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daisynik7 · 5 months

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Cure for a Hangover

Pairing: Kishibe x f!reader

Rating: Explicit – MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Word Count: ~3.9k

cw: next-door neighbor Kishibe, age gap (I’m thinking at least fifteen years, Kishibe pushing mid-forties, reader is in her late 20s/early 30s), alcohol consumption, p*rn no plot, smut – PIV sex (cowgirl), blowjob, vaginal fingering, cunnilingus, nipple play, pet names (sweetheart, angel, kiddo)

Summary: Kishibe is your mysterious, brooding, and significantly older next-door neighbor. You’ve lived beside him for a while now, only exchanging basic pleasantries out of politeness, never anything more. One night, he comes home drunk, or so he thinks. It’s not his door he’s slumped again; it’s yours.

Author’s Notes: It’s been a minute since I wrote for Kishibe and I really do miss it. This old man continues to do wonders to me, so I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. Thanks! MDNI divider credit to @/cafekitsune.

Taglist: @batafuraikisu @neverlandlostchild @bloompompom @dprkento @a-listaire @man-knees @demonwoman (bc Kishibe using kiddo as a pet name is living in my head rent free thanks to you)

part 3 of to all the boys who live next door anthology series

It’s not often that you’re met with a man slumped against your door, but here you are, staring down at your next-door neighbor, Kishibe, doing just that.

It’s past two in the morning now, and you’ve just come back from your own night out with your friends. You’re not nearly as drunk as you were three hours ago, after pounding glasses of Chardonnay while watching cheesy romance movies at your best friend’s apartment. And you’re certainly not as inebriated as the man before you, who absolutely reeks of liquor, even from a small distance away.

You inspect the scene thoroughly, unsure what to do in this scenario. Kishibe is basically a stranger to you. Sure, you’ve exchanged basic pleasantries here and there over that past year since you moved in. That’s as far as it goes. You have no idea what his profession is, though you have a solid guess as to what it could be, given his work attire and overall physique. While you’ve never run into one yourself, devils run rampart in Tokyo, hell-bent on causing chaos wherever they spawn. Kishibe looks like a Devil Hunter, whose job is to eliminate these monsters. It’s intriguing, that’s for sure, but you’ve never mustered the courage to ask him about it, leaving him to maintain his mysterious demeanor.

However, right now, you don’t see a Devil Hunter in front of you. Instead, it’s a simple man who is very drunk and very much in your way.

Deciding to help him, because that’s the only choice you have if you want to get into your apartment, you kneel down to search his overcoat, patting the breast pocket for keys. When you find nothing, you move to his pants, retrieving only his phone. His eyes are closed and he’s snoring, blissfully unaware of your predicament in his drunken stupor. You take this time to study his face. He’s looks much older up close; not only that, he’s even more handsome than you originally thought. There’s a prominent scar running from his mouth to his jaw, surely an interesting story behind it. You’re tempted to trace it delicately with your finger, but you ultimately resist the urge, snapping out of it to investigate his phone for any clues.

There are several missed calls and texts from a person named Kenji. You use the Face ID feature to unlock his phone, thanking the universe that even with his eyes shuts, it works. Not wanting to pry more than necessary, you check the most recent texts for the answer to your question: Where the hell are his keys?

Kenji: you left your keys at the bar, come back now. I’m closing up soon

Kenji: I’m not waiting for your ass

Kenji: I’m leaving, get them tomorrow

You read over the messages once more, groaning quietly to yourself at your dumb luck. Desperate now, you resort to the next logical step.

“Hey,” you say, tapping him lightly on the cheek, rousing him awake. “Kishibe.”

Slowly, but surely, he opens his eyes, half-lidded, struggling to focus on you. “Huh?” His breath is heavy with liquor, most likely whiskey. His voice is deep and gravelly, and you hate admitting that’s it’s almost sexy. Well, not almost. It is sexy.

Letting the inappropriate thought fade, you say, “You’re at the wrong apartment. This is mine.”

He blinks three times, opening his eyes properly to stare at you, expression confused. “Am I dead?”

You bite your lip, holding back laughter. “No, you’re not.”

“Am I in heaven?”

You shake your head, repeating, “No, you’re not.”

“Then why is there any angel here with me?” He sounds sincere, and you can’t help but break out into a genuine smile.

“I’m not an angel,” you reply, giggling.

His lips curve into a cocky grin. “You sure? You look like one to me.” Cheeky bastard, hitting on you while he’s plastered. And look at you, finding it endearing when he does.

Slightly more relaxed, you slide the phone into his breast pocket, standing up to unlock your door. You can’t just leave him out here all night, so you decide to let him stay with you until he’s sober enough to call a locksmith. You jiggle the keys, turning the knob to open the door, and suddenly, there’s a loud thud, and then a delayed, “Ow.” He’s laid flat in the middle of your doorway, hitting his head on the hardwood. You feel guilty, not having the foresight to see this coming. His body is much sturdier than you anticipated.

You kneel down, apologizing. “I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”

He winces, rubbing the back of his skull, then gives you a goofy smile. “I’ll be fine. Think I can get a kiss to make it feel better?”

You roll your eyes at him, once again unable to contain your laughter. “I’ll get you some ice. Let’s get you to the couch first, okay?”

Somehow, some way, whether it’s spurred by adrenaline or desperation to finally get some sleep in your own bed, you manage to haul him up by the armpits and drag him the short distance to your couch. You fluff a pillow and place it under his head, making it as comfortable as possible for him. “I’ll get the ice now.”

Before you can stand up, he grabs your wrist, gripping you tightly. “What about my kiss?”

“Nope. Not happening. I bet you don’t even know my name,” you challenge him.

He doesn’t respond, loosening his hold so you can get up. You fill a plastic bag with ice, returning to surround the back of his head with it. Eventually, he utters your name, eyes closed while he relaxes to your touch. He peeks at you with one eye open, waiting for you to confirm.

You nod, grinning. “So, you do know my name.”

“Can I get my kiss now?” he teases, gazing at you.

You shake your head. “Definitely not. I will not take advantage of a drunk person, that’s fucked up.”

He sighs, exhaling deeply, broad chest rising and falling. “Yeah, you’re right. I knew you were a good girl.”

You try not to hang on to those words, especially the last two, already fluttering below your belly over it. Grabbing his hand to replace yours, you instruct him to keep it there while you return to the kitchen to pour him a large glass of water. Within the short amount of time you’re gone, he falls asleep, his hand barely holding onto to the ice pack.

You smile to yourself, setting the glass of water down on the coffee table to continue attending to his minor injury. After a while, when you notice that there isn’t any bump or swelling developing, you stop icing him. He snores peacefully in a deep sleep, no sign of waking up anytime soon. As gingerly as you can, you remove his overcoat, draping it over the back of the couch. You set his phone next to the glass of water, for easy access. His tie looks tight around his collar, so you loosen it. Finally, you remove his shoes from his feet, laying them by the front door near your own pair. You’re certain he’ll wake up in the morning, feeling like shit, so you place a bottle of painkillers by his phone in case he needs them.

It's past three now by the time you’re dressed down in your pajamas and snuggled in bed. You keep the door ajar, listening to Kishibe’s steady breathing in the living room, treating it like white noise to help you fall fast asleep.

~~~

Kishibe wakes up with his head throbbing. He stares up at the ceiling, not recognizing it as his own. It doesn’t take long for him to realize that this isn’t his apartment.

He turns, seeing his phone, a glass of water, and a bottle of painkillers on the coffee table arm’s reach of him. Slowly, he sits up, grimacing from the pain, downing all the water in three large gulps. He checks his phone, thankfully still on its last leg of battery. It’s almost eleven on a Saturday morning and he’s sure Kenji, his bartender friend, is already awake, preparing for the day.

“Kenji,” he mutters, throat hoarse from last night’s festivities.

His friend first berates him for forgetting his keys, then laughs when Kishibe explains that somehow, some way, he managed to fall asleep on someone else’s couch. He could have woken up in worst conditions, that’s for sure.

Kenji agrees to stop by after running his errands, in about two hours or so. Beggars can’t be choosers, so Kishibe has no choice but to wait. When they’re phone conversation is over, he sinks back into the cushions, trying to piece everything together from just a few hours ago. He recalls snippets of it, and he grows increasingly embarrassed as the memories play vividly in his brain. He’s certain he called his neighbor an angel, and even more sure that he was begging her for a kiss. How shit-faced was he to compel him to do that? Obviously, very. How could he let his intrusive thoughts blurt out of his mouth like that?

Call it cliché or whatever, but yes, Kishibe is attracted his young, pretty neighbor next door. However, he’s held off on making a move because he doesn’t want to make things between them awkward. Once he crosses that line, their relationship gets more complicated. And the devil knows that Kishibe doesn’t do complicated. So, he’s content with gazing from afar, exchanging basic small talk with one another whenever they pass each other in the hallway. That’s as far as it’s gone with her, and that’s as far as it will go.

Of course, that’s all fucked up now thanks to his drunken antics from last night.

Before he can make his move, he hears a bedroom door creak open from behind him. She comes out, looking fresh out of the shower, dressed in skimpy pajama bottoms that are short enough to expose that tantalizing curve right below her ass. Surely, she’s doing this on purpose, right? She has to know how fucking sexy she looks right now, there’s no way she doesn’t.

He clears his throat, preparing to explain himself right off the bat to avoid an awkward confrontation. But he’s rendered momentarily speechless when she flashes a bright smile at him. “Morning, Kishibe.”

He huffs out a short laugh. “Morning.”

She steps towards him, sitting at the opposite end of the couch by his feet. Her shorts ride up and he’s sure he can see the lacey outline of her panties. Or maybe it’s just his perverse imagination, who knows at this point. “How are you feeling?” she asks, genuinely concerned.

He grunts. “Like shit,” he answers. “But it could be worse.”

“That’s the spirit,” she teases, patting his knee.

His head pounds from his hangover, though it’s his heartbeat that thumps loudly against his eardrums, aroused by her touch. He has got to control himself. Doing his best to distract her from the raging boner growing beneath his slacks, he asks, “What happened last night?”

She explains her account of the evening in detail, her voice soft and soothing, cautious of his current headache. She leaves out the parts where he embarrasses himself, which he’s grateful for, not wanting to relive the humiliation. When she’s done, she offers, “If you want, you can take a shower while you wait for your friend to arrive. I can get you some towels. I even have a toothbrush you can use.”

He raises a brow at her. “Are you trying to tell me I stink?”

“Do you need someone to tell you that you stink? I thought it was pretty obvious given the state you’re in,” she quips, matching his expression.

He laughs, genuinely amused by her response. “Yeah, can’t argue with that.”

She leads him into her bathroom, showing him how to work the knob for hot water, pointing out the shampoo, conditioner, and soap kept neatly on a corner shelf of her bathtub. She lingers for a bit while he starts the shower, then hands him a clean towel and new toothbrush. “Let me know if you need anything.”

Surprisingly, he makes it through his shower without succumbing to the temptation to touch himself. As degenerate as he can be, he still has some sense of respect and pride in him, enough to resist masturbating in his neighbor’s shower. He does, however, give her shampoo and conditioner bottles an extra-long sniff.

He dries off, scrubbing his hair with the towel, cleaning behind his ears with cotton swabs, checking his piercings. Towel wrapped around his waist, he brushes his teeth, making sure to go the full two minutes, scrubbing his tongue after. He hasn’t made the best impression so far, so he figures he should try to change that now, if there’s still a chance. Feeling fresh and clean, he stares down at his clothes in a pile on the floor. Even from where he stands, he can smell them, almost like they’ve been diluted in liquor and musk. Without thinking, he steps out of the bathroom, calling out her name. “Got any clothes I could borrow?”

She’s in the kitchen when he comes out, leaning over the stove as she cooks something that smells wonderful. She turns to face him, staring wide-eyed as he stands almost naked in the middle of her living room. Her gaze drifts down his bare body, lingering on his sculpted abs, then at the towel wrapped precariously around his waist. She snaps out of it in time, saying, “I don’t. Sorry.”

“My clothes fucking stink and I don’t want to wear them right now. Mind if I just walk around like this?”

“Sure. I mean, I don’t mind.” She focuses her attention back to the pan, continuing to cook what looks like scrambled eggs.

He knows this is a bizarre request, though this day couldn’t get any more bizarre than it already is, can it?

~~~

You’re not exactly sure how to refuse Kishibe’s request to walk around half naked in your apartment, so instead, you agree to it, claiming that you don’t mind. In actuality, you mind very much, simply because you can’t help but fantasize about the delicious sight beneath the towel. One wrong move like a bump to the hip is all it takes to see that pesky cover fall down. Geez, when did you become such a pervert? And for an old man?!

Desperate for a distraction, you maintain focus on the eggs in front of you. While he was in the shower, you decided to start breakfast, something hearty to combat that hangover of his. Scrambled eggs, toast, and sausage, comforting foods to soak up the remaining alcohol left in his body. He makes his way towards you, scooting a chair out from the table to take a seat. He strategically maneuvers himself to not accidentally expose you, though you really don’t mind if he does. Again, perverted thoughts, shame on you!

Finished cooking, you scoop the eggs out onto his plate and the other meant for you. He thanks you, taking a whiff of his breakfast, a small smile on his face. “Smells good.”

You pass him another glass of liquid, this one filled with an electrolyte drink meant for hydration after a night of drinking. “Drink this. It’ll help with your hangover.”

He eyes it suspiciously, then takes a gulp without questioning it further.

The two of you eat in a comfortable silence, ignoring the obvious tension hanging in the air. From your peripheral, you notice the glint of steel hooked to his ear lobe. Piercings, which you never noticed before. Sexy.

He ends up finishing his entire meal, popping a few painkillers to chase it all down. He even chugs the electrolyte drink, claiming it isn’t so bad. While you take the last few bites of your toast, he excuses himself to brush his teeth again. You’re surprised at how hygienic he is, considering how he appeared before you just mere hours ago, hunched against your front door covered in his own liquor-soaked sweat. You take the plates, stacking them in the sink to wash for later. How much longer is his friend going to take to arrive here? You’re getting nervous, thinking of other ways to fill this gap of time without making your attraction to him so obvious.

You sit on the couch, turning the TV on to a random sitcom with the volume low, listening to the rush of water from the faucet inside the bathroom. When it stops, you try to find a comfortable position to sit in. It’s only now that you realize how short your pajama bottoms are; they ride all the way up your thighs and you can practically see your underwear through them. It’s too late to change when Kishibe returns, still clad in just a towel, taking a seat on the other side of the couch a safe distance beside you. It’s silent for a brief moment, neither of you knowing what to say in this odd situation. You shift nervously, tugging at the hem of your shorts.

“Thank you,” he starts, avoiding your gaze, staring ahead at the television. “For taking care of me. Must have been annoying to deal with a drunken old man.”

You smile, relaxing. “It wasn’t so bad. Besides, I couldn’t just leave you out there like that. Someone could have taken advantage of you.”

“Like you almost did?” he smirks, facing you now.

Laughing, you meet his gaze. “You remember that?”

“I do.” He spreads his legs apart just barely, towel draped dangerously over his knee, almost ready to slip.

You swallow hard, avoiding a glance in that direction, heat surrounding your cheeks. “Well, I was a good girl, remember? I didn’t do anything.”

He hums, nodding slowly, eyes drilling into yours. “You were a very good girl.”

Your breath hitches and you find yourself gravitating towards him, scooting closer. He grins, the scar on his cheek curving with it, voice low and seductive. “You gonna be bad for me now?”

“Only if you want me to,” you purr, sliding your hand beneath the towel, up his thigh, arousal pooling between your legs. Fuck it. He wants it, you want it. There’s no denying it anymore.

“Fuck,” he swears under his breath, pulling you in for a kiss. His mouth is cool and minty against yours, the remnants of toothpaste lingering in his spit. You slurp it up, hungry for any taste of him. He removes the towel from his waist, shrugging it to the floor, leaving him completely naked. You glance at his lap and bite back a moan, amazed at how fucking big he is, way too eager to have him inside you, desperate to be filled to the brim.

“Not bad for an old man, huh?” he chuckles, wrapping his fist around the shaft, stroking it.

“Not bad at all,” you smile, stripping out of your clothes hastily, kneeling between his legs with your mouth open.

He feeds you his cock, humming when you surround him in your wet heat, swallowing him to the hilt. One hand grips the back of your head, guiding you gently up and down his shaft. “You’re filthy, taking your neighbor’s cock like this. Who knew you’d be such a slut?” he mutters, caressing the side of your face with his other hand. “Touch yourself while I fuck this filthy mouth. Get that pretty pussy wet for me.”

You obey, spurred on by his vulgarity, reaching for your arousal, rubbing your throbbing clit with fast fingers. His cock hits the back of your throat and you guzzle him down to resist gagging, drool leaking from the sides of your lips. He moans, bucking his hips slightly, enraptured by you. With his thumb, he brushes away a tear welling at the corner of your eye, pulling out halfway. “Don’t hurt yourself, kiddo. It’s okay if I’m too much for you.”

You release him completely, moving down to his balls, nuzzling your nose to them. “I can take it, don’t worry.”

He clicks his teeth, beckoning you on the couch, almost like you’re being scolded for something you weren’t supposed to do. You roll your eyes, sitting beside him begrudgingly. He leans close to you, hot on your ear, one hand sliding between your legs while the other continues to stroke his dick. “I want to touch you too. That okay?”

You whine in response, tugging him in for a passionate kiss. He massages deep circles around your clit, fingers squelching from your slick gathering along your entrance. “I want a taste,” he growls, splitting apart your thighs, staring at your glistening cunt.

You nod, sinking into the couch, relinquishing all control to him. You let your pleasured moans speak for you as he dives into your pussy, eating you out sloppily. His facial hair grazes against you with each careful stroke of his tongue and you ache to see his chin shiny with your cum. Eventually, he slips inside you, pumping two digits in and out, mouth still working your bud. Soon, it becomes too much and you’re gushing for him, whimpering his name with ragged breaths, soaking his face in your essence.

He chuckles, the vibrations resonating to your clit, causing you to twitch with overstimulation. “That’s my girl, making such a mess for me.”

“Fuck me, Kishibe,” you breathe out, craving to be stuffed full of him. You’re reeling from your high, and if he’s not inside you soon, you’re sure you’ll go insane.

He hoists you up onto his lap, precum oozing from the tip of his dick. “How about you fuck me? Show me how much of a slut you are.”

Too fucked out to argue, you lift up on your knees, position him to your wet hole, sinking down slowly. He slides in easily, pussy sleek from your previous orgasm. It’s better than you imagined, every inch of him stimulating every inch of you. You savor it, rocking against him slowly. He kisses along on your neck, trailing to your nipples to suckle on them. “That’s it, sweetheart,” he moans, thrusting up into you to match your rhythm. “Take this cock however you like. It’s all yours.”

You bounce on him faster, whimpering into his mouth as you kiss him. He palms your ass cheeks, squeezing them in his firm grip, delivering a few loud smacks that echo off the walls of your living room, stinging your skin. “Fuck, I knew you were a good girl. Knew it the moment I met you,” he growls, pressing his thumb to your swollen clit. “Always wanted you like this.”

You kiss him harder at his confession, your chest swelling, pussy fluttering. You’re approaching another climax, teetering on the edge. As if he senses it, he tightens his hold on you, fucking into you faster, deeper. “Come for me, angel. Come on this cock.”

And you do, clenching him with your orgasm, making him mutter, “Fuck, I’m coming. I’m coming with you.” He shoots his load inside you, filling you up, just like you wanted.

It takes a moment for the two of you to catch your breaths, relaxing into each other’s arms, exchanging soft kisses without speaking. You study his face again, similar to how you did just several hours before, when he was slumped against your door, drunk. You thought he was handsome then, even more so now. “How’s your hangover?” you ask, breaking the silence.

He smiles, nuzzling his nose to yours. “Much better.”

#kishibe #kishibe x reader #kishibe csm #kishibe smut #kishibe chainsaw man #kishibe x you #csm kishibe #chainsaw man smut #csm smut #to all the boys who live next door #anthology series

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gremlingottoosilly · 3 months

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The art of hospitality (Nanami Kento x fem!Reader)

Life wasn't that good after you dropped out of college. Luckily, a friend of a friend of a relative was willing to take you to live with him so you could watch over his weirdly big house while he was away on endless work trips. Nanami never thought that investment in the kindness of his heart would pay out like this. He is not complaining.

Tags and CW: Yandere, mild dub-con, non-consensual masturbation, Nanami is a panty stealer, light age difference, power imbalance, housewife kink AO3

Some people are just not built to fend for themselves. Nanami can name a few, even though the sentiment leaves a bitter, bun-haired taste in his mouth. He shouldn’t think like this – like him – but it’s as impossible as not thinking about a panda bear after you just been prompted with hot imagining one.

He can only repeat that he isn’t like this. It isn’t like him. Some people are just not built to fend for themselves, so people like Nanami are doing everything in their power to protect them. Weak are ruling the society and this is exactly how it is supposed to be. Strong should be content with not having any gratitude, happy that they were able to help. This is exactly how it’s supposed to be, and yet… — Thank you so much for letting me stay here, Nanami-san. With the lease and everything coming up, I just… His cheeks aren’t dusted red because this won’t be a normal answer to the situation. He isn’t blushing because he is somewhat not used to receiving a little thank you from a nice girl next door that he allowed to live with him and watch over the house while he is away on the missions(dumb, dumb girl got kicked out of the apartment after a failed lease renewal and found him through a friend of a relative). He knows how grateful you are – not having many things or a lot of money saved, you probably would have moved back to the countryside if it weren’t for him. For a girl like you, it would be kissing your dreams goodbye. Not like sleeping on his couch is any better for someone your age. There is curry on the kitchen island. He recognises the packaging – generic brand from the convenience store he sometimes walked passed during missions in Asakusa. Hm. Last time he touched your cooking(four days before, when he actually managed to drag himself to the house without losing too much sweat) it was made from scratch. He isn’t complaining because he still wasn’t the one to cook it. Asking a girl in dire circumstances to play housewife would be… You don’t pay rent, you get half of the groceries from him(ever-lasting meal planning for everything, even when half of it gets thrown away after a nasty curse hunt is leaves him on the other side of the prefecture for few days in the row) and you don’t sleep on the couch. He has a perfectly comfortable guest bedroom with fresh sheets for you.

Maybe, you could play housewife a little bit. It’s so stupid for someone in his position, but the packaging of a store-made curry almost made him question the decision to help you in the first place. He didn’t…didn’t expect you to cook for him, of course. He only took you in because being a young adult is tough and not having any friends in a city as expensive as Tokyo can crush a girl like you. He doesn’t know what is this feeling blooming in his chest. Maybe, the remains of the last exorcism are still clinging to him. — You found a job? You tilt your head, your (adorable) lips in a surprised impression. You probably never thought he’d give someone like you this much of his mind – not with how little you talked before. He might come off as too harsh – but he still looks you in the eyes, his gaze only softens because of the glasses he still insists on wearing even inside the house. Nanami promised to himself to not bring work home – but it’s hard to even determine what is home anymore. Maybe it’s a space on the couch, right next to your sprawled legs. Maybe it’s his bedroom. Maybe it’s… — Yes! It’s a convenience store, so it’s part-time, but… He frowns. You close your mouth immediately, lips pursed. Nanami doesn’t want to intimidate you – it’s just six thirty, already too late to be in a serious work mood – but it’s hard when you look simply divine with that scared impression of yours. He shouldn’t bully non-sorcerers, but some people are making it hard. Impossible. He almost understands Satoru. — This is all? — Well, they allowed me to pick more shifts, so I could actually start paying rent. N…not all, but just to thank you for letting me stay with you. You’re kind, he must give you that. Most people in your situation would already make him feel like overstaying their welcome, breaking the simple comfort he found in living on his own, and deflecting his family’s worries about not having anyone to settle down with. He isn’t thirty yet, he shouldn’t worry about it – yet, the thought itches at the back of his mind, Empty house. Most of his older coworkers were itching to ditch overtime because they wanted to meet with their families. He did it because after fighting curses(and returning to doing so) normal human life isn’t something he’d give much thought to.

— You don’t have to pay. I thought we established that. — I have to start somewhere, right? M…maybe I could save up and get a proper apartment. Still, Kento doesn’t like the idea that he might come home one day and won’t find you sitting on the couch and watching TV. Not because you just went out for a quick girl walk, or decided to go shopping – but because you got a big job, a normal job, and you won’t rely on his kindness anymore.

Some people aren’t made to fend for themselves. Nanami wonders what would you look like if you ever saw a curse. If you were affected by at least one. He…he shouldn’t think like this. You’re lucky that you’re normal. — Paying for three months' rent, the key, and the debt would be impossible with a part-time store job. — I could live with a roommate! Or three… — What difference would it make for our current situation? He puts a hand on the back of the couch. Mere inches from your head – and he can see the surprised expression on your face only getting…more surprised. You are cute for a dropout – ahe he certainly doesn’t mind having you sleeping here. Taking care of the house for him. If he only knew that you also weren’t fully against the proper commitment to this place. Like that little job of yours has any value in terms of experience and…

— I don’t want to intrude too much, Nanami-san. I’ll just get out of your hair as soon as possible, yeah? He would love for you to get into his hair, come to think about it. He had some terrible headaches lately – maybe it’s the job taking its toll again, maybe it’s a lingering curse that he is too exhausted to notice. He doesn’t sense anything besides the overwhelming need for you to come around – and yet he knows he can’t expect you to do that. — I can pay you.

— What? He wonders if the surprise on your face is going to be embedded in your features forever. He wonders what expression would you have if he’d proposed something more provocative. With something that would leave you panting and gasping and gaping. He shook his head. Too early for this – and too late, also. He already loosened his tie and it made the headache less permanent, but if he’d proceeded to imagine how your pathetic, useless (normal, college dropout) mouth wide around the base of his cock, he would have to excuse himself from the house altogether, Preferably moving back to the countryside you tried to run away from. — If you insist on working…there instead of taking time to actually improve yourself, I could pay you to watch over the house. You gulp, tensing up immediately. He must have come off too strong – but he is way too tired to control his tone, and you should be mature enough to handle the conversations like this. He wasn’t kicking you off – quite the contrary, in fact. But, young adults should take the time to be young. But, young adults should be serious enough to behave like adults – and you shouldn’t bury your ambitions while living with four roommates and their boyfriends and college and drinking and… Sometimes he forgets how not much older he is than you. Maybe this is why you’re so hesitant towards getting help from him – someone that you could imagine in the position of a boyfriend instead of a providing and caring figure. That’s bad, really. Nanami would like for you to see him as your husband. — I couldn’t accept it, Nanami-san. You’re already…already doing so much. “Too much” he can get from your frowned expression. Too much of a lonely man with a big house and no one to watch over it. Too much for a man who doesn’t acept any form of payment from you – a man who didn’t even insist on having you cook and clean, since he got a system that would be too much bother to teach someone other than him. System that you cracked in first few weeks, almost making him believe that the salryman dream he lost after returning to Jujutsu Tech, can be still obtained. Still within the reach of his fingers.

The woman of his dreams – if a man like him allowed to have them – is sitting on his couch and gushes over paying him for letting her stay. Like he isn’t the one who should beg for her to not run away. Alas, even dream girls can be a bit…dumb. Stupid. Pathetic in a way that would be insane to anyone else.

Nanami is ought to be a bit more firm with his dumb girl that still thinks she isn’t his. — I would appreciate you cooking way more than any money I’d have to take out of your savings. — But… — You shouldn’t rush into jobs just because you think I would throw you out. I won’t. — It’s…funny. In a way.

— What is so funny? His hand creeps over the edge of your seat, edging on taking a handful of your hair and tugging. Not because he wanted to hurt you – but because setting you in place would be the desirable option right now. Your inability to believe in the kindness of his heart is almost adorable, if it weren’t also so frustrating. It’s a smart choice, although – would be insane to ask you to believe that a man who took you in did so out of the kindness of his heart. But, Kento doesn’t want for you to be smart and make choices that would benefit you. But, Kento wants for you to rely on him – and making smart choices isn’t going to include that. He could just force you, your weak points already accessed – he knows where to push, where to cut, where to ass a little pressure, so you’d stop being so stubborn. He doesn’t want to hurt you, but sometimes you need to crack a few eggs in the process. Sometimes being good doesn’t mean being nice. — I thought you really wanted to get rid of me at first, Nanami-san. He has been stealing your panties since you first stepped foot into his house. It was a mistake at first – neither you nor him knew how to live with someone so close after reaching adulthood and moving out of dorms where the social boundaries are much, much less permanent. You were silly and forgetful, sometimes mixing your laundry with his. Something as small as a pair of panties, no matter clean or not, were prone to get lost in the laundry area, forgotten in a pile of clothes you already washed – and if Nanami was a lesser man, he would have scolded you for not having the basic courtesy of keeping your things away from his. If Nanami was a bigger man he wouldn’t have slipped a lacey pair into a pocket of his pants, fidgeting on the fabric while you gushed over having to buy so many necessities all of a sudden, or apologized for wrecking havoc in his bathroom. Even now, when you’re embarrassed and warm, trying to explain your point of view to him, he is still playing with your underwear, buried deep within the pocket of his work clothes. He luckily didn’t run into Satoru today – he doesn’t really want to know if his Six Eyes could detect something as scandalous. Not in a normal sense, of course – you’re an adult, if a bit irresponsible – but in the form of him having connections. Someone to return to.

Nanami wants to push you on your knees and take his rent right out of that surprised, open mouth of yours. You don’t wear any makeup, you’re at home, after all – but he would buy you some adorable lipstick, some sweet lipgloss, just so you could smear it all over his cock, choking and drooling. He wants to be a good man, a patient man, but he has your panties in his pocket already, and it’s always a fresh pair every few weeks – not enough to make you suspicious that this isn’t the washing machine eating it, but also desperately low for someone like him.

He wonders if you would be even softer than the tender silk of the things you wear. — Why would you think I accepted you, then?

He knows why you might be nervous – his attitude isn’t the most welcoming one. He can be soft if he has a reason you – but being soft for too long will make you spoiled. Bratty. He likes women with character, but not women with attitudes he can’t control. Even your sitting position, with both of your legs on a couch, is something he could change with a few spanks on the bare skin he can clearly see from under your shorts. Wearing this when there is a man in the house – how scandalous. How precious. He wonders if all the lingerie sets he already bought for you (getting exact sizes is quite easy when he already knows your proportions divided by 7), will be a nice look on you. For you.

— Maybe it was your one good deed for the month, but then you’d get annoyed and… He touches you – for the first time in weeks. Maybe the first time since he shook your hand all those time ago. The first time he touched you while you weren’t sleeping, at least. Fully conscious, aware of the man in front of you. (Nanami liked to watch you sleep, sometimes. Stressed people have a bad habit of attracting curses, and he wanted to make sure you wouldn’t invite anything in the safety of his house. It’s what he keeps telling himself when he inevitably ended up at the food of your bed, hands on his cock, stroking it slowly, knowing a dumb girl – naive girl – won’t wake up even if he’d decide to finish on your face. He never would – not until you’d ask him to, at least. He hopes that he will be a good person even after you do) Nanami’s hand is on your cheek, holding you softly. Gently. You’re surprised because this is the first time he touched you so softly – so intimately. You’re blissfully unaware of the fact he was touching you so, so much already. Stroking your ass, your tits, your face when he felt particularly tender – when he knew you were too tired of whatever you were doing while being unemployed and having everything catered to you to notice that he is touching you. — I won’t get annoyed with you.

You press your face against his hand, taking in his touch. He has soft hands – cared for, manicured carefully. He takes care of his appearance and you’re embarrassed to appreciate that about it. To even notice – he isn’t yours, probably doesn’t want to be, but he allows you to live in his house even though you suck at being a proper housewife, and it should mean something. It does mean something – you smile and close your eyes. You want to do something for him because he already did so much for you. The possibilities are making your ears burn. — How can I repay you if you don’t want rent then? He can think of a few ways. The possibilities will make your ears burn. — You can start by actually cooking.

And he will call in to fire you later.

#yandere #yandere x you #yandere x reader #yandere nanami #nanami x reader #nanami x you #nanami kento #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk smut #yandere jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk nanami #nanami smut

607 notes · View notes

tojisblade · 4 months

Text

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ 𝐁𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐌𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐍𝐄

— 𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈 𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎

synopsis: after your divorce, you kept quiet and to yourself as you took a break to recover from everything. you ended up meeting fushiguro toji, who ended up asking you out and delivering the 'best possible medicine to heartbreak' as your best friend had recommended. getting fucked with no strings attached.

wc: 2.7k

cw: unprotected sex, fem!reader, pet names (good girl, baby, sweetheart), oral, overstimulation, toji is FERAL, cliffhanger at the end, part two will follow with some angst and more :3

this is not proofread.

likes and reblogs, as well as feedback is very much appreciated!

