under the crisp white sheets, Harry turns off the TV.

The room is now dark, “fuck… can’t see now— I gotta brush m’teeth as well.”

“Have my phone.” I chuck it in his general direction, and clonk him straight in the side.

“Ouch.” He huffs, grabbing it and turning the flash on.

He pads over to the bathroom while I roll my eyes at how dramatic he is.

He turns the lights on in there, coming back over to give me my phone now that he can see.

I text a few of my immediate family members to let them know we’d settled into our hotel, choosing to leave out the fact we’re sharing a bed.

I mean assuming that’s what the plan is. I highly doubt he wants to sleep on the couch.

Being the only female in a band of boys leads to lots of assumptions throughout my family unit. Especially with Harry.

They mistake our arguments as ‘pent-up sexual frustration’. Which is far from how I like to think of it.

He steps out from the bathroom, and I turn my torch on so he can flick the light off.

He scrapes a hand over his face, looking to me with tired eyes.

The hotel was relatively quiet now, only a few drunken laughs echoing down the hallway as it nears 12am.

He climbs back into the bed, pulling the covers over himself.

I tug my pillow down a bit before turning off my flash.

“Y’tired?” He asks quietly, sounding already kind of groggy.

I hum in agreement, rolling to face him. It’s quiet a few beats.

I can just make out his outline next to me,

I can feel the warmth of his body from where I’m laying. And it feels like I’m being enveloped by it in a strange— yet lovely way.

The thought floats around in my head, images conjuring from the darkness.

I blame this on the 8 hour flight and sleep deprivation.

Usually I can ignore it, but as much as he’s a proper pain in the ass sometimes, I’d have to be visually impaired to say he wasn’t good looking.

And hell he’s laying in the same bed as me without a shirt on.

“Y’staring at me.” He chuckles softly, and I startle a little.

“How can you even see me?” I ask, amused.

“I can’t, can just feel it.”

“As if you can feel it.” I scoff, “I’ll roll over if my eyes being on you makes you too uncomfortable.”

“No, no, wait come back.” He whines as I start to move.

I huff out a laugh, and roll back over to him.

I keep my eyes shut, “better?”

He whispers a yes, and I smile.

I keep that very smile as I drift off, listening to Harry’s slow breathes from beside me, allowing them to lull me to sleep.

———

I can only half remember waking up.

I was warm, heavy, and I felt his body before I saw it.

My eyes had only opened a tiny bit—there was light creeping through the thin curtains, making his unruly hair just visible.

My leg was thrown over his hip, and I was pressed right into his chest. We were fully intertwined, and fuck did it feel nice.

I close my eyes again, I can feel his morning wood. My heart jumps a little in my chest. Maybe I can just roll over— pretend I didn’t feel it, and go back to sleep.

I carefully strain to make the movement, but I instead get pulled closer to him.

He pushes himself against me, a sigh slipping from his nose, and I realise moving may have been a bad idea.

“Fuck…” I hear him mutter against my hair, bucking his hips up again.

“Harry.” I say, voice croaky with sleep. Of course this does nothing.

I have no idea how awake he is, I’m not even fully awake yet. But Jesus, this feels better than it should.

I feel like a horrific person for enjoying the way his clothed-length is pressed into me. But by god I am not strong enough to remove myself from this situation.

“Harry, wake up.” I groaned, squirming a little in his grasp.

He seems to come to it, just enough to realise whatever the fuck is happening in a couple seconds.

“Y/N…? Fuck. what is—“ I feel his body tense underneath me as it hits him, and he probably feels his boner pressed between my legs.

His hand flys up to my thigh that’s resting on his hip, “Holy shit—“

“It’s fine, H.” I whisper, and I’m not really sure why I say that, or what I’m implying by doing so.

Or what it means paired with the fact I haven’t protested to his dick practically grinding against my cunt.

“What do you mean?” He asks, groggily.

“Not sure.” I confess, whimpering a little as he still is hard underneath me. I push into him a bit out of unspoken desire and I hear him swallow.

He doesn’t say anything as he slides his hand up my leg, cupping it on my ass.

I glance up to see his face, his eyes still half-lidded, and his cheeks have a gentle flush to them.

I feel myself getting wetter as he keeps rubbing himself along my thin sleep shorts.

He moans a bit, and I slip my hand between us to palm his cock through his sweatpants.

“This ok? Want me to help you out a bit?”

“God— yes please…” he groans.

I push it underneath his waistband, tugging him out.

He’s heavy and hot in my hand. Glancing down, its bigger than I expected. The tip is flush and red, glistening with the damp beads of precum. Hardly surprising he’s got such a pretty cock.

“Fuckin’ Christ— look at y’little hand wrapped ‘round me.” He swears.

I slowly squeeze the head of it, and that quickly has him bucking into my palm.

His own hand travels between my sleep shorts, “Mind i return the favour?”

I hum in agreement, but he doesn’t do anything, “Gotta hear you say it, tell me what you want.”

I roll my eyes, of course he’s like this in bed, wants to hear how bad I want him.

“What do you want me to say to you Harry? How bad I want your fingers in my wet cunt right now, or how I want you to fuck my clit with your tongue?”

“Want my tongue do you? Because yes that’s exactly what I’d like to hear.” He says, smirking as he dips his hand under my shorts, running his fingers through me.

“No panties… been next to me all night with your pussy so easily accessible. Such a little slut.”

He collects my arousal, carrying it up to my swollen clit. I moan with the action, trying to keep my hand pumping rhythmically.

This proves to be a challenge, as he’s very clearly skilled with his fingers.

“Fuck, you’re so wet. Hardly even touched you.”

“Been grinding your dick into me for a bit, actually.” I hiss as he slips a finger into me.

“Sorry, Baby. Did my hard cock get you all worked up?” He teases, and I hate the fact that he’s right.

I give a particularly hard squeeze and he grunts, “I’ll take that as a yes.”

He quickens the pace of his fingers, fucking them in and out of me.

“Hard to hate me when I’m making you feel so good, hm?” He kisses my forehead, curling his fingers in me.

I cry out. Fuck— I was going to come.

“Wait, wait, wait— don’t wanna come yet, please…” I clench my thighs around his hand and it stills.

I look up at him, his green eyes burning with desire.

He doesn’t say anything, just leans his head down and places a wet kiss on my lips.

He keeps his fingers pumping slowly in and out of me as we start to kiss.

He brings me close to coming again a few times, just to tease me, but he keeps his focus on my lips— pulling my bottom one between his and sucking on it.

It’s messy and sloppy, edges of it blurred from the morning haze still over us.

“Harry.” I say into his mouth, legs shaking a little.

“Want you in me.” It comes out of me as an unbridled thought.

“Jesus…” he murmurs, stunned by hearing the words fly out of me so openly.

He pulls his lips away, cock twitching in my hand, “you want…”

“You want me to fuck you?”

I nod, grabbing the hem of my shirt and slipping it off.

He’s enamoured by me, it’s clear in his eyes.

He reaches his hand up, out of my sleep shorts and he cups my breast with it gently.

He moves his mouth down to place gentle kissed over them.

“You’re perfect, yknow that?” He says against my skin, tugging me closer to him as I smile at the flattery.

“I’m on birth control too.” I state.

He glances up, and it appears I’ve shocked him yet again, “you wanna take me raw?”

I haven’t gone without I condom in ages… but I trust him.

“We’re both clean, right? I trust you.”

He smiles, “I’m clean. As long as your sure.”

I don’t think I’ve ever been surer of something.

He pulls my sleep shorts off, and I help shuck his sweats the rest of the way down his legs.

We’re warm between the sheets, and he’s peppering open-mouthed kisses along my neck as he lines himself up with me.

He locks eyes with me as he pushes in, and both of us moan at the feeling.

“Fuck— you’re tight.” He squeezes his hands on my hips.

I am blinded with the pleasure of him filling me up, I can’t even think about how bad an idea this could be.

“Feels so good, H.” I groan, scraping my nails along his chest.

“Can feel you clenching around me.” He reaches a hand down to play with my clit.

He’s gonna make me come embarrassingly quick— especially considering he sort of edged me a bit while we were kissing.

He was thrusting into me, a perfect pace to have me squirming in his arms.

I can tell he’s getting close, my name flying out his mouth paired with vulgar words and moans.

“I- fuck- I’m not gonna be able to drag this out if you keeping squeezing m’cock like that.” He pants.

“I’m close, so just come with me.” I plead, the thought of him finishing with me adding fuel to the fire in the pit of my stomach.

“God H, I’m gonna come— hard.”

“Fuck, sweetheart, keep talking.” He says, his skin slapping into mine, chasing his orgasm.

“You’re so pretty.” I blurt, spewing the first thing that comes to mind as I look at him.

He really is, his hair is tousled from sleep and my hands, his eyes half lidded from pleasure and tattooed chest slightly damp.

He swears, bottoming out and coming hard without warning. His hand circles my clit fast, bringing my crashing down with him.

“Harry!” I cry, burying my head into the crook of his neck as I ride out the waves of pleasure.

“Good girl, Y/N.” He groans, still thrusting into me trying to prolong his orgasms.

The high slowly ebbs away, and he stays in me for a bit. Nothing but the sounds of our laboured breathing filling the room.

I think we don’t know what to say, after something like that happens— when it all comes on instinct and you’re without any clue on what it changes.

Our dynamic, though it was a love-hate kind of thing, it was a consistent one. You knew what to expect. Now that this has happened…

“I have no idea what you’re thinking right now.” He whispers, “and that kind of scares me.”

I lay quietly for a few heartbeats, “just… that was really good. And I’m not 100% prepared for what might happen after this, y’know. To us I guess.”

“Well. To keep it simple, I really like you— and that was some of the best sex I’ve ever had so…” he trails off, unsure where to go with the sentence.

“Ok— so this isn’t gonna ruin our friendship?” I sigh in a bit of relief.

“Of course not,” he pulls back to look at me, and a smile spreads across his face, “after all, we are adults.”

———

[mochinek0]

Daminette December 2023: 23-Astrology

CONTINUATION OF 'SOMETHING GOOD COMING'

Jon was browsing the horoscope app again.

"You don't really believe that stuff, right?" Marinette questioned.

"Yes." Jon answered.

"Why?" Damian asked.

"Sagittarius are sometimes opinionated, impatient, and detached, but they can also be passionate and inspiring." Jon spoke, "Doesn't that sound like Damian?"

"Actually, it does." Marinette stated.

Damian huffed, "What about yours?"

"My what?" Mari asked.

"What is your sign?" Jon questioned.

"I don't know." Marinette answered, "I've only followed the Chinese zodiac."

"When is your birthday?" Jon prodded.

"Late July." she stated.

"It says here, that you are a Leo." Jon continued.

"Is that a good thing?" she asked, looking confused to Damian.

"Well, your romance options are better than his." Jon chuckled.

"Explain." Damian growled.

Jon winced, "It says your crushes usually end up falling for your friends."

"I don't have friends." Damian replied, "I have people I tolerate." making Mari giggled.

"For Marinette," the half-alien continued, "it says lots of people have crushes on you."

Mari shrugged, "Except the people I like."

"What?" The Wayne heir asked, confused.

"There was Nathaniel, a guy who flirts with puns, a musician, two girls, and my own crushes' cousin." the designer sighed.

The boys just sat there in shock.

"Did you date any of them?" Jon asked.

"The musician for a month." she answered.

"Did he do something?" Damian pushed.

"No." Mari replied, "He was very sweet, but I was always busy."

Jon quickly changed the subject, sensing Mari become uncomfortable, "It says here, Damian wouldn't date because his mother said no."

"You have met my mother." Damian spoke, "You wanna go against her?"

"No." Jon declared.

"Then, it's not a lie." the ex-assassin stated.

Marinette giggled.

"She is the strictest woman I have ever met." Damian spoke.

Jon continued, "It says, here, that you fall for confidence."

Mari nodded, "I can sorta see that."

"What does mine say?" Damian questioned.

"It says you fall for cute smiles." Jon answered, gleefully.

"Well, that's bullshit." the Wayne heir declared, "I see a bunch of harpies smiling at men every time I go to galas."

Marinette patted his shoulder, hoping to comfort him. The bell rang, ending lunch. Mari stood up, waving at them, and left the table.

Jon leaned close to his best friend, "Were any of them cute? Did any of them make you think of their smile again, later?"

"No." Damian answered.

"Then it wasn't a cute smile." the half-alien answered, before leaving as well.

'Cute smile?'

Damian couldn't help, but think of Marinette's smile. Damian stood up quickly.

"Astrology is bullshit." he snapped and left.

Only the few people that were left, notice that his ears were tipped red.

TAGLIST: @maribat-calendar-events @animeweebgirl@a-star-with-a-human-name@meme991001@vixen-uchiha@abrx2002@alysrose-starchild@fandom-trapped-03@dood-space@moonlightstar64@saltymiraculer@marveldcedits20@09shell-sea09@icerosecrystal@animegirlweeb@insane-fangirl-of-everything@blueblossombliss@nickristus-dreamer@megawhitleycalderonpaganus@missmadwoman@meira-3919@princessdaisysolosyourfaves@blep-23@fangirlingfanatic@darkhinauniverse@ravenr22@im-a-satanic-ritual@ravennm84@bianca-hooks123@a-slytherinish-gryffindor@starling218

[kurooo-is-here]

Hear me out. Drayton and Kieran with a mute s/o?

(Tbh I feel like Drayton would think they’re just shy for the first couple of interactions until someone tells him though lol)

Okay, I'm not super knowledgable about deaf or mute folks. But here's my best shot at this ask, if I am incorrect about anything please let me know!

My interpretation of this is that reader is deaf and communicates through sign language, and they cannot speak at all.

Drayton and Kieran with a mute/deaf Reader

(Ignore the snom gif I couldn't think of anything specific to use for this lmao)

Drayton:

Yeah, he's totally clueless at first. Doesn't get why you're doing odd hand motions instead of talking, but he figures everyone has their quirks. It really bothers you that he won't acknowledge it, so you ask Lacey to tell him for you.

When Drayton hears it from Lacey, he feels really bad and is immediately apologetic. He rushes over to you and attempts to apologize, then realizes he doesn't understand sign language at all, so he stumbles on his words a lot.

Lacey facepalms watching all of this go down, so she reluctantly teaches Drayton some basic sign language so he can get his apology across to you. He's delighted to finally be able to talk to you properly-- he has a crush on you, after all.

The rest of the Elite Four soon complains that Drayton studies sign language better than he studies for any of his classes, but he is absolutely determined to make things right with you. Lacey says she's never seen him work that hard!

When he finally confesses to you, he does it right. He makes sure he corrects himself if he messes up a sign, accidentally blurts out a few words while signing-- but you can tell he really means it. It warms your heart to see him trying so hard for you, despite his initial ignorance on the subject.

Drayton notices you get bullied a lot because you're some regular student hanging out with the big leagues (the BBA Elite Four). He IMMEDIATELY shuts down anyone who has the balls to talk shit in front of you knowing you can't hear them. That kind of vile behavior will never be tolerated on his watch.

He texts you a lot. He still talks to you through sign when he sees you in person, but since he's usually busy doing League Club work (or just pretending to be busy), he texts you when he has a moment of free time. At one point you changed his contact name on your phone to "The Drayster", which made his entire WEEK. He would NOT shut up about it.

Don't let this man figure out swears and silly insults in sign language, he's gonna use them all the time now. One time Crispin asked what Drayton was laughing about and he just signed "bullshit" in response which immediately had you on the floor in tears of laughter while Crispin looked SO confused.

Kieran:

Luckily he's more perceptive and understanding than Drayton, so he picks up on your disability right away. Turns out he already knew a bit of sign language from teaching himself too.

When you ask him how he knew sign language already, he just shyly responds that he wanted to be prepared for the event that he needed to communicate with Ogerpon through it for some reason.

He teaches himself a LOT more sign language after meeting you. He really wants to go the extra mile for his new friend and possible crush so he studies and does his research diligently.

Kieran already understands if you're socially awkward, because he's full of anxiety himself. He totally gets it if you need to rely on him to be your translator at any point.

He really loves you and has no problems with your disability, even if he has to try a little harder for you. And after a while, communicating with you becomes easier, which makes you really happy!

After the events of Indigo Disk, he becomes much more protective of you. He wants to become stronger so he can protect you from anyone who tries to bully you or hurt you. His Hydrapple is gonna have a word or two with whichever idiot tries to disrespect your name in his presence.

