#sharp's fanart reblog | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mysteria157 · 1 month

Text

Chapter One

Pairing: Black Fem!Reader x Hitman Toji Fushiguro

CW: Profanity, Hints of Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, Comfort

Word Count: Don't worry about it.

Summary:

“I’m only going to say this one more time, Toji. I don’t do situationships. I don’t do friends with benefits or the occasional hookup. You want more? I want you to try. Earn me.”

His hands are so bloody, that if you ever knew the source, you would'nt want someone like him to try. He shouldn't be here, taking up so much of your time, asking for more. But he's selfish.

-or; Toji, a notorious hitman, moves to America for more money and a better life for his son. He didnt expect to sleep with you, let alone want more. When his dangerous life catches up to him, he takes on one final lucrative hit, but realizes this target has unseen connections hitting closer to home. Now he must navigate a perilous job while desperately keeping his criminal double life hidden from you.

Authors Notes: Hello! I hope you all enjoy this first chapter. As stated in the masterlist, this fic is a continuation from Maneater, so reading that will definitely help set the tone for this fic. I plan to dig deep with this story and really find my voice writing a different genre.

As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated! Enjoy and thank you for your support!

Dividers: @royallaesthetics @eloquentmoon | Header: created by myself (fanart from Pinterest)

**Do not plagiarize any of my works or translate without my permission!**

…women like you drown oceans -Rupi Kaur

*** You ***

Pop!

The sharp sound of gum expanding and then exploding causes you to flinch, your eyeliner pen frozen just above your lid. Through the mirror’s reflection, you shoot a glare at the open closet door, where your cousin rummages through your clothes.

Pop!

She’s in her own little world. If this were any other circumstance, she would have been scolded for her habit of popping gum—a top offender on the list of annoying behaviors ingrained in both of you since childhood. You detest the sound, and if you were closer, you would have punched her in the stomach by now.

You and your cousin typically get along well, but she enjoys testing your limits to coax you out of your shell. The only way to shut her up is by letting her tire herself out during her talkative rampages or swinging at her when you’ve had enough.

Every day with her is a gamble of which will come first.

Your eyeliner is still hovering by your upper lid, suspended in place as you watch another sundress get haphazardly thrown against the closet wall instead of being put back on a hanger where it fucking belongs.

You can’t bother with trying to get violent with her, you’re way too preoccupied with other thoughts. More incessant thoughts like how to play it cool on a date. It’s not that hard, right? Be yourself, get a gauge of the man trying to impress you, entertain a few hours of your day and then back home to relax.

Easy.

If it were anyone else but Toji, then it would be easy.

You had buried yourself in double shifts and extended hours in the lab just to distract yourself from today. Anything to keep you busy and keep your mind off the fact that someone you are sort of interested in…wants to see you. And he reminds you every day when you look down at your phone.

Despite his admission of being a lazy texter, Toji is surprisingly consistent. But the messages take on a blunt form wrapped around a small pearl of care.

Toji: Eat breakfast. What good are you in a hospital if you pass out?

Toji: Stop taking on more shifts, its stupid. Go home and rest.

Toji: You better not be tired this weekend.

No matter how hard you try to force your face to stay immobile, each text makes your lips twitch into a small smile. He masks his words in harsh deliveries, but the intention is obvious. The satisfying jolt that shoots up your spine when your phone buzzes with a notification from him should be embarrassing. It should be.

But you love it.

It’s absurd, really. Only two weeks have passed since you met him, hardly enough time to form any meaningful connection. Yet, that night at your uncle’s was unexpectedly delightful. Toji was, against your better judgment, charming and attentive, almost to the point of clinginess. And, undeniably, he’s attractive. And a fucking fantastic lay.

So, despite your instinct to ignore a man and the way they flaunt their feathers for your attention, you want Toji to bring that same energy as last time.

You lean your elbows back into the shiny wood of your vanity, focusing your attention on your eye as you lower the eyeliner to your skin.

Pop!

The sound makes you jump, disrupting your focus and smearing the eyeliner across your temple.

“Rene!” you bark, slamming your eyeliner down on the vanity top with a force that makes your hand sting, and you yank a drawer open in search of a makeup wipe. “Stop popping your gum before I come over there and beat the shit out of you.” As you wipe off the smudged makeup, you catch the reflection of your cousin emerging from your closet.

She embodies a beauty that’s almost blinding, matched only by her lively personality. So naturally, heads turn when she enters a room, her chocolate skin seemingly radiant wherever she goes. With her thick, kinky hair always in a protective style and her unshakeable confidence in her intelligence and appearance, Rene caught Shiu’s attention immediately, and he’s been captivated ever since.

She is one of very few in your family who truly gets you, who sees the world with clarity and understands its nuances and how to navigate through it without compromising her ideals. Since childhood, you’ve stuck to each other like glue. She understands you and your guarded demeanor, you understand her and her loud personality. She’s one of your best friends.

But at this moment, as she stands before you in booty shorts and a tank top that accentuates her curves, her twist out cascading from a pineapple updo, and an outfit draped over one arm, she is pissing you off as she pops her gum againwith a cheeky expression.

“I like your makeup.” A sly grin stretches on her face, enhancing her soft features. You ignore her, feeling your defenses rise as she effortlessly peels back your layers. The liquid eyeliner glides against the smooth brown of your skin, forming a subtle cat-eye as you pretend not to notice her approaching you from behind.

She gracefully settles onto your vanity top, ignoring your lipstick casing that teeters over and rolls across the shiny surface. You shoot her another glare before moving to your other eye. “You should put on some mascara too. When you give him head later today, I’m sure he’ll love to see it run down your cheeks and—”

You swing at her not even a second later, landing a solid smack on the side of her thigh. “UM Ow?!”

“Um?? Shut the fuck up,” you growl, sneering at her with a leveling scowl that you hope cuts through her.

It doesn’t.

Rene snorts, shrugging off the vanity and moving to your bed to change her clothes. As she pulls your dark jeans over her thick thighs, you can’t help but wonder if you should dress more…sexy? Your jean shorts reveal enough skin, and the jersey fits snugly around your torso. You’re no stranger to dressing to the nines and making heads turn just like her, but you value practicality more than appeal. It’s a football game, after all, and you love football. Why bother looking overly sexy when you’ll be screaming and stuffing hotdogs and pretzels in your mouth?

Despite the logic, a hand of insecurity tightens around your throat.

Rene, like the annoyingly clairvoyant bitch she is, tastes the shift in the air and rolls her eyes at you through the mirror’s reflection. “You look fucking amazing. Toji asked you out—frequently, I might add.”

The memories of his persistence flash through your mind in a rush. Heated touches in the backseat of your truck, sweaty skin sliding against each other, and your mouth dripping with moans of satisfaction were constantly interrupted by his repeated question.

“Let me take you out.”

As if he couldn’t get enough. As if he wanted more. As if he wouldn’t leave your uncle’s house that night until you flat-out told him to leave you alone.

You haven’t entertained a man since your cheating ex, so your defenses remain high and guarded, fortified with brick and mortar, armed to fend off anyone who comes too close.

But in such a short time, Toji managed to advance further than others with hard skin resilient to your attacks, and a constant insistence to be by your side. He’s spoken to you in ways that would have landed others in the ER, yet his words were always laced with harsh care to make you confront your own overreactions instead of hiding.

“Stop acting up and let me be nice to you.”

“You’re not mean to men; you just don’t do bullshit.”

“It’s okay to be a little excited about this,” Rene interjects, slicing through the thick current of your anxiety.

And you are, excited and a little nervous, though you don’t respond to her, simply reaching for your clear lip gloss to finish your makeup.

By the time there is a knock on your door thirty minutes later, you and Rene are ready to go. Your curls are piled high on your head, tendrils falling to frame your face and your hairline slicked with curled edges. There’s a subtle shake in your hands wrapped around the handle of your front door, betraying the calm façade you wear. As you open it, expecting Toji’s familiar face, you’re met with Shiu, a toothpick in his mouth and a gentle smile playing on his lips.

You greet him warmly with a hug, letting him inside. He can only hug you for a second before rushing past you and toward the direction of your room, anxious to see his fiancé. “Don’t fuck on my bed!” you yell after him, loud enough for your cousin to hear.

It’s only a minute later when there’s a knock at the door that makes you jump, shocking you into reality again as you realize that you haven’t moved since inviting Shiu inside. In your stupidity, you look through the peephole and swallow the gasp at Toji’s distorted form.

“I can see your feet. Open the door,” his deep voice cuts, familiar and commanding.

Your fingers curl against the wooden surface of your door, nails scratching lightly along the veneer as you wrestle with the innate temptation to be stubborn. Besides Nanami Kento—another close friend and coworker—Toji is the only man you’ve let talk to you like this. He’s a little bit of an asshole, but beneath his rough exterior lies a tender core that beckons you to peel back the layers like an onion, eager to feel just how soft the bulb is in the center. You’re drawn to him in a way you can’t explain, and it’s a longing that ignites a hunger that you haven’t experienced in a very long time.

