#daisuke is the sun | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

satoruhour · 8 months

Note

i need jealous racer geto hes js so whudurieiw and the way u write about himm🤭🤭

LUVRGIRL

a/n: eeuuughh idk whether to like this or not but enjoy nonetheless !!! not so much of racing but the sentiment is there lol. previous part (lloromannic) here / @screampied @kizoken @t4kio @redskyvenus @mysugu @suguruplsr @slttygeto ✶

wc: 6.3k

warnings: racer!geto, soft dom!geto, fem!reader, sprinkle of fluff, pet names, praise, ldr, phone sex, masturbation (both f and m), fantasising, daisuke is being annoying again!!!!, sorta jealousy plot point, brief dry humping, oral (f! receiving) / cunnilingus, clit stimulation, fingering, unprotected p -> v sex, breeding / creampie kink, implied multiple rounds, n*sfw under the cut

the next six months were torture, indefinitely. it was an endless heap of assignments, of deadlines, of long-distance calls with your love that you both were so close to booking flights of your own. university was brutal, too. on top of tuition fees and getting the materials for your classes, it was heart-wrenching to even look at the prices of the flights from your country to japan, so you bit down your pride and subjected yourself to settling for the long-distance arrangement.

“hey, baby,” geto mumbles sleepily and your frown deepens upon forgetting that tuesdays was where he slept early. you still had to call, though, but you realise it too late when he answers with that groggy, raspy voice of his. there’s some ruffling behind the call, no doubt the sounds of his bedsheets as he gets himself comfortable while you huddle at the small nook of your room that’s next to the window.

from here you can see the sun setting, a totally different story in japan where you can hear geto yawn and down a glass of water next to his bed.

“shit . . sorry su, i forgot—”

he scrambles to reassure you, awake and sat up, “no! no— no, it’s okay . .” you wince when you hear him yawn yet again, but this time he sounds a little more in the realm of consciousness. you’re unaware of the smile forming on his face just from hearing your voice, fidgety fingers squeezing and releasing the duvet over him, “what are you up to, my love?”

you hum into the phone and you’ve never wanted to backpack across the seven seas to see someone so bad before. now on month nine, your excitement’s become even more prominent at wanting to end the semester as soon as possible, willing your lips not to mutter out the arrangement you’ve been planning with his group of friends.

“just needed a break from studying for finals. i’m dying,” you lament over the line and your heart flutters at his chuckle, something you miss against your ears and skin immensely, “just wish you were here . .”

“yeah?” and you have to squeeze your eyes shut and rub your thighs together at the soft, rough yeah he mumbles out. you can imagine it too: sitting against his headboard half-naked while the duvet pools around his waist area. he’s sitting there like plaster sculpted by Monti while his hair flows around him. you almost squeal and your boyfriend only catches just the start of it.

“what? what was that?” he asks and your hand is clasped so hard over your mouth like a captor’s got your hostage, but you only let out a breath.

“n-nothing,” you laugh, picking yourself up from the nook and getting yourself comfortable in bed. it’s been a long day of studying, anyway, and your next exam isn’t until five days later. you could afford some downtime, right?

“but,” you sigh, turning on your side and sneakily slipping a hand into your pants, “my day’s boring. it’s all studyin’. why don’t you tell me what you did today, instead?” you can hear your parents already preparing dinner outside, but you press on and try to drain out the intrusive noises of cutlery and porcelain and the incessant calls of your mom to your dad for some help on the stove.

“alright,” he drags the word out and laughs again, getting comfortable in his bed just like you do, but your end goals are entirely different, “but it is pretty boring as well. it was maintenance day today.”

“oh!” you remember him briefly mentioning that the other day — since halloween was approaching, there was bound to be more patrolling policemen around the streets and underground, so races had to be put on hold for the meantime. there was still other more secluded areas to race, but geto didn’t want to risk his Mazda being taken away nor for a stain to appear on his clean academic record.

“changing the crankshaft? i know the old one was giving you loads of trouble,” you mumble, feeling your cunt pulse and throb from the breathing you can hear over the line, “among . . other things.”

“yeah, my baby’s so smart for remembering, huh?” he praises, continuing to go on about his day. while it was merely taking-care-of-his-car day, it was still way more eventful than yours. he had went on a solo day out to your beloved café to relish in the good times, he had hung out with gojo for a while and drank some beer atop the mountain they frequented, even went out for some arcade fun.

“unfortunately—” geto’s low voice spurs you on. you’ve been lazily rubbing at your pussy, just humming into the phone while you only descend more and more into pleasure, “it’s taken a hole out of my allowance, i guess. my dad’s more generous with the parts that he gives me but at the same time i feel like he knows what i’m doing underground.”

he laughs and you fake a giggle, but your breaths are starting to get heavier with each sentence he utters, mind filling with flashbacks of how many ways he’s bent you over to fuck you, drunk on the phantom-like winds upon your ear that sound like he’s whispering all those filthy things to you. “and . . just missin’ my girl.”

“how’ve you been, baby?” he asks with a low voice, like he knows what you’re doing and the term of possession only has you sucking in a breath, fingers slip inside you after possibly a decade of teasing and you find it hard to answer. “darling?”

“y-yeah, ’m still here,” you pant out, afraid of being caught, but your voice quivers enough just for geto to catch on to what you were up to. he didn’t fault you, though (he never blames his girl), but there is a small smirk that forms on his face. he purposely lowers his voice even more, if it was possible, mirroring and mimicking your breathy tone when talking to him.

but with one hand that goes down to his pelvis, he doesn’t have to mimic you at all, hand palming languidly at his bulge. in the dead of the night, there wasn’t much need to keep his voice down in order to hear the pretty moans falling from your mouth; he does anyway.

it’s too shitty of a reception especially with your nokia’s, so he hears the artificial, metallic-like voice coming from his phone, but your sounds are just too lovely, transcending the robotic-ness of a phone call. and it’s like you’re actually there, smiling mischievously at him while stroking his cock and teasing him the way he liked to be teased.

“s-sugu?” you mumble, mind heading into the extremes and confident now that he’s just weirded out and silent, but it’s anything but that.

“yes, baby?” he hums, smiling to himself when he hears rustling over the phone and he can imagine you lifting your hips to remove your panties, tossing it somewhere across the room. “wanna tell me what you’re doin’?”

you suck in a breath — so he knows — but suguru always knows everything so you’re whining into the receiver, pleasantly surprised when he replies with a deep groan that only makes you clench around nothing.

“that’s right . .” he drawls and you hear a soft thud over the line, and now you’re the one quieting your movements just to hear your boyfriend, the faint shlick shlick sounds of his hand along his cock. geto gasps when he squeezes his tip just like how you do it, pre-cum starting to leak. “need you h-here, doll . .”

you mewl softly and start the hand on your clit again, abandoning the tight hold around your phone just so you can use the other to slip your fingers into your warm cunt. it doesn’t even compare to the thickness and length of geto’s dick, but you have to work with what you have. with head turned toward the speaker, your boyfriend has gone non-verbal, too, moaning like a slut into the receiver.

“suguru, i’m— please . .” you whine softly, hips bucking into your hands, “doesn’t feel as g— good.”

geto coos inwardly at your needy voice, mouth falling open at his rock hard cock. it’s so hard that it hurts, left to merely fuck his fleshlight whenever he could and use his hand on other days. he missed your sweet fucking pussy so, so much, just picturing your beautiful arched back that lifts off the sheets and your shaking thighs. he imagines your perfect pout on your face as you finger yourself, unsatisfied, obviously, begging him with tugs to his hands and his eyes flutter close.

“i know, baby, and ’m sorry,” he mumbles, taking the nokia from his ear to put it right up to his relentless pumping and you swallow, the slick, wet sounds more clear now. “but you hear what ya do t’me, don’t you?”

“mhm . .” you trail off, thinking of his fat cock impaling you instead, and you follow his actions to a T, bringing it right to your sopping cunt and geto has to scrunch his already shut eyes just to wish that his hand was your pussy. your hand is getting tired, he’s sure, but you finger yourself so prettily his hand easily speeds up, giving his shaft periodic squeezes.

“so wet, suguu . .” you drag out his name, already feeling your high approach soon, but you want the both of you to cum together. “i miss you stretchin’ me out . .” a hiss from suguru, “i miss your cum spilling out of me.”

that has geto choking out a whine, “f—fuck, sweetheart, don’t say that. i do miss g-giving you all of my cum—”

the filthiness of everything contributes to all your senses, parents omitted from memory, your finals at the back of your mind and only focusing on the envelope that resides on your bedside table containing a plane ticket. in one week you’d be able to see him again — a sweet treat given to you by gojo and nanami with their combined expenses.

you didn’t even know how you could thank them and while nanami waves you off for any payback, gojo did say you could treat him to anything in that café. it was difficult not to be excited, a louder whine drawn from your throat again and he laughs breathlessly, voice down low and distraught.

“any particular reason w-why my girl’s so needy lately—?”

geto basically chokes out his question while you shake your head until you remember that he can’t see you, answering with a broken “no”.

you resist the urge to spill on the exact reason — your mind spiralling from the anticipation of meeting him, the many, many lewd memories you’ve made over six months, his just-woken-up voice — because he’d never let you live it down.

“c-close, suguru—” your thighs are squeezed tight around your tired hand, sensitive from the immense overstimulation, “’m g’nna cum soon—!”

“me too, my love,” geto’s eyes are back open, trained on his cock and watching the sheer neediness shown in his weeping tip and bucking hips. he needs this, he needs you, and once you’re submitting your final paper, he’s sure to look at flights right to your doorstep.

“i’m c—” you’re whining out, body totally turned over and lying on your stomach as you chase your high, fuelled by the deep guttural groans of your boyfriend. your lips and mind are only filled with suguru, suguru, suguru, not even caring that your sheets are soaked and your fingers are cramping.

“baby, baby, baaaby . . s—shit—” geto reaches his release first, mind filled with replenished memories of your tight pussy hugging his cock, spurts of white spilling all over himself with a loud groan and you’re left to listen out for the desperate sounds of your boyfriend miles away, lengthening his climax as he continues to pump himself. “cum all over your fingers, doll . .”

suguru coaxes in that sweet voice of his, mumbling deep into the phone only for you. “doing so, so good, aren’t ya?” the quietness on his end, the slow lazy stroking of his hand again, and you’re cumming all over your fingers, eyes blown wide from the orgasm that he talks you through while you ride it out on your mediocre fingers. your mouth is stained with endless profanities and moans mixed with geto’s name, muffled by the bedsheets you’re so harshly biting into to prevent any loud, unbecoming sounds.

“that good?” he asks with a laugh, yawning yet again and you feel guilty again—

“i’m sorry, s—”

“no. don’t, doll, don’t apologise,” suguru brushes his thumb over his thigh, partially wiping off the cum and partially hoping he can relax the furrow of your brow like he always does. “you’re frowning and your shoulders are up, probably, relax . .”

you sigh, another thing that geto values a lot and has taught to you; deep breaths and untensing all parts of your body.

“good girl, was that good?”

“the phone sex or the deep breaths?”

geto grins. god, he missed you so fucking much — “both.”

“both was very good, thank you very much,” you giggle, not paying much mind to the way you remove your fingers from your cunt, turning over to the bedside table to take some tissues, “although the sex was a little better.”

“aw, no wins for the intense, groundbreaking, spirit-calming deep breaths?”

you shake your head (you’ve got to stop doing that), “ehh . . it was alright.”

geto’s reluctant sleepiness grants you a few more minutes together, his words starting to slur more and more the longer you were on the line, but you can’t say you don’t enjoy it. with fatigue came the words laced with unhindered affection, murmuring softly about hoping to see you soon, to feel you, to kiss you, and you expressed the same sentiment back to him.

the other switches the output to speaker, wanting to take in the messily taken profile pic he set your contact with. a blurred, blinding smile with his face squished against yours; a little below the two of you, berry and cherry clutched within your palms, doing the same. “can my girl do her best for her finals?”