“you know what?”, your best friend, hana, suddenly said, gulping down the wine she had just sipped. “you really have to get fucked.”

you choked on your own wine, spluttering in shock as you stared at her. “what the fuck, hana?!”, you giggled, shaking your head. “no, i do not.”

“fuck, yes you do. come on, babe, you’ve separated from your ex-husband weeks ago. it’s time for you to get fucked again, like… just raw, meaningless sex. no strings attached. that’s everything. believe me, that’s the best medicine”, hana giggled, drinking her glass empty and filling it up again, clearly tipsy already.

“i totally disagree. i’m… okay.”

“no, baby, you’re not. you’re not and it’s too obvious. you don’t take care of yourself anymore. i’m absolutely worried about you. but i know that this is just temporary and you will get yourself together again. i just worry that you won’t be able to do so without forgetting about the separation. and honestly? the best medicine to get that crap out of your head is by getting fucking drunk and get into it with somebody.”

you sighed, still shaking your head in disbelief that this conversation actually happened.

—

the headache you woke up with the next morning was something you were used to from the past few weeks – getting drunk to the point you were throwing up almost every single day. this only started after your husband – well, ex-husband now – asked for separation and divorce, after you had become so distant to him because of your research and work.

it had been weeks on weeks where you wouldn’t even spare a glance at him, exchanged barely a word with him. of course, he would get sick and tired of this.

it was too late when you realized your mistake and finally snapped out of it. that day was the same one he had asked for a divorce.

luckily, it was a quick and easy case – you both had quickly agreed on your assets. you didn’t want anything, just enough of your shared savings that you could afford a new apartment to rent.

it was yet another lonely evening in a shabby bar in tokyo, you were drinking some lightly alcoholic beverage just because you didn’t want to get totally drunk again.

“what is a gorgeous woman like you doing in this shabby ass place, sweetheart?”, the bartender asked – a very tall and muscular man, smirking at you. you lean your head to the side, noticing a tiny scar on his lip’s right side.

“what is a handsome man like you working at a shabby bar like this?”, you encountered, chuckling. “can you give me some alcohol-free cocktail? i don’t… want to get drunk tonight.”

“well, coming to a bar in general was the wrong idea then, sweetie.”

“i’m fully aware”, you laughed, shaking your head. “i just needed to get out of my home for a night.”

“well, no matter what got you here, you’re very welcome and here is your drink.” as you reached for your purse, he shook his head, refusing the pay for the drink. “no, no, this one’s on me, yeah? enjoy, sweetheart.”

“thanks, uhh... what’s your name?”, you asked, giggling as you sipped the cocktail. “it’s toji. fushiguro toji”, he introduced himself, smirking confidently and you couldn’t help but think about how fucking hot that man was and the words of hana struck back into your head.

maybe she was right. it had been weeks and you were nothing but a total mess, thinking about your past life with your ex-husband every minute of every single day.

“nice to meet you, toji. i’m y/n”, you introduced yourself with the first genuine smile in weeks on your lips.

“oh! aren’t you that news reporter? you do those real cool investigations on undiscussed topics, don’t you?!”, he asked, eyes widening. “i didn’t recognize you at first, sorry about that!”

“ah, no worries. i have been on a break for the past three weeks, so…”, you trailed off. “i.. guess i haven’t really been working on anything much.”

“ah, we all have those times. want to talk it out? sometimes emptying out your heart to some stranger can help”, toji chuckled as he wiped off some of the glasses, drying them off to place them back on the counter.

“is that really a thing?”, you retorted, laughing with him. “i never believed in that, to be honest. my best friend suggested i needed to get fucked, like, she described it as ‘raw, meaningless and no-strings-attached sex’. maybe that’s what i really need, huh?”

perhaps you were already tipsy from your previous alcoholic drink, but didn’t realize it. because sane-you would never have blurted this out to a total stranger.

even toji seemed to be caught totally off-guard by this. his eyes widened before he chuckled. “i thought you were married?”, he asked then, a little bit shy about knowing that fact. “at least… that is what i remembered from when i looked you up once after i watched some of your reports..”

“ah, no… well, i was. not anymore. that is why i’m here at this ‘shabby ass bar’”, you laughed, but it was a heartless laugh this time. “we got divorced. that’s why i haven’t been back to reporting yet. we finalized the divorce three weeks ago and then i asked my boss for a month long absence. i’m supposed to be back in a week and i’m still not prepared mentally for coming back.”

“and that’s okay, sweetheart. you can’t set a specific timeframe to get over something so major happening in your life. how long were you married?”

“five years. we married young. we were both… 21? something around that. yeah. high school sweethearts, you know? we got together when we were 17, so”, you replied, smiling softly. “we didn’t have much back then, so we only had a small little thing between us both in some tiny venue. just me, him and two of our closest friends. never even got to do a proper ceremony after we build our lives to our likings.”

“see, that’s been what, nine, almost ten years? you almost spent ten years with one person and you expect yourself to forget about that in, what? twenty eight days? come on, that’s impossible.”

“to be fair… i grew so much more distant from him ages ago. i just didn’t want to admit it.”

“and still, the divorce that finalized it all only happened recently. it reminded you of your mistakes during the last moments of your relationship. no matter how long ago you started growing distant to him, the last moments are the most crucial ones.”

“you know, you’re insanely insightful for a bartender in this shabby ass bar”, you giggled, shaking your head.

“well, you’re surprisingly not the only freshly single person in front of me. though, you’re the most beautiful one of them, sweetheart”, toji mumbled, smiling softly. “and definitely the only one i’ve ever felt so attracted to.”

that statement made your cheek heat up. you were always told that you were very stunning, but hearing it from someone other than your ex-husband had you slightly embarrassed.

“thank you”, you mumbled, drinking your beverage to stop yourself from saying something more embarrassing.

“hey, can i… have your number? i’d love to see you again someday”, toji then blurted out, chuckling softly at his own sudden move. “you’re pretty cool.”

you couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head in amusement. “sure.”

—

toji and you had your first official date just a week later, the same evening you had your first day back at work after your month-long break.

“listen, uhm… i don’t mean to burst your bubble or something but me agreeing to this date wasn’t me trying to get your hopes up. i still need my time to adjust being a single woman after years of being with one single person and i hope you understand that”, you said, a sad smile on your lips. “you’re a really great man and all but i’m not ready for a relationship.”

“i know that. don’t worry, sweetcheeks”, he chuckled, softly caressing your cheek with his thumb. “i asked you out because i wanted to get to know you more. mayhaps, one day you’ll sit in front of me and be happy to say yes to being my girlfriend but i know that day won’t be happening anytime soon. and i’m perfectly fine with that.”

you giggled, raising your first glass of wine in a week and a little clinking sound echoed in your ears when his encountered yours.

the night was filled with laughter and genuine smiles. you were amazed at how much you loved being with toji, not expecting to feel this comfortable with anyone else after the divorce finalized.

“thank you, toji. for this amazing night”, you hugged him goodbye after he had walked you home, his big arms engulfing your body fully and you felt so comforted in his grasp.

“of course, sweetcheeks. you’re very welcome”, he mumbled, planting a gentle kiss on your head. “you were amazing tonight, by the way. i mean… on tv.”

“you watched?”, you asked, looking away shyly.

“of course, i did. i watched you every single night up until your break. you amazed me on screen and then tonight again when you gave me the chance to get to know the real you.”

his gaze was lidded as he glanced down on your lips for a moment and back to your eyes, his one arm wrapped around your waist as his other hand was on your cheek again. “you’re so beautiful, sweetheart. had me glued to my screen every single night as i watched you, listened to you and actually cared about what crap was happening around the world.”

he was so close that you felt his breath on your lips, your breathing slowly getting shaky and you couldn’t help it anymore – you just had to do it. you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him into a kiss, the tension had you in shivers as you felt his other arm hold you tightly against his massive body.

after that, everything was happening very fast. he let go of the kiss for a moment, asking you if you were sure about all this and let you get your house’s keys out so that he could lift you up easily, your legs wrapped around his waist, as he carried you towards the bedroom.

“where is it, sweetheart?”, he asked, the smirk on his lips was so addicting to see that you were distracted for a second. toji playfully smacked your ass as you didn’t reply, getting you out of your trance-like stance.

“over there”, you pointed at the door, as he carried you over, planting soft and gentle kisses over your neck and collarbones, before you were thrown onto your bed, giggling softly.

“what a fancy bedroom you got here, sweetcheeks”, toji chuckled, noticing the remote control for the lights in the room. he pressed on the red-colored button, turning on the red lights, making you laugh at the cliché type of mood he was setting.

“much better, huh?”

this whole thing didn’t feel like a one-night-stand. it felt like a romantic moment between two lovers and you liked this feeling a lot. there were lots of kisses and gentle caressing before toji got too impatient and finally ripped off your lacy panties, lifting your hips with his big hands on your hips and latched his lips against your clit, having you moan out in surprise and pleasure rushing through your body.

“t-toji!”, you exclaimed, eyes rolling back as he ate you out like his whole life depended on this, like he would die if he didn’t make you cum on his mouth and drink up every last drop. “ah, fuck, so good.”

“taste so fucking good. how could you deprive me of this for an entire week, sweetheart?”, he groaned, he was so far gone with his mind, the only thoughts in his head were about how fucking sweet you tasted and how good he was going to fuck that sweet cunt of yours.

“fuck, please”, you whined, “don’t tease me.”

“but sweetheart, it’s so fun to tease you”, he chuckled. before you could say or do anything else, he had buried his head between your thighs once more, distracting you from what you were going to say in the first place.

it wasn’t long until he had you trembling, crying out his name as nothing but pure pleasure coursed through your body that your hands clutching into his hair.

“need your cock”, you whined, trying to get his pants off his body, eyes widening as you saw his bulge through the boxers. “o-oh.”

he chuckled, biting his lip as he slowly and teasingly removed the fabric from his body and you gulped as you saw his size. “like what you see, baby?”, he laughed lightly, slowly kissing his way back up to your face. “don’t worry, i’ll be careful.”

as he aligned his tip with your entrance, he slowly lifted your legs, wrapping them around his waist and finally thrusted his cock inside, your eyes widening at his girth practically splitting you open. he groaned out, face buried against your neck as he praised you for how good you were taking his cock.

“fuck, baby, you’re taking my cock so good”, he’d grunt out repeatedly, his tip easily hitting your sweet spot with every thrust, having you arch your back so prettily for him and your eyes fluttering shut in pleasure.

“t-toji”, you cried out, nails digging into his back as you tried to pull his head closer to yours, wanting to kiss him so badly because you needed the distraction from how good he was fucking you.

“deprived me and yourself from this pleasure for an entire week?”, toji groaned, his eyes were focused on where you both connected, smirking as he noticed a little creamy ring forming around his cock. he was in nothing but pure bliss. “stupid, so fucking stupid, but the wait was so worth it.”

“yes, fuck, it wa–”

you stopped talking as a sudden and pretty intense rush of pleasure washed through your body, making you forget whatever you were saying as you were clinging at toji once more so tightly he let out a groan.

“fuck, you’re so beautiful when you come for me, baby. gonna make you feel like you’re in heaven all night long, hm? how does that sound?”

you could only nod, all sense and logic had left your mind, except for the one thing your best friend had said.

“it’s time for you to get fucked again, like… just raw, meaningless sex. no strings attached. that’s everything. believe me, that’s the best medicine.”

well, fuck, she was totally right.

—

toji fucked you all over your place.

the bed wasn’t enough for someone of his patience and experience – he had expressed his urge to bend you over the counter once you both had been to worn out for another round and decided that you both got too snacky. just as you were eating some light food after all that, you in his shirt, sitting on the counter and him just in his boxers between your legs as he fed you some strawberries, before he leaned down to your ear, whispering what other nasty things he’d love to do to you.

it wasn’t long until you were bent over the counter, his cock buried back inside as he fucked you like nobody ever had – not that you had ever anything with anyone else except with your ex-husband.

and this was nothing like the soft, vanilla times you had with him.

toji fucked hard. he was unrelenting, patient to tease you and most importantly: he switched up things enough but not too much to keep things interesting.

just as he once again buried his seed deep inside of you and you were about to clean up the mess you had made with your snacking, your door bell ringed.

your eyes widened – it was the middle of the night, who the hell would come see you at this time of hour?

“expecting someone?”, toji asked.

you could only shake your head and reply with a “nope. no one.”

you quickly went to grab your panties and buttoned up toji’s shirt which was long enough to cover the entirety of your thighs and you finally opened up the door, toji shortly following you.

“nanami? what the hell are you doing here?”, you asked, as your ex-husband was staring at you and then at toji.

READ PART TWO HERE.

#♡ // toji #♡ // aly writes #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #jjk fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #toji fushiguro #toji smut #toji x reader #toji x you #jjk toji

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yuta-nation · 5 months

Text

Light Shower (Yuta Okkotsu)

summary: your big brother butts into your sex life, and you both get more than you bargained for.

content: dead dove (do not eat), incest/stepcest (left unclear), big bro!yuta, afab fem!reader (no pronouns but referred to as girl, sister, ect.), inexperienced!reader, oral (m -> f), protected p -> v, squirting, fingering, possessive!yuta, pillow princess!reader, mentions of alcohol but reader is not drunk.

wc: 3.8k

a/n: HEED THE CONTENT WARNINGS !! I HAVE MADE SHIT SO FUCKING CLEAR !!! anyways, i've been working on this fic for months, and i'm so happy it's finally done ! this whole thing is dedicated to @princess-okkotsu for being nasty with me and lovely to me.

You had many reasons for moving in with your older brother for your last year of undergrad. You and Yuta hadn’t lived together since he was 16 and you were 13, separated for reasons you still didn’t understand. The only time he’d visited you and your parents after he moved out had been for your high school graduation. You’d missed him a lot, but you kept in close contact online and over the phone, texting constantly and calling a few times a week with video calls sprinkled in. Despite the physical distance, your brother had become your best friend. When you told him you were planning to attend university in Tokyo, he was elated, talking about how he couldn’t wait to show you around and how excited he was to see you more often. He had kept his word, taking you all around the city during your first few weeks in Tokyo, handing you a key to his apartment, and telling you you were welcome over any time, even if he wasn’t home. He took you out to breakfast every Sunday morning and invited you over to watch movies every Wednesday evening. Your relationship thrived with the new proximity.

Moving in with your brother would allow you to connect as siblings in a way you missed out on growing up. Yuta also lived closer to campus than you did, meaning you wouldn’t have to take the train. You liked your current roommates well enough, but they always had people over when you were studying and rarely cleaned their messes in the kitchen. Yuta was tidy and quiet. And finally, you were broke. Undergrad was expensive, the city was expensive, and grad school wouldn’t be cheap either. Yuta was willing to let you move in rent-free, declining your offer to at least pay utilities.

“I don’t need my baby sister’s money,” he’d said with a smile and finality that shut down any argument you tried to conjure.

You’d accepted the offer and moved in about a month ago. Living with Yuta was as easy as breathing. He was a courteous and generous roommate. He did his share of the chores and often offered to help you with your own. He brought you coffee and snacks while you studied. He carried the bags when the two of you went grocery shopping.

And he was fun. Almost every moment the two of you spent together was full of laughter. You and Yuta cooked dinner together every night you were both home, talking and joking about your days. You weren’t sure what Yuta did for work; he’d always been vague, but you figured it had something to do with the government. But you enjoyed his stories about his coworkers and their antics. And Yuta seemed just as invested in your stories about your friends and daily life. He asked questions and remembered names and offered advice.

The only thing you didn’t feel comfortable talking with your big brother about was your love life. Talking to Yuta about guys just felt like crossing an unspoken line. It’s not like much was going on in that aspect of your life anyway; you were too busy with school to seek out new people. Once in a while, one of your friends would set you up on a date with someone. You didn’t mind their meddling; you knew it came from a good place, and they were good judges of character. However, you had yet to hit it off with any of these match-ups. There just wasn’t that spark. So when your friend told you she’d met someone in her Econ class that would be perfect for you, you were a mix of skeptical and excited. After some persuading, you agreed to go out with Mr. Econ.

Now you stood in the entryway, checking yourself in the mirror a final time and looking through your purse to check that you had everything.

“Oh, are you going somewhere? I thought we were watching a movie tonight?” You turned to see your brother putting dishes in the sink.

“Oh, Yu, I’m so sorry. I totally forgot. I have a date tonight, so–”

“A date?” Yuta turned to face you with a raised brow, crossing his arms over his broad chest.

“Yeah, my friend set me up with a guy from her class. We’re going for drinks.”

“You’re meeting a man you’ve never met for drinks? And you didn’t think to tell me?”

“Yuta, please don’t pull the big brother act. I’m an ad–”

“It’s no act. I am your brother. It’s my job to look out for you.”

“My location is on. I’ll text you when I get there and am on my way home. Deal?”

“No.”

“What do you mean no? Yuta, you can’t ju–”

“I require a hug before I let you leave,” he said simply as a boyish grin spread over his lips. You fought your own smile as you walked into his open arms. You sighed as you felt his strong arms squeeze you tight.

“Be safe. Call me if you need me to come get you, yeah?” Yuta whispered in your ear, swaying you a bit as he spoke.

“I will, I promise,” you said as you detangled yourself from his arms. You returned your focus to the mirror, straightening your top before grabbing your keys.

“Wait. Do you need a condom?”

“W-what?”

“A condom. Let me go grab you one–”

“No!”

“What do you mean no? You can’t–”

“No–I mean, I already have some. Yuta, never say that word again,” you said as fire burned in your cheeks and ears.

“Condom.”

“I’m leaving.”

“I love you,” he called when you opened the door.

“Love you too.”

You were back home in a little over an hour. You couldn’t hold back your sigh as you reentered the apartment and removed your shoes. You didn’t hear the TV in the living room; Yuta must’ve forgone watching the movie by himself and went to his room. You felt a pang of guilt at that. You should’ve stayed home and watched a movie with your big brother instead of going out with an idiot business major who just wanted to fuck. You walked over to Yuta’s bedroom door and knocked.

“Yu, just letting you know I’m home,” you called out. You heard shuffling on the other side of the door, opening a few seconds later to reveal your shirtless brother. His brow was furrowed in concern as he looked down at you.

“You said you’d text when you were on your way back. It’s still early. Did something happen?”

“No, he was just an ass. I’m going to go take my make-up off. We can still watch that movie if you want.”

“What’d he do?” Yuta asked with a hardness in his voice that you’d never heard before. You turned to face him and were met with dark blue eyes boiling with fury. You were grateful to know that his rage wasn’t directed at you; the look on his face was bone-chilling.

“Nothing, we just had different definitions of the term ‘date.’”

“What does that mean?”

“He just wanted to fuck. I didn’t, so I left.”

“Oh, thank God. I don’t like the idea of you having sex,” he said with a relieved sigh.

“I’m a fucking adult, Yuta. I can have sex if I want to. Though lucky for you, sex sucks,” you said hotly, turning on your heel to leave. You loved him, but Yuta had a way of getting under your skin. Your retreat was halted by his hand grabbing yours. You turned to face him; a look of confusion splayed across his features again.

“Now, what do you mean by that?”

“Yu, I really don’t want to discuss my sex life with you. I’d actually rather die.”

“Hey, you can’t just drop that tidbit and not elaborate,” he said, maintaining his firm grip on your hand.

“Yuta…”

“I’m not going to judge you. You can tell me about anything, you know that,” Yuta said with soft eyes. He tugged lightly on your hand, guiding you into his room. He gestured for you to sit on the bed while he sat in his desk chair. You sat down, suddenly finding Yuta’s spotless bedroom floor captivating.

“What’s so bad about sex?” he asked gently. You knew that if you looked at him, he’d be making those puppy dog eyes that always had you spilling your guts to him.

“Me. I’m not good at it, so I don’t like it.”

“Not good?”

“I’ve never…y’know.”

“Never what?”

“I’ve never finished, okay?”

“You’ve never cum before?”

“I do when I’m by myself. I just can’t with other people for some reason. I’m fucking broken. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna go die in a hole.”

“Do not be embarrassed,” Yuta said firmly as he stood and crossed the room to kneel before you. He took your chin in his hand and guided you to look him in the eye.

“You are not broken. There’s nothing wrong with you. It’s not your fault if you’ve only been with partners who don’t know how to satisfy you.”

Something in Yuta’s reassuring tone forced the damn to break. Tears spilled from your eyes as you fought back the lump in your throat. A sob racked your body as Yuta joined you on the bed and wrapped you in his arms before he lifted you into his lap. He rubbed slow circles on your back as you cried and placed a kiss on your hair.

After a few minutes, your tears subsided enough for you to speak.

“I’m sorry, Yuta, this isn’t your problem,”

“Don’t be sorry, sweetie. You’re hurting, and that is my problem.”

“There’s nothing you can do about it, though.”

“Who said that?”

“What?” you asked, raising your head to look at your brother.

“I can help you.”

“How?”

“I can make you cum.” Yuta said with the same smile and finality he had when he convinced you to move in with him.

“No, you can’t. You’re my brother, Yuta.”

“And it’s my job as your brother to take care of you. Let me help you. Let me show you how sex is supposed to be.”

“It’s not right, Yu. We can’t.”

“Just once. No one will know. I want you to know what it’s like to feel good. You deserve to feel good.”

“...Just once?”

“Yeah, only tonight.”

“I trust you, Yuta,” you said, meeting his eyes of your own accord.

Yuta’s kiss was so gentle it almost brought tears back to your eyes. His lips slotted against yours with hesitance, like he expected that at any moment, you would bolt from his lap, out the door, and out of his life forever. But you knew you wouldn’t. You couldn’t deny how handsome your big brother was, how you adored his deep blue eyes and full lips, how enamored you were with his size, his large hands and broad shoulders. You couldn’t deny how much you wanted him right now. You deepened the kiss, grazing your tongue over his lips, coaxing him to let you in. He opened up to you, allowing you to explore his mouth.

Yuta shifted you in his lap so that you were straddling him, large hands gripping your waist. You grinded down on him as you laced your fingers through his dark hair. You pulled gently, eliciting a soft moan from the man below you.

“Fuck, I could kiss you all night, baby. You taste so good. But I gotta make you cum. Wanna taste you somewhere else,” Yuta whispered against your lips. You felt your core pulse at his words.

“Take this pretty dress off for me and lay down,” he ordered after giving your lips a final peck. You did as you were told, slowly unzipping your dress and letting it pool at your feet. You stepped out of the fabric and climbed back onto the bed, resting your head on the pillows.

Yuta joined you on the bed, settling at your feet. He took hold of both of your ankles and gently pulled them apart, spreading your legs. You could see the desire burning in his eyes as they made contact with the crotch of your panties. Your face heated as you imagined the growing wet spot forming there. Before you could close your legs out of embarrassment, Yuta moved forward to brush his fingers over your clothed cunt.

“You’ve been torturing me, baby, parading around in these cute little panties. Been haunting my dreams with them. Gonna let me take ‘em off, let me see your pretty pussy?” He asked, almost begging. You nodded your consent, and Yuta placed a kiss on your covered clit before pulling your damp panties off. He stifled a moan at the sight of strings of slick clinging to the fabric as he delicately removed the garment.

“Beautiful,” he whispered, breath fanning over your now-bared pussy. You watched as he tucked your panties in his pocket, and you felt your face warm even more at his actions. You gasped as you felt Yuta’s warm mouth wrap around your clit. He sucked gently before circling it with his tongue.

“Yuuuutaaaa,” you moaned at the unfamiliar yet extremely pleasant sensation.

“Has anyone ever done this for you before baby?” he asked, voice thick with lust.

“N-no, no one,” you admitted, eager to feel his lips on you again.

“Good. Such a good girl, saving the first taste of this pussy for your big brother. So fucking sweet, baby,” he praised before diving back into your cunt. He lapped at your slit, collecting your slick on his tongue. You whined at the feeling and the lewd sounds his mouth on your pussy produced. His tongue moved back to your clit, swirling around it before latching his lips around it. His fingers found their way to your slit, sliding one inside as he continued to suck your clit. He moaned at the tightness of your heat around his finger. It was hard for him to believe that anyone or anything had breached your walls before this moment based on the vice grip they had around him.

He worked his finger in and out of your heat steadily as he continued to suck and lick at your clit, relishing in the sounds of your moans and whines. After a minute or so, Yuta slipped another finger inside you, smiling against your clit at the mewl you let out at the addition.

“Shh, it’s okay, baby. I’ve gotta prep you for me, okay? Gotta get you ready so you feel good, alright?” He cooed from between your legs. You nodded in understanding, desire pooling at your core. You heard Yuta tsk from his position below you.

“Need you to use your words, pretty girl. You gotta use your voice for me.”

“O-okay. Wanna feel good, please, don’t stop!”

“That’s my girl. I’m gonna give you another finger, m’kay? You’re doing so well, pretty,” Yuta encouraged as he added a third finger, mouth returning to your clit with vigor. He was now determined for you to cum, to show you everything that you’d been missing. Everything he could give you. He fucked his fingers into you at a steady but deliberate pace. His mouth latched onto your clit, suckling firmly, using your moans and whines as a guide to how to pleasure you, how to pull more sounds from you, how to fill your brain with thoughts of him, him, and nothing else.

“Yuta, Yuta! Cumming!” you squealed out, toes curling and back arching off the bed at the sensation of your orgasm beginning to roll over you. Yuta doubled his efforts, rolling his tongue over your clit as his fingers picked up the pace. One deep thrust of his fingers led to you practically screaming as you squirted all over your big brother’s face. Yuta couldn’t help his beaming smile as he removed himself from between your thighs as you finally settled from your high.

“I am so sorry! I-I’ve never done that before. Please don’t be mad!” You begged as you took in his damp lips and chin.

“Mad? Baby, why would I be mad? That was so fucking hot. Wanna make you do it again. Come here, give me a kiss. Want you to taste yourself, yeah?” You obliged, rising from the bed to meet your brother halfway. Your lips slotted against his and you marveled at the taste of yourself. You opened up your mouth for Yuta’s tongue to explore, more of your flavor exploding on your tongue at the intrusion. After a moment of sloppy making out, he finally pulled back to smile at you.

“See how good you taste? Such a perfect girl.”

“Did I do good, Yuu?” you ask almost innocently, and Yuta wonders if you planned this, planned to seduce him tonight, planned you make his darkest, filthiest dreams come true. There was no way you were this perfect, this pure and trusting all for him. But looking in your eyes he could see the sincerity, the self-doubt, the need for approval. It made his already hard cock throb with need.

You let out a yelp as Yuta practically tackled you to the bed, pinning you down with his legs on either side of yours and his arms forming a cage around your head. His face hovered over yours, an indiscernible look of intensity in his eyes.

“You did perfect, sweetheart. Fuck, feel that baby? That’s what you do to me,” he said as his hips bucked against yours, grinding his bulge against your soaked core. You moaned as he continued to hump against you like a teenager, bringing your legs to wrap around his hips in an attempt to bring him closer. After several moments, he pulled away, untangling your legs from around his waist.

“Think you’re ready, sweetheart? Wanna give you my cock, want you to cum on it. Think you can?”

“Wanna try, Yuu, need your cock so bad,” you confessed, longing for the feeling and heat of him against you again. You heard him swear as he reached for the waistband of his sweats, yanking them down with his boxers. He quickly pulled them off, abandoning them on the floor with your dress. You let out a gasp when you finally saw his bare cock. It was the biggest you had ever seen in person, and it was so pretty it made your mouth water.

“A-are you sure it’s gonna fit?” you asked hesitantly.

“We’ll make it, yeah? You’re a big girl, you can take it,” he said reassuringly as he took his cock into his hand, stroking it slowly. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from the motion, drool pooling in your mouth at the sight. Yuta approached you again, framing your body with his own.

“Where’s that condom you were talking about?”

“Purse.”

“That’s too far,” he said resolutely, reaching over to his nightstand and opening the drawer. He pulled out a square of gold foil and brought it to his mouth before slamming the drawer closed. You watched as he ripped the packet open with his teeth, catching the rubber in his open palm. He spit the wrapper out, and you watched as it fluttered towards the floor. Yuta rocked back onto his heels, sheathing his cock in the condom before returning to cage your body with his.

“I’m gonna put it in now, okay?” he asked as he lined himself up with your slit.

“Yeah, ‘m ready,” you said, feeling the head of his cock press against your opening.

Slowly, Yuta sank into your heat, moaning at the tightness that enveloped him. You whined along with him, the stretch of him burning beautifully as he filled you. You’d never felt so full, so complete. After what felt like ages, he finally bottomed out inside you.

He remained still, giving you time to adjust to the fullness, but you soon grew impatient, rocking your hips down.

“You can move Yuu, want you to.”

That was all the encouragement he needed to begin thrusting into you. Shallow at first, before pulling further out only to fuck into you even deeper. Yuta was perfect, fucking you deep and steady, using his free hand to toy with the nipple that wasn’t in his mouth. You were quickly overstimulated by the feeling of his mouth, cock, and fingers. All you could do was whine combinations of your brother’s name and curses as he fucked you into the mattress.

“You take my cock so fucking well, baby. I was born for you, this dick was made just for you,” he growled against your chest, punctuating his point with a especially deep thrust.

“Love your cock, Yuta! Feels so good!”

“Fuck yeah baby, ready to cum f’me?”

“Yes, yes, wanna cum!” you proclaimed as you felt his hand move from your nipple to your clit. He began rubbing tight circles around the bud as his hips moved relentlessly against yours. He pulled his lips off your nipple with a pop, moving up to kiss your hungry lips.

“Such a good girl for me, such a perfect little sister, letting your big brother fuck your tight little pussy. Gonna let me do it again yeah? Not gonna be satisfied after one time, are you?” He whispered against your lips.

“No, want this all the time, feels so good Yuta! Never stop, ‘m so close, so close!”

“Come on, you can do it. Squirt all over your big brother’s cock baby! Make a mess, make a fucking mess all over me!” he urged, rubbing your clit faster as his thrusts gained speed. His dirty mouth sent you over the edge, the tight band of pleasure in the pit of your tummy snapping. You gushed on Yuta’s cock with a shriek, eyes seeing white as you came. You could barely hear his chants of “Good girl!” as he chased his own high. His hips stuttered and jerked as you milked him, finally stilling as he released his load into the piece of latex that separated you two.

He lowered his damp forehead to rest against yours and the two of you caught your breath. After a few minutes, he pulled out and rolled from on top of you to lay beside you, wrapping you in his strong arms. You cuddled into them without a second thought, relishing in his warmth and protection. You both remained silent the whole time until you felt him take a deep breath.

“Do you…do you regret what we just did?” Yuta asked in a small voice.

“...No. Not even a little bit.”

“Thank god. We don’t have to do it again, I just wanted to make sure th–”

“What if I want to?”

“Huh?”

“What if I want to do it again?” you asked, adjusting so that you could look into his eyes.

“Then you’re gonna have to stop going on dates with shitty men.”

“Done. You’re the only man I need.”

#🩵: writing #jjk x reader #jjk smut #yuta okkotsu x reader #okkotsu yuta x reader #angelshubnetwork #ghostqueues #yuuta okkotsu x reader #okkotsu yuuta x reader #okkotsu yuta #yuta okkotsu #yuuta okkotsu #okkotsu yuuta #🩵: yuta

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explosionkatsu · 3 months

Text

Splitting Image

Pairing: ProHero!Bakugo x F!Reader

Summary: Y/n, a young woman who was once living in Tokyo, made a tough decision to move away and start afresh after the death of a loved one. The loss left her heartbroken, and she decided to close her heart to romance. However, fate had other plans for her. One day, she saw someone who bore an uncanny resemblance to her deceased loved one. The sight took her aback. What it would be like to meet this person and whether it would bring the memories and emotions she had been trying to leave behind.

Warning: NONE

———

Prologue

It's been years ever since the death of her fiancee. Y/n just couldn't go back to dating thinking that it was disrespectful to Kudou.

Although his family encouraged her to find herself a new partner, and that Kudou would understand, Y/n just couldn't. She couldn't love anyone but him. Only him.

She is aware that every single day, she was like a lifeless doll, walking in the street as she made her way to her workplace. That is when her family suggested she should start a new life where she could mend herself away from Tokyo.

She didn't like it. She was against it, not until Kudou's family approved of this.

"Y/n, my daughter.. Start a new life, please. Kudou wouldn't want you to be this way. You're making it hard for him to leave the world. He should be where he was supposed to be. I love you like my daughter. Like my own. But please. This is for your good…” Those are the exact words Y/n could never forget.

They were right though. Her grieving is probably holding Kudou back from leaving this world.

Y/n made a life-changing decision and decided to start anew. She took their advice and got on the train to Musutafu, Japan, where she hoped to find a fresh start. After a few hours on the train, she finally arrived at her destination. Stepping off the train, she hailed a taxi and told the driver the address of her new apartment, which was near the agency where she planned to apply for a job.