With a resigned sigh, you swing the door open to be welcomed by the sight of him, a picture that leaves you momentarily breathless. You swallow the drool that pools instantly in the back of your throat, curl your toes in your sneakers to resist the urge to spring forward and slant your lips against his, and bite the inside of your lip so the twitching on the sides does not turn into a gentle smirk.

“You look good, baby,” his words roll off his tongue effortlessly, his gaze sweeping over you with a knowing intensity. It feels as though he’s studying a heavily guarded masterpiece that he finally has his hands on to steal. He notices every stroke of paint, every blotch that makes you who you are and it’s with a concentration that leaves you dizzy enough to grip the door tighter in your hands.

Though only a week has passed since you last saw him, his presence still grips you with a force that borders on intoxicating. Clad in a black shirt that accentuates his commanding presence, his broad shoulders exude a magnetic strength that summons you, stirring a primal desire to dig your fingernails into him like you did that night in your truck. One of his hands is tucked in a jeaned pocket, the other is behind his back, and jet-black locks brush his cheeks as he chuckles, undoubtedly amused by the dumbfounded stare that you’re still shooting his way. His scar cradles the side of his lips in a seductive curl as he smirks.

God, he’s so—he’s so—

His presence seems to fill the entire room, a tangible force even without crossing the threshold of your home. An urgent ache surges within you, craving the warmth of his embrace, the security of his strength.

“You gonna let me in or just keep your mouth open for the flies?” His voice breaks the reverie in your mind, a well-known blend of annoyance that fills your chest immediately. You’re reminded of how effortlessly irritating he can be, yet there’s a strange allure in his confidence.

At this point, you don’t have a quip loaded up quick enough to shoot back at him. So, you step aside and hold your breath as his large body crosses the threshold of your home.

The last time he was at your door, he barged inside with a barely contained fury and pulled you into an argument that stemmed from your unwillingness to be vulnerable and his lack of expertise in expressing himself. It was a weird song and dance that marked the beginning of something you still don’t fully understand. Now, he’s here with a slightly different demeanor, calm and self-assured as he plants a firm kiss on your cheek as if he’s a hardworking husband returning home just in time for dinner.

You gape at his nonchalance, watching in disbelief as he kicks off his shoes and pulls his hand from behind his back, presenting you a bouquet of flowers in a manner that feels both rushed and sincere. You look down at the flowers, wide-eyed and blinking to make sure the reality you are currently in isn’t actually a simulation.

Daisies.

Not the cheap, wilted blooms you kind of expected from him, but fresh, vibrant flowers. Their white petals gleam softly, each grain of pollen in the yellow center visible in the light of your kitchen. The stems are freshly cut, wrapped in a simple red bow and your chest is fluttering with a severity that unsettles you.

“I didn’t know what kind you liked. And I don’t trust Shiu with an honest answer so…” His words trail off, leaving unspoken sentiments lingering in the air.

Your lips curl around words that won’t form, and you mentally sort through your book of tricks. It’s a book you’ve spent years filling after countless experiences. Men will do just about anything for pussy. There’s no reason to be shocked at why they do the things they do—they’re all the same.

But even from that first day you met, you have already shuffled through your book when it comes to Toji. Every time you look up whatever trick he tries to pull, you come up with an empty page. There’s never a solution or a pre-written response that you can use. You have no choice but to figure this out on your own and fill in the pages later.

“If you don’t like them, you don’t have to take them,” he cuts into your thoughts, words edged with a trace of embarrassment that he’s trying to cover up with frustration. “Just give them back—” He reaches for the flowers, and you reflexively pull your arms away, much to your own shock at the way your body moves on its own.

“I like them,” you blurt out, your voice not as strong as you want it to be but thankfully steady as the words leave your lips. “They’re very nice, Toji. Thank you.”

He drops his hand, shoves it deep into the pocket of his jeans before clearing his throat and giving you a sharp nod. His eyes take in your face for only a second before they flit away to focus on a random spot in your living room, a hint of blush on his cheeks that makes the fluttering in your chest pick up in speed. It’s a weird feeling that will consume you if you don’t stay in control.

So, you push it down, swallow the pool of saliva in your mouth so it can help the glide, all the way down to the pit of your belly to extinguish the embers that threaten to lick to life. You shuffle past him and into the kitchen to fetch a vase, your mind sorting through the symptoms of various pulmonary diseases to distract yourself from the giddiness of him getting you flowers.

A normal thing. The bare minimum for a man. But it makes you feel great all the same. They aren’t your favorite, not even close, but it’s a gesture that shatters your preconceived notions about Toji that probably shouldn’t be there in the first place.

“What are they?” he asks, face still pink below his eyes that linger on the countertop instead of at you. You untie the bow at the stems and slide the daisies into an antique vase with crystalline ridges, shooting him a questioning raised eyebrow in response. One of his hands gestures wildly to the vase you are filling with water. “Your favorite flowers.”

“Snapdragons.” Toji throws you a quizzical look, his eyebrows pinched together in a clear display of confusion that makes you chuckle. You push the now full vase of flowers to the center of your kitchen countertop, the sight warming your stomach no matter how much you try to stop it. “They aren’t in season, but there’s a vendor here that sells them in the Spring and Fall. Growing up, we lived right next to a river where they would grow. My father would pick them every year and bring them to my mother as a gift. Whenever they wilted, he picked more and replaced them…over and over until they weren’t in season anymore.”

You dig your teeth into the wet flesh of your cheek to stop yourself from rambling, the need to talk more about yourself is at the tip of your tongue. He’s quiet as he takes in your response, eyebrows twitching with fleeting emotion before they smooth out into their usual calm expression. Maybe it’s your eyes playing tricks, but he looks as if he’s locked away your little nugget of information and is ready to move on to the next thing.

More of you.

That gaze is now free of shyness and taking you in, sharp and cutting and rough around the edges, his green irises sliding down to the exposed skin of your thighs, and they must beckon him because he makes his way towards you with a dominating presence that tightens your throat. He walks around the countertop, avoiding the sharp edge from biting into his side and now he’s standing in front of you, looming and dwarfing you without even trying. You catch a whiff of his cheap cologne—a different scent from what you smelled before—but still rich with bergamot undertones that make you more curious than bothered at his frugal mentality.

“Can I kiss you? Or you gonna smack me instead?”

Even though he’s teasing, he displays the growing knowledge of your boundaries and the lengths you will go to protect yourself.

“What, you want to get smacked, Toji?” you retort, lifting an eyebrow at him, your neck tingling from the strain of looking up due to his height. God, he’s such a big man. Big and burly and just enough to overwhelm you in a way that you crave so, so much.

“Nah. I want a kiss,” he confidently responds, blowing away the cloud of lust from around your head.

He’s too close and yet not close enough. He smells too good, looks too good with a voice that’s too deep and melodic for you to ride on logic for a full day, but you need him closer, so much closer and—

Your back brushes against the edge of the kitchen sink, making you tense at the realization that he’s backed you up against it and is looking down at you with that nasty smirk you entertain more than you should.

“You…” you begin, trailing off when one of his muscular arms reaches past you to rest onto the counter on one side, still giving you an escape route even though you’ll take being trapped against him any time of the day. “You already kissed me on the cheek when you walked in without asking me. Don’t be stingy.”

Toji clicks his tongue in disappointment, the sound pushing a rush of electricity down your spine that’s generating too much energy between your legs. He shrugs, broad shoulders pulling up and down, stretching his shirt in the most delicious way. “That’s not enough.”

Although lust is darkening your thoughts slowly despite your resolve, you still have enough common sense to remember the kind of woman you are. You’re someone unwilling to tolerate fuckboy behavior and would rather humiliate a man than give in to temptation that would only embarrass you in the future. You have to stay in control. Just for the rest of the day to measure his intentions with a level head. Even though you feel heavy with lidded eyes, you slip into that second skin of yourself with ease.

“Ask nicely,” you whisper.

He takes the bait—like they always do—and slinks further into your space, his broad and muscular form brushes against your softer one. Your gaze remains indifferent as he asks to kiss you in a sing-song voice that’s borderline annoying and teasing, threatening to make you laugh despite your resistance.

You take in his question with a noncommittal hum and slide a hand up the soft fabric of his chest. The muscles underneath flex and twitch beneath your palm, echoing memories of that unforgettable night when you could slide your fingers on the sweat of his abs as you rode him for all he was worth.

Your hand rests against his cheek, watching as he slowly falls for your trap, inhaling deeply with his lips a mere breath away from yours before you speak calmly and softly.

“No.”

You stroke his cheek in a soothing manner before patting it a little too hard that’s close to a smack, yanking a grunt of frustration from him as he pulls away with an bothered growl. You relish in the sigh of his scar twisting when his face curls with annoyance, his eyes rolling and his arms folding across his chest like a child being denied dessert. You can’t help the laugh that bubbles from your lips, growing in intensity as his eyes narrow at you.

“You’re so damn annoying,” he pouts, and the fact that he truly looks put off for not getting a kiss only makes you laugh harder.