Whenever he greets you, he tries not to catch you off guard from behind or something, since you can't exactly hear him coming. He really tries to respect your boundaries too, so if you feel uncomfortable with anything he does, he understands.

Slightly unrelated, but Kieran definitely flips people off a lot. He tries to be less pissed when he's around you, but on his own? He's saying "fuck you" to a LOT of people.

One time he tried explaining to a guy about your disability, and the guy had the nerve to do the 👉👌 sign at you as some kind of sick joke... the BBA Elite Four found that guy beaten into a bloody pulp on the ground later. Kieran was taking NO prisoners that day.

[xxlovelynovaxx]

The whole point is you don't know if they're fem cis men. You don't know if they're trans men. You don't know if they're trans women deeply closeted for their safety. You don't know if they're trans women whom misgendering will drive them further AWAY from their egg cracking and harm them. You. Don't. Know.

Misgendering is bad. "Clocking" someone is bad. Making assumptions about someone's identity and then turning it into a "joke" is bad. What's funny about misgendering someone?

Also, this discourse is literally in the context of the queer community. It's literally in the context of the queer community having an antimasculinity and gender essentialism problem. It's also in the context of gender stereotypes and the fact that smelling like flowers or painting your nails making you a girl doesn't become less of a harmless stereotype because it's a trans woman saying it. Like oh wow we went full circle from "girls play with dolls and like pink" to "trans girls play with dolls and like pink". Congrats on alienating every non-femme trans woman and femme trans non-woman.

It's not fucking transmisogyny to tell you not to misgender people or assume liking frilly things makes someone a girl. It's not fucking transmisogyny to tell you that the QUEER and especially TRANS communities have an issue with valorizing femininity while demonizing masculinity. It's not fucking transmisogyny to acknowledge this while acknowledging that actual transmisogyny demonizes transfemininity while infantilizing and erasing transmasculinity.

I'm putting the word transmisogyny on a high shelf until the rest of y'all learn what it actually fucking means. Transmisogyny isn't when an entitled white trans woman gets called out for doing actual harm. Like "joking" about misgendering someone. Or "joking" about being racist and going through a "nazi phase". Or "joking" about "raping cuntboys". It might be affirming that some queer people take your white woman's tears at face value, but here's the thing:

You're lovely women who deserve to have every access to transition, to resources, to be treated equally to cis people. You're just really fucking shitty people. You're bigots, you're cruel, you're cliquey, and you're like every boring high school mean girl who never grew out of pettily bullying other vulnerable people to get over the pathetic inadequacies of your own life circumstances.

People like that deserve community and kindness too. They also deserve not to have their behavior tolerated and to have to deal with compassionate rehabilitative justice. Those things can both be true, especially when the people they are hurting explain until our throats are raw how they're hurting us and they just keep doing it. Because the thing is, it's not actually about any "societal pressure to transition", and the fact you think it is shows you haven't listened to a single actual criticism anyone has had of the whole "egg discourse".

Other people have already explained more patiently and eloquently than me what exactly the problem with calling someone an egg is. I'd think you'd be concerned minimally with how it hurts actual transfem eggs more than anything, even if you don't care about how it very much does hurt transmascs and GNC cis men and the movement of transfeminism as a damn whole to insist "haha liking fem things=woman".

Explain what's funny about that. I'll wait.

Anyway, this was reblogged from someone I long ago considered a friend, someone I thought was better than this. I really thought most trans people were better than this when I first entered the community. I still hope some are. You deserve to be told that this is wrong, because you deserve to be reminded that you're better people than this kind of bullshit.

-your utterly over it neighborhood intersex transneufemmasc

[aerahyasashi]

IDIOSYNCRASIES CHAPTER FOUR AND FIVE

Yandere! Suguru Geto x Fem! Gojo's Sister! Reader

Sypnosis: Where suguru geto founds himself deeply enamored with satoru's non-sorcerer sister to the point of obsession.

Note: This is a fanfic and i originally posted this on quotev. I'm still learning on how to use tumblr so the aesthetic might be a lil shitty. Also, i posted both chapter five and four in one chapter because I'm too lazy to make them separately. Also, pls support me on quotev and wattpad ! (yes, I'm a certified attention whore)

TW: Confusing bullshit, Foul language, Manipulation, Gojo tolerating murder, Gojo being a siscon.

Chapter one

Chapter two

Chapter three

Chapter six and seven

•───癖好───•

SATORU GLANCED AT HIS wristwatch, feeling a surge of annoyance coursing through him as he realized that [Name] had yet to emerge. A solid half-hour had elapsed, and yet there was no sign of her.

'Where the hell is that girl?'

The facade of a smile that he had worn and the insincere greetings he had offered to unfamiliar faces had drained him. He then decided to just go in [Name]'s room, ignoring the people who tried to strike a conversation with him and ignoring his family's scoldings.

As he ventured towards the area where her room resides in, a deep sigh escaped Satoru's lips. Unlike the neighboring rooms, which were conveniently located, her dwelling offered seclusion and distance from others.

As he neared the hallway that led to her quarters, a subtle scent of blood infiltrated his nostrils, causing his brows to furrow instinctively. Perhaps she was experiencing her menstrual cycle?? and maybe she neglected to clean up?? but this particular aroma was distinct from the smell of the metallic and coppery tinge associated with menstrual blood though.

(Don't ask him why he knows how period blood smells)

Though, why,? why did he detect the unmistakable scent of blood in this vicinity? With a sense of trepidation, Satoru moved closer to her door, and the repugnant odor grew exponentially more potent.

"[Name]?" he called out, hearing some faint sound of hitting something.

"The main event's gonna start in an hour, hurry up f'me, 'kay? I'm tired of meetin' and greetin' those shitty people" satoru said bluntly and loudly but he didn't receive any response.

His brows slightly furrowed.

"[Name]?" he called out again.

But like before, she didn't respond. This wasn't like [Name] and satoru was getting worried.

Forgoing the traditional courtesy of knocking, he forcefully swung open the door, and his blue eyes widened at the horrifying sight that awaited him; blood splatters adorned the walls and coated the floor.

What. The. Fuck. ​​​​​

Satoru was flabbergasted.

[Name]'s dress were messy, her hair was dishevelled and she was covered in blood from head to toe as she relentlessly punched the lifeless body in front of her. The intense force of her blows had caused her knuckles to appear disfigured, as if the skin had melted away. The Phalangeal bones were now exposed, glistening with a mixture of her own blood and that of her father's. (Though, satoru still doesn't know who the corpse was)

Drops of sweat mingled with the crimson liquid as they trickled down her trembling figure. Satoru, observing the scene, was shocked by the sight of his sister wearing such a deranged expression, consumed by an overwhelming wave of fury.

"[Name].." he whispered.

This individual before Satoru did not resemble his younger sister in any way. Instead, this woman appeared to be completely deranged. However, there was no denying the fact that she was indeed his little sister. She had clearly reached her breaking point. Satoru was not accustomed to this behavior. She was always calm. So laid back and rarely gives a fuck... but now... She looked to be in rage.

Finally, satoru snapped out of his dumbfounded state.

"[Name], stop it, brother's here now, no need to be violent,"

Satoru quickly rushed towards her, immediately pulling her by the waist, and away from the lifeless body of their father.

"Calm down, [Name], your satoru is here..." he breathed out as he tightened his grip on her and buried his head on her shoulders.

However, [Name] struggled fiercely in his grip, kicking and thrashing about in a wild manner, [Name] doesn't even care that she was hurting satoru and was dedicated in solely destroying that abomination of a father.

"Let me go. I'll kill him. I swear, I'll kill him!!" She clenched her jaw.

Ah, so the corpse was a man then. Satoru noted, trying to keep calm. He can hear that her words were filled with such madness that it was as if she had completely lost her sanity.

"Fuck off, Gojo Satoru. You know nothing. I'm gonna fucking kill him." [Name] stated coldly and satoru winced when she called him by her full name.

"Look, [Name], he's already dead, so stop fucking around and calm the fuck down." satoru retorted.

"Fuck off, Satoru. Let me go. I am going to murder him."

She continued to flail around pathetically, and unfortunately for satoru, limitless isn't working because he was Technically holding her, thus, meaning that she could punch him.

"That hurts."

he said as he had endured a painful punch to his jaw. In that moment, he could even see the movement of her bones within her hand, for her flesh on her hands had almost melted away from her relentless punching of the corpse.

"Calm the fuck down-" Satoru tried to say but [Name] elbowed him in the gut, making him grunt.

"Damn it, Snap out of it, lady!" Satoru finally snapped, hugging [Name] more tightly and forcibly pulling her away from inflicting further harm upon the lifeless body.

"Shut the fuck up [Name], stop moving!"

The corpse lay before them, drenched in blood, its face barely recognizable, with only raw flesh remaining in place of skin.

"Who the hell even is that?" he grumbled, trying to regain his composure.

"I'll kill him, I'll kill him..." she repeated persistently, her eyes now welled up with tears as they streamed down her face. Satoru buried his face into the nape of her neck, even though it had many blood but he attempted to console her.

"He's already dead, calm down," Satoru reassured her, not giving any importance to the deceased person. [Name] stiffened and satoru continued.

"He's dead already girl, look." he urged her to look at the corpse.

"Dead as hell, look at him sis, disfigured and everythin', and you're the one who did it,"

By the way satoru was speaking, it was obvious that he was somewhat amazed that his sister had managed to take someone's life.

"See? He's not moving at all, you already killed him, pretty girl." satoru said and he couldn't help but acknowledge that her methods may have been excessively brutal. Nonetheless, it was clear that the person had done something to provoke her reaction, as [Name] wouldn't have snapped without any reason. She was always calm, patient and laid back after all and she was mostly apathetic. But... Something probably caused her to snap.

This was precisely why Satoru intervened-to prevent her from descending into madness. He doesn't care that [Name] killed a person. If she was on the right state right now then he wouldn't have interfered and let him murder the shit out of that man. But no, she was on a delusional state. And was obviously relying on instincts right now.

"See, beautiful?" Satoru gently coaxed and [Name] nodded.

"You should calm down"

"He is already dead, he is dead, you know, dead like the protagonist of your favorite book..." he repeated gently, observing how she gradually ceased her violent struggles within his grip.

Even though her punch had caused him pain, he knew that her current state of mind was not in the right place. She was likely still trapped within her delusional state.

"He's dead now," Satoru reiterated once again, taking a moment to wipe away her tears and some of the blood staining her face. "So calm down f'me, 'kay?" he murmurs.

"Take a deep breath, [Name]," Satoru said, placing a hand on her blood-smudged cheek and tenderly stroking it, not caring that his hand was getting smeared with blood.

"That's it... sweetie... breathe," he requested softly, noticing that she was slowly starting to calm down.

"Inhale and exhale..."

Satoru's gaze shifted towards [Name], noticing a gradual reduction in her distress. "mmm, yeah, just like that. Breathe, imouto..."

In an attempt to establish a closer connection, he gently tilted her head, bringing their faces level with one another.

"You've been through some things ain't you?"

As he observed her tear-stained face, he couldn't help but notice the blood that had splattered across her body, some of which had also tainted his formal suit.

"Yes..." she replied, panting heavily.

[Name], seeking solace, enveloped Satoru in an embrace, burying her head in the safety of his chest, her breath gradually returning to a more steady rhythm.

"Been through a lot of bullshit."

Her hand involuntarily twitched, a consequence of the excruciating pain caused by the melted skin on her knuckles.

'All because you are late.' She added mentally as her jaw locked.

Trying to make sense of the distressing scene, Satoru's eyes gravitated towards the disfigured and unrecognizable remains of their father, which lay discarded in a corner of [Name]'s room. The overpowering stench of blood permeated the air, rendering it nearly impossible to ignore and evoking feelings of repulsion.

"What happened, darlin'?" he questioned.

[Name] scoffed dismissively as she started recounting her traumatic experience to Satoru. Her words flowed out without any hint of emotion, as if she was reciting a script.

"I killed him," she stated matter-of-factly, her voice devoid of any remorse.

"I gouged his eyes out, stabbed him in the eye with a hairpin, and Attacked him with a chair and my fists." [Name]'s eyes lacked any spark, resembling the lifeless gaze of a doll.

"Brutal," he murmurs, feeling proud of [Name] for being able to do such things without even having a cursed energy.

"It started when i was preparing for the party," she added

"Then Otou-sama entered my room," she muttered

Satoru's eye twitched as his expression turned into a mix of confusion and anger. He whispered in disbelief, questioning,

"That's the geezer?" He gazed at the lifeless body and then at [Name].

"He touched me, Satoru." she mumbled, her once vibrant [E/c] eyes now clouded with desolation. Satoru felt a chill run down his spine as his ocean blue eyes widened and a visible vein appeared on his forehead. Attempting to comprehend the gravity of the situation, his face darkened, and an icy aura enveloped the room. A pulsating vein throbbed on Satoru's neck as he tightened his hold on his sister.

"He touched you..." satoru repeated.

[Name] nodded.

"He tried to rape me, Satoru," she confessed, raising her head slightly to meet his gaze, which remained silent and motionless. Satoru's immobility was hauntingly unsettling given the circumstances. He was scarily stagnant.

"He said that it was my fault, and that i was begging for it and i was showing myself off like some whore," she shared, her gaze now averted.

"Surely, it is only natural for me to defend myself, right? right? right, Satoru?" [Name] pleaded, her eyes silently begging for understanding and validation. Sighing softly, Satoru gently removed [Name]'s hand from his body, grasping it delicately in his own.

"Yes...he deserved it," Satoru murmured softly, not daring to break eye contact with her.

"Look at what happened to your beautiful hands, they are now scarred...you should have allowed me to take care of it," he expressed, a subtle sense of pride concealed beneath his words. He embraced [Name]'s act of parricide, seeing it as a testament to her strength and ability to protect herself. However, his worry for her well-being persisted.

As Satoru surveyed the sight of exposed bones and blood on [Name]'s fingers, he repeated his conviction.

"He deserved it," he reinforced,

"He deserved it." Repeating this assertion, Satoru cupped [Name]'s face tenderly, emphasizing that the deceased had deliberately presented himself as an object of scorn and derision.

"He showed himself off to you like he was some training dummy, ready to be pummeled," he said.

"And obviously, you couldn't resist it. What on earth was he even wearing?" he inquired, a slight laughter escaping his lips.

"Either way,"

"He was definitely asking for it."

Caressing his sister's face gently, satoru let out a small sigh as he looked at [Name]. Blood stains were present on his fingers, and his clothing absorbed the liquid that had come into contact with him when he was hugging his sister. The fabric greedily absorbed the blood, resembling a parched leech desperately craving sustenance and drawing it in.

"Let's clean up this mess before anyone lays their pesky eyes on it, yeah?" stated Satoru, his face twisted in a mixture of revulsion and disdain as he glanced at the lifeless body. This repugnant individual and pathetic excuse of a father harbored the audacity to covet his own daughter, thus deserving the fate that befell him. Satoru's seething anger extended to their abusive father, whom he yearned to subject to torturous punishment for his heinous actions.

"Let's keep this a secret, i'm proud of you, [Name]."

[Name] remained silent for a moment, agreeing with a nod that they should clean up the mess. However, [Name] looked at Satoru with a puzzled expression, her face devoid of any emotion.

"You don't care at all"

[Name] blurted out randomly, causing Satoru to raise an eyebrow in surprise. "What?"

"You don't care at all."

[Name] bit her lip.

"No, i do care for you." Satoru asserted, his warm breath caressing her cheek, causing a shiver to run down her spine as he leaned close to her, making her flinch visibly.

"Like, a lot." He added, pretending to not notice her discomfort and she shook her head, dissatisfied with his interpretation as she pulled back a little and tried to put distance between them. She didn't meant it that way, she meant that he does not care that she had killed their own father.

"That's not what I meant,"

She had not expected such a reaction from Satoru, nor did she anticipate him taking pride in her actions of killing someone, especially their own father. [Name] was aware of Satoru's disdain towards their family, but his nonchalant attitude towards murder unsettled her for inexplicable reasons. It made him appear... Insane.

Certainly, without fail, Satoru would constantly affirm his willingness to obliterate their entire clan solely for her sake. However, [Name] always viewed this declaration as mere jest, which allowed her to engage in conversations about murder with him in a carefree manner, even exchanging playful remarks... But from how satoru was acting right now, it seems like he's serious about it.... And all those death threat was probably serious too. He's the strongest, and he can wipe their entire clan out, and he probably will too.

"You've misunderstood my words..." she mumbled, [E/c] eyes narrowing slightly.

"Then," Satoru began.

"Why?"