Y/n had enough savings in her bank account to cover her expenses for a few months, including rent, food, and utilities. As the taxi drove through the busy streets, Y/n wondered if she had made the right decision. But she quickly shook off her doubts and focused on the positive aspects of her new life.

Finally, they arrived at her new apartment building. Y/n stepped out of the car, thanked the driver, and made her way to the main door. The security guard greeted her with a bow and handed her the key to her new apartment.

"Welcome to Musutafu, Miss Y/n," he said with a smile.

Y/n smiled back and thanked him before heading to the third floor where her apartment was located. As soon as she saw the door with the exact number as the one in the message, she inserted the key and pushed it open.

The apartment was small, but it was just the right size for her. The walls were painted in a soothing pastel green, and the floors were a warm coffee brown. The rooms were bright and airy, and Y/n felt a sense of dread yet calm wash over her.

Hours passed as Y/n unpacked and arranged her belongings with the help of her friendly neighbor. She had bought some furniture, a few appliances like a microwave oven and a rice cooker, and some essentials like a mattress, pillows, and a blanket. She also had a small closet where she could temporarily store her clothes.

As she settled into her new home, Y/n felt a sense of sadness but still hoped for a better future. She knew that this was the beginning of a new chapter in her life and this was for the best.

---

Y/n woke up early at 6 am and stretched her arms, reaching for her phone. As she scrolled through her emails, her eyes widened at the sight of a new message from the agency she had applied to. They had invited her for an interview that very afternoon. Her heart started pounding with excitement at the thought of a potential new job. She sat up instantly and looked for appropriate clothes to wear, eager to start her day on the right note.

After finding the perfect outfit, she went to the bathroom and took a relaxing bath, allowing the warm water to wash away any lingering sleepiness, and hopefully, the sadness. "This is a good start," she thought to herself, feeling slightly satisfied with her progress. Everything seemed to be falling into place for her.

Once she was done, Y/n went out for breakfast, feeling a bit energized and ready to take on the day. She grabbed the thick orange scarf that Kudou had given her before the incident happened, a cherished reminder of the past. She wrapped the scarf around her neck, not too tight, just enough to keep her warm, and put on a black winter jacket to keep the cold at bay. After taking an extra look at herself in the mirror, she exited her apartment, locking the door behind her.

As soon as she turned towards the stairs, she was met by her neighbor, a sweet green-haired lady who was preparing for work. Y/n greeted her with a slight bow to show respect, "O-ohayo."

"Ara. Ms. L/n, ohayo," the neighbor smiled, her eyes lighting up at the sight of her. "Are you headed to work as well?" she asked, her voice filled with curiosity and kindness.

"Oh, um, no," Y/n smiled back. "I'm on my way to get breakfast," she answered, feeling grateful for the company. "I have an interview in the afternoon though."

"Oh! Good luck to you then! I apologize as well, I forgot to introduce myself last night. My name is Inko Midoriya," Inko once again bowed as she introduced herself, feeling embarrassed but not losing her smile.

"It's alright, um, Miss Midoriya," Y/n slightly panicked but giggling, feeling a sense of warmth from her presence.

"Come on, I'll let you know where there's a good bakery nearby," Inko motioned Y/n to walk with her, making Y/n slightly stumble on her step. She felt grateful for the offer and took her up on it.

"D-do you mind?" Y/n asked, feeling comforted by the offer.

"Of course not, dear. Besides, you reminded me of my son," Inko giggled, feeling a sense of nostalgia.

Y/n blushed slightly at the comparison. "Your son?" she asked, curious to know more.

"Haha, yes. He might be a little older than you," Inko smiled and continued walking. "He lives alone now that he has become a pro hero."

"He's a pro hero? That's so cool," Y/n smiled with admiration as she listened.

"Mhm," Inko nodded, feeling proud of her son's accomplishments. "He was able to achieve his dream to be number 1."

Hearing this made Y/n stop in her tracks. "Number 1?" she said, feeling shocked and impressed. "Are you saying that Deku is your..." She was surprised to hear this.

"Deku, the number 1 hero of Japan," Inko giggled at Y/n's reaction, feeling happy to share her son's achievements.

"What?!" Y/n said but soon covered her mouth, embarrassed of her outburst. She started walking again, feeling grateful for the chance encounter. "I can't believe I'm talking to his mom." Now that she said that, she could see the features of Deku, similar to Inko's. How could she have not noticed it before?

"Haha. I can't believe I am his mother, either." Inko said. "We're almost there." She added as the bakery appeared in her view.

"You must be proud of your son," Y/n said admiring the hero.

"I am," Inko said. "But I couldn't help but worry sometimes," Inko added.

Y/n noticed the worry laced in Inko's voice. She couldn't blame her though. Her son's life is always on the line. She felt the same way when Kudou was still alive.

Y/n and Inko walked towards the bakery, with Inko's mind still preoccupied with the conversation they had earlier. She seemed to be lost in her thoughts, but Y/n noticed her distress and tried to lift her spirits. "I understand what you feel, Miss Midoriya," she mumbled. "But let's hope for the best, okay? Let's be positive!"

Inko looked at Y/n, respecting her positivity. She nodded happily in agreement, hoping that her optimism would help her cope with her worries.

As they entered the bakery, Y/n's eyes sparkled with excitement at the sight of the bread and cakes. She made a beeline for the cake slices, eagerly examining the different options available.

Inko watched Y/n with amusement, noticing how her eyes lit up with delight as she gazed at the cakes. She really did remind her of Izuku, "I see you like sweets," Inko said, smiling.

Y/n was so engrossed in her selection that she had almost forgotten that she had company. Feeling embarrassed by her actions, she covered her face with her hand. "I'm s-sorry.." she mumbled, feeling self-conscious.

Inko laughed, finding Y/n's embarrassment adorable. "Haha! It's fine, sweety," she said, teasingly.

Hearing Inko's laughter, Y/n extracted her hand from her face, her smile returning. She felt at ease with Inko.

Y/n paid for the slices, and as they turned to leave, she handed one to Inko. "T-thank you for taking me here, Miss Midoriya!" Y/n said, blushing.

"E-eh?! N-no! It's okay! You don't h-have to!" Inko waved her hand, refusing the cake. She was touched by Y/n's gesture but didn't want to impose. Although, the cake looks good.

"I insist!" Y/n said, pushing the slice into Inko's hand. "This is a thank you slice for accompanying me!"

As Inko was about to return it, a woman's voice interrupted their conversation. "Inko??" she said, calling out to Inko.

Inko turned to see Mitsuki, a close friend of hers, approaching them. "Ah, Mitsuki. Ohayo," Inko greeted, happy to see her friend.

Y/n was now quiet as she stared at the stunning woman walking towards them. Mitsuki was strikingly beautiful, with fiery blonde hair and a confident stride.

"I haven't seen you in a while! How was Izuku?" Mitsuki grinned, seeing her best friend. She then turned her gaze to Y/n, who was staring at her. "And who is this attractive young lady with you?"

Y/n couldn't believe her eyes. This woman in front of her looked exactly like Kudou, the difference was the hair color and gender.

"Oh. This is Y/n Ln. Our new neighbor," Inko introduced Y/n. "Y/n, this is Mitsuki Bakugo, a close friend of mine."

Y/n felt a bit shy and overwhelmed as Mitsuki's piercing velvet eyes met hers. She blinked out her trance and bowed. "N-nice to meet you! My name is Y/n Ln."

"Ara, ara. Such a formal young lady," Mitsuki said, snickering. "You don't have to bow, you know."

A blush crept up Y/n's cheeks as Mitsuki turned to Inko and said, "Haha. So anyway, I didn't expect to see you here."

Inko explained that she had been accompanying Y/n since she had moved to the area just the previous day and was still unfamiliar with the place. She had decided to take her to the bakery, and they were enjoying a slice of cake as they chatted.

Mitsuki then went on to say that the cakes there were delectable, especially the ones filled with fruits. "Katsuki loved them," Mitsuki laughed as she reminisced about him forcing her to buy him one. Inko laughed along, and Y/n watched cluelessly as the two adults conversed, feeling a little out of place in their company.

Mitsuki noticed this and explained "I have a son who was sadly the number 2 hero, Dynamight."

Y/n was once again taken aback, realizing that her new place seemed to be filled with the parents of prominent heroes.

Mitsuki confirmed it, and Y/n found it bizarre that Deku and Dynamight were rivals yet their mothers seemed to be getting along so well. Y/n paused and asked, "Wait, um… Deku and Dynamight are rivals, yet…"

Mitsuki grinned and said, "We get along so well? I know, right? It's just my son who's an idiot. He's been very competitive ever since he was a kid."

Inko then speaks up, "Deku and Dynamight were childhood friends," which piqued Y/n's curiosity even further.

---

Alright, this is an upcoming series as well. I am confused about what to write next since the 'Age Doesn't Matter' is ending. And if you haven't read that, you should.

Maybe I'll make a poll about what series I should do next? Haha! Enjoy!

#bakugou katsuki #bnha bakugou #bakugou x y/n #bnha bakugo katsuki #bakugou x reader #mha bakugou #katsuki bakugo mha #bakugou katuski x reader #bakugou x you #katsuki bakugo x reader

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bas-writes · 6 months

Text

nonsexual acts of intimacy ↬ finding the other wearing their clothes

❧ ino takuma x gn!reader | cw: domestic fluff, established relationship ❧

"Have you seen my—"

Ino freezes mid-step when he realizes what he is looking at. It feels weirdly…inappropriate to see you like this, wearing nothing but the hoodie he's been looking for. He's like an intruder amid your little morning serenity, with a cup of warm drink in your hand and bread in a toaster. Your hair is disheveled and face you turn to him: as sleepy as it can be at six in the morning in the narrow kitchen, under the dim light of an old ceiling lamp.

Then, a shame scratches at the back of his head. It's not a fresh hoodie; he returned home late and found power to only hang it on a chair to "air it out" instead of running a quick laundry. Fate knows how much he had been running that day, sweating buckets and soaking in the city's stench. It just…can't smell good—and you're wearing it, snuggled cozy, balancing on one foot to warm the other against your calf, your favorite mug enveloped by your hands…

"Seen what?" Your voice is raspy and louder than a whisper only just a little. You squint your eyes and tilt your head to the side to avoid the direct light—and Ino's heart melts at how cute you look right now. All his qualms fade when his chest fills with mushy warmth; he doesn't feel awkward or ashamed anymore, just sweetened and weak, and weirdly needy of your touch.

He wants to have you in his arms again, the same way as he cradled you in your shared bed, so happy and relieved to live through another day, to yet again be blessed with sneaking to rest by your side and listen to your calm breath.

"Mmm, nothing." He approaches close and wraps his arms around you, waiting just a moment for you to put the mug on the counter and climb next to it.

Ino likes to cuddle with your head resting on his chest—but never misses on an opportunity for the opposite. He brushes lips against your neck and lingers for longer in its crook, to breathe the intimate smell of sheets and your skin before the morning shower. But soon enough he trails lower and nuzzles to your chest, into your warmth and the steady sound of your heartbeat.

You run fingers through his hair, gathering it to the back and exposing his scar, which you soon trace with a thumb, "We need to get you to a hairdresser."

He nearly purrs, then giggles when you wrap legs around him, your cold feet brushing against his bare calves, "Thought you liked me with longer hair?"

"You can barely see."

When you let his strands fall free again, they indeed block the majority of Ino's vision, or rather of its field already restricted by your chest and folds of the hoodie. But he sees your half-lidded eyes and warm love in them, a little droplet of drool dried at the corner of your lips, and all the wrinkles and nooks that make your face so familiar and special.

He has never felt more in love before than in this split moment of early and dark autumn morning in the middle of the kitchen of a little rented apartment on the outskirts of Tokyo, "I have everything I need to see right here."

a/n: trying to get myself back into writing with the power of fluff and autumnal yearning for touch. i hope to run through the whole list eventually and before the time for winter comes! this one with dedication to @mirkaaaluv 'cause she really helped me develop a soft spot for ino ❤

#jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #ino takuma x reader #ino takuma x you #ino takuma x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x y/n #jjk x y/n #jujutsu kaisen imagine #jjk imagine #jujutsu kaisen scenario #jjk scenario #bas writes #jjk #ino takuma #gender neutral reader

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honeybubblegumpink · 6 months

Text

Brother best friend | Gojo satoru

Genre : fluff , short ,

Reader who is suguru twin sister, who can't use Jujutsu but can still see curses, goes to a regular high.

An: got this idea when I was walk home from school. I bag was so fucking heavy it was almost 7kgs 😭

" suguru ~ where are you going?" The teenage boy with the sunglasses ask his best friend

" I'm picking up my sister from school "

" can I come along? " his face brighten having the idea seeing you again even though he just saw you yesterday.

Since they had nothing to do today because yaga-sensei was in a meeting with the the higher ups and other teachers, why not pick you up from school?

Every since you and Suguru came here in Tokyo you guys debate whether or not to rent a apartment . Since you go to a regular high school and Suguru to Jujutsu tech.

After a few months you decided to live with your brother in Jujutsu tech , because you barley go back to the apartment anyways and you guys can save up more money , even though you can't use cursed energy you can also do some side training with your brother and his friends

" where are you two going " shoko asked the duo

" we're off to pick up y/n from school " gojo answer with a beaming smile

" mind buying some refreshment on your way back? It's hot out here " shoko complained about the Suns heat

" sure "

" cya later , come on Suguru let's go "

" wait up, no need to rush we have plenty of time "

" look at those two guys over the at the gate! "

" wow they are so hot ! "

" why are they there tho? "

" look at their uniform, I haven't seen them around here"

" maybe they're fro. Those private schoolers "

You hear the crowd of girls say as you made your wat time the gate .

You sigh " why is it so damn hot today " you wipe the droplets of sweat of your face. Carrying your heavy bag you try to make your way out of the school. But the crowd of girls won't let you.

" excuse me coming through " you squeeze your way into the crowd but no avail.

" Suguru do you know which class y/n is?" Gojo looked at his best friends ignoring the girls behind them

" we are not allowed to enter satoru. Those are the rules of the school. No outsiders of other school are allowed " Suguru said looking at his best friend who lean back against the gate wall.

" what'a stupid rule. Honestl-"

" uhm hey! " their conversations where interrupted by two girls they both looked at her

" uhm we where wondering, if we could have both of your numbers " the girsl ask sheepishly

" sorry but I'm not interested " Suguru answered the girls then looked at gojo who still haven't answered yet

" welllll let me think " he taps his chin " hm I would like to give you my number....butttt I already have someone in my heart " the girls heart shattered and walked away feeling rejected.

" you could have straight up told them no " Suguru said to his friend

" what's the fun in that? "

" shattering a girls heart isn't fun satoru." Suguru said in a serious expression

" I'm sorry " satoru pouted earning pat on the back from Suguru

" excuse me , coming through " satoru ears purked up , hearing your voice from the crowd of of girls

" whoever it is must be totally super hottie, getting so many girls attention- "

" y/n ! " you turn around to see your brother and his best friend waving at you.

" oh I see why...." You deadpaned , so they where the who cause all the girls attention you thought.

" Suguru ~ " you wined calling out your brother which he just stopped walk and looked over at his shoulder

"Can you summon that flying stingray curse thingy, my bags heavy and I don't think can walk any further in this heat " you complained

" sorry y/n there's to many people " by people he ment the girls at your school, that's has been following the three of you.

" jeez can't they leave? " gojo said annoyed

" but my bag~" you wined slowly falling down dramatically until your on all fours

" stop acting like child will you y/n" your brother sigh help you get up by grabbing your school bag.

" come on hope on I'll carry you " gojo kneeled down

" really! Your the best! " you happily accept gojo giving you a piggy back ride.

" up we go." He lifted you , your arm around his neck as you sigh of relief

" what do you have in your bag anyways ? Stones ? "

" that damm professor said we had to bring those three big ass heavy books today and the audacity of him not showing up! "

" is she asleep? "

" yeah "

" I can feel her drool seeping through my uniform " gojo said still carrying you . They stayed silent for a while

" Suguru "

" hm ?"

" you know I like y/n right? " he turn to his friend

" like an open book."

It's no secret that gojo satoru have a crush on you. Suguru caught on the momment you step on Jujutsu high. It's was love at first sight gojo thought

" what you said earlier. About ' shattering a girls heart isn't fun ' I won't let it happen to y/n " satoru said seriously, turning to look at his best friend.

" I know, that's why I didn't stop you. If it was some other dude I would have break his bones already " that makes satoru chuckle a little

" watcha laughing about? " they both heard your sleepy voice

" nothing " they both said in sink , making you pout thinking you missed a good joke or something important.

#gojo fluff #gojo satoru #gojo saturo #gojo x reader #gojou satoru x reader #gojou satoru x you #jjk gojo #jjk satoru #jujutsu gojo #jujutsu kaisen

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prettyboykatsuki · 2 months

Text

CIRCLE HAUNTS | TAKAMI KEIGO (HAWKS)

✮ tags ; dead dove: do not eat, gender neutral reader, no quirk au, horror + suspense, themes of cannibalism, implied / depicted cannibalism, noncon kissing + biting/drawing blood and flesh, intentionally open-ended, institutionalized cannibalism, white collar crime, yandere!hawks, 18+

✮ wc ; 9.9k (??)

✮ a/n ; another comm for the beloved @bitchkiss, thank you for your patience and also for letting me post.

✮ synopsis ; you move into a suspiciously nice house in the shizuoka prefecture, and meet your good-looking and unnerving neighbor. nothing is how it seems.

An abandoned house. Mostly functional in the outskirts of the Shizuoka prefectures in a lived-in district.

On auction for a little less than 7 million-yen. Located in a not quite suburb. Too much land between acres and backyards to qualify that way. All the other houses are within walking distance though, and there’s no shortage of places to go with a fair bit of time and energy.

By all measures, a perfectly good house in a perfectly good prefecture. Even now you’re not sure why it went on sale. You stare at it, outside cream colored with a gate and a cat bowl left on the porch from the previous owner - food gone to dust. Something looms on at the doorsteps, the sun-cast shadows almost as dark as oblivion night. In the front yard are wild strawberries and bushes of ivy.

It’s a home, no matter which way you look at it.

But you can’t bring yourself to walk inside.

You placed your bets on this house completely on a whim months ago.

You’d been looking for a house. No that’s not it - it was more that you’d started to look at houses. An important distinction in this instance, because you weren’t looking to move when you began. You wonder if it’s a rite of passage in your adulthood to peruse listings for places you can’t afford. Dreaming habitually of your landlord's body on a cross or of in unit washer/dryers. You weren’t unhappy with your living arrangements when you started doing it, but the longing for autonomy sunk its teeth into you and showed no plans of letting go. So browsing through houses idly, wine-drunk and exhausted, became something of a regular practice.

It was three months ago, during that practice (and after an especially scathing argument with your roommates) you’d gotten drunk and committed your usual routine. Cracked open a wine cooler, took off your clothes until you were down to your underwear, and cracked open your laptop to look at more property listings. That time, with a little more weary bitterness in your heart than all times before.

The search process for Japanese property could range anywhere from uneventful to laughably cruel at any given time. Whether it be listings for upend mansions in Tokyo or worn down one-bedrooms in Osaka. For every house that seemed livable, there were ten or fifteen completely out of reach or in complete shambles.

When you came up on thee listing initially, it felt too good to be true. A house in Shizuoka with lots of yard space. A house with decent upkeep and an even larger kitchen - and nice tatami in one of the siderooms. A beautiful house in a beautiful area, on auction instead of the normal sale. Some people had bid on it - but the pool was still low. Seven million yen was your final bet - the mortgage would only be a little more than your rent. You’d put your name down on a whim. With a laugh.

Laughed yourself unconscious and forgot about it until a month passed. A call from an unknown number to your personal cell.

A call from a realtor. Your name, miraculously, got chosen with the highest bid. The house was yours if you wanted it. You could move in as early as May.

You were convinced it was a scam at first - like any normal person with common sense would be. Immediately rejected. But the realtors assured you over the line that it wasn’t a scam, that the previous owners just didn’t want it anymore. Some kind of emergency. Of course - you didn’t believe them at face value either. So you did some research, went to tour the house, tried to gather information proving the whole thing was a hoax.

But there was nothing you could find even after plenty of internet sleuthing and asking everyone in your life to help you vet. When you mentioned to everyone, not a single person advocated for you staying in the city. Your job even offered to move you to the Shizuoka branch.

It was a good opportunity. There’s a coastal path not too far from where the house is. The previous family didn’t take the cat or any of his papers with him - but he’s friendly from what they say. There’s lots of space indoors and out.

It’s a cheap price, for a good house and you’d probably never get an opportunity like it again.

Something is wrong with it. You can tell that just looking at it now, despite how picture-esque it is on the surface. It’s a beautiful house. There’s even a second story and a balcony. You could plant a garden in the yard and still have space for grilling outside.

It’s a beautiful house.

And something is wrong with it - but you’ll never get an opportunity like this again.

Maybe you’re more of a conspiratorial person than you thought.

You look at the truck you’ve hauled all your things in. Your loved ones have been helping you in moving in the rest of your belongings over the last few months - so what's left is mostly lightweight knick-knacks and essentials. Clothes too. The car is parked along the side of the road with the back popped open for easy access. You shake yourself off your thoughts like you’re trying to banish them.

It’s a beautiful day outside. Early June heat that’s enough to warm but not enough to burn or swelter. The sun beats down on your skin, the sounds of gnats buzzing and the breeze rustling the overgrown fields makes your heart swell. You take a breath and remind yourself it’s a good opportunity. Stretching your arms over your head, your spine cracks. Putting your hands on your hips, you nod enthusiastically, encouraging yourself to try harder.

“Let’s just rip the bandaid off,” You mutter. You pull your keys from your front pocket, planning on opening the door first before hauling the rest in.

The sound of an engine makes you turn your head towards the road. A silver car, something compact - drives along the edge of the pavement. Your expression changes as the car starts to slow in front of the house. Your house. You’re never going to be used to that. Are the realtors coming for a visit? Your move-in date was set months ago, so they should know you’re here.

The car halts to a stop a few feet from your own truck, the tinted windows rolling down to reveal a good looking blonde man. He can’t be much older than you. He lets his arm hang out from one side of the window.

His hair is pushed back and shiny, and he’s wearing a button up shirt and brown pants. There’s sunglasses resting on top of his head. He kind of looks like a douche, but you try not to let first impressions sour your views. You give him a confused look, instinctively backing away as he smiles at you.

“You must be the new neighbor. Heard someone was moving into this place after the Nakamura’s left, but there’s always rumors like that floating around here,” He says, talking so much at once. You kind of have a hard time getting used to him.”But I’m glad to see that it’s true. Gets a little lonely out here if all the houses don’t have people in it. In my opinion, at least.”

You give him a blank stare. He holds out his arm to you through the car window. You have no reason not to take it, and it seems rude for you to decline - so you shake his hand. His grip is firm and assured, golden eyes narrowing into something pleased. You feel a shiver run through you.

There’s something about him.

“Uh, do I know you?” You say instinctually. This catches him off guard. He pauses before breaking out into a laugh.

“I’m Takami Keigo! You’ll hear people call me Hawks too though. I’m your neighbor. My house is..” He points north, “..the one ‘bout two minutes that way. I’m very involved with the community here. It’s pretty tight knit.” He explains to you. It doesn’t reassure you for some reason. You think it’s supposed to. “Is there anything I can help you with? Looks like you’re still moving in.”

You make an expression of distrust towards him but his smile remains unfaltering.

“I’m alright,” You supplement, trying to keep the peace. “I wouldn’t wanna keep you but I appreciate you coming to meet me.”

He looks like he’s considering the words, enough to turn himself around and leave. After a few seconds though, he pulls away and parks his car on the side of the road in front of your house. When he emerges from the front door - his expression doesn’t change at all. His smile is disarming. He’s not a terrible guy to look at - but you wonder what he’s doing so far from the city.

The way he dresses is metropolitan. His shirt is loose but his pants are fitted like their tailored - expensive fabrics that the big suits from your job wear. He’s wearing slacks when he’s not working, and loafer shoes that don’t seem suited for the outdoors. You’re not far enough in the country to be expecting country folk, but the area is relegated to families. Something suburban and simple about the people you’ve met so far, yourself included in some ways. No one like him.

You go with your gut about him and keep a distance.

It might be too early to completely shut him out - and you do want to get along with the people here if you’re going to take permanent residence. Not friendly, but comfortable. You figure it might be less precarious to go with whatever he’s interested in. He’s not going to harm you in broad daylight, not when he’s dressed like that. And you’ve already had so much apprehension since you’ve moved - you’re almost hoping there’s something you’ve overlooked about him. Something to assure you’re just engaging in some self-sabotage about everything.

You soften your posture and put on a business smile. There’s a ghost of something - intrigue maybe, but it’s gone before you catch wind of it. You wonder if you imagined it.

“Well if you insist, but I don’t want to leave you with nothing,” You offer to him, as charismatic and naive as you can spin yourself. Neither of you seem to believe it, and the whole conversation feels like a sham. But he hasn’t turned to leave in offense, so you keep going “I do have some drinks inside and I’m curious about the neighborhood.”

His grin widens.

“June heat like this is the perfect weather for a cold beer. Would be great with some meat,” He hums noncommittally. You try your best not to let your face crack into distrust. “What do you need? Just some boxes carried inside?”

You nod.

“Yeah. It’d be nice to only make a few trips here and there.”

“Easy peasy. You didn’t give me your name though. Little impersonal, don’t you think?”

You’d prefer he didn’t know it - but perhaps that’s asking too much since you’re letting him move things into your house. You give it to him neutrally, picking up a tote that you can carry along with your keys. Takami picks up your things swiftly. The boxes he chooses are heavy - you know that because of the way they’re labeled. The gesture is effortless though, and you’re not sure if it’s good or bad that you’ve noticed.

“Pretty name.” He tells you, and you do your best to not make a face. When he notices your staring, he tilts his head to one side. His teeth gleam an unnerving white. You can’t get over the yellow-gold of his eyes. “Surprising, right? But I’m stronger than I look.”

He waits for you to walk in front of him. Maybe it’s the paranoia, but it strikes you somehow. How he’s trying to appear. He’s perceptive. You walk in front of him, starting down the concrete path to the front of the house.

“Any reason or are you just a gym buff?”

He thinks about how he’s going to reply, but doesn’t meet your eyes to look at you when he does.

“Got into a lot of fights as a kid so I had to get strong. Something like that.”

When your eyes meet the second time, you can tell he’s seeing what you’ll probe out of him. Wanting to know what questions you’ll ask.

“Rough childhood, then?”

Bullseye, if his reaction is anything to go by. He hums and chuckles, still carrying the boxes. You fidget with your keys, the door sounding with a faint click as you push it open with the weight.

The lights are all turned off. It’s not your first time seeing the house - but the first time seeing it furnished in full. For weeks you’d been putting your furniture in it, and putting food in the fridge to make moving in smooth. All the other times you’ve been inside, you’ve never felt one way or another about it. Living there wasn’t actualized for all those months - but looking at your things, new and old, makes it all feel real.

It’s a moment too intimate for a stranger to bear witness to and you think he’s probably well-aware. He doesn’t say a word, just observes you from the corner of his eye. When you come out of whatever trance you were just under, he whistles.

“Nice decor,” He compliments - a fair attempt at lightening the mood. “Where should I put these?”

“Those can just go behind the couch for now, thanks.”

He listens to you wordlessly, dropping the boxes off. You watch the light of the sun reflect onto him. He’s yellow gold. You think your mother might find him good looking. He stands back up and meets your eyes. Piercing, underneath everything. He has marks on the corners of his eyes that give you the impression of a bird. A hawk scoping for something to peck at.

“Two down, about how many more to go do you think?”

“I think 6, give or take. And then some luggage with my clothes.”

“Let’s get to work then, shall we?”

You give him a tight lipped smile.

“Of course,”

It doesn’t take long for the two of you to bring all of your belongings into the house. It’s a short few trips and there isn’t really much small talk for the two of you to engage in during it.

Once it’s over you, you thank Takami for his hard work and reward him with a beer as promised. You’re sure he knows that it’s only formality - but he’s completely comfortable in overstaying his welcome.

The two of you sit on the steps leading up to the front of your house - a cold beer in hand. The sun is starting to hide behind the clouds, and that deep shadow seems to cast once again. Over the both of you this time, and not just on your front steps. You let your nail push the tab of the can open, a soft carbonated hiss sounding as you depressurize it. Takami follows suit. He holds the can up to yours and looks at you before you can drink.

“Cheers to our hard work,”

You try not to balk at him, indulging his odd behavior per your own sanity. He’s aware of your apprehension, but his persistence is almost impressive. Another tight lipped smile. “Cheers, Takami-san.”

You take your first sips in complete silence and don’t look his way for any reason. You need the brief respite of peace to deal with the terrible weight of the pit in your stomach, still lingering. You wonder if his presence is worsening it, or if this is another thing your imagination decides to supplement. The cool liquid and faint sourness of Sapporo ease your mind, if barely. You observe the can in your hand momentarily, pretending to read the label.

He takes a similarly long sip of his drink and then lets out a semi-obnoxious aah. You peer over at him.

“Thanks again for helping with the move.” You say, mostly trying to fill the space with conversation so you don’t have to talk to him more than necessary. “I appreciate it.”

“Of course,” He says, waving his hand around in front of him. “Like I said, it’s a pretty tight knit community around here. I’ll introduce you to everyone whenever you’re free. They’re good folk.”

There’s something in his voice when he adds the last words. You wonder if you’re overthinking it again.

“Is that so?”

He looks at you, but you don’t meet his gaze. “Mm. A lot of people move out here to get a break from the hustle and bustle of the city. Hard-working folks. Families. It’s good to know them,”

You wonder if you’re being too honest about yourself - but decide that there isn’t anything he could do with the information you’re about to tell him.

“Interesting. I always grew up in the heart of the industrial district, so that’s lost on me. I even lived in Shinjuku for a while.” You offer mindlessly. “A good change of pace I guess.”

“Oh, we’re the same then,” He offers. You want to ask him to elaborate on what that means, but he brushes over it just as quickly “You’ll like it here then. Just knock on my door if you need something.”

He looks at you again that time, some knowing in his gaze. You try not to react in either direction, just nodding your head silently as you drink more of your beer.

“Yeah,” You offer, not looking towards him, “I’ll do that.”

For all the evading you down when you speak to Keigo, it was no lie that you spent most of your life living in the heart of the city.

The hustle and bustle of Musutafu, in the industrial districts of various prefectures - all of that was what you were accustomed too. When you were in your late teens and moved out for the first time - you lived in Shinjuku for two years and worked in the nightlife trying to pay for your tuition.

You would’ve never predicted a suburb for your future. It’s not the environment you know well. You can’t help but wonder if it’s always so… quiet.

In the time you’ve started living in your new home, not much has changed in your daily life.

Your initial paranoia has faded out enough to go about your responsibilities in peace. The previous family’s cat occasionally returns back to the porch, and you’ve started to buy it food just in case it decides it wants to stay permanently. A brown tortoiseshell who is always a little worried. You eat breakfast at the same time, but sleep in later since the Shizuoka branch you’ve moved to is a shorter commute. You still take your daily walks, and sometimes you’ll take some time to visit the coastal path and lay your eyes on the open water.

(The ocean doesn’t feel as comforting as it once did. Maybe it’s symptomatic of your own grievances, but looking at the endless expanse - your throat closes with the fear of it swallowing you along with it.

If it did, who would come find you? So far from everything you know?)

You’re entering into mid June, brushing along the edges of July. The heat is starting to be too much. You can’t stay outdoors for too long without feeling like your whole body is going to melt into the concrete and evaporate you from the inside. The nights get chilly, but the days are long. Humidity makes your skin sticky with sweat, and you’re running up your water bill with just how often you bathe.

Everything here is by all means much more uneventful. Some parts of it unsettle you. The nights are eerily quiet and before dawn breaks, there’s always a thick head of something perspiring in the horizon like fog.

Most days, the only people you talk to in person are your co-workers. Your friends live back in your hometown, so you only see them on weekends. Same with your family. It’s just you, and some after work dinners.

But mostly you.

And Hawks. You call him Hawks, in your head and Takami when he speaks. But Hawks feels more apt.

Hawks, seemingly, does not care what face you show him. Nothing stops him from showing up at your door at one time or another - always before you’re going on your walks.

(You want to ask how he even knows your schedule, but you doubt he’d give you any straight answers.)

And he doesn’t leave. You don’t think he would, no matter how rough you were about telling to fuck off. How demanding. You don’t want to confront him out of self preservation. It’s not easy to tell him to fuck off for some reason you have trouble placing. When you normally would, when it’d normally be so easy. You do it at your job all the time, to men much more important than him.