“i can’t promise the best, but i’ll try . . okay?”

geto hums, a soft smile on his face. he’s cleaned up by now, new sweatpants on and duvet pulled right to his neck while he stares at your face, the pixels of the nokia never diluting your beauty.

“attagirl. have a good dinner, lovergirl.”

that knocks some breath out of you, and you grin like a schoolgirl.

“have a goodnight’s sleep, loverboy.”

you bounce on your heels impatiently when the plane finally lands, waiting for the throngs of people on the flight to leave through the bridge, but it’s taking ages, speed walking once you’re out. you wanted to be the first at the luggage conveyor belt, you needed to be the first passenger of your flight to be out of the arrival doors.

without the rush of the people and the striking colours of your boyfriend’s friends’ hair colours, it wasn’t too difficult to run up to them for a big hug.

“(y/n)~!” gojo drags out your name, waving you over excitedly and bringing the both of you into a group hug. nanami is adamant on being the ever broody racer, but you catch the ghost of a smile when he wraps a careful arm around your shoulders.

“how was the flight, (y/n)?” the blonde’s firm but concerned voice cuts through the chaos of the white-haired man.

“don’t ask lame questions like thaaaat, nanami! you’ll just bore me—” and a resounding smack! is then heard, and gojo’s clutching the back of his head in pain, the other taking the opportunity to lead you away from gojo’s antics and offering to help with your luggages. without words, nanami already feels your nervousness, patting your back in solidarity.

“hey— hey! oi!”

gojo slams the door to his car. “okay, we’ve painstakingly tried to hold suguru back whenever he was about to book flights—” gojo mentions in the car on the ride there, taking way too quick turns for your liking with your luggage going to town in the trunk. its thumps against the roof and sides always seem to interrupt the conversation with the white-haired man, but he seemed too much in a hurry to care. “think it was almost eight separate times!”

“thank you— ah!” you almost lurch forward at the amber light, but gojo decided at the last minute that he was just going to run it — braking then speeding it up all over again.

“you know, for a racer, you’re a terrible civilian driver . .” you groan once you reach the mouth of the familiar car park that you frequented in your six months in japan, but now that gojo’s easily manoeuvres the car to a slow, the adrenaline of the fast drive changes into something of dread, of a dizzying feeling.

what if suguru didn’t want to see you anymore? what if he already booked himself a flight and was nowhere to be found? what if he’s cheat—

your hands are clammy, not even present to how gojo calls out from you from the driver’s seat. cautiously, he’s putting a hand on your shoulder (because god forbid gojo touched anything of suguru’s, both Mazda and girlfriend), and shaking you out of your daze.

you catch glimpses of his sentences: “all . . talks about . . trust . . no girl has . .” but you stop his rambling with frantic slaps to his shoulder. you know you shouldn’t be jumping to conclusions but it’s hard not to when the scene is clear as day. suguru is never one to cheat — from the six months you’ve known him, from the many calls and check-ins the two of you do over the line.

defying time zones, fighting fatigue . . for this?

but you know better to list your lover as the instigator, especially from how this other girl was just hovering all over his Mazda, sticking her ass out and trailing her hand all over his finishing. that was one thing — but geto isn’t making any move to shove her off, only looking at her through hooded lids that could definitely drive anyone off. she wasn’t affected, though.

you’re not listening to gojo even when you step out of the car, already used to the curious eyes that rake over you and your figure — curiosity turns into recognition and then shock when they see how your boyfriend acts, but before you can actually make your way toward them, another man sidles up to you.

oh my god, it’s daisuke. you sigh loudly, knowing how gojo had dealt with him before and how much of an asshole he is, but all he does is look you up and down, not giving one fuck to how the subject of his embarrassment was sitting right in the driver’s seat.

“hey, babygirl.” you want to vomit from that one greeting alone, but you try not to pay him much mind. “what’s a pretty lady like you doin’ out here?”

“don’t your sorry ass have a girlfriend?” daisuke doesn’t even begin to digest the insult, and you think that he’s a masochist with how much he sets himself up for getting insulted, but then the girl’s eyes meet yours — she’s in his pictures, she’s in his wallet, you’ve seen her when this loser beside you blatantly brags about his girl. you’d feel sorry for her but it seems she’s as stupid as him.

they’re exactly that — realising you just walked yourself into one big jealousy scheme planned by the biggest jokers of the underground racing scene, your suspicions are confirmed when his eyes are also locked on his girlfriend with your boyfriend of all people, making sure she sees that he’s all up in your space. she’s doing the same, but when she actually tries to touch him is when geto finally does something, and the jealous burn in your heart quells a bit.

geto’s too smart to be mingling around with her, you hope, when you hear him mutter something to her and you smile to yourself when she cowers under his stare and words.

“you touch my fuckin’ car one more time and i’m sure to drive both you and your loser boyfriend, out of here forever. you can take your clown asses to another parking lot and race there and then i won’t have to see your faces any more,” his hold around his wrist isn’t harsh, but it is firm, and he prevents her from leaving until she gets his message, “plus i have a girl i’m obsessed with. take your lame jealous charade somewhere else and maybe go to couples’ therapy. you two clearly need it.”

and when she looks at you again — you think it’s how your identity settles in her mind — she yelps and finally runs away at the daggers you give, not even sparing a glance to daisuke who’s carefully scooching closer to you. but just as he tries to wrap his arm around your waist, your eyes catch suguru’s.

his eyes soften for just a moment; it was just like the café. his palms turn sweaty and he feels like he could collapse — but now you’re looking just a little different. he wasn’t sure if it was because of your hair or the tiredness from exams, but you’re still as stunning as the day he led you out of the parking lot.

geto cannot resist giving you a big grin, but it quickly fades when his gaze falls on daisuke beside you and a scowl appears. and while your body’s already distancing yourself from the man’s crusty ass lips, you feel a throb go right down to your core when the same annoyed glower forms across his features: eyebrows pulled taut, long strides, muscles bulging in the wifebeater he’s got on.

six months away from your man has clearly done things to you.

with one smooth swoop, geto has you pulled flush against him, not even looking as he uses his free hand to grab at daisuke’s neckline before he leans in to kiss you. it’s admittedly a little embarrassing, cause your body reacts so readily to him, tits pressed against his chest while your fingers tangle themselves in his long hair. he tastes like cigarettes and cherries like always and you moan softly into his mouth when his hands wander right down to your ass to give it a squeeze.

“satoru’s not very good at hiding secrets, unfortunately,” geto spills and you pout, surprise ruined by the loud mouth of his friend, but before he gives you his undivided attention, he tugs daisuke closer, roughly. “but that don’t mean i ain’t happy to see ya, baby.”

geto laughs at your flustered state, until his expression darkens again — “you have a lot of nerve touching my girl.”

“I—i didn’t! she was basically begging for me to touch her.”

“don’t you—”

“p-plus! my girl was all up over you too, so i thought i’d give her a little lovin’—”

geto almost smashes his jaw in. either way, he lands a clean punch to his face that has daisuke writhing on the floor, clutching his mouth in pain but that doesn’t deter daisuke one bit who sits up . . and then is immediately beaten down again with a boot to his chest. your boyfriend leans down and looks him straight in the eye.

“i’m cancelling my race just so i can make my girl scream my name loud enough for you, because you could never fuck her or anyone that good with your shit dick game,” geto scoffs, “and forget girls, you can’t even win enough races to rise up the ranks. you’ve embarrassed yourself enough, don’t you think?”

suguru doesn’t bother waiting for an answer, only ushering you toward his Mazda parked in the familiar corner, easily shooting a text to gojo to cancel the race as he mentioned just so he could . .

with windows down, you relish again in the tokyo night air, the hand that you miss so much on your thigh, the alluring voice he’s speaking to you in, the beauty of geto suguru. everything looked the same since you left, from the photos he’s put up on the dashboard, the berry keychain hanging from the rear view mirror, the outer orange coating of his car.

“i—”

“i’m sorry, my love,” suguru leaps forward to apologise, stopping the car abruptly. you’ve already reached your destination but, it seems he wants to say something first.

“why are you apologising?”

he frowns, bringing his hand to cradle your cheek. easily, you’re leaning into the touch, closing your eyes. “for ruining the surprise, for that stupid fight with daisuke, for letting my emotions take over.”

you mirror him, features also deepening in somberness. “you didn’t do anything — if anything, you were a victim of his girlfriend too. but . . seeing her be all over you, made me think the worst after not seeing you for six months.”

geto’s eyes soften yet again (he simply can’t help it around you), using both hands to hold you, now, and you float into his arms like a feather, like he’s in command. you let him guide you into the driver’s seat, faces so close and just hoping to touch after so many months apart.

“i . . i love you,” he swallows, brushing the hair from your face. you find that he’s shaking and breathing so heavily you’d think he was hyperventilating, but he gathers courage on a deep breath and continues, “i have since you left. right after, i went home to cry.”

“oh . .” your lip juts out, eyebrows downturned and eyes filling just a little, “oh, sugu . .”

“i just have always wanted to say it, i guess,” he chuckles, sniffling to hide his true emotions, “i just didn’t know whether i should say it over the phone where it would sound cheap; b-but, you don’t have to say it back, of course—”

you smile through tears, pressing a peck to his forehead in gratitude, “it wouldn’t sound like it to me, but i appreciate you waiting until i returned,” geto relishes in your lips upon his skin again, and he doesn’t think he could survive another day, another minute, another second without you, “i have, too, but i’m not sure when. it definitely includes the time you set alarms to wake me up for exams, though.”

he laughs freely at the memory now, of alarms interrupting his dinners and his parents asking “another call?”, but they let him do whatever, happy to hear their boy joking and laughing over the call with his mystery partner. you giggle, using your thumbs to wipe away the tears that did fall, letting the interior fluorescent light of the Mazda illuminate the features you love so much, all belonging to the man you pined over from many miles away.

“i love you too, suguru — stumbling into that random car park was the best thing i’ve ever done.”

“well, it might’ve not turned out as well if some other group had gotten to you first,” his thumb plays with your bottom lip and brings you to him, “’m just glad i got to ya in time . .”

“yeah? what if you didn’t at all?”

“then i would’ve made sure i’d find you in any way that i can, even if i had to beat up a thousand daisukes.”

that makes you giggle at little, a sliver of eye contact shared with your lover before he engulfs you in a rough kiss and your moan reaches the heavens, body so sensitive from being away from his touch that you jolt when he wraps an arm around your waist.

“relax, baby,” geto chuckles, speaking against your lips, “take it slow.”

“but i don’t wanna . .” you whine softly, clinging to him in surprise when he pulls a lever next to his seat and the backrest falls all the way down.

“ah!” you grin, “new mod?”

suguru barks out in laughter, “ya caught me. i got it modified yesterday.”

“so you could do dirty things like this?”

he rolls his eyes with a blinding smile, just so, so happy he’s got you back in his arms again, “exactly that.”

the other willingly shows you just what the modification can take, both hands spread out on your ass and pulling you onto his crotch. your core already feels the half-hard bulge under him, using your hips to grind down even more along him. everything feels like too much, after so long away from him that you already feel your high approaching from simply grinding your clit against him and he teases.

“you g’nna cum, already?” he grins slyly, suddenly moving his hips to meet yours that has a broken mewl leaving your throat.

“b—been too long away from you . .” you admit a little sheepishly, using his shirt as an anchor while you continue to grind your cunt into his front, only your panties and his trousers separating the contact of skin. but with how your body jerks in pleasure, you’d think there was nothing between the both of you. “i need you, quick.”

geto says nothing but help you with small pants, the backlighting from the headlines accentuating your figure so nicely that he grunts out your name in between swears, soon stuttering your syllables once he feels you still on his lap with arched back and throbbing cunt. he can feel you, feel you squeezing around him even when he wasn’t in you.