***

The sight and sound of cheering fans excite you, filling you with childhood memories of games with your father. As the four of you make your way through the large parking lot and in the direction of the stadium, you take in the display of emotions that cross Toji’s face as he is immersed in a part of culture unfamiliar to him. The intricacies of American sports are puzzling to Toji, you realize. While you wave excitedly to the fans who are tailgating and grilling food and playing cornhole, he looks on in disbelief. When you explain the concept of tailgating to him, his expression deepens even more. He doesn’t like the hecklers that litter right outside the entrance and try to sell nosebleed tickets twelve times the market price. He thinks porta-pottys are foul as he takes in the long line of people who wait along the side of the large parking lot. You can tell he’s a little overwhelmed, and aggravated by the new things he learns. But he doesn’t complain, content to listen to the three of you as he watches his surroundings.

Despite the array of emotions that engulf him, he keeps you by his side without a second thought. The closer you get to the stadium, the thicker the crowd gets. When you make it through security and begin the long journey up the stone circular walkway of the stadium, Toji wraps a muscular arm around you and rests his hand on your hip in a grip that conveys a protective strength that shoots fluctuating reactions through you.

At first, you think he just wants his hands on you, and you’re prepared to smack his touch away. But then your perception shifts; a random man bumps into you with a sharp elbow into your arm and he turns around with an angry expression ready to yell. The glare that Toji levels at him leaves the man sputtering and apologizing before he slinks back into the crowd.

Normally, you don’t thrive off blatant displays of masculinity, but the sight of the man running away from Toji’s imposing stare makes your stomach fill with a deep-seated lust that surprises you. Like you’re a cavewoman, watching her caveman beat at his chest when another caveman gets too close to you. Toji grumbles to himself about the sheer number of people, his voice tinged with frustration even though his reassuring touch is gentle as he guides you through the throng of people toward your seats.

Thankfully, they aren’t nosebleeds, and they give you a good view of the field, with players already warming up. There is a large group of kids who hang off the rails, squealing in delight as their favorite players come and say hello and sign their jerseys and footballs. The speakers boom with music and commercial ads, the warm air carries the smell of popcorn up your nose, and your blood pumps in excitement.

It has been a while since you attended a football game, distant memories of sitting on your father’s shoulders as you both cheered in the stands. Since his death, you haven’t had the drive nor the time to attend another. So, to be in this position again with a man you are still trying to understand, it’s odd. But it’s not unwelcome and you’re going to enjoy every minute of it. When you watch football at home with your family, you’re a different person. You are loud and unashamed to express your feelings when you watch the games unfold. You stand up and sneer and bark at the officiant who can’t even hear you. You argue with your family about plays and players who will never know you. You love every emotion that the game brings out in you, and you’re unashamed to hide it. Toji is going to see a side of you that will either push him away or make him slink closer for more.

So, when the game begins with the kickoff, you join in the collective screams of the crowd, waving a towel in the air adorned with the yellow and black of your favorite team that is playing.

To your surprise once more, Toji did his homework. He effortlessly explains the rules as you both watch the first quarter together, looking to you for approval to make sure he’s correct. His attentive nature transforms into active participation as he cheers alongside you, his voice deep and booming compared to your screeching.

In the second quarter, there’s an injury on the field and the clash of pads ceases for long enough that fans leave their seats for food and to stretch their legs. Shiu and Rene disappear to get themselves a drink and it’s just you and Toji in the middle of empty seats.

“You’re a screamer,” he teases, his voice low and appreciative as he leans on his thigh with a cheek resting on his fist. His hair flows in the warm air before settling on pale cheeks.

“Too loud for you?” you retort, even if mildly curious about what he thinks of this side of yourself.

Toji purses his lips as he regards you with relaxed eyes. “It didn’t take me long to realize you’re not a dainty little thing. And besides,” A smile stretches across his face, white teeth glinting with a sinister disposition before his lips load with a remark you know will be salacious. “I like my women loud.”

You can be loud if he wants you to be. Preferably in another place besides your car where he can thrust like a man mad between your legs and dig those gleaming white teeth into the skin of your neck—

Oh.

For fuck’s sake.

Your blood simmers in your veins at the suggestion in his words. His eyes watch your throat when you swallow a thick pool of spit and that smile grows impossibly larger, a Cheshire cat looking at you with nasty intent. He’s too aware of the effect he has on women, and you have to look away from him to resist succumbing to the seductive charm that he wields naturally.

You steer the conversation back into your hands. “You were so curious about me when we first met but I don’t know much about you. Are you here in America for a reason? What do you do for work?”

In your own line of work, observation is key; every subtle cue from your patients holds significance, revealing layers of truths that they usually try to conceal. So, when you notice the tension in Toji’s jaw at your question, the way his features contort subtly, it’s a detail you slot into a drawer of curiosity that takes part of the file cabinet of Toji in your mind.

“I’m a private investigator,” he confesses harshly, catching you off guard. It’s a revelation you don’t anticipate. His imposing features give you the impression of a firefighter or maybe even a cop. Not someone watching others in his car, bugging houses and apartments, and gathering evidence. A PI? You open that drawer of curiosity again and slot away this information as well. He shrugs away the awkwardness that your silence brings, nonchalant and dismissive, avoiding your gaze. “It pays the bills. The hours suck sometimes but…the work is easy.”

“So…naturally I can’t really ask about the things you do?” you don’t hide the inquisitiveness that coats your words.

“It’s nothing glamorous enough to talk about.” And that’s all he offers you in response.

You have a myriad of questions swirling in your mind, each vying for attention from a man who is as tight-lipped as you. How did he even get into this kind of work? Who are his clients? Cheaters, embezzlers…or criminals?

That and so much more brew in your mind, tumbling over the other but ultimately dissipating when you sense his reluctance, evident from his still-averted gaze and tense shoulders.

“What about family? You asked me about mine, but I never got to hear about yours.”

Granted, you only told him about the members of your family who danced in your backyard when you both were wrapped in one another two weeks ago. He doesn’t know about the more intimate parts of your family life. He doesn’t know about your father’s death, or the estrangement of your stepfamily. But that can come later. Toji hasn’t given you enough of himself.

Toji’s features now morph into disdain, souring the air between you. The bright emerald of his eyes dims with a grayish overcast, the liquid of the irises hardening like cooling lava.

His response is terse, laced with palpable displeasure that intensifies the acrid taste in the air. “There isn’t much to tell. I don’t get along with them, and they do their best to not get along with me either.” The timbre of his voice is lower, menacing enough to let you know it’s a subject he won’t entertain. At least for right now.

You open your mouth to speak again, to maybe apologize for making him uncomfortable, to reassure him that you wouldn’t judge him over something like this. He shifts in his seat, clasps his hands together and absentmindedly picks at a callous on the side of his thumb. The pink flush on his cheeks is not one of bashfulness, but of frustration and embarrassment. From the sliver of his eyes you can see, there is something simmering beneath the surface that might take you a while to unveil.

“I do have a son, though.” The sentence shoots into the air and down your spine with a chilling clarity, breaking the flow of your thoughts as you blink in astonishment.

Pardon???

Considering he’s a grown man a few years older than you, it’s understandable. But the notion of him being a father never crossed your mind. The concept of children isn’t foreign to you; you see and take care of them every day. It’s the concept of children coming from him that’s a new development you have to consider.

While you believe you can handle a relationship with a single father, you’re upset at being told now, rather than before.

“You were with me all day two weeks ago and you never took the time to mention you have a son?”

You don’t hide your irritation. Once your trust is lost, it’s almost impossible to regain. Why would you give away sacred pieces of yourself to a man you wouldn’t trust to hold those pieces with care?

Despite your frustration, you rationalize.

Maybe Toji was nervous to bring it up? Some people may like to ease into such topics. This relationship, or whatever this is, is brand new and smooth. There haven’t been any cracks caused by arguments or behavior that is damaging.

But this isn’t about having a job that he’s not proud of or admitting that he is not financially responsible. This is about an entire child, a facet of his life that he cannot hide away. How long would he have waited to tell you if the topic of family hadn’t come up so soon? Would he have told you? Would he hide his son away and push him off to a babysitter on date nights so you are never aware? Would he sleep over at your house, so you can’t see the room that’s decorated for a child or the toys scattered about the floor?

As you wrestle with the growing anxiety that crawls across your skin, Toji fumbles for something in his pocket, his face a satisfying beet red as you watch him hand you his open phone. Bright from the illumination of the screen, you take in a picture of a young boy who bears a striking resemblance to Toji. His raven locks spiky and disheveled, his green eyes sharp and ethereal, and he wears a bored and calm expression just like his father. The chubbiness of his cheeks and innocence in his eyes tug at something in your chest; he can’t be any older than six years old. The sight of the boy makes you think of the many kids you take care of every day, and some of the frustration subsides within you.

“His name is Megumi,” he informs you, shy despite his rough exterior. He picks at the callous on the side of his thumb again, and one of his legs begins to shake in place.

The frustration dies down more. It’s a beautiful name, and as you look at the picture, a small smile tugs at your lips. You wonder what kind of a boy he is.

“Fuck listen—just I-I’m shit at this.”

You look up at him and take in the apprehension on his face. His lips are downturned in a gentle frown, the scar on the side of his face warped along with the muscles of his mouth. There’s a sense of shame in his gaze, and it somehow makes you feel relieved to know that he can feel just how upset you are.