"You don't understand..." [Name] conveyed again, her tone carrying a hint of severity, while her gaze grew sharper, indicating her mounting worry. In return, Satoru mirrored her expression of confusion, unable to grasp the full significance of the current circumstance.

"I killed Otou-sama." [Name] said, her fingers covered in a deep shade of red liquid. As she tried to contain her emotions, her quivering hand formed a firm grip, resulting in her nails penetrating the already swollen skin of her palm. This infliction left behind visible evidence of the immense torment and anguish she was enduring.

"And you don't even seem to care," she continued, her voice filled with a hint of disbelief. Satoru responded with an exaggerated gesture of rolling his eyes, expressing his indifference as he placed a hand on his hip sassily. With a grave demeanor, he confidently declared,

"He absolutely deserved it, i mean, he tried to take advantage of you." Satoru's ocean blue eyes narrowed and grew more concentrated, while his jaw clenched with a hint of restraint.

"Don't you try and make an excuse for what he has done, i know how your mind works girl. Don't be guilty." Satoru stated seriously.

[Name] was filled with confusion.

"Me? Guilty?"

She expressed disbelief by shaking her head, strongly denying any sense of guilt.

"No i do not feel guilty," she uttered softly.

"Not even a little bit."

[Name] confidently affirmed. Though, At first, she had anticipated a tumultuous emotional reaction, expecting to break down after committing the act of killing her father. However, to her surprise, she found herself maintaining a calm and emotionless state-she doesn't care and felt nothing about it. There was a profound emptiness within her, completely void of any feelings of regret, satisfaction, or any other emotion for that matter. She felt as though she were an empty cocoon, hollow and without any substance.

Satoru let out a sigh of frustration, his breath escaping in a visible cloud of discontent. He extended his hand, pointing it towards the motionless body as he summoned some sort of bluish flame that swiftly engulfed the ugly coprse.

Observing this gruesome spectacle, [Name] winced and her face contorted in sheer disgust, her eyebrows knitting together in an expression of repulsion. She couldn't tear her eyes away from the sight as the flames relentlessly consumed the corpse, revealing the grotesque bones beneath the blistering and melting skin. The process felt unbearably long, although in reality, it only took a mere 12 seconds for the lifeless remains to turn into ashes.

Standing upright, Satoru began unbuttoning his suit, peeling it off his body and tossing it into the fire nonchalantly, leaving him in only a tank top that pretty much looked tight because it's showing off his biceps, chest and abs, though, it was obvious that his actions were driven by the presence of bloodstains in his suit.

However, before he could proceed to unbuckle his belt, [Name] impeded his progress, her intervention leaving her visibly bewildered.

"What on earth are you doing?" [Name] inquired, her voice laced with bewilderment and a touch of disbelief, However, a notable sense of fear was evident in her voice as she visibly recoiled upon witnessing his actions. A lump promptly developed in her throat, causing her to gulp heavily, while her fingers instinctively curled against her palms once again.

"Don't you fucking dare... what the hell are you doing?!" she exclaimed, her voice rising in a tense and trembling voice, her eyes widening with a palpable feeling of apprehension.

Satoru rolled his eyes, his hands still resting on his belt, as he casually replied, not noticing the fear in her voice and her tense body language

"Obviously, I'm burning the clothes. And you should consider taking off your dress too, so we can get rid of the blood and avoid any potential trouble.

[Name] was taken aback by Satoru's words, causing her [E/c] eyes to widen with a mixture of fear and anger-all the calmness and emptiness in her slowly leaving her.

This response mirrored the way she felt when her father attempted to sexually assault her, evoking deep-seated memories of that traumatic event. The proposition of removing her dress was met with an immediate refusal. No fucking way would she take it off.

Despite recognizing the importance of destroying her clothes to erase any evidence of her father's murder and enhance her chances of evading detection, she found herself unable to comply.

What if satoru tries to assault her too? What if satoru-, no... Satoru would never.

She reminded herself.

Raising an eyebrow, Satoru's unwavering stare remained locked on [Name].

"Why aren't you taking it off?" he asked nonchalantly, his tone betraying the intensity of his gaze.

"You nervous or something?"

" I've seen you naked countless times, and we've even showered together like 20 times, what's there to be embarrassed about?"

Embarrassment washed over [Name] like a sudden wave, instantly coloring her cheeks in a vibrant shade of crimson and a sweat trickled down her forehead, mingling with the blood as her blood ran cold at his words.

"Shut up!" she exclaimed, her voice tinged with frustration, and cracking slightly with undeniable fear. "This is different! We were just kids back then!" she said, her jaw set tight and her brows drawing together. Satoru continued to observe her, feeling confused.

"So? Does that change anything?" he asked dumbly, his voice dripping with nonchalance, seemingly unfazed by the idea of undressing in front of his sister. ,

"Yes, it does!" she stated assertively, her voice carrying an undeniable conviction-She doesn't want to see him like that, she wouldn't have mind it if the incident with that pig didn't happen, but no, it happened. And [Name] doesn't want to do anything with men for now.

Although she is unsure of the reason behind it, there is a nagging feeling inside her that suggests Satoru might try to take advantage of her just like her father did. And she wouldn't be able to do anything about it.

Because...

Satoru is the strongest.

However, she strongly believes that Satoru would never harm her in any way and that he would always be there to shield her from any harm. Nevertheless, her perspective shifted after the incident involving her father, causing her to no longer perceive Satoru's actions as purely platonic and sibling affection. His affectionate words of calling her pretty, hugging her, didn't made her feel comfort like it usually does... now... it sent shivers down her spine and evoke a repulsive sensation on her skin.

•───癖好───•

Suguru tapped on his cheek while gazing out the window, with a pencil in his hand. The darkness of night enveloped the surroundings, amplifying the sense of tranquility in the air.

As it was summer break, Suguru found himself with a surplus of free time and a lack of activities to engage in.

Directing his attention downwards, Suguru observed the soft glow of the light in his lamp illuminating the paper on which he was engrossed in writing a poem. It was a mere preliminary sketch, as he planned to embellish it further with the finesse of calligraphy and a fountain pen.

Succumbing to boredom, Suguru allowed his mind to wander and began to doodle on the upper portion of the paper. Upon completing the impromptu artwork, he tilted his head in introspection, realizing that the features he had unintentionally drawn bore a striking resemblance to someone he had encountered in the past.

A sense of curiosity washed over Suguru as he feverishly attempted to recall the identity of this mysterious figure. In a sudden moment of clarity, it dawned upon him-the idiosyncratic girl. Deep in contemplation, he pondered how she must be faring at present, and he hoped that she was doing well, after all, she's pretty nice, and he respected nice people!

Another thing, is that Suguru had refrained from seeking confirmation from Satoru if she really was his sister or cousin. After all, satoru surely wouldn't hide it from him if he had siblings, would he?

Reflecting upon his interactions with the idiosyncratic girl, Suguru fondly remembered the sweets she had gifted him. These treats had a distinct flavor, not overly saccharine like typical candies. Although he harbored no disdain for sugary confections, Suguru simply preferred a more mild sweetness. Comparatively, the taste of curses, the malicious forces he encountered in his line of work, resembled nothing short of a repulsive rag used to clean up vomit.

Another thing, is that suguru kept the bloodstained handkerchied with him.

Despite having the option to clean or discard the bloodstained handkerchief he used to wipe the blood from her lips, he inexplicably chose to hold onto it.

"I wonder how Gojo-san is doing..."

Suguru softly murmured to himself, questioning the well-being of [Name] while he resumed his drawing. He then skillfully added intricate details to the drawing-from the curve of her neck, the smoothness of her eyelids, and even the subtle nuances in her eyes and her eyelashes.

A soft hum of satisfaction escaped his lips as he finally finished the drawing. It was a detailed drawing of that idiosyncratic girl he was intrigued about; Gojo [Name].

Suguru then rose from his chair, letting out a sleepy yawn. And instead of crumpling the paper and tossing it into the trashcan as he normally would, Suguru's actions took an unexpected turn. He retrieved a pin and carefully affixed the drawing of [Name] to his pinboard, the very place where he stored his daily schedules, important activities, and cherished memories-like the photograph of him and Satoru.

•───癖好───•

ATTEMPTING TO MASK HER uneasiness, [Name] made an effort to try to look calm, she mustered up a smile upon meeting the guests, yet she was combating an overwhelming nauseous sensation. Evidently, it appeared that these particular individuals were oblivious to the notion of maintaining proper boundaries when it comes to personal space. The Gojo clan's non-sorcerer member was constantly subjected to unwanted attention, as the guests repeatedly touched her as if they haven't seen a non-sorcerer their whole life. However, satoru being the very normal and protective (overbearing) brother he was, shooed them away.

They were currently positioned in the heart of the party where a wide array of delicious food was laid out. The atmosphere hummed with conversations among the crowd, some of whom attempted to approach them, only to be dismissed by Satoru once again. Immersed in vibrant and loud music and surrounded by culinary delights from both Western, Eastern cuisines and many more.

Though, It was evident that the appearance of a non-sorcerer among the esteemed Gojo clan astonished each guest, yet they hesitated to voice their thoughts, presumably out of fear because the holder of the six eyes and limitless is there.

[Name] felt an overwhelming sense of discomfort due to the constant and unwelcome physical contact she was subjected to. She yearned for nothing more than to free herself from this distressing situation. Her hurried application of makeup was apparent as her eyeliner had smudged slightly, and due to lack of time, she hadn't been able to add glitter to her eyeshadow.

Additionally, her hair cascaded loosely around her shoulders, lacking any semblance of styling and appearing untidy. For her outfit, she had chosen a plain white corset embellished with intricate designs, which she had coordinated with a blazer and a white skirt.

To conceal the melted skin on her knuckles, she had slipped on a pair of gloves, ensuring her injured hands remained discreet. Luckily, Satoru managed to tend to all of her wounds fastly and got rid of all the evidence of the murder.

As a result, [Name] finds herself somewhat relieved, as the possibility of being apprehended diminishes. bandages were wrapped around her hands prior to wearing the gentle, protective gloves, providing an additional safeguard against infection for the wounds.

Though, despite [Name]'s efforts, doubt lingered in her mind, questioning if her overall appearance was truly presentable. To make matters worse, the memory of her recent act of killing her own father haunted her. It had taken place mere moments ago, leaving a disturbingly vivid imprint in her mind.

And to make matters worse, Satoru has his hand positioned his hand on her waist, his digits caressing her skin, leading to an unpleasant sensation that sent a chilling shiver down her spine.

In an attempt to regain her composure, she swallowed hard, suppressing the growing lump in her throat, all the while feeling tiny droplets of sweat forming on her forehead.

Satoru noticed her obvious unease and he leaned closer, his voice now a hushed murmur against [Name]'s ear.

"[Name],"

The sound of her own name escaping his lips sent anotuer chilling sensation down her spine, causing her body to instinctively react with a surge of tension. Every muscle in her body involuntarily tightened and she could feel her heart beating so fast.

"You okay?" he inquired, his breath gently caressing her delicate complexion, resulting in a slight flinch. Feeling a surge of discomfort, [Name] winced as she found herself engulfed by a wave of emotions due to Satoru's close presence.

"I'm fine... Just feeling anxious," she managed to say. Although she indeed felt anxious about the possibility of embarrassing herself, her greatest fear revolved around Satoru's excessively affectionate conduct. Previously, his touch had provided her solace and comfort, but presently, it evoked a profound discomfort in her.

"Don't be anxious," Satoru's gentle murmur resonated in the air, prompting a slight drooping of her shoulders and a puzzled knitting of her brows.

"I'm here and I'll protect you..." he assured her.

"I suppose that you're right..." she acknowledged.

"I shouldn't.." she added. Overwhelmed with thoughts and concerns, she realized that there was no need for excessive worry.

"You're here with me and you'll protect me, yeah?" she repeated satoru's previous words while satoru nodded enthusiastically.

"Yeah!"

Satoru plucked a piece of mochi, and popped it on his mouth, relishing its delectable taste and swallowed. He then took another one and extended it towards [Name] with a grin, encouraging her to try it. "Y'should try this pretty girl, it's tasty"

[Name]'s eyes went downwards towards satoru's hand on her waist again before she responded with a strained smile and agreed, "Okay... I'll give it a taste." However, just as she reached for the mochi, Satoru impulsively took a bite out of it, before taking another bite. "Just makin' sure that it isn't poisoned"

He delighted in the taste once again, finally gulping down the entire mochi. [Name] gawked, feeling a sense of offense at his actions.

"Satoru!" she whined, her tone carrying a hint of exasperation.

"Safe. 'ts not poisoned." Satoru acknowledged with approval, before grabbing another mochi and delicately placing it in the corner of [Name]'s mouth.

"Open up," Satoru urged gently,

"let me take care of ya." He flashed her a charming smile, though , for some reasons, it creeped her out. [Name] shot him a piercing glare, fully aware that Satoru was obsessed on the idea of being the one to look after her. The situation felt unsettling, evoking a sense of creepiness that she couldn't quite shake off.

[Name] pried apart her lips, allowing Satoru to place the delectable mochi within her mouth. Almost instantaneously, she began to masticate on the soft rice cake, savoring its texture and flavor, before swallowing it down her throat.

"Good girl." Satoru said as if [Name] is a child.

[Name] chose to ignore that and her [E/c] eyes then veered downwards, tracing the path of his hands, which remained securely positioned on her waist.

"Satoru... i think that you should-" She started expressing her unease, on the verge of proposing that Satoru release his grip on her, but just as she was about to complete her statement, an individual abruptly intervened, silencing her mid-sentence.

"[NAME]-CHAN!! MY LITTLE STARLING POOKIE DOOKIE WOOKIE BEAR!!!" an excited voice from a woman exclaimed with great enthusiasm, a woman that is tall, probably around 6'2 (187 cm) was beaming at [Name]. She had long white hair that is let loose and it goes down her waist. Her eyes were dark, just like two pools of ink, a contrast to her complexion that is quite pale.

Her attire consisted of a sleeveless cropped top in a black shade, accentuated by a belly chain and the exposed skin she has revealed some battle scars and some tattoos. Completing her ensemble, she wore a pair of black colored ripped jeans, perfectly cinched with a stylish belt. The heeled combat boots she had on added a touch of edginess to her overall appearance. (Yes, all black and gothic) Notably, she had a belt adorned with additional straps that secured a katana. And compare to all the other guests who is dressed formally, this woman was dressed as if she had just emerged from a war.

And this very familiar woman seemed to annoy satoru.

"Taiyohime."

Satoru exclaimed, hostility evident in his voice as his previous mood immediately changing and his eye twitched when [Name] was unexpectedly seized by her forearm and fot dragged away from him. [Name] emitted a surprised yelp, taken aback as she suddenly found herself embraced in a comforting, affectionate hug, with her face inadvertently nestled within Taiyohime's boobs.

"T-taiyohime-nee?" [Name] exhaled, attempting to distance herself from Taiyohime's ample bosom. Gazing upwards towards Taiyohime, she found solace in her gentle caress, a stark contrast to the discomfort she experienced whenever being touched by Satoru (at the moment) or by anyone else.

"The one and only!" Taiyohime exclaimed joyfully upon hearing [Name] mention her name. she hugged [Name] even tighter, causing [Name] to wince slightly due to the force while satoru glared at them.

Ignoring satoru's disapproving look, Taiyohime beamed and asked,

"Mmmh...Missed y'so much..! [Name]-chan!" With an exaggerated and dramatic sniff, Taiyohime pressed her face against [Name]'s cheeks, her grip around [Name] tightening all the while.

Satoru's expression shifted towards annoyance as he directed a glare at the two women, questioning Taiyohime's sudden presence.

"Why are you here...?"

However, Taiyohime paid no attention to Satoru's irritation and instead kept her entire focus solely on [Name].

"Did you miss me? [Name]-chan?"

"Yeah. I missed you... It's been years."

[Name] responded with a smile, In that moment, all the previous uneasiness vanished from [Name]'s mind as they focused solely on her cherished reunion with Taiyohime.

"Aww!!! I missed you too!"

With delight painted across her face, Taiyohime reveled in [Name]'s affectionate embrace, using the opportunity to taunt satoru with a smug gaze. She winked at satoru, her grin filled with mockery towards satoru, as if saying; 'Your sister is mine now.'

A wave of irritation washed over Satoru as his eye twitched with annoyance, resulting in a scowl forming on his countenance as he stared at taiyohime angrily.

"You are so cute, [Name]!"