When he comes by, he hangs at your gate and never crosses the threshold to enter. He won’t move unless he’s invited in. You give up on being nice. If you offer him a glass of water, he’ll always agree just to see your expression change. He’s polite to make you uncomfortable. Says please and thank you, and makes conversation with you like he’s interested. An amalgam of reasons that you don’t like his company. Inescapable kindness that lends itself to plausible deniability.

What do you do for work? Oh, what’d you study for? Where are you from? Where are your parents from?

You never want to answer his questions. But he stays, lingers longer if you don’t. He archives the information, you’re sure - but you don’t know what for.

He knows what he needs to know. You live by yourself and your family is farther away. But he always wants to know more, always lingers at the gates - waiting to be let in despite how tight you’ve got your fingers on the lock.

You try not to involve yourself with him more than necessary. You avoid him if you’re walking around the neighborhood for any reason, and you never ask him about himself. He never tells you about himself either - but you can’t be sure why that is. If it’s for your sake or for his.

You try not to get used to him, but it doesn’t surprise you to see him just outside of your door. Sun pours over him in white rays like melted iron, but he’s the same as always. Same smile, same golden eyes, same unnerving expression.

He waves at you politely as you let your bodycon bag hang off of one side - a single headphone in as you look at him. You don’t bother smiling.

If it bothers him, it doesn’t show on his face.

“Hi neighbor,”

“Hey,” You reply, walking closer to the gate. It’s almost routine, but you try your best not to get used to it. No point in getting comfortable. “You’re here again,”

He laughs good-naturedly. “I am. Good to check in, no? Don’t want you getting lonely out here by yourself.”

“I wouldn’t worry about that,”

He laughs again, but he sounds more sincere.

“Going on another walk? You should be careful in this heat, you know. Take care of your body and everything.”

“I’ll be fine,” You offer, standing in limbo and waiting for him to leave. “Thanks for your concern.”

“So cold to me,” He quips. So he does know. “Hope it’s a nice little workout for you.”

You sigh as you make more small talk, mostly tuned out of whatever he’s saying.

“Got any plans for today, Takami-san?”

He pauses before smiling to himself. He lets his arms cross over the metal of your gate, but doesn’t flinch when the heated edge touches his bare skin. You wonder about it, go to ask - but he’s talking again before you can.

“I do, actually. Gonna go into the shop today and get a new fridge,” He tells you, his grin bright and unusual. You’re surprised. He never tells you anything about what he’s doing, no matter how casual. Nothing more than whether he’s working or not. “I’m out of room in my old fridge, so I’m upsizing.”

“Out of room?”

You ask before you can calculate the correct move. It’s a slip up, you both know it. His smile widens just barely, nodding his head and closing his eyes.

“Mm. Ran out of space. A lot of mouths to feed.” He says, and opens one eye playful. “A lot of people live with me. Too big of a house to leave everything all empty.”

“I wouldn’t have guessed that.”

“Oh my roommates?” Hawks says, and you nod. His smile gets bigger. “They’re kind of a rag-tag bunch. Not sociable like me. I can always bring them to meet you - if you’d like.”

“No need to trouble them.”

“But you should get to know the people who live here a little better,” He insists, finally backing away from your gate. “It’s good to be familiar with your neighbors. I’ll try and direct people to you. Word’ll get out faster that way,”

You go again to protest, but he cuts you off a second time - seeming faux apologetic about your upset.

“You should come over for dinner next week, too. Meet my roommates. At 7 ish, we should all be together. They’d love to meet you,”

You meet his eyes and wonder if his invitation is as deliberate as you assume. When you peer into them, you confirm that it is. He’s not forcing you. You’re sure that if you rejected him now, he’d return to the way he was. He might fake being hurt, but he’d still visit you at your door. He’d still linger, still be there. He’s inviting you in on purpose. Dinner with his roommates is a less than casual affair - and nonsense for your relationship.

It’s a bad idea, and maybe a trap. You’re almost positive of that.

But if you did go - it’d confirm things. You’re positive of that too. You’d know for sure if you were being paranoid, if you went into that house that looks just two minutes away and saw the inside of it. You feel your heart pump through your body as the sun moves away from the clouds. There’s no longer a shadow cast on your face. Just pure, blinding heat.

You shield your eyes with your hand, all too conscious of the heat crawling up your back and the tightness forming in your stomach.

“Sure,” You reply, noncommittally - trying not to show too much of any one feeling. No advantages. But you feel like you’ve already lost. “I’ll see if I can make it,”

“See you then, neighbor,” He waves, finally turning to leave. “Looking forward to it.”

He’s true to his word on multiple fronts. Which. Doesn’t comfort you.

An official dinner invitation, and more importantly - sending out the other neighbors to come and meet you. He’s made a point of making good on both vaguely threatening promises.

Like your old living arrangements, you don’t go out of your way to talk to anyone here. You’re busier in the Shizuoka branch (though you like it there) and you find that there’s more daily upkeep with the new and improved space. Plus it’s mostly family folks and retired couples - no one you have any business speaking with for more than five minutes. So you’re not really going out of your way to socialize.

You never planned on being buddy-buddy with any of the people who live in the area, anyway. Acquainted and friendly at best.

But in these last few weeks, folks from all up and down the streets have arrived at your doorstep bearing all sorts of gifts. Fruits and desserts and other housewarming things they think you'd find helpful. They come so often even you have a hard time refusing them, though you’ve wormed your way out of any of them coming inside of your home or crossing far-past the threshold of the gate.

On the surface, they’re good folks like he described them to be. There’s no distrust to the conversation, nothing they want to wield against you.

But something's off. And isn’t that always the case here? You’re starting to feel like you’re repeating yourself. Stuck in a loop, some kind of odd deja vu.

It’s two things you notice. They’re both minor, but they bother you.

The first is the way they describe Hawks.

Nothing but good things. Which makes you sound like a bitch, even to yourself. But it’s weird. The kind of kindness that doesn’t feel real. Empty praises like a helium balloon. Last week one of your neighbors described him as benevolent and his wife agreed whole-heartedly. Each time you wonder if you’re thinking too much about it. Benevolent isn’t a word you’d use to describe anyone you like, no matter how well acquainted.

You know people as charismatic as him so you know that it’s something people do. He’s a good guy, but you don’t know him so you say empty, kind things. Still, it bothers you. And it’s like they say. A friend to everyone is a friend to no one.

It’s uncomfortable that no one shows any sign of disagreement about how kind he is. That there’s no hesitant glances or country gossip. That not one old lady has pulled you in for gossip and wine. There’s no character. No humanity.

It’s backwards but there’s too much harmony. In the people, in the weather, in the road - paved perfectly with no cracks. Everyday of June since moving in has been nothing but blue, cloudless skies. A bright vivid sun concentrated into one shape, heat casting the illusion of waves. No June rain to water the gardens or wash off the dusty roads. No lightning storms that send all the animals howling, no winds strong enough to dust a city into the sea.

It’s not nothingness. There’s something to that at least. If it felt abandoned, it might feel less unsettling. An abandoned place is a familiar one, a memory from your hometown. An abandoned place usually means that someone lived there before you. At least ghosts are the promises of people, even deceased.

Is there something more nonexistent than a ghost, while still being material? You don’t know what that would be.

Hollow but not empty - the skeleton of a suburb. Like something has been carved out of it and replaced. Unnatural, man-made. It never fails to make all the hair on your neck stand.

Then there is the other thing.

Well it’s a stretch. Even you can acknowledge that it might just be coincidence. But nothing here feels like sole coincidence except for the fact you’ve been unfortunate enough to end up here.

A lot of people in town have… injuries. Particular ones. The elderly couple up the street has a lost leg and missing pinky between the two of them. Of the few other people living alone here - all three of them have some type of it - a part of them completely gone. A lost eye or arm, or visible scars along their sides like something’s been … cut out of them.

You know how it sounds. Even to yourself, you’ll reprimand your imagination. It’s not something you can discern meaning from, not something to draw conclusions from. This is Japan, a Japanese suburb with little kids playing in fucking mud and wild strawberries and bushes of ivy.

Maybe the people who retire here are veterans, or maybe Hawks has some kind of charity.

Maybe it’s something not sinister, because what else could it really be?

You keep trying to convince yourself that this time it really is your paranoia. Because even if you examine that, try to unravel - what does it leave you with but more questions?

You want answers. Need them so you stop tossing and turning. But even if you’re to get answers, you aren’t sure if you could trust them. You trust your gut - yourself and only yourself.

You know something is wrong, but just how wrong do things get before the point of no return?

But you can’t help living here if something is wrong. As wrong as you think. If it doesn't go away, what then? What happens to you? Neighbors keep meeting you and people keep being injured and tight-lipped and hollow eyed. Something is always waiting for you in the dark.

You want to get ahead of it, no matter how fucking sick it makes you. You have to know or it'll swallow you up.

You just want to put the whole thing to rest, and get answers. You’d take fake ones to placate you if they were believable, you’d take anything to get your fucking mind off of it.

But the longer you stay, the longer you live at the edge of the road, the longer Hawks waves to you as he passes by your place - makes you feel like you can’t rest until you know.

You need to know for sure.

It rains.

The day he invites you over for dinner, just two minutes down the street - it rains. Harsh, July rain that sounds like it’s running against the ground. Thudding as it floods the streets and turns the Earth to mush. You couldn’t have expected it. It’d been sunny in the morning, but it’d all gone gray outside while in the office. And then it got darker and heavier, like nightfall early.

You were soaked on public transport on the way home, tracking mud into your front door as you walked along the grass back to your own home. You had enough time, at least - between getting home and going over to shower and sit down.

In the two hours of your arrival from the office and your invitation - you pretend for a while that none of it is happening. You read on your couch and pet the cat you didn’t adopt. You listen to music and pleasantly paint your nails up until you have to get ready, because you don’t really want to get ready.

You’re being dramatic. Or you’re not. But you don’t want to go. You don’t want to know what happens when you get there. You think about canceling. Taking a raincheck because of the weather. Feigning an illness for your not-cat.

Something is wrong with this place, and it’s bothering you. But you don’t know if you’re prepared to find out what.

You decide to go, because the other option is remaining in the dark. You could tell him that you want to reschedule, but just like you trust your gut on most things - you get a feeling this is the only window you’ll get to find out anything important. Like if you do it another day, you’ll get the same hollow facade as always.

So you dress yourself slowly. You take an umbrella, and lock your door shut. You even say goodbye to that cat that isn’t yours. You’ll make it back in one piece but something will change once you go. Both of these you believe with full conviction.

But you go. You go.

When you get outside, you open your umbrella up and put it over your head - walking out past your front gate and onto the sidewalk.

It’s not a lie that Hawks is the neighbor closest to you. He lives within walking distance, less than ten minutes from you. The neighborhood is more compact closer to his place, your own house being more isolated - the first house when cars turn the corner.

You don't know what the house looks properly, only what it's like vaguely in shape and color. On the walk there, it’s the only thing your eyes can focus on. You stare at it aimlessly as it comes into your vision line.

It’s obscenely big. You don’t know how many people are living inside for that to be the case, but it sticks out. Even in your time in the city, you’ve never seen a house that size just out in the open, so protruding. It feels invasive.

You feel something forming in your gut as you start to approach the gate. It doesn’t look so different to yours.

Clearing your throat, you approach.

In the clear distance is Hawks, in front of the open door like he’s waiting for you. It’s still light outside, but the weather makes everything dark. The warm light pouring out of the open door casting shadow onto the concrete above it. Hawks runs to meet you at the gate to open it, not bothering to grab something to cover himself with. The rain soaks his head, makes his hair fall a little flat.

There’s a girl waiting by the door with him, younger than you both - who’s looking at you with a wide smile. Her teeth are sharp like fangs. You can see them from afar, and better as you get closer.

Hawks is quick as he unlocks the latch for you. He pulls the gate back and ushers you with his hands on your waist. Instinctually - you hold out the umbrella to cover his head. He gives you a smile as he leads you through to the front of the house. The rain feels like it gets heavier as he does.

When you’re underneath cover, you’re rushed into the foyer of their place before you can think twice.

The door shuts behind you, the noise of the rain muffled. You miss it and you want to go outside again. You look at the door as it shuts, and the girl with him closes it and looks at you.

She’s cute. She has to be a student, but she looks nothing like Hawks. He walks over to her and pats her head.

“This is Toga. She’s the youngest of us. She won’t be joining us for dinner ‘cause she’s going to see her girlfriend, but she wanted to see the new neighbor.”

You give her a passive glance. She smiles at you.

“Nice to meet you, neighbor,” She drawls the end of the word, then looks you up and down. “Hawks keeps talking about you all the time,”

“Aw, c’mon now Himiko-chan, don’t embarrass me in front of our guest,” Is what he says, but he doesn’t look embarrassed at all. “Take your raincoat and umbrella. Say hi Uraraka-san for me,”

“Uh-huh, I will. Bye-bye,”

You watch her get dressed for the rain and turn to leave. The brief sound of the rain returns and you’re all but too aware of how much you want to turn back from whence you came.

Hawks takes your jacket for you. His voice guides you to putting your shoes in the rack, telling you where the house slippers are for guests.

You’re not particularly trying to listen, but you’re out of your own body. The muffled rain thunders, cries out - makes you jump in your own skin. Lightning flashes through the whole house.

He looks at you bemused. “Just a little rain,”

“Right,” You reply, itching to get control of yourself “Been such a clear summer, so it spooked me,”

“Are you off put easily?” Hawks asks. You close up your umbrella and hang it against a wall “You seem like it,”

You shake the water off your face and neck and shake your head. “Not particularly. Just not used to living here yet.”

He nods sagely. “You’ll get used to it. But enough out of me, I’m here to introduce you to my roommates. You’ll have to forgive their curiosity, especially Touya.”

Curiously, Hawks doesn’t proceed with his usual testimony and fair. He doesn’t tell you that they’re good people, like he normally does. Just smiles, coyly, and gestures you to the corner of the hall.

From the kitchen on the other end of the foyer, you can hear sizzling and cutting - something being hacked away with a butcher's knife. Hawks waves your thoughts away as you turn your head towards it. “That’s Kurogiri. He learned we were having guests so he took up cooking. He’s the best at it, and I’m pretty decent. Himiko too.”

“Oh, that’s kind. What are we having for dinner?”

He stops to look at you. He holds his stare too long.“Meat. With some sides and rice, of course. I think it’s steak but Kurogiri doesn’t like western sides. You eat meat, right? You mentioned wanting to barbecue,”

You hesitate. Something slips in his face, but it’s gone before you can catch it. You nod. “I uh do meat. I try not to lately, to save money.”

He laughs. “Well, we have plenty to go around. Please eat as much as you like,”

You frown at him.

“...Thanks for the offer,”

He doesn’t say anything more. Doesn’t make a punchy quip, or have a fresh joke like normal. Just nods aimlessly before giving you another familiar business smile.

“Lets not keep ‘em waiting,” Hawks offers, as he walks you into the basement. The darkness at the end of the stairwell puts a familiar gnawing in your stomach. “I’m sure they’ll want to meet you sooner, rather than later.”

They’re not what you expect.

His roommates. You’re expecting people like him. Metropolitan, overly friendly types. You’re expecting people he gets along with well, and some of them do.

But they’re nothing like Hawks at all, not even close.

Most of his roommates remind you of the kids living on the street during your life in the industrial districts. Rag-tag bunches who got in trouble with the law frequently, always in and out of the penal system.

Of his roommates, Shigaraki is the most antisocial. He doesn’t say anything when Hawks drags you to his room. Hawks doesn’t seem to be expecting anything either, but he does ask if the former will join you for dinner. Shigaraki looks you up and down, then laughs for the first time, and says not tonight. Hawks shrugs and moves on.

There’s Twice too, and he’s kind. Of them, you think he’s the nicest. He’s the closest with Toga. A bad past, he’s fond of Hawks (though you can’t be sure Hawk’s is fond of him.) Apparently he has some kind of condition and disorder, he tells you candidly - but he’s not unpleasant all the same. At the very least, he doesn’t offset some baser instinct to run far in the other direction.

You meet Magne, an older girl and another man who doesn’t tell you his full name. Hawks calls him Compress, but he introduces himself to you as Sako. He tells you he won’t join you all for dinner - holds your hand, places a kiss on the back of your palm as an apology. The gesture weirds you out, but you try to keep the peace.

Hawks tells you he’s a performer and you believe him.

The last person you meet is Touya.

Touya is interesting. He has thick scars along his face and neck, burn marks - but he’s got a handsome face. Hawks seems most hesitant to introduce you two, but they room together. You want to ask if that’s necessary, given that there’s so much space in the house but refrain.

When Touya greets you, his grip is casual and firm. He mostly seems disinterested, except when you’re in closer proximity to him.

Enough for him to flash you something pitiful. Something knowing, something… like he’s condescending you and pitying you all at once.

He’s the one, of all of them, that leers at you the most openly. He assesses you, polite in his introduction before turning to Hawks. They communicate something to each other wordlessly and you don’t like any of it. After whatever that had been, Touya simply turned to examine you, shrugging as he agrees to dinner and slinking back down into his room.

After a while, you go back downstairs. Hawks doesn’t tell you anything about his living space. Just sits you in a living room and chats with you until dinner is ready. Chats hollowly about the same pointless dialogue fodder he always does. He stares at you with each word, and you try your best to ignore the shivering it incites.

He’s relaxed with the charade here, but he keeps it up exceptionally well irregardless.

Nothing is strange in a way that makes all of it strange. The rain pounds against every window like it’s begging to be inside and the doors sometimes shake when thunder claps. But nothing is wrong in a way you can prove. His roommates are nothing like you thought they’d be, and only serve to prove that you know even less about him than you might’ve assumed.

He’s quick, on all fronts, to brush over any questions.

Whatever you want to know about, Hawks won’t let you. But it’s not out of secrecy. If he could tell you to be patient without spoiling your little game, you’re sure he would.

The pit of your stomach only grows heavier as the evening continues. Even though he hasn’t done anything to warrant your increasing distrust. Nothing feels as it seems.

It’s nearly eight o’clock when Kurogiri calls you all to have dinner.

Hawks send you into the dining room alone.

The walk into the dining room feels like it goes on forever. The hallway remains dark. At the end of the tunnel is a kitchen. A brightly lit dining room with warm lights and a table that seats many people. On the table, there's a bottle of sake and glasses. A pitcher of water with lemons cut into it, and plenty of sides.

On display though is meat. A lot of meat. Meat you can’t identify any one way, and that doesn’t smell like any other meat you’ve ever had. Hawks mentioned steak, and you can’t be sure it’s not that. It just doesn’t look like it from this distance.

The tables are all set-out, and there’s a steak on each plate.

Kurogiri is polite when he greets you.

“Oh,” He says, thinking to himself. “You must be the guest. Sit here. Keigo insisted I sit you next to him,”

You’re startled, but nod your head. “Nice to meet you, Kurogiri-san,”

He shakes his head. “The pleasure is all mine,”

You sit at the far end of the table, and let Kurogiri pour you a glass of water. The rest of the housemates start coming into the kitchen. Magne, and Twice, and Touya mostly - along with Hawks at the tail end. He comes around the redwood table to join you. He sits at the very head while everyone sits in what seems to be their own assigned seats. Touya sits directly to your right. Kurogiri sits at the opposite end of the table, glancing at Hawks.

“Master Shigaraki won’t be joining us?”

Hawks shakes his head. “Said he wasn’t. You can always bring him something to eat.I can take care of your guest.”

Kurogiri pauses, then looks at you. He shakes his head. “Just be careful, Hawks.”

“Have some faith in my hosting skills, Kurogiri,”

You watch on in silence as Kurogiri fixes things in a tupperware. Master Shigaraki?

“Sorry about the delay!” Hawks offers, all of a sudden. You look at the plate in front of you, and all the bowls alongside it before looking back towards Hawks. “Thanks for joining us for dinner. Please eat as much as you like and consider this our formal welcome to the neighborhood,”

Touya laughs hard beside you. “Laying it on thick aren’t you, Keigo?”

He replies in his unflinchingly calm voice. Touya must really get under his skin though, because you can hear his demeanor crack just barely. “Just being welcoming. Wouldn’t kill you to take a page out of my book, I don’t think,”

“Enough bickering,” He supplements, throwing his hands up. “Let’s eat,”

There’s a resounding itadakimasu around the table before the sound of cutlery begins to scrape against the ceramic plates alike.

For the first time all night, you check into your body and stare down at the plate in front of you. It feels like all your blood is rushing to your ears. Your heart pounds, blood thrumming through your nerves as you examine the plate. There’s a cut of meat on it, tender with herbs - and a side of rice and pickled vegetables. The ceramic plate it’s on is red, a deep sort of maroon. Painted birds decorate the sides along with thin leaves and branches. The other cutlery is nice. Heavy stuff, nothing cheap. Even the chopsticks have good weight.

You feel out of body as your hand reaches for them, swallowing thickly and not looking up at anyone for any reason. From the corner of your eye, you see Touya who seems to be watching your every move. Hawks doesn’t pay you any mind. You wonder why he’s doing so deliberately.

You use a spoon to help pick up rice. You eat the vegetables plain. It hurts to chew and swallow even though none of it’s dry. The lemon water you drink from the cold glass cup doesn’t soothe your throat.

The blonde glances at you. He reaches towards the sake bottle and cups circling the centerpiece of the decor and hands you a glass. “This’ll warm you you,”

You look at him, and briefly at his plate. He hasn’t touched the meat yet. You take the glass from him and sip in long drinks until you reach the bottom.

But the feeling doesn’t leave you. You wonder if you’re imagining it.

It’s meat. Beef, from what they tell you. You look up to see Twice across the table, tearing into the flesh with his teeth - and something inside your gut churns hard. Your focus is unbreaking as you see it. Teeth sinking into flesh. The outside a golden brown but the inside raw and red, fatty and bleeding. Twice’s plate pools with what looks like blood. Steaks bleed, you know that.

And everyone is eating comfortably, like nothing is wrong. Except Hawks. He has yet to cut into anything. He mimics you. He’s waiting for you to eat first.

“You should eat first,” He goes as far as telling you. His smile gleams. Pearlescent white teeth, golden yellow eyes, blackness in his pupils like oblivion. “Feels a little rude as the host.”

Fuck. Something is wrong. It’s screaming at you. The sound of scraping and chewing and swallowing becomes a cacophony as it grates on your mind. You try your best to be unaffected and drink more sake. You keep your voice calm.

You won’t panic. You can’t panic. You steel yourself.

“No no, please - go ahead. I’m a little tired so I don’t feel like chewing, is all. It’s fine, I promise.” You offer, then stare at him. “Eat.”

He looks at you surprised, and Touya laughs besides you.

He shrugs though, and eats. Unconcerned with you, with refined manners and well practiced etiquette. Hawks is polite when he eats.

He cuts through the thick hunk of meat with a sharpened knife in precise, even squares. He’s an expert at it. You watch as the outside cuts open. Underneath the brown is tender red. Bleeding red. It’s practically raw on the inside, blood spilling out from the open slices. It has that soft texture of raw meat. Hawks uses his chopsticks to grab the piece, and it yields underneath the pressure - squished between the ends.

You watch as he chews it. You watch carefully.

There’s delight in the act of eating. He savors when he chews, slow and deliberate and when he swallows - he seems especially pleased. His expression changes after the first few bites, repeating it over and over. You feel bile rise in your throat.

“It’s good you know,” Hawks hums, looking at you so deeply you feel suffocated. Flying close to the ground to pin you right when you’re least expecting, how typical. It’s so like him it makes you sick. “You should give it a try,”

You clear your throat.

“I will. I uh, I do need to use the restroom though.” You say quickly, trying not to heave. “Where would that be?”

Touya snorts. “Down the hall on your left.”

Before he can get a word in edgewise - you bolt. You nearly knock the dining chair over with how swift you carry yourself on your legs. You run, speeding off towards the bathroom. Grabbing the handle you nearly slam the door as you hurry yourself inside.

Your chest feels tight as a sense of nausea overwhelms you, mixed with some morbid sense of relief. You were right. You were right about everything.

They’re taking body parts - this much you’re sure of. You can think of what they do with them. Selling them is a lucrative business. But eating them? It’s a level of depravity so far beyond your scope - you can’t help but feel nauseated.

Your hands grip the linoleum sink as the fluorescent lights of the bathroom flicker overhead. Your complexion has gone pale with disgust. Your stomach feels especially tight, soured. It’s almost painful how sick you are. Sweat drips along your back and into your shirt - all down the crown of your head. White knuckling the edge of the sink, you stare into the linoleum and take deep breaths trying not to fucking puke.

You’re in too deep. You were weeks ago. Maybe the minute you clocked that something was wrong about him, like you’ve seen past a carefully set-up illusion.

By rights of the illusionist, it’s only inevitable that he comes after you. You either die with his secret or become part of his magic act.

You don’t know which things he wants more.

By the time you steady your breathing at all, you hear the bathroom door click open behind you.

You nearly scream.

Hawks closes the door behind him. The enclosed space of the bathroom makes your chest ache, as you back into the sink. He looks calm. You ready yourself to run.

His eyes no longer shine. They’re almost dull, copper in color as he stares at you with a lazed smile. It’s like the mask has all but shattered. Leaving you two in this cramped, airless, stale room. Your stomach clenches, muscles tight with adrenaline. You think of all the ways out, but Hawks leans his weight on the door to keep you from running.

“Relax,” He offers, no longer pretending. “I won’t hurt you. And you’d rather not get the attention of my housemates, I’m guessing,”

“What the fuck is wrong with you? You fucking—you eat people?”

He smiles. “You know, it’s pretty clever of you to figure it out. Most folks here are too stupid to see through it, but you noticed right away. I was really interested in that when we first met,”

He stands up straight, readying himself to approach you.

“Stay the fuck away from me,”

He leans against the door and puts his hands up, but not because he’s trying to appear unthreatening.

“It’s a good gig. Cheap property, more people move in, more business. When someone proves loyalty, they get a cheap mortgage and live for a small price. Up until now, no one just moving has been able to get out of it. Except for the family before yours. Still feel sorry about that one.”

The dread that washes over nearly has you throwing up. You dry heave. Hawks smile only grows.

“But you noticed right away, which was interesting. So I started getting intrigued by you. I wondered how far you’d go to find things out, and it was farther than I expected. It’s good to be clever,” Hawks offers. He steps closer to you this time and you go to defend yourself, grabbing something from the counter to hit him with. You find nothing. “Not so good to be nosy. But you couldn’t help yourself, huh? I like the spunk, at least.”

“You’re a monster,” You say and you mean it.

“It’s a house full of them. I’m just the spokesperson. And this is a lucrative business practice. My colleagues aren’t the social type, so I handle all the HR. I can’t have some newbie who just moved in fucking the protocol,” Hawks hums, tilting his head at you. “In a way I’m helping you,”

“Helping me? How in the fuck are you helping me?”

It’s a swift movement where Hawks pins you. You go to move, to hit him - to scream. But Hawks is fast. He’s strong, and completely swift - and when he grabs you to pin you to the sink, you’ve never felt more completely helpless in your life. You bite his hand, but he looks at you steadily. Cold.

“No one will help you even if you scream, so don’t scream,” Hawks reprimands, almost bored. “Cops don’t come here anyways. I would know.”

He pulls his hand away from you.

“What do you want from me?”

Hawks looks surprised then laughs.

Before you can protest any further, you feel the grip on your arms and body tighten painfully. Hawks ducks his head down against your throat, and in one motion bites. He bites hard. You can feel it break the skin, and that time you scream. You pull away, but his teeth scrape and scrape and scrape till you’re bleeding.

He sucks the blood and licks the flesh, like someone might eat bone marrow from a carcass. You can feel it then. He’d devour you into nothing if he could - while you’re still all pieced together. You look at his mouth when he pulls away, covered in your blood. Some of the skin he’s taken off, just barely. Your whole body feels feeble as he goes again to lick up and clean the sensitive wound.

Your knees feel weak as he pulls away. Your blood is on his mouth. There’s surely more on his hands. You feel sick all over again. You’re gonna throw up.

“It’s simple what I want,” Hawk’s says, and then narrows his eyes at you “I like to play with my food before I eat it,”

Your eyes narrow.

“There’s no way I’d let myself wait around here to be killed.”

“Who said anything about killing, stranger? Just eating. It’s good practice to eat. We’ll eat together. We’ll eat each other. It’s romantic, don’t you think?” Hawks hums, hugging you to him. And it’s like you’re seeing him for the first time, for exactly what he really is. “Eating together is a basic facet of a healthy connection.”

“A healthy connection? You’re insane.”

He shakes his head.

“I’m in like. Different things.”

You try again to pull away, but remain stone still in his arms. For now, there’s no escaping. But you thrash and thrash and thrash. It comforts you.

“I’ll never take it lying down.” You tell him, as seriously as you can.

He gives you a smile. It’s pearly white. It’s unnerving. It’s genuine. Your heart feels heavy as the weight and implications all sink in. Oh, he’ll chase you - if it means getting to eat you alive.

Thunder strikes the house. The walls shake. July is unwelcoming and gloomy.

But Hawks’ eyes shine yellow gold like a false sin as he looks down at you in awe.

“I’m looking forward to it, neighbor.”

#cannibalism cw #noncon cw #yandere cw #hawks x reader #bnha x reader #writing tag #sorry if there are . still errors

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cockdestroyer32 · 1 year

Text

all mine

tangerine x fem!reader

word count: 2304

summary: after the events in the bullet train in tokyo, you and ladybug have a new job in a new place, unfortunately, you're not alone.

a/n: okay so in this reader's codename is sarin. and you're besties w ladybug bc I lov him. title is from brent faiyaz's 'all mine' which has nothing to do with this fic but I didn't know what to name this and I rlly love that song so. also no smut in this.

When I grow up, I wanna be famous I wanna be a star, I wanna be in movies, when I grow up I wanna see the world, drive nice cars, I wanna have groupies.

The song blew out of the car’s speakers, and both you and Ladybug sang each word perfectly (and very obnoxiously, you were practically yelling out the lyrics.) He drove and you sat in the passenger seat, you both swinging your arms around dancing tirelessly as the citizens of Greece who were able to spy inside the moving car judged your shameless partying. You hadn’t seen Ladybug in months, so when you found out you were finally going to be assigned to a mission together again, you both beamed, and got together to plan your entire trip from the cities of New York to the city of Larissa. You went from cackling a little too loudly at comedy movies on the plane, to endless chatter at the airport, to listening to your iconic super duper awesome 2000s hits playlist on a rented Jeep (the playlist title was Ladybug’s decision.) There’s no one you’d rather work with. Except…you weren’t working alone tonight.

This hit wasn’t just any hit, it was a stakeout. So, Lemon and Tangerine were called.

You had walked into Tangerine a few times before; New Zealand, Cuba, Romania, and Tokyo, of course. You’d been the longest with him while in Tokyo, when you had to team up because of a lost briefcase. He was incredibly irritating and the different ways you both did your job clashed immensely, but by the end of the night you two had worked frustratingly well together.

You’d never met Lemon before though, you hoped to God he wasn’t just a Tangerine 2.

“Oh, boo!” Ladybug starts and you join him when you look up.

“Booo!” You yell out at the warehouse as if it’s just told some awful joke at a stand-up show.

The building has the same architectural creativity as a cardboard box. Except that instead of brown, it’s grey and dirty, and instead of holding a gift you just spent the last days waiting anxiously to arrive at your home, it just holds the next gruesome hours you’ll spend planning your hit.

You and Ladybug allow The Pussycat Dolls to finish the last few seconds of their song and turn off BlueTooth before you can be sad about not singing Britney.

You sigh and say, “It’s gonna be a long night.”

“Yep, but the sooner we do it sooner we’re done. Come on, let’s meet the fruit duet.” You chuckle.

The warehouse acted as a lighthouse, the nighttime a sea of nothingness. You can spot the remnants of the trucks that passed by in this area marked in the muddy ground. Tonight smells of wet grass and fancy dinner parties, the ones you should be in right now.

You enter the warehouse, the night’s cold air vanishes and it shifts to a warm, still atmosphere. You take off your coat. Tangerine and two other men are already in the room. Even at such a dead spot in town, Tangerine is still dressed elegantly, sporting a blue striped suit that fitted him perfectly, and smelling of rich men’s perfume. You often wondered if he could fight in those suits. Although you loved a good luxurious suit—God knows your blood money could buy one, your closet was full of Versace, Vivienne Westwood, Dolce & Gabbana and Burberry—you preferred to wear more tactical outfits for the job, you know, in case someone fucked something up and everything went to shit.

“That’s Lemon, by the way.” Ladybug whispers to you, while pointing his head to the man standing in front of Tangerine.

“What? I thought they were supposed to be twins,” Ladybug shrugs.

“Um, I hope we’re not late…you’re Lemon I suppose?” You pretend like Ladybug didn’t just tell you and offer a handshake. He takes it.

“That’s right, and you’re...”

“Sarin.”

You look over to his brother.

“Tangerine.” A nod, no handshake.

“Sarin.”