“I don’t date women…I fuck them and stay around until they want me gone.” He doesn’t bother to sugarcoat his words. They shoot out of his mouth, piercing your skin with their directness. It’s a little painful, and you struggle to absorb his blatant honesty, feeling flashes of anger and indignation fill your chest as your lips part, ready to respond with directness of your own. “But you’re the first woman in a long fucking time that’s made me want more. So just…” he trails off, stuttering over what to say before ultimately growling low in his throat into silence.

You hesitate, lips flinching and syllables of fury dissipating in the small space between your top and bottom lip. “You gonna let me meet him?” you snap because you’re still mildly irritated as you give him his phone and pinch the muscle of his bicep with a harshness that reflects your fading anger and your desire to see him squirm for his actions.

He swats your hand away as if you’re a pest, moving his arm from you with a sneer that holds no malice. “No let me just lock him in my closet every time I want to see you—of course, I’ll fucking let you meet him.”

You throw him a withering glare, ignoring his sarcasm, and the smirk that slides onto his lips only makes you want to either smack or kiss him. The fact that you can’t decide on which only annoys you more.

*** Toji ***

“Gimme two hot dogs and a pretzel,” Toji mutters to the concession stand attendant. It’s halftime, and the walkways behind the stands are crowded with fans hurrying to go to the bathroom, or for more food and alcohol. You stand close to him, a welcome warmth that he wants more of but refuses to ask for on the off chance you deny him. He doesn’t feel like pouting for the rest of the day.

“And what’ll it be for the lady?” the attendant asks with a level of humor that is off-putting, a smile on his face that Toji knows you itch to smack off.

“It is for the lady,” you correct, a hint of condescension falling from plush lips that you still won’t let him taste. The attendant sputters, his face red as a tomato as he takes the rest of Toji’s order, doing his best to ignore the deadly glare you shoot him as he counts Toji’s money. A snort rattles from Toji’s chest as he watches you. He’s known from the beginning that you’re fiery, but seeing it firsthand fascinates and arouses him at the same time.

This environment is different for him, odd in every way, and a foreign ground that he’s unsteady on. The celebratory atmosphere reminds him of the loud laughter and fireworks from festivals that he could hear outside the Zenin compound throughout the year. He thinks of the Tanabata festivals he never got to experience or the years of Hanami that he was forbidden to enjoy. He could only take a small bit of pleasure in cherry blossoms in the Zenin gardens, blooming and scattering their petals on the well-kept grass to mark the beginning of the season. As a child, he was never allowed much. He was seen as ‘inferior trash’ that was insignificant and unworthy to be looked at let alone talked to unless it was to yell or belittle. Naturally, his family didn’t want others to see where said trash came from if they could help it.

He can’t think about it right now—he won’t. The thought of his family brings a tight coil of pain and anger in his chest, a coil he had used as fuel to cope with his dangerous decisions.

There’s so much more that he needs to focus on, like the fact that you’ve already taken a big bite out of one of your hot dogs. Half of it has disappeared from your hand, and there’s ketchup on the edge of your mouth as you chew. He notices the way you shift your hips from side to side in your seat, and the satisfied hum that escapes your throat. You’re satisfied, and while you eat with manners, you don’t hide your boisterous enjoyment, finishing one hot dog and moving on to the next, your pretzel wedged between the meat of your seductive thighs.

He’s been trying to be respectful all day ever since you denied him a kiss in the kitchen, but you’re tempting him. When you answered the door earlier in the afternoon, the hand that was in his pocket pinched the side of his thigh until the shameless thoughts could fade away.

You’ve graced his presence with shorts and a jersey, a yellow and black number that lays against your chocolate skin in a way that still seems to make you glow in the setting sun. No braids this time, your natural curls have fallen from your bun after screaming so much, framing your face and causing your gold hoops to wink at him. You didn’t wear makeup that night when he met you, so the sight of eyeliner on you today, and the way it accentuates the curve of your eye and the heaviness of your long lashes, it makes him shift in his seat.

He’s had to clench his jaw and bear the pain of his teeth grinding against each other to stop himself from ogling at the mouth-watering canvas of your legs. You’re all curves with dimples at the bottom of your thighs when you sit, and his gums ache to sink into the flesh so you can squeal and beg for him to touch you where you want it most. It’s been weeks since that night and he’s feigning for more. When you smile at him or shoot him a glare, it reminds him of that commanding aura you had in the backseat of your truck, and the back of his neck prickles with sweat.

While the thought of you skinning him alive if he decides to be a Neanderthal turns him on, he wants to be civil. In your kitchen earlier today, you allowed him to get close enough to feel the heat radiating from your skin, to catch the scent of coconut from your curls, tantalizing his senses until your firm ‘no’ sobered him up immediately. It was a stark reminder of who you are, and how little you tolerate.

He'll behave.

His eyes catch you guzzling down five heaping gulps of your beer, the foam coating your upper lip. You wipe it away with your finger, sucking the digit into your mouth, and popping it out completely oblivious to how sinful you look and Toji’s catapulted into that day when you sucked your own cum off his fingers.

He has to behave.

The vibration of his phone in his pocket sours his mood immediately, turning his gaze from your form as he digs into his pocket. It’s the third time it’s buzzed today, and he knows who it is. No matter how hard he tries to ignore it, he can only put off his job for so long.

Unknown: Good job on the assignment last week.

Unknown: Your pay should be in your account by tonight.

Unknown: There’s another contract for you if you’re interested. Message me back and I’ll send you details.

“Everything okay?” Your voice pulls him from his phone, and he meets your curious gaze, one of your elegant eyebrows lifting in question as you assess him. “Something with work?”

“Yea,” he replies and regrets it immediately.

Lie #1

It’s not a complete lie—it is work—but the details…

Toji takes a long swig of his beer, attempting to soothe the shame that washes over him.

You really are a screamer.

Toji sits back in his seat, watching you with a wicked smile as you unleash a torrent of colorful language that makes his cock twitch. Even though you roar with the crowd, your voice rises higher.

“That’s a fucking flag! I should come down there and officiate for you instead you stupid piece of shit!”

Your curls brush the skin of your cheeks that puff in your frustration, your arms folding across your chest as you cock your hip and growl beneath your breath. You’re easily the loudest one in this section of the stands. Rene revels in it, egging you on by rooting for the opposite team and giggling when you bark at her. Shiu is content to watch the display, a fresh toothpick in his mouth and an arm over Rene’s shoulders as he idly twirls a lock of hair at her nape. You’re all yelling and sputtering indignation as you watch the game unfold, your team losing by what Toji has learned is a touchdown.

He knew this side of you was there. He could tell in the weight of your gaze that night. It's a side of you that he did not expect to see so soon. He soaks it in. He takes in the way you cuss out the man three rows down who won’t stop glaring at you. He absorbs how high-pitched the screech of your voice makes his eardrums shake, and he revels in the smile that forms on your lips when your team scores the game-winning touchdown.

When there are lulls in the game, you tell him about your career. You’re a pulmonary pediatric fellow at a hospital here in town that’s only a year and a half from completing your fellowship. You smile when you talk about the kids you take care of and your associates at work. You’re proud of your research and of how far you’ve come.

All of it, every part of you that you show him, is comforting. Warm despite how cold you appear. It’s a comfort he didn’t imagine having…ever in his life—especially a dreary life like his. But he soaks up this—you—as much as he can.

When the game is over, you’re elated and giggling, tucked into his side as he guides you through the drunken crowd. The moon is high in the sky, and it bathes your skin and makes you stand out in the crowd. You look up at him, smiling softly with a buzzed gaze that’s two beers deep.

“Did you have fun? Not bad for your first American game?”

“You screamed the entire time,” he teases, chuckling at the way you gape up at him and then sneer before turning away. He throws his arm around your shoulders, using the touch as a safe territory to keep his hands to himself, and pulls you closer.

You demand cotton candy which he indulges in as well before you both part ways with Rene and Shiu. The journey back to your apartment is a quiet one. As Toji drives, the warm July air fills the car, mingling with the faint strains of classic rock playing on the radio. Toji watches with flickering glances as you hum along, your eyes closed and the breeze wafting through your curls loose around your shoulders.

Something inside of him rattles. Whatever it is, it’s long-forgotten and buried deep within him, surrounded by cobwebs and dust that have accumulated over time since that dark day years ago.

*** You ***

From the short journey of his car to inside of your apartment, you repeat to yourself that you have to take this slow, for your own peace of mind.

You keep the most intimate parts of yourself locked away and only those who are worthy of you have a copy of the key. But somehow, and in such a short time, Toji has stolen a copy for himself and slotted the key into the door. But thankfully, the door is caught against the wall, hinges rusted over and ungiving.

You have to know more about him before you let him in to look at those parts of you. If you jump the gun and give him more so soon and end up hurt, it will throw you into a depth of pain that you promised yourself to never touch again if you could help it.

“You have a good time?”

Toji’s voice breaks the silence, his arms folding tightly across his chest, betraying the restlessness in his hands. His messy black locks, tousled by the late July humidity, partially hide his emerald gaze, which flickers briefly to meet your own before darting away.