Taiyohime's voice was filled with girlish excitement as she couldn't contain her admiration for [Name], Her words were accompanied by her hands squeezing [Name]'s cheek. [Name], feeling a slight discomfort, let out a small whine.

"Taiyohime-nee, don't do that."

Taiyohime shrugged but released her grip on [Name]'s cheeks.

"Sorry, starling, I just can't help it! You are just so cute..."

"unlike some certain individuals here..." Taiyohime's eyes narrowed with a tinge of disdain as she shifted her gaze in Satoru's direction, subtly directing her dissatisfaction towards him.

"I'm flattered then." [Name] stated with a smile, not noticing taiyohime's glare on satoru.

"You're implying something, aren't you?"

Satoru's annoyance was clearly evident as he tilted his head and cracked his knuckles in a gesture that exuded frustration.

The atmosphere grew tense, causing [Name] to feel a sense of unease.

With a hint of amusement in her voice, Taiyohime replied to Satoru's questioning.

"Am i?" She laughed.

"But maybe yes... But still, I'm disappointed that you think i was insinuating something."

Taiyohime shook her head.

"I expected better,"

Taiyohime pulled [Name] closer to her, resting her head on top of [Name]'s and gently stroking [Name]'s [H/c] hair with her fingers, she placed her other hand on [Name]'s waist, causing their bodies to be pressed against each other in a embrace. Taiyohime couldn't help but direct a smug smirk in Satoru's direction and It was clear that Taiyohime was trying to get under Satoru's skin.

"Release her." Satoru demanded coldly and Taiyohime shook her head.

"Nah uh," Taiyohime retorted back, black colored eyes narrowing in annoyance and [Name] could feel the atmosphere getting cold.

"Calm down satoru-" [Name] tried to say but she was cut off when satoru forcefully pulled her away from taiyohime.

"Satoru!" [Name] let out a small gasp. "That's rude!" [Name] scolded, feeling taiyohime's glare in their direction.

"No, she had her filthy hands all over you," Satoru exclaimed, his voice filled with indignation.

"Seriously, You need to stop acting so childish, you're not a little kid anymore," [Name] finally snapped at Satoru and she yanked herself out of his grip, catching him off guard. The words stung Satoru's heart, but he quickly justified [Name]'s behavior by reminding himself of the recent trauma and fear she had experienced.

Yes, that's right. [Name] wasn't in the right mind, after all, she would never disobey him or replace him with someone else. Satoru told himself mentally.

Feeling frustrated, Satoru let out an irritated sigh and crossed his arms, shooting a glare at Taiyohime. He couldn't help but wonder if she had said something to provoke [Name]'s outburst. Determined to protect his sister's 'innocence' and Satoru made a mental note to keep Taiyohime at a distance.

"Hmph. so you haven't changed at all then." Taiyohime grumbled, her frustration evident as she crossed her arms.

"And so have you." Satoru retorted.

"But as the saying goes, once a brat always remains a brat," Taiyohime remarked, her glare directed at Satoru. The disapproval in her eyes made [Name] frown in disagreement.

"Taiyohime-nee, don't be mean. Satoru is not a brat," [Name] defended him, her voice filled with sincerity. (Even though satoru is obviously a brat)

Taiyohime expressed her dissatisfaction with [Name]'s disagreement regarding Satoru not being a brat. In her eyes, Satoru's bratty nature is well-known and acknowledged by everyone. Even at school, some students, like Utahime, hold negative feelings towards Satoru.

Satoru, feeling triumphant, responded with a condescending and mocking smirk towards Taiyohime.

"You spoil him far too much, starling" Taiyohime exclaimed with a hint of exasperation, rolling her eyes in the process.

"Look at what he has become due to all of your excessive spoiling-a spoiled and petty brat." Taiyohime huffed as she grabbed [Name]'s wrist, trying to pull the latter towards her, but satoru immediately grabbed [Name]'s other hand, preventing the woman from getting what she wanted.

"Wow, coming from the embodiment of pettiness, that's quite a statement." Satoru retorted, his grip on [Name] tightening. However, taiyohime refused to yield and continued to tug [Name] back whenever Satoru attempted to pull her away. The situation escalated to the point where it resembled a competitive game of tug-of-war, with [Name] being the unfortunate rope caught in the middle.

Many onlookers at the party couldn't help but stare, feeling a mixture of confusion and discomfort witnessing one adult and one 17 yearsold teenager that both stands in six feet engage in such childlike behavior over [Name].

The two of them were arguing and [Name] was trying to stop them but they just ignored her to the point that [Name] decided to give up in trying to convince them that fighting is futile.

"-Go and fuck yourself with your brother!"

Satoru hissed.

"No fuckin' way. Since you're a boy, why don't you do your little shitty playdates with caelum instead?" Taiyohime remarked amidst the ongoing argument and struggle over [Name]. Overwhelmed and consumed by the constant pulling, [Name] started to feel nauseous and her body grew sore, as if she were a mere ragdoll being tossed around.

"Excuse me-" Satoru began to speak, only to be interrupted by taiyohime who dismissively retorted, "You are not excused."

Satoru's patience grew thin as he retorted,

"You have your own sibling! Stop trying to steal what's mine!" In a fit of frustration, he tugged forcefully on [Name], inadvertently pulling both taiyohime and [Name] closer towards him. Taiyohime gasped and retaliated by glaring at Satoru and pulling [Name] towards her own direction

"You don't deserve her!"

"I swear, if you don't release [Name] this instant, I'll super glue your eyelids together!" Satoru exclaimed, ignoring the curious and weirded out gaze of the spectators.

"Shut up! My tsuka is bigger than your dick!"

•───癖好───•

Satoru felt perspiration forming on his forehead as he gently patted [Name]'s back, witnessing with concern as [Name] uncontrollably expelled the contents of her stomach onto the ground.

Regrettably, due to the vigorous tugging exerted by Satoru and Taiyohime, [Name] experienced a profound feeling of nausea that ultimately led to this unpleasant occurrence. Fortunately, [Name] displayed presence of mind and quickly rushed outside the premises just in time to release the contents of their stomach. Satoru gently patted her back while Taiyohime hurriedly went to fetch a glass of water for her.

"Sorry..." Satoru expressed remorse as [Name] coughed and clutched her chest, feeling the burning sensation of stomach acid mixed with vomit in her throat. The intense discomfort extended to her chest and lungs, causing her to wheeze for air.

"It's all that filthy toe nail eater's fault!" Satoru exclaimed in frustration, using a tissue to wipe away the remnants of vomit from [Name]'s lips.

"Don't say that, nii-chan," [Name] replied softly, her voice hoarse from the continuous bouts of vomiting.

"Taiyohime-nee is kind and beautiful," [Name] defended, shaking her head.

"Don't you dare defend that misshapen creature, girl." Satoru retorted, his bratty behavior irking [Name] further. While Taiyohime is a brat too, Satoru's brattiness was on a whole different level, so in short, Satoru is a high-key brat.

"Besides, why are you even having connection with taiyohime huh? She's our cousin and you are supposed to hate our whole family except for me."

"You are supposed to hate taiyohime." Satoru staged, emphasizing his point as his light blue eyes darkening and he looked frightening, sending a shiver down [Name]'s spine.

"Taiyohime-nee is different from them. I don't hate her."

Her response seemed to trigger satoru.

"No, no. Taiyohime is just like those bird-brained people."

"You only need your brother, girl. You don't need that deformed goblin." Satoru declared.

"You only need your nii-chan, you don't need others, just me, myself and i." Satoru emphasized, tilting [Name]'s chin upwards to meet his gaze.

"You understand that I'm the only one you truly need, don't you?" Satoru inquired, but before [Name] could respond, Taiyohime intervened, yelling at Satoru.

"Hey! You butterfaced jerk! You're freaking her out! Get those grubby hands of yours away from her!" Taiyohime snarled, striding quickly towards them with two glasses of water in her hands. Satoru released [Name]'s chin and glared at Taiyohime, indicating that another argument was about to unfold.

"This is all your fault," Satoru gritted through his teeth as he observed Taiyohime handing a glass of water to [Name].

"Stop picking fights nii-chan, and Taiyohime-nee, please just ignore him," [Name] muttered, not wanting to deal with the both of them, and took a sip of her water.

"No, this is your fault. You should have let me have her, even just for today," Taiyohime grumbled, disregarding [Name]'s plea.

"No way, she's mine." Satoru asserted, his possessiveness irritating Taiyohime, leading her to attempt splashing water on Satoru using the remaining glass. However, limitless prevented him from getting wet, causing the water to spill onto the floor instead.

"Bastard." he muttered.

"Asshole." Taiyohime huffed.

"Enough already, both of you." [Name] exclaimed in frustration, glancing at the empty glass in Taiyohime's hand as she let out a loud harrumph. Satoru responded by rolling his eyes and crossing his arms defiantly.

"You both are all grown up now, so start acting like it." [Name] sighed heavily.

"Satoru, stop instigating fights with Taiyohime. And Taiyohime, quit intentionally trying to provoke Satoru."

[Name] admonished them both.

Satoru grumbled dismissively, muttering, "Whatever," while Taiyohime let out another huff and averted her gaze.

"Seriously, you two need to work on your anger management." [Name] stated firmly, her voice tinged with concern. Taiyohime responded by rolling her eyes, clearly uninterested, while Satoru chose to ignore [Name]'s advice.

"Allowing anger to control you won't lead to anything positive, and it's not fair to constantly direct your frustrations towards each other, Anger is detrimental for both mental and physical well-being as it not only results in negative effects on our appearance, such as wrinkles, but it can also drive individuals to commit violent acts, including murder. " [Name] continued, delving into a more philosophical and scientific perspective.

Taiyohime seemed to be touched at [Name]'s speech while Satoru was irritated by the sudden shift in topic. And before [Name] could continue her monologue, satoru interjected with a sarcastic remark.

"Shut up Socrates," Satoru retorted, earning a sharp glare from [Name].

"Fucking hell,"

[Name] showed signs of frustration as she slouched her shoulders and let out a tired sigh. She placed her hand on her forehead, still feeling the burning sensation in her throat.

"You are annoying, onii-chan. you know that?" [Name] expressed her annoyance towards Satoru. Satoru simply shrugged.

"You love me." he stated confidently. [Name] nodded in agreement, but couldn't help but feel a sense of unease and she mentally scolded herself for such thoughts.

Taiyohime's reaction was one of strong disgust as she gazed upon the sight, prompting her to express her disgust with the word "Ew."

"I feel bad for you, starling. Imagine loving a dude that looks like a naked Mole-Rat."

Satoru swiftly reacted to Taiyohime's remark without any hesitation, expressing his annoyance through his tone of voice.

"Nobody cares about your opinion elephant seal."

As [Name] observed this interaction, her eyebrows furrowed in disapproval towards Satoru and Taiyohime's insult towards each other.

"Taiyohime. Satoru." She scolded. However, they paid no attention to her disapproving gaze and carried on with their petty and useless argument.

"-You're not even supposed to be here!"

With a dismissive wave of his hand and a slightly petulant expression on his face, Satoru attempted to shoo Taiyohime away. As [Name] processed this situation, a hint of surprise crossed her face, indicated by the raised eyebrow. It became apparent to [Name] that Taiyohime's presence was not expected or intended to be in this setting.

"Yeah... Taiyohime-nee... Aren't you supposed to be in Canada during the summer break?" [Name] asked curiously. Taiyohime nonchalantly shrugged in response. "I heard it was related to you, [Name]-Chan, so I decided to come here," she stated.

"What do you mean, me?" [Name] inquired, tilting her head in confusion. Both her and Satoru had puzzled looks on their faces, while Taiyohime seemed dumbfounded by their reaction.

"Why do you two look so bewildered?" Taiyohime asked, feeling a bit unnerved. "And Satoru, you look ugly," she added spitefully, causing Satoru's expression to contort in annoyance.

"This is so weird," Taiyohime muttered.

"Aren't you even aware of the agreement between the Gojo clan and that other clan? I don't really know the name of that clan, nor do I care, but seriously, are you two completely oblivious of the arrangement?" Taiyohime questioned both of them.

"They would have informed me if there was any arrangement or whatever," Satoru confidently stated, while [Name] blinked in confusion. "What arrangement?" she asked, hoping for some clarification.

"Uhh" taiyohime averted her gaze away, not knowing how to explain.

"An arranged marriage."

•───癖好───•

-The Gojo Clan will be a weird 'family' in here

-Taiyohime is [Name] and Satoru's older cousin.

-More conflict to come

-The main reason why Taiyohime hates Satoru is because Satoru is rich

-The main reason why Satoru hates Taiyohime is because taiyohime stole his perfume and replaced it with toilet water

-Taiyohime is a girl's girl

-Taiyohime and Satoru is banned from seeing each other when they were kids because the two of them would always fight

-Taiyohime is the one who taught [Name] how to fight and the weak points of a person.

-Taiyohime knows about satoru's sister complex

-[Name] is starting to doubt satoru's intentions and now can see how weird he acts around her.

-Everything about the satoru being a creep thingy is only on [Name]'s point of view.

-They ended up burning their clothes anyways.

-[Name] is starting to develop trust issues.

-Suguru has a poem dedicated for [Name] and it's titled as "Gōjasuna on'nanoko."

-Suguru keeps a satoru plushie with him.

-Satoru was insinuating something to [Name] after he helped her clean up.

-[Name] may have been, or may not have been controlled by something.

-Satoru smelled suguru's scent on [Name] in the past but didn't said anything about it.

-[Name] doesn't feel guilty.

-Suguru kept the candy wrappers with him.

I drew taiyohime and this is how she looks like🙃🙃

[liulith]

Why Vox’ one-sided psychosexual obsession with Alastor is PERFECT for a #radiostatic QPR

This fanwork is an edited version of a comment I wrote for a fic from the 666: Live on Air! Series by @prince-liest You don’t need to know the fic to understand it, though! Just keep in mind that those are headcanons based on a hypothetical established relationship between Alastor and Vox, in which Vox’s obsession for Alastor has changed flavors from hatred to love, and Alastor doesn’t return his feelings but finds his pathetic obsession entertaining, flattering and somewhat cute. (Also, this doesn’t address the past friendship (?) between them that is being hinted at by the photo in S1 finale, since we have zero context for that at the moment)

Why Vox is Like That

My headcanon is that Vox has always been the type to strive for power and recognition, always reaching for the top of the heap. The problem is that he’s too good at it.

Once he gets into whatever position of power he wanted, he gets bored because what he truly likes is fighting his way to the top. Whatever comes after can be enjoyable but it never compares to the “fight” itself – and thus Vox is always left unsatisfied, setting new goals to become even more powerful because *surely*, that’s what will finally bring him the sense of fulfillment he wants.

(We can kinda see it in his introduction. The man looks bored to tears before Alastor waltzes back into his life and turns him into a manic mess! Here’s a tumblr post about it)

This is precisely why I think Hell gave Vox hypnosis powers: the same reason it gave Alastor the body of a prey animal. It’s torture! With those powers, Vox can get almost anything he wants and he hates it. On Earth, people were a challenge; not everyone can be bought, and he had to rely on his skills.

Sure, he still has those skills in Hell; but in Hell, where every sinner is a potential enemy and the exorcists come down once a year, power is key to his survival and he has to take any victory he can get; meaning, he’ll never be able to *not* use his hypnosis powers, not as long as he wants to survive, even if that makes the fight to the top lose its appeal.

[Insert non-existent tangent on how Val not being affected by the hypnosis – because he’s half blind – is a key factor in Vox’ attraction to him]

Why Vox can’t NOT be obsessed with Alastor:

Alastor is powerful enough to resist his mind-control powers. Alastor can’t be swayed by Vox’ influence, his connections, his power, his money. In short, he’s a challenge. Vox needs to earn his attention, needs to work for it.

Thankfully for him, there *is* something Alastor is interested in: his genuine, unguarded, desperate self: the one that has a full manic episode/mental breakdown when he learns Alastor is back in town. The side of him he always hides under layers and layers of confidence, bravado and corporate talk!

And, deep down, that desperate side of him is exactly why he strives for power so hard in the first place. This man is full of insecurities and he NEEDS to be the biggest fish (shark) in the tank.

This means that Alastor is the embodiment of his deepest fears! He sees through all his bullshit, makes him lose all his composure, and is able to destroy him in EVERY WAY that matters. And yet, he doesn’t. Because, he tolerates (likes) him (in the context of this AU) just as he is, patheticness and all :3  I think there’s something very liberating about that.