“guess your fingers were pretty crap, h-huh?” massaging your sides, you hum in disapproval at his cheeky smirk, hoping to change that when he lets you do whatever: you pull him up by his shirt and open the door to his car, pushing at him to get out. you don’t day anything and he already knows what you want when you spread your legs, biting his lip at the wet patch on the pretty set you decided to don.

and even with witnessing this sight over and over, you’re never used to the way geto worships you, reveres you, when he kneels down on straight gravel. he doesn’t care if his pants are littered with small specks of dust and dirt, whether he knees start to hurt, but he only has his eyes set on your alluring cunt, finger delicate when he pulls your panties to the side but just brutal when his mouth meets your clit.

“su— s-shit—!” is all you can manage, hearing the other breathe through his nose once his mouth latches on your pussy. it’s something that he hasn’t tasted since long ago, and he’d be damned to let you go again, so he takes the opportunity to savour your arousal, switching between flicking and sucking on your clit like a starved man.

“she tastes so fuckin’ good hmmff—” his eyes meet yours and he feels you squeeze around nothing, making a show of letting you watch how his tongue circles your bud, down to your hole and up again, slurping up your juices sloppily. “i hope this pussy’s missed me as much as i missed her, yeah?”

“y-yeah . .” you moan out softly, legs moving apart more to get more of him, pelvis humping against his face so much that he has to hold it down with a hand. your pre is dripping all over his leather seats and onto the floor, but he makes sure not to spill any more from the way he scoops it up and prods at your entrance.

“let your pussy do the talkin’, baby,” he mumbles drunkenly, pushing in a finger past your walls and the stretch is already so much better than your own. your jaw hangs open in ecstasy, body already bucking and craving for more when he pushes his thicker finger all the way in and it’s no problem for geto to slip the other in, “she’s sucking me in so well, can she do this to my cock too? hm?”

wordlessly, you’re nodding, catching a whisper of good girl before he’s back on your sopping pussy, sucking up and swallowing all of your arousal that it’s downright filthy, the noises echoing throughout the space. geto doesn’t waste any time pumping his digits, moving them in tandem with his tongue.

“s—suguru . .” you whine, struggling to keep your eyes open from the sheer pleasure, and you’re met with the vision that you can never get enough of — your racer boyfriend’s tongue out, hooded lids and soaked chin — and he grants you a little more of euphoria, groaning loudly into your pussy. with each minute, he’s only getting harder, unbelievably so, so your fantasy cut short when he removes his fingers and mouth with a pop! and laughs at your needy whine.

“you’ve been away too long, come,” geto stands to give you a kiss first, letting you taste yourself, “i need to be in you, darlin’.”

and so when he first slips in, it feels like heaven on earth, his leaking tip nudging past your folds and right into your warm cunt that he whines so loudly, long hair falling all about his face and body. you’re not different, nails digging in his skin at the stretch that you’ve missed, cock so much longer and thicker than your fingers.

“t-this is better than any fleshlight, fuuckk . .” he mutters to himself, one hand holding your ankle up and the other holding your bent knee. he’s hoping the modification he made to his car wouldn’t give up on him, because he knows he won’t be able to hold back once you’ve adjusted. but when you start moving earlier than he expects, he doesn’t give you the chance, slamming right up to the hilt until you’re shivering and clenching around him.

“g—god, r-right there, sugu—” you preen, nothing but incoherent and repeated sentences mumbled by you over and over, “feels s’full . .”

“y-yeah? tha’ it?” you don’t need the shitty light of the abandoned parking lot to make you look beautiful, you’re doing it all on your own when your body arches towards him and your legs shiver in his hold, catching glimpses of just how wet you were — juices smeared along your inner thighs, a clear sheen of it along his length, all thanks to the lighting. “so sloppy, huh . . listen to ’er.”

geto emphasises his thrust, in, out, and in, out, just for you to hear your dripping pussy dragging along his shaft, one of the things of yours that makes him go insane.

“all because of you,” you babble mindlessly, fingers expressing your need for him and he listens like he always does, body hovering over yours just to kiss you and because of that he’s thrusting all the more deeper into you as you break the kiss with a loud moan. geto laughs against your lips, hips making quick work to make sure he stays in his new angle, and he’s rewarded with your lewd pleas for him.

he’s ramming into you so perfectly, mushroom tip just barely brushing against your cervix each time that it has your mouth permanently open in pure pleasure.

“well . . you’re the only doll to get me hard and needy like this . .” he chuckles again, kissing down your neck to make sure you get blue and black into your skin, “and i fuckin’ love her for it.”

with a shaky hand you pull on his ruined ponytail, “s-say it again.”

“i love you,” suguru almost whispers, afraid of breaking the silence.

“again . .”

“i love you, sweetheart,” that makes you bend into his hold, undoubtedly.

“again, suguru—”

his hips are relentless, still moving even through his pussydrunk confessions, “i love you— i-i love you, i love you. so, goddamn, much— s-shiiit . .”

“m-me too, su . . i love you— i—” your arms trap him, circling around his neck and making sure he stays close to you and he pushes on your knees more, fat cock fucking into you in a more open mating press, knowing you’re close by how your toes curl and your stomach contracts, by how your pussy flutters around his mouth and soft needy sighs turn into wanton moans. he’s got you mapped out, memorised, all from his devotion to you.

“i know, baby, you’re close, y—yeah?”

he feels you nod, thighs starting to burn from the position but while your pussy keeps sucking him in, he’s sure to continue to slam into you, making sure all four walls of the parking lot hear the obscene sounds of his balls slapping against your ass.

“c’mon, cum with me, princess,” he murmurs, lightheaded with the tightness and warmth of your pussy. it’s a wonder he hasn’t cummed already, sneaking one hand in between your bodies to rub at your clit. your moans are rendered inaudible, only managing pathetic squeaks before you’re tipped over the edge and you’re whimpering so loudly into his car, cum dripping down and out your cunt and right to your ass.

your pussy flutters with geto’s continued thrusts, prompting him to reach his release right after with a deep groan, hips stuttering in your sensitive pussy until he’s spilling his load, white and hot. it’s just so, so goddamn much, stuffing your hole full of his cum that it has no choice to spill and dribble out when he removes his cock, the sight just so mesmerising to him.

“p—please,” your energy is far from used up, turning your body over just so you can present your ass to him. face squished into the driver’s seat, you use both hands to spread your cum-filled pussy, just asking for more and geto only smiles with a certain lilt in his voice. “need more, suguru . .”

“that’s my lovergirl.”

2K notes · View notes

minniepetals · 1 year

Text

cry me a river | the unprepared

— summary: no one is ever prepared to be broken, even if they think they are, and breaking again and again does not make you numb to the pain

— pairing: bts x reader

— genre: angst, mafia!au

— word count: 7.0k

— warnings: slight ptsd trigger

— PART 23 / previous post / masterpost

“Would you be able to send this letter to the address written on it? Personally?”

The girl you saved is named Ester, and without fail, people whose lives have been saved often feel indebted to their savior, so you know it would be right to have a little faith in her when you give her this task.

And as expected, she’s nodding without question and goes on her merry way.

It was the first thing you asked of her after all, because when you told her you had no need for the help she wanted to offer you with the injuries you sustained at the party along with wanting to help you feel comfortable in Alexander’s mansion, you could tell she was immediately angsty and in need of wanting to do anything you asked of her.

Nice girls like her often get taken advantage of.

Well, that’s none of your problem.

You take care of yourself with the treatment Ester provided for you, treating the cuts from where the bullets managed to wheeze past you, and bandaging yourself up before leaving the room provided for you.

Little Kiwi comes barking at your feet before you even reach the grand living room and despite not one to give or show affection, you pick the little thing up albeit reluctantly.

“Kid, isn’t it about time you head to sleep? And don’t lick me again, please, that’s quite rude.”

You hear a gentle chuckle from a familiar deep voice and finally walk into the living room to find both Alexander and Asher already there.

“Dogs don’t necessarily understand rudeness, though he listens to you quite well,” Alexander notes at the obedient puppy in your arms. He doesn’t wiggle around or bark and remains nestled where you hold him. When you take your seat on the sofa with a small space between you and Asher, the old man speaks again. “I heard you refused treatment from my people.”

You clear your throat awkwardly. “Forgive me, I’m not used to foreign touches.”

He knows you don’t mean “foreigners” per se and narrows his gaze slightly, possibly out of curiosity. “You have quite the skills, young lady, for having an unknown name.”

“My name is Y/N,” you tell him, sitting up. “I am a Reaper, the Grim Reaper of South Korea. My father passed away about a year ago, he was a good friend of your son Karl.”

“Karl.” He rubs his chin thinking about it. “So why have you come to Norway? To meet up with Karl?”

“Karl and I have never been that close, sir.” Of course not, you hate that man. Seeing his face alone will make you want to punch him but you know better than that. So keeping yourself calm, you look away to the side where the windows are, covered by pretty rose gold curtains. “I came here because I quite like the way the sun never sets during this time. It brings me peace.”

“You’re on vacation?” He raises a brow, doubtful, and looks toward Asher for confirmation but the man just shrugs without giving him an answer.

“You could say that,” you reply, and the old man clears his throat.

“It takes someone special to dodge all those bullets without managing any fatal injuries,” he returns to the topic of the matter as he leans back into his seat, an ankle propped onto a knee. “My son never mentioned someone like you, or his good friend.”

“The skills I acquired were not from my father, sir.”

“So you had a different master?”

“I was trained by a Yakuza master. He goes by the name Kitagawa Daisuke.”

Kitagawa Daisuke. Anyone who lives in the darkness knows the name. It’s almost like saying Shakespeare and an immediate ding pops into one's head. Your master is that famous in the underground world.

“No wonder..” Alexander looks at you with fascination now, a small crooked smile curling along his lips, eyes brightening. He knows not just anyone can call themself a disciple of Kitagawa Daisuke and it just further proves a point as to how dangerous the mission will be when you finally go up against your master. That is, if time will allow it. Who knows if you’ll even survive this mission.

You’re just dancing around with death at this point and he’s leading the moves.

“Now that you mention it, you have a sort of aura that you exude in the way I’ve seen with Master Kita. You live up to his name, no disciple of his would have let the enemies’ move confuse her.”

He must be talking about how you managed to recognize the motives of the enemies when you realize the focus was not on Alexander himself but his grandson, Asher Larsen.

You give the man a small glance before looking down at the puppy who’s now slowly dozing off in your lap. You give him a small scratch behind the ear, doting on him a bit. Who would have thought even the enemies knew the life of a dog mattered more to Alexander than his own grandson.

So Asher was right when he said Alexander doesn’t have favorites, which means that if someone does manage to gain his favor, it wouldn’t just be in your favor but you’d have more eyes on your back more than before.

Sounds like a headache.

But it’s the only way you can get rid of Karl. Because if you gain Alexander’s favor, it’ll mean he won’t blink an eye when you tell him you want his own son dead.

“Master told me to always keep my senses heightened no matter the situation.”

He hums at the answer and in a way, you hope this little attention you’ve gained from Alexander is enough to gain a bit of his favor. They say Alexander doesn’t like people who deliberately kiss up someone’s shoes to get to where they want. He’s probably had enough of those people. He also likes people who have a backbone and knows how to protect themselves.

“How would you like to be my new caretaker for Kiwi?” The proposal Alexander gives has your head perked up his way, feeling a bit dumbfounded and surprised, but he continues before you can reject or accept the offer. “You’re here on vacation, aren’t you? I’m sure Kiwi would love to continue seeing you until it’s time for you to return home.”

Perhaps he knows a bit of your plan. Perhaps he doesn’t. Either way, he’s giving you a great opportunity to remain seen by his side.

“I know it may sound a lot asking a mafia boss but I quite like you, Miss Y/N.”

“No, it’s quite alright,” you shake your head lightly and look down at the now sleeping puppy in your lap before giving Alexander the answer. “I’d gladly accept.”