“You’ve met Ladybug.” You say to the two brothers.

“Yes, we had the pleasure.” The taller man doesn’t hide the sarcasm.

“Accommodating as always, Tangerine.”

“So, shall we?” Says the other man in the room, the one who was managing this whole thing, and you all follow him.

He takes you to a desk where there lie multiple files on different workers and a big map layout of the warehouse. The man shows all of you the place, discussing what approach the team should take for the mission, at what time each one should arrive at the building, the shift times of each warehouse worker, the spots each one should be in…and so on and so forth. Time passes relatively quickly, demanding you and Ladybug a secret high-five, and you all turn to look at the man who’d organized this.

“Yeah. That’s it.” The man repeats.

“Yeah.” You agree, still looking at him.

“You can go home now.” He practically demands.

“Uhh, I’m pretty sure we’re supposed to get paid now,” Lemon adds.

“You’ll get paid after you get the job done.”

“Did you not get the memo lad? We get first half now and second half after the job is done.” Tangerine said.

“Yeah, we’re supposed to get paid now, didn’t our handler message you?” You asked honestly.

“Well I didn’t bring the money, so what do you want me to do?”

“I don’t know, but we’re getting paid.” Tangerine insisted.

“There are lots of ATMs in Larissa…” Ladybug spoke. The man mutters some curse word under his breath,

“Fine. I’ll get you your fucking money, but you’re gonna have to wait.” He disappears from sight, making his way up the stairs in the corner of the building.

“Damn, what a Gordon.” Lemon remarks.

“Thomas the Tank Engine?” You ask.

“Yeah.”

“Nah, I think he’s more of a James, just super cocky.”

“Oh my God, there’s two of them.” Tangerine sighs.

“I’m gonna go get some air.” You say.

With your coat in hand, you make your way to a backdoor on the side of the warehouse. Slipping the garment on as soon as you open it, the chilly air cutting through your skin. You slide your hand into one of the coat pockets, finding a small rectangular box and a smooth metallic item. You fish one of the cigarettes out of the box and light it, inhaling the nicotine, warming your body while letting yourself freeze in the moment. You were so far out of town that you couldn’t hear any of the cars, any of the people in Larissa, your team also seemed to be particularly quiet inside the building. Here, it was silent, save for crickets chirping in the vast nothingness that was the field at nighttime. Tomorrow it’d be full of people, receiving and delivering new packages, trucks coming and going and workers arguing amongst each other, all their chatter overlapping, sounds of life, until you all arrive and the sounds of an active workplace morph into that of an action movie, slashing and yelling (no guns, this was supposed to be a somewhat subtle and more practical job) and then, nothing. The building once again ghost quiet, but this time painted red.

It didn’t bother you. You’d been in this business for way too long to be perturbed by the sounds of the dead now. You knew what you were getting yourself into from the beginning, this is no bombshell. Although the still of a city that’s beginning to fall asleep is much better than one that had its commotion ripped away from it. So you took these quiet moments you had to yourself and held them tightly in your hand, like some old trinket gifted to you by someone special. And for a few moments, as you exhaled the smoke out of your body, you felt outside of space and time, frozen in the moment, your feet planted on the ground, scared that if you move even an inch, you’ll fall off the face of the earth. You melt off the moment when you feel a pair of eyes on you.

Tangerine stands by the back door on your right, looking at you. You’re not sure how long he’s been there, but he has a calm look on his face, a smile on his eyes but not on his lips, by far much different than all of the ticked-off facial expressions you’d seen on him before.

“The fuck are you looking at?” You tease.

“Geez. I’ve just come to get some air.” He walks in your direction. You offer him your cigarette, he takes it. You two breathe together for a while before you ask,

“Do you like this?”

“What? Jobs in the middle of nowhere handled by some fucking dickhead who can’t even pay us right?”

“No. This.” You look around, motioning slightly to your surroundings, “The quiet. We don’t get a lot of it in our job.”

“I suppose we don’t,” He passes the cigarette back to you. “It is kinda nice, I can hear my thoughts for once, don’t have to listen to Lemon yapping about.”

You snort. “He’s nice. I was scared he was gonna be like you.”

“What? I’m nice.”

You stare at him.

“How am I not nice?” He continues.

“How are you not nice? Okay let’s see, you’re impatient, you’re always irritated, you look like you’re constantly on the edge of throwing a fit, you’re always cursing people out and you always got that look on your face of a teen girl who just got her phone taken away by her parents.”

He takes this in for a second, surprised at the speed of your answer, as if you’d been waiting for this moment for a while, and maybe you were.

“Hm…still think I’m nice.” He adds, you smile to yourself, nodding your head in fake disbelief.

You can feel his eyes on you, even as you take another puff on your cigarette and stare at the darkness. You don’t look back, refusing to give him the satisfaction.

“S, Fruit, guy’s back.” Ladybug pops out of the door, and you follow him back into the building, followed then by Tangerine.

The man now holds bags of money, one for you and Ladybug, and one for Lemon and Tangerine. You finally leave the warehouse, each of you making your way to your hotel rooms. And you would’ve been able to wash the night off your body and rest on the hotel’s comfy bed, if it wasn’t for the misplaced amounts of money. See, your bag and Ladybug’s held only his share, not yours. Thankfully, it wasn’t some scam, your money was placed along with Lemon and Tangerine’s. So, now you’re going up an elevator to Tangerine’s room to get your share. You knock on 215 and he opens the door.

“Hey.”

“Hey, come in.” You walk into the room, but only close the door slightly, not shutting it, and you stand next to it, ready to just get your money and leave, not expecting to stay here any longer than you have to. He goes to the back of the room and brings back a bag, “Here.”

“Thanks,” You spy inside the room, the place is quiet, most of the lights are off and it holds only one bed. “Is Lemon not here?”

“No, different hotel, leave no trail and such.”

“Oh.” You’re genuinely surprised. Shit, that’s smart, perhaps you and Ladybug aren’t as great professionals as you thought you were—even if the bar when you two worked together was already pretty low.

“What? Is me delivering your money instead that bad?”

You snort. “No, no, that I don’t mind.”

You look at each other for a second, perhaps you should be on your way-

“Are you staying in Greece after the job?”

“Uh, no. Me and Ladybug are going back to New York right after.”

“Oh.” He looks down, the expression on his face something you can’t quite read. “Are you and Ladybug…”

“No! God, no!” You almost yell. “No, he’s my best friend.”

“Oh, right.”

“Why?”

“Just…curious.”

Hm. Curious.

You stare at each other again, a smile on your eyes but not on your lips.

“Okay, I should get going.” You start opening the door to leave.

“Wait,” He says, grabbing your arm. “I think…you should stay here the night.”

The smile reaches your lips, amused. “Why?”

“You know, you could just stay here the night, if you want…”

“Okay but, why?” You tease. He furrows his brows. “I’m sorry Tangerine, I just don’t know what you’re telling me.” Your words are of someone genuinely confused, but your face and tone tell a different story. He catches on and sighs.

“I’m just saying…you could spend the night here, with me.”

You click your tongue, “Tangerine…you have to speak clearly.”

He squeezes your arm, and approaches his face to yours, changing his tone, “Sarin. I want you to stay. I want you.”

You let your lips fully curve up this time, pleased.

You put both your hands on his face, and close the space between you, only placing a light kiss on his lips, then pulling away to see his reaction. He keeps his eyes shut for a moment, as if still in the moment. Then, he opens his eyes, staring at you for a second, and pulls you in for a stronger kiss. His hands at first cupping your face, then one makes his way towards you back, pulling you in closer, even though you were already as close as you could possibly be right now. You shut the door with your foot behind you, not letting each other go for even one second. Tonight your own bed’s gonna have to wait for you.

#bullet train fanfic #tangerine bullet train #bullet train tangerine #tangerine #tangerine fanfic #tangerine fic #tangerine fanfiction #tangerine x you #tangerine x fem!reader #aaron taylor johnson #bullet train #tangerine x reader

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bashamichiroom · 1 year

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The Kimura Heights 102 apartment is a foreigner-friendly 1DK studio apartment with 23.10 m² of space, built in 1986, located in Hino, Tokyo, and is within a 6-minute walk of Tama-Dobutsukoen Station on the Keio Line near Meisei University and Teikyo University. Cost is ¥35,500/month. Contact Bashamichi Room to schedule a viewing.

Details: https://www.bashamichi-room.com/rent/1r1k-rental/kimura-heights-1-2

#rental apartment in Tokyo #rental flat in Tokyo #foreigner housing in Tokyo #rental studio in Tokyo #rental property in Tokyo #home for rent in Tokyo #foreigner-friendly real estate agency #English-speaking real estate agency #Bashamichi Room #Meisei University housing #Teikyo University housing #student housing #student apartment #student flat

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kiwanopie · 1 year

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Biggest Fan

boyfriend!kiyoomi part VI! one (1) instance of suggestion tooth rotting fluff. 1.3k

Belatedly, he realizes his request to have you move in with him may have been a little redundant.

You two traded keys within the twelve month mark in your relationship, by a year and a half were you coming back from your respective jobs to find the other somewhere cozied up in your respective flats. Fights didn’t really change much to the routine. Maybe a passive aggressive comment to clean your kitchen when he was too miffed at you to do it himself, a high protein lunch “Not!! made with love >:(!” But nothing could ever come between him and having his arms wrapped around you by nightfall. By year two, you were giving your clients the number to the fax at his place. Since ‘Why buy a new one when I’ve got a perfectly good one (that I just bought) at my apartment?”

Now, at year three - Full home office set up in his quaint little penthouse apartment, tenant parking spot, and a front office that signs his alerts with “To the recipients of…” He can’t really wrap his head around why you’re still paying rent at your old apartment? He knows you visit sometimes but hardly enough to keep paying for it. And even as he pads his socked feet around your modest living room, he finds it mostly bare save for a thrifted coffee table and a suede couch he’s fucked you on way too many times to count.

You push another box to him from the threshold of the hallway, another one that sounds a little glassy when he picks it up. “Seriously, what's in these?”

“Just two more of those, baby.” He hears you wheeze. “Then we’ll drop the keys off at the front desk.”

“Do you need any help?”

“Nu-uh.” You punctuate with a grunt.

Kiyoomi knits his brows at the box but turns his heel for the balcony anyway.

Although, maybe the decision to have you move in just yet was a little asinine. He’s been thinking of buying a house. One with a nice view of the stars and the city lights - right on the cusp of the rural area but not a full on road trip to the city; with a big lawn and grassy hedges, white picket fence, open windows, and a mailbox with your names on it.

Or name.

Kiyoomi almost drops the box when those October winds start to nip through his jacket. The falling sky promises something much colder as he tips his reddened nose to the clouds, and watches as they darken with rumbling rain.

It doesn’t take him but a few long strides to get back to the second level where you are, strenuously pushing the next much bigger box into the living room.

“Do you have a coat? It’s gonna start to rain soon.”

You sigh a little tiredly to yourself. “I’m already pretty heated up from all this moving, a little rain won’t hurt.”

“No, you’ll get sick.” Kiyoomi parries. “I’ll put you in my jacket then. I can just run to the car.”

“Nu-uh. I don’t want you to over exert yourself, Omi. You’ve got a game coming up, remember? If anyone shouldn’t be getting sick it’s you.”

You follow his movements as he bends for one of the boxes, avoiding the second much lighter one as you nudge it in his view. “Besides, I doubt it’ll start raining before we can drive back to Tokyo. Forecast says the storm will just miss us.”

Kiyoomi shorts you a glance that’s mostly concerned with the loaded box in front of him. “I- Angel, I still don’t want you to get sick. I can handle a little overwork. You, I very much doubt.”

“Ok, wow. What’s that supposed to- Oh wait, baby that one’s really heavy-“

He lifts it up like it’s nothing.

“Oh…” You gawp. “Right. Pro-athlete.”

Kiyoomi scoffs in favor of letting your astonished gape boost his ego. Though his eyes do catch on the little sliver of polished oak peeking through the box in his hands.

He tilts his head. “What’s this?”

- You break out in a full sweat.

“Uh- W-Wait, wait, baby don’t-“

He’s already swerving to the side to dodge you. Long muscled limbs suddenly too lithe to catch as he turns his shoulder to duck your attempts to stop him, and missing the way you moue at the realization that Christ, you forgot this guy was still somebody’s little brother.

Which means beside his usual indifferent candor, he evades your efforts to stop him from peaking inside with the kind of goading of someone used to slinking away with something he shouldn’t have. Even as you whine he half taunts at the way you try to get a hold of him. “What? What is-“

Kiyoomi nudges open the seal a little more. “Are these posters?”

“Omi-“

“Are these my posters?”

“Stop-“

“Have you been-“ He almost wants to laugh. You’re jumping. “Have you been collecting my posters? All this time?”

“Can you just-“

“Oh, you framed them too.”

“S-Stop it!”

Kiyoomi actually does laugh this time. Like, he actually laughs. And you know it’s supposed to be mean but it flutters out with such genuine mirth that it gives you butterflies. It makes you feel hot to the apples of your cheeks and punches you in the gut with the kind of love struck ardor that should’ve worn off over three years ago - but hasn’t. ~ He cards his eyes through the box. You watch him. But instead of horror or disgust, or worse the realization that his girlfriend might be a little lamer than he originally thought;

It’s pride. Honest to god delight that raises his lips over his teeth and turns his cheeks a little chubby. Zeal, and glee, and that kind of love struck ardor that should’ve worn off over three years ago -

But hasn’t. “Why have you been hiding these? We could’ve kept these next to all your stuff I keep.”

“All my…?”

“Your diploma, your board certificate, your license,” Kiyoomi absently taps his fingers against the box. Which as he does you all but stiffen at the realization. You figured he encouraged you to make copies because it was safer having a backup, and when you found them framed in his hallway later on you thought nothing of it. I mean, he has a lot of frames in his hallway. Family pictures, the Photo Booth reel from your first date, some miscellaneous pictures of his two siblings,

Your graduation picture, your first anniversary photo, the picture he made you take before your first day as a therapist-

Oh.

Kiyoomi gestures you forward as he starts the motion of walking to his car. “With the way you iced me out before we started dating I was worried you didn’t even like volleyball.”

“Of course I like volleyball?” If the little fan trinkets in the box you’re carrying should mean anything. “I’ve been to like all of your games?”

“Yeah, I know that now,”

He makes the motion of shimming his jacket down his shoulders as he carefully sits the box where the others are, easily lifting the final one out of your grasp as he passes it over; and the way his biceps pop out of his t-shirt makes you shudder when he lifts his arms to close the trunk.

His jacket is warm, it smells just like him. “But you were sure playing coy when we first got together.”

- You, again, break into a sweat.

The way your nose crinkles up in embarrassment is honestly enough to have him suppressing a smirk when he turns to you again. Albeit poorly. Seriously, this guy seems intent on teasing you into the mud today.

“Well!” You stammer. “Because-“

“Well, because!” Kiyoomi kisses you on the forehead as you gasp at the way he openly mocks you. “Shut up. You’re so cute it’s stupid.”

He pinches your cheeks when you rightfully pout at him. “And fix your face. It’ll get stuck like that.”

“When did you become such a bully?!”

“Somewhere between “Can you be my girlfriend?” and “I love you too.””

He titters a little as you grumble your way into the car.

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mrs-monaghan · 5 months

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HAPPY GCF IN TOKYO MONTH FOR US 🥳

It means they're dating for 6 years already!

What your theories about everything around this travel (them together in halloween, their shared room in the hotel, JK asking to date JM) ?.... 🤔

I think they were already dating before Tokyo. But that's when they decided to be committed to eo 1300%

As for the room, people can try to spin this till the cows come home but this was gay as fuck!

I mean....

2 straight men would never.... like ever. They would think it super weird. And if they're homophobic they would think it disgusting. The last thing a straight man wants to do is see their mate naked when he doesn't need/have to.

This is one of the gayest things Jikook have ever done. Hands down 🙌🏽 And they've done alot.

My theories are the same as everybody else's. JK planned the trip for Jimin. For them.

(Thanks @guacamoli-avocadorado)

From them admitting that that period was the hardest for them mentally. Thus implying they needed this trip. And yet, they decided to take it together

(Kinda brings u back to the present. Serving in the military aint easy. So they've decided to do it, together. Because they love each other, and have always been there for eo. So why should this be any different?)

To JK wishing Jimin a HBD and captioning it; its not over yet.

(@chicknbunny13 😘)

This to me cements the fact that the trip was for Jimin.

And of course this

youtube

And after that trip they came back closer and even tighter than before. I wasn't around for this but those that were, usually say there was a shift in the Jikook dynamic. More committed... like they were done playing games and shit. Which is why people believe Tokyo is when they decided to be boyfriends... officially. Of course anon, there is no way to know who asked who. We can only speculate. But I'm with u. My money is on JK. 🤭

Man. I love their love. And I love how spoilt Jimin is by his JK.... Tokyo... renting out a restaurant in Newyork... thats his baby y'all 🥺🥺

#jikook beyond the story #jikook tokyo #whipped jungkook #ask shaz #bts ask #jikook #kookmin #minkook #jimin and jungkook #jikook is real #if jikook isn't real then neither I'm i #bts #jimin #jungkook #spoilt jimin #jikook edit

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sunmoonjune · 2 years

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in their loving hands

pairing: gojo satoru x fem!reader x geto suguru (poly!)

warnings: minors dni!! blood, death, gore, cursing, possible sexual scenarios (no actual smut), mafia, fluff, minor angst and hurt/comfort, slowburn, mentions of cheating (reader is afraid of being a home wrecker), probably ooc gojo an geto tbh, insecurity, mentions of being followed/chased, reader is nearly attacked on more than one occasion

summary: mafia! single fathers/kindergarten teacher! au (this fic has so many tropes in it haha!!) found family!au for mother’s day anyone? You’re the sweet teacher to Nanako and Mimiko, the twin daughters of the two strongest mafia leaders in Japan. What happens when they set their sights on you?

word count: 18.8k

a/n: if this crashes on Tumblr, it’s also on my ao3! my username is the same as this one! listen... satosugu own my heart and I can’t handle their canon relationship so this is what happens - I write fluff to cope :( anyway this fic is basically just me self-inserting myself into satosugu with an extra side of found family with nanako and mimiko (they deserved better). lol enjoy! also ik gojo wasn’t really one of the girl’s father figures in canon, but shut up I love found family dynamics okay

ao3 link

It’s a cold, winter evening when you decide you need to move apartments.

The heat went out three nights ago, and you swear you’ve begun losing feeling in your toes. Curled into a tight ball under a mountain of blankets, you attempt to maintain as much body heat as possible. Your tiny, decrepit apartment isn’t in the nicest area of town, so the technicians won’t come to fix the heater for a few more days.

It’s practically falling apart at the seams - your place. The wallpaper is nearly peeling, the lights flicker when turned on and there’s always a wet smell lingering, no matter how many candles you light. In fact, you insist there’s mold in your run-down bathroom, but your landlord thinks you’re crazy.

You’d love to move.

In fact, you’d give anything for a nice apartment - no, even a decent apartment would do. Just one with working plumbing and working door locks would do. You could only imagine how nice it would be to not have to worry about a drunk neighbor accidentally barging through your front door in the early hours of the morning.

Sadly, you can only dream.

For now anyway.

A new apartment costs more than you can afford. The only reason you stay in this dingy apartment building is that it’s all you can sustain on a teacher’s salary. The price of rent in Japan is high, especially in the heart of Tokyo. As is, you’re lucky to be able to pay for your current apartment without a roommate or two.

Being a kindergarten teacher wasn’t the original plan, but it’s the one you fell in love with. You had gone to university under an engineering degree - outrageous, right? Somewhere along the line, you ended up working at a daycare on the weekends to help pay for classes.

It’s there that you fall in love with teaching. The kids all clambered over each other when you came in to work, crying out in excitement when their favorite caretaker finally arrived. They called out your name with wide smiles, holding up their arms in the hopes of being picked up.

During story time, there was often a struggle between the children to decide who got to sit in your lap. In fact, you’d often have to switch every few minutes to avoid the children's teary eyes.

You started looking forward to the weekends; waiting in anticipation for the gooey smiles and youthful, bright eyes of your group of children. It quickly became the favorite part of your week. Getting to see the wonder in their eyes whenever you showed them something new never ceased to bring a grin to your cheeks.

By the time you graduated, you had decided to return to school to get your teaching degree. Your parents had been furious. Why would you throw away a well paid career in engineering for a teaching job?

It was hard to explain.

When you first went into university, you’d picked your major based on what your parents had wanted. In high school, you were an amazing chemistry student. You enjoyed the science, and your parents encouraged this. A career in STEM would have made them proud, so you chose chemical engineering in the hopes of continuing their happiness. Besides, your brother had been an engineer. Everything you chose to do had to at least match his achievements, or else you'd just be falling short of his success.

Only after graduating, were you able to finally pursue something you were happy to do.

And being a kindergarten teacher truly did make you happy. Sure, it didn’t pay as well as an engineering job, but at least you were pursuing a career that you enjoyed. It was better than being stuck in a job you hated for the rest of your life.

Besides, the wide, bright smiles of your small group of students was usually worth the pain. Seeing the overjoyed grins and hearing their happy giggles as they worked together on an art project made your heart swell. Especially the elated laughter that came from a certain pink-haired boy.

Said child was currently seated in your lap, with a yellow crayon clutched in his fist as he drew on a piece of paper seated on the table before you. Yuuji had won the battle of rock, paper, scissors between him and Nobara, who had pouted fiercely after losing. Though before you could soothe the girl, Yuuji had squeezed her tight in a hug and promised to let her cuddle after he finished his drawing. Nobara faked a gag, pushing Yuuji away with a complaint of ‘cooties!’

Your heart squeezed at Yuuji’s generosity. Of course, you weren’t surprised - Yuuji was a bright kid with a father who raised him right.

Nanami Kento was a good friend of yours. The two of you grew up side by side, drawing in the dirt under the playground’s slide when the other kids didn’t want to play with you. You had always told Nanami he should play with the others, but he insisted on staying by your side. None of the other children wanted to play with the ‘weird, foreign kid’ who barely spoke Japanese. However, Nanami always stayed. He sat by your side and listened to your softly uttered stories of fantasy adventures you read in your books.

It was you who helped raise Yuuji alongside Nanami, after his wife passed away a few years back. Nanami had been devastated. Yuuji was too young to remember, but his mother had been sick for a long time. She’d never fully recovered after giving birth to him, and eventually passed away less than a year after.

Since Nanami worked a full time job to help provide for his son, you helped take care of Yuuji when you weren’t on campus for grad school. You spent most nights falling asleep with a children’s cartoon on the television, and a pink-haired toddler in your grasp. Nanami would come home to the two of you asleep on the couch. He’d pry his son away from your protective grasp, laying the boy to sleep in his own bed before gently waking you.

Most nights, you’d fall asleep in his spare bedroom after he insisted that you stay the night rather than walk back to your dorm in the dark.

It was no secret that Yuuji was one of your favorites. Though you kept it well hidden from the other children, Nanami could tell your honey-filled smiles were always a tad brighter for his son.

Though, there were two other students that were slowly climbing the ranks to become your favorite.

And their unreasonably attractive fathers had nothing to do with it, you swear.

Nanako and Mimiko were two sweet young girls who’d been introduced to your kindergarten class a few weeks late. They’d been nervous at first, clutching each other’s hands and hiding behind the legs of their long-haired father. You'd tried desperately not to stare at the gorgeous man before you, but his silky, dark hair and soft smile had immediately caught your eye. He was so tall, with wide shoulders and strong biceps wrapped under a tight, black dress shirt. You could have sworn you almost started drooling. The hint of ink under the sleeves had you aching to pull the shirt away from his skin, but you suppressed those provocative thoughts.

It was hardly appropriate to think those things in front of children, after all. Even so, he was a father of two of your students - probably in a relationship at that!

Shaking off the haze, you approached the man with Yuuji still in your arms. The boy had his arms wrapped around your neck as you sat propped up on your hip. He was starting to get too big to be held like this, but Yuuji insisted every time.

Setting Yuuji on the floor, you nudged him in the direction of Megumi, one of Yuuji’s closest friends. You smiled as you watched him race toward the darker haired boy, and let out a giggle as Megumi’s blank stare turned toward his friend. Despite the lack of emotion on his face, Megumi couldn’t stand to be away from his friend for long.

The man before you watched you gaze at your students. The fond smile on your lips had him allowing a soft one of his own to raise the corners of his lips.

When you turned back to the Adonis of a man before you, you greeted him softly. “Hello! Are you the father of the two new students?”

He stepped forward a little, difficult with the small, chubby fists grasping onto his pant legs. A little chuckle left his lips at their shy demeanor before he replied.

“I am.” Dear god, his voice nearly made you shiver. It was deep and coated in sugar. You wanted to drown in it, if that was even possible.

“Sorry for registering the girls late, by the way,” He continued. “They weren’t quite ready to take that step yet.”

You shake your head. “It’s alright! All children have different learning curves - I wouldn’t want to push them before they were ready.”

Geto’s eyes seem to soften even further.

“I’m Geto,” he provides, “Suguru Geto, and these are my girls: Nanako and Mimiko.”

He attempts to usher the girl’s out from behind his legs, but they stubbornly cling on. You smile, used to the cautious demeanor of some of the other students. Crouching down, you rest your weight on your toes and make yourself a bit smaller so as not to scare the new faces.

“Hello,” you softly utter. Your voice is hushed, just above a whisper but it’s filled with a sweetness Geto can’t quite describe. You introduce yourself to the two girls, softly uttering your name so both they, and Suguru, can hear.

“I’m going to be your teacher this year,” you happily provide. “I hope we’ll get along well!” The two young girls poke a head out from behind their father, and you almost giggle when a face appears from either side of his legs. It’s almost comical how in tune they are with each other.

“Twins?” You look up to Geto, who nods gently. You respond with a gentle hum, before shifting your attention back to the girls. They study you warily, with their small fists still clutching on to their father’s dress pants. The dark haired girl clutches a plush between the fingers of her other hand. Eyeing the plush, you shift tactics.

“Ah, Kuromi,” you gently motion to the plush. “I have one too!” You pull a keychain from your pocket, where you keep the keys for your classroom alongside those for your apartment. Attached to the keychain is a little My Melody plush, her pink character matching the black of the Kuromi plush between the girl’s fingers.

The girl’s eyes dart to the plush keychain, before they look back at her own. Her eyes are still a little worried, but your wide smile and gentle eyes coax her to move. She looks between her father and her sister once, before she shyly toddles on her feet. Slowly, she leans out from behind her father and drags her twin with her. The light-haired girl clutches her sister’s hand, eyes wide as they approach.

The dark-haired twin is the first to approach you. She reaches out when she stops at your feet. At your crouched height, you’re still taller than her, but she comes close to passing over your head. She gently grasps the keychain between her fingers, and you let her.

“We match!” You happily giggle. “See?”

You hold the keychain next to her plush, letting the characters bump together. “Two pieces of a puzzle!”

The girl lets out a soft giggle as you wiggle the plushies in your hands. It’s hesitant, but you can tell she’s warming up to you. Your heart squeezes at the notion.

“What's your name, Angel?”

She rocks on her heels, still a little shy but opens her mouth to respond anyway. “Mimiko,” she utters gently. Her tiny voice almost has you audibly cooing, but you settle for another warm smile instead.

Her twin sister wobbles next to Mimiko, so you turn your attention to her. She appears a little less shy, with bangs falling into her curious eyes and a shirt filled with bright red strawberries.

“And what about you, Pumpkin?” You address her. “What’s your name?”

“Nanako,” she quietly provides.

“Those are beautiful names!” You softly cheer. “I think you’ll fit right in with the others! I’ve been looking for two strong girls to help me out with the plushie closet. Do you think you can help me take care of them?”

Their eyes light up. With furious nods, they take another step forward. Quick agreements fall from their lips and you smile in victory. Standing from your crouched position, you hold your hands out for the girls to grab on to. Despite their previous hesitance, both girls reach to grab a hand and clutch a few of your fingers between theirs.

When you turn to face Geto again, you’re nearly taken aback by the sweet look on his face. He’s utterly smitten with how you treat his daughters. So gentle and kind, taking initiative to bring up their interests in order to help break them out of their shell. Geto swears he’s already falling. Not to mention, you were so breathtakingly beautiful. Suguru knows that Satoru is going to have a field day when he meets you.

Letting a shy smile of your own overtake your face, heat rises to your cheeks as you remember their gorgeous father.

“Thank you,” Geto utters earnestly. Not everyone would be so delicate with his girl’s shy demeanor. He can’t thank you enough.

“It’s nothing,” you answer. “They deserve to progress at their own pace. I’d never make them do something they don't want.” Geto can tell you mean it, sincerity filling your eyes with a stubbornness lingering behind them.

He nods before returning his attention to his daughters. He crouches this time, matching his daughter’s gazes as he muses, “Daddy’ll be back in a few hours, alright? Can you be good for your Sensei while m’gone?”

His voice is filled with sugar. The two girls nod strongly, letting go of your hands to rush forward to throw themselves into their fathers arms. His wide, strong arms come up to wrap around their little bodies. Pulling them into his chest, a grin on his lips, he presses a kiss to each of their cheeks before he stands. The girls return to your side, each taking a hand once more. You smile sweetly back down at them with a coo on your lips.

“Two o’clock, yeah?” Geto asks.

“Two o’clock,” you confirm the pick-up time.

“My partner might be the one picking them up, is that alright?”

Your heart sinks in your chest for a moment - of course he’s taken. A beautiful man like him - how could he be single? It was wishful thinking on your part anyway.

Shuddering off the lingering disappointment, you shake your head. “Not at all! What’s their name? I’d like to confirm they’re leaving with the proper person, of course.”

Geto hums, a throaty sound that rushes through your skin despite trying to hold it back. “Satoru Gojo. You can’t miss him - white hair, bright blue eyes. You’ll know him when you see him.”

He laughs as he finishes, which prompts you to let out a giggle at the description.

“Alright, I’ll let the other teachers know. Thank you for telling me!”

Geto nods in response. He sends a last look to the girls before he turns and heads back to his car - his nice car. The solid black Jaguar sits at the curb, the sunlight hitting the paint. Oh god, the thought of him driving that car does horrible things to your mind.

Shaking your head again, you curse yourself for thinking about a taken man like that.

Looking down at the girls, you giggle again at their wide eyes looking up at you.

“Okay! Who wants to watch a Disney movie while we start our next art project?”Their delightful squeals of agreement fill your ears as you head back towards the classroom with their hands clutching yours.

You think God must be trying to spite you.

First, they send one of the most attractive men you've ever seen to your classroom, stealing the breath straight from your lungs. Only to then reveal, that he was taken.

Then, this.

If Suguru Geto was an Adonis in human form, then this man had to be created by Aphrodite herself.

He stands leaned against another unreasonably attractive car. His white BMW is parked on the curb, his body leaned against it with a pair of round, black sunglasses covering his eyes. He’s here early, so he waits for a few minutes to pass before he heads up the walkway towards the school.

The voices of excited children reach his ears as he nears the courtyard. When he peeks around the corner, he’s met with the sight of you. You’re crouched in the center of a pile of toddlers, their bodies leaned over each other in an effort to get closer. There’s a grin on your lips as you animate the different voices from a children’s book in your grasp. Gojo is surprised to see that Nanako is sitting in your lap, her body turned outward so she can see the book you’re reading from. Her back is pressed against your chest, and your hands are wrapped around her waist so she doesn’t fall when she shifts. You’re holding onto the book in her lap, occasionally spinning it around to show pictures to the other students.

Nanako swings her feet as she listens, a habit Gojo knows she picked up from him. Instead of interrupting like he usually would to announce his presence, Gojo holds back - choosing to instead watch the scene before him a moment longer.

Geto had mentioned the pretty kindergarten teacher that had gone out of her way to make their daughters feel welcome, but Gojo had no idea he’d be this taken aback. The sunlight hits your features in a way that makes Gojo think you look like an angel, gracing the world with your light and kindness.

He lingers outside the courtyard, waiting for your story to finish before he enters. While he waits, Gojo recognizes a familiar face approaching the same school.

“Oi, oi - Nanami, Nanami!” Gojo cheers at the sight of his old friend. Nanami surpasses a roll of his eyes, used to his friend’s antics. He had forgotten he’d recommended your school to Gojo a few weeks back, when his elder had mentioned enrolling the girls in kindergarten.

At the commotion, you raise your head from the book. When you meet the gaze - well, glasses - of the tall, silver-haired at the gate, you’re once again stricken.

Seriously, where do these gorgeous men keep coming from? It feels like you’ve ripped a page from one of the romance mangas you read, and dropped yourself in as the main character.

He’s tall, is your first thought, probably taller than Geto. He's less broad, yet still incredibly toned. You can’t help running your eyes from head to toe, taking him in. Gojo isn’t impervious to the look, letting a barely concealed smirk rest on his features.