Plus, Vox is a simp. He’s a manic sado-masochist who gets off on seeing Alastor humiliated and being humiliated himself, he wants Alastor helpless under his claws, wants Alastor to step on him and tear his heart out if that’s the only way Alastor would touch him, wants to have a cutesy dance-off with and make him laugh until his face hurts.

Oh Vox, we’re really in it now

He’s obsessed with Alastor and wants him in any way he can have him – and I think he’d be ready to give himself over to Alastor in any way Alastor wants to have him as well, because as long as it means Alastor wants something *from him*, it’s worth it. Even if it destroys him.

So, in a context where he has experienced Alastor being on friendly terms with him, where Alastor he has seen Alastor’s genuinely smiling at him and handing him the smallest crumb of affection, there’s just no turning back. Yes, he *could* still get off on seeing Alastor hurt because he’s deranged like that, but he doesn’t want it anymore.

or, well. the vicious, demonic part of him does still want to hurt him, but not exactly for the same reasons as before. It’s more of his caged beast of a heart wanting to make its predator pay for ruining it, in a desperate attempt to reduce his pain (at Alastor’s perceived “indifference”), to force Alastor to SEE him (not that he can. Lol).

BUT! he doesn’t need to do that now! Not when there is so much he would have to give up! So many other emotions, reactions he can get out of Alastor, knowing that HE did that!! To Alastor!! Him!! He cares so, so much. He’s the biggest shark in the tank but Alastor is the water around him. I suck at metaphors.

FML: Alastor edition

Hell turned Alastor into a prey animal because he has always felt like one. I think that at his core, he’s never going to get rid of his instinctual mistrust of others and fear of having any exposed vulnerability turned against him, because it’s part of a defense mechanism he developed since childhood.

He grew in Louisiana as a mixed-race* boy (*it's a bit more complicated than that since "Louisiana Creole" is not a racial designation but let's say Alastor is 100% mixed-race with a POC mom in this context), in an era of widespread lynching and racial segregation, at a time where millions of Black Americans migrated to the North because of the horrible socio-economic conditions of the South. Hell, he was alive during the great Mississippi flood of 1927 – the most destructive river flood of the entire history of the US – and he SAW the government refuse to prioritize the safety of the POC who were 75% of the population (literally; “The refugee camps also dealt with extreme racial inequality, as supplies and means of evacuation after flooding were given strictly to white citizens, with Blacks receiving only leftovers. African Americans also did not receive supplies without providing the name of their white employer or voucher from a white person. In order to fully exploit black labor, Blacks were frequently forced to work against their will, and were not permitted to leave the camps.”)

We don’t know if he was white-passing or visibly mixed, or if his white dad was in the picture, but since he only mentions his mother in canon I’m gonna run with the idea that she raised him alone. He seems to have had a positive relationship with her, which may have impacted his relationships with women in general. However, as a Creole woman, his mom couldn’t guarantee his safety in a society that was rigged against her.

So, he grew up learning the world was out to get him, that no one had his back, and that *performance* was key to his continued safety and survival. By performance, I mean learning how to act around white people to appear non-threatening/avoid being reduced to his ancestry/manage to “pass” well enough. But passing too well would also exclude him from his own community, as mixed people often are.

He also learned that despite his best efforts, no matter how competent he could become, some things would always be unfairly inaccessible to him for reasons outside of his control, and he couldn’t stand for it. The quiet rage, the humiliation, he took out on people by becoming a serial killer: permanently excluding “unworthy” people from society, and consuming them to assert his absolute dominance over them.

FML: Alastor edition. Why he would like Vox:

As the Radio Demon, Alastor has more power than he ever craved in his human life. He’s also vulnerable to the exorcists (Adam), to higher demonic powers (Lucifer, etc.) and was put on a leash by a mysterious character (Lilith? Eve? Roo?).

He’s more desperate for control than ever. It’s not that hard in his daily life, since most people (besides Husk and..? idk) don’t know he made a deal, and he can act like his usual confident self. However, it’s a control that is not unconditional, never absolute nor freely given.

And Vox? He’s hopelessly devoted to Alastor. Alastor has the upper hand on him in terms of raw power, but he also has the absolute psychological and emotional upper hand here. Vox is putting his heart and everything he has on the line in a way Alastor would never do in his worst nightmares. Vox is probably the only person who ever *let* Alastor have this much power over them, and Alastor loves to see it.

This, in turn, makes Alastor more willing to show his more vulnerable side, in a way he would never do if he were also in love with Vox imo. Because Vox is “only Vox” to him, and losing Vox wouldn’t destroy him the way it would if he returned Vox’ feelings, he’s paradoxically more likely to get closer to him. Being in love with Vox would make him too vulnerable and I honestly think that if he became that desperately attached, he would kill him in a fit of panicked narcissistic self-preservatory rage, to prove he’s stronger than this. He’d be too scared to have his feelings taken advantage of, and his brained is wired to kill anything that gets in his way.

Having Vox as a friend, however, is just perfect for him! Just the right amount of closeness and connection that enables him to give him his trust, without fearing he’s being blinded by feelings outside of his control. And knowing that Vox wants him *that* desperately but accepts Alastor’s inability and unwillingness to return this love, and is content to be given anything Alastor allows… Well, that’s heartwarming in its own right, isn’t it?

And THIS is why RadioStatic as a qpr/fucked up friendship with benefits has so much potential, to me! <3

[i-amm-mj]

Is it really hate? - NSFW

A/n: So, this is my first post here in Tumblr... i was very nervous about posting it, but my mom didn´t raise a coward so here i am. I hope you all enjoy it, and please be kind, i´m not a native speaker and my anxious ass could´ve ommited  something. :)   

Words: 2k.

Prohero! Bakugo x reader

Warnings: NSFW themes, cunnilinguis, hate fucking?, lots of cursing. 

Summary:  You work for Bakugo at his agency, but your job is not that easy... Bakugo and you hate each other... or at least that´s what you thought. 

You hated Katsuki Bakugo. No. You loathed him with every fiber of your body…

He had been an egocentric annoying bastard since UA, constantly criticizing you and making stupid comments about your lack of talent in your field. He hated you too, that was pretty obvious. But you think that God hated you the most because you ended up working for him in his agency after the one you were working on had closed.

You didn´t know why he had accepted your job application, maybe just to keep torturing you like he used to back in high school, but today he had crossed the line…

“This is bullshit” He said making a disgusted face while holding the gauntlets you had invested an entire month to design and made “I didn´t ask for this shit”

“I just thought that you'd like an upgrade or two…”

“Are you kidding me? I´m not paying you to be “creative”, I´m fucking paying you to make what you are fucking asked for”

“I didn´t mean any- “

“Shut your fucking hole and listen for the first time in your shitty life, Y/N!” you opened your eyes in complete shock. He had a shitty attitude, that was true, but he had never talked to you like this, and you weren´t going to tolerate a man to treat you like that, not even if that man was your boss. So, you stood up from your sit and closed the distance between you and him while holding a finger up.

“Don´t you fucking dare to talk to me like that!”

“I´m your fucking boss”

“So, what!? You think you can treat your employees like shit whenever you are having a fucking bad day!?”  you raised your voice “I´m tired of your shitty attitude, not just to me but to the entire building! I have thanked you enough for the opportunity you gave me while nobody did, but I can´t and won´t take this shit anymore! I´ve tolerated you enough for years!”

“You are free to go then”

“Yes! I know! That’s why I´m fucking quitting this job right now! You will have my resignation letter first thing on the morning” you turned on your heels.

“Who are you going to work for? Nobody´s gonna give you what I gave for your shitty work” you froze. You were fuming. Was he fucking serious?

“You didn´t say that…” you said trying to control yourself.

“I fucking did” you snapped.

“You are a fucking bastard, Bakugo!” you turned so fast that you almost broke your neck but you didn´t care at the moment. “I´ve designed for Shoto, for Deku, for Uravity and even the damned Hawks, and they all were amazed by my fucking work! It´s just you the one that don´t recognize me! Why!? Why are so obsessed with making my life a living hell!?”

Bakugo stayed silent and it was your turn to speak “I hate you! I´ve always hated you ´cause you´ve been a bully for all of us! I don´t even know why such a nice guy like Eijiro can be your friend! You don´t deserve him! You don´t even deserve to be a fucking hero! I´m SO happy that Deku turned out to be the number one… ´cause he does deserve it. He is so much better than you…” you were just a few inches from him, and even with Bakugo towering over you, you didn´t back out. The tension was evident and suffocating...  

“You done?” he said with a blank expression.

“I´m sure that Deku´ll hire me. He mentioned he wanted me in his agency not long ago. I´ll be better in there” 

“You serious?” Bakugo contorted his face with something similar to pain and anger. 

“Course I am. I´ve never been surer about something like this in my entire life” you turned again with the intention of getting out of the room, you had said enough... but then something in Bakugo´s head just broke, so he held your wrist with a strong but not painful grip. He couldn´t let you go, not now, not never. He had always been asshole with you, that was true, but he did like and admire your work. You were amazing in what you did, but he had had a terrible day, no... a terrible week since the last attack of a villain and the media critizing him for everything he did or didn´t. He was tired... He was angry... And he didn´t know how to exprese it if it was not through his shitty attitude towards of whoever was in front of him at the moment...

 “What the fuck are you doing!?” you tried to shake your arm free “I´m gonna scream if you don´t let me go”

“Do you really mean it?” Bakugo asked. 

“What?”

“Do you really hate me?” you scoffed.

“After all you´ve done and said to me, that has to be pretty obvious, don´t you think?” Bakugo smiled. A sarcastic smile that had your head spinning from rage “What´s so funny!?”

“You´re so fucking sexy when you´re mad…”

“You gotta be kidding me” your expression turned from rage to complete shock.

“Not at all”

“Are you insane? Did you hit your head or something?”

“I fucking hate you too… you get on my nerves every damn time and I can barely stand you.” Bakugo put his free hand on your waist and you let him, listening close to what he has to say. “But you are a tease, you´ve always been… and so pretty and smart too” his lips were on your neck, sucking a little on the skin of your throat. You moaned because of his words... “Those fucking skirts and shorts you constantly used back in UA… always bending in front of all of us.” you tried to protest but he bit your neck “Are you gonna fucking tell me that you didn´t notice the huge erection on shitty Deku´s pants when he came to the office and you were wearing that slutty red dress of yours?”  

“I didn´t” He raised his head to look you directly in the eyes. He huffed. He knew you weren´t that naive. 

“Even nice guy Kirishima was constantly glaring at your cleavage” He smirked “The walls in our apartment are thin, you know? I´m pretty sure he jerked off thinking about you that night. I heard some noises coming from his room…”

Something in you snapped again but in a different way. You knew that Bakugo was a good looking man with the body of lust demon, but you had ignore it because of his personality “What about you?” you purred, feeling a little brave and honestly, turned on.

“I wanted to fuck you on that same table. Bend you over in front of everyone and make you scream my name, punish you for being such a slut in front of all of them” He kissed you hungrily and you responded moaning higher when his tongue got into your mouth, exploring the inside of your mouth and battling for dominance with your own tongue.

Bakugo softly moved his hands to under your knees to lift you up like if you weight nothing and then proceeded to put you on the table. He stopped for a minute to confirm that you wanted this to happen, and when you nodded with half lifted eyes, he started to slowly take off your blouse.

His complete attention was now redirected towards your breasts still covered in the lacy of the bra, he massaged your boobs and kissed them with such dedication that your pussy throb at the sensation. You knew he was damn good at this and hasn’t even done anything yet.  

Bakugo kissed you again, this time a little bit softer. You didn’t know he were capable of such display of softness towards anyone. He was always rude and honestly, insufferable, so you felt yourself a very lucky person for being the one receiving this treatment.

“Lay on the table” he said softly and you happily obeyed. Where did your hatred run? You didn´t know and you didn´t care, not with Bakugo positioning himself between your legs.  

Bakugo lowered his head towards your sex and put your knees on his shoulders to have a better access. You moaned when his lips kissed your inner thigh and bit the same area seconds after.

“Be sure to not cover your mouth, ok? I wanna hear you moan my name” Bakugo moved your panties to the side and with a flat tongue started to taste your pussy. Just the first lick took to heaven you and back. You didn’t know how he did it, but the sensation was like nothing you had experienced before. He had a golden tongue, a real prodigy of oral sex. He knew where your most sensitive parts were just by the little sighs you let escape. 

He sucked your clit a couple of times after that and continued giving licks to your pussy lips, but your moans got louder when he put his tongue inside you and started tongue fucking you like there was no tomorrow. Your hands flew to his hair and you pulled a little rough, he groaned satisfied. You could feel the little smile that formed on his face.

“Omg…” you sighed “Don´t stop. I´m close. Please, don’t stop” he pulled out his tongue to redirect it to your clit and then inserted a finger and curved it to massage your insides. You closed your thighs when the feeling was too much and almost suffocated him, but he didn’t stop there, fortunately.

“Say my name…” he groaned without taking out the finger inside you.

“Bakugo…” you moaned.

He inserted another finger and moved the both of them a little faster “I said ´my name´, not my last name, pretty girl”

You were close… so close. You knew that if you didn’t answer to him the way he wanted you to, he could stop and ruin your orgasm, so you obliged “Katsuki…” you whispered.

“Didn’t hear you”

“Oh, Katsuki, please, let me cum” you moaned again. He smiled and helped you with his mouth, sucking your clit again, oh, so heavenly…

“Cum on my face, doll. C´mon, make a mess” he said and you did so. Your pussy contracted against his digits and your entire body convulsed on the table. Katsuki let you ride your orgasm using his entire face, and when you were done, he stood up with a proud face and your juices on his mouth, chin, nose and even his right cheek. That made you smile with a dumb post orgasmic face.

“Was I that good?” he joked for the first time in years after seing your cute face… you laughed.

You sat up after a couple of minutes, your eyes immediately focusing on the erection that he wasn’t trying to cover from you.

“Can I help you?” you suggested and he nodded with a lopsided smile.

“Use your words, pretty boy” you teased with a seductive voice.

“I´m not gonna fucking-¨ you cut him off with a kiss.

“I was just joking… I know that big great Dynamight himself would never beg, not even for a blowjob” you laughed and his face softened.

You got up, pushed Katsuki a little to make room for you and proceeded to kneel down… but just when you where ready to put his pants down, a low knock was heard on the door. You looked up to Katsuki with big surprised eyes.

“Yeah?” his voice harsher than normal. You pinched his thigh and he flinched a little.

“Uhm, Mr. Dynamight, sir?” the voice of your assistant was heard. You stood up immediately. “I- uhm, sorry to bother you, but Miss Y/N and I have a meeting in 15 minutes…”

“Fuck…” you groaned while getting up and clothed again. “Yeah!” you shouted “I´ll be with you in a minute”

Katsuki stood there, just looking at you, his face unreadable. You finished fixing your hair the better you could.

When you were presentable, you faced Katsuki. He had something similar to a pout painted on his face.

“We´ll talk about this later… I promise” you said… He avoided your eyes, and then nodded.

“Yeah, whatever”

You took the papers you had brought to the meeting and opened the door to encounter your assistant blushing to her ears.

“Omg, how much did you hear?” you mumbled while closing the door behind you.

“All of it…”

[ohtobeleah]

Sticks & Stones // A ToE Blurb

Summary: The one where Rooster finds out about the time you absolutely let loose on your daughter during her teenage hellion years while he was on an eight week deployment. And the one you find out you weren’t the only one who kept parenting secrets.

Warnings: Angst. Teenage hellion Odette Bradshaw. Bradley Bradshaw x F!reader. Platonic Rhett Abbott x F!reader.

Word Count: 4k

-> Fade away from reality with the Terms of Endearment series here

I think throughout your parenting life together you and Rooster keep certain things from each other. Not out of spite or with malice intentions. It would be to simply keep the other from spiralling or needing to worry about a situation that had already been dealt with. That had already been handled appropriately and most likely to a parenting degree that would be deemed acceptable by the other party. 

“I remember this one time mum tore shreds off me after I got an after school detention.” This one can be titled: “The one where Rooster finds out about the time you absolutely let loose on your daughter during her teenage hellion years while he was on an eight week deployment.” 

Odette Fitch knew it wasn’t just because of the after school detention. She was big enough and grown enough to understand her wrongs as a teenager—but that didn’t make the pill any easier to swallow. 

“I've never seen her like that before nor do I ever want to see her like that again.” Odette explained all the while she sat by the fire— burning bright orange and red embers in the fire pit Chase had built, explaining how Harrison, her threenager, got in trouble for kicking dirt in some poor kid’s eyes during free play at daycare. “I didnt understand why she was so mad, why she was so emotional but fuck dad–I get it now.” 