Your socked feet pad across the hardwood floor, closing the space between you, and your head slowly tilts to look at him. Despite his façade of composure, his scar curves against his lips in a slight twist, twitching as he tries not to frown. Thin eyebrows pitch down in frustration, and you catch the way his fingertips drum against the skin of his biceps. He’s fidgety—nervous. Is he upset with himself? Ashamed that he couldn’t take you out on a proper date with dinner and a movie like everyone else expects?

Hopefully, he will learn that you go against the grain of proper in so many ways.

“I had a great time,” you confess softly, noticing the subtle relaxation in his stance at your words. The thrumming of his fingers stop, the tension in his shoulder fades. “You wanted to take me out and I let you. That all you want from me?”

He’s such an expressive man.

His face twists, perturbed by your bluntness and the prospect of delving into emotional territory. “I told you already that I want more.”

His declaration sends a fluttering through your heart that is reminiscent of the feeling you had when he surprised you with a slice of yellow cake. It’s comforting, and you want to lean into it. But it’s not enough to overwhelm you. You’re still in your right mind and still aware of your expectations even though he captivates you.

You press your finger into the firmness of his chest, hard so that the muscle pillows around your digit. The gaze you shoot up at him is unyielding, serious, and menacing enough that he straightens his spine just a little.

“Listen to me, because I’m only going to say this one more time. I don’t do situationships. I don’t do friends with benefits or the occasional hookup. I’m not saying things need to be serious with us but…you need to show me that you mean it.”

As you speak, you assess Toji, who shows no signs of amusement or ignorance. His posture is rigid, his back ramrod straight, and his deep green gaze locked onto yours.

“That night we had was great. I won’t deny that but…I won’t compromise my expectations and I don’t tolerate bullshit. I’m not going to let you fuck me just because we did it before. You want more? I want you to try. Earn me.”

You relish in the way his eyes widen, contemplating your words and the severity beneath them before his face smooths back into its usual cool demeanor. He unfolds his arms from his chest, and you curse inwardly at the way you immediately watch his shirt stretch across defined pectorals.

“You know you’re a feisty little thing.”

Heat from the way he speaks and annoyance at his lack of attention flare within you like wildfire. You open your mouth to yell, to bark at him to be serious, but the sound of his laughter extinguishes that fire inside of you instantly.

He doesn’t offer an apology for his comment and you don’t need one. You know you’re feisty and steadfast. It’s the only way you can function around men to survive, to stay afloat and still have a grasp of who you are. And if Toji couldn’t handle it, you definitely wouldn’t have slept with him or entertained a date that you thoroughly enjoyed.

“I’ll try,” he finally offers, voice soft but filled with conviction. Normally the small remark would offend you, but surprisingly coming from Toji, it’s enough.

Observing his behavior today and a little bit two weeks ago, you note his acceptance of your quirks and individuality—at least the bits you allow him to see. He marveled at the amount of food you ate and joined alongside you. He let you babble to him about every single player on your favorite team and how many championships they had won. He let you display your strength in your voice and personality, didn’t try to control or overshadow you like so many other past experiences you’ve had before learning how to rule the men in your life.

He let you be yourself.

And that thought makes you finally open your mouth to give him something he had asked for earlier, something you had previously denied despite your own desires.

“You can have your kiss,” you offer with a shrug, feigning nonchalance even though your heart picks up in speed as the implication registers on his face. “So you better do it right.”

It’s an invitation that he snatches away from your imaginary hands and tears open with thick fingers, greedy and growling with finality.

His sharp gaze traces the contours of your body, unabashed in its appraisal, leering at the pieces of skin visible to him. You know he’s been looking at you all day, but his observation now is intense, heavy and without reservation and you’re fumbling from the sudden rush of longing that pumps hot through your veins.

Toji inches closer, your hands instinctively find their way to his chest, his towering presence overwhelming your small stature. His height ignites an evolutionary desire in you that makes your mouth water, makes your cunt pulse with need beckoning for him to fill the mold he left inside two weeks ago. You’re still not used to climbing up the summit of him, so the air is thin once more, pulling the oxygen from your lungs and stuttering in your chest when a large hand cups the side of your neck and tilts your face up to him like an offering.

When his lips slide against yours, your fingers in his shirt tighten. His touch singes the ends of your nerves, boils the blood in your veins that pump fast throughout your body. Your skin is burning, searing when muscular arms hoist you up and wrap your legs around his thick waist before your ass is sliding on the cold marble of your kitchen counter, your lips still sealed against his.

There’s so much of this that feels like that night at your uncle’s. So much and yet not enough.

He drowns you with his touch, digs his fingers into the plump flesh of your thighs before yanking you, hard and with unforgiving impatience, closer to his body. The fabric of your jeans rubs too harsh against your wet panties, digs against the sensitivity of your clit and you repress the insatiable yearning to roll your hips against his.

Toji’s large hands slide up your body, traversing the mesh of your jersey that hugs you before cupping each side of your face again to tilt you sharper in the way he wants. Blue raspberry from the cotton candy you both indulged in after the game coats his tongue that licks your bottom lip in a silent request for entrance, and you grant him access, surrendering a whimper into his mouth as his tongue slides sinfully against yours. Tastebuds kiss your own, slide against them with whispered promise of satisfaction if you just relax and melt further into him. Just a little.

But you can’t, god you can’t.

You’re losing control and you have to stay strong. You have to stay above the waters of logical thinking even though you’re sinking with every stroke of his tongue, with every sweet, hot breath into your mouth, with every inch of flesh that your fingers dig into his chest because you need more. More than a kiss, more than what he’s offering, and you know he can give it to you. Toji can pull you into the inferno he’s raging inside of your body until your clothes are scorched off and his skin is sliding against yours sweaty, sticky, and undulating with every roll of his hips.

But he doesn’t give you more. He doesn’t pull you further into that fire.

The intensity of his kiss dies down slowly, his lips pulling away from yours with a wet smack as you pant along with him. Toji kisses your lips once, then twice, nips your bottom lip to seal everything he’s given before smirking down at you. Too devilish and arrogant and you don’t have a working brain cell in your head right now to correct him. His hands that cradle your cheeks slide down to your upper arms, giving them a gentle squeeze before he speaks.

“You still gonna let me be nice to you?”

His words are an echo of that night, his own way of telling you that he’s here. That he wants more—that he wants to give you more. You just have to let him.

With your head still swimming and the pulsing between your legs refusing to calm, you want him to be more than nice right now. But remembering the boundaries you have set, you nod instead and sigh into him when he kisses you one last time, sweeping his blue raspberry-flavored tongue against yours before pulling away, acting as though it’s nothing, as though you’re not sweaty at the small of your back and trembling with desire.

“Lock the door for me,” he commands, words devoid of a questioning tone, but filled with a sense of security and protection that you lean into.

“O-okay,” you manage to breathe, your heart slowing back into sinus rhythm, only to jump again as he places one final kiss on your lips, then your nose. You frantically bat him away before you lose consciousness, because any more and you’ll drag him into your room and disregard everything you said five minutes ago.

You watch him saunter away, pull his keys from his pocket, and twirl them in his hand before winking. “I’ll text you.”

It sounds so ridiculous coming from his lips, from a grown man who looks as if he doesn’t even know what a cellphone is, let alone a text message.

But it still makes your heart jump all the same.

You can only nod in response because your throat is too dry and heavy in the back of your throat with each swallow you take. You follow him to the door and roll your eyes at his annoying smirk before he closes the door behind him, casting your apartment into silence.

Your fingers wobble as they turn the locks of your door into place. You’re lightheaded, brain flitting through salacious memories of what you both did weeks ago and what you could easily be doing now.

You throw your back against the door and sag to the floor with an annoyed sigh.

*** Toji ***

Unknown: There’s another contract for you if you’re interested. Message me back and I’ll send you details.

Toji: I’m interested. Send me what you have.

178 notes · View notes

thevelria · 8 months

Text

Blood and Poker - Don't worry, I'll be gentle (NSFW/mafia!Gojo x pokerplayer!fem!reader)

Author's note: this is the 2nd part of this story. I did a collab with my lovely friend @randompurr She drew all the amazing fanarts for this story. Please check her account and give her all the love, because she deserves the world! <3

wordcount:5.9K

DO NOT copy and repost her art without giving credit! Reblogs, comments and likes are much appreciated.

Warnings: MDNI/ 18+ ONLY!/detailed, heavy smut, injuries, blood, violence, murder. Mention of guns and illegal business. It's a mafia AU after all lol

Surprise: uncensored version of the NSFW fanart will be linked under the picture.

I also would like to thank my lovely ladies @ladycheesington and @m-jelly for helping me with ideas and proofreading <3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The doorbell rang at 7 sharp. Just as he said earlier on the phone. You were ready to go. The fact you spent almost your whole day trying to find what to wear was something you kept as a secret.

Earlier that day:

After Gojo hung up the phone you rolled on your back and faced the ceiling. Slightly you frowned as you kept trying to figure out how he knew your address. You made up your mind that you were going to ask him as soon as he arrived. On the other hand you felt funny. A weird feeling spread in your body. You were excited. The man was so charming and smooth last night. His look was mesmerizing, handsome face, toned body and those beautiful blues.