Sucking in a short gasp, you realize this must be Satoru Gojo as Geto had mentioned. God really must hate you - throwing these beautiful men at your feet, but not giving you a chance with any of them. Not that you were secure enough in your looks to approach them anyway.

Yuuji leaps to his feet from his position at your side, racing towards the gate with a cry of “Otousan!”

"Careful!” You call as Yuuji races towards his father. Nanami crouches in his suit, allowing the pink ball of energy to crash into him. A fond smile covers Nanami’s features, one that often isn’t seen by many.

You stand from the small chair you’ve been seated on, setting down the book and assuring the kids you’ll be back. Gathering Nanako and Mimiko’s hands, you help guide them towards the gate Yuuji had opened.

The girls follow wordlessly, already at ease in your presence; a feat that doesn’t go unnoticed by Gojo.

When you reach the gate, you smile as Yuuji has turned to address the white haired man with a cry of “Gojo-sensei!”

When Gojo replies with an equally excited “Yuuji-kun!” you start connecting dots. Nanami had mentioned his son taking jujutsu lessons from an old friend. After watching the last Olympics, Yuuji had taken an interest in the sport and Gojo had offered to show the kid the basics. Nanami was reluctant, but ultimately trusted Gojo to take care of his son.

You hadn’t realized Nanami was close to Gojo nor Geto, and you wonder why he hadn't mentioned them before.

When you reach the gate with the girls, Gojo shifts his attention from chatting excitedly with Yuuji. You can't see his eyes from behind his glasses, but even so, his gaze has your breath caught in your throat.

Talking to pretty people is hard.

“Ahh, you must be my Mochis’ pretty sensei,” Gojo sweetly hums. “Suguru mentioned you.”

At the thought of either man finding you attractive, heat rises to your cheeks and you awkwardly shift your gaze away.

“So you must be Gojo, then?” You question with hot skin and now sweaty palms. You hope the girls don’t notice.

A pleased hum leaves the tall man. “I am indeed.”

Nanami’s eyes shift from your form to Gojo’s. They narrow and scrutinize Gojo’s lax form and your wobbly knees. A heavy sigh leaves his lips as he shifts Yuuji onto his hip.

“Geto-san mentioned you might be here to pick up the girls.”

At their mention, the girls release your hands, shifting to move to their father’s side. Gojo audibly coos as he crouches to bring his toddlers into his arms. They each curl into one of his sides, and Nanako emits a “Yuck!” as Gojo presses a wet kiss to each of their cheeks.

You almost chuckle at the interaction. When Gojo stands, he has each girl on a hip, supporting their weight with a single hand each. You're mesmerized by his muscles, wondering how he could easily lift and carry two toddlers with no struggle.

Nanami’s cough interrupts your thoughts and you have to blink harshly to break your focus on Gojo’s pecs.

“Kento-kun,” you address your friend, “You didn’t tell me you know Gojo-san or Geto-san.”

A hum is heard from the blonde’s chest. “I wasn’t aware they would be enrolling the girls in your class,” he replies easily.

“Still,” you bump his empty hip with yours, “any friend of yours, is a friend of mine, Kento.”

Gojo watches your interaction with careful eyes, trying to understand your relationship with his former kouhai. Shifting his daughters’ weight on his hips, Gojo leans forward a bit.

“Yeah, Kento-kun~” Gojo mimics, “You didn’t tell me you had such cute friends.”

Nanami isn’t able to resist a roll of his eyes this time. A giggle is heard from you, and Gojo grins at his success.

“Don’t you have to get back to work, Gojo?” Nanami huffs, eager to end the conversation.

With a childish pout that causes Nanako and Mimiko to giggle, Gojo whines at Nanami’s rejection. Mimiko reaches out to press her finger against her father’s puffed cheeks, squealing when Gojo turns to nip at it. Nuzzling his nose into Mimiko’s, your heart fills with warmth as you watch father and daughter interact.

Nanako, clearly jealous, whines and pushes her hands against her father’s cheeks. She pulls Gojo away, rubbing her own forehead against his larger one. Gojo coos at her jealousy, leaving butterfly kisses on his other daughter.

After a moment, you manage to interrupt once their interaction is finished. “It was nice to meet you, Gojo-san! Thank you for trusting me with your daughters.” You incline your body into a small bow, which Gojo smiles at. You’re so soft and polite; he can see why Suguru has already taken interest.

“You too, Sweets!” Gojo replies, “Thank you for taking care of them!”

You incline your head again as Gojo turns to leave. Before he gets too far, Nanako and Mimiko lean over his shoulders, looking over at you.

“Bye, Sensei!” They call, waving their hands as they retreat. “See you tomorrow!”

You wave as they disappear into Gojo’s car, giggling at their behavior. Who would have thought the shy girls from that morning would open up so quickly?

When Gojo finally ducks into the car and it starts pulling away from the curb, Nanami turns to you. His features are completely neutral when he speaks.

“You want to fuck him, don’t you?”

“Nanami!”

You quickly cover Yuuji’s ears to shield them from his father’s vulgar language. “Not in front of the kids, Kento!” Yuuji’s confused eyes shift between your lips and his father’s, trying to decipher your words.

“You were eyeing him like a piece of meat.” Nanami says plainly.

“I was not!” You defend, hands still covering Yuuji’s ears. You stroke the boy’s hair in an effort to appear nonchalant, but you can’t believe Nanami caught you.

“I can only imagine how you eye-fucked Geto-san, if that’s how you were looking at Satoru.”

“Nanami - please!” You beg, eyes pleading for your friend to end your misery.

“Alright, alright.” He relents. “We’re not done with this conversation, though.”

“Oh, yes we are.”

A grunt is all that’s heard from your friend as you finally take your hands off Yuuji’s ears. The boy’s eyes are curious as they travel from his father to you and back. You can practically see the gears turning in his head as you run your fingers across your scalp in an agitated manner.

A beat of silence passes before Yuuji speaks.

“Otousan, what does ‘fuck’ mean?”

Over the next few weeks, you grow closer to both Gojo and Geto. Some days, only one of them is able to drop off and pick up their girls. Others, one picks up and one drops them off. On very rare days, the both of them are waiting at the gate of the courtyard.

These days are the hardest.

Not in a bad way, of course. No - they would never be bad. Instead, you find yourself having an incredibly difficult time making eye contact with either of them as they tower over you with gentle smirks. Well - Gojo’s face sported a smirk, while Geto’s eyes crinkled into half moons with a rare, genuine smile.

They should have been intimidating. In all manners of the word, they should be. Wearing black suits with luxury logos and driving fancy sports cars; Geto’s tattoos are often poking out of the edges of his clothing, and you’re sure Gojo is hiding a few as well. If you had been strangers, just their height would be enough to daunt you. But now that you’d gotten to know them, their towing figures only made obscene thoughts of other uses of such staggering height, race through your head.

More than once, you’ve caught yourself shaking the thoughts away. It was definitely not appropriate for a teacher to be thinking this of their students’ fathers. Especially fathers who were already in a relationship.

A relationship that’s quite obvious, you’ve discovered.

Gojo is not shy with his affection, often draping himself over Geto’s body when the two of them arrive at pick up times. You knew he never hid his affection for their daughters: pressing wet kisses to their cheeks and blowing raspberries on their bellies. But watching Gojo with Geto is different. Gojo’s silly side is still glaringly obvious, with the way he loudly boasts and tugs at Geto’s arms. It's in the softer moments - ones where the two don’t think anyone is watching - Gojo shows a softer side.

It’s in the glances the two share with each other as they watch the girls parade towards them, with stories about their day and their latest art project in their fists. Gojo is uncharacteristically soft for Geto.

It’s so hard to tell, going unnoticed by most, but Gojo’s muscles are relaxed around his partner. His actions are so much softer and his movements are easy-going. Genuine smiles seem to fall too easily from his lips when he watches Geto crouch to hoist his girls onto his hips.

Geto is no different. His shoulders are lax, when you often see them tense on their own. The darker, cold look that often covers his features when he’s alone, is replaced with a gentle, barely-there smile as he watches Gojo and their daughters. You don’t know of the similar look the two share when both their gazes settle on you, but there’s still plenty of time to share.

Their relationship is one you crave.

Not necessarily between them - though you’d give an arm and a leg to be between them. It’s their domesticity you long for. Relationships are hard, and you hate ‘the talking stage.’ You want to jump to a well-worn, practiced relationship, and skip the slow conversations and hesitance.

Though you can’t see his eyes, you know Gojo looks at Geto and their daughters like they’re his world. And you know they are.

God, what you’d give for a relationship like that.

Geto is always the first to bend to meet the girls, letting their little bodies crash into his wide chest. He lets out a hearty, genuine laugh as they squirm and rant about the activities they completed during class. Gojo always lets his partner go first, a fond smile on his face as he watches their interaction. When Geto stands, the girls turn to their other father, vibrant smiles transferring to him.

Gojo coos and squeezes their cheeks, pressing wet kisses on them as the girls squeal out protests. Geto’s soft eyes follow him, a look on his face you long to be the focus of.

On days like today, when the clouds are gray and rain is falling overhead, you escort the girls to their fathers with an umbrella guarding the three of you. Gojo and Geto are waiting by the car, a similar umbrella shielding the two of them. They’ve taken Geto’s car today, the black material blending in with the gloomy weather.

When you’re close enough, the two approach. Gojo holds the umbrella out so Geto can bend to grab Nanako and Mimiko. They’re the last to be picked up today, something that has become routine. Geto mentioned having to leave work to grab them from class, so you had offered to stay back and take care of them so the two men could finish work. You weren't sure where either of them worked, as they always played off the question when asked.

Most days, when class finished, you helped the other students to their parents. You give Yuuji a final tight hug and promise to see him in the morning, before you turn back to the twins. You often turn on a Disney movie, and sing and dance as you wait for their fathers to finish work. By the time the movie ends, it’s usually around their scheduled pick up time.

Today, you’ve planned to hang back at the classroom and finish up some paperwork before you head back to your own apartment. In a bad break of procrastination, you’d let assignments and projects pile up, and now you had a mountain of papers to file through.

You’re drawn from your misery to the sound of Geto’s deep voice.

“Are you headed home soon, Pretty? We can drop you off, if you’d like?”

Heat rose to your cheeks at the nickname. Geto had taken to calling you ‘Pretty,’ after Gojo had spilled that Geto had referred to you as such on the day you first met. You don’t think it means as much to him as it does you, but you relish in the sweetness of the nickname for as long as you can.

Shaking your head softly, you shift on your slowly damping sneakers. “No, S’alright. I’ve got some more work to finish up before I can head back.”

“We haven’t kept you have we?” Geto questions, worriedly. He’s standing now, a girl on each hip just as Gojo carries them. You’re once again stunned at their strength, watching the muscles in his forearms contract as he shifts Nanako around when she wiggles.

Rapidly shaking your head, you huff out a denial. “Even if you had, I love spending extra time with these troublemakers.”

You finish your exclamation with a gentle pinch of Mimiko’s cheek, stepping closer to Geto’s warm body to do so. The dark haired girl giggles, swatting at your hand with the one which isn’t clutched to her Kuromi plush. You pull away with a giggle of your own, playfully grabbing for Mimiko’s hand. Nanako, feeling jealous, lets out a squeal of her own and leans forward in Geto’s arms.

Geto moves to prevent her from falling, but you’ve already moved to grab the brunette girl. His heart thuds for a moment as he thinks his daughter may tip over. Your body slides in front of hers, letting Nanako’s weight rest against your chest when she finally falls forward. You brush your hand against Geto’s arms as you slide your hand underneath her thighs. Taking Nanako into your arms, with her body clinging to yours, you send a soft glance to Geto. ‘Sorry...’ your eyes apologize. You didn't think she’d pitch herself from her father’s arms to reach you. You shift her weight to rest against you, so you can hold her on your side while your other hand covers both of you with the umbrella.

Gojo continues to watch the interaction with a soft smile, eyes shifting from his daughters to the silent communication passed between his partner and you. His heart skips a beat at the interaction. The three of you already know each other so well in the span of only a month or two.

“Nanako-chan,” you hum. “You have to be more careful, I don’t want you to get hurt!”

You press the girl closer to your chest with the gentle scolding, swaying back and forth on your feet like a mother would. Gojo shares a long glance with Suguru at the motion. There’s something in their eyes you can’t quite decipher, but you know the two of them are sharing an intimate, wordless conversation.

From your arms, Nanako sticks her tongue out at her twin and giggles when Mimiko whines.

“Otousan!” Mimiko whines, “I want a hug from Pretty-Sensei too!” You assume the twins picked up the nickname from their long-haired father.

Another laugh falls from your lips, tossing your head back when Mimiko gently tugs on the loose hair from her father’s half bun. You shift your hip towards Gojo offering the brunette twin to her father, before opening your arms for Mimiko. She yelps in delight, swinging her arms around your neck as she moves into your arms. There’s a warmth slowly filling your heart as she squeezes you tight. It seeps into all the cracks and crevices that you hadn't known were there, and slowly starts pulling at the stitches. Tightening the strings and pulling pieces back together, the love the twins have for you will never be replaced by another.

Geto leans into Gojo’s side, humming when Gojo presses a kiss to his temple. They watch as you rub your nose against Mimiko’s with a grin. Whispering amongst yourselves, Geto watches Mimiko squeeze her eyes shut into little half moons and pat your cheeks with her hands as she giggles. He deposits Nanako in Gojo’s arms with a fond sigh and brushes Gojo’s hair away from his eyes.

When the two of you finish giggling, Gojo calls out to his dark-haired daughter, “Alright, Mochi - your sensei has work to finish, so we have to leave now.”

Mimiko frowns, huffing out a sigh as she turns to her fathers. “It’s alright, Mimiko-chan! We’ll have plenty of fun together tomorrow, remember?”

The girl nods firmly as her eyes sparkle. She nuzzles into your chest once more, causing another bout of warmth to sweep over you. Then, she wiggles until you set her down onto the concrete beneath you. Mimiko runs on her chubby legs towards Geto, who swoops down once more to pick her up.

“You’re sure you don’t want a ride, Pretty?” Geto muses as he turns to you once more.

Gojo hums in agreement. “It can be dangerous walking around here, ‘specially at night. Y’gonna be okay getting home on your own later, Sweets?”

Another wave of heat rises to your ears and a shiver runs down your spine as both men lower their gazes to you. You almost forget you’re standing in front of your classroom for a moment.

“S’alright!” You grin. “I’ll probably take a train home in an hour or two, so you don't have to worry.” You’re more than flattered that they worry about you at all.

Gojo and Geto share a knowing look, an agreement passing between themselves. They know about the kinds of people that roam this area at night. It might be a grade school by day, but all sorts of unsavory people stalk the streets after dusk.

Geto huffs out a sigh, not so different from his daughter. “Fine - but you have to promise to text one of us when you make it back safe, okay?”

Gojo nods firmly in agreement, another lazy grin on his cheeks. It’s one that you see often, but it never fails to make you smile along with him. The three of you had exchanged numbers a few weeks ago, after you agreed to take care of the girls after hours. Gojo had immediately added you to a group chat that both men periodically spammed you in. You didn’t mind though. It was the first time you’d had close friends since you and Nanami met over twenty years ago.

Well, you guess your friendship with Nanami is filled with far less tension than the one you have with the boys. You’re sure the tension is one-sided, as Geto and Gojo are already in a committed relationship. Besides, you can’t imagine yourself being the one who breaks them apart. You’re many things - but a home-wrecker is not one of them.

The attraction and longing you have for either man should remain buried, you had decided. Neither of them needed to know. You’ll move on eventually, you decide.

Nodding, you agree to text the group chat when you arrive home. With a final firm look from Geto, he turns to head back to the car parked by the curb. It’s still pouring, so you clutch your umbrella tight between your cold fingers. Gojo nudges your side with his hip, the one that’s unoccupied by Nanako.

“You better text us,” Gojo warns. You chuckle, already used to his light-hearted threats. The first time he’d dropped one, you’d been a little perturbed, but soon after you’d realized he only uses them when he’s concerned for you or the girls.

“I promise!” You mumble softly, nudging him back with your hip. You only manage to bump his thigh, as his legs are much longer than yours, but the sentiment is the same.

Gojo shakes his head fondly and hums in agreement. He shifts Nanako higher on his hip and clutches his umbrella in his other hand. Leaning in to look at you over the brim of his sunglasses, you breath catches at the slightest sight of his bright blue eyes. He hasn’t taken them off since the first moment you’ve met, but each glance of his eyes sends a shiver down your spine. You haven’t asked, but you understand it must be more complicated than he’s willing to share.

“And you’ll text us or Kento-chan if it gets too late?”

“’Course, Gojo-san,” you agree, huffing playfully as he parents you.

“I told you already, Sweets.” He playfully remarks. “Call me Satoru.”

You sigh happily, looking into the dark lenses of his glasses as your heart stutters.

“Get out of here before Nanako-chan freezes,” you mutter with heat in your cheeks. Gosh, do they love to make you flustered.

“Alright, alright,” Gojo laughs. He shifts away and begins to follow Geto to their car. His long legs look fantastic in the dark pants that cover his legs, and you find your eyes lingering on his back in the tight dress shirt he wears.

“We’ll be expecting your text, Sweets!” Gojo calls over his shoulder, throwing you a final glance before he disappears into the dark of Geto’s car.

Shaking your head with another light chuckle, you bring a hand up to wave them off. In a burst of found confidence, you manage to call out after him before he shuts the door.

“See you later, Satoru!”

Suguru’s eyes crinkle into a wide grin as he watches a starry-eyed look fall onto Satoru’s face when he shuts the door. He knows it will take days before Satoru gets over the sound of your sweet voice calling his name.

When Satoru settles into the passenger seat, Suguru nearly lets out a giggle at the wide-eyed, lovestruck look on his face. A bubbly feeling vibrates through the white-haired man’s form, filling him with incandescent happiness.

“She called me Satoru,” Gojo mumbles with awe in his voice. At the reminder, Geto does let out a chuckle, rubbing his knuckles against the blushing cheeks of his lover.

“Yeah, she did.” Geto confirms, a fond smile on his lips. His own heart throbs with a sense of longing. Geto wants to hear his name fall from your honeyed lips too.

Gojo starts, wonder still in his eyes, but determination in his voice: “She’s going to tear us apart, Suguru.”

“Oh, absolutely -” Suguru responds. “But you and I both know we’d let her.”

It’s hours later when you finally finish work. After the sun has disappeared from the sky and the moon shines brightly overhead, you huff a sigh of relief.

Placing all the work into their marked places, you stretch your back and groan when your spine cracks. It’s begun to ache, from your hunched position over your desk, but you know it would be worse if you’d done this work at home. You’d likely be too drawn to the comfort of your bed, which would only worsen your hunched position as you shuffle through student’s artwork and piles of paperwork.

When you inspect the front window, you grimace at the darkness that covers the courtyard. The clock at your right states that it’s almost midnight, and you wince in realization. You definitely had not planned to stay this late.

There's no more trains running at this hour, and you know Kento has long since put both himself and Yuuji to bed. He has to wake up early to drop off Yuuji and make it to work.

It shouldn’t be a problem, you muse hopefully. Your apartment isn’t that far from campus, anyway. You’ll text the boys when you get back, there’s no need to wake them this late.

It’s twenty minutes later, you realize just how wrong you’d been.

You’ve made it about six blocks from the campus when you hear footsteps behind you. They’re still decently far behind, at least thirty yards, but they’re still close enough to hear the sounds of boots meeting concrete. A chill makes its way down your spine, and you clutch your umbrella a little tighter. It’s still raining, so the sounds of the figure are hard to make out under the downpour of the rain.

It’s three blocks later, you realize they’re following you. When you increase speeds, so do the other set of steps; when you slow, they follow. So you take a few extra turns, hoping you’re just imagining the figure.

Your heart rate is elevated, the pulse thrumming in both your chest and your head. You can almost hear the beating in your ears. Thoughts are racing as you attempt to string together a plan to get away. Your fingers are numbing from the cold and rain, and they’re beginning to stiffen.

Throwing a quick glance over your shoulder, you nearly whimper at the size of the man trailing behind you. He’s massive - nearly a foot taller than you and definitely out measures you in strength too. His form is draped in a black hoodie, with the head drawn over to cover his features, and heavy boots cover his feet.

You suck in a breath and try to quicken your pace again. Legs shaking, you shift to turn down another street, hoping to lose him. Rain falls over the umbrella in downpours, drowning out the sounds of the surrounding environment. You grit your teeth with a clenched jaw and hurry your steps.

It’s a mistake.

Taking six steps, your eyes fall on the dead end of the alley facing you. Chest sinking, you can feel your heart in your throat. It’s a thick lump you can’t swallow.

You shake as you turn in an attempt to dash for the alley’s entrance, feet nearly sliding in the slick of the rain.

It’s too late.

The man is already standing at the entrance, form tall and sinister as he covers the light of the moon. You can’t make out any of his features, but you can nearly see the huff of his breaths against the night air. Your entire being trembles with a sinking fear, and your knees weaken. A sob is about to break from your chest, but you push it down with a heavy gulp.

Hands trembling, you reach for your bag. Fingers cold and shaking, you pull the strap from your shoulder.

“I don’t know what you want from me, but you can have whatever’s in the bag,” you shakily cry. Despite trying desperately to hold them back, there’s tears already falling from your eyes. “There’s money in there, just please let me go.”

The man takes a step towards you, and you shrink back. You stumble a bit, like a scared child, before righting yourself. You kick a crushed beer can as you back step. The sound clatters through the alley and you wince.

Fuck, you should have texted Gojo and Geto before you’d left. Your dead cell phone sits in your back pocket, the cold metal weighing on both your form and your consciousness.

You had never imagined things would go this way. Sure, your apartment wasn't in a super friendly area of Tokyo, but you’d never had problems before. The city lights were always too bright and there were always plenty of people meandering the streets. You guess the rain has sheltered the rest of the world for one, terrible moment.

The man chuckles - a menacing sound that churns your stomach and presses acid against your throat. Sharp lines cross his features, looking like stitches pressed across his pale skin. You can’t place the marks, but you’re certain you’ve seen them before.

“I don’t want the money, Girlie,” he grunts. You didn’t think your heart could sink any further.

“What do you think the Six-Eyes would do?” he muses, “when he finds their precious ‘Sweets,’ dead from their carelessness?” He moves, pulling a silver knife from the pocket of his jacket. It glints against the light of the moon, and you take another fearful step back.

A beat of recognition passes through your mind at the name, but there’s far too much adrenaline coursing through your body to make any connection. Your eyes haven’t left the knife, scenarios filtering through your conscious mind.

There’s so few options in which you leave this alley alive. He outweighs you in both strength and size, so you know a fight isn’t an option. Your only chance is to get around him and outrun him. You can only hope you make it to a corner store, where someone could help.

When he takes a step further, gross breath nearly touching your skin now, you tighten your grip on your bag. The knife is about to press into your skin, and you suppress a sob.

Then, in a quick burst of panic, you manage to swing the bag with all your strength. The man, having expected the fight, moves to block the ambush. However, you’re already moving. With all your weight, you crush the heel of your foot into the man’s pelvis before he can stop you.

He grunts, body curling inward for a moment, but you don’t stick around to find out his next move. You’re already running, slipping once against the slick concrete, before you’re sprinting as fast as you can.

The cold, night air hurts your lungs. You can’t remember the last time you’d run like this, and the ache in your legs says it’s been too long. No matter how harsh the pain in your calves, or the stinging in your chest, you keep pushing. Footsteps slap against the wet pavement as you race down the block.

You’ve long since ditched the umbrella. Instead the rain slaps against your skin in painful droplets. It soaks your hair and your clothes and settles uncomfortably on your skin. It’s cold and wet, and the tears soaking your cheeks blur your vision almost as much as the heavy rain.

Coughing down a sob, you push yourself a little further as the sounds of a shout and another set of footsteps sound somewhere behind you. You don’t turn to check, but you’re sure the man has given chase.

Sucking in another breath, you wince at the cramp already forming. You don’t slow down. With your heart in your throat, and a combination of rain and tears staining your cheeks, you keep running. There’s a light ahead, maybe a convenience store is still open at this late hour.

You can only hope.

“I’m stepping out, ‘Toru” Suguru mutters.

It’s too loud, and the flashing lights are giving him a headache. It’s one of their clubs. They’d dropped by on a routine check, showing face and collecting old debts. Eyes are constantly on his form as he and Satoru sift through the crowd. Though neither of them have enjoyed the club scene since having the twins, they both know they have to appear at least once a month to keep an eye on some of the higher ups. They can’t have people thinking they’re slacking off.

Satoru usually basks in the looks of awe and fear as he and Suguru part the crowd to make their way to the bar. They stand tall above the crowd and exude an aura of power. The flocks of people can’t meet his eyes - or well, the fabric covering them - as he smirks down at them. Satoru only wears the blindfold on mafia business. The glasses he keeps for simpler times; he enjoys using them to tease you. The heat in your cheeks and your inability to meet his barely-there glance brings a surge of pride to Satoru’s chest. He can feel the swell of butterflies fluttering in his stomach, so similar to the ones he gets when Suguru gives him a similar look - the bashfulness is, of course, harder to spot in his features though.

With tattoos on full display, the Six-Eyes clan mark is apparent on both men. The two powerful mafia leaders have been at the bar for nearly an hour now, and Suguru can’t shake the lingering feeling of anxiety from his head. Anxiously, Suguru rubs the end of the dragon tattoo climbing down his forearm. It stretches up his arm and descends down his shoulder and side, and Suguru can’t help but trace the tail end of the beast. The dark tattoo ends at his wrist, where he thumbs the ink.

There’s been something nagging at him since he and Satoru picked up the twins earlier that day.

It’s been hours since he’d tucked the girls in, swaddling their little bodies in blankets and pressing kisses to each of their foreheads. Both men had uttered soft ‘goodnights,’ before getting ready to head out on proper mafia business. Anxiousness settled in both their stomachs as they disappeared out the front door.

You hadn’t texted them.

A part of Suguru hopes that you were just too exhausted from work; you’d passed out as soon as you arrived home, so you’d forgotten to text. But he knows he’s wrong. You’d never forgotten to text before - always making a point to wish them goodnight and asking them to hug the twins for you. It’s a notion that usually brings warmth to Suguru’s chest, as he and Satoru share a meaningful smile and a soft kiss.

When the clock strikes midnight, Suguru decides he’s had enough.

He mutters to Satoru that he has to step out, before he’s shoving through the crowd of sweaty bodies to reach the door. It’s not difficult, the crowd parts to let him through, too fearful to get in his way.

Suguru could care less, all that’s on his mind is you.

Satoru knows his partner is concerned - he knows Suguru too well to miss the signs. Geto’s shoulders are too tense, even more so than they would be when dealing with mafia business. A frown is set on his lips and there’s a subtle crease in his eyebrows from where they’re furrowed.

There’s a similar weight on his chest too. Satoru has always been much better at hiding his emotions, the eccentric, playboy facade is sometimes all too easy to flash. The grim feelings welling in his chest are covered by an easygoing facade. Satoru prides himself on this ability, it’s fitting for his workplace. Suguru defaults to a cold expression that only Satoru can decipher.

Satoru lets his partner go, watching his back as he maneuvers through the throngs of people. He doesn’t follow - not yet. It’d be suspicious for them both to disappear suddenly. Satoru promises himself ten more minutes before he follows Suguru. The tightness in his chest won’t allow him any longer.

When Suguru emerges from the club’s exit, the cold of the night air meets his skin. He’s under an overhang, the building shielding him from the rain, but the freezing cold wind still causes goosebumps to settle under his skin. When the wind whips, a few droplets of rain splatter against his body, but he doesn’t mind.

Suguru has already pulled out his phone, dialing your number for the third time that night. He’d tried twice already, both when he’d left the house a few hours ago. He clutches the phone in his hand, grunting in frustration when he’s immediately sent to voicemail.

Pulling the phone from his ear, Suguru glares at the screen before hanging up. He tries once more, only to meet the same results before he tugs at his hair in frustration.

He yanks his hair from the sleek top knot it was pulled into, Suguru allows the strands to cover his face as he squeezes his eyes shut in frustration. Leaning back against the wall, his head falls back and presses against the hard bricks of the building.

The inside of Suguru’s mind is a mess. There’s too many scenarios racing from the far corners of his mind, some much darker than others. His heart beat picks up a notch, and Suguru can’t remember the last time he’s felt this panic. Sighing deeply through his nose, he takes a few heavy breaths to calm his frantic thoughts.

He decides he'll wait a few moments for Satoru before he starts looking for you. It can’t be hard to find your place, not with the kinds of information they have access to. They’ll be able to decide their next move once they confirm if you’re at your place.

Suguru is almost too lost in his thoughts to hear the first shout.

The rain is deafening, and his mind is far too loud to hear the sound. However, he’s shaken from the fog when the sound of feet slapping against the wet pavement start to get closer. He almost startles, grunting roughly in frustration. He doesn’t have time to deal with some crook coming after his title.

When he tunes into the sound of approaching footsteps, Suguru confirms two people are approaching. From the panicked, quick steps of the first, Suguru can tell the person is running from something. The second set of steps suggest that the first is being chased. Suguru confirms that the people haven’t seen him yet, before he steps out into the rain.

In the dark of the midnight hour, Suguru can’t make out any shapes from down the street. He stands under the downpour, letting the shine from a streetlight illuminate his form. Suguru isn’t quite sure why he’s stepped out, he usually wouldn’t interfere in trivial manners such as this. However, he’s in the mood to release some stress, and some lowlife scumbag chasing after a random citizen is a good excuse to rough someone up.

As the cold of the rain soaks his clothes, Suguru sets his shoulders back. The sound of footsteps gets closer, and he can make out the form of the first person. They’re panicked, Suguru can tell - they’re struggling to continue sprinting.

When they get a bit closer, Suguru can just barely see the soaked hair of the person’s form. It’s slicked against their forehead, dripping into their eyes and mixing with the tears that are leaking from their eyes. There’s a sob shaking from their lips. It’s shaky and anxious, stuttered through their heaving breaths.

There’s a moment of stillness for Suguru. The world goes quiet for just a single moment when the person’s form is revealed to his eyes. Their sobbing features and quivering lips strike a chord in Suguru’s heavy chest. Usually soft, gentle features have been distorted into those of panic and fear. The sweet sound of a usually happy voice is twisted into sobs.

When the moment passes, and the strength of the wind and rain is once again pushing against his skin, Suguru startles.

The face of the person he’s been aching for is revealed before him. His heart beats against his chest, and Suguru swears he can feel it in his throat. Hands ache to reach out for your form - to soothe the sobs exhaling from your lips and brush the tears away from your skin. Suguru’s whole being throbs at the sight of your face expressing such fear.

Before Suguru can make a move, your body is crashing into his form. In such panic, under the heavy storm of rain and blur of tears, you hadn’t seen his form under the street light. Your single track mind only wished to put as much space between you and your attacker. Lungs heaving and legs trembling, you collide with the form of the man in front of you.

There’s a hesitance, part of you wondering if your attacker had back up waiting. When your body rebounds from the stoic muscle of the form in front of you, you blubber. Tears still spilling over your cheeks and panting, there’s a moment where you don’t recognize him. Your brain is mush - only focused on escaping and surviving.

You sob louder, choking on a whimper when hands reach for your form. Shaking your head rapidly, you flinch from the arms outstretched before you, convinced it's another of the attacker’s friends. Suguru’s chest aches. He never wants to see that look again.

“M’sorry- M’so sorry,” you rapidly mumble. The words barely make sense as they’re rushed from your lips but you can’t slow down.

“Hey, hey-” a soothing voice rumbles. It’s familiar, the tone and deep gravel of the voice, but in your panic, there’s not enough working memory for your brain to recognize it.

“S’alright, Pretty Girl” the man continues, hands still outstretched and aching to soothe you. “Hey, s’me - it’s Suguru. Look at me, Pretty”

Suguru’s voice barely conceals a shake as your fearful body trembles. He's aching to comfort you - to take you into his arms and take on your burdens for his own. He’s only ever ached like this for one other, but it feels the same. An anxious bubble swells in his stomach, and he fears you won’t recognize him in your panic.

At the humming of his voice, you’re slowly brought from the haze. The more conscious part of your brain emerges from an anxious fog as it begins to remember the man before you. Shakily bringing your eyes upwards, you’re barely able to make out the sleek black hair that could only belong to one person. His mouth is set in a frown, but it’s twisted in something that looks like anguish.

It’s a look you haven’t seen on Suguru Geto.

“That’s it- look at me, Pretty Girl. You’re doing so good.”

Clutching your arms across your chest and body tucked inward to protect itself, you choke out a few syllables, “Su- Suguru?”

Geto’s heart throbs.