He smiles, satisfied, and when he leaves after taking the sleeping puppy from you, you’re left alone with Asher who had been silent the whole exchange between you and Alexander.

“I’m impressed, that was quite the feat. No one’s ever gotten this far this fast.” When you look at the man who’s finally speaking up, there’s a small curl up his lips when he looks your way, and you guess this man is usually stoic for the most part. How great you’re earning a bit of favor from both the grandfather and the grandson.

“I guess it’s just in my nature to have people join my side.” You give him a simple reply, one he does not refute, and the day ends with that.

You don’t get a wink of sleep at all staying there in that mansion and you know it’s because you’re in an unfamiliar place. You’ve never been good at adapting to something new. It took some time for you to settle into the Bangtan manor when you first moved there years ago, but unlike how it was there and back at your own manor, Alexander’s mansion gives you some sort of comfort you’ve never had before.

It’s probably the fact that night never comes. Your room has windows placed at a good spot, where the sun seems to shine through even though there are clouds blocking part of it. It isn’t as bright as it was when you first arrived at the airport but when it still lights up the sky around three am, you’re grateful for being here, in Norway.

Norway is pretty in a way Korea has never been and being here, despite the mission you’re on, gives you a sense of peace and calmness Korea has never given you. It’s a foreign country and yet something about it, something about the sun not being allowed to set and give way to the stars and moon, to the darkness, you have the urge to stay here if you could. Forever if possible.

But peace can never truly stay forever as long as you live this life.

You have people to go after, a revenge plot you’re on. Maybe when everything is over, if you manage to survive in the end and meet your last victim without dying, maybe then you can return here.

But first comes earning Alexander’s favor.

“You’re going to be in charge of taking care of his dog?” Hoseok’s face is a bit comical when you relay them the news once morning comes and you arrive back at the place Namjoon has provided for you. “Just what do you know about taking care of dogs?”

“Not much,” you admit as you scroll through your phone in hopes of learning, “but Alexander’s given me a bit of trust so I might as well take the opportunity. Ah, speaking of,” you put your phone down for a second, looking between the two Bangtan men, “don’t the two of you have some experience in taking care of dogs? You’ll teach me, then.”

It’s a request that comes out of nowhere, especially after just dropping the bomb on them, but it’s not like there’s anything else they can really do.

Namjoon sent them here in support for you and despite the awkward air around each of you, you’re one to ignore all signs and pretend everything is and has always been alright.

“Well an important part of a dog’s routine is taking walks,” Jungkook speaks up after being quiet for a while. His brows are slightly furrowed, thinking. “Mr. Larsen has actually given you quite the task.”

He’s right.

Taking a dog out on walks means being out in the open air where enemy eyes are everywhere. If last night proves that Kiwi serves more purpose to Alexander than his own grandson — and the enemies know that — then being the dog sitter isn’t just any mere maid’s job.

They have to be smart, agile, quick, and strong because they’re looking after what equals an heir.

You’re basically Kiwi’s bodyguard.

“Maybe this is his way of testing me.” It has to be. He couldn’t just have trusted a random stranger to take care of something that clearly means a lot to him. Though that begs the question as to why.

Is it because you mentioned Kitagawa as your master? He’s quite well known after all, and well respected at that.

Still, something’s a little weird.

But if you’re trying to get close to the old man, you might as well take advantage of this while not forgetting to remain cautious.

No one can ever be trusted fully. There is always an ulterior motive behind one’s action.

“I have a question, sir.” When you return to the manor a little later that day, the first person you go to is Alexander, who easily allows you into his proximity just minutes after you asked for his time. You thought initially it’d be a while until you get your reply, after all, he’s a Godfather who’s probably busy with all sorts of things, which is why it’s surprising the reply came so soon and was received well.

His butler didn’t lead you to an office, rather, you found yourself walking into a pretty greenhouse that sort of reminds you of the one back at home.

It’s massive in size though, that’s a difference, but you can clearly tell it’s being taken care of well in the way your Reapers takes care of your greenhouse.

“One moment, Miss Y/N.”

Alexander has his back turned to you when you find him towards a corner, with a water can in hand as he personally feeds the plants the amount of water needed with a serene expression on his face.

Kiwi, who had followed you when you were led by the butler, walks over to respectfully nuzzle against his master’s foot.

“Pretty, aren’t they?” The old man comments with a smile once he’s done watering the plants and places the can back in its place.

“It’s a surprise you’re able to keep them alive here,” you utter as you take another look around at the greens all around you. “I have one back in Korea, though my Reapers take care of them.”

Alexander takes a seat on a bench and Kiwi jumps over to lay on his lap. “Taking care of things personally brings me peace.”

“...Does it, now?” In a world where things are always chaotic, you suppose having somewhere to go to for peace is ideal. “I don’t have a greenhouse for personal taste though.”

“Do you grow poison?” He asks and there’s really no use lying.

“Amongst other things.”

He falls silent for a moment, a serene silence, and it’s strange the way he looks at you in a way no one’s ever done before. You’ve seen creepy old men before, met a couple of them personally against your will, but Alexander doesn’t remind you much of them. He stands out further, but in a way that isn’t bad at all and for some reason that brings you another sort of uncomfortable feeling you don’t think you’ve ever felt before.

It’s strange and foreign, and perhaps he understands the effect he’s made on you because he lets out a light chuckle.

“I used to be just like you, little one.”

Your brows furrow at his words, confused. “I’m not sure I know what you mean, sir.”

“Always in a rush, never stopping to revel in the scenery.”

Because there’s no time for that. Time doesn’t wait for anyone and the enemies certainly don't. You’ve finally gained some sort of peace after your father’s death but even then, letting yourself go in order to be free from the chains isn’t exactly as easy as one may think.

You’re rushing because you want to reach peace, because you want a moment in time when things finally slows down and you’re okay with it, with the clocks existing, with the time ticking.

Peace doesn’t come to just anyone willingly.

“You’re anxious,” Alexander notes and perhaps you’re uncomfortable because he sees through a part of you that only people you allow in sees.

This is why you hate old people.

They can tell so easily because they’ve been through things.

“If I let time catch up on me, there will be nothing left in front of me.”

“Is that what you believe?” He asks, a hand running through Kiwi’s fur as the little dog begins to fall asleep. “What if what you want is already in front of you? Perhaps you just don’t want to face it because you’re afraid.”

Afraid?

Afraid of what?

But maybe he’s right. Maybe you know exactly what he’s talking about.

“You’re running away.”

Yes.

This man certainly does make you uncomfortable.

Not like the creeps, not like Leehyun, but not like Mister Butler either. Though in a way, there’s something familiar that you sense in him in the way you’ve felt with Mister Butler. As if he has a window to see through your soul.

But you’re sure not all old people know everything. They can only guess from what they’ve been given and seen.

You decide to keep your guard up.

“The question you wanted to ask,” perhaps he felt you trying to run from him so he changes the subject, “What was it?”

Right.

“When I take Kiwi out on walks, I’m sure you realize there may be people out there who will take advantage of those times. I don’t know the streets well and I don’t know who means well and who wants Kiwi dead. So I wanted to ask; the people that decide to come after me during Kiwi’s walk time, do you want them dead or alive when I bring them to you?”

So blunt and straight to the point, Alexander chuckles at that, amused.

“I’m sure a disciple of Master Kita will come to understand who poses a threat and who doesn't. I don’t care about the lives of those who want my little puppy dead. It doesn’t matter who they are, if they come after him, kill them. After all,” his eyes are gentle when he looks down at the puppy, though there’s a glint of danger that flashes in the light of his eyes, “only people with evil hearts will want to hurt an innocent puppy.”

Evil hearts. What a strange way to put it that way.

You get too curious not to ask; “Do you believe we aren’t evil? A little kid might subject us to the same category as them. We all kill after all. It doesn’t matter what, it doesn’t matter who. Killers are all evil in the eyes of some.”

He doesn’t think much on it when he answers your question. “In my eyes, many of us, like you and I, kill only for survival.” You and I, he says. “If an apocalypse were to happen, you’d kill a zombie for survival, wouldn’t you? You wouldn’t just it bite you and you certainly wouldn’t let them bite someone you care for. You’d kill them. For survival.”

He looks up, eyes as clear as day. “This business we’re in…we’re in the same boat.”

Killing to survive.

Killing because there is no other choice.

You don’t think you’ve ever met a man like him who seems so sentimental on life as if a part of him is satisfied with what he’s gone through but he also holds some regret, things he knows beyond you, years he’s lived more than you, and has gained wisdom from all the experience.

No one from this business has ever looked in the same lens as he does on life and you hate it.

You hate how it makes you feel.

So you drop the subject and leave the greenhouse, feeling that creepy sense of goosebumps on your body as you go.

When Kiwi wakes from his nap a little after, he comes to find you and you take him out on the walk you promised him before that meeting with Alexander.

The walk is nice, the scenery different from that of Seoul, and the breath of fresh air it allows you to intake with a piece of mind helps you remain calm and collected. Kiwi walks beside you without a leash, his little feet taking you down the paths as if he’s done this a thousand times before, with his little nose curious at every little thing around him.

He doesn’t ever stray away and you guess perhaps even the little one understands the dangers of what it means to be himself. In all honesty, you prefer cats over dogs but you have to admit this isn’t so bad — well, being in Norway helps, you guess.

In Seoul, the streets wouldn’t forgive you for taking a walk so carefreely like this.

But of course, Norway has its own dangers. You are taking care of a prominent figure of a powerful mafia after all.

For the most part, you had been following Kiwi and letting him guide you where his nose leads him, but when the two of you come towards a lake where lies a bridge at the center, the little puppy suddenly stops in his tracks, sniffs the air, before retracing back to you.

Your brows furrow slightly when he steps up to your feet, hiding in between them, and when you hear a small noise out of the ordinary and look up with a calm gaze at the sudden new presence that has now surround the both of you, an exasperated sigh leaves you.

So much for peace and quiet.

“Hey lady, what’re you doing with that dog?” A man asks in Norwegian.

“Dog sitting,” you reply in English.

They look amongst one another, confusion plastered on their faces probably because they’ve never seen you around before and when Kiwi grinds his teeth and growls lowly at them, you put a foot closer to him, trying to ease the little puppy.

“What happened to the old sitter? Dead?” He speaks up again, a brow raised your way. Perhaps he’s testing your ability to understand him so when he speaks in his language, you continue replying in English with perfect understanding of one another.

“Not dead. I’m just a temporary sitter.”

“And who are you? I’ve never seen you around Alexander before.”

“Just a common girl.” You take a small step back seeing the way he reaches for something in his pockets.

“You should know that the streets are dangerous.”

A little chuckle leaves you. “I wouldn’t be trusted with Alexander’s dog if I didn’t know that, now would I? Still, that’s a very bad idea,” you beckon at the gun he pulls out. “You wouldn’t want to do that.”

The corner of his lip curls upwards as he brings his gun forward to his face, playing with it just as his friends start to close in on you. “And why not? Are you afraid, little common girl?”

“Afraid?” You tilt your head back, laughing. “No, no, it’s not me who should be afraid.” He sends you a furrow in his brows at the way you look so relaxed and so you go on. “Alexander has already given me permission to eliminate anyone who poses a threat, which means I don’t have to go easy on you or spare your lives.”

“Really?” He scoffs, taunting you. “One against seven, you really think a little girl like you can take us?”

“Oh no, I’m not talking about me, though you’d be surprised I can totally take you.”

“What?”

“You should learn to heighten your senses, old man, maybe then you’d realize we aren’t the only ones here.” With that signal, someone from the group has their neck slashed from behind and another one gets shot right in the head.

One by one, they fall as you calmly pick up the scared little dog and stroke along his head to calm him down. He leans into your touch as the two of you ignore what’s happening around you, and once he finally seems alright again, you turn back to where Jungkook and Hoseok are standing, the enemies all dead on the ground.