You swung your legs across the bed and sat right at the edge before you hopped down. Big yawns and a good stretch helped you feel more awake. Since last night you arrived home really late you slept almost until 3pm. If Satoru didn’t wake you with his call you would have slept even further. It meant you had like four hours to get ready for the date.

Spending two hours in the bathroom made you feel anxious, because you already knew even if you were clean, your makeup and hair was perfect, you had no idea what to wear. A loud sigh in front of the wardrobe signaled the beginning of the game.

“Meh…” you threw away your green dress.

“Nope, not this one.” the blue lace dress landed on the floor.

This went on and on and on. You sat down at the edge of the bed and clenched your jaw.

“I hate this, I hate this, I hate this so damn much!” you shook your head, before looking up and noticing THE dress.

A sweet looking dirty-white spring dress with cute little cherries. You loved the puffy sleeves, the tight waist part and the mid-thigh long skirt. Oh and the cleavage, it was your favorite part. It cupped your boobs perfectly and formed into a big bow. You chose your burgundy heels which perfectly suited your lovely dress.

***

Gojo was drumming his fingers on the wheel in his car. He parked in front of your home but he arrived almost 20 minutes early. A bouquet of roses rested on the seat next to him. It was getting dark, even the street lighting was turned up . He frowned at the sudden bright light and looked at his way too expensive watch on his wrist. 3 minutes to go.

“Okay…” he took a deep breath. “Let’s get this girl.” he smirked as he got out of his black 1967 Chevy Impala.

It’s been years since he dated anyone. Mostly he was busy with building his empire and even if people assumed him to be a womanizer he preferred love. Gojo loved being in love. The feeling of having a partner, protecting, caring and spoiling her rotten. That’s what made his heart beat faster and not the women who threw themselves at him for money and some rounds in bed.

Confident steps he took towards your door. “Fuck, the flowers…” he slapped his palm against his forehead and rushed back to the car. At 7pm he rang the doorbell, fixing his outfit afterwards. He clenched his jaw slightly. The man was nervous, because he wanted to fascinate you way too much.

“Good evening.” Satoru greeted you with his most charming smile. Your eyes widened and you truly had to try your best not to drool. The snow white hair was slicked back, his deep red button up shirt followed his toned torso. The top two buttons were left open, slightly revealing his collarbone and the rolled up sleeves let you adore his strong forearms. Ebony pants with shiny boots made his look simply perfect.

“Hey, uhm…hey.” you cleared your throat, trying to hide the fact you were staring.

“You look absolutely ravishing, darling.” he eyed you up shamelessly. “Shall we go?” he was about to offer his arm when he realized he didn’t give you the flowers. “Fuck, I’m such an idiot.” he thought to himself. “I..I brought this for you.” he lifted up the bouquet and chuckled awkwardly.

“Thank you, Satoru. They look lovely. Give me a sec, I’ll put them into water. Wanna come in until I handle it?” you spun on your heels and just realized a second after you already invited him in. Hearing him politely refusing it made you even more anxious. “Now he thinks I wanna hump him. I’m such an idiot.” you imaginary facepalmed yourself as you picked a vase and let the flowers sink in it.

The leather seat softly sunk under your weight as you got into the car. “You have a really nice car.” you smiled as you carefully ran your index and middle finger over the glove compartment.

“Thank you.” his husky voice sent shivers down your spine. He was wealthy and had taste for sure. But still you felt like he was so much more than a simple business man. “I am flattered you actually accepted my invitation. I felt the spark between us last night and I hoped you would say yes.”

“Spark?” you smirked. “We will see about that spark.” you chuckled, while inside you screamed. Because, girl, you felt it just like he described.

One of the fanciest restaurants that just opened a few months ago was the place he took you. The staff seemed so professional, precise and kind. The inside of the building left you speechless. Huge chandeliers hung from the ceiling, beige furniture, black tables with matching chairs made the vibe luxurious.

“This way, please.” a nice looking waiter stepped next to you. You missed the quick glance he gave to Gojo. High stairs guided you up until the top of the building. An even wilder space unfolded with the same style as downstairs but with a beautiful balcony attached. You gasped and snapped your head to your date. He gave you a warm smile as he followed you to the balcony where your waiter escorted the both of you.

“Your table, bo…, I mean, sir.” he let out an awkward chuckle. “Please call me when you are ready to order. I’ll be right back with some special welcome drink.”

You made an amused expression, you were truly mesmerized by the situation.

“I assume you like this place.” Gojo smirked as he pulled the chair out for you.

“It’s wonderful.” you took a deep breath as you admired the sight. “I mean look at this.” you pointed at the city that glowed in front of you with all its glory. Buildings and skyscrapers towered into the high, tiny little cars run on the roads as if they were ants in a hive.

You zoned out for a few seconds, having flashbacks from your past months and you hummed a laugh spontaneously.

“Everything’s okay, sweetheart?” Satoru’s raspy voice snapped you back to reality.

“Sure. Yeah, sure. I was just thinking…” you tried to find the right words. “It’s just beautiful and I like it here. It’s perfect.” Your warm, honest smile melted his heart.

“I’m glad.” he placed his hand on the table. Obviously he was about to reach for your hand but he hesitated just yet. When he was sure the right time appeared he was about to touch the back of your hand.

“Your drinks.” the lovely waiter interrupted the perfect moment. Gojo flashed a deadly stare at him which made him uneasy in an instant. “I, I hope you’ll like it." He hurriedly placed two glasses and a bucket filled with ice and a bottle of champagne on the table.

“Thank you, you can leave now.” the snow white haired man waved at the waiter who nodded and spun on his heels right away. “I’ve heard this champagne is one of the best in town.” he reached for the bottle and palmed the cork, gently twisting it left and right until a solid popping sound was heard. “Let me pour you some.” he grabbed your glass, while a delicate fog escaped the cool drink.

“It tastes like heaven.” you licked your bottom lip after taking a small sip.

You frowned while checking the menu. So many fancy dishes to choose from and to be honest you have never been to a place like this. You felt a bit anxious and Gojo sensed it.

“You can pick anything you want, don’t worry about the price.” he winked at you.

“That’s sweet of you but it’s not the source of my struggling to be honest.”

“What’s wrong then?” he frowned.

“Uhm…” you cleared your throat. “I have no idea what these dishes are. Fancy names with fancy descriptions and yet I have no clue what they mean.” you bit your inner cheek, embarrassed.

“Oh, sweety.” he laughed. “Let me pick for you then, yeah? Do you like fish or would you like to eat some meat?”

“Fish is perfect.” you nodded. “I do like fish.”

“Alright.” he snapped and your waiter rushed to the table in a heartbeat.

Gojo made the order so smoothly you were amused.

In the meantime as you were waiting for your food he tried his luck once again and this time he succeeded. Gently placing his palm on the back of your hand, gently he smiled at you.

“So, tell me your story.” he cooed as he was running his thumb softly over your skin.

“What story do you mean exactly?” you let him touch you.

“You mentioned something like being a professional player.”

“I used to be, yeah.” you pulled a bittersweet smile.

“And what’s the story behind that?” he raised one of his eyebrows.

“Let’s not ruin this lovely moment with a bittersweet story like that. Rather you should tell me how you got to open your own casino at this young age? Is it a family business?” Your pupils became huge the second he shot you a charming smirk.

“We can call it like that, yeah. It’s a family business. This casino was the 5th one I opened across the country.”

“Wait a minute.” your eyes widened. “Are you telling me you have 5 casinos?”

“Actually, 12.” he chuckled. “I opened one every month last year.”

“Shut up!” you slammed your free palm against your mouth. “I’m sorry. I mean, wow. This is amazing!”

After you finished the delicious meal, which you still had no idea what it was, you excused yourself to the restroom.

“I’ll be right back.” you said politely, heading inside.

The moment you got back a tall, long black haired man was standing at your table, obviously having some serious words with your date. Eavesdropping wasn’t your intention but you involuntarily overheard some words.

“I’m telling you boss they fucked us up. The guns should have arrived tonight and yet all the containers were empty.”

“What?” Gojo sounded harsh. “What the fuck is going on? It’s the third shipment in a row. You will need to deal with this shit. I’m busy at the…” his words died mid-sentence as he noticed you standing not far from your table. “Leave! We will discuss this later.” he clenched his jaw.

Your heart was beating fast, pounding against your chest. “Did he seriously say guns?” you panicked. As the mysterious man passed you he gave you an annoyed glance. It terrified you even more.

“It’s getting late.” you checked your phone immediately. “I truly had an amazing night tonight but I’m afraid I need to go home. Tomorrow I’ll have an important meeting with my editor.” you faked a smile.

“On Sunday?” he clicked his tongue. He knew you were lying, he also was aware you’ve heard something you shouldn’t have.

“Yeah…lame, I know.” you giggled awkwardly. “I have this deadline coming up next week and…anyway. I don’t want to bore you with the details. I’m gonna catch a taxi.”