The first time you said his first name shouldn’t have been like this. Not when it’s filled with fear, your form drenched in rain and tears and clothes askew. He longs for a different setting, something warm and soft. Suguru longs to hear the sound of his name falling from your lips in that honeyed manner in which you speak to your friends.

“Yeah, s’me - it’s Suguru,” he hums. “What’s happened, Darling? You alright?”

There’s not enough time to stumble through an explanation. The sound of rapid approaching footsteps is enough to startle you; your attacker is finally catching up. You knew a kick to the groin wouldn’t keep him down for long, but you’d certainly hoped to put more distance between yourselves.

Acting purely on instinct, you immediately begin to move. The fear is still a sickening lump in your throat and it’s far too large to swallow. Ducking behind Suguru’s large form, you bury yourself in his back. His broad shoulders and muscular frame cover you almost completely. Your hands clutch the soaked material of his shirt, burying your face in his back in an attempt to hide yourself from the oncoming attacker. Even in the onslaught of rain, he still smells like Suguru - like warmth and comfort.

You squeeze your eyes as tightly as possible and grip Geto’s shirt in your fists until your knuckles begin to lose blood flow. Still shaking, you press yourself as close to Geto’s form - to safety - as you can. Your heart thunders in your chest, but Geto’s presence seems to soothe it, if only a fraction.

Suguru isn’t sure he can take much more of this.

With your frame completely pressed against his, Suguru’s heart jumps into his throat. God, does he wish more than anything to savor the press of your skin against his. Even under the rain and through the panic, Suguru’s mind is filled with thoughts of your body pressed against his and Satoru’s in hundreds of other scenarios.

However, he doesn’t have time for such thoughts.

Not with the approaching set of footsteps rapidly nearing your position.

Suguru squares his shoulders, setting them back to straighten his form and cover your form as best he can. One of his hands swings back, resting against your hip to press you against him. It’s a protective gesture - one that clearly shows he’s guarding you.

When the third form settles at the scene, there’s a snarl on his lips. He’s not panting as heavily as you had been, but it’s clear he’s sprinted to catch up. The man is still clutching his knife. It’s pressed tightly between his fingers, ready to strike.

“Geto Suguru,” the man growls.

Suguru doesn’t move.

His hand is still at your waist, but his form is tight and ready to pounce. At the slightest movement, Suguru is ready to lunge forward and rid you both of the attacker.

“You know me?” It’s less of a question than a statement. Most people know of Geto Suguru and Gojo Satoru. Well - those who are aware of the mafia, anyway. The two crime lords are the strongest mafia leaders in Japan: the Sorcerer and the Six Eyes.

“Of course I know you,” the man spits. “But it’s not you I want.”

He gestures roughly with his knife to the form pressed against Geto’s body. You shudder, and press down another sob with great difficulty.

“Bossman wants the girl.”

“He can’t have her.” Geto is quick to answer. His voice is sharp and firm. There is no room for debate. Suguru’s eyes drift over the markings on the man’s barely visible skin and presses you closer. He identifies the assailant’s affiliation

“Tell Mahito that this girl is clan property now - no one goes near her, unless they want to deal with me-”

“Or me.”

The normally cooing voice of Satoru Gojo is now laden with anger and coated with ice. It’s sharp, uncharacteristic of Gojo. You can’t bring yourself to move from your stiff position at Geto’s back, but since your mind has begun to clear, it recognizes the voice of your white haired friend.

Satoru lets the door to the club fall shut behind him with a heavy slam. Stepping out into the rain, Satoru’s form radiates power. Even the rain seems to be apprehensive, barely touching his body as he strides to stand beside his partner. He stands tall, shoulder to shoulder with Suguru as the two glare down at the man who’d hunted you.

Gojo doesn’t allow the twinge of his heart to show on his features as he takes in your petrified form. He can see the white-knuckled grip you have on Geto’s shirt and the rapid rising and falling of your chest. The tears muddled on your cheeks blend with the rain, and Gojo almost wants to grab you to hide you in his own chest. Though, he knows you’re safe in Suguru’s hands. Geto would never let anything happen to you, Satoru knows. It’s the same way he knows he himself would never let anything touch you.

Satoru presses close to Suguru, allowing his form to overlap yours and cover the rest of your body from the prying eyes that attempt to pierce your skin. You can only shift a hand to clutch Satoru’s shirt in your other hand in thanks. You haven’t calmed from the oncoming panic attack, but knowing you’re safe buried behind the two brings you some comfort.

The man before you has to suppress a shudder at the sight of both clan heads. He barely stood a chance against just one, but now understands there’s little to no chance of his survival. Satoru Gojo and Suguru Geto are fiercely protective of the ones they love. While your relationship may not be defined, it’s clear the two care for you beyond words.

The attacker shifts on his feet, ready to make a break for it, in the hopes of avoiding the oncoming fight. His cowardice is glaringly evident, even after his earlier threats.

“Satoru,” Geto mumbles, eyes hard and no emotion flickering behind them. “What happens when you disregard orders from the Six Eyes?”

His question may be addressed to Satoru, but they’re clearly directed to the now nervous form of the man in front of them. He shifts again, getting ready to lunge, but Satoru is quicker.

He’s faster than lightning, already at the man’s side and pressing his arm behind his back to incapacitate the attacker. You didn’t even feel him move, let alone pry your grip from his clothing. Satoru is nothing but gentle with you.

The man cries out in pain as Satoru muscles him to his knees.

“Why don’t you show this thug the strength of the Gojo clan?”

“With pleasure.”

A sinister smirk drags a corner of Satoru’s lips upwards, but you can’t see it. At the first grunt of pain from your pursuer, Geto has shifted. He turns his body so that you’re pressed into his chest rather than his back. You barely notice the change, too focused on controlling your breaths. You count the seconds on each inhale, hold the breath, then count again as you exhale. Hyper-focusing on your breathing brings a sense of calm to your otherwise panicked mind.

Geto moves the hand that grasps your waist to surround your body at the hips. He tugs softly, pressing you tightly to his chest. His other hand rests at the back of your head, gently rubbing against your hair. It's incredibly soothing. Swaying back and forth slightly, Geto keeps you pressed against him so that you have no choice but to focus on him rather than Satoru - who is dragging away the form of your attacker. Suguru softly hums, the sound reverberating in his chest and surrounding your senses. It drowns out the muffled cries from behind him.

Satoru spares a glance over his shoulder, allowing his eyes to soften slightly at the sight of the two of you pressed together. He longs to take care of this quickly so he can wrap his arms around the two of you. Turning quickly, Satoru continues to drag the struggling form of Mahito’s henchmen towards a dark alley.

“Let’s finish this quickly,” Satoru spits. “I have business to take care of.”

The next few moments don't really register in your head. Suguru had tried to lead you away from the scene, but your legs had quickly given out beneath you. Tired from escaping and adrenaline quickly fading, you finally allowed exhaustion to catch up. Geto had been quick to slip an arm under your knees and hoist you up. Shoulders flexing, Suguru clearly had enough muscle mass to carry anyone he wanted.

In his arms, Suguru helped you practice breathing until the pattern was more controlled.

He mumbled soft reassurances against your ear as he carried you towards his car. He and Satoru had driven to the club, knowing neither of them would drink that evening.

Before he could set you in the backseat, you vaguely recall protesting. Not wanting to ruin the interior of his car with your soaked form, you had shaken your head and stammered soft objections. Geto had chuckled under his breath, and fished out a towel from the trunk after setting you on your feet to rest against the car. His hands were kind and gentle as they helped you dry to the best of your abilities.

When he’d tried to place you in the backseat, you shook your head rapidly once more and clutched him tighter to your form. The fear from running for your life had yet to wear off, and the thought of Suguru leaving you left you more panicked than before.

Suguru gently shushed you as he rocked the two of you back and forth again. Your face was buried in his chest again, and Suguru longed to see your pretty eyes.

“S’okay, I’ve got you.”

The phrase is mumbled over and over again with Suguru’s lips pressed against your forehead. They’re soft and warm, and you wish you were in a clearer state of mind so you could savor the feeling.

“Nobody can hurt you with us here,” Suguru sighs. “Promise.”

With adrenaline quickly fading, you’re on the verge of passing out. However, you continue to pry your eyelids back open each time they drift shut. You’re waiting for Satoru to return. Your heavy head won’t let you rest until you know he's safe too.

Seconds later, your eyes finally fall shut as a second set of hands gently rub the skin of your arm. You almost flinch, but you know Geto wouldn’t have let just anyone touch you.

Gojo’s hands are surprisingly softer than Geto’s. His long fingers press softly to the bare skin of your forearms, where your clothes have gone askew in your flight. Gojo gently readjusts them, though you’re far past the point of caring.

Muttering is heard above your head, though the sounds are muffled to your slowly weakening form.

“-Wouldn’t rest until you came back-” is heard, followed by “-doesn’t want to be by herself.”

Gojo nods softly. Geto fixes him with a look before he begins to shift you into Satoru’s arms. You whine in vague protest, and Gojo is the one to hush you this time. His leaner body presses against your skin and his warmth seeps into your cold skin. When you nuzzle closer with a mumble, Satoru’s heart clenches.

“Come on, Sweetheart - in we go.”

Gojo shuffles you into the backseat of Geto’s car before following after you. When you’re buckled into the middle seat with Satoru still pressed against you, you finally allow yourself to pass out in exhaustion.

Satoru clutches your body to his, shifting to allow your head to press into his neck rather than his shoulder. He finally unwraps the blindfold from his eyes, allowing the bright blue irises to sweep over your body without the hindrance of the mask. Scanning for injuries, Satoru huffs a sigh of relief when he confirms you have no physical wounds.

Nodding to Suguru, the key is slid into the ignition and the car finally pulls out of its parking spot. He skillfully maneuvers the car in the dark of the night, with one hand grasping the steering wheel and the other pressed against his forehead. He rubs his temple, gently pushing away the ache that rang in his skull.

Suguru hasn’t been this stressed in a while.

Locking eyes with Satoru’s ocean blue one’s in the rearview mirror, Suguru gives him a knowing look.

“We should take her back to our place.” It’s spoken quietly, uncharacteristic of Satoru when not in the presence of his lover. “Kento says she lives in a shit-hole apartment up North - she won’t be safe there tonight.”

Suguru agrees. He’d already been heading in that direction anyway. He takes a smooth left towards the direction of their house, hands sliding against the leather of the steering wheel. There’s a long beat of silence in the interior of the car. Suguru can almost hear the faint sound of your breaths escaping your lips. He’s thankful that they’ve slowed to a reasonable pace.

At a stoplight, Suguru twists in his seat. Looking over his shoulder, Suguru is met with the sight of Satoru’s soft eyes locked on your form. The white-haired man is delicately stroking the hair back from your eyes, his other hand grasped tightly in yours. You’d fallen asleep pressed into his chest, body slanted sideways in the seat. Satoru’s eyes shine with worry, but they don’t leave your face.

He’s too busy scanning each of your features, memorizing the innocent, gentle that overtakes your face in your sleep. Satoru gently rubs the tear tracks from your cheeks, feeling the softness of the skin against his fingertips. He sighs, and looks up to meet his lover’s eyes.

“I don’t ever want to see that look again.” Suguru mumbles. He’s referencing the scared, panicked look you'd given him when you’d bumped into him. Suguru thinks his heart may have stopped beating when he’d heard the sobs choke from your lungs.

Satoru nods. His sky blue eyes drop back to your face. Satoru can’t lie - he too, had been anxious at the sight of your panic. He promises himself, in that moment, to never let that same look befall your features.

“S’alright, Suguru.” Satoru mutters back, lifting a hand to gently thumb the wrinkle between Suguru’s brows. His fingers slide from his partner’s forehead down his cheek, where Satoru softly runs the same thumb over Suguru’s lips.

“We’ve got her now,” Satoru clutches you tighter to his chest, watching the rise and fall of your chest. “Never gonna’ let anyone hurt her again.”

Suguru’s still damp hair falls into his eyes as he nods. Pressing a kiss to Satoru’s thumb, Suguru runs his fingers over your cheek and turns back to face the dashboard. He shifts the car back into gear, and continues driving the three of you back to their place.

Satoru’s right, Suguru decides. There’s nothing in this world or the next that could stop the two clan heads from protecting their family. Suguru gently huffs and shakes his head - Family, huh? They certainly hoped you would be soon.

When you wake the next morning, it’s in soft silken sheets and the scent of waffles and fresh coffee in the air. You vaguely recall a memory of Satoru gently hushing you as he lifted your body from Suguru’s car. He'd carried you into their expensive, but surprisingly, small home. Despite their wealth, the two had agreed that they didn't need an extravagant mansion to raise their daughters - it wouldn’t feel like a home.

The house the two men resided in was a quaint, two-story cottage style house. The girls had fallen in love with it the first time the real estate agent had shown them the property. They'd run around the yard, pointing out flowers and various insects to their fathers. Mimiko giggled as her sister pressed a daisy behind her ear, mumbling about how pretty her Nee-san was. Suguru had nearly handed over the downpayment that day.

Shuffling up the stairs, the two men were quiet so they wouldn't wake the twins. Suguru had closed his eyes and changed your wet clothes. He couldn’t, in good consciousness, let you sleep in the sopping wet material. When he’d finished, Satoru had picked you back up and delicately placed you in the guest bed. It was next door to their room, but both men still cast a longing glance over their shoulder as they left the room.

It felt wrong to leave your side after such an event. Suguru craved to remain by your side, to press his body into yours and tuck his hands into Satoru’s hair. He wanted you pressed between them - in capacity, shape or form. Just hearing the beat of your heart would comfort him enough to allow him to sleep.

Satoru had gently tugged Suguru away. Though he felt the same, he knew your relationship wasn’t quite there yet. They could properly ask you soon.

In the early hours of the morning, you awoke to the sounds of birds chirping and the beams of sun drifting in from the window. It’d taken a moment to register your surroundings, not used to the sounds of nature outside your apartment. It was usually the sounds of shouts from your upstairs neighbors that woke you in the morning, so the change of pace was nice.

Drifting your attention from the soft spring breeze filtering in from the window, your eyes landed on the door. From just outside, there was the sound of rustling, and then three voices quietly mumbling. The voices are familiar, and you’re not worried.

Everything about the room you’re in feels comforting. The scent of both Satoru and Suguru are in the air. You’re swaddled in a shirt a size too big, but you can’t decide whose it is. It smells vaguely like them both, so it very well could be a shared shirt between the two. The sheets are smooth under your skin, and the sun is warm on your cheeks.

Despite the events from the night before, you don’t think you’ve ever slept so soundly.

The sound of voices is heard again, and it sounds like excitement from two, before there’s a gentle command of “No, wait!”

Then, your door is being pried open.

The gentle pitter-patter sounds of two sets of feet scurry across the hardwood floors before two bodies are throwing themselves onto your bed.

“Sensei!”

The two girls squeal in happiness, launching their little bodies into your arms. You can't help the bright grin that lifts your cheeks. Their wide-eyed, toothy smiles are too much for your heart, and you lift your arms to scoop their bodies into your chest. You squeeze them tight, refilling your chest with a warmth that had been missing after last night.

Mimiko giggles and nuzzles herself closer, her sister following suit. They burrow themselves into the sheets, clinging tightly to your form and smelling of fresh strawberries and pastries. Your eyes are shut as you chuckle alongside the girls and hug their little bodies to you.

“I’m so sorry!” It’s Satoru who apologizes. His voice sounds worried, but there's still an underlying hint of joy. “Suguru and I couldn’t hold them back after they heard you spent the night.”

You sigh, but it’s a happy sound. A breath of fresh air fills your lungs and you giggle again. Nanako tucks herself under your chin, her tiny arms wrapped around your chest. Mimiko lays on your other side in a much similar position.

“It’s alright, Satoru.”

The words are spoken in a breathy laugh. You haven't looked up to face him yet, too busy situating yourself and the girls into a more comfortable position.

“Papa made us wait an hour!” Nanako nearly whines. She wiggles a bit alongside her words, and you tickle her sides to hear her giggle again.

“Did he? How cruel of him,” you play along.

Satoru huffs an exaggerated sigh, and you turn your gaze up to meet him, ready to playfully argue for the girls.

The words die on your lips as you take him in.

Satoru isn’t wearing his sunglasses. An ocean of clear blue and turquoise meets your eyes, and you find yourself losing your train of thought. The swirling depths of Satoru’s eyes are unlike anything you’ve ever seen before. They glimmer with mischief, but it’s easily overlooked. The crystal clear and vibrant cyan blends gorgeously with his white hair, and you find yourself stuttering.

“I- you-” you try to form the words on the tip of your tongue.

“You’re beautiful.”

It’s not the words you had intended to speak, and the cacophony of giggles that fall from the twin’s mouth causes heat to rise to your face. You turn away, trying to hide your embarrassment by burying your forehead into Mimiko's hair.

Satoru can’t lie - his heart did skip a beat at the exclamation. He hadn’t been expecting the compliment, and the genuine awe in your voice makes his stomach twist with butterflies. A warmth fills his chest and Satoru nearly keens at the praise.

“Sensei thinks Papa is pretty,” Nanako giggles. Her cheeks are pink from laughter, and she pokes your cheek. Mimiko’s laugh blends with her sister, and she looks back at her father, who is barely concealing his own pink cheeks. You delicately pinch the girl’s side, but it only causes another peel of laughter to escape.

Grinning, Satoru locks eyes with you again when you manage to pull them from where they're buried. He wiggles his eyebrows, a move you’ve seen him pull before.

You roll your eyes, flopping your head back against the fluff of the pillows. Shifting the girls in your arms, you sit up against the headboard of the bed. From behind Satoru, Suguru peeks into the room. He has an apron over his sweats, and his hair is pulled back into a bun with a few strands framing his face. The combination of both men in their comfort clothes and smiles on their cheeks nearly causes your skin to warm again.

“What’s going on in here?” Suguru questions. A grin is on his lips as he sets his chin on Satoru’s shoulder, arms wrapping around his partner's waist. He watches his daughters cling onto you, a warmth in his chest.

“Sensei called Papa beautiful!” Mimiko chimes helpfully, mimicking her sister’s earlier words. She lifts her head from your neck to sing the words, matter-of-factly.

“Oh, did she?” The words are teasing. Suguru’s dark eyes are now locked on you. You try to avoid his gaze, embarrassment rushing through your form and a nervous excitement in your gut. Choosing instead to look at the scenery outside the window, you grab a silk pillow from behind you. Without looking you toss it in the vague direction of the men, huffing a laugh when an indignant ‘Hey!’ follows.

Despite your embarrassment, Suguru can tell you’re feeling better. Last night had been incredibly stressful, but he's glad the twins are able to melt some of the stress away. The knowledge of his daughters bringing you genuine happiness causes his grip to tighten on Satoru’s waist. The white-haired man turns his head, pressing a soft kiss to Suguru’s forehead.

Both men share an understanding. The emotions swirling between them are similar and shared between the two. They watch with warm eyes and happy grins as you tickle MImiko and blow raspberries to Nanako’s cheeks as they squeal.

Satoru rests his hands over Satoru’s and sighs happily. They could get used to this.

And get used to it, they do.

Satoru and Suguru manage to pull the girls from you, and they lead the three of you down to breakfast. They explain that they hadn’t felt comfortable leaving you alone, and had brought you back to their place for the night. Satoru expresses that they want you to stay until you felt safe enough to return to your own apartment. Suguru agrees with his partner with a firm nod of his head. Feeling thankful, you agree, under the condition that you return to your place to grab clothes and other necessities.

Both men nod, and later that afternoon, you’re picking up a week’s worth of clothes and other necessities from your run-down apartment. Suguru doesn’t allow you to carry your bags, shifting them to his own arms as Satoru leads you back to their car.

A week passes. Suguru drops you and the twins off at the school in the mornings and Satoru picks the three of you up in the evenings. You help them prepare meals, setting the table and chopping veggies. Satoru presses his chest against your back when you have Mimiko set on your hip. The girl giggles at her father, and pushes his face away when he asks for a kiss. She whines when he blows a raspberry in her neck, and you have to hide your reddening ears from the white-haired man when his cheek brushes yours.

Then another week passes too. The twins have begun asking you to read their bedtime story on most nights, and Gojo and Geto press against each other in the doorway to watch. There’s love in their eyes as you mimic different characters’ voices and animate sounds from their storybooks.

Soon, nearly a month has gone by, and you have yet to return to your apartment. It’s not as though you hadn’t thought about it. You had asked Suguru a week back, but he'd simply given you a warm look and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

He murmured a gentle, “Don’t worry about it, Pretty.” Then, he nudged your hip in the direction of the twins, who awaited your presence at their tea party.

The more time passed, the more their house began to feel like a home of your own.

Of course, Satoru had explained the ‘intricacies’ of their workplace a few weeks back. You’d suspected something similar, with the way your attacker had shrunk back against their figures. Their very existence nearly exuded an aura of something darker and a little dangerous.

However, despite the revelation, you couldn't find it within yourself to be scared.

Neither Satoru, nor Suguru, had ever made a motion to hurt you. Their gazes were always filled with warmth and their touches were nothing but gentle. All the time you'd spent alongside either man and their daughters felt like an eternity of sunshine and cloudless skies.

Besides, there was something about the way that Suguru had hid your form behind his own. He'd held your body behind his shoulders, hand grasping your waist protectively. The way that Satoru had joined his partner’s side, standing shoulder to shoulder with him to hide your form, lingered in your mind. Suguru’s hushed words of comfort and praise still touched the edges of your subconscious. The reminder of feeling their hands on your skin as they rocked you back and forth, made goosebumps raise the hairs of your skin.

Nothing about either man had ever sparked fear in your mind. They’d only ever treated you with care and protectiveness. It was a reminder that made you so, incandescently happy.

By the end of the next week, the five of you had established a routine around the house. Part of you hoped that the dreamlike situation never ended. It had begun with a feeling of fear, but you found yourself thanking the moment for what followed after.

Geto had dropped the three of you off at the school courtyard that morning, pressing kisses to each of his daughter’s cheeks. They’d giggled, before grasping each other’s hands and taking off towards the classroom. Turning to you, Suguru pressed a delicate kiss to your forehead as well, a motion that both he and Satoru had been repeating lately.

The motion is not missed by Nanami, who sends you a look. We’ll talk about this later, it says. You roll your eyes and wave him away with a smile. Nanami huffs and nearly rolls his own eyes as he sets Yuuji down next to Megumi. Toji is just turning around to walk back to his car, sending you a two-fingered wave on his way. You’re used to his laid-back demeanor, so you simply wave him off with a smile.

Suguru clutches your waist a little tighter, but it goes unnoticed by you. Both he and Satoru have been touchy lately, and you had no problem indulging in their soft caresses and gestures. Though you felt a little guilty, seeing as they were in a committed relationship, neither man seemed upset with his partner’s affection. You allowed them to continue, after ensuring it was alright with both men.

“I’ll be back before three,” he whispers into your hairline. You hum, bumping Suguru with your hip to motion him back towards the car.

“See you, Sugar!” The nickname causes a huffed laugh to exhale against your head. The word had slipped from your mouth by accident when you’d been baking with the girls two weeks ago. You’d meant to ask him for the sugar, but instead his name and the ingredient had both come out in a tangled mess. The twins had giggled endlessly, and the nickname had somehow stuck.

Suguru leaves your side with a final squeeze of your hip, heading back to his car. He’s not excited for the hours of meetings he and Satoru have to sit through, but the thought of your new little family allows him to push through the stress.

The two men had decided they would finally ask you to join their family that evening. Over hushed whispers passed between the two in the early hours of the morning, Satoru had decided that it was finally time. You got along so well with their daughters, never treating them poorly and consistently providing equal attention and love. Despite not being yours, you treated the girls like your own. Both Satoru and Suguru don’t think they’ll ever be able to find a person like you ever again.

It was time to ask you to be theirs.

The thought makes Suguru’s stomach twist with anxious excitement. As he pulls out of his parking space, all that’s on his mind is the thought of you and his little family.

Satoru and Suguru have sat through five hours of meeting when the phone call comes. The mindless droning of clan members and shipment info pass through the room, boring both men. When a break is finally called, Satoru pulls out his phone, only to be met with the sight of six missed calls from your phone.

Satoru sucks in a breath, heart racing. It’s half past two, so the other students will have already left the school, but you shouldn’t be expecting them until closer to three. His phone had been on silent, not wanting to be interrupted or distracted during their meetings. The six calls had all occurred within the last fifteen minutes, and Satoru is partially relieved it hasn't been too long.

Mind racing with possibilities, Satoru tilts the phone so Suguru can see the screen. His long-haired lover furrows his brow, chest seizing at the notifications. The two make eye-contact - well, a semblance of it due to Satoru’s blindfold.

Before either can speak, the phone begins to ring again. Suguru is immediately standing, excusing both himself and Satoru. They make their way out into the hall as Satoru answers the call.

“Hey, Sweetheart,” Satoru starts. “You alright? What’s goin’ on?”

The phone is set to speaker, allowing Suguru to listen. For a moment, there’s no answer. Only silence is heard from the other side of the line. Then, a tiny sob is heard.

Mimiko.

Suguru nearly crumpled at the sound of his daughter’s cry. Knees weak, he leans into Satoru, who rests his own weight against his partner. Both men have nearly racing pulses, eyes wide and frantic as they look from each other back to the phone.

“Mochi?” Satoru murmurs.

Another beat of silence passes.

Then, a tiny voice is heard. “Papa?”

Nanako is the one who speaks. It’s dreadfully quiet, the word nearly whined through a suppressed sob.

“Baby, S’going on?” Suguru rushes, clutching Satoru’s arm. His mind is racing at the possibility of his daughters being hurt. The dark-haired man wonders where you are, his breath catching at the thought of any of you in danger.

The sounds of tiny sobs erupt from both girls, only worsening their fathers’ worry. The phone muffles the sound, but shouts are heard in the background. Suguru tenses, fist clenching as he and Satoru look at each other. There’s only a second passing between them before they're both moving.

Satoru is immediately moving, taking long strides as he and Suguru push through the halls towards the parking garage. Both men are panting, chests tight with worry as they make their way to the car. It feels neither of them can move fast enough as they pull open the doors to Satoru’s car. He’s the faster of the two drivers, capable of maneuvering them through tight races and escapes.

Satoru passes the phone to Suguru as a sharp cry is heard from one of their daughters.

Chest seizing in fear, Suguru calls out. “Nanako? Mimiko? Are you alright? What’s happening?”

The next words to fall from Nanako’s mouth have Satoru pressing the gas pedal to the floor. Suguru’s chest feels as though it will collapse as he clutches the phone tight between his fingers.

“S’Mama! The bad men are trying to hurt Mama!”

At half past two, you see them.

Three men in dark suits began approaching the classroom after you waved the last student goodbye. Satoru had wanted you of the danger that came with being around them, but at the time, you’d fixed him with a look.

“I don’t care, Toru,” you’d smiled. “Nothing could tear me away from this family now.”

Satoru had grinned, pulling you into his chest and giddily murmuring happy phrases that had you pinching his sides. He'd pressed a kiss to your head, laughing when the twins called for attention too.

You had suspected they’d return, though you never thought they’d come to your workplace. Especially not with Mimiko and Nanako still around.

With a tense exhalation of air, you quickly pivoted on your feet. Heading for the twins, you shut and locked the door behind you in a rush. Pressing a chair under the knob of the door, you pulled down the curtains to all the windows in the room. The twins looked up from the television that was playing a superhero movie.

Turning to them, you quickly ushered them both under your desk in the corner of the room. It was small but they could both fit. From this area, neither of their little bodies could be seen since the desk was pressed between a shelf and the wall, surrounded by all but one side. They’d be well hidden here.

“What’s going on?” Nanako wondered as you ushered the two into the small space. Their eyes were worried, little hands clutching each other and yours. Hushing them gently, you pressed your unlocked phone into their little hands. Gently brushing the hair away from their cheeks, you gently coaxed them under the desk.

“It’s alright, honey. There’s some bad men here that Sensei has to send away. I need you to stay under here and call your fathers, can you do that for me?”

The girls had exchanged an already teary-eyed look. “But what about Mommy?” Mimiko whimpered.

The title sent a pang through your chest, one that you didn't have time to address. You were running out of time and you could not - would not - let the twins get hurt.

“Mommy’s gonna’ be fine - okay, Angel? Trust Mommy.”

The little girls had shakily nodded their heads, crawling to the back of the depths with a press of a kiss to both their little foreheads. They clung to each other as you maneuvered the chair to hide their bodies further from sight.

“Call Papa, okay? Daddy can fix everything, just make sure to keep quiet, alright?”

You sent the girls a final worried look, trying to hide the fear with courage. You didn't want the twins to think you were scared. It would only further their panic. You could only rely on Satoru and Suguru to pick up the phone, and hope that they could make it here soon. The three tall men have already made it to the door, and the lock won't hold for much longer based on the sounds of them wailing on the handle.

Whatever happens now, you only know you have to keep the twins safe. They'd called you Mom, after all.

Satoru thinks he's broken twelve different laws by the time the car screeches to a stop outside the school courtyard.

They're the furthest thing from his mind. Suguru has already slammed the door to the car, feet carrying him across the courtyard in long strides. Satoru follows quickly after. Chests tight and anxiety spinning in their stomachs, Suguru feels as though he'd lied before. When he thought he’d never been more scared to see the fear on your face - he’d been wrong.

It’s this moment, the one where he bursts through the door to three men hovering over you. There's blood on your cheek and a dark bruise is already forming on your cheek. The sounds of his daughters sobbing can be heard from behind the desk, but your body blocks his view. Despite the men’s torment, your figure is leaned over the tiny entryway to the desk, blocking them from getting any closer to the twins.

Your hands are over your head, protecting your face from being struck again. Curled protectively over the desk, Suguru knows you’re protecting his daughters, even despite the peril it puts your own safety in.

It’s at this moment, thatSuguru’s breath leaves his lungs. The anxiety in his stomach swells further into panic and he feels as though he may vomit. Chest heaving, Suguru kicks a desk out of his way,

“Get the fuck away from my family!”

It’s spit with a venom that even Satoru has seldom heard.

The white-haired man was not far behind Suguru. He rushes into the doorway not long after his lover, eyes taking in the sight even with the blindfold. His mouth is dry and his legs nearly shake. Your frail, trembling form fills his vision and the sounds of the sobs of his daughters fill his ears. An overwhelming anger fills his body, but Satoru can't tear his eyes from your figure.

Hunched over the desk, body beat, you still stand in the way. Refusing to budge, even despite the taunts and strikes, you shield the twins from the sight of the men. Satoru is filled with a protective rage he's sure is similar to your own. The urge to protect both you and his daughters has Satoru moving before Suguru has even finished spitting the command.

Pushing a desk out of his way, Satoru immediately reaches for the goon closest to him. Pulling the man away, Gojo kicks his form with clenched teeth. He strikes the man with enough force to send him flying back into the other desks, crashing into the wood with a grunt.

Satoru has already moved to grab the second man before the attackers can even think. He isn’t blessed with the Six Eyes for nothing.

“How dare you,” he growls as he pushes the man to the floor beneath him. Pushing the man’s skull to the ground with his foot, Satoru nearly sounds like a feral animal.

“How dare you go after them? Our lover? Our daughters?” He presses the man harder into the floor, not concerned by the third goon, who’s already being forced to the floor by an angry Suguru.

Tossing the man towards the first, Suguru quickly turns back to you. His expression quickly changes to one of concern, of guilt and love and all kinds of unexpressed feelings. With a softened expression, Suguru quickly and gently grasps your hands, pulling them over your ears, motioning for his daughters to do the same.

“Keep your ears covered, Pretty.” He fixes the girls with the same, soft command. “Even when the sounds stop, keep them covered, alright? Satoru and I will come get you when it's over.”

Then, he's softly pushing you under the desk with the twins and turning back to help a fuming Satoru drag the three men out of the classroom. His expression immediately drops back into one of fury.

The two strongest clan leaders in Japan have rats to exterminate.

When your aching body drops to the floor in front of the girls, they immediately bury themselves in your sides. Snot rubs into your shirt, but you could hardly care since your own tears had already stained the material. Clutching your ears tight, you curl over the girls, unable to protect them any other way.

“Mommy!” The muffled cry falls from the lips of both girls. They sob into your chest, little bodies trembling in fear. Little hushes fall from your lips as you do your best to soothe them despite their covered ears.

“S’alright, Mommy’s here now. I won’t let them hurt you.” The words are muffled to your own ears, and you hope Nanako and Mimiko can hear them. “S’gonna be fine, Angels. Daddies’ are here now - we’re gonna be just fine.”

You aren't quite sure how long you sit there, with your hands pressed over your ears and body curled protectively over the twins. Time no longer seems to exist. You can’t count your racing breaths anymore as you fight to keep your heart in control as is. All you can do is repeat the same gentle phrases to the girls, hoping to comfort them as best you can.