You take one glance down at the dead bodies before checking the time on your watch. “I’ll inform Alexander and have his people clean this up,” you say as you reach for your phone. “Meanwhile, would one of you like to accompany me back to his mansion? Take on the role Taehyung took back at London?”

Jungkook comes along while Hoseok stays back and the walk back for the most part lies in silence.

Drama only occurs once you return to the mansion, hearing the sound of a familiar voice you haven’t heard in some time now. He shouts angrily you hear it through the halls and when you walk into the living room, you find Karl Larsen with three of his men behind him, reprimanding poor little Ester with Asher standing off to the side, looking bored and exasperated of his uncle.

No one stops him.

“Are you that incompetent? Just how useless are you that my father has to choose a stranger to take over your job? I told you to keep an eye on that mutt and you can’t even do that?”

Huh. Who would have thought Ester was actually Karl’s servant who had been assigned to look over Kiwi before you came in to take over temporarily? Though from the looks of it, when she cowers in fear under his demands, her head lowered, eyes tightly shut, shoulders trembling slightly, she doesn’t like this man so much.

Who does after all?

But she did look a lot more carefree living in this manor, looking after Kiwi under Alexander’s commands. Alexander isn’t known to bring just anyone in to work for him, which means Ester managed to gain his trust. He’s good at knowing who to trust, he wouldn’t just be easily swayed by his own blood’s opinions, so if given the chance, you believe that Ester wouldn’t hesitate to betray Karl.

She’s a sweet girl, you don’t doubt that.

Asher on the other hand, you aren’t too sure if a man like him deserves the benefit of the doubt.

He senses your presence though, unlike Karl and his men, and when he looks up to meet your eyes from the entryway of the living room, he stands up a little more straight, a small curl turning upwards upon the corner of his lips.

Maybe he’s just bored with petty family affairs and has no say in what his uncle wants or does. Family positions are important in the mafia after all.

“Where is she? The new girl?” Karl’s voice snaps back, his eyes bulging and you step towards them despite Jungkook’s caution, knowing the signs of that man. “Bring her to me now, you useless—”

His hand raises in the air and before it can come down at the young girl’s head, you grab his wrist mid-air with your left hand, stopping him successfully. “If you’re really that upset about the change, why don’t you bring it up to your father, spoiled old man?”

His brows furrow tightly when he looks your way initially, before his expression begins to cool and soften when he realizes just who it is that dared to stop him from punishing his subordinate. The strength of his arm weakens and he brings it back to his side, fixing the cuff of his suit, while a smirk plays on his lips as he keeps his gaze on you.

“Y/N,” the way he says your name makes you want to vomit and though for a second looking at that familiar, disgusting smirk on his face causes your mind to want to resurface the memories of all the things he’s done, you keep them back in, focusing on other things to not trigger it. “Look at you, you’ve grown so much since the last time I saw you. What are you doing here in Norway? Came to pay me a visit?”

He doesn’t know what happened to your father, you realize through those words, which is a bit surprising because of how close the two of them were, but then again, after the wipe of your father and his people, it kind of makes sense Karl never got word of your father’s death.

Both Asher and Jungkook are confused about the way Karl is acting so friendly and close to you, as well as the way he just naturally turns his attention from being angry at Ester to invite you to take a seat.

You follow him and settle Kiwi in your lap and see the way he glances at the puppy, a slight bitterness contouring his features before it disappears all too quickly.

He doesn’t like Kiwi, that much is clear, and with the way he addresses you, you can tell this man still thinks you of the naive little girl who would submit to just anyone without fighting back.

“Your words are a lot sharper than they used to be,” he notes, remembering the way you spoke to him. “Seems you’re finally growing into the woman that your father trained you to be.”

With a hand stroking the fur of Kiwi’s, you take a look at his three men. One of them is someone you recognize, the other two are completely new faces.

“Tell me then, how have you been since I left Seoul?”

One year, he came and left — not even one year but a summer, four months — and that was all it took for him to do all the things he’d done.

“I have news to give you, sir,” you say and he tsks at you.

“Come on now, call me what you used to call me. We were close, weren’t we? Don’t treat me like a stranger now, Y/N.”

He puts a hand on your shoulder and you bite your tongue back, resisting the urge to run from his touch. So with a tight grin, you give him the news he’s been needing to catch up on. “I am the Grim Reaper now..uncle.”

That amused expression on his face falls slightly, masked with surprise and confusion, and he takes one look at Jungkook who stands guard behind you, before returning his gaze back on you, flabbergasted.

“Your father’s dead?” He breathes, not believing it. “Why didn’t anyone tell me? How’d he die?”

Telling him the truth now would lead to an outburst from him and you can’t have Jungkook seeing that. Karl is a madman and if he knows of the truth here before strangers outside his and your people, he will definitely forget about the way your true relationship with your father is supposed to be kept a secret from the public.

“I apologize, uncle, preparations for his funeral and my succession took longer than expected.” Jungkook knows those words aren’t true but thankfully he knows to keep quiet.

“I could have helped,” Karl insists and you give him a pressed smile.

It’s strange the way he can’t comprehend just why the daughter of his friend whom he’s hurt many times did not want him involved in her family affairs, but you guess the minds of psychopaths are just like that. They can understand human emotions but they cannot feel them, and so they cannot emphasize with others.

“Do you not remember all the things you’ve done to me?” You want to ask him. “Do you not recall what you and father had done? Why would I want your help?” But you bite your tongue back just as Kiwi stirs from your touch, probably sensing a change in you.

The more you face the people who have done you wrong, the harder it is to keep the facade, you realize. Namjoon once said to stop before it all breaks you and you told him broken things cannot be broken even more but perhaps they can.

They can.

You’ve reached your breaking point before, not just once or twice, and yet it seems the world has just proven to you that glass can keep shattering and shattering until there is nothing left but dust.

Are you prepared to turn into dust?

You are. You’ve said it before.

“A broken glass can never mend itself to the way it used to be, the only thing it can do is break even more.”

You were prepared, your body was, but is your mind prepared? Will your mind ever be prepared?

No one is ever prepared to be broken, even if they think they are, and breaking again and again does not make you numb to the pain.

Kiwi whimpers on your lap, his head nuzzling into the palm of your hand when you stop stroking him. They say that dogs can smell human emotions and in turn, adopt them as their own, and hearing the distress whimpers, you try to return to Karl and give him a reply and yet nothing happens. You can’t even open your mouth to speak. You feel frozen on the spot.

Why now? Why now, whynow, whynow,whynowwhynow?

Footsteps are heard upon the silence of the room. “What’s making my Kiwi sound like that?” A low rumble demands an answer but you remain still, unable to move.

You feel paralyzed.

Kiwi looks up at his master’s voice for a second before going back to nuzzle against you and lend you his warmth, and while the people in the room stand up straight at his presence, Karl even going up to greet his father, you remain planted on the sofa.

Alexander ignores Karl to walk over to where his puppy is. He takes a glance your way, with Asher confused and Jungkook concerned and a little panicked because of the state you’re in, but rather than making this a big deal and reprimanding you for causing his puppy to sound the way he does, Alexander instead remains calm.

“Come here, Kiwi,” he calls, and though the pup hesitates at first, looking between you and his master, he eventually jumps up and into Alexander’s arms. “Karl, I’ll deal with you later. Right now I’m too busy to entertain guests.”

Though Karl looks like he wants to protest at first, he nods in reply, knowing he cannot talk back to his father. You were hoping he’d just leave it at that and go ahead with his men but for some reason, he just has to turn to you.

“My deepest condolences, Y/N. Let’s have tea to catch up next time, yeah?” Unable to grasp the situation, he reaches out to place a hand on your cheek, a smile on his face, before he arches his back straight again to bid Alexander goodbye.

In that moment, you stand, though it’s only because staying on that couch feels disgusting now having to sit still and do nothing when he reached out to touch you. You hate the touch, it burns you, but you remain silent when you stand a little behind Alexander, nodding Karl goodbye, and only once he leaves does the room feel a little easier to breathe in.

Just a little.

“Should I call Mingyu?” Jungkook asks when you return to the room Alexander prepared for you that first night you met him. He watches you with keen eyes and observance as you walk further into the room, away from the door, eyes still refusing to look anyone in the eyes, silent with a blank expression. “Or..should I leave the room?”

You don’t give him an answer but you’re thinking.

How far is it from here to the manor Namjoon prepared for you? A couple of minutes away by vehicle, which means it wouldn’t be that difficult for him to come here. But him coming here would mean a hassle because then you’d have to let the people here know that Mingyu’s one of yours and you don’t feel like interacting with anyone right now. A letter in your handwriting wouldn’t suffice either because they don’t know your handwriting.

You could honestly call Ester and describe Mingyu’s face to tell her he’s with you but that would mean interacting.

Jungkook could leave the room and yet the thought of him leaving gives a small dread in the pits of your stomach because you hate being alone and left in an unfamiliar place and right now he’s the only thing that’s familiar to you.

Familiar.

How funny that this familiar person left you to fend for yourself and gave you his cold shoulders when you needed him most.

And yet there’s no other choice.

So just like back in London when you familiarized yourself with Seokjin’s warmth and kindness for that split second, you turn around to face Jungkook.

He stands far from you, having not moved from the door since the two of you walked in, and a part of you hates that despite what he’s done to you, you know Jungkook is a man with natural kindness and would never do anything that would harm you on purpose. You see it in the way he keeps his distance, in the two questions he asked, how he doesn’t try to approach you, that unlike Karl who doesn’t know how to take a hint, he understands your fear of being touched by men even though you did allow Yoongi to hold you and poked Seokjin slightly on the shoulder.

He respects your boundaries. He always had, he always did.

So why did it have to end with him giving you the cold shoulders and pretending he hated you? Why did things have to turn out the way it did?

You’re so tired. Tired of everything.

“Come here,” you call for him, and you hate how even when you give him permission to come close, he still hesitates, concerned for the state of your mind.

When he approaches, his steps are slow, and once he’s inches away from you, you hold out the palm of your hand.

“I want you to help me with something,” you say, “you don’t have to do much, just..stay still and…and give me your hand.”

His brows are knitted, eyes staring down at your palm as if this isn’t a good idea. “I’m sorry,” he tells you, feeling conflicted. “Hoseok should have been here, we should have switched places. He would’ve been a better choice in—”

“I know Hoseok would have been the better choice but we can’t turn back time now can we?!” Your patience is starting to wear thin and when he flinches a little at the way you raise your voice, your own eyes widen at what you’d just done. Shocked at how easy it was to lose control, and when you begin to spiral out of fear for raising your voice at him, you put your hands in your hair, trembling.

“I’m sorry, please just…just help me, Jungkook. You have to replace what he did. I hate it, I hate his touch, and right now I’d rather feel your touch than his so please…please?” You look up at him, not caring that you’re pleading and looking desperate.

When he sees it, sees the way your eyes gloss over with a glaze of water, at your panicked tone and your begging for his help, he gives you his hand.

You take it and press his palm onto your cheek, over that burning feeling from where Karl touched you, and the peace that you yearned for doesn’t come right away. You struggle for a bit and your legs almost give in from the weakness but Jungkook’s right there to hold you up and bring you over to the bed so that you don’t have to rely on your legs.

He remains standing before you, watching as you rest your eyes while keeping his hand pressed to your skin.

It takes some time for the storm to wash away and for the calm to walk over but it comes, eventually, and when it does come, it isn’t in the way it is with Mingyu. Jungkook doesn’t give you the sort of calm that your second in command gives you, though you expected it because no one can replace Mingyu’s warmth.

The sort of calm Jungkook gives you follows with pain and grief over what had been lost all those years ago.

His warmth, his presence, his puppy-like self following you around, willing to do anything and everything for you. He’d always been such a quiet man who follows the rules well, who does everything with great effort, who is sometimes too naive and gets roped up in Jimin’s antics and gets scolded for things he didn’t do.