“I’ll take you home, sweetheart.” he leaned back in his chair.

“No.” you snapped. “I mean, I don’t wanna be a trouble here. You did so much for me anyway. I’m sure this dinner was way too expensive.” you pushed back your chair, threw your phone into your purse and left in a hurry.

Gojo pinched the bridge of his nose. “I can’t believe this shit.” he growled. “Everything was so fucking perfect. Damn you, Geto. I’ll kill you, I swear.” he took an irritated, deep breath before standing up and leaving as well. He saw you getting in a taxi and felt really disappointed. “She will avoid me…I feel it.”

***

A sleepless night. That’s what he gave you. So many unanswered questions were rushing through your mind. Even if you tried to distract yourself it was simply impossible. You had so much fun with him. He was gentle, polite and so damn charming. But guns? He must have been some kind of gangster and the last thing you wanted was to get involved in some nasty business. So as disappointing as it seemed you decided to ditch him.

“Good morning, darling. I hope you had a decent sleep. Oh and I cheer for you today with your editor.” This lovely message waited for you to read.

“Fuck.” you hissed after seeing it. You closed the message and left your phone at the nightstand.

Gojo tapped his feet nervously on the wooden floor in his office. “She saw it and didn’t respond.” he growled, before writing to you again.

“I was thinking maybe you wanted to meet after your meeting this evening?” Sent. Still no response, only the checkmark next to his message, showing him you read it but once again didn’t bother to write anything back.

“Damn it, baby. Stop ignoring me!” he bit his inner cheek.

During the day he got a bit carried away and kept texting you. Even if he was getting mad and desperate he stayed well-behaved. After the 10th or 11th message he took a deep breath and dialed your number. Your eyes widened the second you noticed the caller on the screen of your phone.

“Pick up the goddamn phone.” he clenched his jaw after the umpteenth missed call. But you didn’t pick up. After a while it seemed the call didn’t go through. “Did you really?” he hummed a bittersweet laugh. “She blocked me!” he threw his hands in the air, shaking his head in disbelief.

***

In the middle of the night you heard some knocking on the front door. Your eyes were still closed but you tried to focus if you really did hear something or only your mind tricked you. One more knock, this time it was a bit louder. You rubbed your eyes with the back of your hand before crawling out of the bed. Checking the clock “2:32am”.

“Who the fuck is it?” you mumbled under your nose. A third knock echoed through the living room. “I’m coming! There’s no need to break my freaking door.” you sounded harsh and irritated.

The door shot open and there he was. Gojo stood in front of you covered in blood, injured. Your eyes widened and you froze in your action.

“I’m so sorry, darling.” he panted. “But I had nowhere else to go.” he sounded weak. The second his knees buckled a bit and he almost lost his balance you stepped closer, helped him to come inside.

“What happened to you? You should go to the hospital.” you were still in shock.

“No, no. I’m fine, I just…I just need to rest.” he breathed unevenly.

A billion thoughts rushed through your mind as you guided him into the kitchen.

“Careful.” you said as you helped him to sit down. “I’ll be right back.” you rushed to the bathroom to get the first aid kit.

For a second you stood still in the bathroom, facing the mirror. Everything seemed so surreal. And even if you were scared and confused, you felt the urge to help him. After all he was nothing but polite and sweet with you. The date last night was magical.

You took a deep breath before grabbing the kit and hurried your steps back to the kitchen.

“Hey…hey, Satoru. Look at me.” you placed the box on the counter. “I need you to tell me how badly injured you are. Okay? It seems you lost a lot of blood.” you stared at his light blue buttoned up shirt.

“It’s not all mine.” he hummed a bittersweet laugh.

“Oh, God…” you shook your head. “Did you get shot?” you frowned.

“No, just stabbed.” he hissed as he tried to wiggle on the seat.

“Stabbed?” even you were surprised by your high pitched voice. “Let me see it!”

“Help me please, I can’t really move my left arm.”

Gently you fidgeted with the buttons, one after another, until his shirt was fully open. His chest was covered with bruises and cuts. But his left shoulder looked worrying. A deep, pretty big wound was revealed in front of you. It was definitely made by a stab.

“I need to clear your wounds and I definitely have to stitch this one on your shoulder.” you clenched your jaw as you took his shirt completely off.

“Thank you.” That was all he could say. Gojo was clearly in pain.

You tried to be as gentle as possible but you knew just as much as him that it wasn’t going to be a piece of cake.

“Sorry.” you bit your lower lip before you started to clean his injuries. He hissed here and there, cleared his throat but never ever complained.

Even if you tried to focus only on the main task you couldn’t help but admire his toned torso. This handsome gangster had wide shoulders, broad chest and perfectly built abs. His biceps looked huge without even flexing them.

“It’s almost done.” you smiled. “Then let me take care of the rest of the cuts on your face and as I see your knuckles are fucked up, too.”

“It’s nothing.” he hummed a laugh. “Really, it’s okay.”

“Shh…” you hushed him. “You asked me to help you, yeah? Let me do it properly.”

He stayed quiet and pulled an adorable smile.

After you gently wrapped up his knuckles you didn’t even realize that you kept running your thumb over his hand. A few seconds later you got a bandage and placed it on his cheekbone. Suddenly he put his palm on your waist and pulled you close to him. The way he rested his cheek on your tummy surprised you. You had no idea what to do. Should you have freed yourself or stayed still? An unexpected silence made the situation even more complicated. Finally you hummed and ran your fingers through his hair, softly slicking it back and planting a featherlight kiss on the top of his head. You felt as he smiled and slid his hand down to your hip, grabbing it lightly.

“Will you tell me what happened to you?” you broke the silence.

“It’s safer for you if you don’t know.”

“Satoru, please. You can’t just appear in front of my house in the middle of the night beaten up, bleeding, asking for my help and expecting me to not ask any questions.” you lifted his head to force him looking you in the eye.

“It’s so messed up, darling. Everything is just messed up.” he sighed. “And I know you heard something yesterday. I don’t know what exactly but I have a guess. You even blocked my number.”

You gulped hard, because he said the truth. You were about to ghost him.

“Are you scared of me?” he kept looking at you.

“I don’t know.” you took a deep breath. “I mean you are sweet, polite, like a real gentleman. Last night was wonderful, I did have fun with you and everything was perfect. But guns? Fucking guns? And let me tell you that guy looked terrifying. The way he stared at me froze the blood in my veins.”

“So you heard what Geto said.” he growled. “Look…” he hesitated for a second. “I’m not a simple business man. I’m the head of the Gojo clan, one of the biggest mafia families in the country. I know it sounds horrible but you need to believe me when I say that I’m a good person and I would treat you as a queen if you’re willing to give me a chance.”

“I…” you were about to say you didn’t know what to think but all of a sudden he stood up and caged you at the counter. He was way taller, so he towered above you powerfully.

“Just one chance.” he leaned dangerously close. “That’s all I’m asking for.” you felt his warm breath on your skin. A fragile nod was all you were able to present but it was more than enough for him. “Can I kiss you? Please. I've been dying to kiss you since the moment I saw you on the screen.”

“On the screen?” you were confused.

“Nevermind.” he chuckled and brushed his lips against yours. It was a delicate kiss, a gentle and soft one.

The soft kiss turned into a more intense one. A low moan escaped your mouth the second his tongue met yours. He smirked and kept kissing you with more and more passion. You threw your hands around his neck, running your fingers up and down on the back of his head, feeling his undercut brushing your skin. While he grabbed your thighs and lifted you up.

“Satoru, don’t…your shoulder is...”

“It’s okay.” he planted a featherlight kiss into your neck as you clenched your legs around his waist.

“Where’s your bedroom?” he growled. You nodded your head slightly to the right and he headed to the room without hesitation.

The sound of your uneven breathing echoed through the room as he entered your bedroom, holding you still. Gojo sat down at the edge of the bed. The mattress bent down a bit under the weight of your bodies. You caged him with your knees and you undeniably felt the bulge growing bigger and bigger in his pants.

A cheeky bite on his lower lip and one or two grinding movements on his lap drove him wild. He grabbed the back of your head as he took a deep, desperate breath.

“Are you sure about this, princess? Because once we’ve done it there’s no way back. You’re going to be mine. Only mine!” he hissed.

A naughty smirk appeared on your face. You pulled your PJ shirt above your head, revealing your breasts before you crashed your lips against his. You had no idea what’s gotten into you but you wanted nothing else but to sleep with this man.

Suddenly his hands wandered lower and cupped your bum, squeezing them while he moaned into the heated kiss. The next you remembered was him flipping you over. You landed on your back on the mattress, even bounced back a little.

“I wonder how strong you are when you are not injured.” you chuckled.

“You’ll find out, I'll make sure of that. God…” he shook his head. “You’re so beautiful.”

A slight tint of red rushed your face which he found adorable. Once again Satoru towered himself above you, his hands rested aside your head while he kept kissing your cheek, your jaw, your neck and collarbone. Working his way lower and lower. One of his hands cupped one of your tits, massaging it, enjoying the touch.