When Satoru and Suguru finally finish disposing of the ‘rats’, Suguru pulls out his phone to call one of the other loyal clan members. It’s a quick and rushed phone call. Suguru is too desperate to go back to your shaking form and his crying daughters. He barely manages to spit out the address and a vague explanation, before he’s hanging up and racing back in after Satoru.

The white-haired man is already at your side, gently prying your form away from the girls. He’s whispering gentle reassurances, eyes welling with tears at your beaten form and rustled hair. There’s tears in your eyes and on your cheeks, but you're still clutching to the girls protectively. Suguru’s chest fills with relief and warmth and he strides over.

Satoru has already pulled you against his chest, after gently reassuring you it was just him.

“Oh, thank god.” He exhales in a sob of his own. He’s pressing kiss after kiss to your forehead, to your cheek - to every inch of skin he can reach. They're soft and careful of the bruise on your cheek, but Satoru mumbles his worries into your skin.

Suguru is pulling the girls into his chest, crying into their little bodies as they call out for him. His heart is still racing, but the relief of seeing his daughters and you safe, is slowly beginning to calm to the rapid pulse.

“Was s’worried,” Suguru cries. It’s raw, choked out through tears, and when you turn to see his expression, you’re brought to more tears of your own. His face is twisted into pain, tears falling down from his dark eyes. Both hands and pressing his sobbing daughters into his chest, but he pulls one hand away to reach out for you.

Satoru pushes you gently into his lover’s embrace, following quickly after. You press to the twins’ backs, Satoru pressed to your own in a sandwich of swirling emotions. Suguru’s hand holds your cheek gently, pressing a kiss of his own to your forehead. Tears drip onto your skin, but there’s so many salty tear tracks on your skin from you, the girls and Satoru that they don't phase you.

“My babies-” Satoru mumbles in a voice uncharacteristically weak. He’s got you pushed against the girls, his hands clutching your body and Suguru, so the five of you are all pressed together.

“Papa!” Nanako cries. Mimiko copies her, a wail of her own following. “We were so scared, Papa!”

Satoru shushes them both with a soft hum, pressing kisses to them both and brushing tears away from their eyes when they look up at him. The little girls snuggle closer to the both of you, little hands clutching clothing in tight fists.

“I thought the bad men were going to hurt Mama!” Nanako whimpers, burying her teary face into your neck. You clutch her closer with a still racing heart, so happy to be safe with the four of them.

“S’alright now,” Suguru mumbles. “Papa and I will never let anything happen to you - ever again.”

He brushes a stand of ruffled hair away from your face, eyes filling with the utmost love as he looks into your own. Satoru presses his nose to your scalp, inhaling your scent and clutching you tight in his other hand.

“We’re gonna keep you and Mama safe,” Satoru whispers, sending his lover another aching look. Suguru returns it with equal love resonating behind his eyes.

“I promise,” he finishes.

Suguru shifts his eyes to yours, an unreadable look of gratitude and love in the irises. There's emotion in them you can’t quite decipher, but you don't need to.

Because Suguru has already lunged forward and is capturing your lips with his own.

The kiss is wet with both your tears, salt on both your lips, but it’s undeniably the best kiss you've ever had. Suguru expresses his fears, his worries, his love and a thousand other emotions in the gentle press of his lips against yours. You gasp out a short exhale of surprise, before you return the kiss tenfold. It's rushed, but the both of you are too worried and filled with too much relief to care.

When Suguru pulls away, Satoru is pulling your head to the side and capturing your lips with his own. His kiss is equally as fervent, expressing his love and gratitude for your safety with the push and pull of his soft lips against your own. He's pulled off his blindfold, and his hands are pressed against your cheeks, softly stroking the skin beneath his fingers. Satoru’s kiss is equally as breathtaking as Suguru’s.

After you separate, Suguru is grasping Satoru and kissing him the same. They share a kiss of overwhelming passion and love, grateful to have made it in time to save their family.

A disgusted voice breaks the silence.

“Ew, Papa. No! That’s gross, stop kissing each other!”

The three of you exhale gentle chuckles of relief, turning to face Nanako and Mimiko who are both looking up at you. Then, the three of you are scattering the girls’ cheeks in kisses, pressing their little bodies against yours. Their little squeals fill the room, and both Satoru and Suguru have never been more grateful for Nanami’s kindergarten recommendation.

Weeks later, you wake in silken sheets again, pressed between Satoru and Suguru’s chests. They’re shirtless, as are you. Suguru’s tattoos stand out against the softness of his skin, and you find yourself tracing the ink down the muscles of his chest. The first time you’d done so, Satoru had made a suggestive comment and pressed your form between their chests. The electricity under your skin zinged at their touch, heating the space between your thighs and scrambling your brain.

You marvel at the strength that lies under his skin, and press a soft kiss to the tattoo just above his heart. A lone constellation sits in the empty space on his left pectoral muscle.

Cassiopeia.

Five bright stars intertwining with each other for eternity. Just the five of them together, lingering next to one another in the vast emptiness of space. Five stars to match five people. The constellation was chosen by Satoru, who sports the same tattoo over the skin of his heart as well.

Pressed to your back, the white haired man groans at the feeling of waking too early in the morning. He presses his shirtless form to yours, the heat of his skin melding with yours. The reminder of the less-than-appropriate events of the previous night sent heat to your cheeks and a dizzy haze to linger in your thoughts.

Being pressed between Satoru and Suguru is just as extraordinary as you’d thought.

Satoru’s lips leave a gentle kiss at the nape of your neck. His hands clutch your hips tighter, drawing you back into his chest to spoon you tighter. From in front of you, Suguru shuffles closer; his muscular chest pressing against the soft skin of your own bare chest. If he were awake, the motion would grant you a racy smirk.

In his sleep, Suguru hums. Lips plump, you press a kiss to his mouth before snuggling back under his chin. At the touch, Suguru furrows his brows.

“Go back t’sleep, Pretty. S’too early.”

You hum in agreement, soothing the wrinkle of his brows and accepting the delicate kiss he places on your lips before Suguru is asleep again.

Pulling your phone from where it was buried between the three of you, you pull back open your messaging app. There’s a single text waiting unread. It’s from Kento, and you nearly choke as you read over the few words.

“I knew you wanted to fuck them.”

bonus:

thug: do you have any last words?

reader: hold on, let me ask my partners

thug: ...

thug: that isn’t how this works - I’m going to kill you

reader, on the phone: suguru and satoru said no

a/n: wowowow this fic is a monster! I’m so excited I finally got it finished though! It’s not super proofread, but I was just too excited to release it hehe :3 I hope y’all enjoyed it!

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averagetangerineenjoyer · 1 year

Text

Scullery Maid

INFO: Tangerine x feminine!reader, domestic fluff, approx. 1k words

A/N: he has bewitched me!! he's living in my mind rent-free and I can't get him to leave!!! 😩 also YES this was inspired by the "honey where's my super suit?" scene from the incredibles (will gladly write more for tangerine and wife btw)

Find my masterpost here!

Your husband likes to refer to you as his “trophy wife”.

It’s a term of endearment, mostly. He loves nothing more than showing you off any opportunity he gets, not just waxing poetic about how gorgeous you are, but also praising your achievements and your brilliance to the high heavens.

He likes to spoil you as if you were a real trophy wife, too. He’s often away for work, but always comes home with flowers and other gifts. Your walk-in closet has a whole section dedicated to luxury bags that have only been taken out to wear once or twice. You have more jewellery than you know what to do with. Your shoe collection looks like it belongs to a millipede with an expensive taste.

(Sometimes you think your husband is a bit like a bird, bringing home fancy trinkets just to impress his lady.)

With the plush life you’re living, only working because you want to, you might have most people fooled that you were really a trophy wife. But trophy wives don’t spend their Saturdays washing blood out of their husbands’ suits, you think.

You don’t feel like a trophy wife with the sleeves of your sweater rolled up to your elbows. Feet shoved into faded Momonga house slippers. Glasses on and unwashed hair pulled back into a messy bun. Not a “messy-but-cute” bun. No, just messy. You feel more like a glorified maid.

You run the shirt under cold water, but the blood is dark, old, and crusted. Silently you pray that the hydrogen peroxide will do its work. If you can’t manage to get the stain out, you’re going to have to take it to the dry cleaner. You’re always rotating through the ones you visit: you don’t want them to start asking questions if you bring in the fifth bloodstained shirt that month.

From somewhere else in the house, you hear your husband call out your name.

“Over here!”

Padded footsteps on the hardwood floor make their way over. He quickly appears in the doorway to the scullery while fixing the cufflinks on his pristine white shirt. You turn off the faucet, leaning against the edge of the sink with your hip as his soaked button-down lay crumpled within the basin. His hair is wet and slicked back. He just got out of the shower. “Do you know where my red Cesare Attolini suit is?”

You give him a blank stare. “What?”

“The red one, love.”

You rub the bridge of your nose, slightly lifting your glasses, eyes screwing shut with a frown as you try to remember. (As if you even know which suit he’s talking about.) “Uh… I think it’s at the dry cleaner’s?”

He blinks. “Which one?”

“Baby, I’m not keeping track of every suit you own,” you tell him as you fix your glasses on your face, not even trying to hide your exasperation.

He puts his hands up defensively. “Just asking. I’m packing for Tokyo.”

You sigh inwardly. Tokyo. It’s a “business” trip, of course. Crossing your arms, you slightly tilt your head to the side and ask, “What time’s your flight?”

“At ass o’clock in the morning,” he grumbles, mirroring your stance. Your husband still hasn’t crossed the threshold onto the tile floor of the scullery. Likely because he doesn’t want his West Ham socks to get wet. He clears his throat and shakes his head. “It’s at 3.30, I’ll go pick up my brother around 2.”

“Early dinner and early to bed, then?” you ask, crossing the distance between you and meeting him at the doorway instead.

He smiles, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “Sounds perfect.”

You already know that he’s not going to get much sleep before his flight. You’ve seen this routine play out more times than you care to count. But you don’t say anything, instead choosing to enjoy the moment while you can. Reaching out to fix the collar of his shirt, you ask, “Did you settle on names for the job?”

His face lights up. “I did. I’m Tangerine, my brother is Lemon.”

It’s hard to suppress the snort. So you don’t. “What, like the fruit?”

“Yeah. Tangerines are sophisticated. And my brother is sour, like a lemon.”

A recent memory crosses your mind and you place your hands flat on his chest. “Did you pick “Tangerine” because of Lunar New Year?”

He casts his eyes to the side, the way he does when he’s about to lie. “No.”

“Right.” You don’t have the energy to tease him about it, but you take enough satisfaction in knowing that he would get riled up if you did. Instead, you nod and give him a smile. "I like it," you say before leaning in to kiss him. “It’s cute.” You taste the mint toothpaste on his breath and feel his arms wrap around you.

He hums into the kiss. “Always happy to win the approval of my beautiful wife.”

Only your husband — known as Tangerine, for now — would look at you in your current state and still want to carry you off to the bedroom. With a low and sultry voice, you whisper to him, “You know how you could win even more of my approval?”

A hand moves to give your butt a playful squeeze, and he’s already kissing the underside of your jaw. “Enlighten me, love,” he murmurs against your skin.

“Buy me Momonga merch when you’re in Japan.”

Tangerine pulls away with a disappointed look on his face.

“There’s this limited edition plushie that’s sooo cute. They don’t sell it anywhere else, I already checked. Please, baby? Pretty please?”

He sighs. “Yeah. Yeah, sure, of course. Whatever.”

You grin, knowing you’re getting a suitcase full of Momonga merchandise when he’s back. You put your arms around his shoulders. “Good.” You give him a peck on the lips. “Were you done packing? There’s something super important we still have to do.”

“And that is?”

“I think we need to test our new mattress again before you go. You know, just to be sure.”

“You’re right. That is super important.”

While you let Tangerine practically drag you to the bedroom, you vaguely remember that you left his shirt in the sink. Ah well. That’s a problem for later.

#tangerine x reader #bullet train #writing

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blackreaderfics · 7 months

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Hygge | Nanami Kento x Tiana

↳ Pairing : Nanami Kento x Tiana

↳ Rating : T

↳ Summary : Nanami breaks his well cultivated routine

↳ W.C : 4.4k

↳ A/N: the voices in my head got me y’all… this is a purely self indulgent fic featuring relatable king Nanami (I, too, do not dream of labor✊🏾) and black girlbossqueen Tiana

↳ Tags + Warnings: xenophobia from a side character, fluff, set in Tokyo, next door neighbors, cultural differences, salaryman x cafe owner, they can speak each other’s languages but not fluently

🎵 A Commuter’s Trip (The Commuter OST) by Roque Baños

🎵 Hello Stranger by KAI

Hygge (n.) | Danish

“the feeling of calm, comfort, and contentment evoked by life’s simple joys”

Nanami had a simple routine. Wake up at 6, shower, get dressed, eat breakfast by 7:45 and be out of the door—at the latest—a minute before 8. He had everything calculated to the T. If Nanami had been a minute too late—let’s say 8:01— he would miss the morning train and therefore be late for work, and he was never late. He had taken into account all contingencies i.e. a train delay, traffic, inclement weather, and made sure he was prepared for any and all possibilities.

That’s why, much to his chagrin, he was “Employee of the Month” every month since he had been promoted from associate to advisor. Most workers would’ve taken pride in that, felt their presence valued at their company. But Nanami didn’t care much for awards or titles, in fact, he just hated working period. He made sure to always clock out at 6 p.m. on the dot. One minute more would be overtime and he didn’t want to give his thankless job a second more of his labor.

When he left work, he always went straight home. When his head hit the pillow and he closed his eyes, thoughts about the next day would drift into his mind.

Did the market close up or down? What reports did he need to finish? There’s a client meeting coming up; the presentation deck needs to be prepared… Just two more days. Get through two more days and it’s the weekend.

And so on and so on. Wash rinse repeat.

He presumed this endless cycle of corporate monotony would continue until the day he turned 40, after which he could retire and live modestly in a country like Malaysia or the Philippines to catch up on all the reading he missed. Perhaps even find a nice woman and marry her while he was there.

The marriage part was new—an afterthought after years of daydreaming—and he didn’t really think much about the kind of woman he wanted to marry. What she looked like or what she did was more of an amorphous thought, a vague idea in his mind.

Until her.

He met her by accident. Nanami had been cooking, a hobby he only indulged in on the weekends, and he was just in the middle of making a rolled omelet when he heard a loud thump outside his door.

His apartment building was more of an office building which meant that his floor didn’t get much traffic. The people who rented rooms were not really tenants who lived there, but workers looking for an extra workspace. He had assumed the thump to be a delivery man outside his door so, naturally, he was surprised when it wasn’t the post, but a foreigner woman standing outside the room next door.

The woman had a heavy bag of groceries balanced in the crook of her arm and another by her feet that he presumed had been the source of the sound. When they made eye contact, he had been so startled that he quickly closed his door. The apartment next to his had been empty for months, but it looked like it had finally been rented out.

He thought nothing more of it until her very presence began to infiltrate his well-maintained routine. Every morning, if he was quiet enough, he could faintly hear her humming as he got dressed. Other times, he could hear upbeat jazzy music on the weekends if he opened his window.

Every night, he was surrounded by the fragrance of whatever she seemed to be cooking. Most of the time it was sweet, other times it was savory. It wasn’t an unpleasant aroma, just noticeable to the point where its absence would feel strange. There were days when they would leave for work at the same time, though oftentimes he would end up holding the elevator door open for her when she left her apartment a few minutes after he did.

In the brief moments they encountered, Nanami made small observations about her: She was an American. Beautiful. Unmarried—Americans wore rings on their ring finger to signify marital status, he’d noticed she didn’t.

He couldn’t infer her job or what exactly brought her to Tokyo in the first place from her appearance alone, however. He’d seen a fair amount of young foreign teachers in the city. He wondered if she was a teacher. She looked young enough. A missionary? She dressed modestly and wore sensible shoes. Her curly hair was often tied into a low bun. From the very slim list of what young American women did for work in Tokyo, he decided on teacher and his curiosity was sated.

One day he found out. After a long day of work, he walked his usual route from the train station back to his apartment building but was redirected due to construction at his usual subway exit. When he alighted from the escalator he was on a different street entirely. The extra few minutes from this detour would undoubtedly cut into the time he’d set aside to unwind, and subsequently, he’d have to make a few adjustments to still get a full 8 hours of sleep.

He loosened his tie and sighed inwardly as he walked on. Since he’d moved to this district last year he didn’t make much effort to visit any new places. For all he was concerned, he only really needed to know his route to work and the nearest Starbucks.

So when he passed by a small cafe called “Tiana’s Place”, it didn’t immediately click that the jazz he’d heard playing softly from her apartment was the same music that was playing now. It was familiar enough that it gave him pause. Where had he heard that song before? When he finally caught sight of her—his neighbor— through the glass window, it finally registered that she wasn’t a teacher or a missionary, but a cafe worker, and from the looks of it, she owned the place.

He watched her dimples deepen as she interacted with customers, giving each and every one of them a tireless smile. Before he knew it, Nanami found himself inside the cafe whisked into the after-work rush of impatient office workers. She was so busy already, the only indication of strain being a moment when she blew the hair out of her face before the next customer walked up to order. He planned to buy something small and leave; he wanted to give her time to catch her breath but inadvertently in his musings he was already holding up the line.

She was…right in front of him? And speaking to him now? It was the first time he’d heard her voice and he decided it suited her. She spoke in Japanese and, though accented, was clear and practiced enough in a way that impressed him.

“Are you still deciding, sir?” Impossibly large brown eyes waited in expectation for him to order.

He broke out of his reverie quickly enough to make it seem like his stalling was deliberate, his unmarred poker face further upholding the charade.

He scanned the prepackaged foods and retrieved the first thing that looked like bread. “Just this.”

“Good choice,” She looked positively elated as she scanned the barcode and activated the card machine. “Beignets are my specialty.” She was beaming at him. Not in a “thank you come again” customer way but like in a he’d just made her entire week way. She was so laughably easy to please that it discomfited him.

He muttered a “thank you”, taking the package and turning to leave quickly before he met her eyes again. The Fall of Icarus was a cautionary tale for a reason, he wouldn’t risk another trip into the sun.

Nanami’s routine had drastically altered over the next few weeks. Every morning he’d gotten used to riding down the elevator with her. They greeted each other regularly, albeit a bit awkwardly, in the shared space—A slight bow from him as he held the doors open, reciprocated by a grateful wave from her.

The last time they shared an elevator, however, they'd accidentally brushed hands while reaching for the ground floor button. For some reason, that unnerved Nanami. So now, most times, he avoided that, opting to wait and listen to the click of her door before he left the house. For good measure, he started taking the stairs. As a result, Nanami had added an extra 10 minutes to his morning commute.

The detour, having yet to be fixed, took him past the café every day. Though Nanami knew the process of waiting in line would add an extra 15 minutes to his after-work trek, he did so anyway, calculating that picking up a quick dinner bento would be a fair trade to taking the time to cook something for himself.

“What can I get for you today, sir?”

He knew her name now—Tiana, from the name tag she wore, and the sign on the storefront. He noticed from the way her eyes would widen as he approached, that she recognized him now too.

“Black tea. No sugar, please.” He placed his usual prepackaged meal and packet of beignets on the counter, taking out his wallet. Nanami didn’t always plan to add beignets to every order, but he found himself reaching for them every time, dreading her predictable delight when he did. Ordering tea was another stroke of impulse he didn’t account for, but it wasn’t so busy now, he could enjoy it before he went home.

He decided on a table by the window, savoring the warm liquid as the sun set to a melancholy soundtrack of brass and bass. It was like being transported to another time, outside of crowded subway cars and the hustle of his high-powered office.

Nanami closed his eyes and felt something akin to contentment. When he exhaled, the stiffness in his shoulders abated, and the strain behind his eyes subsided. Was this what it was like to finally relax?

He was about to take another sip of his drink when he heard a loud bang. The front door to the restaurant had flown open, a bulky man with greasy hair and a lecherous smile stalking in. Nanami’s eyes trailed after the man’s movements, the cup still raised to his lip.

“I’d like a dozen of those powdered donut things. Ya got any of those?” The man leered at the part-timer manning the counter. He sauntered back and forth at the register, eying the self-serve pastries in the display.

“Sure, would you like them fresh? There aren’t enough ready-made ones for a dozen, but if you’re willing to wait there’s a new batch being made—”

The man picked up a package of beignets that had been warming under a heated case and without warning, ripped open the package and took a bite.

“S-sir! You need to pay for that first!” The part-timer sputtered.

“Well, I’m waitin’ for that new batch. I wanna try before I buy.” The delinquent guffawed and attempted another gleeful bite only for the pastry to be smacked out of his hand and onto the floor.

He whirled around to face Tiana, bursting into laughter upon seeing her. “And who the fuck are you supposed to be?”

“Call the police,” Tiana stated calmly to her employee as she stared down the man. Her usual polite smile had been replaced with a stony-faced expression. “Sir, if you’re not going to buy anything then it’s best you leave.”

“Huh? What was that? I can barely understand you, foreign bit-AHh” A pressure on the man’s shoulder made him crumple in pain.

“Your ears must not be working. I can understand her perfectly well,” Nanami murmured, his vice-like grip squeezing at the juncture between the man’s neck and shoulder. While the delinquent whimpered pathetically at the deepening pressure, Nanami directed his attention to Tiana, motioning with a slight tilt of his head for her to step away. “It’s not worth your trouble, I’ll take care of it.”

She nodded reluctantly and joined her staff member who was now waiting with a phone at her ear behind the counter.

Nanami appeared to be saying something to the man now, but in a volume that Tiana couldn’t hear. His face was calm, betraying no emotion while the delinquent paled gradually in terror, trembling under his grip. The moment Nanami released him, the man scrambled out of his grasp and prostrated himself on all fours.

“I’M SORRY I’M SORRY I PROMISE I WON’T DO IT AGAIN PLEASE—” He shouted hysterically and proceeded to do a fervent bow of penitence.

Tiana looked at Nanami quizzically but was only met with a mild shrug.

“Alright alright,” she stepped around the counter to placate him. If he could just stop snotting up the floor she just mopped and get out of there, they could just forget this all happened.

The tinkling bell sound of the cafe door opening interrupted the scene; everyone’s attention shifted from the blubbering man on the floor to the police officer who had just stepped in.

Before anyone could speak, the man sprang up from the ground and ran toward the policeman. “OFFICER! IT'S ALL MY FAULT I ADMIT IT! ARREST ME, PLEASE! JUST GET ME OUT OF HERE!”

Within 10 minutes the offender was cuffed—willingly, to the cop’s surprise— and whisked noisily out of the cafe just as quickly as he’d burst in. Nanami, suddenly uninterested in the commotion, walked calmly back to his table and gathered his things.

Tiana made her way over to Nanami, eyeing the man through the window. He was currently being escorted to a police car on the curb. Still in hysterics, he’d practically thrown himself into the back of the car.

��Ok…what on earth did you say to that man?” She quirked an eyebrow at the blonde businessman.

That this cafe is his one and only oasis in the heaping pile of shit called life, and if even so much as one insignificant waste of air like him tries to ruin it he’ll have no choice but to chop his fingers off one by one and shove them down his throat so hard he’ll be shitting fingernails for weeks…among other things.

It would’ve been improper to divulge this to Tiana, of course.

“I asked him to apologize,” he said instead in simple English, a far cry from the eloquently horrific threats he’d made in his native language.

“Really?” She asked, accepting the sudden change of language in stride. Her arms were crossed, her hip jutted to the side, face incredulous. “Just like that?”

“I’m rather persuasive.”

After a beat she laughed.

Nanami didn’t consider himself a funny person. And frankly, he didn’t understand why she was laughing now but he welcomed it, if only to see that the earlier disturbance hadn’t caused her too much distress.

“Well, thank you kindly,” she drawled in between giggles, her southern accent now unmistakable when she switched to English. “Mister…”

“Kento.” He offered his first name, aware he was skipping over several customary stages of familiarity. In any other case, anyone less than an acquaintance addressing him by his first name would be extremely frowned upon. But it was common business practice to use given names when dealing with American clients; he thought it fitting to do the same with her.

He reached into his suit jacket, pulling out a silver business card holder, and passed over an impressive looking card:

Nanami Kento, Investment Advisor

“If there are any similar issues please don’t hesitate to contact me.” He repeated an English phrase that had come in handy from past business dealings.

“Mr. Kento,” she repeated to herself with finality studying the card. Tiana faintly wondered why a guy with a fancy title—and the most expensive suits she’d ever laid eyes on— lived in the modest one-room apartment right next to hers. She pocketed the card and patted around for her own business card.

“I would’ve given you my own card too. But if you ever need to contact me—”

“Boss!” Her part-timer called out, waving her over from where she stood next to a police officer holding a clipboard.

“I’d better go, you know where to find me.” She excused herself with an apologetic smile.

Unfortunately for Nanami, this little ordeal had cost him another hour of wasted time.

The next day Nanami waited for the familiar click of her door shutting before starting his commute. When he exited his apartment, he could still see the silhouette of her back walking towards the elevator bank.

She left without an umbrella, he noted to himself as he walked part of the way down the hallway. He imagined walking up to her and bringing it up casually as they waited for the elevator. But as soon as she’d turned his direction he changed course abruptly, legs moving on their own through the emergency exit and down the stairs.

Work went on as usual. He sat at his desk going over the pitch deck, but his eyes could not seem to follow the text. Instead, he found himself gazing out the window, watching the clouds slowly darken in the horizon.

“Fucking weather, right? News said it’s gonna rain like a bitch the next few days.”

His boss had walked up behind him, crouching at his eye level to see what Nanami was looking at.

“Hope you brought your galoshes, rookie, we’re going overtime today for that big client meeting. Dinner’s on me.” His boss clapped a hand on his shoulder and went off to bother a different team.

He tried to return his attention to his work, but he couldn’t. Instead, he leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes against the blue light of his computer screen. All he could think about was the rain.

Tiana had hoped that by the time she closed, the rain would’ve stopped. But she found herself outside the doors of the cafe, reluctant to leave. The rain hadn’t let up, and it didn’t look like it was stopping any time soon.

It was a day of disappointments. On top of forgetting her umbrella, Nanami hadn’t come into the shop that day. She’d gotten used to seeing him enter the store at the same time every day, and perhaps even looked forward to it.

She took one tentative step outside, shivering through the draft of wind. She didn’t live far, maybe it would be alright if she just ran home with a plastic bag over her head. Tiana locked the door behind her and raised the collar of her jacket, clasping it with her hand to protect her neck. On the count of three, she lifted the plastic takeout bag over her head and took the plunge.

After a few strides in the pelting rain, it suddenly stopped—She had run into something or someone. The rain made it difficult to see where she was going so she blindly sputtered a reflexive “I’m so sorry!” in English at whoever it was that she had run into.

When she wiped the rain out of her eyes she could see nothing but an impeccably tailored pinstripe suit in the dim of the streetlights. It was Nanami and he was holding an umbrella over her head. His collar was unbuttoned without a tie, and he looked utterly exhausted. The dark circles under his eyes were even more pronounced from where she stood underneath him.

“Mr. Kento? Are you alright? What are you—”

“I figured you could use an umbrella,” he said dryly and pretty pointedly at her makeshift plastic bag hat.

“Yea, I guess I could use one of those,” she laughed breathlessly and took the bag off her head, before giving him one of those heart-stopping smiles he loathed. “You saved my life.*”

The corner of his mouth quirked slightly, amused. Perhaps because her choice of words sounded highly literal, almost…cute?, in Japanese. He “saved her life” just by sharing his umbrella? Americans were known to have a penchant for the dramatic. But he didn’t bother to correct her, instead, he only hummed somewhat of an affirmative response.

They walked in a comfortable silence down a familiar tree-lined path leading to their apartment building. She noticed Nanami’s shoulder getting wet, and leaned closer to him.

Feeling the imperceptible shift, he gave the woman beside him a sidelong glance. His eyes settled on the loose wisp of hair he’d always seen her blowing out of her face.

It bothered him.

Maybe it was the fatigue-driven delirium, but he was struck with the inane compulsion to brush that lock out of her eyes. He couldn’t have been more grateful for the umbrella currently occupying his hand, otherwise, he would’ve indulged it.

Tiana reached over and gently adjusted the umbrella closer over his side. “Wouldn’t want to ruin that nice suit of yours,” she said softly.

“I hate this suit.” The curt statement came off a bit more brusque than he’d initially intended, though, it was true. He hated that suit and everything it represented.

She looked at him curiously, wondering if this was another aspect of his humor. But from what she could see on his countenance, he was entirely serious.

He glanced at her again, catching the confused look on her face. “I don’t mind if it gets wet,” he reiterated this time with the intended lack of severity, along with a kind of finality that implied an end to the discussion of his suit and his decision to prioritize her dryness. They continued the rest of the way, the umbrella above them biased towards her side.

When they got to the apartment he held the building door open, letting her walk through first.

“Thank you again for yesterday. That man, he was—” she paused to conjure the correct word.

“He was being a nuisance,” he completed, pushing the button for the elevator door. Naturally, he had chosen the same number for their floors, and when they arrived at their floor he waited for her to alight before walking after her.

When they finally reached their neighboring doors, he set his umbrella on the hallway floor for it to dry and began to punch in the code for his door.

“Mr. Kento, wait a moment.”

He stilled his movement and watched as she rummaged into her purse.

Tiana pulled out a paper box from her bag and presented it to him, “I was going to give these to you earlier if you came in. Glad they didn’t get wet.”

It was a small gesture. Even so, he was reluctant to take it.

“You… didn’t have to,” he frowned, eyeing the box.

“You didn’t have to walk me home, either,” she shrugged.

“We’re neighbors. We were going in the same direction,” he said plainly, though, he didn’t entirely believe the words as they left his mouth either. It was unlike him to go anywhere else except straight home after working overtime. He hadn’t run into her by some coincidence or divine guidance. He’d gone there on purpose, and he had a sinking feeling she figured that out already too.

“Then just think of it as a ‘thank you gift’,” she insisted, tugging gently at his wrist and nudging the box softly into his hands. “For being my favorite customer.”

He shifted uncomfortably to receive the box with both hands. It was an unfamiliar concept for him to be anyone’s favorite anything.

“Good night, Mr. Kento.” Tiana’s voice had an amused lilt to it. Nanami must’ve stood there frozen because she was already halfway through her door, a knowing smile on her lips.

He regained his composure and mumbled back a formal “Good night, Miss. Tiana,” —her name a bit alien on his tongue—before retreating back inside.

When the door shut behind him, he immediately shed his suit jacket. His body was much too warm despite one side being wet; his collar much too tight, despite his lack of tie.

Nanami stared at the assortment of pastries that Tiana had given to him. He couldn’t recall the last time he willingly ate dessert though he assumed if he had, it would’ve probably been with Gojo and his infantile palate.

Truthfully, Nanami didn’t really like sweets at all. The first time he bought those beignets, he’d just picked up the first thing in line that day and just…never stopped buying it. Over the past weeks, he’d amassed a bevy of unopened bags of the foreign confection and they were occupying the much-needed counter space of his kitchen.

It was rather ironic for an investment advisor to be so frivolous with his money. Spending on foods he didn’t even eat when was supposed to be saving it didn’t make any sort of financial sense. He had been planning to retire by 40, and now he’d have to add an extra 5 years to his projections over mere fried dough.

Nanami turned over the yellow business card for “Tiana’s Place” that he had found wedged in the box. A simple “Bon Appétit ;) -T.” was written on the back.

He picked up a beignet from the box and took a bite—It was made for him, after all. He chewed it slowly, the consistency not too far off from that of a baguette. It wasn’t too sweet, either. In fact, it was…delicious? Better than any dessert he’s had before. Maybe everything he’d tried before this was just a crude imitation, a poor excuse for the craft of baking.

Perhaps he did like sweets or even dessert right before bed. Maybe he didn’t even mind that he wouldn’t be getting his full 8 hours of sleep. If he concentrated hard enough, her faint humming as she got ready for bed filled the silence of his apartment. He could stay up even longer if at all possible.

When he finally closed his eyes, a rush of different kinds of thoughts flooded his mind.

Some were more mundane: Maybe I’ll have a beignet for breakfast or It’s probably going to rain tomorrow.

Some were imaginations: plump glossy lips curved in an oversweet smile meant solely for him. His fingers gently tucking that bothersome tendril of hair behind her ear.

He finally drifted to sleep with one last thought just as simple as the others, a tiny hope that she would forget her umbrella again.

*A/N: Tiana’s words sound like a literal translation/unnatural because she’s a non-native speaker ex. “you saved my life” vs a more natural/colloquial “you’re a lifesaver”

#brfwrites #tianami #nanami x tiana #jjk x disney #idk yall lmao #walk with me #I’m just glad it’s finally out of my head #x black reader #black reader #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jujutsu kaisen fluff #nanami kento fluff #nanami kento fanfic #nanami fluff #nanami fanfic #jjk fluff

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