“I don't think I know about this one?” Bradley shook his head softly as he took a sip from his beer bottle. “When did you get an after school detention?” Odette can't help but to chuckle, of course you hadn’t told him. You went off like no tomorrow which wasn't like you at all. Your tolerance for bullshit was usually pretty high–but that particular day Odette and her teenage antics had pushed you to a limit that even scared you. It was no wonder you never mentioned it to Bradley. 

So, Dot spills the beans, she finishes her beer and settles a little further into the back of her camp chair and lulled her head to the side to tell her dear old dad about the time she saw you burn in. 

Fourteen Years Earlier: 

“When your father hears about this Odette you better count your lucky stars that he doesn't ship you out to Wabang or better yet, Australia!” 

“It's not that big of a deal mum–” Dot trailed in behind you with her school bag slumped over her shoulder. She was too cool for school nowadays. “Everyone does it!” She’d been busted by a teacher, skipping P:E in favour of an excursion to the lake that bordered the school grounds. There was an old cabin out there one of the groundskeepers used to live in way back in the 70’s. Apparently it was haunted. Dot didn't think so. But she wanted to check it out nevertheless.

“You are not everyone, Odette, you are your own person with bodily autonomy and critical thinking skills and you should know better!” The consequences to Odette's actions had been a call from the principal's office in the middle of the day. You were beyond furious about being pulled away from work, work you were inundated with. What followed was a lengthy discussion with the schools guidance counsellor about your daughter's declining behaviour during class and her grade averages. Odette was smart; she just didn't apply herself–or just didn't see the point in doing so.  

“Uncle Jake said you hated school! Said you hardly ever showed up and that when you did it was to work on stuff in the metal room.” Odette thought she had you backed into a corner as you stopped and turned on your heels. “Yeah, I know things.” It was then you pressed your lips together in a fine line and wished Jake was currently in the US to feel your wrath. But he wasn't. No, He was in Townsville Queensland. In fucking Australia. It said so on the google calendar that sat on your kitchen countertop. The one everyone used. 

“Your uncle is a liar.” He wasn't. You hated school, it was hard being the smartest person in the room and feeling like you knew nothing all at the same time. You were a delinquent at best during your teenage years so the fact you had a teenage dirtbag yourself shouldn't have shocked you all that much. It didn't shock Jake that was for sure. The apple didn't fall too far from the tree he’d tell you when you'd call him just to rant about Odettes’ latest attempt at sending you to an early grave. “And we aren't talking about me, we’re talking about you and your grades and the fact you have an after school detention on Wednesday that I now have to leave work early to come and get your from when you know I work late Wednesdays!” 

There was a small pause in the argument that had begun to bubble over and before you knew what was happening—Odette was challenging you without hesitation.

“Oh i’m so sorry you have to leave work, not like you spend enough time there anyway!” Dot hissed. 

“Enough young lady, your father and I work hard to give you a good life.” That much was true—you never wanted your kids to grow up like you did. You’d do anything to keep a roof over their head and food in their mouths and keep clothes on their backs. 

“Maybe if Mr Carson wasn't such a tight ass–” Dot mumbled under her breath as she sighed and rolled her eyes. This sucked. Everything sucked. 

“Don't you blame anyone but yourself for this situation, Odette.” You pointed a stern finger at your daughter. “And be thankful it's me you're dealing with now and not your father, he’d be livid if he knew.” And then, Odette Bradshaw said it. For the first time ever she said something that tore your heart from your chest, rung it out like a wet sponge before discarding it in the trash.

“How can dad know about it!” She shouted. “He's in prison, remember?” Silence, Odette heard nothing but silence. No “Go to your room young lady.” or “You’re grounded.” Silence was all she heard as you stood there speechless trying to process what your daughter had just said to you. Odette took your silence as a leverage point, she thought she’d won the battle but decided to twist the knife a little deeper just to see how far she could push this new rhetoric. “Rooster isn't my real dad, so he doesn’t get to have a say in what I do and don't do.” Again you were speechless as you stood there with wide eyes trying to regulate the way your heart thumped against your chest. “And he's not even here mum! He's in the middle of the damn ocean somewhere so empty threats aside, I think I'll take my chances when he does come back.” 

Odette really did think she had you beat when you didn't say a word. She smirked, reached for her school bag that she'd dumped by the leg of the table and slung it over her shoulder before turning on her heels. It was then through a haze of rage and repressed emotions that you let your daughter, your first born, the first love you had ever known, have it. 

“Oh–fuck you kid!” You snapped through gritted teeth. Odette had never heard you swear before, let alone heard you swear at one of your three kids. “Fuck you!” When you said it again Odette just scoffed in shock. She was in utter disbelief. 

“Did you really just say that?” She asked softly, confused. 

“Yeah–yeah I really just said fuck you, and I mean how fucking dare you.” There was a rage behind your eyes Dot had never seen before. A sadness. “ After all I have done, after all that I have given to you, my life, my love, my body!” You paused as you stepped a little close to your daughter. “I broke my fucking vagina for that big fucking head of yours!” You spat, it was too much for Odette to compute as you spoke with venom lacing your tone. “And I had to be surgically sewn back together, I bet you didn't know that, did you? Well guess who does know? Your uncle because he was there! Not your fucking father!” 

Odette didn't know that, She always just assumed that her dad had been there when you gave birth to her. Why wasn't he there she wondered? Why wasn’t he there to watch her be born? 

“Oh and you calling him your dad, that's rich considering you have never known the man! So rich when the man who is your father, who is your dad in all the ways that matter most loves you so unconditionally that he adopted you as his own!” You were on a warpath and Odette was your target. “After all those years of your ‘father’ driving me insane with his abuse and his condescending ‘my loves’” You paused to hold back tears as flashes from your past played out like a rolodex behind your eyes. “He talked to me like I was worthless, treated me like trash until I got sick of it!” 

“Mum?” Odette tried to interrupt as tears began to stream down your cheeks. 

“I wanted happiness Odette–” Was all you sobbed. “I deserve happiness! I’m a fucking human being Dot!” You tried to pull yourself together because this wasn't about you or what you wanted. You were a selfless mother who gave everything you had to your children and this was the most vulnerable any of them had ever seen you. 

“Don't you dare bitch to me about my career, little miss ‘I’m so progressive!’ Yes! I worked my ass off to get where I am and I wanted it.” Flashbacks from the time Jake and your own guidance counsellor helped you graduate flashed before your eyes. They believed in you when most people didn't. When you didn't even believe in yourself. 

“I wanted to mean something in this world! I didn’t know that was a fucking crime!?” 

“Mum–” Odette was at a loss for words but nevertheless she still tried. You didn't let her speak. You weren’t done yet. 

“Life isn't perfect, oaky baby? We don't get everything we want. But you’re young, you know, so go on, go make the perfect little life that you want and you see how fucking easy it is and stop bitching and complaining and blaiming me! after all I have ever done and all I will ever do has been in your best goddamn interest.” 

It was Odette's turn to stand in silence, unsure of what to say back to you after your rant. It was clear she broke your heart—that much was evident, but Odette was too hot headed and knew what she thought was everything she ever needed to know. After all, she was fifteen. 

“I’m—“ As Dot when to speak, you held your hand up in order to silence your daughter. She hated the tears that streamed down your face as you refused to look at her. “Mum?”

“Go to your room, I’ve got to go get your brother and sister from school.” Without another world, it was just Odette left in the big house that usually houses five souls at any given time. She felt sick to her stomach for upsetting you so much. 

But as she heard the car start in the driveway she knew she wouldn’t apologise for it. You’d be fine. You were her mother—you had no choice but to love her even when you wanted to kill her. 

Present Day: 

“Now before you whoop my twenty nine year old ass, I did end up apologising and I did go to that detention and I’ve since learnt my lesson.” Dot scrambled to get all that out before Rooster had a chance to lean over and wrap his hands around his daughter’s throat. 

You’d never told him about that, Rooster never would have known if his daughter didn’t spill the test fourteen years later. And even if fourteen years had past Bradley knew that you probably thought about that fight a lot. 

“Your mother was right kid, I would have throttled you.” Bradley shook his head in disbelief, it was fourteen years ago but he was only finding out about it now. He felt like he was the last to know. He should have known, right?

Later that same evening when Bradley made his way home, he opened the front door to the smell of something homely simmering away on the stovetop. Homemade chicken and feta pesto pasta. One of his favourites. 

The portion size had dwindled from five to four to three to two back to three over the years, with kids grown and flying in and out of the house without a second's notice. But the one thing that always remained the same was the love cooked into the food you prepared for your family. No matter how little or how much. 

“Hey Roo.” You beamed as you took a sip from the glass of wine in your hand. You’d just finished cleaning up the kitchen after having used every possible surface available. “How’s Dot doing?” 

“She’s good, Harrison’s giving her a little trouble but she’s good.” Bradley explained as he made his way over to you. “But—she actually told me a little story about a fight the two of you had?” It was the taunting tone your husband used that made you immediately feeling hot in the cheeks. Bradley wasted no time in trapping you between the countertop and his torso, with strong arms encompassing you. “The one where you—“

“No she didn’t!” You cupped a single hand over your mouth with wide eyes when the realisation hit you like a ton of bricks. “That little shit head I swore her to secrecy!” Bradley reached for your glass of wine, he took a sip before he pressed his lips together and leaned in to kiss your cheek softly from behind.” 

“You never told me—“ 

“I didn’t want you knowing I swore at her.” You admitted. “You were deployed and I didn’t want you worrying about us at home and—“ Before you could finish your sentence, Rooster spun you around in his hood and had his lips on yours as he pressed you up against the kitchen counter top. His hands were firmly on your hips, holding you close to him lovingly. 

“Before anything, I am a husband and a father first baby.” He reminded you as he let his forehead rest against yours. “I know why you didn’t tell me, and I’m not mad you didn’t because you handled it better than I probably would have—“ Bradley explained as he pushed your hair behind your ear. “But I wish you didn’t have to deal with those very real and very valid emotions by yourself.” 

You paused for a brief moment, smiling up at your loving husband and the aroma of his favourite meal consumed the two of you. 

“Well if it makes you feel any better baby I wasn’t entirely alone.” You explained as you got to work plating up a bowl of pesto pasta for your husband. 

Fourteen Years Earlier: 

What Dot didn’t see was the panic attack that overcame you to the point you had to pull over on the side of the road to let it take its course. Memories of that fateful night and that bloodied devil-like smirk flashed before your eyes. Even after all these years the mere mention of your ex brought you to your damn knees in a crumpled heap. He was a monster. 

With Bradley deployed and Jake overseas a world away in the land down under, you reached for your phone and called the only person you knew would answer your call the first time round. 

“Boys!” Rhett’s loud and boisterous voice travelled down the hall. He was standing in the kitchen making his seven year old boys lunch. Turkey and cheese on wholemeal bread. “Quit fuck assing around, come get your lunch!” As Rhett flung the tea towel over his shoulder and started to pack up the mess he’d made making lunch for his boys—he felt his phone vibrate in his back pocket. A loud thud came from the living room just around the corner—then? Complete and utter silence. If Rhett knew anything about his kids it’s that when a thud is followed by silence it’s usually not a good thing. “BOYS! you better both be alive when I round that corner!” 

Rhett threw the butter and the block of cheese he’d mangled with a less than sharp butter knife into the fridge haphazardly before he kicked the fridge door shut with his boot. He wasted not a second of time, he needed to investigate the silence now shrouding the farmhouse. As he walked he fished his phone from his back pocket to see your name lighting up his caller ID. ‘Ace.’ 

“Hol’ on—m’ parentin’.” Rhett mumbled as he swiped the pad of his thumb across his screen and held his phone to his ear. Keep it there with his shoulder as he rounded the corner to see one of his twins, Liam, laying on the ground with his eyes closed. “LUKE!” Rhett bellowed into the phone, for a second it made you laugh because Rhett and parenting in the same sentence still made you smile. “What did you do to your brother huh?” 

“He fell!” Luke ran out from behind the lounge and down the hall. “I didn’t touch him!” Rhett groaned in defeat as he scooped his son off the ground to make sure he was still alive. Yep. There was a heartbeat and breathe inside his lungs. 

“I’m fine, I just need a minute—“ Liam mumbled. “And to not fix fences this afternoon.” 

“You ain’t dead, dying or debilitated.” Rhett chuckled as he watched Liam side on the couch with deflated shoulders. “Go eat your lunch and find your brother before I do.” How the fuck was Rhett Abbott a dad? “We’re heading out at two.” 

Liam groaned as he flung himself off the lounge and headed on into the kitchen. It was then Rhett exhaled a sigh and turned all his attention back to you—still waiting patiently on the other end of the line. “How much do you think I could get for two feral seven year olds?” 

“Probably a little more than a fifteen year old delinquent.” You replied softly as you sat pulled over on the side of the road with your hazards on and your forehead pressed against the steering wheel. “I’m sending her to live with you.” Rhett chuckled as he sat on the lounge and held his phone up to his ear. 

“What she do this time?” It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence for you and Rhett to call each other to discuss your children’s antics. Being separated and a co-parenting dad with two twin boys that hardly knew what he was doing, more often than not it was Rhett calling you. But on the odd occasion you called him? It made him feel validated in a sense that it was okay to not have everything under control all the time. “Y/n? What she do this time?” 

“We were arguing about how she got an after school detention—“ You explained only a few details. “And then she hit me with the Bradley’s not her real dad argument when I said she was lucky he wasn’t here to reprimand her.” It knocked the wind right out of Rhett’s lungs. “She’s fifteen! I’m not ready to talk about this yet! She can’t know Rhett—she can’t—she—“ Rhett could tell by the rapid breathing and the panicked tone coming through the phone that you weren’t okay. He looked over to the little digital calendar in the corner of the living room that you all had and saw that Bradley was still on deployment for another two weeks. 

“Ace, listen to me?” Rhett tried his best to console you as he rubbed a hand across his tired face. “You don’t have to tell her, no one will ever force you to tell her anything you don’t want her to know, but she’s a smart kid man—she’s gonna figure it out eventually.” 

“Fuck you Rhett—“ That wasn’t the reaction Rhett was expecting but nevertheless it forced a chuckled from his chest. “You didn’t see the way she dug that knife in, she knew what she said and she meant it too.” 

“Kids are brutal, teenagers are the worst.” Rhett replied. “It’s sticks and stones Ace, be the bigger person and just let her have this one.” You knew Rhett wasn’t invalidating your feelings, he was just giving you level headed advice. 

“Are you kidding me?” 

“Nah—“ Rhett smiled with half his mouth as he watched his boys come back into the living room with their sandwiches. Both sitting in front of the TV to watch something Rhett could only assume was mind numbing. He wasn’t allowed to watch TV as a kid, but he wasn’t about to be like his father. “I’m serious, I think she won this round, but just because she KO’d you doesn’t mean you won’t get back up.” 

“I hate you, you know that right?” You groaned into the phone. “Jake would have told me to take the door handle off her door and leave her in there for a week.” You knew that Jake would have been serious too. “I should have called him for moral support, not you and your rational responses.” 

You needed level headedness though, you needed someone to pull you back from the edge of a full blown parenting breakdown and of all people it was Rhett Abbott who did so. He smiled to himself because he knew you’d be okay, he knew the tears had slowly begun to fade and he knew that when you got home? You’d still love your shit head of a daughter. 

“That’s exactly why Hangman doesn’t have kids.” 

Present Day: 

There’s a barely twenty one year old emerging from his room right about the time Bradley has you sitting on the countertop while he stands between your legs. If anything the Bradshaw kids were exposed to public displays of affection more often than most kids were but that was because they had parents who were oh so in love. 

For Nicky Bradshaws who’s home on a rare visit between trips overseas and dedicating his entire life to the sport he loved so much, the fact he watched his parents suck faces often throughout his childhood never made the sight any less gross. 

Nick stood dead in his tracks as he watched his father stand between his mothers legs with his tongue in her mouth like he was starved of oxygen. He let his presence be known by clearing his throat. 

“I still technically live here, you know.” Nick side eyed the two of you as Rooster stepped away to let you down from where he had you perched. It wasn’t a kiss laced with lust—but it had been a kiss filled with love for the woman who had built her own version of a perfect life. “I think I deserve to be able to use the common areas of the house without needing lasik after losing my vision after having walked in on you two getting in on.” Your youngest pointed between you and Bradley. “Y’all have a bedroom—use it.” 

“It wasn’t like that honey.” You tapped your son on the chest. “Here, have some dinner before your father eats it all.” 