You weren’t able to hold back your moans, the heat was getting really hard to handle. When he reached your lower tummy he playfully slid his fingers under the rubber band of your PJ bottom. Your hips automatically bucked up, giving him an easy time to get rid of the unwanted cloth. As you were laying there completely naked he bit his lower lip and wiggled his way back exactly between your thighs. His breathing got faster and faster, you felt the warm air on your skin. Gojo looked you in the eye as he placed a light kiss on your folds, just right before he spread your legs wide open and his tongue slid into your needy part.

“Fuck…” you moaned and ran your fingers into his crystal white hair.

Satoru was good at eating, he got the perfect rhythm and the perfect moves. One of his hands rested on your tummy, while he lapped and sucked on your clit. Giving more and more speed to the movements caused you to shiver. Nothing else but his name rolled from your lips. He was really enjoying the moment, enjoying your beautiful pussy.

“Please…” you panted.

“Hmm? What does my princess want?” he looked up at you from between your legs.

“Toru, if you keep doing this I’m going to cum.”

“Good.” he smirked. “That was my intention anyway.” He buried his face between your folds once again but this time adding one finger to make the pleasure more intense. Your moans became louder, your hips bucked but his free hand kept you still.

“Don’t wiggle, baby. Let me eat you properly.” he giggled as he gave a quick lick to your already sensitive clit.

Your gangster slid one more finger in and it drove you completely insane. You were nothing but a moaning mess.

“I’m gonna…I think I’m gonna…” you tried to form the words without success.

“Come for me, darling.” he quickened his movements.

You felt the knot in your lower tummy get stronger and stronger. Suddenly the rush of a relieving tension rushed through your body and a loud scream left your mouth. Gojo kept going on and on, while you were riding your high out on his face.

A few moments later your breathing started to get more even and you cupped his face.

“Take off your pants. I want you to be inside of me!”

Satoru never in his life got out of his pants faster but your expression made him chuckle.

“Holy shit!” you gasped. “You are huge.” your eyes widened at the sight of his hard dick.

“Don’t worry baby.” he climbed between your legs, positioning himself to your entrance. “I’ll be gentle.” he carefully slid his throbbing shaft into you.

“Oh my God.” you panted as he kept sliding himself in inch by inch.

“Look at you, darling. You’re taking me so well.” he leaned in and kissed you. “Tell me when I can move, yeah?”

His muscled back felt so tempting under your hands as you nodded. “Just a second.” you tried to relax your body. This man was indeed massive. “Okay, you can move now.” you dug your fingers into his back.

Satoru put up a gentle pace, bucking his hips at a speed that drove you crazy. The way his dick was sliding in and out of your dripping wet pussy tested his own sanity as well.

“You’re so tight.” he buried his face in the crook of your neck.

Your hands wandered lower and lower on his back until you grabbed his rounded bum. “Faster. I need you to go faster. Please.” you begged and he obeyed right away. He started to pound into you with more and more intensity. Your walls clenched around him every time he hit your special spot.

“Darling.” he growled. “I’m not gonna last long if you suck me in like this.”

“I can’t help it, ‘Toru. It feels so good. You feel so good inside me.” you babbled in delirium.

Your words pushed him even closer to his limit and the second you screamed his name once again, reaching your high he wasn’t able to hold back anymore. “Baby, I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna…Ngh.” he pulled himself out quickly and shot his cream on your tummy. After he calmed down a bit he laid next to you.

“That was amazing.” he rested on his back, facing the ceiling.

“It indeed was.” you smiled and tried to get up. “I’ll be right back.” you headed to the bathroom to clean up yourself. Gojo appeared in the bathroom door, laying against the frame. “Can you help me with the shower?” He walked behind you, placed his hands on your shoulders and kissed your neck. “With all these stitches and bandages I’m not sure I could do it myself.”

“Sure, join me.” you giggled as you pulled the shower curtain aside.

***

After a second round in the shower you were completely exhausted and you assumed Satoru felt the same.

“We really should sleep and in the morning you will tell me what the heck is going on. Okay?” you climbed in the bed after changing the sheets.

“Alright, darling.”

His phone kept ringing which woke both of you up. A desperate growl left your body as you opened your eyes.

“Satoru, pick up your fucking phone, I’m begging you.” you whined.

He tapped the top of the nightstand next to him, eyes closed, when finally reached his mobile. “What?” he hissed. A few seconds later he almost jumped out of the bed. “WHAT?!” he yelled. “Bullshit!” he clenched his jaw. “No, I will handle it. Get your stuff and head to the mountains. Yes, all of you! Go!” he hung up.

“Should I ask?” you sat up, covering your bare chest with the sheet.

“A few weeks ago I turned down a nasty business.” he sighed, climbing behind you, so your back pressed against his chest as he kept talking. “Since then my whole business, my whole family is under attack. I thought after a few days they would stop but instead they are after everything I own in this town. Last night I got attacked while I was on my way home. They destroyed my house and now Geto called me with the news that all my businesses were either burnt to the ground or torn apart.”

“That sounds horrible.” you gasped. “So the casino was not your only interest in the city?”

“No, I had restaurants, shops and clubs as well.”

“Restaurants…” you hummed. “Like the one you took me to?”

“Yeah.” he nodded.

“Bastards…” you huffed. “It was such a beautiful place. I loved it!”

Gojo let out a bittersweet laugh before kissing your shoulder. “I need to leave, darling. You have to come with me.”

“What?” your eyes widened.

“You would be in danger here but I can protect you.”

“In danger? How? Why? We are not even a thing, why would I be in danger?”

“After last night we are definitely a thing. I told you, if you gave in you were going to be mine.” he smirked as he gently bit your earlobe.

“Yeah.” a soft moan left your mouth. “But they don’t know that.”

The handsome gangster got out of the bed and wanted to dress up when he realized his clothes were dirty and torn. He clicked his tongue and frowned.

“I can give you gray sweatpants and a white t-shirt if you want. I think it will fit you.”

“Thank you.”

As he was getting dressed he bit his inner cheek. “I assume these aren’t your clothes.”

“No.” you shrugged. “My ex left them here and I…well I should have gotten rid of them years ago.”

Satoru was about to crack an inappropriate joke about your ex and how he was going to fuck even his memory out of your pretty head when someone knocked on the front door. You snapped your head to the direction of the noise.

“Will your men pick you up?” you smiled as you started to walk towards the door. He took a quick peek through the window and noticed an unfamiliar, dark car in front of your home.

“Baby, stop!” he yelled and started to run after you, grabbing your wrist just in time and pulling you aside a second before someone emptied a whole clip into your door.

“What the fuck?” you screamed. Gojo covered you with his body until the shots died down.

“Come with me!” he demanded and dragged you into the bathroom. “Here. Take this.” he handed you a loaded gun. I’m going to lock this door, yeah? If anyone tries to break in, kill them. Understood?” he sounded dead serious.

“What?! NO!” you screamed. “It’s bullshit! I don’t even know how to use this freaking gun.” you started to cry.

“Shh…” he pulled you into his chest and hugged you tight. “It’s going to be okay, yeah? I will take care of this. I told you I was going to protect you, darling.” he placed a kiss on the top of your head.

“Be careful.” you whispered as he left the bathroom.

In the upcoming minutes you heard gunshots, yelling, screaming and you were sure your home was getting destroyed. After a while there was silence. The doorknob started to move left and right, your blood froze in your veins as you aimed the gun directly at the door.

“It’s safe now, baby.” Gojo’s weakened voice made you shiver.

“Satoru?” you shot the door open right away. And once again here he was, standing in front of you injured, bleeding.

“I…I need to patch you up again. I’m sure the wound on your shoulder opened up.” you frowned as you reached for his t-shirt and wanted to take it off.

“No.” he panted, gently grabbing your wrist. “There’s no time for this. We need to leave. It’s not over yet, more of them will come. We can’t stay here.” he pressed his right hand against his side. You were sure under the clothes he was covered in new cuts and bruises.

“Yuuta.” Gojo sighed. “I will text you the address. You need to come here and pick us up right now. They found me.” he hung up.

“Can I at least pack some clothes or something?”

“Just be quick, baby. Yuuta will be here in a few minutes.”

With a small luggage in your hand you stepped out of your bedroom and didn’t want to believe your eyes. Blood and at least five dead bodies were lying in the living room. All your furniture was either broken or shot into pieces.

“Please, don’t look.” Satoru took your luggage with one of his hands and grabbed your hand with the other one. “Come, Yuuta is outside.”

On your way to the safe house you kept silent. Gojo refused to let your hand go, he rubbed his thumb over your skin again and again and again. After an hour or so the car parked in front of a vintage styled wooden house. You helped Satoru to get out of the car and only after standing next to the vehicle did you notice the men waiting in front of the building.

You recognized the scary looking man who was called Geto. He was on the phone and well…his stare almost made you shit your pants. Not far from him stood a younger boy with funny, spiky hair. It seemed he talked to a ripped guy with a tiny scar across his lips and who looked just like him. There was another man with spiky hair and a weird face paint sitting close to scarface. The last guy with pinkish blonde hair and his hands in his pockets seemed the most normal from them all.

That was the moment you realized you were going to stay in a house with a yakuza and a part of his gang.

31 notes · View notes