Always there to lend you his jacket when you shivered in the slightest way, always there to protect you from anyone that bothered you, noticing the smallest things, and though you relied on him for a lot of things, he relied on you in turn as well.

You understood him in ways the others couldn’t, the two of you in love like those two innocent little kids who were finding out what it meant to love someone for the first time. Soft and gentle, a bit awkward and clumsy.

“They didn’t have the drink that you like but I got you…” He walks back with a hand holding onto a glass of something for you to drink, but in the middle of his sentence, Jungkook’s expression falls. “...Something happened.”

Immediately, he’s shifting his head around to try and find who it was that approached you tonight but before he can get too far, you’re grabbing ahold of his arm and pulling his attention back on you.

“It…nothing happened,” you insist with a bit of panic on your expression, afraid of what Jungkook might do out in public like this, all the while trying to see if you can catch of glimpse of Namjoon anywhere on the floor. Thankfully he isn’t around, otherwise he’d be able to also tell something was wrong with one look your way.

There are days when hiding your emotions are easy and there are other days when it’s a little more difficult. Like on the days when people make you uncomfortable and you just can’t seem to hide it well. Those days are hard.

And Jungkook, who looks back at you, clearly doesn’t buy your little protest. “Y/N, I need you to just point out—”

“Please.” You squeeze his biceps, holding yourself close to him, pleading with your eyes as you look up at him, and Jungkook immediately recognizes just what those eyes are trying to tell him;

‘Don’t leave me alone.’

You’re frightened, he realizes, and after a small look around the room to check his surrounding, he brings you in close to him and keeps you by his side as he takes your hand and brings you around to an empty space where the two of you can be left alone together.

“Is there anything you need?” Is the first thing he asks you as he sits you down on a seat in the empty room, but you simply shake your head and squeeze his hand tight.

“Just you,” you say in a quiet voice, and Jungkook stays with you that night without ever leaving your side, all the while you simply hold onto the touch of his hand, the feel of it a comfort unlike any other.

His touch reminds you of those memories, of the past and the tears and the smiles, and though you hate the pain that it resurfaces, you’d rather revel in this pain than the pain of remembering the memories with Karl.

749 notes · View notes

yougetsu · 5 months

Text

Books & B-T

Books/stories that might have inspired B-T lyrics or albums:

Salome by Oscar Wilde Midsummer Night's Dream by Shakespeare Hamlet by Shakespeare Mona Lisa Overdrive by William Gibson Neuromancer by William Gibson Solaris by Stanisław Lem Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep by Philip K. Dick Alice in Wonderland by Lewis Lewis Carroll Season in Hell Arthur Rimbaud The Stranger by Albert Camus Fantomas by Marcel Allain & Pierre Souvestre Locus Solus by Raymond Roussel Les Enfants Terribles by Jean Cocteau The Fall of Icarus by Ovid Dada Manifesto by Hugo Ball The Surrealist Manifesto by André Breton The Rosicrucian manifestos The Story of Little Black Sambo by Helen Bannerman JoJo's Bizarre Adventure by Hirohiko Araki Hearts by Kumi Himeno The Soul of the Night by Chet Raymo Vita Mechanicalis by Inagaki Taruho Akira by Katsuhiro Otomo

Books mentioned by Acchan:

Villain by Shuichi Yoshida A Collection of Crime Stories by Shuichi Yoshida Ikari by Shuichi Yoshida Kokuhou by Shuichi Yoshida Kokoro by Natsume Soseki Audition by Ryu Murakami Coin Locker Babies by Ryu Murakami The World Five Minutes From Now by Ryu Murakami No Longer Human by Osamu Dazai The Setting Sun by Osamu Dazai Hakyoku by Tono Haruka Kairyou by Tono Haruka Neko Nari by Numata Mahokaru Shibireru by Numata Mahokaru Kugatsu ga Eien ni Tsuzukeba by Numata Mahokaru Yurigokoro by Numata Mahokaru On Decadence by Sakaguchi Ango Confessions of a Mask by Yukio Mishima Death Spirits by Yutaka Haniya Living Tips by Itsuki Hiroyuki Grotesque by Natsuo Kirino Shiki by Fuyumi Ono Bride of Deimos written by Etsuko Ikeda & illustrated by Yuho Ashibe The Flowers of Evil by Charles Baudelaire The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde Crime and Punishment by Fyodor Dostoevsky Notes from the Underground by Fyodor Dostoevsky Night on the Galactic Railroad by Kenji Miyazawa Gedou no uta by Daisuke Watanabe Tokkou no shima by Satō Shūhō

Other authors mentioned by Acchan:

Junji Ito Randi Taguchi Ryunosuke Akutagawa Yasunari Kawabata Natsuhiko Kyogoku Ayatsuji Yukito Sakuraba Kazuki Nobuyuki Fukumoto Hermann Hesse Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

Sources:

nopperabou.net Jrockarchive This is not greatest site Buck-Tick Zone Vk BT group Book list gathered by fans (twt) FT bulletins Ongaku to hito interviews Kurumi chan no Heya (FM COCOLO) B-T profiles through the years I've saved Personal scans & magazines

Feel free to add more books/novels/mangas <3

#i'll update this soon #cause i have more authors but i need to confirm the sources #buck-tick #sakurai atsushi #<3 #bt books

96 notes · View notes

lemonlover1110 · 1 year

Text

Baby Steps

Satoru Gojo

[Chapter 17] Insistence

← Previous Chapter - Story Masterlist - Next Chapter →

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x f!Reader

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

Happy to co-host Gojo NSFW Week 2023! Come join us on Twitter!

“Do you really have to take me to school?” Megumi complains while Satoru walks right beside him. For whatever reason, Satoru decided that he wanted to drop Megumi and Tsumiki off at school. Tsumiki doesn’t mind, but Megumi on the other hand…

“Just practicing with you two before I have my son.” Satoru responds, which only pisses Megumi off more because he knows that it’ll be a long time before the baby comes or at least it feels like forever. Tsumiki doesn’t really mind, at least she isn’t paying attention to them.

“You’re a big fat liar.” Megumi claims, making Satoru roll his eyes. The kid isn’t wrong, but he doesn’t have to say it like that. Satoru didn’t even bother walking Megumi and Tsumiki to school, even when he first found out the pregnancy news. Not even when he began to get excited about everything. But now Satoru has nothing to do.

The moment the sun comes out, Leiko is knocking on his door and she won’t leave even when Satoru has to work. He’s stuck with her as long as he’s in his apartment, and he hates it, so now he’s doing everything in his power to stay away from his own home.

“What’s going to be the baby’s name?” Tsumiki asks, and Satoru sighs. He has been thinking of baby names, but he doesn’t think you’ll even consider his suggestions. So he ends up shrugging. Satoru feels his phone ring, and he takes it out of his pocket. His eyes light up when he sees your phone display on the screen.

“Hi!” Satoru answers the phone a little too excitedly. He wonders why you’re calling, and then he thinks of the worst. You’re not calling him to check up on him, you’ve regressed from that point in your relationship. There must be something wrong with the baby. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah… I–” You begin and he hears you sigh from the other end of the phone. He comes to a complete stop, waiting for you to say something. Megumi and Tsumiki walk ahead of him, following their usual paths to school. “I hate to ask you of all people but Kaya is getting a little too much for me… I love her but I’ve asked her around five times to stop setting me up on dates but tonight she set me up for another. I tried to talk to Daisuke about it but even he can’t do anything.”

“I’ll be on my way. I’m dropping off Megumi and Tsumiki at school and then I’ll be right over.” Satoru says and he waits for your response before hanging up the phone. The kids walk way ahead of him, “You two are good, right?!”

Tsumiki puts up her arm, holding her thumb up.

“Hey…” You open the door and awkwardly greet Satoru. He returns your greeting with an awkward smile. He walks into the place and awkwardly looks around, trying to find Kaya. You notice and you tell him, “She’s in your old room. She stays there now.”

“Okay…” He slowly nods. “Is she sleeping? She is right? I don’t want to wake her up and then get myself killed.”

“She is… You can just wait for her to wake up though.” You tell him. “If you want, we’re setting up the nursery so you can help a bit.”

“You are?” Satoru asks and you hum in response. He expected it. He knows he has no right to join you in that aspect. Satoru knows that you’re still livid with him, and the only reason you two are still in contact is due to the fact that you’re having a baby so very soon. “I’ll love to help with anything.”

“It’s nothing too much... Kaya does need help setting up the crib and I’m no help, so maybe you can do that.” You suggest and Satoru nods his head. He walks to the nursery, and his hand feels sweaty as his hand reaches for the doorknob. He opens the door and sees what you have so far.

A light blue nursery, with barely any furniture. The walls have paintings of clouds, and when he looks up at the ceiling, there’s fake stars around. There’s a purple moon hanging off the ceiling, where he assumes the crib will be. Satoru just looks around the room for a minute before he sees the crib’s box, and the parts that are scattered outside the box.

“I hope it’s not too much.” You tell him as he takes a seat on the ground to read the instructions for putting everything together. You watch him for a minute before you decide to leave the bedroom, leaving him to build the crib on his own. You feel as if waiting and watching him will just make things awkward.

You go to your bedroom and lay down on your bed, sighing. You have nothing to do but to relax and wait for Kaya to wake up. Your back is starting to ache, and you’re getting impatient for the baby to come, but it’s truly taking forever. You still have so many weeks to go.

You shut your eyes for a minute, and what wakes you again is Kaya’s irritated voice. She finds Satoru building furniture for the nursery, and she’s certainly not happy. You groan, having to stand up and walk to the nursery. Kaya notices you and points at Satoru who is building the changing table.

“This little shit just snuck in! Does he have an extra key?” She asks you and you pinch the bridge of your nose. You’re not in the mood for all of this. “I asked him to come because I’m sorry Kaya– You’ve been a little bit too much. I can’t go on dates, I’m six months pregnant. I have to worry about becoming a mom, not finding a person to date.” You share with her, and it feels like the hundredth time, but she still doesn’t listen. She’s so focused on getting back at Satoru that she doesn’t take your feelings into consideration. She takes your matters too personally.

“Oh, c’mon! He’s so nice. You can’t just–”

“Stop setting me up on dates! I’m not going.” You cut her off. “I’m tired. I’m so tired, Kaya.”

“Think about it.” She responds, making you roll your eyes.

“I’m going for a walk. Don’t kill each other.” You end up saying. You need to take a breath of fresh air before dealing with her. Satoru looks at Kaya for a moment before deciding to follow behind you.

“I’ll join you!” Satoru yells, following you to the door. Satoru knows that he won’t be safe with Kaya, even when he’s the strongest. She’ll find a way to kill him, even when it’s nearly impossible.

When you walk out the door, so does he. You decide to not acknowledge him as he walks behind you. It’d be nice to have a conversation with him, but at the same time you’re not in the best mood to have a conversation with Satoru of all people. He’s the reason why Kaya is trying to force you out on a date.

“Why don’t you want to go out on a date?” Satoru asks, walking up to you so he can actually talk to you. He knows that maybe he shouldn’t invade your space and give you time to adjust, but he just wants to talk to you. He wants to know how you’re feeling.

“Why should I?” You reply, looking at him. He shrugs in response, and you end up sighing. Should you talk to Satoru of all people? Maybe he’s the person that you should confide in since he’s the father of your child– On the other hand, he’s the reason all of this is happening. “I mean, let’s face it, do I really have time to start a relationship?”

“You still have a couple of months. You’re allowed to have some fun before the baby comes.” He tells you, although he doesn’t like encouraging you to date. But it’d be hypocritical of him to tell you otherwise. “I mean going on one date isn’t going to hurt you. As much as I’d hate siding with Kaya.”

“I’m just tired, Satoru.” You respond. “Why would you care anyway?”