“I heard Harry kicked dirt in some poor kid's eyes today.” Nick chuckled at the way his oldest sister had rung him up in the car. “Can’t say he isn’t hers now—“ Bradley laughed along with his son as you deadpanned the both of them. The look you sent them shut their laughter up real quick. “Oh come on ma! Admit it, she was a handful teen and you know it.” 

“You weren’t perfect either Bud.” Rooster had your back before you even needed to defend Odette. “I still remember the time I caught that girl sneaking out of your room when you were fifteen—“ Immediately, before the sentence was even finished, Bradley knew he’d fucked up. 

“What girl?” Your eyes went wide. “Nick? When did you have a girl in your room when you were fifteen?” Throughout your parenting life together you and Rooster keep certain things from each other. Not out of spite or with malice intentions. It would be to simply keep the other from spiralling or needing to worry about a situation that had already been dealt with. “Bradley? What girl!?” You hissed as you crossed your arms over your chest. 

“It’s a long story Ma.” Nick replied with a mouthful of pasta. 

“Well it’s a good thing I’m not busy.” You turned to your husband who looked like a kicked puppy. He kept things from you too. And he kept this one from you for a good fucking reason—Nick had begged him to for his own safety.

Nick knew you’d throw sticks and stones at him if you found out he lost his virginity when he was just fifteen. 

“Spill the beans boys.” You willed the pair of them to sit at the table. Nick shook his head in defiance with a mouthful of pasta. 

“No thanks, I chose life.” 

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~**

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[ofoceansandtombsanew]

I Cherish You, Halcyon Days: iv.

“You’re gonna die, kid. In the worst way possible.”

tags: afab!reader (she/her), angst, slow burn

pairing: gojou x reader + onesided!getou x reader

summary: You’re 15 years old when you’re told you’re going to die. You’re 17 years old when you realize who your killer will be. And you’re 17 years old when you make peace with the fact you wouldn’t want it any other way.

index | previous chapter | next chapter

You hum in pleasant surprise when the taste of green apples and mango hit your tongue. This really could have been hit or miss, you sip again. Still as good as the first sip. Just because you like experimenting with food and drink, it doesn't necessarily mean there will be a good payoff. Fruit teas from random shops are always either too sweet or just right for you, never something tolerable in between.

Thankfully, this place understood that the sugar is only supposed to enhance the drink, not drown it. You look over at the tall and lanky boy a few short steps away. Tea isn't Gojou's thing, hence why he is the only member of the group who hadn't ordered anything, but you think this one will be right up his alley. "You've gotta try this," you angle the cup slightly above your shoulder. "It's this green apple mango flavor they're promoting."

Without taking the cup from your hand, Gojou simply leans down to take a drink. "It's alright," Gojou shrugs before sipping again with vigor. "Needs more sugar."

You snort and lean away, bringing your beverage with you, "well if it's only alright, stop drinking it then."

"You know," Gojou sighs and you already know it's going to be some bullshit spewed out of his mouth coated in false philosophy and maturity. "Here in Japan we have a saying that food tastes better when you share it."

You roll your eyes but grin at the fact you called it, "well we just shared it and it still tastes exactly the same so," when Gojou attempts to take your cup, you turn immediately. "You better follow your best friend's example and get inside that tea house and order yourself a drink!"

Gojou slumps over your back with a whine, "what if yours tastes better than mine for some reason and they give me a bad one?"

You're giggling but no dice, "no!" You shove your straw back into your mouth and lean over your drink protectively. Get your own drink, you point at the tea shop once again with a mumble. "You have pretty privilege, there is no way they'll fuck yours up!"

"Stingy," Gojou clicks his tongue but he drags himself across the street where Suguru is standing in line anyway.

Crisis avoided.

"... What was that?" Utahime's eyes widen while her brow furrows.

It's a chilly April day in Moriya and the lot of you are enjoying the last bits of spring vacation. School holidays work differently when you go to a jujutsu school, you learned quickly. As far as the higher ups were concerned, vacation just meant more free time to send students on missions. Sure you're in a completely different part of Japan doing a lot more traveling than you'd ever do in your typical high school experience.

But in reality, this trip to a ryokan in Ibaraki Prefecture is nothing more than a glorified work trip with sightseeing sprinkled in. They could have at least sent us to a coastal town if they were sending us to Ibaraki. You shouldn't expect much from an institute that still does school on Saturday when the rest of the country stopped doing it in 2002. At the very least, the mission had been wrapped up and this final week of spring break before the new school year started, you get to enjoy yourself.

Next week, I become a second year student, you did it. You managed to survive your very first year at Jujutsu Tech. You'll miss having Fujioka-sensei as a teacher, she was kind and had lots of fun anecdotes. But you can't stew in awe and nostalgia with how Utahime is staring at you like you've lost your mind.

"What was what? It's green apple mango fruit tea," you cock your head before sliding your cup to the traditionally-clothed girl's side of the table. "Wanna try it too?"

Utahime promptly slides it back in disgust. "After he put his mouth on it? No thanks," you only shrug in return before sipping at the fruity goodness all over again. That's more for me then. Your nonchalance drives your upperclassman into mania. She looks at Shoko like she's the only other sane person at the table. 'What the heck is going on?!' her lips move silently. "Why am I the only one freaking out about this!?"

The brunette holds up a hand in the most laidback display of defensiveness you've ever seen, "they've been like that for a while now, everyone just got used to it." Shoko's words only make Utahime's more aghast.

Oh right.

That.

You smack your lips together with a weak laugh, avoiding your friend's accusatory gaze.

Something shifted in the cosmos after December 8th, 2005 without your meaning to. You aren't exactly sure how long it took after your birthday for sharing food with Gojou to become habit, but it did.

Something is too sweet or too spicy? You swap plates.

You get an assorted bag of snacks and sweet treats from helping a random grandma cross the street? There isn't really a point of keeping any of the stuff you know Gojou will like.

But you never realized how ingrained into normalcy it became until one particular day you leaned over to eat a chip Gojou held in his fingers. "Does this taste kinda soapy to you or is it just me?" He asked, shaking the bag it came from. They were roasted cumin lamb skewer flavored chips imported from China.

"Yeah, I think it's just- wait, give me another one?" You chewed more slowly that time around, really feeling at the flavor. "No, I'm getting it too."

Suguru and Shoko made faces that looked exactly like the one Utahime is wearing right now. "[First]!"

"Look it isn't like we're friends or anything," you tell the soon to be fourth-year. "When there is food involved, the We Hate Gojou Alliance calls forth a truce," you explain seriously, folding your hands and resting your chin on them as if you are Ikari Gendo. "For how can we hate if we are not properly nourished?"

At the bullshit you spew, Utahime's expression shifts into one that is purely unamused as her brow furrows and she purses her lips. It takes a lot out of you to not laugh then and there. "And since when was that an addendum we agreed on?"

"It's one I made out of personal interest," you close your eyes, nodding at the memories. Food comes before any quarrel you have with an annoying classmate. If it came down to it, you'd become Gojou's best friend for a sandwich. "When food is involved, Gojou Satoru isn't that bad."

"You're full of it," Utahime fights the twitches of her lips trying to curl upward. "Very, very full of it." The upperclassman relents with a sigh a beat later, knowing her arguments are futile. "You're a traitor. I hope you know that you're a traitor to our cause, [First]," you bite your lip to prevent yourself from laughing again. You're failing the longer she goes on. Shoko is your mission partner, but you think it is arguably fair to say Utahime is who you're closest to besides her. When you transferred to Jujutsu Tech, it was Utahime who gave you a tour around the facility when the teachers were suddenly too busy. She was a kind and beautiful upperclassman who came with a lot less monetary baggage than Mei Mei. "First Getou and Shoko, now you," she sips her matcha with a pointed glare in the direction of the tea house windows. Whatever Gojou does, it makes Utahime's amused scowl turn into an annoyed glare.

"I was technically never part of any alliance to hate on Gojou, I'm only an affiliated acquaintance," Shoko laughs lightly, tucking a stray hair behind her ear. "Utahime-senpai, you just have to accept this as part of the new reality. [First] and Gojou have become friends," your mission partner rolls her eyes when you shoot her a pointed look. "Apologies, food-based acquaintances."

Satisfied with her correction, you nod.

It's then Suguru finally reappears, a beverage in hand. Gojou is still waiting by the window for his own order to finish. "What are you guys talking about now?"

"I was telling them about this convenience store by my old high school everyone went to to have mental breakdowns," it's always a pleasure when Suguru looks at you like you've grown a second head. Laughter slips from your lips as easily as breathing. "It's called Adachi's ー that's the owner ー but the joke was to call it Adachi 7-11 because it rips off the 7-11 color scheme. He's a sweet guy though," you quickly add before continuing your spontaneous tale of the incredible 7-11 knock off store.

You eloquently tell your friend that Adachi is the kind of grownup who understand kids have it rough. That it's unknown who it was from Tsubame High that started the tradition of finding aisle to just sit and cry and snack in, but eventually it just became the spot to have freak outs. If you stayed to eat while you freaked, you simply paid for what you ate or drank when you were ready to leave.

Respect someone else's crying space. If you couldn't avoid going into their aisle for something, just politely pretend they don't exist.

If you really needed a cry, Adachi's office is free for someone having a particular trying time.

And last but not least, Adachi's was a judgement free zone.

It was like having a bartender for teenagers. Except in this instance, the only services the bartender offered were snack food, cheap wagashi and a select variety of beverages.

"First, I promise people don't go there to cry as often it I made it sound. Second, I know it sounds weird but it actually was kinda cool," you chuckle as the cursed user shakes his head the longer you go on. "Exam week? We're all basically in there studying and freaking out while eating a bunch of snacks." It really built up a surprising amount of comradery among your classmates you make sure to tack on before taking a break to finish the rest of your tea. "Before you ask, if I'm gonna have a mental breakdown, I prefer having it in the privacy of my own room," or in front of a beluga whale, but that explanation will take forever and a half. "And that... is the story behind Adachi 7-11," you conclude dramatically.

Suguru shakes his head but his expression is playful, "I give you points for the improv, but I'm taking away points for how long your story was."

You click your tongue in mock annoyance, "everybody's a critic. I just wanted to cover all the bases in case you felt so intrigued you wanted to know more about your mysterious classmate."

"You don't have a mysterious bone in your body," Shoko chirps and when you lightly kick her ankle under the table, she kicks back. "Utahime-senpai just feels betrayed that [First] is getting along better with Gojou." At the reminder, Utahime squints in your direction again. 'And after all I've done for you. I should have gone to Kyoto Tech', Utahime sighs into her warm cup. "The We Hate Gojou Alliance is turning into the I Alone Hate Gojou Alliance."

This is when Gojou finally saunters over, drink in hand, "that's because I'm cool and charming."

"You know, if you have to say it, you're probably not as charming as you think you are," Suguru advises with a grin. Gojou promptly ignores it as if he never said anything at all.

"Sucks to be you, Utahime," Gojou sticks out his tongue at the songstress. "[First] and I are practically best friends. Right, [First]?"

The more you deny it, the less convincing you know you sound so you stop with a heavy breath. "Anyway," you pivot the conversation to something other than your food-based truce. "Does anyone know if there are going to be any new 1st years? Or is it gonna be a while before we start seeing some new faces?"

Suguru nods, "I heard from Fujioka-sensei that there are two first years coming enrolling," you perk up at this information. It's a small jujutsu world, so small you didn't even know if you'd be getting any underclassmen. Two 1st years coming in still just seem so small though. From what you've learned though, 2-3 students per grade is average and the school lucked out with your 1st year class having four kids. Suguru points a finger back and forth between you, "she didn't tell me much about them but they're recruits from non-sorcerer families, like us."

Sometimes, life decides to grant you little miracles. "Finally, we're growing in our ranks," you cheer, bumping your cup against Suguru's. "That's less clan politics to hear about!"

The closest you've ever gotten to clan politics in Japan were from anime and dramas and the occasional snippets you learned about the imperial family on the news. That changed when you became a sorcerer. It's a small jujutsu world, you learn things here and there whether you want to or not. Interesting as the stories can be, however, you're glad your family is normal. Everyone at your school from a sorcerer family makes clan politics sound annoying at best and harrowing at worst and that's just from the things you learned from Utahime, Shoko and Mei Mei.

Your other peers aren't so keen on sharing what goes on in their families.

Yamada isn't the friendliest of your upperclassmen.

As for Gojou ー the only one of your classmates from a family apparently worth mentioning ー he doesn't care about clan politics in the slightest and opts to ignore it.

Thus, the Big Three Families still are a mystery to you even with Gojou's close proximity to your person. Nor are there any students at your school that came from either the Zenin or Kamo Clans. There are a couple enrolled at the jujutsu school in Kyoto apparently but you haven't had a chance to meet them. You only had three summaries to go off of when it came to the big name families in jujutsu, all courtesy of Gojou back in May of last year since you couldn't participate in the Sister School Exchange Event in Kyoto.

(Apparently having two special-grade sorcerers for students gave Tokyo Tech the biggest advantage so only Gojou and Suguru got to go. Jerks. Utahime threw a big fit over it too, but at the very least Tokyo won last year.)

"Do you like having rights as a woman?"

"Um, yes?"

"Then you won't like the Zenin Clan.  You know Carnage from the Venom comics in the States?"

"Yeah, my mom reads those."

"That's the Kamo Clan."

"Okay, well what about your family? What's their deal?"

"They have me."

Vague, but clear enough descriptions to paint the necessary pictures ー the Amazing Sexists, the Bloods and the Jujutsu Jesus Havers Club.

Considering that this year the Sister School Exchange event will be taking place in Tokyo, you wonder if this will give you a chance to meet these fancy jujutsu folk. You tell your group as much, sighing in wonder. "It's a good thing you and Gojou won the exchange event, I wanna meet the kids from the other school." That was what you'd been most excited about before Fujioka-sensei dashed all your hopes and dreams. You wanted to see the differences in the campuses and what sort of crazy the teachers had going on. C'est la vie. "What were they like when you went there? Were the big clan kids more refined than Gojou over here?"

You barely dodge the definitely cold hand that was about to touch back of your neck in retaliation while Suguru chuckles out an explanation, "They have a couple folk from the Kamo Clan. They were... nice."

"You hesitated before you said nice," Shoko deadpans.

"They were polite," Suguru pivots his next selection of words in his attempt to remain neutral.

Gojou sticks out his tongue, unimpressed by his best friend's attempts to be cordial, "they were whatever. We didn't really talk to them."

"Boo, you're boring," you shake your head in heavy but mocking disappointment. "Should have just asked Utahime, she's seen them more." Your gazes turn to the oldest person at the table.

Utahime shoulders square off in satisfaction at being deferred to. "There are a couple of Kamo Clan kids at Kyoto Tech, one of them won't be coming because he'll be a fourth year student like me," her spirit drops for a moment and you offer a small smile of reassurance. Fourth year students don't get to participate in Sister School Exchange Event. Hence why she'd been so upset that she'd been unable to participate in it. There's not much you can do to comfort your friend, nor is there anything either of you can do about the past. At the very least, Utahime is nothing if not an optimist. She'll just kick ass in a different category. "As for the younger Kamo, Ririka, she's actually pretty nice when you talk to her but she can be a bit intimidating at times. She'll be a third-year student once school starts."

You make a noise of pleasant surprise, "Kamo Ririka, I'll keep an eye out for her." There's nothing better than a nice but intimidating woman, in your opinion.

"As for everyone else, they're all definitely a lot more tolerable than Gojou, it's not even a competition," Utahime glared at the sunglasses-wearing boy pointedly. He shrugged back without a care in the world, unperturbed as ever. "But while I was visiting home, my mother told me that Zenin Naoya is enrolling in Kyoto Tech so we'll be seeing him in a few months as a first year."

Whoever Zenin Naoya is, just mentioning him immediately makes Gojou groan in annoyance. "I was hoping that brat was gonna get homeschooled," he chews on his straw. You aren't sure how irritated he actually is but you do note how white brows curl in displeasure.

Gojou makes a face, "Zenin Naoya. I can't stand that guy."

You nudge him, lips curling into a light smirk, "I'm sure your fancy rich kid beef isn't that serious."

"No, Gojou actually isn't being hyperbolic this time," you glance over at Shoko. She and Utahime are sporting matching grimaces, brown eyes glancing at one another in understanding. "Zenins are bad but Zenin Naoya is the worst."