“I– You’re just not going to have the chance to date around when we have our baby. Just take the opportunity now–” He begins when his phone rings. He pulls it out of his pocket and he furrows his eyebrows seeing the name that’s displayed on the screen. You see it too, and you understand why he wants you to go on a date so badly. He feels bad because of what he’s doing to you, and that’s fine.

He won’t care if you do or you don’t go on a date, all he’ll feel is slightly guilty. He declines the call and you say, “I’ll go on a date. To help you out.”

“Why– I mean that’s great, but why do you want to help me out? How is that helping me?” Satoru asks, his curiosity awakened.

“You feel guilty, don’t you? But it’s fine… Now that I think about it, I didn’t like you as much as I thought I did.” You lie. He comes to a complete stop– He doesn’t know why. Maybe because he likes you a lot. Too much for his comfort. You don’t stop for him, and he doesn’t mind, after all, he tagged along without your permission.

“Then why were you so hurt?” He raises his voice while he catches up to you. You try your best to think of something on the spot.

“Maybe because I wanted my baby to be raised with his parents together. I realized that it wasn’t going to happen… Made me think that it was my first failure as a mother.” You answer. Satoru bites down on his lip while he continues walking by your side. He isn’t sure what to say to that, and he tries his best to respond. “I’ll just tell Kaya that I’m going on that date with Getou.”

“Huh?” He isn’t sure if he heard the name right or if his mind is playing tricks on him. But you don’t repeat yourself. You begin to walk back to the apartment, and Satoru freezes on the spot. He furrows his eyebrows as he tries to think everything through. He yells, “What was his name again?!”

“Don’t worry about it, Satoru!”

🏷 @witchofoe @cactustattoo @kageyamaslittleroyal20 @mykyoon @sunjayist @fonkymonkeyfriday @lilith412426 @luvs-wrld @witchymermaid12 @fi106 @distractionforyourthoughts @dearsunaa @tamak00 @watyousayin @leiriswhore @q-the-rockaholic @shuxjodie @syynnaaah @kleeboomed @shrekmwa @bakugobiddies @blueeskies17 @arminsgfloll @obeythemasters @crispmarshmallow @levismainbabe

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #anime #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojou satoru x you #jjk gojo #gojo x reader #gojou satoru x reader #satoru gojo #jujutsu gojo #gojo fanfic #gojo x y/n #gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen gojo #gojo saturo

544 notes · View notes

kuroi-yume · 4 months

Text

In the shadowy corners of a city swallowed by darkness, walks Daisuke "Kuro" Ryuzaki, a figure shaped by his troubled past and the world of illegal street racing. He moves like a ghost, his steps silent yet purposeful, as he navigates the forgotten alleyways and dimly lit streets where whispers of the night intertwine with the rhythmic pulse of urban life. Amidst the neon glow of Tokyo's bustling thoroughfares, his name reverberates, a haunting echo that speaks of both exhilarating speed and the chilling embrace of criminality. From the earliest days of his youth, Daisuke found solace and excitement in the visceral thrum of engines and the adrenaline-fueled rush of underground races. His innate talent as a mechanic and his unyielding passion for danger quickly elevated him to legendary status among Tokyo's nocturnal denizens. However, it was within the clandestine world of the Yakuza where his allegiance truly lay bare. By day, Daisuke presents himself as a humble mechanic, blending seamlessly into the fabric of everyday life. But as the sun sets and darkness descends upon the city, he sheds his mundane facade to embrace his alter ego, "Kuro" – the shadowy enforcer of the Yakuza. His existence becomes a symphony of chaos, where the lines between law and lawlessness blur, and the scent of burning rubber mingles with the metallic tang of blood. In a city teetering on the edge of anarchy, Daisuke stands as a towering figure of malevolence, a puppet master pulling the strings of fate from the depths of the criminal underworld. His destiny is intricately entwined with the clandestine machinations of the Yakuza, his very essence saturated in the darkness of their nefarious deeds.

⌗kuroi-yume ⸻ Daisuke "Kuro" Ryuzaki - a man who willingly embraces the shadows, finding both strength and purpose in their unforgiving embrace, as he carves out his path through the labyrinth of Tokyo's underworld.

in love with my little flower (私の小さな花) @kndhearted

mdni – selective – varying in activity – triggering content

#userfakevz #kuroi-yume #eng/ger #r: taken

50 notes · View notes

hexpea · 5 months

Text

Ch. 1 - Black Dahlia Black Dahlia flowers often represent betrayal or sadness. AN: I wrote this after getting the character guide. I learned that the Zenin estate is in Kyoto after all, along with the Kamo estate. Oops. We're going with it anyway!

The glittering lights of the world's largest city unfolded in front of you as the sleek, black sedan that carried you sped down the Shuto Expressway. It had been a five and a half hour drive that you spent entirely silent in the backseat as your youngest uncle, Daisuke, drove you toward the outskirts of Tokyo toward the imposing Zenin estate. The skyscrapers sparkled as you drove on the highway, the early setting sun casting a glow on their windows as tiny February snowflakes fell to the city streets below.

You shifted in your seat, the knot of your obi restraining you tighter than your own seat belt. You hooked your thumb under the tight fabric to take a deep breath and ease some of your pain. You hated having to dress so formal -- ironic considering the conservative family you came from who prided themselves on lineage and tradition. You were the Kamo clan's jewel, the youngest daughter of the clan head. But as a woman, youngest aside, you had 'no right' to become the heir apparent; that role instead passed down to your 'bastard' half-brother, Noritoshi, though you'd never personally call him that. He'd inherited the prized cursed technique of your family, and you convinced yourself that your father's reasoning was right. So you ignored it and adored your youngest brother, the mama's boy. Besides, you had a much more important task at hand.

Daisuke looked in the rear-view mirror at you, his grip tightening on the steering wheel as he tried to analyze your facial expression while you busied yourself with studying the sparkling skyline. As your youngest uncle, who often carted you around as your attendant, you were close to him -- and those 'complications' from your 'task,' he knew all about. In fact, you saw Daisuke as more of a father, or brotherly, figure than your own father.

After such a long silence, the Zenin estate only a few minutes away as you drove away from the city, Daisuke finally broke it. "You alright, Y/N? It's been a long journey from Kyoto," his voice held deep concern. The windshield wipers of the car made a loud squeak as they dragged themselves across the too-dry glass, snow and salt still dirtying it as Daisuke sighed irritably and discharged the wiper fluid using the shifter near the steering wheel.

You turned your head slightly, meeting Daisuke's gaze in the mirror with cool composure. Swallow it down. That's what you knew best. "I'm fine, Uncle. Just contemplating the path ahead."

Daisuke nodded, acknowledging the weight of the situation. "Today, you'll be betrothed to another Zenin. You've a crucial role in...ensuring the continued influence of our clan," his tone hinted at your true task at hand, more than a measly arranged marriage. "And you know your father is...eager...to see his direction carried out promptly this time."

Your expression remained unchanged as you turned your attention back to the view outside, your eyes betrayed only a glimmer of detached determination. "I understand, Uncle. I'll play my part, and I won't fuck up...again," your voice was quiet as you tried to end the conversation quickly with your harsh, irritated tone.

"You know your role in this alliance is crucial, Y/N. The clan has invested much into this partnership with the Zenin and your abilities are our greatest asset," Daisuke focused back on the road, his voice laced with double meaning that you could easily decipher. His breathing briefly hitched as he hit a patch of black ice as the expressway you were once on turned into winding country roads.

A subtle smirk played on your lips, you felt your blood pressure starting to rise with irritation. "I'm well aware, Uncle. The Kamo clan's rise to power is at stake and I have no intention on letting us down."

Daisuke sighed, his gaze remaining fixed on the road ahead. "You've done well in the past, especially with...your late husband. But this time, try not to take seven years to finish the job. Our arrangement relies on their vulnerability and we've postponed the progression long enough."

Your eyes glinted with a cold determination as you saw the Zenin estate steadily coming into view, one of the last remaining shinden-zukuri style estates from the Heian era -- besides your own back in Kyoto. "Rest assured, Daisuke. I know what needs to be done. I've done it quite a few times before," you were throwing his first name around as if it were a threat. As close as you were, you were pestered he kept bringing up your circumstances as if you didn't know what you were doing.

Daisuke pulled the car onto the brick driveway that curved toward the front gates to the Zenin estate. You waited in the back as he got out and opened the door for you, offering his hand to assist your movements. You did your best to gracefully exit the vehicle despite the tight skirt of your kimono, the slowly setting afternoon sun providing a warm backdrop to the otherwise solemn occasion for the reason of your arrival. You shivered as you felt the cold air at your wrists and ankles, feeling lucky for wearing a thick kimono for once.

He led you toward the imposing front gates, the two of you being greeted by a few attendants who then led you toward the main building where your father-in-law Zenin Naobito, the twenty-fifth head to the Zenin clan, awaited you.

"Make them believe you're mourning, Y/N," Daisuke whispered in your ear, slightly leaning down as two female attendants quietly led the way toward the center building. "But remember your duties."

With a nod, accompanied by your irritated expression, you entered the estate to find Naobito lounging informally on a zabuton. I don't need to pretend, you thought to yourself, I am in mourning.

Naobito was sucking down sake from an o-choko as if it were nothing before pouring himself another from a gourd. He leaned against the armrest to his zabuton, one leg curled inward with the other propped up, his elbow resting on his knee.

The attendants who had led you there silently closed the shoji doors behind you as you stepped toward Naobito, keeping a step behind your uncle. Considering you'd been dealing with the Zenin clan since you were a child, you knew all about their cold and conniving ways, particularly that of the misogynistic nature. You knew to keep your mouth shut and your head low, at least in front of a man like Naobito.

The main room of the estate was large, built of the sturdiest wood. The ceiling was held up with large wooden pillars throughout the room made of the same wood that planked the floors. You stood with your uncle on the large, raised platform in just your socks against the tatami mats. Naobito was sitting at the front of the room alone with attendants stationed at each of the doors in the room.

Daisuke took the first move, bowing respectfully to adhere to the formalities of clan politics. "Zenin-sama, I bring you Kamo Y/N. She comes to offer her condolences on the passing of your son and her late husband, Zenin Naohiro."

Naobito looked up from his lounging position, taking a prolonged sip from his next cup of sake, staring at the two of you with an air of indifference. His sharp eyes assessed you, and for a moment, you thought you saw a flicker of recognition that made your heart flutter nervously. However, it was quickly replaced by the cold mask that almost always defined him.

"Daisuke," Naobito greeted casually, setting his sake cup aside. "It's been some time. I trust the journey here was uneventful?"

"Indeed, it was. We're grateful for your hospitality over the next few days," he responded professionally, continuing to adhere to formalities despite Naobito's lack of interest.

Naobito nodded dismissively, his attention turning to you. His cold stare was almost enough to send a shiver down your spine. "Y/N, a pleasure to see you as well," he remarked with a slight smirk, not bothering to rise from his seated position.

You kept your eyes low, dipping into a respectful bow of your own. You did your best to maintain a somber expression as Daisuke introduced you more formally. "Zenin-sama, allow me to present once again, Kamo Y/N, youngest daughter of the twenty-fourth head to the Kamo clan."

Naobito studied you for a moment, his gaze piercing through the layers of your kimono and the stoicism you presented. "Pity about the circumstances that bring you here...again," he remarked, a cruel glint in his eyes.

You inclined your head in acknowledgement, maintaining the facade of grief as it came naturally. "Thank you, Zenin-sama. I am honored to be here despite the sorrow that accompanies my arrival."

Naobito waved his hand dismissively, clearly uninterested in niceties. "Let's get on with it then. Daisuke, our arrangement?"

Daisuke cleared his throat, shifting into his formal tone once more. "As agreed, Y/N will be betrothed to one of your sons, or another appropriate clan member should a son not be available, securing the alliance between our clans. The Kamo clan seeks the strength and protection of the Zenin, and in return, we offer our influence and support with regard to matters involving those higher in rank."

Naobito's indifferent demeanor remained unchanged as he listened to your uncle's formalities. After a moment, he sighed audibly, a hint of annoyance tainting his expression.

"Unfortunately, all of my other sons are already married...save for one," Naobito stated coldly. "Naoya is my youngest, and he remains unmarried. I suppose he'll have to suffice for this...pathetic alliance. Though, I expect his resistance. The boy's not one known for his behavior."

Daisuke nodded respectfully, acknowledging the limitations of the situation. "We appreciate the flexibility, Zenin-sama. I'm sure Naoya will be a worthy match for Y/N."

Naobito leaned back after rolling his eyes, taking another sip of sake as he considered the arrangement. He turned to one of the attendants quietly standing against the wall. "Go and fetch Naoya. Inform him of the situation and bring him here promptly."

The attendant nodded, a flicker of fear evident in her eyes, but they quickly composed themselves and exited the room in haste. Naoya, known for his unpredictable and ruthless nature, was a figure to be feared even within the Zenin clan.

The silence was deafening as you, Daisuke, and Naobito stared at one another while waiting for the attendant to return. After a short few moments, the attendant returned with a hesitant bow, her eyes showcasing an obvious mix of fear and trepidation. She spoke in a hushed tone, addressing Naobito with utmost respect. "I apologize, Zenin-sama, but Naoya refuses to come. He is still resting, as he returned late last night from a...festivity."

Naobito's face tightened with irritation, his fingers drumming impatiently on the tatami mat next to him. "Still sleeping? At this late hour? Unacceptable." He turned to the attendant with a stern expression. "Gather more attendants. If he refuses, drag him in if you have to. I won't have my son shirking his responsibilities for his...indulgences."

You gave Daisuke a certain look that blatantly showed you were trying to hold back laughter despite yourself. You found Naobito's lack of control over his children amusing. Naohiro had been the same, disobedient to his father, though he was much more gentle with you. Naoya, you knew, was going to be a problem. Daisuke lightly nudged you to behave as he held his polite expression.

The attendant, visibly more nervous now, nodded and quickly exited the room. Naobito sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, his annoyance evident. "That boy has no sense of responsibility. Always chasing after fleeting pleasures."

The fusuma doors slid open again, revealing a group of female attendants. They entered with conflicted expressions of determination as they wrangled a disheveled Naoya who was fighting against their grasp, still half-asleep, as he was forcibly dragged into the room in a white t-shirt, boxers, and an unfastened yukata that hung off of one of his shoulders. His bleached hair accentuated with black tips darted in a few different directions as he ripped his arms out of the attendants' grasp with a furious look on his otherwise sleepy expression.

Naoya adjusted his disheveled clothes as he stood up a bit straighter, not caring to fix his tousled hair. Naobito's eyes narrowed with displeasure as he observed his son's state. "Naoya, this is an important matter. Show some respect."

Naoya glared at his father as he stood with his feet slightly apart for balance, mind still dizzy from a night of his usual revelry. His head snapped in your direction to which his frustrated expression fell into a deep smirk. "Well, well, if it isn't the Kamo princess," Naoya sneered, his arrogant grin widening as he appraised you with a dismissive glance. "Coming to play the grieving widow, are we?"

You kept a straight face as you stared at Naoya, straightening up your shoulders to look at him head-on. You carried no fear for the immature boy standing in front of you. Daisuke, too, gave Naoya a disapproving look but refrained from saying anything, knowing the delicate nature of the situation.

Naobito, giving yet another audible sigh in an attempt to bring attention back to the task at hand, cut to the chase. "Naoya, Y/N is to be your betrothed so that our alliance with the Kamo clan can remain secure."

Naoya's eyes widened in outrage as he processed the information. "You've got to be kidding me, old man! I'm not interested in some arranged marriage nonsense," he spat, his voice dripping with disdain. He clenched his fists at his sides as he glared at his father. It was nearly impossible to take him seriously considering his disheveled appearance.

Naobito's patience wore thin as he shot Naoya a stern look. "Watch your tongue, boy. This alliance, as pathetic as it seems, is crucial to the Zenin clan, and you will do as your duty demands."

Naoya rolled his eyes dramatically, an exaggerated display of defiance. "Duty? I have no duty to anyone but myself. I won't be shackled to some woman and dragged off to Kyoto like a common servant. Like my pathetic brother."

You remained composed, watching the exchange with an impassive expression. Daisuke, though disapproving of Naoya's behavior and not desiring to subject his niece to such torture, kept a respectful distance, knowing better than to intervene in the Zenin family affairs.

Naobito's tone turned even colder as he asserted his authority. "You will do as I say, Naoya. This is not up for negotiation. The alliance with the Kamo clan must be maintained and you will fulfill your responsibilities as the next clan head. Or do I need to revoke that title from you and give it to one of your older brothers?"

Naoya's bratty attitude persisted and he scoffed at his father's words. "Fine, I'll play your little game, but I'm not leaving Tokyo. If she's supposed to be my bride, the bitch can come live in my domain. I won't be caught dead in that dull city of Kyoto, not when I need to manage the Hei!"

Naobito's patience had run out, and he slammed his hand on the armrest of the zabuton, his voice cutting through the room like a blade. "Enough, Naoya! This is not a negotiation! You will follow through with this arrangement, and she will live in Kyoto with her family. The Hei may be significant, but it does not give you the right to defy our clan's decisions."

Naoya scowled, clearly displeased with the outcome. "This is ridiculous. If I have to marry her, she's staying in Tokyo. I won't be confined to that backward city!"

You took a deep breath, feeling fed up with the back and forth between petty father and son. "If I may," you began, breaking the silence with a steady voice despite the tension in the room. Naoya and Naobito's furious gazes darted toward you, equal in baffled disgust at your sudden dare to speak. "I understand his concerns about leaving Tokyo considering his responsibilities with the Hei. If it pleases the Zenin family, I am willing to remain in Tokyo as long as I am able to be provided a part of the garden to tend to my plants and a suitable place to store my...reptiles."

Daisuke's eyes widened in shock at your unexpected proposal. He knew all too well the risks involved in meddling with the affairs of the Zenin clan, especially with someone as unpredictable as Naoya.

Quietly, Daisuke leaned in closer to you, his voice barely above a whisper. "Y/N, are you sure about this? Your safety at the Zenin estate cannot be guaranteed."

You met Daisuke's concerned gaze with a silent nod, your eyes reflecting quiet determination. You were well aware of the dangers, but you were confident in your ability to navigate the treacherous waters of the Zenin clan. Turning your attention back to Naoya and Naobito, you awaited their response, your posture unwavering despite the intensity of the situation.

Naoya's arrogant grin faltered for a moment as he considered your proposal, his brow furrowing in thought. "Hmph, you're quite bold for a Kamo," he remarked, a hint of begrudging respect underlying his words. "Very well, if you're willing to tend to your plants and snakes like some common gardener, then so be it."

Naobito, though visibly displeased with the compromise, reluctantly acquiesced. "Fine, if that's what it takes to ensure the success of this alliance then so be it. But make no mistake, Kamo Y/N, any misstep on your part under this roof will not be tolerated."

You gave a small nod of acknowledgement. Inside, you felt a surge of relief and victory knowing you had secured a concession from the formidable Zenin patriarch and his bratty son.

Naobito's stern gaze shifted from you to Naoya, a clear signal that the matter was settled. "Naoya, get dressed. You will show Y/N around the estate while I finalize the details of your betrothal with Daisuke."

Naoya scowled at his father, clearly displeased with the order. "Why am I the one tasked with babysitting the princess around this dull place?"

Naobito looked toward the ceiling and clenched his jaw as if he were praying to some kind of deity. After a moment, he turned back to look at his son. "Consider it a punishment for your insolence. Now, obey your duty and show her the estate. Perhaps you'll learn something about responsibility."

Naoya huffed in annoyance but didn't dare further protest in front of his father. He shot a disdainful glance at you. "Fine, let's get this over with. Follow me, Kamo," he sneered, emphasizing your family name with a mocking tone.

You maintained your composure, but smirked as you walked behind him. "Lead the way, Zenin-sama. I'm sure it won't be as dull as you claim."

As Naoya grumbled and stormed out of the room, you continued following him, Daisuke's watchful gaze lingered on you with concern. The attendants opened the shoji doors and you and Naoya stepped out and began walking toward his room, his bare feet hardly making a sound against the spaced wooden planks of the outdoor pathway. As you followed behind, you saw his angry breath following him in the cold air of late afternoon.

Naoya walked ahead of you with an air of arrogance, fists still clenched as his black yukata flowed in the breeze of his quick pace. "I hope you're not expecting some kind of grand tour, Kamo. This place isn't as exciting as you think."

You chuckled softly, not letting his arrogance faze you. "Then I suppose I'll need to liven things up around here with my presence."

He shot you a skeptical glance as you stopped in front of his room's door, his eyes narrowed at you as he slid the door open. "Don't mistake this for willingness. I'm only doing this because the old man ordered it. I couldn't care less about a whore like you or this alliance nonsense."

As Naoya entered his room, you remained outside, leaning casually against the sliding door. You slid your hands into your sleeves for warmth as you waited. The opened door allowed you to catch glimpses of the interior where Naoya, in his disheveled state, attempted to compose himself.

The room was dimly lit, and the faint scent of strong alcohol lingered in the air. You watched with mild amusement as Naoya stumbled to dress, his bare feet unsteady on the wooden floors, a clear sign that he was still grappling with the aftermath of the previous night's festivities. His yukata hung loosely from one shoulder, revealing a toned and defined physique beneath the fabric. Despite the obvious signs of his hangover, there was an undeniable attractiveness to Naoya's disarray. His bleached, black-tipped hair, tousled from sleep and night's revelry, framed his face in a way that accentuated the sharpness of his muscular chest and arms.

Naoya fumbled with the buttons of his collared shirt, a slight grimace on his face as he tilted his chin upward, wincing from the headache that undoubtedly plagued him. With his shirt buttoned, he grabbed his dark blue hakamashita from his bed where he tossed it. As you observed his attempts to dress himself, you couldn't help but be intrigued by the contradictions within Naoya -- the audacious, carefree exterior that masked the complexities beneath. It was evident that, despite his arrogant demeanor, he was not immune to the consequences of his indulgences. He still had some growing room left.

Naoya lastly put on his white hakama pants, tying them at his waist with a bit of frustration. He shot a glance in your direction, a mix of annoyance and curiosity in his eyes. "Are you just going to stand there, Kamo, or do you plan on entering? You're letting all the warm air out," he motioned irritably to the space heater on the floor.

Your lips curled into a sly smile as you pushed off the door, entering his room with a deliberate confidence and closing the shoji door behind you. "I thought I'd give you a moment to compose yourself, Zenin. Wouldn't want to interrupt your morning routine," you chuckled lowly and crossed your arms. "Excuse me...I meant afternoon routine."

He scoffed, the arrogant smirk returning to his face. "Morning routine? More like recovering from a night well spent. But enough about that. What do you truly want? I'm not here to entertain you."

Your eyes scanned the simple yet elegant decor of his room. "Entertainment is subjective, Zenin. I'm simply here to fulfill my duties as your betrothed, as per our esteemed fathers' arrangement."

Naoya rolled his eyes, the remnants of irritation evident in his expression. "Right, the illustrious betrothal. A joyous occasion, I'm sure. Now, let's get this stupid tour over with."

Dates: February 14, 2018 - Naohiro, Naoya's brother and Y/N's ex-husband, is killed. February 18, 2018 - Y/N is sent to the Zenin estate to be married off to an eligible Zenin bachelor. AN: Reminder, this is your father and half-brother. c: (From Vol. 22)

#naoya zenin #zenin naoya #naoya zenin x reader #zenin naoya x reader #naoya zenin x y/n #zenin naoya x y/n #naoya zenin x you #zenin naoya x you #jjk #jujutsu kaisen

39 notes · View notes