Well god damn. You share a look with Suguru who shrugs back, just as lost. That's the problem with not being born into the world of jujutsu, you're behind on all the history and beef going on behind the scenes. You have to learn little by little whether that be through being told or stumbling your way into procuring the knowledge on your own.

Zenin Naoya ー a member of the Amazing Sexists. You glance back at Gojou who has gone back to drinking away at his cup of tea. His partially obscured face doesn't make it any easier to read how he may be feeling underneath the surface.

Either way, you'll form your own opinion on this Naoya person when the sister schools converge in Tokyo.

Second year is definitely going to be something.

index | previous chapter | next chapter

Extra:

Fun fact for my fellow Americans and anyone else whose school holidays work differently, while here in the states, the end of summer vacation is when we go up a grade, students go up a grade at the end of spring break in Japan.

Summer vacation in Japan is about 30-40 days long depending on the prefecture from the end of July to the end of August. In Tokyo, I think it's from about July 21st to to August 24th. You come back and you're still in the same class. Winter break is from about December 26 to January 7th. And Spring break is about March 26th to April 5th. Like I said it can change prefecture to prefecture, but the mentioned dates are the standard for Tokyo give or take a few days or two depending on the ward.

Just wanted that knowledge to be shared, if you were curious as to why the reader is going up a grade after spring break. In Japan, the school year starts in April.

I really wanted to work on Reader's initial dynamic with her peers and her personal philosophies in these first few chapters before kicking off into the heavier stuff that comes in 2nd year. Considering how in canon, shit pretty much was smooth sailing for Gojou and co. during their 1st year until the 'Toji really beat the breaks out of 2 teenagers' mission, I wanted to reflect that in these initial chapters. Hopefully you guys have been enjoying it as much as I have. The Sister School Exchange Event is around the corner and those folks are coming to Tokyo, I wonder how that's gonna go >:3c (not that you can participate but there's plot, I assure you).

[ao3cassandraic]

When angels overplay

Angels, playing a human role new to them, routinely overplay, in delight at their own cleverness and the sheer fun of roleplay. (Demons mostly don't. Crowley only piles role upon role on Bildad the Shuhite because Aziraphale prods him into helping con the angel posse. Until then, Bildad's basically just some guy -- if a guy who asks some rather foreboding leading questions -- to Job and Sitis. In s1, Hastur la Vista looks awful, but plays his role at Megiddo tolerably well; it's Warlock's child-outing-the-naked-emperor bit rather than any solecisms on his part that mess up his scene.) Angels just can't seem to figure out that sometimes less is more.

Muriel totally overdoes the Human Police Officer schtick -- Mrs. Sandwich clocks them just from a moment's glance at them, and so does Aziraphale -- because Muriel doesn't really know what they're doing so they think the thing to do is MORE OF IT. They kinda even know they don't know, but they have to get the job done so they just soldier (heh) right on. When Aziraphale pretends to buy their disguise, they are visibly thrilled.

Aziraphale totally overdoes the investigative-reporter schtick with the publican in the Resurrectionist. He settles down once he's getting some actual useful information, but the way he tosses around journalist jargon at the start is just as overegged as Muriel's Inspector Constable bit, and it comes from the same place of delight in roleplay.

Aziraphale's West End stage-magician career is also a masterpiece of Overegging It (when he isn't a basket of nerves, anyway). He only gets away with it because stage figures are allowed to be mega-flamboyant.

Here's the fun bit. Y'all ready for the fun bit? Here it is.

This applies to the Metatron too. He overplays his role as Kindly Oh-So-Human Appreciator of Aziraphale.

Oh, he does pretty well, the astute manipulative formerly-human-himself sod. He gets by Nina, no problem. The latte for Aziraphale (miracled or not) is a great gambit. He gets by Crowley, even -- Crowley's huge, huge, HUGE mistake is letting Aziraphale talk to the Metatron alone. (Crowley's contempt for Muriel's overplay, which he extends to angels in general, does him a very bad turn here.)

But then the Metatron says something that ground my brain-gears to a halt on my very first s2 watch. "You’re a leader, you’re honest, you don’t just tell people what they want to hear."

I'm sorry, are we talking about the same angel? The angel Aziraphale? The angel who flatly refuses to lead his troops in s1? The lying liar angel who lies lyingly even to the archangels and God Herself? The angel who when at odds with Heaven's archangels invariably finds a way to tell them what they want to hear, even if he has to convince them they want to hear it?

That angel?

Look, sure, it's meant as flattery, but the thing is, I don't think that is even the kind of angel Aziraphale wants to see himself as. He's not Michael or Uriel or Shax or Furfur, jockeying for empty titles and authority. He knows he's dishonest, and he's actually pretty honest with himself about it -- he confesses his lies to Crowley more than once over the millennia! He goes along to get along because it mostly works for him (and, of course, because he is always, always afraid).

But the Metatron clearly expects Aziraphale to buy this overegged line of utter boardroom-bafflegab bullshit. (Oxshit. Whatever. It's shit.) And the old boy's pretty damn pleased with himself at how well he thinks he's doing; he just oozes self-satisfaction.

I continue to hope Aziraphale doesn't buy it. He doesn't buy it. He does his standard go-along-to-get-along thing until he can get back to the bookshop and try to (codedly, codedly, anxiously, anxiously, the Metatron is still near) ask for Crowley's help.

I'm willing to be wrong about this; it's possible this is a cue to the audience -- rather than to Aziraphale -- that the Metatron isn't to be trusted. I don't think I am wrong, though. I think the Metatron went too far and Aziraphale (who is intelligent) caught it. Or possibly he'll catch it in (deus et Amazon volent) s3 when he's had a moment to consider.

P.S. I love that for all the swirling uncertainty about the details, the fandom has quickly -- and I believe accurately -- settled on the Metatron as the hate-sink string-pulling villain. We also seem to be pretty much agreed that there's one or several cons happening around the s2 ending, though again we're all over the place on the details. It's funny! I love y'all!

[rynnaissance]

ok so for future reference, if i ever do continue working on my fic, how do we think bell’s hells would be at driving cars in a modern au? i’ve got ideas, but i want to hear other people’s input.

here’s what i’ve got:

chetney: DO NOT GET IN A CAR WITH CHETNEY WHATEVER YOU DO. that senior citizen is batshit insane and he WILL road rage. if someone cuts him off then wherever he was going is forgotten because he has to tailgate that person now while yelling at them to pull over so they can “talk.” i can’t decide if he would have a really nice car or a really shitty one because honestly both fit. maybe a fancy truck for hauling wood?

orym: he’s your safest bet out of the hells if you want to get somewhere on time without fearing for your life. bro is a law abiding citizen of the road. he never loses his cool (unlike chet) and his car is always clean and smells super nice. he mostly listens to meditation style music, but he’ll let the other person have the aux because he’s genuinely curious to hear what they listen to. shout out to orym.

laudna: okay back to the insanity. ALSO DO NOT GET IN A CAR WITH LAUDNA! girlie pop should not be on the road. she’s blasting the weirdest fucking genres of metal imaginable, she can hear nothing else. the music only somewhat drowns out the horrible keening noises her car makes, as if it’s begging to die. that thing hasn’t been to the shop in decades and omits the occasional plume of black smoke that smell like burnt hair and buttered popcorn for some reason? i saw someone else talk about how she’s a crazy driver with everyone except imogen who she drives very well for and never blasts music, and i like that idea a lot.

imogen: it was her dad’s truck before her’s, a farm vehicle meant for rural roads with four wheel drive. it’s pretty beat up, but it’s reliable. imogen hates driving though, as it can be super overwhelming in the city, and prefers to go with laudna. outside of the city, on rural roads where you won’t see another car for miles, she finds it almost as relaxing as horseback riding. she likes to cruise around with her widows down, shamelessly listening to country music. yeehaw.

ashton: should you get in a car with ashton? depends on the day, as they are kind of a wild card. one day, it might be a chill drive with you two causally exchanging stories, like sober “what the fuck is up with that?” other times you better hold onto your seat because you are getting to your location regardless of how traffic is flowing. ashton is the person who cuts chetney off. it may be on purpose, no one knows for certain, but he always seems to manage to find the old man and make his day a little more difficult. if they see someone they know, they’ll lay on horn and yell, “hey asshole!” with a wave and a grin. the car itself is covered in stickers and sharpie graffiti, interior and exterior. you’ll always know it’s him.

fearne: does she have a license? she would say yes. the truth is no. fearne was never taught how to drive, she just kinda figured it out as she went along. because of ashton, she used to think honking is a friendly thing, but had to be informed by fcg that those people are not just saying hi, but are actually mad at her. she didn’t like that very much. she doesn’t seem to be aware that there are any dangers to driving. she’s almost always getting into crashes, which she responds to with a giggle and a “whoops(:” it’s a marvel she hasn’t been arrested yet. there’s also an angry possum that’s sometimes found in the truck of her car, so it’s best not to open it.

fcg: much like orym, fcg is a very safe person to drive with. although maybe a little annoying, as he’ll let everyone go before him at a four way stop regardless of if it’s actually their turn. sometimes though, when they’re under a lot of stress, they resemble chetney more. they won’t tolerate any bullshit from other drivers and yell at pedestrians to get out of the way. he’s been getting better about this though, but still.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for accepting money/gifts from my mom?

(🦭🐟 to help find later)

Ok bear with me here because this is a serious question w/ some context even though the question doesn't seem bad.

My (19NB) mom (54F) is not a very good parent. Things were not great when I was a kid, to say the least. It's complicated to get into so I'm gonna glaze over most of it and say I plan to go low/no contact when I'm older and can afford to support myself on my own. For now I'm amicable since I need help while getting through college. This has been my plan for a WHILE but I've started to feel a little guilty?

My biggest issue with my mom is the way that she treats/treated my siblings. Sometimes she gets on my nerves but I know I have the privilege of being the youngest (and the favorite) therefore my parents don't pull the same kind of bullshit with me. For example one of my siblings had family therapy with her, and she would frequently not show up and leave them to do the exercises with the other families in the group session that they didn't know. She also complained about their suicide attempt. She talks down to my oldest sister because she couldn't pursue the medical career my parents wanted because she couldn't deal with the cadavers, and since she spent her whole education trying to reach their standards she's been lost trying to figure out what she wants for herself, and my parents keep harping on her for not having a career plan and being "useless". This is only the tip of the iceberg, and it's plenty enough for me to feel justified in my decision to eventually go no contact. I am not asking if AITA for cutting her off, that is not where the guilt is.

It's always been the case that instead of directly saying she was wrong my mom would spend a lot of money on us and buy gifts (usually stuff she likes and not what we like, but I figured out I could leverage her guilt to buy specific things bc free stuff ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ even if I don't forgive her). I think this is because she didn't have much money growing up so now she's a shopaholic now that she has the money to do so (both my parents are in the medical field so they are far from poor. abt upper middle class). She also keeps defending our uncle despite us bringing up how he's creepy and pervy and makes us uncomfortable, and she has some... interesting political takes (like defending the price of insulin being so high???)

My mom I think has been trying to be better but she still never apologizes for any of her actions and is guilt trippy by saying stuff abt how we all think shes a bad mom that caused all her kids to be depressed and suicidal. So its not enough of an improvement for me to forgive her, but I do notice that she walks away from situations sometimes rather than blow her fuse, and she's more tolerant of my ADHD and queerness than she used to be. And she's been trying to be more supportive of me and my decision to pursue an art career. I do believe that people can get better and change themselves, I just think in the case of my mom it's too little too late (and she hasn't improved her relationship with my siblings as much). I've also been polite and friendly since I'm still living with her.

So like, this combined with me accepting her gifts makes me think I'm leading her on? Like she thinks that she's salvaging a relationship with one of her kids and that I'll stay. And I feel a little bad about that. Like if it was JUST the gifts I would feel no guilt bc if she thinks she can bribe her way into our good graces without changing her behavior than shes gonna be down money and still have no kids. But shes trying to improve, albeit slowly and not when we needed her, but better nonetheless. So it feels less "this is the least she could do given the trauma" and more "i feel like i'm taking advantage of her".

One of my siblings refuses to accept her money on principle (they've already moved out) and it makes me think I should probably do the same, but also i dont know if I can since I don't have a job yet and I'm still in school, so maybe just refuse the gifts thing? But neither of my siblings seem to have an issue with my relationship with her, so maybe I shouldn't feel bad? She's treating me better so I feel I have less justification for using her wealth for my own benefit, even if I still don't forgive her for how she treated my siblings.

Basically, AITA for still accepting guilt money/gifts from my shitty mom despite planning on cutting her off later on?

What are these acronyms?

[nikoisme]

Alright Achilles and Patroclus headcanons take 2:

-Patroclus is older than Achilles (this is canon but it's fine),, not by much, in my head it's about 2 years;

-They are the same height!

-Before Patroclus killed the boy over dice, they got into a fight and Patroclus ended up breaking his nose. It healed with a slight deformity and he has a bit of problems with breathing through his nose;

-I portray Achilles with amber/hazel-ish eyes,, but i'm so tempted to change them to blue purely because of this:

-Achilles and Patroclus got along immediately. You know how some kids in kindergarten are best friends and maybe swore a blood oath by the end of the first day? That's them.

-Chiron had to constantly keep them from getting into trouble and getting killed. They were really reckless as kids.

-Patroclus almost never gets sick. Even when he does, it's nothing serious. Achilles on the other hand? He's the first to catch a cold or any sickness. The moment it gets slightly colder he is sick;

-Achilles is an excellent swimmer and can hold his breath underwater longer than average;

-It's not that Achilles is afraid of Patroclus' dogs,, he just avoids them. Doesn't think much about them, but they kind of tolerate each other based on their shared love for Patroclus.

-Achilles and Patroclus kind of have this little.. grudge against each other since they were kids. It started with Achilles tripping Patroclus. Then Patroclus returned it by letting a branch hit Achilles (he didn't hold it for Achilles to pass,, he just let go of it and it smacked him in the face). And that whole "oh you'll fucking see for this" thing extended through adulthood;

-Patroclus' sense of humor I talked about here;

-Also he has a habit of boasting over someone he's killed and just cracking jokes as he kills them, and usually someone of the Achaeans will hear him and go "oh my gods" and just burst into laughter;

-He does that partially because Trojans will obviously be pissed off and rush forward,, but he just wants them to come closer so he can kill them;

-On that topic, Achilles doesn't really know how to joke. He doesn't understand most of the jokes, and frankly doesn't like them. He only understands Patroclus' humor and slowly learned his own as time went on. Also he is shit at recognizing tone of voice (that's why he is on complicated terms with odysseus. never knows if he is fucking with him or not).

-And my interpretation of their relationship here;

-Thetis and Patroclus never interacted much, but she is quite fond of him;

-While Patroclus gets along with pretty much everyone in camp, he isn't afraid to call out anyone's bullshit.

-For example; he gets along just fine with Odysseus (they often talk about dogs :D) but he is willing to get into an argument with him any time.

-On the other hand, Achilles and Odysseus get along great on some days, but on some days they can't stand each other's guts.

-You know how we talk about how Patroclus has to hold Achilles back when he gets mad? I stand by that. But whenever Patroclus gets mad, he has to be held back by several people (that usually being Achilles, Automedon and/or Phoenix). He needs to be given a lot of time to calm down.

-On that topic, Patroclus has so much rage stuffed inside of him. He just chooses to remain calm and collected and find a reasonable solution for things,, but as a result he is a ticking bomb just waiting to explode. He usually takes that rage out on the battlefield.

-Patroclus and Achilles aren't constantly next to each other in battle. They are always ready to rush in and help on other sides of the battlefield, then they get distracted and just fight their way through. But they always somehow spawn next to each other. One will turn around and see the other just fighting next to him out of nowhere.

-Achilles doesn't really mind blood (he literally spills it every day). But he kind of freaks out when he sees his own, whether it's a nose bleed or whatever. On the other hand Patroclus tends to his own wounds by himself like it's nothing.

-Now, they are both formidable warriors on their own. A Trojan soldier will see Achilles and while that's horrible on its own,, he can't help but think where is the other one??? And then he gets killed from behind by Patroclus. They like to ambush soldiers like that.

-Patroclus is the one who listens to Nestor's long stories. Listen, everyone at camp respects the man, but they always find a way to get Patroclus to do the listening instead of them. He takes one for the team.

-Also Achilles gets nosebleeds often.

-Patroclus and Menelaus were really good friends! And after Patroclus was killed, guilt was devouring Menelaus from the inside.

-Antilochus kept a very close eye on Achilles after Patroclus died. He is also one of the first/only people Achilles let into his life after Patroclus.